We Float Upon a Painted Sea (27 page)

“Where’ve you been?”

“I just popped outside for a while.”

“Did you bring back some bacon rolls?”

“No. I’ve got good news and bad news for you. I climbed up on top of the wheelhouse and found that the VHF and UHF aerials are smashed and the GPS is busted. So is the radar. This boat has been through the mixer.”

“Great, so we’re still no wiser to our location. What’s the good news? You found another bottle of Talisker?” Andrew rubbed his bearded chin and said, 

“I think I’ve got a rough idea what direction to take to find land.”

“Did you find the compass?”

“Yes, I did but it’s an electronic compass and it needs calibrated. I’ve looked everywhere for a magnetic compass but nothing.”

“So what do you propose Sherlock?”

“Well, there are some old charts in the wheelhouse so if we can judge the position of the sun at noon, we can get a bearing.”

“It’s been a long time since we saw the sun, let alone the time.”

“All we need is an approximation of the sun and we can get our bearings. We know if we go east then we will make land. Until then we need to mend the propeller.” Bull looked at the survival box.

“I’m proper starving,” he said. “Any chance we could get some breakfast before carrying out the repairs? If we mixed some of those oat bars with water, we could make porridge.” Andrew opened the tool box and stared inside. He said,

“I suppose breakfast would be a good idea.”

Bull pulled a number of boxes from under the side benches. He found a bowl and a spoon. He half filled the bowl with water and then blended in a crumbled ration bar.” His mood lifting, he handed Andrew the bowl and said,

“Get tucked into that.”

“I think I’ll forgo the porridge. It looks like school gruel.”

“When did you go to school, the nineteenth century?”

“I think it was a gastric tradition, or early morning torture.” Bull spooned the porridge into his mouth then licked the bowl clean.

With an emaciated smile Andrew said, 

“Funny to think that when I was at school I used to actually daydream about being marooned at sea, being washed up on a tropical island and trying to survive on nature’s bounty. Have you ever read Treasure Island or Robinson Crusoe?” Bull shook his head. Andrew continued, “I was captivated by adventures on the high seas. Didn’t you ever read Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
?” Andrew glanced out of the porthole and onto the sea for inspiration and tried to remember his favourite stanza. Bull busied himself making more cold porridge as Andrew recited a line,

“Instead of the cross, the albatross about my neck was hung.” Bull looked at him curiously for a moment. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He said,

“I was watching this nature documentary with Saffron. It was about how albatrosses mate for life, and if one of the partners dies, it’s known for the other mate to waste away with a broken heart or even end its own life. On the other hand, a dog will basically copulate with anything that moves, and once he’s finished his business, he’s off looking for another bitch on heat.”

Andrew stared at Bull, his expression aghast at his boorish statement but in a perverse way he was partly interested.

“I’m struggling to see the relevance, perhaps you should elaborate.”

“Saffron took my hand and looked straight into my eyes and asked, so which one are you Faerrleah? Are you the dog or are you an albatross? I woofed in her face.” Bull laughed until he coughed. Andrew laughed. He said,

“Is that your name then?” Bull’s smile faded. He looked reflectively through the porthole and to the ocean. Finally, he said,

“Yes but only my family call me Faerrleah.”

“Ok, Faerrleah.” Bull ignored Andrew’s devilish smirk. He said,

“She had these big beautiful dark eyes which I will never forget. It was as if the iris merged into the pupil to make these large deep, mystical pools which drew you in, but with a softness to them.”

“Like a bush baby. I read somewhere, in one of those in-flight magazines no doubt, that hundreds of years ago, Italian women would extract the juice from deadly nightshade berries, belladonna they called it, and they would drop the liquid into their eyes to dilate the pupils.”

“She didn’t squeeze berries into her eyes.”

“I never said she did. Although lots of women use chemicals these days to give themselves that puppy dog eye expression.”

“It was natural, she wasn’t a phoney and she didn’t use chemicals to enhance any of her attributes. She was very organic. She didn’t believe in cosmetic surgery or faking anything. She was in love with the earth and in love with nature.”

“But not in love with you? I can sympathise with that sentiment.” Bull’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened. He said,

“I wouldn’t need to stay up all night wondering why your wife left you.” Andrew looked at Bull’s empty bowl and barked,

“You’re right! You are a dog. I’m going to try and repair the radar.” Andrew opened the escape hatch door and left.

Later, Andrew returned to the cabin. Bull was studying a nautical chart of the Outer Hebrides.

“I’d rather you didn’t mess around with the charts if you don’t know what you are doing. I don’t want them getting covered in gruel and your sticky paw prints. We could end up heading for an island only to find it was a bit of porridge gruel that had fallen from your face onto the map.” Bull continued studying the map. Finally, he said,

“How did you get on trying to fix the radar?” Andrew grunted,

“No success there I’m afraid. It’s taken a bit of a battering.” Andrew stabbed his finger on the map and said,

“The prevailing winds and sea currents tend to go north east at this time of year so we’re somewhere over here I would guess.”

“We need to do better than just guess. Our lives could depend on it.”

“I’m only going with what information is available to us.”

“The wind always seemed to be changing direction and for all we know, the raft could have been going round in circles.”

“Hopefully, by nightfall the fog will have lifted and the stars will miraculously appear. All I need is a reliable reference point.”

Andrew thought back to when, as a child he used to be able to pick out the North Star at random by drawing an imaginary line in the night time sky from the Plough. He imagined the early sailors of old plotting a direction in a similar way. Bull passed the charts to Andrew and said,

“Okay, you seem to know more about maritime navigation than me.” Andrew continued to study the charts in silence. Bull said,

“Where do you think this lifeboat came from? Was it from our ship?”

