Moonlit crisis

The ship was a sturdy, intimidating naval battalion. Its polished decks demonstrated the knee-breaking labour, which the poor sailor, that was presently scrubbing frantically at a small stain, had to endure. Lead by Jack, the boys marched on to this spotless deck, stomping their feet at every step which resulted in a furious, outraged glare from the poor sailor who could do nothing but stare at the now muddy floor. He opened his mouth to utter a complaint but obviously stricken by a quick change of mind left his lower jaw hanging in a comical expression of incredulity. Abruptly Jack, like a hunter that has caught a glimpse of his victim, froze. Slowly lifting his right hand in a strict sign to not move, he wrinkled his nose sniffing the air. Without the slightest warning he swirled his head around allowing Ben to see his bloodshot eyes and air of destruction intermingled with fury. Yet, of all these frightening characteristics, the one that terrified Ralph the most was the unmistakable sign of satisfaction and pleasure etched in that face of savagery.
To the pure repugnance and disbelief of the unlucky bearer of this unfortunate cleaning job, Roger emitted a grating sound from the back of his throat and spat on the polished white walls. Jack meanwhile had found the source of his nasal recognition and launched himself through the revolving doors into a kitchen where an unequivocal smell of roasting pork filled the room. The twins that followed closely behind him were able to perceive the amounting frenzy that was slowly gaining control of him. Just when they were deciding whether or not to take action before the situation turned to catastrophe the captain whom had saved Ben on the beach appeared and in a pompous way, clearly stating his position of chief said, “You all seem to have acquainted yourselves with the surroundings and judging by your languished looks I suppose you are all craving for some of this roasted pork which I hope you enjoy wholly for it is rare and not a given in these times of war”
Although the captain had been surprised that young English boys could possibly conduct themselves like animals, his astonishment turned to bewildered shock when: closing his eyes in order to say grace was rudely disrupted by a repulsive sound. Opening his eyes he was dumbstruck to see the boys rashly devouring the unique dinner. He looked from one to the other; some had filled their hands with food and were trying to stuff it down their throats all at once. Others did not even bother using hands, and laying their heads in the plate gobbled at anything they could get a grip of. They occasionally lifted their heads for air and without the slightest sign of disturbance let the juice slowly trickle down their necks. Once one of them finished, he got up and marched off to his room. The crewmembers, now contemplating the nauseating remnants were unable to regain their past appetite after having witnessed such an abhorrence.
Ben twisted and turned intermittently groaning or mumbling some incoherent sounds. He saw a knife-he turned. He saw fire and heard bloodthirsty screams-he twisted. He hid in a thicket. All of a sudden Jack with a spear and a painted face emerged. More faces, more spears and a chant “Kill the boy. Cut his throat. Spill his blood.” He woke up screaming a drop of sweat ran down the side of his face. “ I have got to get a grip,” he whispered. “ I am safe now. Soon I will be home, miles away from the others.” He decided to take a quick walk on the deck, breathe in the fresh marine air and try to think beyond his fears and past worries. Now that he was on his own with nothing on his mind he was able to appreciate a new aspect of life, which he had never truly known how to appreciate. Perhaps his encounter with near death had been the key. He was presently able to remark the beauty of his surroundings. He marvelled at the reflection of the moon on the rippling ocean and the howling wind blowing in his face. The depth of his wonder was so strong that he did not hear the steps behind him nor the silent whisper of “Kill the boy. Cut his throat. Spill his blood.” It was only when he turned to gaze at the stars that an unsubstantiated reflection caught the corner of the eye. It only took him a second to switch from his former state of awe to panic and fear. He looked back and forth from the cold sea and the cold face. “Jack you don’t have to do this”, he said.
It was only late morning when Ben was reported as missing. An assembly was called and it was decided after much frantic discussion that Ben had fallen overboard. Nobody knew for sure apart from maybe a few, who never gave up their secret.