|
Summer Camp Adventure - Part 2 On the evening of the fourth day, James joined Stuart and me in high excitement with his latest scheme, which he said was a cracker. I should have realized that matters were escalating and that there could be nothing but trouble ahead, but then, what 12-year-old thinks with that sort of logic? Although we were close friends with everyone in the troop, James seemed to take Mike and Peter's attentions during his first "Game" (see Evasion in the Woods) personally and couldn't resist any opportunity to get at them. This was despite the fact that they were (a) Older than us, (b) Both expert knot tiers and (c) Breathtaking in their originality when it came to tying someone up. Our "woodland paradise" was close to an excellent beach and we spent much of our spare time swimming in the warm, safe waters. The bay was largely sandy with rocky outcrops. The path to the beach led through a small gorge with "cliffs" approximately 20 feet high on each side. James had discovered that Mike's patrol was planning to swim early the following morning in a group and the former was proposing an ambush at the gorge. We would arm ourselves with buckets filled with a mixture of mud and sand held together with seawater and the effects would be devastating. Since the returning group would still be dressed in swimming gear, the effects would come off in a shower, leaving only egos with any lasting damage. He was confident we could beat a hasty retreat from the scene of the crime without being spotted and had already recruited a fourth member of our patrol, Ken, to this crazy but audacious scheme. I suggested that this was going a little far but in the face of unqualified support for the plan from Stuart, reinforced by the sudden arrival of Ken at our meeting, I capitulated. James had always been staunch in his support of me and we had suffered too much together for me to ditch him now, however crazy his schemes may be! After supper, we four gathered up buckets and left the camp to fill them with oozing mud gathered from a ditch, topping this off with sand from the beach and adding sea water to produce the right consistency. When we had finished, it made a satisfying "glop" when mixed with our hands and in addition had a vile smell. We carried our creation back to the camp, ensuring the buckets were well hidden. After breakfast the next morning, Mike announced that his patrol were going swimming, went to their tents to change and duly left for the beach. The third patrol had duties to carry out that morning about the camp but I had persuaded James that we should at least tell the two remaining members of our patrol, David and Robert who were brothers, what was about to happen so that they could organize alibis. I suppose I thought they would realize what a hair brained scheme it was and try to talk us out of it so I was shocked when they not only said they thought it was brilliant, but offered to join us. My last escape route was therefore comprehensively blocked! There was nothing for it but to gather our ammunition and take up positions, with Stuart, David and me on one side and the other three on the other. We kept well down behind the ridge and at length Mike, Peter and the others appeared looking refreshed and invigorated by their exercise. They were chatting gaily without a care when the first handful of lethal mud descended to be followed by an absolute barrage. Filled with confusion, in no time at all they were absolutely filthy with the stinking mixture. They were unable to see us and I had high hopes that we would be able to creep away from the scene of our crime unnoticed as planned, which amazingly we seemed to accomplish. Returning circuitously and quickly to the campsite, we were there to greet our (filthy) friends on their arrival. If they suspected anything, they gave no indication although they uttered the wildest imprecations against the perpetrators of this attack. They went to shower and change and reappeared, duly washed and changed on the friendliest terms. This alone should have warned us that all was not well, but after all, they could hardly launch an attack against the whole patrol in the middle of the campsite. The whole troop spent the afternoon on the beach and everyone enjoyed the sun, the sea and the companionship. We finally made our way back in the late afternoon for supper, whereupon Mike approached, handed me a handkerchief and asked if it was mine. I looked closely at it and realized it would be pointless denying it. I loved my Mother dearly, but why did she have to be so paranoid about putting name tapes on all the property I took to camp? I thanked him and asked with a sinking feeling where he found it. "Oh, outside the camp", Mike said airily and walked away. I immediately commenced searching for James, sensing somehow that the lost handkerchief connected me (and probably him by implication) to what had happened that morning. I found him in our tent and told him about my encounter with Mike. He showed no surprise whatsoever and handed me a note he had found attached to his sleeping bag. Sinisterly, it read, "Don't go out alone, watch your back at all times. Revenge (when it comes) is sweet". I was shocked when I discovered that identical notes were attached to the other two sleeping bags in the tent. We called Stuart and sat down to discuss what we could do, having first established that the other three boys had received no such threats and must therefore be assumed to be in the clear. James agreed that perhaps we had better de-escalate our activities and be on our best behaviour for the next few days. We decided that we would remain in a tight group with the other three on the basis that there was safety in numbers and this decision was endorsed by the others who were more than happy to provide us with some security, in view of their involvement. Finally, we apologized profusely to Stuart for getting him involved but he reminded us it was his decision and that it was I who had spoken out against it. He would take any retribution that was coming. For the next couple of days we moved like fugitives on a police protection scheme, never being out of contact with one another or our "minders", but camp life went on and everyone behaved in the friendliest manner. No reference had been made to our attack since it happened and I slowly began to hope that perhaps Mike wasn't sure and we would escape untouched. Some hope! We turned in three nights later, lying awake talking for maybe half an hour before finally succumbing to tiredness, and curling up in our sleeping bags. Our fears of retribution had largely evaporated over the last few days and I fell into a deep, contented sleep. I came to feel my shoulder being gently shaken. It was still dark outside and I yawned as I whispered, "Wos matter?" I didn't get any further - a large wadded cloth was stuffed unceremoniously into my mouth and simultaneously I felt someone sit on top of me, straddling my arms with his knees and pinning my arms inside my zipper-less sleeping bag. In the moonlight entering the tent through the open entrance, I could make out several dark forms and realized that James and Stuart were each receiving the same treatment. I tried to spit out the cloth but a hand was clamped tightly over my mouth, to be replaced shortly by a second cloth (in reality, my own scarf), forced between my teeth and tied off tightly at the back of my neck. We had all been securely gagged in total silence with no opportunity to cry out for help. Not a sound had been made - or would be! My eyes now accustomed to the moonlight, I could make out six figures in the tent, two for each of us. How we had reveled in the luxury of the spaciousness of our tents - how we regretted it now! With the three of us effectively silenced and still restrained in our sleeping bags by a boy sitting on each of us I felt my legs lifted inside the bag. A noose of rope was passed around them and tied tightly further restricting my movements (the other two once again received the same treatment). Someone then bent down and whispered in my ear, "We need to have a little chat about certain events a few days ago. This is not a convenient place to talk so we hoped you would agree to come for a short stroll with us. I am sure you will understand that for your own protection (and ours) we will need to tie your hands behind your backs. If you agree to come quietly without a struggle, it will make it easier on your selves. Otherwise we shall have to carry you which may prove painful. If you agree, nod your head". I had immediately recognized Mike as our inquisitor - I had once heard him describe carrying someone in what sounded a most painful manner and which I will not elaborate on here - and I accepted his terms with alacrity (I am relieved to say that James and Stuart did as well). My heart sank as I knew that, once our hands were tied, which was inevitable, we would be at their mercy...
|