A Ship's Tale (26 page)

“Yes, tea.” I showed him the cup.

“What are all those bits floating about in there?”

“That's the tea—it's chamomile tea.”

“Well, I don't know what the devil that is,” he snorted. He took the handle of the cup, smelt it, and shrugged. “At least it's hot.” He took a sip and then handed it back to me. “By God, that stuff tastes just like lawn drainings! That's no proper drink for a sailor. Why, when we'd set out for the day, I'd have a mug with me that size filled with Scotch or brandy. Even in port,” he sighed. “Yes, that was fine for keeping the blood warm.”

“Right,” I said. “And had it not been for those large cups of Scotch or brandy, you probably wouldn't know what lawn drainings taste like.” At that, he muttered something and walked away.

The sky was growing clearer by the minute, and the sun was coming out. We took off our heavy woollen coats, staying warm in our sweaters as the morning wore on.

At last the tug's engines slowed to a rumble and the towrope to the ship behind slackened.

The tug captain came out. “Now lads, cast us off that line and we'll take the tug alongside.”

“Alongside?” I whispered to Harris.

“Not to worry,” assured Harris.

The tug moved along, circling the
Bonnie Clyde
, while Boris stood at the helm like a figure of stone. As we got closer, he threw down the rope ladder that was fixed amidships on her starboard side to make it easier to climb aboard. A deckhand threw him a line so he could tie off the tug to the ship.

The tug captain returned, “It's now time to go disconnect the pump and take away whatever else needs removing. If you want to set that last bit of sail, you'd best go and do it now.” As he squinted up at the rigging, he noticed that more sail had been bent on the arms than he had previously seen. “Where did all that come from?” he puzzled.

Being noticed at this point made no difference whatsoever, for the die was cast, and everyone on board was anticipating the call to stations. As the photographer made ready for his pictures, all hell was about to break loose.

Harris turned about and in a whisper asked, “Ready?”

“Yes,” I returned nervously. I turned to Robert who gave me a wink and a victory sign with his fingers. There was no turning back now.

Harris then wheeled, seized one of the government officials by his collar, and slammed him against one of the bulkheads of the tug. “What was that you said?” he roared in his great deep voice.

“I didn't say anything!” the man squeaked in alarm. This was in fact quite true, but Harris was brewing up a storm.

“I heard what you said! Asking me how I even know
who
my father is? Because my mother
told
me? You bastard!” He now roughly put him up against the derrick. Everyone came running out of the wheelhouse in alarm. I was sure Harris was going to kill this fellow; he certainly had
me
convinced. Suddenly it came to me that
this
was the diversionary tactic designed to get the attention of everyone on board, and it worked! Feeling stupid about not picking up on this at the outset, I immediately sprang into action.

In keeping with the imaginary grievance, I now spoke up as a witness, confirming that this man had rudely questioned Harris's parentage. I also kept an eye open in case anyone should try to help the official by trying to subdue Harris. At the same time, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Robert sliding into the wheelhouse. Harris now yelled at his victim, “I don't know why I'm even bothering to touch someone like you. You and your kind just make me want to vomit.” And he lifted the man clear off the deck and dropped him in a heap next to the aft winding gear.

The captain intervened, “All right you two, break it up!” he commanded. The other official went and knelt by his colleague. “I say, that was bloody awful! What was it you said to him?”

Harris's victim, still trembling from the experience, found it hard to say anything. “I didn't say…I…I…didn't…I…,” and he leaned back against the windlass, trying to compose himself. Luckily for him, Harris wasn't actually angry.

Just then Boris cried out, “Coming down! Coming down!” Looking up, I saw that he'd swung one of the ship's booms over the side and was lowering one of the pumps down to the tug.

“Wait a minute!” the captain yelled out. “I don't know where I'm going to stow that.”

“Best to find a place fast,” Boris cried, “or I give a little suggestion.” The deckhand cleared a space on the tug's deck and the pump was then lowered carefully into place. I was wondering how we were going to get by less a pump, then I saw that the pump that had been lowered was one that didn't work. We still had two others aboard the
Bonnie
of which I was very glad. The thought of using the antiquated hand pump method was not something even to consider.

Robert now appeared at the
Bonnie
's rail, having left the tug's wheelhouse, and got himself on board the ship by way of the rope ladder. He was wearing the smuggest smile, like a kid who'd just put a drawing pin on the teacher's chair. Later he told us that the helmsman was so anxious to find out what was happening that he'd practically begged Robert to steer for a little while as he rushed outside. “Well, of course I
couldn't
really refuse, but at the same time, I know as much about tugs as I do about catching tigers. At least I had plenty of time to fix the magnet in place and pull out the handset.”

