A Ship's Tale (21 page)

Finally, Bowman's expression softened and colour returned to his face. “I never fancied duck,” he said gruffly, “but it was rare fine eating till I found out what it was. So there's no harm done. After this Mistress Cook, don't tell me what's in my grub. If it's good, I'll eat it and no questions asked. Just no duck!” he put out his gnarled hand for her to shake. She took it gladly, and there was general rejoicing. Even Edward gave her a grumbling salute.

Once the laughter and congratulations died down, Katherine looked round and squared her shoulders. “Well, let's see this galley of yours. I want to know what sort of disaster I'll be contending with.”

“The galley's shipshape and Bristol fashion,” retorted Bowman, “You'll find everything you need and more.”

I stepped into the breach and took her arm. “Here, I'll give you the grand tour.” Glad to have her away from Bowman before more trouble could brew up, I led her to the galley and proceeded to light the lamps. I felt confident of her approval, for I'd made a tidy job of it.

She first looked over the aged stove and gave a sigh. “I suppose it could be worse. At least it seems fairly clean.” I beamed proudly. I had done well. Then she opened the oven door and peered inside. This time the sigh was much deeper. “Good God, someone's been baking mud-pies in here! Well, this will want a thorough scrubbing out. A bit of blacking wouldn't hurt, either.”

My assurance evaporated as she worked her way around the galley, sometimes exclaiming to herself at what she found. At least I'd hidden the Bombay duck. She could find no spices of any sort and pointed out other omissions that had escaped our mere male attention. I brought her the lists of provisions already on board. Gazing unbelievingly at these smudged and rumpled scraps of paper, she pulled a small scribbling book from her bag and set to work. Once she'd made up a single legible list, she went over it with me, ticking off the items as she read them to me and I nodded agreement. I remembered a few things she hadn't found on our lists, and she added them on. She frowned over the finished inventory and appeared to be calculating.

This was all a bit unsettling. “It's only for about a week, at most,” I ventured.

She made no comment, but turned to a fresh page and began writing. When she'd finished, she tore off the page and handed it to me. “Here's a new list. I know time is short, but see if you can have some of this brought in. We'll be wanting proper meals three times a day for twenty growing boys and six grown men, though I'm sure Harris counts as two or three and I've been known to have the odd bite myself as well. Do be sure of getting the tinned milk and plenty of sultanas. I can bring some herbs from the Inn.” She looked at me quizzically. “About a week? You really can't be more exact about it?”

I shook my head. “There are a great many factors involved.”

“And three meals a day! Hmm! I've only been doing two on my hardest days back at the Inn. This should prove to be quite a challenge.” She was smiling as she said this, so I took heart. She wasn't bothered and she looked ready for the task. I was proud of her. We returned to the chart room, and Bowman looked at me enquiringly.

“Well, the galley might need a bit of work yet,” I said cautiously.

“And ye're just the lad for the job, Mr. Flynn,” he replied cheerfully. “The best of luck to ye.” He tipped his cap with a hint of mockery. Katherine smiled.

I saluted, “Aye aye, sir,” I said chagrined.

Katherine said she'd be down to help the next day as early as she could manage. Since our departure depended upon the weather, we couldn't be sure of when we'd sail. It wouldn't serve to have her go missing too soon, and raise any questions at the Inn. With the baking behind her, she'd have a bit of time in the morning, barring any Beasley emergencies. She bade the company a pleasant good night, and we made our way up the ladder and down the precarious gangway off the ship.

We'd only taken a few steps along the bank when Harris leaned over the side and cried, “Flynn!”

I looked round with a sigh. “What now?” I called back.

He shook clasped hands over his head. “Well done, the pair of you,” he boomed, “Bloody well done!” And with a wave, he turned and vanished below.

Katherine and I laughed, and I swung her in my arms, while the cold wind surged about us. I'd felt a drop or two of rain, so we hurried on.

She shook back her hair and took great breaths of the brisk sea air. “It's so refreshing to be out in the wind after that smoky pub. I can't tell you how awful it is to be in there with everyone puffing away at pipes and cigarettes. It makes me feel quite ill sometimes. The place smells like an ashtray, and my clothes and hair are full of it as well.”

