The Tales of Jim Murray, The Last Cowboy of the Spergebiedt!

[Rhona]

Hey! you're cheating - you can't keep changing the date of the next installment......I'm keeping an eye on you   :emot77: 

[Michael Alexander]

"Somewhere up on the roof, a piece of wood had kept up it's constant knocking against a support

beam, the cold wind , in unison with the distant waves addeded to the late night symphony.Jim

lifted his unfocused eyes from the pages,he glanced over his right shoulder,wondering if it had

been the book that had planted the seed of suspicion in his tired mind? He reckoned it must have

been about the fourth time that evening, that he had to avert his eyes from the book, just to

placify his mind, perhaps to ensure himself, that there was indeed, nobody else in that cluttered

room with him.

Slowly sliding the bookmark between the pages, his eyes focused on the window, "This is stupid, I'm

in the middle of the desert, a restricted part of the desert at that, there can't be anyone out

there", he thought to himself.

With a thundering crash, the stack of yellow books that had been sitting on the left hand corner of

the table,tumbled to the wooden floor,causing Jim to sit upright on the bed. Almost as if the

window had burst open, an unseen gust had picked up the remaining diverse articles from the table

and quckly threw them into an all consuming circular motion in the centre of the room.As the vortex

picked up speed,a hairbrush narrowly shot passed Jim's head, smashing against the wall....Jim sat,

staring, motionless in a state of pure shock, his mind unable to comprehend the unexplainable, that

chaotic scene in front of him.....books, papers and clothes tumbling in an uncontrolable flight in

the middle of his dimly lit room......."

[SandyB]

A vortex  .. interesting ....

[Rhona]

More more more!!!

[SandyB]

We  want  to  be  released from  the  vortex ..tell  us  more ..

[Dalene Steenkamp (Coetzee)]

I could just kick Mike for this anticipation..........  hurry up and tell the rest!

[georg ruf jr.]

 :emot19:

You guys are even more fun than the story...

[Michael Alexander]

The peanut gallery......   

[Rhona]

This is worse than watching a brilliant series on tv..........geez Mike - out with it.....

[Michael Alexander]

Ok.. here's the full version up until where I am now, I put it all together in order to make a bit more sense...

"Ok, here's that Ghost story that was relayed to me by phone from Jim Murray in Jhb. Before I start, I think it would help if I told you about Jim Murray briefly.

Jim Murray is a pensioner, who now lives in Alberton, South Africa, and telephoned me one day out of the blue after hearing about the website. He explained to me that he worked up in the Spergebiedt in the early 60's but did not work for CDM, but rather for a company that had a contract with CDM.

He went on to tell me that he was a qualified diver and that he was part of a six man (European) crew that were involved in a multitude of tasks up at Elizabeth Bay. The reason why I stated that they were European was that they were the only white people up in that section of the Spergebiedt. The nearest other white people were in Luderitz. They also had a small contingent of 8 ovambo workers to help with the more manual work.

Now just to bring a few of you up to speed about Elizabeth Bay. This town is a ghost town. It was last in operation sometime in the early 1900's and was run by the Colonial Germans. There is a link on the main site at (http://www.oranjemundonline.com/ElizabethbayandBogenfels/index.htm). This gives you a better idea of the area.

Now Jim and the others were almost like the original pioneers of that end of the deserted Spergebiedt. One chap was a geologist, the other a blaster..... they all had various skills and worked together as a team. They did a lot of survey work, measuring tides, movements of the sands, prospecting and my favourite, exploring in their free time.

The only place they could live at while up in Elizabeth Bay, was the abandoned General Mangers house, which had been rigged up with a generator for power. This house, if you look at the photos on the main site, looks imposing with a panoramic view over the ghost town and the actual bay of Elizabeth.
They also had a house allocated to them back in Oranjemund. This house was used for when the team would finish work on a Friday , all jump into the land rovers and head to Oranjemund for the dance and song, which was the infamous CDM off weekend. One of the Europeans would always have to stay behind to keep an eye on the Ovambo Workers. The Ovambo workers did not reside with the Europeans, but lived in a small compound which was situated at the bottom of the hill on which the General Manager's house stood.

It was on one of these off weekends, that our story actually begins......



It was sometime in the early 60's and it had been one of those long dry weeks up at the old abandoned settlement of Elizabeth Bay, but Friday had arrived and five members of the team were clambering onto the Landover, in preparation for the dusty drive south through the Spergebiedts never ending sand dunes. In a few hours, they would all be sitting in the famous Casey's bar of Oranjemund, knocking back a few well deserved beers.

