MICHAEL WALSH EX-DECKHAND: The Congo Crisis in which 100,000 died occurred between 1960 and 1965 the Crisis occurred in what was then the Belgian Congo.

Then and now the Dark Continent was largely unchanged since writer and adventurer James Conrad penned The Heart of Darkness.

After being holed during a failed dash through the notorious Devil’s Cauldron on the River Congo the King Liner (Clan Line) freighter MV King Arthur struggled under its own steam to a remote wharf at a kraal known as Boma.

There it stayed for two months, during which time the marooned crew had little to occupy them—except going where angels fear to tread. I was an 18-year-old Senior Ordinary Seaman (SOS), and ‘Peggy’, the Deck Boy, would be 16 years old.

One evening whilst having a beer in a wharf-side kraal, we two were foolish enough to accept a native’s invitation to visit a remote kraal in the jungle situated several kilometres from our moored vessel.

Later that evening, while enjoying a beer in a busy but isolated shantytown corrugated tin bar, our European features caused us to be singled out, first with a welcome and then curiosity and then, after an hour or so, with growing resentment.

As we two relaxed my teenage companion was blissfully unaware of the impending menace closing in on us. However, I perceived the menacing interest being taken in us.

There were, as the saying goes, ‘mutterings in the fo’c’sle’ but otherwise around the packed tables. Our minder had disappeared somewhere.

Trapped in a far-off tin tavern in which several hundred near primitive natives cavorted to tribal music I grasped we two were being viewed with resentment that bordered on hatred.

Realising I had only moments to extricate ourselves from what could likely be a bloodbath I confided in the deck boy.

‘We are going for a piss.’

‘I don’t need to.’

‘If you don’t go for a piss, you will be killed. Do not look around you. Do not look at others.’

After excusing ourselves from the company we casually made our way to and through the bar’s batwing doors. Such drinking dens do not boast conventional toilets. One relieves oneself outside against the ramshackle sides of the shebeen.

‘Don’t waste time peeing, Peter. Just run like fuck as if your life depends on it because it fucking well does. Are you ready?’

The now terrified deck boy looked at me to see if I was pulling his leg. My agitated expression was all he needed for him to follow my advice.

As soon as the batwing doors closed behind us, as fast as our legs could carry us, we hurled ourselves down the rough jungle track along which we had earlier arrived.

After one or two kilometres of hard running by which time I believed we had made good our escape, I paused to catch our breath as we were exhausted by our headlong flight. Bending over with our hands on our knees, we fugitives gasped for air in the jungle clearing.

Whilst the jungle was dark as Satan the sky that night was unusually bright and thankfully there was a moon. All around was the oppressive dense jungle with occasional breaks but otherwise, all was silent.

As like frightened deer, we held each other for support I was alarmed by a sound of rustling in nearby foliage.

Glancing to my right I saw a sight that shocked me to the core. Silhouetted against the lighter shadows, I could make out half-crouching running figures.

Each native was carrying a panga as they stealthily attempted to head us off. If our pursuers were to succeed in cutting off our means of escape there could be little doubt as to our fate.

Sensing a gap in the forest remained I urged the deck boy to take flight again. We hurtled down the myriad of forest tracks and with the hot fetid jungle night air scorching our lungs we finally broke through a clearing and into the outskirts of the Boma kraal where our ship was stranded.

Such an account gives a glimpse into the dark heart of Africa. Africa has been virtually unchanged since the continent was described by the 19^th Century novelist Joseph Conrad. PLEASE INSPIRE OTHERS BY SHARING OUR STORIES.

NOTE: This story is one of 70 similar illustrated stories in The Leaving of Liverpool bestselling true-life book by Michael Walsh. This and other of his titles including those of maritime interest can be purchased worldwide at all major bookstores or Amazon and LULU (the publishers). CLICK PICS OR LINKS https://michaelwalshbooks.wordpress.com/

THE LEAVING OF LIVERPOOL  ex-Liverpool seaman Michael Walsh. Bestseller: 70 stories and over 100 pictures. A first-hand account of the British ships, seafarers, adventures and misadventures (1955 – 1975). A tribute to the ships and seamen of the then-largest merchant marine in history. LINKS TO BOOKSTORE CLICK PICTURE OR LINK https://michaelwalshbooks.wordpress.com/

BRITANNIC WAIVES THE RULES Michael Walsh The Last White Star Liner (1845-1960). In 68 lavishly illustrated stories the company’s last deckboy vividly recalls shipboard life. The liner’s colourful characters and jaw-dropping incidents both on board and in New York’s notorious Hell’s Kitchen. A unique collector’s item. CLICK PIC OR LINKS TO BOOKSTORE https://michaelwalshbooks.wordpress.com/