15 year old Jake handled the Rib with great aplomb as his bedraggled family scrambled aboard at the top of West Cross hill, teenager Amy was still texting as she held her phone clear of the water. Walter, the huge Newfoundland who’d found the RIB settled down inside with a loud huff. Mike his owner had spotted the RIB spinning in circles with its dead owner. ‘Fetch,’ he’d yelled to Walter. There was grandma huddled in the corner muttering to herself, granddad was clutching ‘Sapiens’ trying to read and teenage Ian was busy checking out the RIB’s supplies. They all wore wetsuits and life jackets but were in a pretty sorry state. Swansea Bay had turned into the Sea of Swansea and disappeared under a massive 120 foot tsunami. Despite constant warnings in all the media and loudspeakers bellowing out across the town few had been properly prepared for the devastation.
So what serendipity had led Walter to finding a fully equipped abandoned RIB near their West Cross home? Sixteen stone Walter with his webbed paws was fully trained, his one mission in life to rescue humans at peril in the water. When Mike yelled ‘Fetch’ he’d spotted Bill Hawke’s head being sliced to bits by the prop as the RIB swung in a perfect ellipse back on its tracks. Bill had forgotten to attach the ‘dead man’s switch’ which would have stopped the engine which had churned him into fleshy gobbets within seconds. Five minutes earlier he’d been sitting astride the jockey seat, a can of Stella in his hand sneering at all the screaming, drowning, desperate people yelling:
‘Losers, you’re a load of lemmings wailing and moaning, it’ll never happen you said, it’s fake news. What a shower, you crowd of cretins, you losers. It’s every man for himself now I’m taking care of number one.’
Then out of the blue one of the pod of dolphins which had been bouncing along in his speedboat’s wake took a mighty leap on top of Bill knocking him into the sea. The 50 grand he’d spent on his pride and joy, the brand new Brig Navigator 730 was a dead loss now, nor were the twin powerful engines driving it with 225 HP any use at all. Useless too was his smart slim line dry suit and his neat lifejacket, a total waste of space because Bill Hawkes was no more his macerated body already feeding the hungry fish. Meanwhile on board Ramraider the seven survivors of Swansea’s tsunami took stock of their new home. Most at home was Walter, of course, as he accepted the thanks and praise and guzzled all the treats showered upon him he slobbered just as much as he usually did then produced an enormous fart but today Walter could do no wrong. Captain Jake Leaned over to pat him. ‘Our hero,’ he said grinning widely. ‘Our hero’ they all replied toasting their canine rescuer