It hadn't occurred to me until that moment that I'd never seen her have a cigarette. “Well, everyone seems to smoke,” I said uncomfortably.

She poked at the pocket where my pipe lay. “Don't they, then?”

I stopped for a moment, and then I pulled out the pipe. Upon reflection, I realised that I chewed on the thing more than I ever lit it. It was a creature comfort, but not a necessity of life. Now my Katherine,
there
was a necessity of life. “I had no idea you found it so unpleasant,” I mumbled.

“Well, after all, it's something I suppose I'll just have to live with on this voyage like I do everyday at the Inn as well,” she sighed. “I didn't like to mention it.”

I handed her the torch, and took out my tobacco pouch. I emptied the contents onto the road, wincing at the terrible waste of it. Then I took the pipe and threw it into the darkness as far as I could. I turned to her. “Well, you'll not be having that from me again.” I hoped it was true.

“That's it? You've chucked it just like that?” she exclaimed.

“As of now, as in I quit!” I declared with conviction. “I was never terribly attached to it and this is a very reasonable time to give it up.”

She put her arms round my neck and gave me such a sweet kiss that I knew it would be well worth the effort. “You
are
a good man, Flynn. And whenever the craving for a smoke should strike you while I'm nearby, you're to come and have a kiss instead. Not that you need wait till you want a pipe!” she laughed.

I held her face between my hands. “Then you must never be too far away,” I whispered, and staved off Demon Tobacco with another kiss. Then we hurried back to the Inn.

As we came up the drive, we could make out Headmaster O'Connell just exiting the landlady's door. He was easy to see in the glow of the little light above the door. He looked both ways, straightened his coat, smoothing back his thin hair, put on his hat, and strode over to the sleek Bentley. I indicated to Katherine that I was going to give him a little fright and we giggled like naughty children. I couldn't help feeling a bit devilish. Once he'd got into the car, I stepped up and rapped as hard as I could at the window. He started violently and straightened in his seat, staring about in every direction like a gun dog whose quarry has just flown up in his face. Seeing me, he wound the window down partway.

“Wha...what...what do you want?” he asked nervously.

“I was just saying good night, Mr. O'Connell, sorry to have troubled you.” We strolled on by in a casual fashion, hearing him mutter something unintelligible as he wound the window back up.

A moment later we heard the roar of his engine starting up. We turned to watch the big car set off at high speed up the road. Our eyes met and we both sputtered, holding on to one another as we laughed.

“Flynn, you're a heartless dog, frightening that poor old stinker. Did you see the look on his face! It was as good as a play. But what will you do for an encore?” she gasped.

“Oh, I don't know…shout out fire during one of their little trysts,” I suggested.

She was seized by another fit of laughter. “Come on,” she said, trying to compose herself, “let's get round the back before the Beastly one hears us.” It was sound advice, and just to spur us on, scattered raindrops started pattering down.

When we reached her cottage door, she turned breathlessly and smiled up at me. “It's been a lovely evening. I really enjoyed meeting everyone.”

“Thank you,” I grinned. “I never thought anyone could tame Bowman, but you played him like a harp, or perhaps a hoarse old bagpipe.”

“It was your plan,” she said modestly. “He's really a dear old duck. Oh my, perhaps another word would've been better.” She giggled.

“The others couldn't believe their ears when you suggested pushing him over the side. They loved it! You certainly have them all on your side,” I said. “I take my hat off to you.”

“If you do, you'll get your head wet,” she pointed out, stroking the side of my hair. She gave me a short kiss and sighed. “I hate to say this, but it's the attic for you, my man. We both need sleep and tomorrow's going to be very busy. Do you mind awfully?”

She was quite right, and I knew I'd be better with a full night's rest. I needed it, but there is such a thing as too much common sense! I would have thrown it away in an instant but for her blasted common sense. I gave her a quick kiss in return. “Thank you for being so wonderful,” I whispered, then dashed off through the rain to my own bed.

