Everything is a Choice

Chapter 12

Previously....

I knot the rope onto the rail and wave at him. “Come on, Gisborne. Climb!” He doesn’t move, either because he thinks it’s impossible, or because he’s terrified. I shout again. “Guy, first one to the boats wins.” I have no idea if the rowboats are within striking distance, or whether either of us can swim well enough to reach them.  This is not Locksley pond. 

Whether it’s me calling him Guy, or the fact I’ve just issued a challenge, Gisborne hauls himself along the rope. I offer him my good arm as he reaches the top. 

“You ready?”  I point at the choppy sea.

Gisborne nods.  He turns to face me and grins. “Frightened, Locksley?”

I grin back. “No. You?”

“No. On the count of three?” he says.

“Agreed.”

We count one, and jump.

Chapter 12

“I told you it was a hunk of junk.”

Sobbing, Much helps John grab hold of my outstretched arm and together they haul me into the rowboat. Clutching my throbbing right arm, I turn and look out to sea. I can’t see Gisborne and fear that after all my efforts in the hold he has drowned.

Allan points. “There!”

When we raced in Locksley pond, Gisborne was wearing nothing more than a simple homespun shirt, breeches and a belt. His leathers must be a weight, hampering his ability to swim, but there was no time to strip before we leapt off the boat.

“Row!” I shout.

John grabs hold of the two oars and begins clumsily rowing.

“Come on, Gisborne!” I lean over the edge of the rowboat, holding out my good arm. “You call that swimming.”

His arms start flailing in all directions, reminding me of the ungainly way he used to swim as a youngster, while John continues to slap the oars in the water, slowly closing the gap between Guy and the rowboat.

“Robin,” Guy calls, “I can’t...I can’t....”  His head and then his arms disappear under the water.

I stand and put a foot on the edge of the rowboat. Salim grabs me round the waist, pulls me backwards. “You cannot save everyone, Robin Hood.” 

I crumple onto the deck, defeated.John stops rowing.

“We need to head that way,” I hear Salim say.

John starts heaving on one oar, slowly spinning the boat around.

Much yelps.

“I knew you’d fucking leave me behind.” A white and trembling hand grips the rim of the rowboat and, with a reluctant grunt, John grasps it and hauls Guy into the boat.

Guy flops on the deck next to me. He looks like some slick black seal wearing a seaweed hairpiece.

“You should learn to swim better,” I tell him, inexplicable relief flooding my exhausted mind and body.

He spits seawater in my face. “Up yours, Locksley.” He starts laughing, but there are tears in his eyes, or maybe it’s just seawater.

~

“Where are the other boats?” I ask.  I’d been counting on keeping up with Jehal and following his lead in our daunting bid to reach the shores of France.