Harris quickly climbed up to the deck of the
Bonnie
. I hustled right behind him, but before I could lay hand on the rope ladder, the captain got between, crying out, “Here, what the bloody hell is going on?”

“Here, nothing!” Harris replied. He waved at me to hurry up the ladder, but one of the government officials got there first and started to climb in my place. Suddenly, it came crashing down onto the deck of the tug. Apparently Harris's weight had weakened it just to the breaking point.

“What the devil?” the captain sputtered with a curse. I stood in surprise. Without the ladder, how was I to get on board? No one had thought we might be doing without it. Everyone seemed puzzled for a moment. Then the line that had been used for the pump was lowered from the same boom, with Boris yelling, “Grab on, grab on. Hold tight!” I jumped, and was pulled on board so quickly that when the boom swung, it nearly threw me over the port side, but thankfully I was none the worse for wear. Once I was on board, Robert and Boris cast off the towlines.

No one on board the tug had yet realised what was going on, and one of them yelled, “Throw down that rope. We'll tie the ladder back on.” But just as the words were leaving his lips, the bo'sun's pipe rang out its shrill tune in the wind.

Immediately there came the thunder of feet from the fo'c's'le and decks below. Boys were swarming up the standing rigging, all the way up the ratlines and out to the massive yardarms. They were full of pent-up energy and rushed to their stations with cries of excitement. Harris was keeping an eye over the side just in case anyone should try to get aboard, but the party on board the tug were all standing there completely speechless.

“Cast off foremast gaskets!” Bowman yelled. The ties holding the furled sails to their yards were untied, the buntlines and clewlines slackened, and the sails bellied out from the yards. Some heated discussions had been about how to set the sails; some in favour of all at once, others mast by mast, and this is what we were now doing. After the foremast came the main and then the mizzen. I think if we had tried to explode all the sails out at one go, the strain on the ship could have caused one of the masts to come dangerously close to breaking a yardarm or worse. As it was, the ship groaned as the canvas on each mast was lowered and caught the wind that dug the bow deeper into the water. Finally all the strongest topgallants and topsails were set. What a sight the ship was, as she heeled to meet the wind and surged away from the tug. The crews on deck were then turning the huge yardarms to match those already set to take the wind.

As the circus tents took their first breath of sea air and began to unfurl, the mud that was used to conceal the fact that these were not old sails came to life with what looked like a magician's illusion. As they bellowed out, the dried mud gave off a cloud of dust into the wind and the sails appeared as from a magic cloud. None of us, however, had given any thought to the mud that dried in larger bits, which now rained down upon the deck with Bowman receiving a generous dusting.

“Bloody great idea of yers,
Mr. Harris
!” He roared, as he brushed some away with his hands and reached for his neckerchief, but the immediate task of sweeping the deck or thoroughly brushing clothing would have to wait—we had a ship to get underway.

Those aboard the tug watched this, but as we left its side I could hear one of the officials shrieking, “Piracy, they're making off with the ship! Piracy!”

The tug captain immediately went into his wheelhouse to radio in his status and report this completely unforeseen turn of events, only to come out a moment later shouting and waving his fist. We could all hear his words clearly. “You bastards! You've stolen my handset. I'll get you!” He ran out on deck and proceeded to treat us to the longest string of obscenities and profanity I've ever heard anywhere. Not only were insults heaped upon us, but upon every relative we ever had, ancestors and generations yet unborn. This chap was definitely a professional! I doubt anyone could beat him in a swearing contest. Even Bowman and Harris were suitably impressed by his expressive abilities, and we could hear snickers from the boys. No matter what the crew was hearing; the captain went back into the wheelhouse after exhausting his expletives. We could see black smoke pouring from the funnel along with the water boiling at the stern of the tug. She was going to give chase! The photographer started clicking as events unfolded before his very eyes, and the reporter was taking everything down as quickly as he could.

Now all that our boys had learnt and practised would have to pay off. After the initial setting of sails, Boris continued at the helm. The boys started to walk the capstan in earnest, bringing the yards round to capture the maximum wind. In all, we had set sixteen of the largest sails. I heard that in a half-gale a three-master set like that could do fifteen knots. Unfortunately we were not in a half-gale, but by the skill of Boris's steering and the response of the boys to his orders, we would soon be seeing twelve knots. But what of the time till we built up speed?