Chapter 13

ANCHORS, SAILS, AND MORE SURPRISES

I awoke to the busy chatter of the waterfowl in the rain and stretched luxuriously. I'd slept like a top and felt ready to take on the world, Mrs. Beastly included. Cheerful morning sounds and savoury breakfast smells filtered up from the downstairs kitchen where Katherine and Martin were chatting as they began their day. I lay a little longer hugging my pillow and thinking of Katherine before I forced myself out of bed and shivered into my clothes. It was a chilly one today! Glancing outside, I saw that the smoke from the morning fires was weighed down by the cold air. It rose only a few feet above the rooftops while the rain beat the smoke plumes apart.

Hustling downstairs, I had a quick wash. When I came out into the corridor, I bumped into Katherine and bade her good morning with a kiss. “I hope you slept as well as I did, even though I missed you every minute,” I said, holding her tightly.

She smiled playfully and punched my arm. “Hush, I think I hear the Beasley. Come and have some breakfast.”

We went into the kitchen where Martin was at table reading his paper. I sipped my tea while Katherine bustled about setting out a nice meal for me. There came the rumble of a heavy vehicle and I looked out, wondering why the victualler would be coming again so soon. Just passing the drive on its way down towards our moorage was a large lorry with a crane mounted on its bed, towing a flat trailer freighted with a big canvas-covered cube.

This alone was potential cause for alarm, and then it suddenly dawned on me that it wasn't raining any more. I quickly opened the door and had a good look from the step. Oh, it was dark and cloudy, but the rain had stopped. I knew there were government personnel standing by with a tug for the first hint of a dry day. I snapped up my coat from the hook and told Katherine to hold breakfast as I'd be back shortly. I was ready to dash straight out, when I had the bad luck to be spotted by Mrs. Beastly. She hailed me.

“Just a moment, Mr. Flynn, I've got your list for today.”

I stopped in my tracks and turned round, “Could it wait for a little while, Mrs. Beasley? I was just going for a short run. I'll be back in half a tick.”

“A run?” she said, puzzled. “With breakfast on the table? How odd.”

“Yes,” I babbled, “I like to let it cool, you see.” I began running in place. “Very stimulating to the appetite and digestion, having a run before breakfast. Do have a look at all the work I've done on your new wall. I've carried all the rocks down from the rockery.”

As she turned to look, I seized the opportunity to escape. Flinging my scarf about my neck, I dashed out the door with a last look back at Katherine. I made for the bottom of the garden, swampy though it was, and pelted down the footpath. If only I could have overtaken that lorry! I shivered despite my exertions. It was a cold world today, even for a long-distance runner. I took my watch cap from my pocket and pulled it over my ears as I went.

Panting and gasping, I came in sight of the
Bonnie Clyde
. The crane was in operation, lowering the great shrouded crate down into the main hatchway. I relaxed and slackened my pace as I saw that this was being done under Boris's supervision. The others were paying little attention to it. It seemed that I'd been alarmed over nothing.

Then to my horror, I saw the crane operator's mate attach the hook to one of the ship's anchors that was secured to the bow. Bowman set up an exceedingly loud and outraged protest at sight of this. The worker in attendance on board, a laconic fellow in a battered trilby hat, tried to reassure him.

“Shouldn't go to the bottom, guvnor. It'll make a better remembrance put up safe on shore.”

The crane operator shut off his motors to hear what was said. After a moment's listening to Bowman's ravings, he put in a word himself. “Look here, the suit-and-bowler brigade says these anchors is coming off and off they're coming. You don't want this nice lot o' scrap gone to waste—think what it's worth by the pound.”

I wondered if I should step in, but as Boris was standing by looking calm, I concluded that this unfortunate development was part of the plan and must be endured. Bowman was nearly beside himself with rage. His face was that familiar beet-red, and his language would have scorched even the most callused ear. But Mr. Trilby Hat signalled his mate to start up again, and followed along as the anchor was hoisted off from the ship and laid on the trailer. Then the chains were cut away. “No need for these now,” remarked Trilby Hat. The crane swung back round and hooked onto the second anchor to the discordant accompaniment of Bowman's invectives. The last anchor was pulled unceremoniously off her bow and laid against the other. Once the last chain was cut and both anchors stowed on the lorry's flatbed, Trilby Hat started up the gangway.

