Ahoy for Joy Read Online Free Page A

school and his family had enjoyed some past wealth, such affluence was a distant notion of which Michael had no memory. Today, while he hailed from a loving home, the financial pressures were if anything more severe than for others in the Company. As well as this, he was a deeply troubled young man whose personal motivation in all aspects of life seemed somehow to have become lost in a shady past he understood more through feelings and emotions rather than relationships and events. He was awkward, insular and his ability to function socially, rather limited.
    Tonight however, as he lay awake in his sleeping bag listening to the stifled squeals of the victims and the sadistic sniggers of the tormentors, he was left alone. Maybe it was his age; he had just turned sixteen and was really now one of the older boys. Perhaps it was some new, subconscious authority his bugle provided with its polished brass form, now adorned with the grandeur of the battalion colours and the clear sharp tones of command that had echoed throughout the camp earlier in the day. Or, maybe the others had just become bored with beating on the quiet boy who never fought back and had turned their attentions to the more animated squeals of the new quarries that the camp supplied each year. He turned his face to the pillow.
Perhaps he should intervene
. No one had
ever
intervened, not really, perhaps for fear of the wrath of the group. But for Michael, whatever his circumstances, he never found peace of mind. He felt shame. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt it all the same. Shame, loathing,
self
-loathing were constantly dominant in his mind, but he just didn’t have the courage even to comment or plead for restraint. Fear pervaded his senses, and an abject sickness swelled in the pit of his stomach bringing tears to his eyes. Finally, he curled up and eventually went off to sleep.
    *
    Michael woke early the next morning, much earlier than the others. Indeed, he had slept well, and he almost chuckled to himself as he set about checking the guy ropes. The sky was a deep blue once more and the sun rose behind the trees to the east promising a fine summer’s day ahead. He sucked in the cool, early morning air, his lungs keenly absorbing the oxygen, waking his body and his mind. The birds sang in the trees and the scent of wild flowers wafted across the silence of the camp seeking his nostrils like they had a message for him.
Maybe this year’s camp would be better
. He felt an emotion, almost new to him.
An unfamiliar feeling
. He felt wary of it and at first pushed it from his mind, the way he had always done. For as long as he could remember, he had crushed any positive emotion with an ardent resolve for reasons he neither knew nor challenged. Today however, it returned, persisting like a seedling, pushing through the soil and feeling the warmth of the sun’s rays for the very first time. Michael felt positive, hopeful even.
    BB camp was a regimented affair with a set timetable throughout the day consisting of sports, games, sightseeing and competitions. Breakfast and evening meals were always held in the marquee and included a sprinkle of religious worship, usually a hymn and a prayer, but evenings were mostly free.
    However, the day always started with camp inspection. This involved the comprehensive cleaning and tidying of the tent interior and providing the weather was fine, would include the rolling of the brailing. To do this, the sides of the bell tent were unhooked from the ground, then neatly rolled and tied with cotton strings to the underside edges of the great canvas roof. This allowed the tent to be brushed out and all the bodily smells of youth to disperse quickly into the surrounding air, a welcome cleansing in preparation for the coming night. Once complete, with no visible sides, this made the canopies look like they were floating on air, like giant Chinese lanterns rising from the heat of the land. The white canvases set