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Keep Walking: 40 Days to Hope and Freedom After Betrayal

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Lynn Marie Cherry

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“They played, not beautifully but deep, ignoring their often discordant strings and striking right into the heart of the music they knew best, the true notes acting as their milestones. On the poop above their heads, where the weary helmsmen tended the new steering-oar and Babbington stood at the con, the men listened intently; it was the first sound of human life that they had heard, apart from the brief Christmas merriment, for a time they could scarcely measure.”

FictionSea Stories
Book:Desolation Island
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“The two friends were whispering in the dark of the night, and the steady waves of the sea were covering their voices from the rest of the crew. “Look, our grandfathers had horrible incidents, some of them died, some of them faced sharks and survived, no matter what happened to them, they were always strong enough to return to the sea,” said Fahad.”

LiteratureChildren S BooksSea StoriesChildren S LiteratureEbooksNoveletteKindle Edition
Book:Dive, Fahad, Dive
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“Not seeing that many visitors to the island, my cab driver Harry was only too happy to tell me the story of Napoleon on Saint Helena as he saw it. The way he told me the story I could have believed that it took place just days ago instead of over two hundred years prior. Napoleon had arrived on the island as a prisoner, on October 17, 1815 and lived there until his death resulting from stomach cancer on May 5, 1821. During this time he enjoyed the company of a young teenage girl named ,. Many years later, Napoleon III the nephew of Napoleon Bonaparte, rewarded Betsy with 500 hectares of land with vineyards in Algeria for the attention and comfort she provided his uncle.”

HistorySea StoriesNapoleon Bonaparte
Author:Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater Three"
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“Stories from Beyond the Sea – “I could not believe my good luck!” from Page 31 “Not only was she stunningly beautiful but she was also witty, flirtatious and at the same time understanding and loving, I couldn’t believe my good fortune and did all I could to convince her to stay with me in the United States. After getting married to my young wife Ursula, in a small town in upstate New York, and thinking that the US Navy would be a better option than returning to a life at sea on merchant ships, I took the navy exam to become a student pilot. As a commissioned officer with the rank of Lieutenant Junior Grade (LTJR) I enjoyed many benefits that the aviation cadets didn’t get, including having basic living quarters. Having had some prior experience flying the right hand seat in a DC-3 when I was in Liberia, I took to aviation, my new endeavor, like a duck to water.”

ShipsMmaAfricaSea StoriesThe Ocean
Author:Captain Hank Bracker, Stories from Beyond the Sea
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“Knüppel of the French Foreign Legion from Seawater Two, taken from page 164 In a flash I ascended the steep ladder to the bridge and opened the door to the wheelhouse. Once inside, I stood in the shadows where I knew that I was out of sight and carefully peered through the windows. What I saw made my heart skip a beat. It was Franz Knüppel, making his way between some of the huge bales of rubber towards the forward part of the ship. In the dark I fumbled for the signal pistol kept in a box on the bridge for emergencies and rammed a cartridge into its chamber. Not wanting to lose sight of Knüppel, I quietly stepped out onto the wing of the bridge, all the time keeping my eye on him…. I don’t think that he knew that he had been seen, because by this time he had made his way to the bollard holding our bow lines. Still trying to stay out of sight, I quickly stepped forward and watched as he suddenly took a few steps to where he could leap across the open space between the dock and the ship. “What’s he up to?” I thought, as I saw him coming down the port side of my ship, the MV Farmington, closing the distance between us. My heart was racing as I finally stepped out of the shadows and pointed the pistol at him from the bridge and said in my most convincing way, “Get off my ship or I’ll fry your balls with a flare!” I was so nervous that had I pulled the trigger it could well have happened.”

MmaSea StoriesLiberiaWest Africa
Author:Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater Two...."
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“We flew into the small airfield in Monrovia where we were met by Jimmy, Captain Duffy’s assistant. It didn’t take long, driving on the back streets to get to the city hospital. Jimmy carefully avoided many of the potholes that pockmarked the wet streets but without seatbelts it was a bumpy ride that I wouldn’t want to repeat! One German and two Liberian doctors along with some orderlies shared the responsibilities of running the hospital. A few local nurses and attendants completed the staff. These few people were all they had to do everything, and I guess the hospital was lucky to have them. One of the attendants wearing a bloodstained shirt accompanied us on our way to the morgue. As he opened the large swinging door I was hit by an unmistakable sweet pungent odor of death that nearly caused me to throw up right there on the spot. Not having as much as a handkerchief to keep out the smell, I simply covered my nose and mouth with my hand and followed the attendant into the metal building. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust from the still bright afternoon sun to the dark interior of the shed, but as they did, I witnessed a sight I can never forget. In the heat of this building were a few bloated, decaying naked cadavers lying on planks, with hundreds of flies swarming around them. If they didn’t have sheets for the living, it couldn’t be expected that there would be any for the dead. Turning on the single lightbulb hanging over a stainless-steel tray table with a corpse on it, allowed us to see the room better. The naked body directly in front of me, with its mutilated head propped up by a block of wood, was startling and is still vivid to this day. Although a part of his skull was crushed in, I could see where crabs had been eating the side of his face. Despite this mutilation I could instantly tell that it was Olaf. His ashen face had a stubble growth on it and the grey, gaping, bloodless wound on his forehead showed that he had either been in a terrible accident or murdered! There was no doubt as to what had happened to Olaf and I knew that it wasn’t an accident. Murder was commonplace in Liberia, especially in Monrovia.”

MurderMmaSea StoriesWest Africa
Author:Captain Hank Bracker, Stories from Beyond the Sea
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