A Ship's Tale (41 page)

I awoke when Katherine's soft lips met mine, bringing me back to the reality of the rocking ship. “It's time for you to go on watch. Harris is looking for you,” she whispered. I quickly dressed and made my way to the galley.

I found Harris and Ted drinking hot tea with hands that could scarcely hold the mugs.

“Right, Flynn,” Harris grunted as he saw me, “duty watches on the wheel are now down to two hours on and four off with two people on the wheel at all times. Your partner is Larry and he's up there just now, with Edward as an emergency stand-in, waiting for you because no one could find you. Everyone's already tired, and the storm isn't yet eight hours old. I have no idea where we'll be at the end of seventy-two hours if this really is a three-day blow. One thing cannot happen, and that's for the ship to broach to. We may have to leave the sails set as they are and sail according to the wind even if that means we move due east, but we must hold her head to the seas at all times.” Harris had become very animated while speaking, but I understood what he meant. This project had been built on the idea that we had a crew. Now the crewmen, all young boys, were betraying the neglect of their long years in the orphanage. They had the spirit and the will, but their bodies were simply not as fit as they should be.

I was about to go on duty, when Bowman's cabin door opened and he put his head out. If anything, he looked worse than before his sleep, and I exchanged a concerned glance with Harris. The old captain was clinging hard to the door's frame and blinking in a confused manner. Seeing us, he called, “Here, there was a boy in a white steward's jacket in here just now. He brought me some tea, but now I don't know where he put it. Could ye get me another?”

Harris's breath hissed between his teeth on hearing mention of the boy. He went to Bowman's side and gently pushed him back inside the cabin, talking softly to him. He put his head back round the door and beckoned me, “Get a mug of hot tea quickly and don't talk about what you just saw, all right?”

I got the tea, and then went to take my place at the helm with Larry. As I braced myself against the fury of the storm, I wondered how the builders of this ship, or any sailing ship, expected them to weather storms like this. They had done so many times in the past and would continue to do so, so long as there were any left to sail. As I stood facing forward, holding on to the lifeline with all my might, the scene made a terrifying spectacle. In what little the daylight offered, clouds covered the whole sky, and what could be seen was more in one's imagination rather than what the eyes could actually take in. The wind whipped the wave tops into a white spume of froth, which glowed all round us. One's first indication that a wave was rearing up was when the glow seemed to rise straight up in front of the bow, as the ship plunged down the back face of the wave. When the white would break and fall, it seemed certain that it would engulf the whole ship. But at the last second, the bowsprit would start to rise and most of the wave would crash under the bow, with only a small part actually pouring onto the ship. The waves were higher than the mainmast and as we sank into each trough, the noise of the rigging would change as the wind blew over the top of the masts, only to hit the sails again as the Bonnie mounted to the top of the wave. It was this rolling hit of the wind that gave the most life to the ship, shaking her from stem to stern.

As I took one side of the double wheel, with Larry on the other, we became part of this unending fight with the elements. The weather became a living thing, determined to take the wheel and make us founder, using every trick it could devise. It lulled us for a wave or two when the ship held true to course, then suddenly wrenched the head away with a cross wave so that we had to fight to bring it back again, and I wasn't convinced the foot break was doing much to slow the turning of the helm. It was no wonder that Harris now decreed only two hours of this. I didn't know if I could stand even one! But stand them both I did.

I was happy to hand over the helm to Robert and another apprentice. My whole body ached and my hands clenched like claws, cramped with cold and shooting pain as circulation and sensation began to come back.

The wind had settled west-sou'west. To meet our course, we would be using the wheel and not turning the yards to tack with the sails. This gave the two watches more time to recover. I found them in good spirits in the fo'c's'le; some sleeping, others playing cards.

“I just stopped by to see how you are,” I shouted, “and listen to any complaints, but not about the weather.” This brought a few grins to tired faces. “Does any one have a white jacket, such as stewards wear?”

They said that none of them had one, but one or two looked at one another questioningly. As I was about to leave I called them over and, as quietly as I could, asked again about the white jacket.

One said with embarrassment, “Captain keeps asking us the same question, Mr. Flynn. He says the boy has been in his cabin, bringing him tea then taking it away before he can drink it. But really, none of us would do such a thing to Captain Bowman.”

“Oh well,” I said, trying to make light of it. “Perhaps our captain has been taking a bit too much whisky that's stored in his cabin. I must get Mr. Harris to have a word with him.” The others lighted up at this explanation. They had obviously been talking among themselves and were worried.

There was one other visit I had to make and I went down the 'tween decks and the companion into the main hold. Boris had the same idea and was now looking at one very seasick bear. He unfolded a paper containing several fish, but Brown Bear was not interested in the slightest. We set to clean up the mess, which was mostly on bedding straw that we replaced with fresh bales. Boris tried to interest the bear in a bucket of fresh water, but this was also greeted with an unenthusiastic response.