The tug captain, thoroughly enraged at all that happened, was capable of ramming us. We didn't want him to get athwart our bow. This would slow us down by forcing us to veer and tack, which would quickly exhaust the boys as they laboured to reset the yards at each manoeuvre. For a while it was really touch and go. The tug caught up and slowly started to overhaul us down the ship's length. This went on for what seemed like hours. At one stage, the tug's bow was level with the foremast. The tug captain's deckhands threw lines trying to grab a stanchion or a cleat so they could reverse their engines and slow us, but these were caught or cut before they grew taut. Then very slowly, we started to draw away. Tugs can manage twelve knots for a short distance, but are more comfortable at nine or ten. Their engines aren't designed for racing.

As we drew away, Harris walked aft waving something in his fist that had a long curly tail. It was the handset. His voice thundered across the gap, “You son of a wharf rat, call yourself a sailor? Never, unless you served aboard one of these,” and his arm swung wide in a circling gesture that took in the
Bonnie Clyde
—rather like a man would draw his sweetheart to him. The gesture indicated so much love and affection. He laughed at the sight of the captain jerking about in his frustration, while obscenities flew across the ever-widening gap.

Edward now pulled the canvas hood off the binnacle, and there sat the ship's compass gleaming in the clear light of day. His spreading smile told all. Boris handed over the steering to Harris and went aloft to check on the boys' work. I could hear him praising and damning, but on the whole, more of the former than the latter. He came down to show the deck crew how to coil and stow the ends of the sheets and lines holding the yards and sails. This was something they hadn't been able to practice before for lack of rope. There was much to learn from practical experience that we had no opportunity to teach them before.

Bowman and Edward were poring over charts and taking sightings of the sun to determine our exact position. The wind was set fair for us, blowing from the south-west and fresh. Soon all we could see of the tug was a smudge on the horizon.

The whole thing suddenly hit me like a blow on the shoulders and I had to hold fast to the gunnel. We'd done it! We were on our way. The most dangerous part was to come, but we were all together in our purpose, come what may. I went below to find Katherine, to share the sheer sweetness of this time with her. She was in her element and had been able to get a fire going. Soon I found myself sitting comfortably with a mug of hot tea in my hands. I looked on drowsily as Katherine busied herself preparing our first meal afloat. This must be close to absolute bliss. And the real adventure had only just begun.

Chapter 15

SAILING AWAY

There was no time to sit about idly dreaming, now that the
Bonnie
was once more alive and doing battle with the sea! The crew was busy wrestling and trimming the sails as they slapped in the breeze. I went on deck to find Bowman looking over the stern as if half-expecting to see the tug reappear. He slapped his knee and rubbed his hands together in obvious enjoyment of what had happened.

He turned back to Harris and Edward with a smile. “Well, lads,” he began. His attention was suddenly drawn to the sails now stretching from the mast. At least three of them were decoratively displaying the broad stripes that had once enlivened the circus tent. His smile faded as he turned to Harris, pointing aloft at the striped canvas.

“What the bloody hell is that? I told ye we weren't going to use those things. I told ye they weren't necessary!” Bowman shouted.

“Now come on, Uncle Billy,” Harris said, putting his hand firmly on the old man's shoulder, “we're using everything possible to catch the wind. If I remember correctly, you said you'd even fly your nightshirt. So go and fetch it, will you?”

Bowman was not to be cajoled. “Bugger it!” he cried. “There's not much I can do about it now, but it'll be damned embarrassing if anyone sees us looking like this.”

Harris threw up his hands and shrugged. After one more look, Bowman walked away shaking his head.

The boys were running round the deck carrying out Boris's orders. He was trying to get every ounce of power out of the wind. The boys were first on the brace winches, adjusting the lower yards, and then hauling the halyards to the upper yards to bring those in line. Having made a couple of corrections, Boris told the boys to stand down for a while as we followed our course south through the English Channel.

Katherine put her head up out the hatchway. “Can I come up now?”

Harris spoke up. “Yes, but be careful of all the coiled rope lying about.”

I went over and helped her out of the hatchway and steadied her along the rail. We were still finding our sea legs, even Harris. It was too easy to miss the motion of the deck as the ship rolled and heeled even slightly to the pull of the waves and the push of the wind. Katherine gazed out at the expanse of waves, and I pointed out the faint trace of the tug's smoke disappearing in the distance.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” she said, “but what's to stop them radioing in to give away our position and which course we're taking?”

Harris nodded in agreement, “That's a very good point. However, they'd be needing this.” He pulled out a long curly cord and a microphone with a touch-key at the top. It was the handset Robert had “borrowed.”

Harris smiled, “Without this, no one's going to find out a single thing until they get back to port! Bear in mind, they don't know Morse code anyway, as I found out while chatting with the tug captain.”

