RIVER TALE 1956

Author: John Crouch sixbest675@aol.com

Another from the pen of John Crouch.

"Wait a while-it’s still too light". Peter looked around him and hesitated to argue. It might still be light he thought, but there was nobody about. The four of them had met up as usual down by the river. They had been pleased to see that Bill Bradshaw, who tended the hire boats had not returned from the pub. He probably thought it was still raining. The little launches sat loosely tied abreast of each other against the pontoon. He was probably settled for a while yet, but they needed to act before he returned and slipped on the chains and padlocks that secured the boats for the night. It was Richard who took the initiative.

"Windy as usual, Peter, come on let’s do it!". Without waiting for a reply he walked forward, and scuttled from boat to boat until he reached the outer one. The others waited. He crouched low over the ugly little seagull engine. A moment later he pulled at the starting rope and the engine broke into spluttering oily life. The noise acted like a starting gun and the three lads charged across the towpath, clambered across the other boats setting them bobbing furiously and piled into the seats beside and behind Richard. They freed the line and pushed off, spluttering up river toward Pangbourne. Simon looked round back at the boats and the towpath. So far, so good.

Laughing, joking and rocking the boat they proceeded beyond the large riverside houses of Caversham and if anyone saw them now from those well tended lawns or from the public towpath on the other side they would assume it was a late booking and simply frown disapproval in the usual way.

They reached the quieter section with the Reading main rail line embankment towering above them Mid stream ahead the long thin islands. They planned to ditch the boat at the side of the bank on their return and leave it tied loosely to the landing stage by the stairway leading up to the huge Courage pub there, then slip in and see if they could get a drink or two.

But as they passed the first island, in the gathering dusk, they were suddenly bathed in an eerie blue flashing light. The river patrol boat had been lying, invisible to them, exactly midstream between the islands as they approached, then it had moved astern to keep out of their view as they had passed on the opposite side of the island, then just after they cleared the island, it had manoeuvred into position behind them blocking off any chance of a sudden turn to escape..

The four faces peered up as the launch came along side them. They were not laughing now. As the boat came round and alongside them they had dimly seen a uniformed and capped figure at the wheel in the cabin. But standing grinning down at them from the open rear section of the launch was the man who should have been safely tucked up in the pub and he was laughing.

"Too regular by half lads! I’m so fed up with getting the river bailiff here to collect my missing boats that this time I thought I’d meet the people causing us all the trouble! So easy!" Richard swallowed hard. Cleared his throat;-

"OK we’ll take it back right away and we’ll pay you for the hire". Bradshaw seemed to think this over for a moment. Then he said:

"And all the other times too I suppose? Then something for all my trouble and for the bailiff’s time and for the authorities fuel?" Since they hadn’t, between all of them, the money promised for this "hire" they were hardly in a position to pursue this idea. Bradshaw leant into the cabin and addressed the skipper.

"What do you think? Payment in kind?" From the little dinghy and despite the puttering of the Seagull, they heard a distinctive throaty laugh in acknowledgement of this suggestion. Bradshaw not smiling now:-

" Pull up to the island there and tie up to the trees." The boys looked at each other, confused and apprehensive.

John quickly said :

"Better do as he says. Probably just want us on the launch and then pull this back?" But he didn’t sound too sure.

They tied up and scrambled onto the island. Finally both boats were secured to the bank and all six occupants were on the island.

The bailiff was a big beefy man with a weather reddened face and short grey hair. He opened a note book and took down their names and addresses.

"It’s Court for you four." He snapped the book shut. Peter looked about him. Not even a solitary fisherman on the opposite bank and with the locks now shut , not even a passing boat. He turned to Bradshaw who was gazing impassively upstream. Behind him Peter could now see among the trees a large cleared space and a central scorched area where a bonfire had been. When he spoke his voice was husky.

"In kind Mr Bradshaw?" He hadn’t a clue what it meant but it seemed their only chance. Hear it at least, he thought, then decide. Bradshaw looked toward the bailiff. They smiled at each other.