Boris said, “He must drink, not drink long time, maybe he die.”

“Don't worry,” I comforted. “Even if he doesn't eat or drink for the whole seventy-two hours, he's not going to die. You watch, by tomorrow he'll have gotten used to all this shaking and rolling and be just as normal.”

Boris accepted this, but I could see he was still worried. As I left, he climbed into his hammock for some well-deserved sleep. When I got back to the passage leading to the galley, I saw Bowman's door open at the other end and went to investigate. Harris and Bowman were in one of their family-like tussles, with Harris calling Bowman Uncle Billy. Although this irritated Bowman, it gave Harris leeway to treat the old man not as a captain but as an irascible but harmless granddad.

Bowman was clearly annoyed. “I'm all right, damn it. My ticker is off, it happens now and then—ye know that!”

“The thing I don't like is when you try to conceal it from people who care about you. You may be the captain of the ship, but you've been my friend the last thirty-some years. I don't have any family left, and you're all that comes close. I resent you shutting me out, so let's not have any more of it!”

Bowman glared up at Harris, then gave a grudging chuckle. “Well then, thank ye, ye great nursemaid.”

“Don't mention it, Uncle Billy. I'm here to give you hell whenever necessary,” Harris smiled.

“Always a comfort,” Bowman said wryly.

As much as they disagreed and had words, these two would walk across hot coals for each other. This side was seldom shown to other people from the outside. Harris finally walked out, where he found me waiting.

“Harris, have you heard the stories about the white jacketed steward?” I asked.

He looked at me grimly and nodded, “I've heard, but I don't know what it means. Maybe he's getting a bit mental in his old age. He's only seventy and as fit as can be, apart from this heart murmur, as they call it. All we can do is make sure he doesn't do anything like trying to take a turn at the wheel or get into the lower shrouds for a better view. I'll have a word with Edward as well so that they don't have quite such long arguments. I think if they hold them to about ten minutes that should be quite enough!” He smiled wanly and moved off into the chart room to find Edward.

I went to stand next to the helm, where the first light of the approaching dawn revealed what we'd only imagined during the night.

Chapter 25

THE STORM ENDURES

It may have been my fancy, but I felt as though the wind had eased a trifle. Still the prospect was bleak, with great grey walls of water continually in front and behind, as we slid down one side and climbed the other. At the peaks we could see nothing but a whole series of waves, white spume and spray flying in the wind, before diving once more into the next trough. The wind was still in the same quarter, piling the waves across our port beam as we fought our way close-hauled along whatever degrees west of north we could manage. It was just possible that we could break out more sail. That thought was scarcely new before the pipe sounded, bringing the boys pounding onto the deck; some to go aloft and release the gaskets, the rest to downhaul the buntlines as we set more sail. Once again Boris was ahead of me.

The
Bonnie
Clyde
took the challenge, and we ploughed more heavily through the peaks as she picked up speed. Driving at fifteen knots in this kind of weather must be one of the greatest sensations there is. I stood and savoured it to the fullest, but not for long. An all-too-well-known voice thundered in my ear, asking whether I was going to stand there all day. Harris pointed out that there were several injuries in need of attention. Indeed, there were the usual casualties of such a night: bruises, scrapes, blisters, one twisted ankle, and a number of seasick cases. This much was to be expected. We could count ourselves fortunate that we'd got off so lightly, as I applied mercurochrome and bandages and plasters, and crepe bandages for the sprains and the twisted ankle. I didn't ask Harris why I was chosen to tend to this, but I'd a basic knowledge of first aid and set up my surgery by the aft hatchway.

Just as I finished my doctoring, I saw Bowman come up on deck to have a look around. He looked frail, but I guessed he was determined to show us that he was still in charge.

“How are you this morning, Captain?” I enquired.

Without answering my question he asked, “Has Edward calculated our course and position?”

“I've been looking at our injured crew, so I'm not certain. I expect he's in the chart room,” I responded.

Bowman held onto one of the ropes of the standing rigging with his right hand and carefully looked over each of the sails above us. “Seems they're holding good and true,” he observed. “How are the pumps running?” He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead. His whole face was shining with sweat even though the air was cold, and his hand had a slight tremble.

Turning him round, I made sure his harness was attached to the lifeline and walked him across the bucking deck and through the occasional seas coming over the sides to the hatch so that he could go below to the chart room. Edward was there and I left them together, saying I'd report back once I'd seen the pump situation. I could hear the tell-tale roar of the generator and looked out to see a steady flow of water being pumped out from below. As I descended, the noise got louder and I found two lads servicing the pumps. They told me the ship hadn't taken on much water from above, but that the pumps had been on since the storm began. This wasn't good news; we preferred to operate the pumps intermittently, in order to save on precious fuel. Given the age of the ship, and her long neglect, we must be taking water into the bilge steadily from loose caulking or old welds.

