A Ship's Tale (42 page)

“
According to the local policeman, they seem to be trying to work up a case of kidnapping or child abduction. The trouble is, English law can clobber you as well as protect you. If the police wanted to, they could probably make a case for the public prosecutor to issue a summons for kidnap because every one of the boys is under twenty-one and cannot be taken away from their legal guardian. However, my friend assures me that the publicity from this whole incident will give the authorities cause for deliberation before taking any action. By the way, you're going to have to make an honest woman of Katherine as soon as you can.
The Daily Mirror
is insinuating sinful things and I don't know what the Sunday papers will do with that part of the story. Juicy stuff, you know
.”

“Bugger all to them!” I exploded. “Just because Katherine and I are on the same ship—” I paused for a few seconds. I was outraged at the thought of them writing anything to harm Katherine. In the end, I asked him, “Please collect a selection of papers for us, Martin, so we can see how the story was presented when we get to port. There are some things that are going to need explaining, as with the boys, but we're hoping that public opinion will see all charges punished by slaps on the wrist rather than time in prison.”

While I'd been talking, the sounds of the ship had been gradually getting noisier. We could hear that the solid thump and swish of water dumping on the fo'c's'le head and well deck were becoming more frequent.

“I don't know if you can hear,” I went on, “but the storm is closing down on us again and after a slight lull, is back with a vengeance. The ship is a real marvel and the builder deserves more than praise. Despite all the neglect, the masts and the yards are taking the strain, and the pumps are working to rid us of whatever water that's getting through the hull. The boys have proved themselves men many times over. Apart from a few scrapes and sprains, are all fit, considering the fact that they've been on the edge of malnutrition for so long. That bloody reptile O'Connell really must be made to pay for his neglect.”

“
Really
?” Martin was interested
.
“
Then I'd better say a few words to certain parties to have a good look at the food bills. Even though we all think she's a nag, Mrs. Beasley should also learn about the
other
O'Connell. Oh yes, one more thing. I had a call from a man named Brian yesterday. He says he's a friend of Harris. He'd seen the papers and wanted to send you his best wishes for a successful voyage. He asked if he can help in any way. He says he has a lot of friends in London. That's about all from my end
.”

“And it'll have to be all from my end,” I shouted over the wind and crashing seas. “Things are picking up here and I'll be needed to work on deck. Thanks for all your help, Martin. We look forward to your next bulletin.” We said goodbye and closed the connection.

Outside, the clouds, which had lightened slightly, were now darker and thicker than ever and seemed to scud over the horizon to envelop us. As they rolled overhead, they brought a squall of hard, driving rain and hail, cloaking the deck with glittering ice that was swept away by the next wave. The watch aloft was battling with flying canvas, with boys getting their feet knocked out from under them. Hanging from the stays, their legs kicked wildly to find the support from the footrope. Harris and Robert were at the wheel, with Larry to help with the brake as the ship slid and fought the waves.

The boys now came stumbling down the ladder, exhausted after having reefed in everything except the mainsail, jibs, foresail, and forestaysail. Still the ship bounced forward at the peak of each wave.

As the boys crowded down to the galley to get something hot to eat and drink, Boris came hurtling out of number three hatchway and headed for Harris at the wheel. After shouting something, Boris quickly returned. Harris handed over the helm to Larry and went after Boris. I sensed an emergency and ran down through the nearest hatch. The 'tween decks should have been in near darkness, but instead flames lit up the area and smoke was beginning to fill the space. Running forward, I found Boris and Harris attempting to smother the fire, which was burning over and around the generator. It had managed to tear loose from its retaining bolts and was now lying on its side. The petrol from the tank spilt and caught fire from the hot cylinder block, and was now spreading onto the deck.

