A Ship's Tale (44 page)

I was getting ready to go on deck when Katherine beckoned me over. “I forgot to tell you, I had one of the crew hang out your mattress for drying, but don't expect to be using it soon. I also took the liberty of hanging up your wet clothing, so I'm afraid you'll find your cabin looking a bit like a tailor's shop.”

“That was very thoughtful,” I said. “In fact I saw it when I passed earlier, but didn't have time to thank you.”

“Just one more thing, I let you have the second part of the afternoon in my room, remember?” she whispered.

“Of course I remember, how could I forget?” I answered.

“Well then, where do you propose to sleep tonight?” she asked. With all of these things going on around me, I forgot about an alternative accommodation completely.

“I couldn't help noticing that hammock, so I can stay out of your way for now,” I told her.

“Now you listen here, stop trying to be the chivalrous protector,” she scolded. “After all that you and I have been through. Oh, you do sometimes become infuriating!”

“Listen Katherine, I—”

“Enough!” she interrupted. “Quietly, we'll do as we did at the Inn. Your trunk and dry clothing were taken into what is now
our
cabin,” she smiled.

I reached out and softly embraced her. We'd already made a commitment before leaving the Inn together. She didn't force me, but sometimes unless someone shows me the bridge is strong enough, I tend to be reluctant to go across.

Inappropriate modesty perhaps, but I was somewhat shy by nature and certainly was trying my best not to take a good thing for granted. We were now closer than ever before and I didn't want this to change. Again and again, I pondered what we'd do and where we'd go when we reached our destination. All these things Katherine and I would speak of in the next few days. Everything else seemed insignificant by comparison.

Chapter 26

THE WEATHER ABATES

On deck, the constant pounding of the sea and the wind moaning and howling through the rigging made the ship seem like an immense living thing. The bow and bowsprit disappeared every now and again, then came out of the sea with white water cascading over the fo'c's'le head. The triangle of the foremast staysail was taut and sang in a higher pitch as it curved up in front of the foresail. Holding the buntline, one could feel the wind pulling and trembling. With most of the sails filled, the masts creaked and groaned down to their solid footing on the keel as we rode over the top of each wave. Each of us had complete confidence in the
Bonnie
. She could weather anything so long as we did our jobs properly, but the sea was relentless and we couldn't afford to relax our guard even for a second. Tiredness showed in the faces of everyone, as off watch had become just as much a test of endurance as on watch. Sleep was almost impossible, for relaxing meant being flung about in the bunk and even onto the deck.

Bowman had made it his job to get amongst the crew off watch, to encourage the boys and listen to their stories of all that had happened to them on watch. Their spirits rebounded quickly, but their bodies could not, and we were concerned for their general staying power. The earliest estimate for the storm to die down was twenty hours. We were hoping for only one major change of course during that time, depending on the wind bearing.

I was sitting in the chart room after the evening meal, nursing a mug of coffee, idly wondering what the outcome of my pro-drinking cry was going to be, when Bowman and Harris came in.

“Good,” Harris said, “just the man we wanted to see.” Bowman sat down in the only other chair while Harris used the corner of the chart table.

Bowman cleared his throat and spoke, “I will say that I regret that business about the drinks. Perhaps we did get a wee bit carried away. I suppose it's because we're worried at what's going to happen when we get off the ship, people saying we led those innocent boys into piracy and let them drink as well! Ye were quite right to get it settled quickly. The poor lads needed their dinner. Anyway, let's have nae more about it.”

“The next thing on my list is the canvas,” said Harris. Here, if the circus owners want to be nasty, we haven't a leg to stand on. We took it without permission, knowing full well that if we'd asked, the answer would have been no. It's called stealing.”

“Ah yes,” I put in, “but we did have the money to pay for replacement tents, we just couldn't locate a source. Perhaps with the publicity, it's very likely we can, now that factories are changing over to peacetime production again. If we ask Richard to write up how sorry we are for taking the tents, but that after all the circus was closing for the season, that we have the money, and we're now looking for a supplier who can deliver before the season starts again, maybe the owners won't press charges. Also the circus will get quite a lot of free publicity with the papers that use Richard's story.”

“It all sounds very reasonable when we sit here analysing it,” Bowman mused, “but there are many people involved I canna abide, and the worst are Whitehall twits and lawyers. They'll weasel ye out of yer eye-teeth if they aren't screwed in.”

