Bob ?

It was a long trip, Bob thought. He didn't remember where they were going. Was it his boat , or was he sailing with a mate ? Ha ha, joking in his head with no one to get the joke, pretty feeble joke though...sailing with a mate ! Was he the Captain, the mate or a member of the crew ? He was definitely not a paying passenger because he was positive that they did not expect or allow paying passengers to climb up the mast ! Did they expect anyone to climb up amast in this day and age ? He certainly remembered clinging to the mast and swaying right over to one side...he couldn't remember if it was to port or starboard, but he knew that he was clinging to that mast for all he was worth. It had been a hard landing.

When was it ? Yesterday ? It must have been because he had had a good long sleep Who was waking him ? Someone was shaking his arm, well touching it quite gently really, and saying "Bob, Bob, can you hear me Bob ?" Of course he could hear ! Did they think he was deaf ? He just didn't want to get up just yet. It must be early, Was it his watch or something ? Should he be up and ready to start work ? Okay, but his head was aching as though the Devil was hitting

him with a poker.

" Give him a while and we'll try again." someone said. " He is definitely rousing , all the signs indicate mental activity and you can see muscle activity... all good....just needs a bit more time."

"Will I add any more to the I.V. Dr. Mitchell ?" a woman's voice enquired.

" Not yet nurse. I'll be back in half an hour and we'll see how he is then."

Oh ! I'm in hospital. Bob thought. How did I get here ? I must have been knocked out on the deck, and taken ashore. I don't remember any of that. Come to think of it, there is an awful lot that I don't remember!

Tentatively Bob tried to move one limb at a time... not quickly and not far, just to test each one without drawing any attention from anyone who might be watching him. Oh, by all that's Holy ! he thought. That Devil with the poker had been to work all over his body ! Bit by bit and inch by inch he discovered that both his legs and his left arm were broken and had been set,. His right arm was bandaged and he was pretty sure that a couple of ribs were cracked at best and what wasn't broken was bruised. Furtive peeks revealed winking machines and lines on screens.

The sound of rubber soled shoes on the polished floor and he closed his eyes quickly.Time enough to open his eyes and let the medics know he was awake when he had a better idea of where he was and what had happened. No one could say that Bob.....Bob.... what was his other name ? They had called him Bob, but Bob what....Oh not another pun, it wasn't Bob Watt.....or was it ? He just could not remember. How old was he ? No idea . A hundred and four if the way he felt was anything to go by. Where was he from ? What nationality ? Was he a family man ? Would he know if he was? He could feel himself sweating with anxiety. That wouldn't do. He needed to get himself together before they knew he was awake. calm down. Pretend to sleep, that would be best.

" Well, how is he today ?" It was the voice of the one they had called Dr. Mitchell.

Well, Bob thought. I can remember his name but not my own. He realized that he must have slept again for some while. It was light, daylight, and his head felt a little better.They probably had him pumped full of painkillers so it was difficult to know how his body really felt. One big ache probably. The doctor was doing his thing but Bob concentrated on pretending to sleep. Why ? He just had a mistrust of people in authority. Something he had learned about himself. He wanted to smile. Better not.

There was another nurse in the room now, younger to judge by her voice. The doctor had gone and the older nurse was bringing the girl up to speed on her patient.

" Fell from the third floor of an apartment building . Lucky for him he was able to hang on to a down pipe. It swung out and helped to break his fall. "

Ah, not a ship's mast, Bob thought.

" What was he doing outside the building three stories high ?" the young nurse asked.

" Trying to break in, according to the police." The elder nurse said with a world weary tone.

"Oh, a cat burglar, " The younger woman said.

" I think he should find a new profession when he gets out of here." the older woman said , in her matter of fact manner.

They moved away and Bob risked a peek through his eye lashes. They were nowhere in sight. Was he a cat burglar ? Not good news. The police would want to interview him. Did he have a record ? Had he stolen much ? Was there any violence ? Oh, I hope not, he told himself. If he was a career criminal, was it from choice or a sort of necessity ? Who was he ? What was his full name ? His age ? Where did he live ? Did the hospital or the police know all this ? Was his name even Bob, he had to know....or did he ? If he knew his old life, he would go back to it. Did he want to ? It didn't sound like a good career choice. His friends or associates at least, were probably not the ideal companions. If he had a family, would they miss him ? If he didn't know about them, he couldn't miss them. This could be an opportunity to start a new life. If he did not know about his old life, he would not belying, not deceiving people .It would be a new start, a whole new life. He hoped they didn't know who he was. He didn't want to know who he used to be. No one had visited him that he knew of. That was hopeful. If they knew who he was, they would have notified his family if he had one,and surely someone would have come to visit.

He was feeling thirsty.His mouth felt like the bottom of a bird cage... he would ask for a drink of water ..... he had to make a move sometime.

"Nurse," he whispered huskily , as he heard those soft footsteps again. " Nurse, where am I ? What happened ?"

ENDS.