SEABOOTS

Richard loved Sundays. No school and parents at work on the market all day.

He threw back the bedclothes and stretched contentedly. After dressing in a hurry and dashing downstairs, he paused and listened. The silence told him that his parents had already left the house. A five pound note lay on the telephone table. Underneath it was a note:-
Had to leave early. Have an egg for breakfast.

See you tonight.

Love

Mum and Dad

He took the money but ignored the instruction, eager to take advantage of his temporary freedom. As he was about to close the front door, he remembered just in time to take the latch key out of the pocket of his blazer, hanging up in the hall. On closing the door again, he noticed a strange reflection in the plate-glass window at the side of the porch. Certain it had not been there seconds before, he looked again.
Entranced, Richard stared at the unusual figure dressed in a bright yellow sou’wester and wearing an ENORMOUS pair of boots. The strangest aspect of all, however, was the stream of water cascading down him and yet………Richard lived several miles from the sea and it had been three weeks since rain had fallen, so why was the stranger in that condition?
The click of the door snapped the spell and he took a closer look at the stranger. The street was empty. He looked again in the window. Nothing – only the normal, everyday scene.
Any fear he felt vanished on the light summer breeze as he walked over to the spot where the figure had stood. There was no trace of water. Of course he knew there couldn’t be, he reassured himself. The whole episode has been his imagination, so he set off towards the town centre. The morning sun was getting higher, a golden disc in a cloudless sky. It was going to be a great day!
Richard had lived all his eleven years in Haltsford and was proud of his knowledge of the bustling market town. Every street, road, lane and alleyway was known to him. During the long school holidays he had spent hours discovering the history of his home town, which was why he was surprised to pass a narrow passageway which should not have been there.
He was walking along a road that led to the market place where his parents worked. On either side of the road lay open heath land – until today. Today there were rows of very old houses, divided every few yards by dark mysterious passageways. The houses were similar to one Richard had seen in a local history book.
Sheltering from a sudden squall he noticed a yellow glow halfway down one of the passageways. Cautiously he approached the light and stood before a bow-shaped window illuminated by a large candle which cast misshapen shadows across the cobblestones. He was about to walk away from the mysterious window when the passage was enveloped by a thick blanket of fog.
Before he had a chance to be frightened, the soft tinkle of a bell distracted him. Edging closer to the safety of the light, he noticed a door at the side, slightly ajar. Above the door a bell was swinging gently…………..as if someone had just passed through. He pushed the door and entered.
The flickering candlelight penetrated the darkness only so far, but Richard could just make out the outline of a long table. On closer inspection he saw it was an old wooden bench on which lay several dust-covered objects – a pair of oars, old sailing caps, several lengths of rope and ship’s rigging. In the middle of this ancient junk stood a pair of ENORMOUS boots and to Richard’s surprise, they were not in the same condition as the other items. In fact, they were so shiny it looked as if they were……..wet.
They were identical to the ones he had seen worn by the stranger earlier on. Then he believed his imagination had been playing tricks, but now….? Richard heard a shuffling sound from the rear of the shop. He held his breath not knowing what to expect. Someone cleared their throat.
“Ah, so ye’ve arrived at last, ‘ave ye?”, a voice rasped. Richard peered into the gloom but could not see the speaker. “Yer boots is ready. Take ‘em and go,” the voice continued. The shuffling footsteps retreated and grew fainter until they melted into silence.
Richard’s first instinct was to turn and run, but invisible hands pushed him towards the centre of the shop where the boots lay. He picked them up cautiously, finding the surprisingly light in spite of their size. Tucking one under each arm, he turned and made for the door.
He stepped out into brilliant sunshine. It took several moments to become accustomed to the light after the gloom of the shop. And to his amazement, he found he was standing on familiar heath land – no fog, no mysterious passageway and definitely no shop. Everything was as it should be. On the other side of the road was more heath land, and in the distance a babble of friendly voices rose from the market place.
But, the boots, where had they come from? He still had one under each arm. And who had spoken to him. There were a dozen questions and he couldn’t think of an answer to any of them. He turned for home and ran faster that he had ever run in his life.
Breathlessly he reached his front door and let himself in, to find his mother speaking urgently on the phone. She stared at him and slammed down the receiver.
“Where have you been? I have been phoning your friends and they haven’t seen you all day. Where have you been? Where did you pick up those old boots from? Take them outside at once!”
Richard was in a dilemma, for he had never deliberately told lies before, but if he were to try and explain all that had happened his mother would never believe him.
“I……..I found them on the tip and thought they would be useful for dad to do the gardening in,” he stammered. Before his mother had a chance to reply, Richard’s father came through the door. He had spent several hours searching for Richard and was extremely angry. Without waiting for an explanation, he sent Richard to his room.
Sadly he sat on the edge of his bed and placed the boots side by side. ‘Why do parents never listen?’ he sighed. He decided to put the oversize boots on and lay on the bed trying to make some sense of the day’s strange happenings His eyelids became heavy and he fell into a deep sleep.

He woke with a start. Something peculiar was happening – the bed was swaying from side to side. But he wasn’t in bed. He was lying on a firm surface. Slowly he rose to his feet, only to be thrown backward as the ground lurched beneath him. Once again he attempted to rise. He peered through the surrounding gloom just as a mighty wall of water crashed over him, almost washing him away. He felt his feet being swept from under him; he managed to grab hold of a large rounded object nearby. With his arms firmly around it, he looked upwards in amazement. Towering above him was a mast with rigging and sails, just like the ones old-fashioned sailing ships carried, ships which he had studied with fascination at school.
“Boy……,” the rest was lost in the howling wind. Then again, it came, “Boy, man the boats!” Still clinging to the mast for support, Richard looked around. Through the darkness, he could just make out a small group of men sheltering behind a bulwark. A few feet above the deck a small boat was suspended. He reacted as if he had been at sea all his life. He knew instinctively what he had to do.
Expertly Richard released the ropes holding the boat in position and, with strength he never knew he possessed, swung the craft out on its davits and gently lowered it into the tormented sea. Quickly the crew joined him and one by one they safely dropped into the boat. Several moments later, as they rowed clear of the stricken vessel, the ship sank with a loud groan. A large hand was placed on Richard’s shoulder, and a familiar voice, said, “Well done, boy. You saved our lives”


Richard awoke suddenly. What a fantastic dream! He could almost taste the salt on his lips. In the far corner of the bedroom a stray ray of the evening sun encircled an old sea chest that once belonged to Richard’s great grandfather. Foraging through the relics he came across an old battered diary, covered with layers of thick dust. He opened the cover and discovered a faded inscription:

Presented to Albert Davies, September 1845, in recognition of his feat in saving the lives of six of his shipmates on board Her Majesty’s ship ‘Tempest’.

Underneath a postscript had been written in another hand:

How I wish I had been able to recover my boots before the ship went down, a present from my dear mother.

Richard sat on the bed. Once again confused thoughts raced through his brain. Were these the boots his great grandfather had lost all those years ago? No, they couldn’t be, he reasoned. Then he realized he was still wearing them.
He looked down. They were soaking wet and laced with strands of thick green seaweed.