Captain Smith: The Jungle at War

By MJ Weber

Captain Smith

A story of a man’s identity being found not by what was but is to come, as past fears are replaced by courage to act against what was once hidden. He begins to make a dramatic transformation, due to his new-found faith in God. But can a man’s life truly be transformed for the better? And does one’s past simply become erased? Can a man truly live again? These answers can only be found in the book written by the author of salvation.

As for the contents of the novel, a fictional series of events set prior the second world war, where a man whose past, not yet fully explained, is shaken into a duty of finding answers. Concerning lost treasures and a plan for expedition, only to find a treasure, he had been avoiding, yet to become the hope that strengthens him and sharpens understanding. As he and new-found allies are given the courage to fight back against Nazi suppression, despite all odds. As the race is on, to come to other’s aid and attempt to find treasures long hidden, taking a stand in faith. Find the war waging within men’s hearts to be a far greater threat then the war itself. As new-found allies to express their concerns for the ever-growing threat and evil being carried out, by their and other’s oppressors. As confidence is not simply found in the world, nor courage to act, but by hope found in Christ. As soldiers and civilians’ morals standards are questioned by the soon coming storm.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Thomas Nelson
• Release date: Dec 31, 2019
• ISBN: 9781400327881

MJ Weber

Pioneering Wester New South Wales, some say hardship, I say character building, though whatever theses common reasons, they are not what bring motivation. Perhaps writing from a young age and a unique interest in what many call the character’s quest. No, these are not what motivates me, nor give purpose to empty words. But what motivates are words not my own, from no less the crater of all things, through him we find purpose, through him there is hope and fellowship found in Christ our Lord.

Book preview

The Voyage

Nearing

the docks. Seeing the storage yards were right next door, I pulled in, across the other lane, stopping before its gaits. Seeing a man in a raincoat manning a small tollbooth in the center of the driveway, I asked, So what prices do you have on renting the sheds?

The man looked over an old paper, murmuring, Let’s see. To rent out a storage shed, a small one that is, you’re looking at two pounds for a month. But can use it for as long as needed at the price of five pounds.

I reached into my trench coat, retrieved some money, handing the five pounds. He grinned, Okay, head into door five on your right.

I drove by along the paved drive, passing by the green doors of the yards whitened brick sheds, reaching gurage five on the right. A yard man opened its doors, I turned in and parked the Rolls-Royce. The gate man wearing a stained yellow coat gave me the key before turning away.

Retrieving the clothes, money, and guns I packed from the boot and fixing the car, flicking a switch I had installed under its dash as an immobilizer. I closed the shed, locked its doors, and walked out of the yard, while proceeding toward the docks just down the road. My clothes and money were in a large suitcase I found in the garden shed and my guns on my back, concealed by the haversack. Reaching the railing before the, fog-covered timber dock below and walked down the stone stairway to it, spotting a ticket booth and booking station in the centre of the narrow dock. Approaching its window and man within, I asked, When’s that ship meant to sail for Australia today?

It’s about to leave now, he gasped.

I asked, May I have a ticket? Handing him eight pounds, he gave me one with change. I ran round, passed the booth. Spotting the ship at the end of the dock through the fog, preparing to cast off.

Quickly reaching its loading ramp and running up aboard the ship, a man in blue uniform demanded, Ticket sir? I presented it, he nodded. Good, no luggage on deck, sir.

I turned to the starboard side as the ramp was retrieved and the ship cast off. Staring at the sea, I noticed all passengers present on deck—not a child among them—realizing they were people on business; the men wearing suits and the women in model-like clothes. I noticed in the centre of the small ship’s rear was a sixty-by-fifteen-foot tall bridge. I also noticed that below the top captain’s quarters was a set of white stairs leading partially below deck, quickly walking across the deck toward them and continued below the bridge. Glancing over the voyage pass or ticket, I read the number printed in blue. Seeing it was room twelve on the right, I looked up and placing the ticket in the pocket of my dark green suit I had inherited from my deceased uncle. It with cream-colored trusses, not to match but shaped up with a polo shirt of similar colour, or so I was told. Finding the hallway had a white ceiling and timber floor lined with a pale green, white and red-patterned rug. Reaching the room marked twelve, I entered and closed the door still holding my luggage on my back and suit casse. I placed my cargo on the floor of the nine-by-nine foot room with a bed alongside the starboard wall, and bedside drawers. I took the suit off and tossed it upon the floor and bolted the door, before laying upon the bed.

