Lifeboat! (8 page)

Macready returned aft to retake the wheel and relay the message through Pete to the helicopter pilot.

‘Saltershaven lifeboat, this is Rescue Five-five. Suggest you steer course on bearing two-three-zero as we begin our approach. Over.'

Macready promptly turned the helm to bring the lifeboat pointing in the right direction.

‘… Proceeding on course two-three-zero. Over,' Pete informed the pilot who at once began to manoeuvre his machine to hover about forty feet above the water astern of the lifeboat approaching at an angle of thirty degrees to the port side of the lifeboat so that the winchman and winch operator had the lifeboat in view all the time as he descended from the opening on the starboard side of the helicopter.

Macready watched as the winchman appeared and, swinging slightly, was lowered down towards them whilst Macready kept the lifeboat at a steady speed. The air was filled with noise, the draught from the whirling propellers flattening the waves around the lifeboat as the helicopter came nearer and nearer. The winchman landed on the flat surface of the box at the stern of the boat and immediately disconnected himself from the winch line. The helicopter swung away for a short distance until Nigel Milner had been strapped and secured to the Neil Robertson stretcher the winchman had brought down with him.

The signal was given that they were ready and Pete called up the helicopter which moved in again. The winchman caught the swinging cable and attached it to himself and the stretcher and then steadily they were hauled aloft, swaying and twisting round and round, towards the helicopter.

The faces of the lifeboat crew were upturned towards the Sea King still droning noisily above them, until they saw that the stretcher was safely aboard. The helicopter lifted and swung away towards the coast.

Within minutes the boy would be at a hospital.

Macready swung the wheel and turned the
Mary Martha Clamp
towards Saltershaven, pausing only whilst two members of his crew retrieved the inflatable from the water. Pete Donaldson was speaking on the R/T to Breymouth informing them that the boys had been found, the service completed and that the lifeboat was returning to Saltershaven, the estimated time of arrival being 17.45.

When the lifeboat beached, Joe and Blanche Milner were waiting on the sands with a policeman. So was Jack Hansard, who came right to the water's edge in his landrover to pick up the casualty. At the end of Beach Road, an ambulance waited.

The lifeboat drove in, bows foremost, through the shallows, the point of the bow almost reaching dry sand. The launchers were ready with their balancing poles, which were inserted on either side and held by two launchers on each pole, whilst others placed the skeats—wooden slipboards with loops of rope at each end—under the bows of the boat. The cable from the tractor was attached and began to haul the heavy boat from the water.

As the
Mary Martha Clamp
came clear of the water out on to the hard sand, there was a pause whilst Martin Milner, with a blanket around his shoulders, was handed down the ladder to Tony Douglas.

‘Put me down, mister,' Martin said and began to wriggle as he saw his mother running across the sand towards him. ‘Put me down.'

Thinking the boy wanted to show his anxious mother that he was all right, Tony set him down on the warm sand and, seeing that he was reasonably steady on his feet, allowed the boy to walk towards the woman.

But the loving, tearful reunion, which Tony Douglas had expected, did not happen.

Thwarted of her revenge upon both boys, Blanche's hysterical anger fell upon Martin's frail and trembling shoulders. She flew towards the child, hand raised and clouted him across the side of the head, felling the already unsteady little boy to the sand.

Fred Douglas saw his son, Tony, grit his teeth and move towards the screeching woman threateningly. He was beside him in an instant to lay his hand, warningly, on Tony's arm.

‘Here, steady on, missus,' Fred spoke up first. ‘We know the little lads have done wrong, but they've had their punishment …'

‘What the bloody 'ell do you know about it?' She turned on Fred, who smiled sadly at the uncontrolled woman. He watched as Joe Milner tried to take her by the arm and reason with her, but she only struck out at him too, lashing his face viciously.

At that moment Jack Hansard moved forward and scooped the boy up from the sand and carried him to the waiting landrover.

‘Where are you takin'him?' Blanche screamed after the coastguard and made as if to follow, but Joe held on to her, fighting her flailing arms and kicking feet. ‘Blanche, Blanche, for God's sake.'

The police constable took hold of Blanche's arm. ‘ Now look here, love, he needs a hospital check. And your other lad's there. Calm down, missus, and we'll take you there in the police car.'