Boris had just come down from the rigging and darted up when he saw the handset in Harris's hand. “This is it!” he said excitedly. “This is last part we need for radio.” I realised that Boris had not seen the theft, nor Harris taunting the tug captain.

“That's right,” Harris said with a knowing smile, “I couldn't find a whole radio anywhere in the scrap-yard. By the time I started looking, most of the radios had already been removed and others had parts missing. But, Flynn,” and he turned to me, “I heard that you have some experience using a radio. I hereby appoint you Chief Signalman and Radio Operator, acting unpaid, in addition,” he laughed, “to your regular duties as watch officer and general dogsbody. That should keep you busy and out of mischief,” he added, with a swift look at Katherine. Harris held up his hand as I started to protest, “What you don't know, you can learn by trial and error. I've also done a bit of sparks in my time.”

“This very good, very good,” Boris called as he hastened below to put together the rest of the radio. Now we could call whomever we liked! Use of the ham radio was forbidden during the War because of fears of spying and espionage, but its popularity now flourished.

Katherine had been taking all this in and looked doubtful. “All right, so he doesn't have his radio, but that tugboat captain is going to burst his boiler to get back and make his report. It was only a few hours to get out here, after all. It'll probably take them the same to get back to port and then perhaps there'll be something much faster trying to overtake us, or hadn't you considered that?”

“Katherine, you've a fine grasp of these things,” Harris said as if deep in thought, in actuality trying to hide his grin. “You see, they'll have to use their ship's compass to navigate, and I'm afraid that magnetic north is not where it once was. With a little diversion, we managed to sabotage the compass. I calculate that by the time they realise they're not seeing the correct lights, it'll be dark. They'll be forced to heave to until morning or head for one of the Southend lights. The only place at Southend that could dock a tug is the end of the pier. I'm sure that captain won't want any more publicity for this affair than he's already going to get. My bet is he'll put out a sea anchor off the shipping lanes, keep a lookout all night, and move in the morning when he can get line-of-sight bearings. Taking all this into account, I think we have a nine or ten hour head start before he's able to make his report. Surely someone will follow, but we've more surprises in store for them.” Harris was definitely looking smug.

Bowman was jumping about and clapping his hands in delight that the plan had succeeded so perfectly. At least for now, he'd forgot about the striped sails.

“They've enough fuel to make it back, I suppose,” Edward remarked to Harris. “If not, then we have even more time.”

Harris shrugged his shoulders. “Any captain making a trip like today ought to have left the dock with a full tank. If he didn't, it's not our worry.”

There was a momentary pause, and Katherine took advantage of it to ask if anyone wanted something hot to eat, as most had gone without since early morning.

Harris applauded. “Yes! I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm starved. Eating cold food at sea is something we should only be doing in storms. Come to think of it, that was most of the time, not so very long ago.” While Harris was awake, hungry was his usual state. Katherine disappeared below to see about a proper meal for the crew, and Harris detailed two boys to go and give her a hand.

I suggested to Harris that he get together with Boris and take stock of the various boys' abilities so watches could be set up and chores could be allocated to each watch. That would leave one or two jobs, such as the helm, as duties for the rest of us. Edward was manning the helm, so an impromptu meeting between Bowman, Harris, Edward, Boris, Robert, and myself was held near the wheel.

The boys were split into two watches, eight hours on and eight hours off duty. Off duty meant if you'd just sailed the ship through a storm, you were entitled to some sleep, but you'd have to help out if the weather got bad, or if chores needed tending. The list was endless!

We finished the meeting and were about to go below when Robert asked us to hold a moment. “Well now,” he said, “since we're all officially involved in this act of piracy, I felt it my obligation to contribute something as well. At first I didn't know what that might be, but then I thought of a little token that would remind us, and tell anyone looking at us, that we're not pirates. After all, at best we're merely thieves, taking property that doesn't belong to us.”

“What in God's name are you on about?” Harris demanded.

Robert reached under his coat and pulled out the folded-up red ensign of the British Merchant Navy, the famous Red Duster. “I'll run it up at the stern, that's the traditional place,” he said, but Bowman overruled him.

“No,” Bowman said, “not at the stern. There's nothing usual about this voyage, so run it up the mainmast instead, there for all to see and know who we consider we are. We'll fly the British ensign at our stern.”

We all stood by as Robert dogged the flag to its line and slowly ran it up the mast. Everyone saluted as it disappeared above into the varicoloured expanses of canvas, which were now pulling us along at a steady twelve knots. Then we went below for a well-earned meal, leaving Boris at the helm and the starboard watch on duty.

