We were late boarding the mosquito filled chartered aircraft with our treasure trove, only arriving at the ship after midnight, hours behind schedule. When we pulled up to the dock the captain was pacing back and forth in irritation.
The crew held out champagne at the top of the
gangplank to entice us while the ship’s orchestra played “When the Saints Come
Marching In.” Obediently, we marched up the plank arms outstretched for the
drink.
The engines hummed and then, hours later, at dawn, we
awoke to silence.
Judith Works (to be continued)
