Old Ben (Revised)

Old Ben

Lazy summer afternoon on the water,
the Pearl River, quiet and slow,
just the thing for a home made raft.
Hot, as only South Mississippi can get,
high banks where no wind will blow.

Jack and I have been on the water for a week now and today is a bit different than the others. The raft is tied to an old tree stump
out of the main current. The banks are too steep to put ashore, although, I guess in a tight we could climb them. This is the worst part of the river; it will take a day, maybe two, to get beyond this section.

     Looking downstream I can see the telltale ripple, the raised, wide-set eyes that tell me he's here. Yep, that's Old Ben, our constant companion since early yesterday. Hunting must be getting scarce for him lately as he keeps shadowing us. The first indication I had that he was around was when Jack was in swimming yesterday. What we thought was an old log floating downstream, suddenly turned and went across the current toward Jack. I yelled and he barely got to the raft in time!

Sunlight ripples off each tiny wavelet
and driftwood spins around and around
as it floats serenely by.
Trying to look beyond the murky surface
knots my brows and makes me frown.

     Sometime last night, Jack's dog disappeared. We think Old Ben got him but keep hoping we're wrong. Old Ben's getting bolder or else hunger is prodding him. Just a couple of hours ago he was nudging around the raft, looking for something to eat I s'pect.
I haven't seen him for awhile now, maybe he's gone.

"C'mon Jack, let's get a little slack in the rope,
I'd rather untie it instead of using my knife to cut us loose.
Here, help me pole backwards a bit. Damn! Did you see that?
Something snapped my pole like a toothpick!
Jack, I'm getting' kinda worried here.
Old Ben is pretty dang sharp for a gator.
Ya know, if I'm judging the span 'tween his eyes right,
he's got to be 'twixt sixteen and twenty feet long!"

Oppressive silence, the sound of water lightly slapping
against the upstream edge of the wood
as the raft rides lightly on the surface.
Got to get us out of this mess,
Can't just sit and brood.

     Yessir, Old Ben is a cagey one, a savvy old cuss. He keeps bumping around back of the raft where the rope is tied. Something is going on in that reptilian brain. Guess me and Jack better keep a closer watch on him. Wonder what that cold-blooded bastard is...

"OH SHIT!
Hang On Jack! OH GOD, Grab my hand  buddy!
Ohshitohshitohshitohshit! Too late!
Oh my God, the death roll! JACK, oh damn, JAAACCCK!
Jesus! look at the blood!
Oh damn, how'll I tell his folks? Key Rist! DAMN!
Oh hell, the rope's gone!  I'm drifting out into the main current."

Calm, peaceful river, made for rafting.
Slow-moving current without many snags,
empty countryside, no houses for miles,
just the solitude of Mother Nature.
My, how the hours drag by...