“Ye'll not be settin' foot aboard this ship again,” shouted Bowman, shaking his fist. There was a tense moment. Then I heard heavy footsteps behind me, and turned to see Harris approaching at express train speed. He passed me without a glance and went straight to the gangway. Taking hold of the end of it, he lifted it from the bank and then let it slam down again, sending Trilby Hat flailing into the rope handrails, where he clung on for dear life.

Harris marched past him up the gangway and joined Bowman at the rail, from which position the old man was treating the struggling figure to his opinions on the antecedents of both Trilby Hat and the crane operator. Harris tried to calm him, but with little success. Disengaging himself from the ropes, the unwelcome visitor adjusted his trilby and continued up the gangway onto the deck.

“I don't know who you are,” he said, looking at Harris warily, “but we've a job to do here.”

Harris looked him up and down. “And I don't know who you are, and I don't really care. I'd say you've done your job. You've already taken the things left of real value.”

“That's as may be,” the other grunted. He then walked back and up to the bridge deck stopping at the ship's wheel. He tugged off the canvas that covered the binnacle in hopes of finding the ship's compass. A glance showed him that the binnacle was untenanted. Looking no further, he replaced the canvas and took himself to the wheel. Leaning a hand on it, he called down to shore, “Hoy, Sam! Can you bring a couple of wrenches up here?”

“Belay that order,” Harris barked, taking hold of Trilby Hat by his lapels. “Now
you
pin back your lugholes and listen to
me
. You may not understand this, but when towing this ship out, someone has to be manning the helm to keep her on the straight course, otherwise she'll yaw all over the place and probably part the towline. So make up your mind that there's nothing else here you'll be taking.”

The fellow looked at the old wheel regretfully, but he saw the logic in Harris's words and relented. Harris released him. The man started down forward on the main deck, but paused at the aft hatchway and slid back the cover to have a look. His eyes met those of Edward, climbing up from below.

“What is it you'd be wanting here?” the old Irishman growled.

Trilby's persistence or stupidity was astounding. “Well, guvnor, I'm going below to find out if there's something else worth salvaging, if you must know.”

Edward scowled, his eyes burning slits. “I don't believe that it's any of your bloody business. Whatever else is left down there belongs to the ship, 'tisn't your concern.”

Trilby stood his ground and begged to differ. Bowman, never one to miss a good argument, now joined in.

Harris doffed his coat as though preparing for action. “The next step he takes down that ladder will be the one that takes him over side,” he muttered to no one in particular.

It was dawning on the fellow that he was decidedly overmatched. Looking at all of us, he shrugged his shoulders and walked down the gangway to the shore. The lorry departed up the road with its plunder.

Bowman was still fuming over our loss. “Look at that! They've got the bloody anchors! I can't believe it.” He sat down, suddenly looking alarmingly pale and weak. He put his hand up to his heart and leaned back against the mast.

“Are you all right, Uncle Billy?” Harris enquired anxiously. “Is that ticker of yours playing you up again?”

“Nay, nay, I'll be fine. These frays just wear down my patience, that's all. What I wouldn't give to be able to sail out and never see any of these thieving bastards again!” One could see that he was having difficulty breathing. Harris wanted to open his coat and have a listen at his heart. “Give over wi' that nonsense,” Bowman said, and waved us off.

Harris tried to console him by pointing out that losing the anchors wasn't really a problem since we weren't making for an anchorage. Since we would be docking, there'd be no real need of them.

“Small comfort,” sighed Bowman, “when they'll be taking us off with hardly a bit of sail. The sails aren't ready, and that's that.” He brushed his hands off wearily as though finishing with a long and hopeless task. He looked up at the barren yardarms. “This is a wind-ship without lungs, and soon we'll see her drowned. Aye, scuttled and gone down to meet those that went before her.”