“Well, we can only wait and see,” Harris said, “but I'm counting on the publicity, no matter what the lawyers say.”

“Next,” I pointed out, “is the question of ex-Navy, still-Navy, scrap-Navy stores and…”

Harris waved his hand. “All right, Flynn, less of the funny stuff. What you don't know is that some, but not all, of the new stuff you see stored below is bought and paid for, and I've got the receipts. The only problem is that the receipts are in the name of a non-existent contractor, who was buying stuff for re-fitting an existing ship, which is not, in fact, being refurbished. I thought if I put the
Bonnie
Clyde
's name on paper, some clever little irk up the line would be asking questions.”

“So that's the truth of it, is it?” I exclaimed. “That's somewhat of a relief. I'm sorry, but all this time I thought you'd just made everything
walk
out of the yard. My apologies.”

Harris gave me a hard look and grinned, “The scrap did walk. All the old items you see, including bits of machinery, most of the ropes, block and tackles, life rafts, pumps, quite a bit of the rigging parts, paint and more that were in the yard, but had been written down to nil long ago and was to be officially disposed of. Scrap merchants refused it because it would cost more to collect it than they would get for selling it, so it just sat there mouldering. I think the worst they can get me for is falsification of documentation, if there is such a crime, but you remember that commander coming around? Some of this is worth quite a bit, but not for the scrap merchants.”

At this juncture I added another thought. “What about the bear?”

This did give him pause, and he thought for a moment, then brightened. “Aren't we taking it to its new owner or something?”

“I suppose I'll have to get the real story from Robert,” I said. “Richard seems to think the bear story is going to make us out the kindest people since Father Christmas. He's just dying to get some photos. The worry with the bear is telling what we're going to do with it, since we never had any real plan, after all. It's old now and will need special care.”

Bowman scratched his beard, remarking, “With all the attention the creature will attract, something should come up. There may be a Scottish Bears Benevolent Society, for aught I know.” He rubbed his hands together. “Aye, that seems to take care of everything.”

Harris had been pondering over his list for some time, and he now suddenly burst out, “Here you two—wake up! How can you say that takes care of everything when there's a little question of theft still outstanding?” He glared at us but I hadn't much of an idea in my head at this point just which theft he meant. It was late and I was tired and at this point just hoped I could remember how to use a hammock. After giving us a few seconds, he exploded, “What about the bloody ship?”

He did have a point there, but it was one far beyond our legal knowledge to fathom. AP's legal department would probably welcome the problem. There seemed to be two ways we could be attacked, one being that we'd committed an act of piracy. As we hadn't threatened anyone nor used force, I thought piracy was a bit stiff. But it made me think of the tug and I said, “There's another theft we forgot, the handset from the tug's radio. And the fact that by tampering with the compass we led to the tug's having to heave to through a night when it could have well been run down.

“What would be the legal view of stealing something that the owner wanted thrown away?” I told the others what I thought, and we agreed to ask Richard if his legal department would like to have a go at it.

“You know,” I added, thinking aloud, “it seems to me that there may be some reluctance to actually bring this pursuit to a conclusion.”

“And why do you think that would be?” Bowman asked. I moved a bit closer to them so that no one would overhear our conversation.

“What would you do in their position? No, seriously. If you overtook this vessel and boarded it, what would you possibly accomplish? Let's see, you could arrest everyone. Of course that would be counterproductive because there would be no one to sail or steer the vessel. Also, it would be foolish to try to take this ship under tow because there would be insufficient control without someone at the helm. And one more thing,” I said, holding up my index finger, “just where could they possibly tow this vessel when they themselves have absolutely no idea where we're going? Given all that, they'd be forced to tow us back to England, which would be impossible.”

“Good points,” Bowman agreed, “but those decisions are based largely on logic and I haven't noticed, over many years, their decisions ever have involved much of what's logical!” And he rose, yawning. “That's enough of this business for now, lads.”

Bowman was quickly away to his cabin, but Harris and I had a watch together at the wheel before we could think of resting. It seemed as though Richard wasn't likely to be calling this late.

We went outside onto the bridge deck. The sky was so black that the only light came from the binnacle, shining up under the chins of the helmsmen and casting strange shadows across their faces. There was also a small glow on the forepeak that came from the riding lights, but aside from these, we were just another bobbing piece of flotsam in the darkness. Robert and Boris reported for their watch at the wheel and I told them of the conference, but I could see that they both, even the tireless Boris, were feeling the effects of continuously fighting the storm and couldn't muster much interest.

