A Ship's Tale (22 page)

“Then you'd better have some of this,” I said, pressing some money into her hand. “I'll have little use for it while bending on sails down the road.”

Before long, the Beastly One was back among us with plenty of bright ideas for more chores. She was carrying the fascinating subject of warped floorboards when a movement outside the window caught my eye. As I watched, a black-visored cap rose up into view, followed by a set of dark eyes, nose, and moustache. This repeated itself three times. The next instant, a familiar face appeared under the visor. It was Boris, and my worries immediately multiplied. “Bloody hell,” I muttered under my breath.

The landlady broke off her discourse. “Did you say something, Mr. Flynn?” she said testily.

“No, Mrs. Beasley, I thought I saw a slate or something blow down.” She glanced halfway round, then back at me. There it came again: first the cap and then Boris's eyes. As soon as our eyes met, he beckoned to me to come outside, then sank back out of sight. I went for my coat. “Yes, I do think I should go have a look. One can't be too careful.”

“I do hope you'll be able to put it right in short order,” she said as I went to the door. I glanced at Katherine on my way out. She gave me an encouraging nod.

I found Boris sheltering near the cucumber frame.

“What's happened?” I asked, anxious to break the suspense.

“Sails! Harris saying come now.” So, Harris was back. I was ready to dash off down the footpath straightaway, but he led me towards the road.

“I have car,” he said, and pointed to Harris's car. This really was urgent, then.

“Here, just a moment Boris, come into the pub.” I hurried round the front as he trailed me protesting, and we went inside. “Wait right here,” I told him and went to the inner door. I looked in. The corridor was empty, while from the kitchen I could hear the landlady in the thick of some lengthy lecture. I ran upstairs and dragged out my chest, wrestling it down the ladder. The voice in the kitchen still droned on, so I hefted my burden and bore it quickly into the pub. Boris raised his black eyebrows, but he saw the sense in seizing what might be my last opportunity to avoid carrying it all the way to the ship. We were just able to wedge it into the open boot of the little Morris. Then I ran back in the kitchen door.

Katherine and Mrs. Beastly looked round as I came in. “Well,” I panted, “I'll need to be out there for a good while yet. There are a number of things that need my attention.” I gave Katherine a look. “Things are simply
sailing
about in this wind.”

“Oh, well, that's very industrious of you,” said my soon-to-be-former employer. Katherine watched me as I went back out, her eyes full of hope and enquiry.

Between the gale and the state of Harris's car, I don't know if I'd have made the trip with anyone else but Boris at the wheel. The car laboured along against raking headwinds, and I began to have my doubts as to whether it would reach the mooring. I could probably have walked it as quickly, but not carrying that chest. At last we sighted the masts of the
Bonnie
Clyde
and drew up near Harris's lorry at the water's edge.

The yardarms were already tilted down towards the embankment, and facing them was the open back of the lorry that was crammed to the gills with sails. I walked over and eagerly examined the fresh stitching on the sails. It looked firm and even and built for the ages.

Harris's voice came over the roar of the wind. “Flynn, what's kept you?” he bellowed. “Let's have some of that strong back you advertised.”

Boris came up and shouldered me aside. He laid hold of one great roll of sail canvas and tugged it part way out from the load. From nowhere, a whole group of the orphanage crew materialised and bore it onto the gangway. Fortunately this was wide enough to permit us to roll it up. When we'd heaved the roll onto the deck, one young man brushed off his hands and faced me. I knew that red hair.

“Mr. Flynn!” he cried. “It's me, Larry.”

I shook his hand heartily. “I remember you very well, Larry. It's you and Todd who are the short-wave experts, as I recall.” He nodded.

“So, are you ready for the great undertaking?” I said.

“You'll find no shirkers amongst Starke's Raiders,” he replied stoutly. Another lad came up, with flashing dark eyes and a pock-marked face. “Here's Ted. He's a real one for hard work.” Ted made a rude noise at Larry, saluted me, then loped off down the gangway. More boys appeared, and the operation was in full swing. The wind was less of a gale now, though it still tore about us as the lorry was emptied of canvas. Most of the sails were laid out, ready for hauling up. Thank God the rain had stopped. Once Boris was satisfied that all was in order, he went quickly aloft and directed the hauling of sails onto the tops of the yardarms. Boris had already decided which of the upper yards to trust and signalled here yes, there no to their critical placements. It was backbreaking work handling the vast rolls, but at least there was no rain soaking them to add more weight.