Harris's broad jaw was stubbornly set as he patted Bowman on the back. “Here here, that's no way to talk. We're not beaten yet! You sit tight. I'm going up to Whitechapel and bring back every finished sail my old wagon can carry.” Wasting no time, he dashed off down the gangway and ran for his lorry. A moment later he was roaring off with me running after, hoping for a quick ride up to the Inn. I was too late, and all I got was a pelting of mud and gravel thrown up by his tyres. I retreated back to the
Bonnie
and was relieved to see Bowman looking much improved. Boris and I saw him below out of the cold and Edward passed him a hot toddy. He seemed in good hands.

“Is there anything I can do for you here?” I asked.

Bowman said, “I don't think so. I'm going to stay here with Ned. Take yerself back to the Inn and we'll send word when ye're needed.”

“Right,” I responded, and started back for the Inn. A sharp wind was rising up as I walked, and it began to blossom into a real gale. The weather always seemed to turn while I was en route between the Inn and the ship, probably because I spent so bloody much time out on this bit of road! Looking up, I could see several figures moving on the path that led to the orphanage but at this distance couldn't make out who they were. The wind increased steadily. At least it was at my back, though that made it no warmer, and I still had to battle for control of my course. The peaceful wet morning I'd awakened to had well and truly fled. At last I got back and struggled through the kitchen door, pulled off my coat, and sat down at the table with a sigh of relief. I looked up at Katherine. “There, half a tick,” I quipped through chattering teeth.

She shook her head smiling and set a mug of hot tea before me. “I kept your breakfast warm for you.” She went to the oven and brought out my plates. With this restorative array before me and Katherine looking on, life brightened. I still couldn't help being worried at the uncertainty of our situation.

“Thanks very much,” I said.

She detected the sober tone to my voice and my expression. “New developments?” she enquired alertly.

“I'm concerned,” I said. “We still don't have our sails, and Bowman's got a dicky heart. Harris has gone up to the sail-makers and he'll fetch back whatever can be used. I hope there'll be enough. There isn't anything we can do for Bowman, except try to keep him calm. I don't see any point in you having to rush down there this morning. We'll need to see how Harris fares.”

She put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed it gently. “Well, we'll just wait and hope for the best. I'm sure Harris will accomplish whatever he sets out to do.”

“Of course you're right,” I replied, sipping my tea. Outside it was turning out a harsh bit of October gale and there'd be no towing anything out to sea today. No tugs would be active but for emergencies, and there'd be little but the bell buoys and the Southend light to greet any incoming ship this day. All the tugs were snug at their moorings, and I knew we'd be safe from them for the moment. I wondered what would come of Harris's visit to the shop in Whitechapel. He intended to come back with sails, but the gales that would keep vessels in port today could also present a grave hazard to a large vehicle. There was nothing to do but wait, so I tucked into my breakfast.

I was finishing my last bit of scone and began to long for my pipe when the landlady bustled in, a bit like a gale wind herself. She told me I'd a good start on the wall and when could I be back at it? After all, wind should be no deterrent to piling up stones, now should it? I told her that I'd exhausted the supply of stones in the vicinity and needed to cart them in from farther off. I took the opportunity to ask if she could pay me today, pointing out that tomorrow was my usual day off. She saw no problem with that and insisted on paying in cash. Having handed over the bank-notes and coin with her customary ill-grace, she then led me off on a round of minor repairs, one after the other: loose shutters, leaky pipes and such. I was paid up through today, and she wanted her money's worth.

When lunchtime came, she went back into her parlour to take her meal in private, and I returned to the kitchen. Katherine guided me to my chair and gave me a heartening hug from behind. “No lorry passed by yet,” she said, “though with all the howling and rattling of the wind, one could very well miss it.” We both kept an ear cocked for Harris's return.

Something occurred to me, and I pulled her galley list from my pocket. “I don't see how I can attend to this. When the sails come, I won't have a moment to get away. Can you take it?”

She nodded her head, “I know what's on it.”