Perhaps I was imagining it, but I thought I could feel a slight lessening in the perpetual violence of the sea, the wind seemed not quite so forceful. If so, it was by only the smallest degree. The ship's bell struck eight, always a welcome sound, as it meant the end of a watch. The old watch crowded down to the galley for a hot drink and the hope of sleep. The new watch groaned at the prospect of four hours of work, all hoping that there'd be no need to set or reef sails, nor to brace the yards. The lookout reported back to the wheel that the navigation lights were burning properly. Harris and I took over for our watch, once again without sleep.

Immediately I got that familiar sensation that I was a part of the ship. Carved in with the wood of the deck, rising and falling with it, the only movable parts were my arms, head, and shoulders. I could feel the sea streaming past the rudder, trying to push it off line. The gusts of wind hitting the topsails tried to make the head fall off ever so slightly, and my automatic turn of the wheel in the opposite direction was intended to counter this.

The night wore on with little or no words spoken between me and Harris, only the occasional debate whether to set more sail or attend to other measures that would let the watches rest as much as possible. Whatever the state of the storm, we'd have to come about on a new tack soon after first light and we'd need all hands on deck. At last four bells sounded, and we were relieved at the wheel by Edward and Larry.

I quite literally staggered down to the galley for hot tea and was surprised to find Katherine there. She looked tired and sleepy. As we sat leaning on one another she said drowsily, “If only the ship's motion was a regular corkscrew, a person could get used to it and fit one's body to it and get lulled to sleep. But these everlasting odd kicks and sidelong slides, with no rhyme or reason, I really don't…” and her voice trailed off as the effort of thinking was just too much.

After a little longer I carefully disengaged myself. “I'm going to try sleeping in the hammock, Katherine. Tomorrow we'll have to make a big course change, coming on the other tack, so make sure your boy warns you in good time. We're going to need all hands on deck.” I kissed her good night, went to my cabin, swung into the hammock, and fell asleep.

What seemed only five minutes was in reality four hours later. I was on my feet at the wash-basin in the corner of the cabin, wondering what to do with the toothbrush I was holding in my hand. What can this unfamiliar object be, I remember thinking. The cobwebs gradually cleared from my head, and I went across to the galley.

The
Bonnie
was still rearing and pushing as we set more sail, but the vicious side twists and the sudden slides were absent. Thank goodness the storm was finally easing. Katherine had managed some sleep as well and looked much fresher than the night before.

In answer to my query, she said that Harris hadn't yet been down, so I took two mugs of coffee and made for the bridge deck. He was already there and even thanked me for the coffee. The clouds were breaking now, streaking along as they changed shapes in the early light. To port, the horizon was lined with light as the clouds lifted out of the sea. The wind roared in the rigging but with a lower note, as the sea rose and fell in glistening mountains as far as the eye could see. Boris had been busy during the night, setting more sail so that we continued our north-westerly course at about twelve knots. Taking the helm by myself, I could feel the difference in the ship. It was taking the sea smoothly without all the savage pounding of the past two days. It was still stormy, but the fight had gone out of the weather, and it was now a minor hindrance rather than a hostile force. We were making good time and were steady on course.

“With the storm blowing over like this, it'll take time to die down in the east.” I said to Harris. “The MTB might try to get out from Dover this afternoon, and I think he'll travel due west for a while before carrying on the search pattern. He must be a very confused captain, with an unexplained radio message, no sightings reported, and the whole of the Channel to search.”

Meanwhile, we were nearly in position to come about on the other tack. The wind was giving no signs of changing, but we had to stay well clear of the coast to avoid a possible sighting. Changing tack on any sailing ship is always fraught with danger. As you set the helm hard over, you're asking the sails to pull the head round. This means being ready with part of the deck crew to brace the yards round using the capstan and the remaining crew to haul down and let out the buntlines on the sails on the yards. Once the helmsman feels the ship responding, he can order the rest of the yards braced and the sails close-hauled. Only then can he relax, while the crew carries on coiling down.

With the wind steady and the sea quieter, the change went more smoothly than we had expected. We were heading sou'sou'west and watching for the wind to back through north as the storm moved over. I just was thinking it was time to be relieved when Edward put his head out the chart room door to shout that Richard was trying to get through.