"Well, boys," said the bailiff, "before ’48 the Magistrates had some powers and I’d have recommended the birch for you all and what’s more they would have heeded my advice. But now it will be a fine for your parents to pay and a slap on the wrist for you." He paused and watched as the white faced lads took this in. It was a long pause and perhaps only John, who rarely got into trouble, failed to see what might be coming and he still looked about him whilst the others stared down at the ground. Richard asked:

"…and in kind would mean……..?" The bailiff snapped to attention looking ever larger in his immaculate uniform.

"Six each for passengers, twelve for the ‘skipper’ "and he sneered at this, "bare arsed with my persuader!" Bradshaw beamed approval. The bailiff continued.

"Two minutes to make up your minds I’ve got better things to do!"

The lads looked at each other, shock reflected in every face.

"All or nothing" said Peter. He looked from one to other. Each gave a reluctant nod. The bailiff slipped quickly aboard his launch and reappeared just as fast with a hefty yellowed cane clasped in his ham like fist.

He pointed to the clearing with a waggle of the stick. Bradshaw and The bailiff moved briskly toward the clearing and the miserable lads shuffled behind. As instructed they manhandled a huge fallen log to the centre of the space.

"Right, get em off!" snapped a now gleeful Bradshaw. The lads pulled of their shoes and shuffled about getting out of their trousers. Simon set the pace and had already slid off his "Y" fronts whilst the others were dreading this last humiliation. The four, now almost naked, stood in a forlorn line. Four hearts beat wildly and four throats stayed painfully dry.

"You" John, at the end of the line, looked up shocked at this summons, "change places with him" an indication of the cane. This put Richard to the end of the line. "The "skipper" with the biggest price to pay.

"First up". Peter stepped forward. "Over you go". He lowered himself over the log the rough bark chafing his thighs and stomach. Bradshaw moved round and took his wrists pulling them forwards so that the lad’s bottom rose high over the bough. The bailiff moved into position. The target was beautifully presented so that his swing could be almost up and down. The three looked on, shivering as the cane swished a practise ark. Then THWAK with a full force follow through the yellow cane bit hard into the tender flesh and stopped dead. As it rose again a livid double line sprung up clearly visible on the pale flesh, in the dim evening light. A duck screamed and skittered across the water from the bank. THWAK the second shot bit and Peter gasped and clenched his backside till the firm muscles quivered back to rest. THWAK. Simon wanted to look away but found he couldn’t, his eyes locked upon the tormented backside of his friend. THWAK. Four gone. John wondered if he could have controlled himself even this far and shuddered. THWAK. The total silence of the river now punctuated only by the wracking sobs of breath as Peter absorbed his punishment. He twisted slightly trying to somehow shield the worst from this last blow and found Bradshaw resisting his efforts with ease. THWAK. He’d lost count somehow. Was there another he dreaded to relax yet?

"Up, Next." John stepped forward.

" I need to pee Sir".

"Be quick!" John moved quickly to the nearest tree. Simon and Richard cursed inwardly at this delay. A moment later John was across the log. He yelped as the hard bark grazed him as Bradshaw drew him tightly into position. He wanted desperately to rearrange himself but couldn’t. He flinched as the bamboo touched his arse. He heard the swish and in the same instant THWAK. He’d never been caned before. He couldn’t believe the depth and speed of the pain that bolted up toward his brain. His legs flew up and only Bradshaw’s steadying hands kept him from flying over the log. THWAK. The second was worse, much worse. His meaty cheeks were above and beyond any other sensation, blazing fires of pain. He gasped for a breath and forced himself to calm down. THWAK. Peter, who had been totally absorbed till now with trying to rub out the fearsome pain from his backside, looked up now and watched as John raised his head, his mouth seeming to scream out, but soundlessly, then his head sinking slowly back between his outstretched arms and with a faint ‘clonk’ his forehead rested back upon the log. THWAK. Four up and a rising pride. Odd sensation. He knew he could take this. Get through it. THWAK. He hissed out a long breath through clenched teeth. Nodded his head from side to side and waited for.. THWAK. The last cruel blow.