Blanche pulled her arm from his grasp. ‘ I ain't ridin' in no bloody police car!' And with that parting shot, she ran, stumbling, up the beach.

Joe sighed heavily. ‘Officer, I'd be glad to come to the hospital if you'd be good enough to take me.'

‘Of course, sir, come along.'

They turned and followed the landrover making its way up the beach towards the ambulance waiting to take Martin to the hospital.

Macready saw them go out the corner of his eye, but then his full attention was claimed by the beaching procedure.

The lifeboat was hauled up on to the carriage, the chains secured and the tractor swivelled around once more, recoupled and the rescue party moved off up the beach.

Back in the boathouse hot soup and a tea-urn brought in from one of the nearby front cafes—owned and run by Pete Donaldson's parents-in-law, as it happened, where Angie often helped out in her spare time—awaited the crew and launchers, but the work was not done even yet.

The
Mary Martha Clamp
, her carriage and tractor had to be hosed down with soapy water and rinsed again with clear water. The lifeboat was refuelled, the oil level and cooling system checked thoroughly.

Only then, approximately an hour and a half after beaching, could Macready telephone his headquarters at Breymouth to report that the Saltershaven lifeboat was now back on station and ready for service.

Out in the Atlantic the depression continued its steady progress towards the Irish Sea.

‘Dad, you remember Howard?’

Her father was looking tired, Julie could see, but to her relief he held
out his hand towards her young man and smiled. ‘Glad to see you again,
Howard.’

‘And you, sir.’

As they sat down to their meal, Howard said, ‘Would you care for a glass
of champagne, sir?’

Macready looked up to see the good-looking young man holding a green
glass bottle. He glanced at Julie and saw the blush of embarrassment
creeping up her neck.

Smiling inwardly, but keeping his face straight, Macready said, ‘Thank
you, that would be very nice,’ and pushed his glass forward.

Of course it went with the Ferrari and the brand-new sailing-dinghy
standing in the driveway, he could see that, but Macready had only ever
bought champagne twice in his life—for his wedding and at the birth of his
daughter.

Attempting conversation, Howard Marshall-Smythe asked, ‘Was it a
successful rescue, sir?’

Macready sighed wearily. ‘ Och, it was one of those times when it leaves
a bad taste in the mouth. The rescue itself was successful—one laddie
looks in pretty bad shape though. The helicopter took him to hospital.’

‘Oh I say, you have a helicopter here as well, do you?’ Howard
Marshall-Smythe seemed for a moment impressed.

‘Not here, no,’ Macready replied. ‘We call in the R.A. F air/sea rescue
helicopter from a base in Norfolk.’

‘Oh.’ There was an expressive pause as Howard added, ‘ I see.’

The silence, whilst they ate, was a little uncomfortable and was not
improved by Howard’s next remark. ‘And you’re employed on a full-time
basis as coxswain, are you, sir?’ Howard laughed as he added, ‘It sounds
just the sort of job that would suit me. One or two rescues a week and the
rest of the time free.’

Macready said nothing. Normally he would not have allowed anyone to
escape with such a loaded remark, but this young man was a guest in his
house, Julie’s guest, and one glance at his daughter’s face told him that
she was already suffering agonies of embarrassment, knowing as she did how
Howard’s tactlessness would anger Macready.

It was not so much anger that Macready felt towards this young man and
his like, as an incredulity and a kind of sadness that anyone could be so
ignorant of the true nature of the lifeboat service of his country. A
service which at any time Howard, or his family, might have to call upon.

The care and attention that Macready lavished on the
Mary Martha Clamp
,
on its mechanical and electrical equipment and on the tractor and even the
boathouse too, was almost a full-time occupation in itself. Engines and
motors could not be left to chance. It was vital they started first time,
every
time. All the life-saving equipment, ropes, pulleys,
life-jackets, the breeches-buoy, flares, first-aid supplies and
equipment—all had to be in perfect condition at all times.