As we stepped into the galley, we all sniffed appreciatively. The smell of good food was overwhelming. The main dish appeared to be in a huge cauldron steaming at the middle of the stove. Harris said to Katherine, “I don't like to think of that great pot going over in a rough sea. I've put ties on both those handles so you can lift it quickly if the sea gets too rough.”

“Thank you very much,” she replied, “that sounds like a fine idea, but why don't we take it one step further? What if we turn the pot into a swing by putting the ropes over the beam, and I can suspend it over the stove. This pot is going to be in operation most of the time, since the best and most warming food at this time of year is a good stew.”

“Now, that's an even better idea,” Harris admitted. He turned to me. “Why don't you be about it, while—”

“Oh no, you don't,” I said, “you're always good at giving orders and then wandering off. This needs two to make it work.” We set to work straightaway. Once we'd installed ropes to both handles, we were able to get our meal. The others had quickly piled a tray high and vanished out the door to our wardroom. Harris followed them while I stayed behind to get in Katherine's way by using part of her work-table.

“How are you coming along with all this so far?” I asked.

She turned with a smile. “Splendidly,” she said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. “I've been working like a slave since I came on board and I've just made a meal for twenty-six starving men and boys. I'm enjoying every minute of it. Life seems to have taken on a bit of purpose, after a long time without it.”

She paused and became a little pensive. “I never really liked Mrs. Beasley, but I do feel a bit ashamed about leaving without warning. With you gone as well, she certainly must be feeling the strain. But,” and she brightened, “I'll bet she'll be so mad I pity all there. Still, Jean from the village should be there to keep up with the cleaning as I arranged with her yesterday.”

“Stop blaming yourself,” I said, and caught her by the waist, holding her comfortably to me. “You just said that you're enjoying yourself, so don't look for gloomy puritan reasons for not doing so.”

She grinned up at me, “This is unquestionably the greatest adventure of my life.”

I reminded her that although I'd seen active duty in the War, I'd never done anything quite like this myself. I gave her one final kiss and set off for the radio room.

The radio room was actually a corner of the chart room where the receiver and transmitter had been set up on a bench along the port bulkhead. Boris had already wired in the handset, using power from the same generator that worked the pumps. I then remembered Todd, Larry's friend who was good with a wireless, and thought I'd have a word with him later.

All that could be heard was a hum with occasional crackles. Since Harris had given me the job, I tracked him down and asked him to clarify my duties because I hadn't any real idea what was expected of me.

He pulled out his massive silver pocket watch and said, “There's time to tell you what I've arranged with friends of mine before they call. Let's get back to the radio and I can explain.”

Seated in front of the machine, Harris took down the clipboard I'd seen hanging up on the bulkhead and started to tell me what the numbers and names meant. “See here, the
Grouse
is a powered three-masted square-rigger out of Harwich. The captain, Bob Freeman, is also the owner. He owes me a wee favour or two and is part of this adventure as well. I've arranged an innocent little diversion with his help. These two numbers are the frequencies for his ship. The same applies for the other names.” He checked the time again using the ship's clock, whose brass glowed from the starboard bulkhead with its bell striking the hours.

Harris continued, “Bob should be calling in about five minutes, at 1100 as arranged. We've fixed our position by triangulation, using three radio beacons from old wartime aerodromes, which the RAF hasn't used since the War ended. Now, when we talk with Bob, we'll tell him our position and he'll head this way for about a half-hour. Then he'll change course due north. This will take him back into the normal shipping lanes while we change our present heading of east-sou'east to sou'sou'west.”

Just then, the radio broke into life, and Harris listened to the clock strike four bells before picking up the microphone to answer.

Bob's time was spot on. “
Calling
Harris,
calling
Harris
,” called the voice over the radio's speaker, “
can
you hear me
,
over
?”

Harris depressed the switch on the handset and answered, “You're loud and clear, Bob, you old bastard. How are you and the missus?”

“
Hey, a little less of the old, Harris. I'm all right and so is the old lady. Long time no see, but I'll have to make this short and sweet. The fish are running and every pair of hands is needed. Tell me what time you want me to change course. Sorry I can't stay and chat
.”

“Head due north at six bells and keep that course for about four hours. After that, just carry on about your business as usual. It should buy us a little more time when I report sighting a sailing ship heading due north, possibly a three-masted barque. I won't keep you, Bob, but we really owe you and thanks a million!”

“
Right
,
Harris
,” came Bob's voice. “
I'll look forward to a few jars with you next time, out
.”