Shakily he walked back to stand by Peter. Simon looked once, blank faced, at the ridged, lined backsides of his friends. The neat, firm arses he had seen so many times skinny dipping in the river, now swollen and heavy and blazing with their red wheals. Worse than anything he had seen at school.

He threw himself forward quickly over the log. An unexpected tumescence quickly out of view. But not before both John and Peter had noticed it. They looked on, their ordeal over now except for the lingering fire. THWACK. The bailiff didn’t seem to be tiring one bit. Simon grunted and eased his legs apart then close again. It was Simon, who at school, had always been in trouble with the gym teacher and who had been something of a hero for his stoic manner over hard slipperings. THWAK. Again a little grunt. But John saw the livid stripe and realised that The bailiff was going just as hard. THWAK. The grunt. The bailiff looked irritated. Bradshaw puzzled. THWAK. This one diagonal designed to intersect the earlier work. It showed. It worked. But again, just the soft grunt. THWAK. This time a bead of sweat flew from The bailiff’s brow as he completed his swing and it was he who grunted. He paused. Pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his brow, his eyes never leaving the lad’s well striped bum. Confused by the pause, Simon, turned his head and found himself gazing levelly into The bailiff’s eyes. To John it looked almost like a challenge! Madness. The bailiff tapped away twice at the bruised backside and then swung his best effort. TTTTTWWWWWAAAAAAKKKK and at last was rewarded by an AAAAHHHH!

Bradshaw let go Simon’s wrists. Simon pushed himself back. His feet slid to the ground and he stepped back from the log. Almost casually he twisted his head around his shoulder and downward to catch a glimpse of his blazing backside. Peter was sure that he smiled briefly as if in defiance. The bailiff and Bradshaw exchanged glances and John imagined the expressions were reluctant admiration

So, up stepped Richard who’s only extra sin was really just a knowledge of outboard motors.

"My turn. I’ll do the first six." This from Bradshaw. The bailiff moved round to the lad’s head. He clasped his wrists and pulled him further up and over the bough. Bradshaw moved about swishing the cane and getting the feel for it’s weight and whippiness. Richard looked back at his friends standing now quite casually despite their near nakedness. He understood Simon's performance but doubted that he could equal it. Anyway, he was about to get twice as many, which was just not fair.

Bradshaw set up his position. Tapped the cane carefully and firmly, perfectly intersecting the smooth white globes of Richard’s arse. Then a high swing and THWAK and aaahhhhh! Richard panicked. He was in trouble already. He had never been caned so hard. Endless strokes ahead and already he knew that he couldn’t cope. He was whimpering and ashamed at being like this in front of his friends. Bradshaw felt a flush of satisfaction. He would show The bailiff how it should be laid on.

THWAK!. EEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHH AAAAHHHH.

The bailiff struggled to keep his hold on the lad. Furious threshing and legs flying up and sideways. Even the scratching bark would not deter him. At one point he almost rolled over so that his arse was against the log and his cock and balls swung wildly into view.

"You, boy, come and hold his legs!". Simon stepped forward although the order had clearly been intended for John. John did not object. He was watching in fascinated horror. With Simon holding each ankle and The bailiff each wrist, the struggling subsided and the target presented again. THWAKKK and then the deep wracking sobs. Simon tried to squeeze the victims ankles and communicate some reassurance but Richard hardly felt the pressure above the awful pain of his arse and if he did, assumed it was a tightening only of his restraint. THHWWAK. AAAAHHHHHHHHHH! His head flew up, twisted from side to side and then fell back upon his arms. The bailiff looked worried. Bradshaw looked triumphant. Simon watched the red marks jumping out of his friend’s flesh. THWAKK. Just the deep sobbing now and retching deep breaths. The length of his slim body shuddering and shaking, quite beyond his control. But without pause Bradshaw unleashed his last and swung the rod as if his life depended upon it. AAAAAAOOOOOHHHhhhhhh.