I ran forward to the number two hatch closest to the galley, which was the nearest place I could think of for buckets. I yelled to Katherine, “Fire! No time to explain.” I picked up two buckets, grabbed her helper, and shot back to the number two hatchway. The fire had caught a little on the wood of the bulkhead as well as on the deck. Before I could stop the boy, he had thrown the contents of his bucket on the deck and spread the flames, threatening some of the goods we'd stacked a few days ago. Using buckets of water must be done with care as to not spread the flames by pushing them farther down the deck. Harris and Boris were still wrestling a large tarpaulin to smother the fire. I told the boy to get the watch off duty and form a line from the nearest gunnel, filling the buckets over the side with a rope tied to their handles. The boys proved their mettle again by seeing the problem and reacting without question. Soon the fire was doused with no casualties apart from Harris getting a bucketful over him when he stepped the wrong way after a warning shout.

Once the emergency passed, we all stood and caught our breath. Before the boys disappeared, Boris got them round the generator. With a bit of work, they soon had it standing upright again against the bulkhead in its original position. Harris said a few words of praise for their speed in coming to fight the fire and sent them back to the fo'c's'le to continue their interrupted rest. Boris poured more water over the affected parts to cool them down, especially in the area of the tank. He poured in petrol, pressed the starter, and it caught the first time, running smoothly, so thankfully there was no damage there.

Boris was annoyed. This was the first time I'd ever seen him so, and he surely had ample cause. “I find this cap over there. Means boys not close tank!”

Harris wasn't so sparing of words, “So some lazy good-for-nothing didn't close the tank properly?” He glared at the departing boys. “I'm going to tan the little sod's arse so roundly when I catch him, he won't be able to sit down for a week!” he roared as the boys left by number one hatch. Winking at me he said, “I hope that's enough of a threat not to skimp on their work.”

Leaving Boris to affix the generator to the bulkhead, this time using a chain instead of rope that could get hot enough to break again, we made our way back to the wheel, where Robert and Larry appeared to be holding their own.

“Hey, Flynn, it's nearly your watch on the wheel,” Robert called out. “She's handling beautifully, but you'd better not relax an inch, for she'll take a mile and it's forever to get the binnacle centred again.” Just to emphasise this point, we were staggered by a seventh wave as it flung water down the well deck in a flooding torrent. It beat against the bulkhead below the wheel and threw a sheet of water over us all. Robert forgot to duck his head and had to take a hand from the wheel to wipe his eyes. That was enough. The pressure of his hand had been maintaining the rudder in a certain equilibrium. Taking the pressure away shifted the wheel an inch, just as he'd said, and then suddenly the sea snatched a mile, slewing the head round. If it wasn't for Larry holding on, we would have continued that fatal turn and broached to in the waves.

All helmsmen learn this trick of the sea. When they relax their guard, they're always ready for the counter of full rudder in the opposite direction until the bow picks up, followed by the slow centring. Then they watch the bow and binnacle at the same time until equilibrium is regained. All this takes place in seconds but it's the essence of the helmsman's job, to feel the ship and the sea through the wheel, like a live thing straining at the end of a leash, and to know when to ease off here and when to pull in there. I've usually enjoyed my spells at the wheel of whatever boat, but the sailing ship is the only really live one.

“Give me five minutes,” I called back to Robert.

I shouted to Harris, “Come on, I'll buy you a cup of coffee so you don't keep stealing mine.”

Leading the way into the chart room, I told him to wait because I wanted to tell him about Martin's call. Katherine was in her element again with the stove burning and making good hot food. I told her quickly what had happened, and then took two mugs of coffee back to Harris.

Having told him what Martin said, I added, “When you think about all we did to make this voyage possible, without people knowing our motives, we must sound like a gang of crooks. Maybe you and Bowman can have a talk before we get Richard's next call, so he can get us the best publicity. We've publicly embarrassed several Whitehall people, and in their rat-pack that means shunting sideways until they retire or resign, so they'll be desperate to get back into their bosses' good graces.” I went through the list of our misdeeds, all of which would need to be put in their best light so that public opinion could tread lightly over the obvious criminal acts. “These can easily be considered justified,” I concluded.

