Wednesday, 23 January 2013

The Boatman

He brushed on the last of the sealant. There. She would keep the water out all right now. He could move her to a safer spot once the waters came. There was enough petrol for several days journey and then there were sails. In any circumstances she would float beautifully.
His wife appeared with a basket full of bread, cheese and fruit. “You’re still bent on doing this?”
He nodded.
“They’ll take you for a fool.” She scurried away, shaking her head.
Two lads from the village strolled by.
“Hey, mister, who do you think you am? Noah?”
“What you going to put on there? Copulating kangaroos?” They started pelting him and the boat with pebbles.
He didn’t say anything but carried on eating his lunch.
He looked at the sky. It was getting blacker. Any time now, he thought. I don’t blame you for breaking your promise. We’re worse than ever.
The first drops of rain started. Time to load up. The dairy herd first. Then the bullocks and the sheep. He hoped the kids would cope with the chickens and the working dogs. And he must make sure to get them and the missus aboard.
No, he wasn’t going to lose his farm for anything. Mother Nature, Global Warming, Climate change or the anger of the one true god.  Not with that boat he wasn’t. Then who would be laughing?   

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