Before going back up, I had a quick look down into the main hold. I couldn't decide which figure was snoring the loudest, Boris or the bear. Chuckling, I returned to the chart room. Bowman, Harris, and Edward were busy going over a chart as I made my report, including what I thought about the state of our fuel supplies. Harris just smiled in that sweetly ferocious way he had at times and remarked that the hand pump could always be manned by those not occupied with something important! This suggestion gave me pause. I told him that I hoped it wouldn't come to that because that sort of work was unreasonably laborious.

They went back to their discussion, but I pulled Harris back and whispered, “Look at Bowman. Remember what we agreed last night? Let's get these two onto other things before they start their usual disagreements.”

“You're right. I didn't think, this damned navigating…” Harris replied. Turning back to the table, he called out, “Right, that's enough discussion. Boris and I will look at our choices. We're heading for Land's End, and we know the course to get there. Now you two gents are off watch, I believe, so get off and have a bit of sleep. You can get some hot tea as you pass the galley, but that's all, and
no arguing
, Edward,” Harris caught his eye with a meaningful glance. Talking and chaffing, he got them out of the chart room and headed to the galley.

“Thanks, Flynn,” Harris said. “I think I must also be getting old when I can't see that Uncle Billy is overdoing it. I had a word with Edward, but he must keep reminding himself. No small task, that. I also told Katherine to keep the galley fire going and that each lookout boy is to report to her after his turn at the bow. That way, there's always someone on duty ready to dowse any fire that might be thrown out of the stove. All that comes out of suggestions by you,” he said musingly. “Are you trying to get my job?” he grinned.

“Not unless it involves a serious pay increase,” I sniffed.

Harris said he'd stay in case the radio started up during the next hour or so. I went down to my cabin to try and sort out the mess made by the leaking deck, only to find that my guardian angel was there before me. She'd put up lines across the cabin and hung out my wet clothes. The mattress and bedding had disappeared, and next to the bulkhead there was now a fresh hammock. What a girl, practical
and
beautiful!

A pair of soft hands came over my eyes, and a voice said, “Ugh—you're wet again!” I turned to find her standing off with eyes shining, trying to dab off the damp from her jumper and slacks with the towel she was carrying. Her cheeks were red and her hair was tousled.

“I've just had a wash, and I don't need another,” she sniffed. “You just have that jacket off this minute so I can get the thanks I deserve for all the work I've done in here.”

I was only too happy to oblige and was rewarded with the pleasure of holding her, if only for a few moments. Of course one of us had to have a hand hanging onto a support at all times. Anyone who has knocked teeth while kissing can testify that it tends to be a passion killer. Finally, we settled for my arms round her and the bunk support, with her half-lying on me.

“I came down to do what you've already done,” I said. “I was going to the galley to get a mug of coffee, if you have it.”

“Only Nescafe,” she said with a grimace.

“That will have to do,” I told her.

Nonetheless, I had to get back to the chart room so Harris could get on with the ceaseless inspection of the ship. I knew she understood Harris's anxiety at being responsible for so many crew members in a storm like this. They'd all driven themselves hard for weeks before Robert and I had shown up, making sure the ship was seaworthy, but four men can take care of only so much. According to an earlier conversation in the chart room, everything wasn't as watertight as it should be. Harris's perpetual patrolling was intended to catch trouble before it happened, or failing that, to provide sufficient warning for us all to be rescued or to escape on the life rafts. This was unthinkable, although we had to be prepared in any event. I arrived in the chart room with my mug of coffee in hand.

“Thank you, Flynn, most thoughtful of you,” Harris said.

“Oh no, you go get your own,” I shot back.

“Okay,” he said, “but I was going to embellish that one a bit.” He reached into his coat pocket and produced a small flask.

“Well, that would be very nice,” I said, setting the mug on the table, at which he obligingly poured a generous amount into it.

Suddenly the radio began its usual rude reception noises, but then stopped. I turned back to find that Harris and my mug had disappeared, except for the sound of laughter floating up through the companion. It had been difficult getting my mug to the chart room without spilling it all. I was contemplating ways of getting even, when Boris came in to ask me for help in moving crates from the hold, but my mood had turned sour. I looked at him and sighed bitterly.

“That damned Harris is always one step ahead of me,” I lamented.

Boris scratched his ear and replied, “Then you must walk faster.”

Boris was one of the most unflappable people I'd ever met. Maybe it was his being Russian, but he never seemed to be upset by anything. Back at the Inn he'd walked through the bar-room brawl without touching anyone, and by the same token no one touched him. If there was an emergency, he would take care of the problem and go on with his business as though nothing had taken place. He was as agile as a cat and strong as a bull, with no discernible temper whatsoever. However, there were accounts from Harris about occasions to the contrary when Boris had been provoked beyond reason.