The coxswain was in daily, almost hourly, contact with his local
coastguard, with the Coastal Rescue Headquarters at Breymouth and with
Bill Luthwaite, the local honorary secretary of the lifeboat, to say
nothing of the publicity side of his work. Because the Royal National
Lifeboat institution was a voluntary organisation, existing only from
funds raised from the public, the lifeboat station was open daily
throughout the summer and literally thousands of people would climb the
wooden steps to look over the
Mary Martha Clamp
. Though they were
not allowed on board, they had a good view of the inner workings of the
boat and Coxswain Macready was nearly always on hand to answer their
hundred and one questions.

There was speech-making, lectures and film shows to give all the year
round and throughout it all Macready was on call twenty-four hours a day.
At any time, day or night, he could be called out on a service. Never,
ever, was there a time in the day when Bill Luthwaite did not know
Macready’s exact whereabouts.

With great forbearance, Macready changed the subject, at least partially.
‘I see you have a sailing dinghy.’

‘Oh yes, sir. I bought her last week. Haven’t had chance to try her out
yet. I was hoping we’d have the opportunity this weekend.’

‘Have you had any experience?’ Macready asked, careful to keep any
sharpness, any sign of anxiety, from his tone.

‘Oh yes, sir. I row for my House at the University, and I was telling
Julie, as a nipper I used to spend all the hols with some friends of mine
who had a boat. Never out of it hardly.’

Macready smiled thinly. ‘Well, take care. Julie knows this coast well, of
course, but it can be very treacherous.’

Howard laughed again. ‘ I hear there’s a very good rescue service in this
area.’

For a dreadful moment Macready felt a shudder pass through him and a
shadow cross his eyes like a terrible premonition, like Fate striking a
blow at the young man’s wisecrack.

Macready laid his knife and fork together and rose from the table. ‘Will
you excuse me now? I’m away to ring the hospital an’ see how that wee
laddie is.’

In the hall, Macready dialled the number of the hospital at St
Botolphs—the nearest major hospital to Saltershaven. He was put through to
the appropriate ward and he asked the sister in charge for news of the
boy, Nigel Milner.

‘Are you a relative?’ the sharp voice asked.

‘No, no, I’m not but I was concerned about the wee laddie.’

‘Who is that speaking? What is your connection with the boy?’

‘It’s Macready from Saltershaven, the coxswain …’

He got no further for immediately the woman’s tone altered. ‘Oh Mr
Macready—I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it was you. The boy is in Intensive
Care at the moment, but he is already showing signs of improvement since
he was first brought in.’

‘But you think he will be all right?’

‘Oh yes, Mr Macready. If all goes well he should be out of the I. C Unit
tomorrow and in the Children’s Ward.’

‘Good, good.’

The Sister added, ‘We’ve had the mother here …’ She paused as if waiting
for some comment from Macready. He could well imagine the Sister’s
reaction to Mrs Milner if the woman had put on the same show at the
hospital as she had at the beach. But Macready remained silent. It was not
his nature to condemn Blanche Milner. He was a kindly, compassionate man
and over the years had seen anxiety and fear play cruel tricks with
people’s emotions.

‘Aye well, I’d be across mysel’ to see the laddie, but we’ve a busy
weekend here, ye ken?’

‘I do understand, Mr Macready.’

‘I’ll be in touch again, though. Thank you, Sister.’

‘Goodnight, Mr Macready.’

He had replaced the receiver and was about to go back into the
dining-room when the phone began to ring.

‘Macready.’

‘Mac—it’s Bill. There’s been another call about a flare seen out on Haven
Flats again. This time it came from the police, but again no further
information, no name, nothing. Someone just dialled nine-nine-nine and
yelled down the phone that they’d seen a red flare out at sea.’

Macready let out a long sigh. ‘Eeh, dear, dear. And no one else has seen
anything? Have you checked with Jack?’

‘Yes. He’s on the front now in his landrover taking a look.’

‘I’ll meet you there—at the end of Beach Road.’

‘Right you are.’

Macready poked his head round the dining-room door. ‘I’m away to the
boathouse. Looks as if our hoaxer’s on the loose again.’

‘He means you having a busy weekend, Mr Macready,’ Howard said.

‘Aye, it looks like it,’ Macready replied shortly.

Julie was on her feet, ‘Oh Dad …’ The worried look on her face caught at
the big man’s heart.