Harris paused in the hoisting of a great mainsail onto the deck, wiping his brow on his sleeve. He pulled his cap back on firmly and resumed his labours. The back of the lorry now gaped empty. “Harris,” I shouted, “is that everything?”

“Everything but a few scraps,” he yelled back. I looked at the bundles lying on deck and those along the bank. It scarcely seemed possible that so much could have fitted into the lorry.

“Now we are bending on with these,” announced Boris. If it was hard before, now it became even harder and dangerous. We'd be handling the canvas unrolled, which made it even more unwieldy and gave the wind more to take hold of. I could see the potential of a real accident in the offing unless we were very careful. As we hauled the expanses of sail over the gunnels, they'd never felt heavier.

I groaned. “At times like this, we could make good use of those circus elephants.”

Harris cast me a sour look and kept doggedly to his task. I saw Bowman emerge on deck, looking on with shining eyes. He seemed to have dropped twenty years, but none of us would let him lift so much as a finger. He was content to be witness to this great day. He left the task to Boris's supervision and kept busy with Edward. It was just as well that he didn't see the gaudy striped tents now fitted as sails.

We kept on steadily until dusk, when the wind at last died down allowing us to work that much faster. The sky had almost cleared by the time the sun went down, and there was a splendid scarlet and golden sunset to cheer us into dusk. Red sky at night, sailor's delight! Lanterns were brought out as the car and lorry were turned and angled to direct their headlamps onto the rigging. Bread and cheese were passed round, and then we were back at it.

Later that evening, I felt the job had progressed enough so I could go back to the Inn and let Katherine know how matters stood. It was drawing near the time for her to be coming along herself. I stopped for a moment to marvel at it all. This was really happening! I asked Harris if he could spare me for a short space, and he waved me off.

He told me in no uncertain terms that he wanted my arse back at work as soon as I could manage it.

“And bring the rest of you with it!” he added in parting.

As the car and lorry were occupied, I was the intrepid hiker once again. I was glad I brought down my chest when the chance offered, and wondered how many more times I'd walk between the Inn and ship before it was all done. It couldn't be many, I told myself happily as I set out, scarcely noticing my sore muscles.

As I reached the Inn, I saw the last customers were departing as the pub was just closing. I looked to see if Katherine was in the kitchen and narrowly missed being seen by the landlady. She'd come round outside from her door to the pub entrance calling for Martin, who responded with a weary grunt.

“Are you quite sure Mr. Flynn isn't in here? Well, I can't think what's become of him. Do you suppose he could have been blown off in the gale? You should get the ladder and have a look on the roof. I've heard of instances where people vanished and were found months later in the chimney. Now what's become of that girl? She was here but a moment ago and I had a recipe I wanted to discuss—” This oratory was mercifully cut short by her pushing the door shut as she went inside. Poor Martin! I felt bad about leaving him to her, but he'd worked here for years and was accustomed to her tiresome nattering. Now that Katherine wasn't in the pub, I went back round to her cottage. To my disappointment, all was dark. I peered in at the kitchen window, but couldn't see her there either. I didn't like to go inside till I was certain Mrs. B. had retired for the night. It would certainly be awkward for her to catch me there. I wasn't sure what explanation I'd give her for my absence, and I really didn't care to deal with her at all tonight. Or ever again, for that matter! Now
there
was a thought.

The wind had died, and it was a crisp still night, with only faint stirrings from the pond and the nearby hooting of an owl. The owl seemed very close. Hoo…Hoo, it called softly. I looked round and then spotted a hooded figure emerging from the shrubbery.

It was Katherine in her cape, trying to get my attention. “I'd just got off, and I was about to come down and be sure everything was all right at the ship,” she whispered. “Then I saw you creeping about and wanted to catch your ear. Couldn't you tell it was me?”

