NIGHT CAME TOO SOON

Part 2

At long last, the days became warmer and the boat had a lot
 of company.
People of  walked down to the beach, and the children started
 dipping their toes in the water. The little blonde girl came
 often. She never failed to say a few words to the boat which
 became quite fond of her and looked forward to her visits.
 She never came alone but was always accompanied by an
 adult. Sometimes she brought a friend.

One day, the three men who had been so interested in the boat,
 came carrying some bulky  things. They were strong men for they
 heaved many heavy things that they left by the side of the boat.
 There seemed to be an engine, cans of paint and many planks.
 Finally, they seemed satisfied and decided that work should begin
 in earnest. The boat was excited.

Laboriously , the men built a captain's cabin fit for a king.
It took many weeks because they weren't carpenters but they got
 it done. The fitted in a new engine --- it wasn't brand new
 but they said it would work well. They built 
wooden seats on each side of the boat's inside.

When they worked,
 the chidren often played in the warm water, always under the
 watchful eyes of adults. Some built castles in the sand. The little
blond girl often sat by herself, reading, but she would look
 up now and then and smile at the boat. Once she asked one
 of the men:"Uncle Michael, why are you fixing the boat?"
 
"We may want to take a little trip some time," said Uncle
 Michael, smiling at the child.

"A trip to where?" asked the girl."I like it right here, at home."

"Oh, it wouldn't be a long trip," said Uncle Michael,
 somewhat evasively, thought the boat. "You would come home
 in no time." He picked up the paint can and continued painting
 the boat with a blue colour. When he turned away from the
 boat, his face fell into thoughtful, sad lines.

"Uncle Michael, may I help?" asked the child. " I know how to
 paint; Tjotja Tamara taught me."

"You know, I'm bigger," said Uncle Michael." This takes time.
 Why don't you go and write a poem for your father? He loves your poems."

"Oh, that's what grown-ups always say when they want to be rid
 of me!" cried the girl with disappointment.
 "The 'spirit' has to be on me to write a poem ... besides
 I'm seven years old and quite big enough to help."

"Yes, you're quite grown up" said Uncle Michael gently.
 But leave this work for the men; it's a little messy and no work
 for young ladies."
He picked up the paint brush and went tback to work
 His face fell into sad, thoughtful lines.

The boat was thoughtful. It was getting fixed up, and it was
 obvious that it would soon be on the water again. The boat would
 have preferred the colour red but it had heard the men say that
  blue would be less visible. One said that gray would be
 better still but it seemed they had to use what they could find
 and the choices were few. The men had to use whatever they
 could get in the "black market".
The pleasant summer
 days passed all too quickly. The boat was spruced up and his little
She still liked picking mushrooms with her friends; they grew
 in abundance in the forest next to her home. By now she could
 distinguish the poisonous mushrooms from the good ones. A large,
 fleshy, purple mushroom was a sought - after prize.
 Her grandmother, who sometimes came to the beach, was always
 delighted with the mushrooms the children brought because
 she could make wonderful sauces from them. Despite the war,
 the resouceful family managed to eat well. There was much fish from the sea,
 meat from local farmers, and vegetables and fruit now
 grew on the land once covered by beautiful flower gardens.





CONTINUE







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