I heard a knock at the door followed by a voice, Room service!

Go away! I huffed; the knocking ceased. Turning to the small bedside table, finding a newspaper upon it, I took and held it over head, reading the headline in bold: Voyages from England to Australia Must Be Stopped—according to members of parliament, too many of our vessels have been lost at sea, possibly to unallied forces, but is yet to be determined.

Refolding the paper and chucking it upon the bedside table, I noticed it was still morning and fell asleep. About thirteen hours later, I awoke to a loud knocking at the door. I figured it was room service again and decided not to answer. The loud knocking then stopped after ten seconds. I soon decided to get up, leaping from the bed, noticing that it was more than thirteen hours later—the next morning.

I put on my brown riding boots and began making my way to the suit when suddenly, I heard a loud explosion like a mortar cannon fired at thick iron plate. Reaching for the door, unbolting and throwing it open, quickly running out and up the hall and stairs leading out on the deck. Spotting to the right, in the distance over half a mile out, was a small grey gun boat bearing a German flag. Realized no one on deck, I looked into the water for bodies, seeing an old white-bearded man dead in the water, dressed in captain’s uniform with a bullet hole to the head. I realized they must have taken the passengers with them and the ship was beginning to sink. Seeing some large rowboats upon stands to port and starboard, I ran over to two on my right, pulling one from its stand and ran over to the next, pulling it to free and alongside the first. I ran back to my room and grabbed my suitcase and haversack, before running back on deck and placed the bundle into the first boat before running back below deck to the end of the hall. Seeing a sign above a twin doorway at its end, saying, Dining Room in large letters. Open its doors to see what food could be found, only to find a stairway leading down into the dining room that had flooded with water.

Taking a deep breath, I dived in. Once under the water, I saw the whole dining room was like a bar crossed with a restaurant; it had chairs and rounded tables covered in white and light purple, cloth before a twenty-foot bar along the back wall. I swam toward it, seeing to the right was a port holed door in the rear wall, leading to the kitchen. Swimming over, I reefed the doors’ handle. Opening it, as a dead body of a waiter floated out passed me, I entered the kitchen. Seeing there was another body of a crew member trapped in the room with shrapnel marks to the head, the Germans mustn’t had wanted to make them prisoners. I swam to the roof of the kitchen, seeing the water had not yet reached the top, and took another deep breath as the water reached the ceiling. I swam back down spotting a large variety of canned foods, there were even canned beef or bully beef on shelves beneath a center bench before ovens along the back wall. I then looked to the left of the oven, spotting a sack of potatoes swimming down. I grasped the sack and emptied it before filing with the tins and swam out through the dining room and up its steps.

Emerging from the water, catching my breath; I picked up the sack of food and carried it through the hallway and out to the row boats on deck, placed the food, into the boat I had already began to load. Then turned toward the bridge, deciding to check it for useful objects; I began walking toward the stairway, mounted to the port side of its upper quarters and side landing, along the wall of the bridge. Reaching the top and entering the quarters; stopping once inside a large role of rope on the floor by the timber helmsman’s well mounted in the forward center of the room. There were also large timber shelves along the walls of the fifteen-by twelve-foot room with a desk in the center. Spotted the shelves along the cabins rear wall equipped with the captain’s navigation tools and instruments, from compasses to sextants. I grabbed a compass and a few maps, as well as a chart hung upon the wall opposite, marking the rout travelled to Australia from Britain in red ink. Taking the seventy-feet of rope, and traveling kit within a small red toolbox, and stepped out down stairs to the deck below.

