“What are these holes Jeffrey?”

“Master, the ducks are burrowing in the lawn again. I can’t seem to stop them”

“Ducks? What are you talking about?”

“Ducks sir, the ducks you keep on your pond. They are burrowing for eggs sir, the eggs that you stole. Perhaps you ought to give them back”

“Jeffery what eggs, what ducks?”

“No need to get so annoyed sir! The ducks only want what is theirs. Ducks are damn tetchy about that kind of thing, I can tell you. I know a story or two about ducks being tetchy, yes sir I do. Best give them back”

“But I can’t give them back. I have just eaten them all.”

“Eaten them all sir? All the eggs? Why we will be in trouble! The ducks will not stand for that! Ducks do not like to be scolded, oh no, and you sir have scolded them most grievously. I can tell you a story or two about ducks not liking to be scolded sir, best believe me”

“But what are we going to do? The ducks will overrun us man! There are two of us and twenty-five of them! Fetch the gun!”

“Sir, I’m afraid its too late for that, if you’d just look behind you”

At this point I jolted and woke, nearly tossing myself out of the little life raft to which I clung. Still the sea was very calm and seemed most forgiving, and best of all there were no ducks in sight. As for the sensation of cold, to return it would have to have left first yet, it is fair to say that I learnt to respect it once more. There was a slight wind and I decided to row along with it. Not knowing which direction to head or to put it geographically, being lost, made the venture so much more foolproof. All directions were as right as each other until ignorance of the south ocean subsided and this was unlikely. I circled pointlessly for some time, but at least I felt warmer and more involved.

Sooner or later it had to happen and the moment I feared most passed by so quickly. A duck off the starboard bow. I tried to pretend I had not seen it, coolly rowing on, it was still a dot near the horizon just a cormorant perhaps. But it moved towards me flying low, it circled me slowly, crying for food or craving it’s eggs? Had it really travelled so far just to avenge me? Was I meant to die out here pecked to death by a lone assassin, the indignity and absurdity of my suffering never realised by the world?

Diving fast it hit the water off the stern and emerged after an agonising gap just a little from the port bow. It chuckled at me imperiously. I raised my oar and prepared to make my final stand.

“Steady on chuck! I was only taking a gander”

“You, you want your eggs! But I don’t have them, I ate them all! Every last one! Ha! See even in death I do not repent! You may get me but you will never get your eggs!”

“Eggs? What are you talking about? Eggs? What eggs? What would I want with bloody eggs?”

“But you’re a duck? Are you sure you have not come for your eggs? Is this a trick to fool me?”

“Now what’s all this? I have had a hard day. People trying to catch me left right and centre, a certain lack of fish which if you think about it means I am now goin’ to have to starve, and a final calamity in the unusual form of an idiot banging on about eggs! What did I do to deserve a day like this. I mean shoot me if I’m being stupid, but c’mon!”

I lent back and weighed up the situation. This duck obviously didn’t want a fight, so I probably hadn’t eaten his eggs, and maybe I should let him on board. At least he would be dry even if I had no food remaining. But I didn’t like his tone and more importantly the cut of his jib. Yeah, he would just have to stay overboard until he proved himself a little more.

“Well are you going to let me on or not? I’m soaked down here”

“Promise not to peck the raft?”

“I promise”

So up he hopped.

“You have no food I suppose?”

“No I had some… food but I ate it all earlier. You wouldn’t have liked it anyway”

“No? Well that’s a shame. Having a rotten day as well? Life has it’s ups and downs, god knows it! And some days you wanna suck that shotgun what the hunter offers you, so badly it hurts. But for every cloud there is a silver lining. That was from Mary Poppins, y’know. Lovely film that was. Made me wanna be a chimney sweep but I didn’t have the build. Have you seen it? Great wasn’t it. Ah, look at us both stuck out here, both hungry, both seen Mary Poppins. We’re quite alike, you and me”

I stared at the small feathered friend I had made and wondered where it all had gone so shamefully wrong. Perhaps I should have been crueller to pets as a child, it was said they could sense mal-intent and such things. Some time went by and as I enjoyed this thought the duck started to look uneasy. Well if I ruffled some feathers now it would hardly matter, how could anything matter now? I reached for him and he squawked but I had my hands round his neck, and he was slippery so I lost my hold, and then as he fluttered I had a wing and then another. He flapped not with terror but more with rage and he screamed out to me and implored indignantly.

“What are you doing! What the hell are you doing!”

“I’m going to eat you my little sweet, and I’m going to make sure it’s while you are still fresh”

I pulled him closer and threw a bite at his back. I ended up with just a mouth full of down. Still I had the rest of my life to kill, no need to rush I thought as I drew him closer for a plunge which would draw blood. This could be the last meal of my life and I would savour it.

“I thought you weren’t like all the others! I thought you were my friend!”

“Oh we’re all the same baby, you just took too long to find it out”

Raw duck wasn’t really my thing but it was a little late to admit that now. I smacked him vigorously against the oars and the empty provisions box in turn until he gave up struggling.

“I thought you were like me. I thought you were one of us”

I looked at my hands in disgust, then finding myself relieved to discover them blood stained and not webbed, I tossed the warm carcass overboard for the fishes. They would not care if it was a little too stringy. I settled down for a sleep.

When I woke up I was warm and so relieved to be alive that I did not mind that I was with the army and they were going to kill me. The brig was comfortable and there was a tepid bowl of reconstituted yak’s milk in front of me. An orderly arrived and announced that I would join the captain for dinner. But not as dinner as I had treated my guest. The orderly was a pompous man, and would not speak either directly or fast, so I pretended to escape in such a way that it was necessary for him to hit me with his truncheon thus ending my pain. Through escaping his company in this way I was to sleep for another couple of hours and those blows to my head might explain why I could not recall events too exactly over dinner, and why the captain indeed displayed some disbelief over my account of the shipwreck.

“Still, it wasn’t one of ours, and lots of the buggers drowned” he laughed over his sautéed duckling liver, which was apparently the chef’s speciality although I obviously declined, opting instead for the more acceptable ox’s testicle (rare).

“You did very well, in fact we are going to give you a medal. A medal for valour, for heroism, for honour. We have one for all three, and that we shall in time award to you”

“Then I am not to die?”

“Why no! Well not if I had anything to do with it. Which I am afraid I don’t. I mean who would propose such a thing?” and he laughed so much he had to take himself to the side of the vessel where he vomited most copiously. When he returned I was still nervous but feeling slightly more reassured than before. The captain stood behind me and began to caress my shoulders.

“Why kill a boy as bright and pretty as you?”

And suddenly the fear returned, and I worried that some perverse maritime punishment was about to be enacted, far worse than death itself.  I concocted immediately a tale of a stomach  imbued with discontent and requested to return to my new quarters at once.