Harris had been listening in silence, and once I'd finished he took a long swallow of his coffee and said, “Just remind me not to praise you at all in the future. You do rattle on, don't you?” and he grinned briefly before becoming serious.

“Let's not forget that this has been Uncle Billy's outing right from the start. Even though he's tough and cantankerous, when I think how bad public criticism could be—” his face broke a bit, “I'm not going to see him suffer disgrace or obscurity after all he's been through! I want him to have the glory he never got in his working life. Just working one of these ships for thirty years or more should bring a shower of medals.”

Harris thought for a moment. “I think you're right about Richard. I'll sit down with Uncle Billy and Edward and get them to agree what to ask of him. Already I can think of using Martin's ex-
Times
man to see about making a connection with one of their leaders. Those articles are usually pretty influential, even getting into
Hansard
when mentioned in MPs' speeches. Then there's Brian. I know he hasn't been in the country long, but he has many friends and family members who got out of Europe in the early thirties. Who knows, he may have a Rothschild or two he can get in to see! Meanwhile, Flynn, get your arse into gear and relieve Robert while I find Boris to come and help you.”

I downed the rest of my coffee, adjusted my oilskin, made doubly sure my sou'wester was firmly fixed to my head, and went outside to the helm, where Robert was so glad to see me he disappeared without a word of thanks. Larry was silent and I saw that he was just holding on. He gave a grateful smile when I told him that Boris was on his way.

Suddenly, there was a sound that I hadn't heard before on this ship. It was the clang of a bell, coming from the lookout on the fo'c's'le head. It struck twice, and I remembered my training days, reciting with the mate, almost as huge as Harris but only half as human, standing by me also reciting, “Two bells vessel to port, three bells vessel ahead, one bell vessel to starboard.” I was stuck at the wheel, but from my post I watched Harris darting up to the lookout's position, where he pointed off the port bow. I thought I could see the smallest of lights winking just on the horizon. The next instant, Harris was in the shrouds and climbing the ratlines up to the top, trying to get above the continuous spray and loss of visibility as the ship slid into each trough. After some time there, he came back down and checked the binnacle for the light's bearing off our course. Then he went into the chart room, shouting for Edward. I had to hold my curiosity, but I could more or less remember what lay ahead from having studied the charts.

Manning the helm wasn't something I could do when I was an apprentice, but I think it's an exercise that should be allowed all personnel on a ship, providing circumstances allow it. Not only is it good practise for navigation, but especially close to land or heading for a landfall, a good sailor will learn to know what to look for and not be completely surprised when he sees it.

I knew the boys on lookout had been instructed to use the bell for any sightings, including land. I doubted that any ship had been sighted, but instead it could be a fixed light warning of rocks or a shoal. I could see that our course was taking us out of the long indent on the coast of France between Le Havre and Cherbourg Peninsula, to a heading that would bring us near Weymouth. The light we saw must have been at Pointe de Barfleur on the extreme north-east tip of the Peninsula.

After some time, and some argument, which I could overhear through the chart room bulkhead, Harris came storming out with a new course.

“One day—” he shouted, “one day I'm going to roll up all of Edward's charts and bludgeon him to death with them. So bloody much argument about a simple choice! It seems the BBC and all reporting ships agree that this storm is going to carry on at least another twenty-four hours. Before the storm we'd more or less agreed that we should get behind the Peninsula, away from the possible search pattern of the MTB, then swing around Alderney and then head due west, ending up well to the south of the Scilly Isles. I've just been arguing with that stubborn old idiot, Edward, that the storm changed everything and now we should be clawing our way as much due north-west as we can manage, and then come about on the other tack, heading south-west. Once the storm dies we should be in the Channel well to the south of Plymouth, well placed to take advantage when the wind veers round to the east.”

“Harris versus Edward.” Quite a picture.