THAMES BARGE
We’re hoisting the sails after
water-proofing them when Churchill calls for anything that can sail to bring our
soldiers home.
“We’re going to Dunkirk,” I tell Jed.
“Thames barges ain’t seaworthy,” he
says, but he’s hauling in the anchor as he speaks.
We’re lucky the Channel’s fairly calm,
because our boat rides the waves like a fat drunk, but its flat bottom gets us
closer to shore than bigger ships. Dodging bullets, we pack exhausted men into
the hold like sardines and high-tail it out of there.
Half-way home, Jed grins. “That trip’s got the fish stink out of the
sails, if nowt else!”

Thanks, as always, go to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog https://rochellewisoff.com/ from whence you can follow links to read other stories, and to Fatima Fakier Deria for the photo that is this week's prompt.