Once back on deck, I to found forty-gallon zinc drums of water. Once loading the items into the boat, I walked over and rolled one of the drums across and stood it up, leaning its top edge on the boat’s, as I tipped it up and aboard the vacant vessel. Finding more drums and knocked on their sides, hearing which were half or near three quarters full. Rolling few toward the boats, one at a time, and loading them. Before fastening the rowboats together and binding two half-full drums to the exposed sides by rope. Seeing the water rushing over the deck. As over a foot of water covered its boards, the small ship began to go under the sea. I grabbed the side of the left rowboat and pushed it off the deck. Jumped in as I began to drift away; heading southeast as directed by compass, hoping to reach some kind of island, cargo ship or perhaps fishing trawler.

After rowing and using the sails, found inside the boats, while living off canned food for four days, I noticed the left rowboat had begun to sink. Grabbing the items from it and untied the rope. As the left boat sunk into the ocean, I decided to check the traveling kit to see what was in it. As I opened it, finding a razor and Bible within. I took the Bible out and looked at it, throwing it overboard, but as I threw it over the side of the boat, there was an urge within me to get it and not do away with it. Quickly turning to the book, in the water, I dived overboard into the calm water and grasped it. Then made my way back to the boat and pulled myself aboard with the Bible. I lay on my back across the seat of the row-cross-sailboat, placing the Bible on the floor. While catching my breath, I turned to the Bible, gasping, Well, here, I need all the help I can get.

The Patrol Boat

I

continued to sail through the water, battling waves that couldn’t sink the boat, seeing no sight of land. In the morning, more than a week later, I heard load thunder, soon spotting two large ships on the horizon. Coming in closer, I recognized a smaller vessel, the very same German gunboat that had sunk the voyage ship. It was about half a mile ahead, engaging a crossfire between a larger British cursor and larger German cruiser. The gunboat that sunk the voyage ship was positioned ahead of the larger German cruiser, firing upon the British ship. The two German vessels exchanging fire with the British vessel, to port; the British ship positioned likewise, exchanging fires with the German attackers, deterring their crews mounted .303 calibre Willis machine guns. Cut off from the allied ship, I decided to row round to the right or starboard of the two German ships and come in close enough to board the gunboat that had sunk the voyage ship. Lowering the sail, I began to make my way over, keeping my distance from the German cursor, then started to row quickly toward the small gunboat. Reaching its right or starboard side, founding the Germans aboard, too focused on the British ship to notice me. I retrieved my full-length Driza-Bone jacket, putting it on over my polo shirt and grabbed my Webley pistol, long bayonet and belt; putting it on and pistol in it.

Then began to climb up the greyish blue ladder mounted on the side of the ship, holding the bayonet in my right hand and reaching the starboard edge of the deck. Peering over the railing seeing the cost was clear, I dived aboard, spotting the German crew standing portside, firing rifles toward the British ship, admitting loud sounds of gun fire. I also saw before me was a large pile of crates covered by a dark green tarp. Quickly ducking behind the crates for corer I saw more Germans coming up from a main hole in the deck’s center from below deck and began to join firing rifles toward the British ship. Seeing the Germans scattered to port, I pulled out my pistol and raising slightly while remaining hidden, began to fire at them to deter them firing upon the British ship. The noises of their rifles muffled my pistol as I fired hitting one in the chest and another in the back of the head. I continued to fire at the Germans and ducked to reload the pistol, until take out seven, as the British fired their machine guns at the deck of the boat, whipping out the remaining soldiers to port.

I ducked. Spotting the gunboat’s small bridge to my left, I decided to crawl to it, making my way across the bloody deck and reaching the steel steps leading up to the little more than six-foot square steel cabin above; where the captain was and the helm of the boat. Courteously crawled up the steps and reached the top, finding I was upon a small upper platform behind the cabin with two steel drums and the sea to my back. I slowly stood, putting the