Linger Awhile

37 Irving Goodman

2 February 2004. During the night it blew a gale and the seas were running very high. In the morning wind and sea abated and I was going to give each man a teaspoonful of rum and a quarter breadfruit and a coconut but it was difficult to see anyone. A voice spoke up and said, ‘You are not Captain Bligh, Sir. You are not even Sir.’

I hate it when dreams become difficult. ‘Give me a break,’ I said. ‘I’m doing the best I can and I intend to sail this boat all the way to the Thames Estuary and Knock John.’ As the fog cleared the old fort came into view and I heard Charlotte saying, ‘Here on Britain’s Better Music Station the time is coming up to what it used to be and Jo Stafford has a song for all you haunted hearts out there.’

In the night, though we’re apart,

There’s a ghost of you within my haunted heart –

Ghost of you, my lost romance,

Lips that laugh, eyes that dance …

‘Charlie,’ I said, ‘is that you?’

‘Of course it is,’ she said, ‘always.’