Bradshaw proffered the cane to The bailiff. The bailiff made no move to take it.

"Your six now!"

" I think that it is just deserts". Said The bailiff. His clear meaning was that the punishment should end. Richard didn’t even hear this possible reprieve-he was locked away in a painful world of his own, not knowing which was worse his humiliation in front of his friends, the fires burning through his arse or the further agonies to come.

Bradshaw looked annoyed.

"Look, twelve was the bargain, twelve it must be.". The bailiff looked contemptuously at Bradshaw. The man was a bully. Slowly some sense of this was dawning on the prone Richard who did not dare to guess the outcome.

" Then I shall continue" said Bradshaw in a jeering voice "six more it will be".

Simon released Richard’s ankles. The bailiff held on, undecided at the wisdom of having a row with Bradshaw, who could cause him trouble later. It was Simon who resolved the impasse. He had briefly dared to hope that perhaps each of them might take two more and pay off the six collectively. But he could see that Richard wouldn’t manage his two and John didn’t look too promising for his. So he looked at Bradshaw and said:

"I let Richard there drive the boat just after the first island. I intended to let each lad have a go and then for me to drive back. I was the skipper really."

Before Bradshaw or The bailiff could take this in, Simon took Richard by the shoulders, guided him upright and pushed him gently toward his waiting companions. Then without pausing further he stretched himself over the log once again.

For a moment Bradshaw and The bailiff looked at each other, confused, as if they felt they had somehow become the victim of some elaborate practical joke. But simultaneously they realised that a solution and no loss of face had been offered and that it would be wise to get on with it.

"Six then" said Bradshaw retaining the cane and obviously very keen to use it. The other three looked on.

The livid marks of The bailiffs’ efforts were still startlingly vivid. Four neat parallel strokes, crossed by two more lines like an X and deeper round marks where the intersections occurred.

Bradshaw now hitched up his sleeve once again and touched the wicked cane to the lad’s arse, swung back in an ark, paused, descended and stopped just short of his target. He seemed satisfied at the set up. Simon had forced his head around to try to see what was happening and was just in time to see the cane descending for real. THHWWAAK. The same grunt but just a little louder. For a moment the nearest lads could not see the new stroke, then they realised that Bradshaw had succeeded in landing exactly upon a previous one, with only the slightest deviation, at the extreme ends of the marks, revealing this. THWAK this next was an even more deadly shot cut into the final turn of the cheeks at the top of Simons’ thighs. Of all places legitimate to hit this is perhaps the most tender. This time Simons head shot up and he hissed a long OOOWWW. Again each of the other lads was torn between the wish to look away and the awful fixation of the view before them. Bradshaw had settled now to an even space of long pauses after each stroke followed by a quick and vicious swish and a crack like thunder. TTWWAAKK. Now Simon had dipped his head low down between outstretched pinioned arms as if drawing into himself. To the shocked onlookers his thrashed rear looked twice it’s usual size. Very little unmarked white remained, the red wheals and even beyond and around these, a greyish abraded hue could be seen. THWAK ….. OOOOOooooohhhhh. The yelp subsiding to a shuddering moan. Now it was The bailiff who sort to squeeze the unfortunates wrists as if this might somehow get him through it. For certainly, by now, The bailiff dearly wanted it over. THWAK. Simon was absolutely silent now. All his energies and spirit turned inward. Then with out any concession or reduction the last terrifying swish and THWAK. A long silence. The shocked lads hesitated before rushing forward and helping Simon up.

They all motored back in the launch. The little dinghy pitching along behind. They left Bradshaw at his staging to secure his boats. Then they motored back to the Pub landing stage. The bailiff bought out drinks to the terrace high above the river. They were pleased not to be worrying about a court appearance. The bailiff told them that they need not steal boats in future. They should join him in the Authority’s launch. Simon seemed particularly keen on the idea. John much less so, but then he usually went along with the crowd in the end.