“At first I thought it was an owl,” I said.

“They say the owl was a baker's daughter,” she breathed in a little-girl voice.

She came to me and clung round my neck. “Oh God, I am glad to be leaving this place! I'm quite giddy with it and I don't care if I have to cook for a whole battleship.”

Suddenly we were startled by headlamps as a car came down the hill. We crouched down, watching as it turned in and stopped at the roadside. O'Connell! Well, having him here would certainly make matters easier for the boys and us! We made our way back to Katherine's cottage and sat on the bed in the dark for fear of a candle revealing our presence.

I spoke softly, “We've been rigging up the sails, and so far it all looks fine. We expect to be ready to move out on the morning tide. All the old barque needs now is a pretty young cook, if one might be available.”

“Carry me off and I'm yours,” said Katherine, “Oh…me and my luggage. I did a bit of shopping from the list. I persuaded the Beasley that we were dangerously low on certain items and she sent me off to the village.”

“Out in that windy gale? The heartless old witch!” I cried.

She laughed. “It was my idea, silly. I took her car, so I wasn't really out in it.”

“You drove that death-trap?” I said.

“Very slowly,” she said. “I didn't care for it, I assure you. But I'd set myself to do it, and do it I did.”

“You could have been killed!” I cried in horror. “Don't you ever do such a foolhardy thing again! I can see I don't dare let you out of my sight for a minute.”

She patted my cheek. “Lucky thing for me then, I'm just going off on a nice safe voyage.”

“Well, that's different. You won't be alone,” I quipped. “Now where's the luggage?”

She stood and looked out. “Beasley's light is out.” She struck a match and lit the candle. “I've got my suitcase, trunk, and this hamper. I put the new supplies in with my other kitchen gear. Wait till you see my granny's pudding basin. We dug it out after the bombing and it wasn't even cracked.”

I surveyed this assemblage with dismay. “This is a lot to carry.”

“Well, I don't intend coming back for them. How much do you have?” She asked.

“My trunk's down at the ship.” I added, “All I have here is my duffel.”

“I saw it in your room when I took up clean clothes earlier,” said Katherine.

“I'll fetch them down so we can be on our way.” Alert to any sign of Beastly activity, I went through the kitchen garden where Purdy hissed at me from the shadows. “That's your last hiss at me, mate,” I muttered and hurried to the kitchen door. The light was on and Martin sat at the table reading
The
Times
. He looked up as I entered and set down the paper.

“Oh,” he said, “here's our wandering boy.”

I hardly knew what to say to him. “Hello, Martin,” I managed at last, “ah…I'll be back in a moment.” I went upstairs and retrieved the duffel bag, stuffing the clean clothes into it. I took a last look at the room with the memories of Katherine in it and went back down into the kitchen.

“Well, Martin, I'm going off and Katherine with me.”

He nodded. “I thought as much.”

“We haven't known each other a long time, but you've been a good friend to me, and I appreciate it. We may yet be calling on you for more indirect assistance. I hope you'll be able to manage, though I can't tell you more until you hear about it.”

“Well, that sounds mysterious enough to keep me speculating until I do hear, but I'll help if I can,” Martin replied in his usual amicable way.

I put out my hand and he shook it warmly. Another thought struck me and troubled my conscience. I reached into my pocket and pulled out some money. “Mrs. B. overpaid me for today, so if you could give her this when you think it appropriate…” I counted out a half-day's pay and set it on the table. “That's it then. I'll be off,” I finished awkwardly.

“Goodbye, Flynn,” he said, “And best of luck to both of you.”

I took my leave of him then. Back at the cottage, we tried to devise the best way of carrying the luggage. We carried her trunk between us, with the hamper riding on top of it, holding my duffel on my shoulder with a hand free for her suitcase. We tried this and got as far as the front drive before it became too painful and difficult. We had to set down the lot. This would never do. If we only had some kind of cart…“Wait!” I said. I ran back to the shed and brought out the Inn's wheelbarrow. I'd kept it well oiled so it never squeaked, and on the damp ground, no rumble should betray us if we went carefully. Katherine gave me silent applause at the idea.