This time around, Jim Murray had drawn the short straw, it was his turn to stay alone in the old double story house. It looked out of place, this German style building of brick and mortar, with wooden roofing, perched on a desolate rocky outcrop, overlooking the sand covered mining town of Elizabeth Bay. Jim waved and turned his back, as the Landrover merged into one with the shimmering afternoon desert. Looking up at the building, he wondered what he would be doing with the rest of his solitary weekend.

The rest of the late afternoon faded as the sun disappeared behind the rolling Atlantic waves to the West. The Ovambo helper, Sam, said Good Night to Jim as he picked up his paraffine lantern and headed down the rocky track to the compound at the foot of the hill. Jim glanced up as the first crystal clear stars broke through the ever darkening skies. For a change the mist had not rolled in off the Atlantic. He took another sip of the beer that he had been nursing since his companions had departed. Nobody to play darts against, too dark to go out and explore.... only thing left would be to head upstairs to his room, perhaps a good book might do the trick.

The big wooden windows that looked out from Jim's room had one of the best views out towards the bay to the west, the only downside was the fact that the icy cold prevailing wind would often against the window, causing many a sleepless night. In order to prevent the incessant banging of the window, Jim had taken it apon himself to nails throught the aging wooden window frames, thus securing the windows from opening. As a further good measure, he pushed the dressing table against the window.

Jim removed his heavy, damp boots and swung his tall muscular frame onto the bed, book in hand, facing the wall, he removed the bookmark.

Somewhere up on the roof, a piece of wood had kept up it's constant knocking against a support beam, the cold wind , in unison with the distant waves addeded to the late night symphony.Jim lifted his unfocused eyes from the pages,he glanced over his right shoulder,wondering if it had been the book that had planted the seed of suspicion in his tired mind? He reckoned it must have been about the fourth time that evening, that he had to avert his eyes from the book, just to placify his mind, perhaps to ensure himself, that there was indeed, nobody else in that cluttered room with him.

Slowly sliding the bookmark between the pages, his eyes focused on the window, "This is stupid, I'm in the middle of the desert, a restricted part of the desert at that, there can't be anyone out there", he thought to himself.

With a thundering crash, the stack of yellow books that had been sitting on the left hand corner of the table, tumbled to the wooden floor, causing Jim to sit upright on the bed. Almost as if the window had burst open, an unseen gust had picked up the remaining diverse articles from the table and quickly threw them into an all consuming circular motion in the centre of the room. As the vortex picked up speed, a hairbrush narrowly shot passed Jim's head, smashing against the wall....Jim sat, staring, motionless in a state of pure shock, his mind unable to comprehend the unexplainable, that chaotic scene in front of him.....books, papers and clothes tumbling in an uncontrollable flight in the middle of his dimly lit room.......

"This cannot be happening.....It's impossible!", Jim thought to himself, regaining his senses glancing towards the window, as a two hundred page novel managed to extract itself from the ever spinning vortex, slamming itself against the old, unvarnished door.

Deep down, Jim was hoping that the rustic wooden window had somehow managed to be blown open by the desert winds, thus to an extent helping to explain the unnatural events occurring before his widened eyes., Jim's disheartened eyes fell apon the still sealed window, firmly shuttered by the bent nails he had impaled into the aging timber frames when they had first arrived at this abandoned colonial building.

Surrendering the little courage he had left, he spun himself back onto the bed as the book he had just been reading was extracted from his white knuckled fingers and absorbed into the ever widening vortex.

He did the only sensible thing he could think of, a kind of child like mentality, perhaps a memory that had been instantly rekindled, a memory he had forgotten, from when in his childhood, he had reason to feel fear... a time to hide, turn away from the threat and with his hands covering his ears, he turned his back, pressing down onto his creaking bed, he pressed his face and body flat against the bare wall, hoping his exposed and shaking back would protect him from the unexplainable.

No matter how hard he pressed his hands over his ears, no matter how much he endeavored to push his body into the wall, that sound would not subside. It was a sound that he would later describe as that of being attached to the roof of a Skymaster plane, with every wind in the world hurtling around you in an unorganized and extremely dangerous fashion. The only noise that needed to be added, was that of a screeching steam train rushing through the middle of the vortex to compliment the swirling winds.

Almost as sudden as ......"

[Dalene Steenkamp (Coetzee)]

You must have been a Torturer in a previous life  -  I am sure of it now!

[Michael Alexander]

And, my dear Orange Aunty.... you may indeed be right....   

[georg ruf jr.]

He's making fun of us Dalene.

[SandyB]

next episode ??

[Florrie van Zyl (Muir)]

Even though I am mad at you for making us beg for more, I must compliment you on your style of writing. I am sure Jim would not have given the story in so much detail over the phone, and if I'm right and you have elaborated on it, I think you should consider writing a novel.