“I would imagine our ship wasn’t the only one to be caught by the wave. It would explain why there’s so much damage to the rigging. I don’t know enough about these types of vessels. I’ve never been in this situation before.”

“Apart from your Canvey Island adventure.”  Andrew glared at Bull. 

“Can I suggest something more practical than sitting around talking? Don’t you think we should mend the propeller now?”

“I’m with you on that, particularly while we have some daylight left.

Later, Andrew was back in the ocean, unravelling a wire warp that had fouled the propeller blades. Bull stood on the deck holding him on the end of a lifeline so he could work without drifting. When Andrew had finished, they returned to the cabin. Andrew wrapped himself in a foil blanket. He was doubled over and felt sick. Bull worked out how to use a self-heating packet of soup. He handed Andrew a half full steaming cup and said,

“It’s a bit bland. It could do with a little salt but at least it’s hot.” Andrew sat on the centre bench shivering under his thermal blanket. He clasped the warm cup and pulled it tight to his body, vowing never to take a hot drink for granted again. It was the first warm beverage since breakfast on the Andrea Starlight. Eventually, he said,

“I think I’ve swallowed enough salt today. I used to love the sea. As a boy I remember visiting a lovely beach called Balcary Bay down in the Solway Firth, playing in a rock pool and getting caught out by the tide. Great memories, but if I never saw the sea again, I would die a happy man.” Bull stared at Andrew and said,

“I have a similar memory. Funny that.”

In the evening Bull joined Andrew on the deck. He brought with him two thermal blankets, tins of boiled ham, stewed apples and scalloped potatoes. Andrew sliced the ham and they mixed it with the apples and potatoes. They eat until their guts were full. Bull said,

“I don’t suppose you saved that bottle of Talisker?” Andrew shook his head and returned below to the cabin and studied the nautical charts. Later, the wind picked up and the fog dispersed, revealing the moon and stars. Andrew Bull lay back on the deck, resting his head on the wheelhouse and wonderingly, he gazed into the celestial display above his head. The cool breeze brushed against his face and the sensation of fresh air invigorated his senses. He listened to the sound of the waves lapping against the boat and for a moment he forgot about his plight. Bull thought back to the narrowboat and the summer nights, sipping chilled elderflower wine and talking with Saffron until the sun came up. Finally, Andrew returned. He stood gazing at the stars and then pointed to the North Star, and said,

“That is Polaris.  I’ve got my bearing. I can calibrate the electronic compass. We’re going home my friend.”

They returned through the escape hatch door and started the engine.

Chapter 20: Salty Tales of the Holmes Family

During the night the rain returned and the North Star vanished behind a blanket of cloud. Andrew cut the engine and dropped anchor. In the morning they went up on deck to survey the featureless seascape. No land. Bull returned below and made cold porridge with a ration bar. He returned offering a bowl of the gruel to Andrew. After breakfast they discussed if a dark line on the horizon was the coastline or a stream of slow moving cloud. When the line changed shape and merged with the sky they contemplated their next move. Bull looked around at the grey ocean and said,

“Christ’s sake, this is hopeless.” Andrew looked at Bull, licking his bowl clean and said, “Don’t bring God’s name into this.”

“I never mentioned God’s name.”

“You did, you said for Christ’s sake. We’ve had enough bad fortune without you compounding things by blaspheming.”

“It’s just an expression. I don’t believe in God, so it’s not blaspheming. It only counts if you believe.” Andrew looked at the grey sky and said,

“What do you believe in if not God?” Bull shrugged his shoulders. He understood the concept of believing in God but he had a strong impression that religion was riddled with hypocrisy. He said,

“I don’t go for the theory of an omnipotent deity, but I don’t have a problem with others believing whatever they like. It’s religion I have difficulty with, particularly the fundamentalist movement and their attempts to force feed us their views, whether we’re open to them or not. I prefer to keep outside religion.” Andrew looked into his bowl of porridge mournfully and said,

“As a child, every Sunday my father marched my brother and I to church and when we returned we were forced to read the Bible. At the time, I must admit, I hated every moment of it. I wanted to walk out into the hills or play in the woods or go fishing with my grandfather, but I’m not so resentful now. It has made me a better person.”

“I don’t follow you Sherlock. So why do you think religion has made you a better person?”

“It instilled in me a discipline that has remained through-out my years. There’s a time for play but more importantly, there’s a time for work and a time for prayer.”

“What’s discipline got to do with religion?”

“Everything. Without discipline, you can’t have religion. There’s an order to life and religion is at the centre of that. It’s about taking responsibility. It’s about living our life through Christ’s example.”

“Christ’s example? I was under the impression from my limited teachings that Christ was about love and tolerance. How many wars, all the way through history, have been started by religion? Let’s suppose there was a God, do you think he would be pleased with the way his creation has turned out? All the slaughter and torture in his name? It’s all a contradiction. You can keep it.”

Andrew fidgeted in his seat. His haemorrhoids were playing up again and he didn’t like the direction the conversation was taking. He said,

“Not all wars were started by religion, but even the ones that were, the people believed at the time they were doing God’s work.” Bull drummed a slow beat on the hull with his fingers. He said,

“Yeah, I’m with you on that, if you can snare them early enough people can be brainwashed into believing anything.”

“Religion still has its place in civilised society.”

“We’ve outgrown religion and power now lies in politics, law and multinational conglomerates. We wage war on the basis of economic expansion and things like oil drilling rights in the Arctic, but that’s not what they tell the public. They’re told that wars need to be waged to protect our democracy, our freedom, our culture and our faith. Religion is a scam and, like the others, it’s a cunning deception.” Andrew rubbed his forehead with a clenched fist. He said through gritted teeth, “I think you are over simplifying things, just a wee bit. Are you denying that Christ even existed? Even historians will provide you with evidence that he walked the earth.”