The Astonishing creatures of Noir D'ambre

ＰＡＲＴ１ (Folkestone harbour)

I remember the day clearly. It was a bright tuesday midmorning, and the sun was dwelling steady in the sky brighter than it ever was or ever will be. As a few sweat drops fell down my cheek, I slowed down my walking speed. I was in an infirm but busy harbour. The wooden planks a few feet above the water were almost broken, and I was lucky not to step on a disjointed nail. I remember seeing a young man in walking in the edge of the harbour. He accidently took a step on a nail, fell on his knees screaming in pain, rolling on his back and then straight into the water.

As the only lifeguard, almost 70 years old, ran to rescue him, an audience surrounded them. Apparently the life guard couldn't swim. Neither the victim.

I tried to ignore them due my sensitivity, and soon reached the other side of the harbour. What was I doing in a harbour? Well, I'm a journalist. Not a pretty good one though. More infamous actually. See, I wrote my first story about an abused cat, and made fun of him since I obviously tried too much, because becoming a journalist had always been my dream. I also drank my first drop of alcohol that night. I published it secretly in the night, so my boss didn't have a change to read it. Next morning it all crashed. I got fired, of course, the newspaper business went to bankruptcy, and readers had to spend a little while more in the bathroom.

After the incident, no one hired me anymore, so I needed to prove everyone I can write really good stuff. For that, I needed the most interesting topic ever. I read some articles to come up with one, and found some attractions across the world. First choice was Ireland's cobra savannah. I had ophiniophobia, so it was supposed to weaken me emotionally, so we would be even with the readers, but then I thought about sleeping in a snakebed, so I ended up going with the choice number 2; Circus of Dunkerque.

I read a short article about a visiting tourist couple having heart attacks; both of them. "Maybe we were just so goddamn good", commented the director. For some reason, there was no further information about the case, but I found it very interesting. I had never been in a circus, and being able to know the talented performers would be nice.

So there I was; trying to find a ship going to Dunkerque. Trip from all the way from England's Folkestone to France would take a while, so I had 4 or 5 big suitcases filled with clothing and common things for a normal man to own.

"Excuse me..." I started, but the stranger I was talking to walked away avoiding eye contact, probably thinking I was a salesman. "Excuse me - Could you spare a minute? - Do you know - Where can I find..." Instead of answers, I was only given the shoulders and the walk-aways.

At last, I found an old sailor. He had a white jacket, white pants, white sailor hat and a small white beard. His clothes were straight and very smooth. His face was covered by wrinkles. "Sir, you seem like a sailor to me. You must know where I could find a ship to Dunkerque."
"Well, kiddo, the next ship to Dunkerque leaves in autumn", he answered with a deep voice. "Hope you're not in rush, or you'll be a few months late." I felt an aura of disappointment striking on me after hearing the words. "Are you sure? I'll pay you double." I began getting desperate.

A long while the sailor rubbed his chin staring at a distant emptiness. "I don't know pal. I was planning on going to Ireland", he said. It's his ship? I wondered in my mind. "So you're planning to stay there for the rest of the summer?" I asked. "Yeah." We had a quiet and akward moment, but he then opened his mouth. "Fine, pal, I'll drop you off in the coast of Dunkerque and then head to Ireland."

I cracked from joy, but before I could've said anything, he continued. "Before you get excited, you'll have to pay 75% more from the original price. In advance."

I treaded on a narrow wooden bridge rising about a feet into a small sailboat. It was in a really bad shape and made the harbour itself look like the parlament.

The sail in the back edge was oblique, and it had many gross insects climbing on side of it. Boat was completely flat and had nothing else on it except the sail, helm, and a bottle of boose laying on the dirty wooden floor. As I reached the actual boat and walked onto the sticky floor, the sailor picked up the bottle and put the head of the bottle into his mouth, tilting his head back and pouring the last drops into his bad-smelling throat. He then threw it into the water.

"Are you sure this is the ship?" I doubted lowering my luggages. The ship - or boat, or something between them - I was standing on, seemed like a pretty bad one, so the trip would take at least a day more. "I remember you speaking about 'the fastest ship on earth' while I paid you."
"I did. And I'm standing by my words."

That's when I thought it was a waste of time, but he seemed like a polite captain. So I left the subject, and enquired: "What's your name, captain?"
"What about yours?"
"Well, they call me Cole Marley Bridgeton Junior. Or just Cole."
Captain bowed and raised his bright white hat. I'm not sure, if he was just joking though. "Pleasure to meet you, Cole", he said with a respectful sound. "My name is Robert Ian Harris, but you may call me captain Harris."
"Captain Harris, where can I find my room?"
"No rooms. We sleep on board." My jaw fell and my eyebrows raised as I heard those words. "The whole crew?" I wondered. I saw a little smile expand on his proud face. "You've got a lot to learn, Bridgeton."

Captain Harris walked away with a strut to the edge of the boat and grabbed a thick rope hanging on the outside. He pulled it using merely a single muscle. The rope was attached to the bridge, so the bridge pulled up to the boat. He closed the small barricade for the bridge and walked to the middle of the boat grabbing the helm.

"But... but..." I couldn't get words out of my mouth. Captain smiled and yelled something unclearly to the harbour. As we headed to the north sea, I had that odd feeling in my gut, that it was a mistake to leave. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.