I rose, stretching my stiff muscles, and prepared to assist with Boris's task. We went to the number one hatch and made two trips carrying the crates, heavy ones filled with tinned food, back to the wardroom. As we brought the second load to the open hatch, I refused Boris's offer to help me down the ladder, but did let him carry the crate. There sat Harris with his feet propped up near the coal heater, sound asleep with his index finger affixed to my mug. I walked over and got another mug. As I filled it with coffee, I realized there was one thing yet missing. I glanced over at Harris. His right hand was propped on the table with the mug. The other hung limp at his side, revealing a flask that was clearly visible in the pocket of his slightly open watch coat.

Very carefully I crept up behind him, with full knowledge that discovery might do me serious harm. Using great care with my thumb and two fingers, I slid the flask slowly out of his pocket. Giving it a shake, I was happy to find it half full. I added a liberal dose to my coffee, but thought it best not to try and replace it. I started to put it in my pocket, then realised I still had Bowman's in my possession. Now I had one for each pocket, a comforting thought. I sat for a few moments enjoying long sips of the warm fluid, when I was startled by Boris's sudden reappearance. Most of his arrivals were sudden and unexpected. Well, he'd come too late to see the crime in commission. I silently congratulated myself on having pulled a fast one without witness and thus far without discovery or repercussions.

Edward descended the ladder, seemingly deep in thought. He looked over and demanded, “What are you doing hanging about down here?”

“I'm enjoying a warm beverage and waiting for our radio contact,” I returned coolly. “Besides, I live here, so you needn't get cross with me.”

Edward relaxed and coughed his gruff laugh by way of agreement. I pointed over to Harris, his feet up, and sound asleep.

“Now that's a damned strange place to be taking a nap!” Edward burst out at Harris, who stirred and sat upright in his chair.

“Excuse me?” Harris said, snapping awake. “What's that? What do you mean, a strange place? At sea, rest is where you find it. Besides, who appointed you time keeper?” It was clear he wasn't pleased at being awakened, and he might have elaborated on the theme had he not been interrupted by another awakening.

Now it was the radio that awoke, and I could hear a familiar voice. “
Calling Harris, calling Harris
.”

I recognised Martin's voice and quickly keyed the handset. “Hi there, Martin,” I called. “Good to hear your voice. How are things with you?”

“
I want to ask you that. Here it's been one hell of a day and night, and today has started the same. The wind is so strong that you can only move outside by holding onto trees, gateposts, and such…and the rain is forever. Despite all this, though, we presently have at the Inn a variety of shady Fleet Street characters, and every paper I see has your ship and pictures of whoever was on the tug on the front page. With the exception of
The Times
, of course
,” he added in an upper-class voice.

“You watch out,” I said, “one day they will, just you wait and see!”

“
Who will what
?” Martin sounded a bit exasperated.

“
The Times
will, they'll have pictures on the front page, even of ladies,” I taunted.

“
Do you want to hear my story, or don't you
?” he asked impatiently.

“Yes sir. Please go on sir. I'm all—”

“
You'll be all dead if you don't shut up
,” we both laughed. “
Still, it was very difficult to get away this morning without one of the reporters spotting me, but I did eventually shake him off. Now where to begin? Oh yes, the favourite photo seems to be the one of Harris laughing, and holding the radio handset in the air. This seems to have caught everyone's attention. The reporters keep on offering me hefty sums of money for the story of the escaping lovebirds or some such, but we never discussed what I should say if asked
.”

“Well, we have promised Richard exclusive rights, but not for money,” I admitted. “Why don't you ring up and ask him? We've given Richard all our details now. I should think he used some of it for today's AP news service piece. If it's money that's involved, I don't see why you shouldn't say your piece. Of course you might have to answer to Mrs. Beasley, should she find you've been withholding information from her. Do what you think is best.”

“
All right then, I will. All the papers have printed something about you. Local news is also interesting. O'Connell has been booted out of his job and residence by the trustees, who decided that they'd better show they won't tolerate this sort of rubbish. But they've not explained how he was able to carry on like this all these years without detection. I'm told that the tax man is already in there looking at the figures, and I'm sure someone has told him about the Bentley. I think a prosecution might be brought soon. Meanwhile, would you believe it? I have to put up with O'Connell here! Mrs. B. has taken him in, at Katherine's old cottage. He's with her most of the time and doing odd jobs for his keep. He really is a nasty piece of work. However, the most worrying thing I have to report
,” he said gravely, “
is the activity of Scotland Yard. There's a team of three coming in from Gravesend each day, and they're asking everyone they can about the crew and the boys
.