A Ship's Tale (31 page)

I'd been on the night watch and was looking forward to a good sleep, though the sea was running twenty-foot swells and was making the ship pitch much like a roller coaster ride. Harris had come on deck and was walking about inspecting work done and seeing what needed doing. He suddenly called to me, “By the way, where's that Robert? I haven't seen him yet.”

“Oh? I have,” I replied. “He's aloft helping Boris.” It was difficult to see to the top shrouds when we were under full sail, but I had seen Robert going up with Boris. Two pairs of hands would be needed if they were to make a good job of mending sails aloft. Harris and I were now standing looking up into the rigging. “Those two have been working together on quite a few things lately,” I remarked.

“That's interesting,” said Harris, “Boris is usually a real lone wolf, but then everyone on a ship should have someone to rely on. Each of us needs someone to have there, wherever they are, when the storm really breaks.”

I turned to Harris and added, “I assume that you're on the day watch. I've been on the night watch, so if you'll excuse me now I'd like to go enjoy my breakfast. Then I'm going to lie down in my cabin. If anyone needs me,
find somebody else
!” I said, hoping that Harris saw I was serious.

I was so tired that I could barely keep awake to eat my food. Once I'd had a little sleep, lunch at least could be taken in a conscious state. I told Katherine I was sorry, but I'd talk to her later and went to my cabin collapsing fully dressed onto my bunk. It seemed as though only seconds had passed when there was a knock at the door. The only thing I could muster was a feeble please go away. Instead, the door slid open and Katherine came in, shutting it behind her.

“Just checking up on you, Flynn,” she smiled. “You looked like death warmed up when you came below today.”

“I felt like it,” I said weakly.

“Indeed,” she responded with a sympathetic smile. “Now, off with your jacket and shirt while I massage your back.” She had a bottle of embrocation which she kneaded into my aching muscles. They responded gratefully to every touch. I lay back down to rest while we talked briefly. Since I wasn't going to have the night watch again that evening I told her that I'd come by and help her secure things in the cabin. “That would be fine,” she said, “I'll be waiting. However, the news I bring is that Harris would like to see you on the main deck, and that we seem to be proceeding according to schedule.” I thanked her and did my best to sit back up. She opened the door just a bit to see if there was anyone in the passageway, then quickly disappeared. I put my shirt and jacket back over my tired shoulders.

I must have fallen off to sleep. I was awakened first by nearly being thrown onto the deck, as the ship seemed to stand on her bowsprit and then crash back onto a more or less even keel. An instant later came a terrible banging and clanging as if a set of steam hammers were working just outside my cabin door. A freak wave had obviously caught us, pouring tons of water onto the well and main decks, and was now running off through the freeing ports. These were heavy doors set in the bulwarks. Hinged outward at the top, they opened by pressure to release all the water, and then crashed back shut. I slid open my door and staggered down the passage on my way up to the main deck. I realised that it would be hard going unless I either grew more legs, unlikely, or got a few more hours of sleep, equally unlikely.

As I slid open the hatchway, daylight stabbed my eyes like a cruel pair of daggers. I felt my way up to the deck, squinting against the bright sun. The day was still clear, the winds were steady, but great dark storm clouds were building in the east. Everything was masked—shrouded in fog on the horizon. I don't believe the sun could have been any brighter without blinding all on board. I thought about the tinted glasses I had somewhere in my belongings, given to me by an aviator friend of mine, but alas, I had no recall as to where they would be at that moment.

As I squinted and rubbed my eyes, Harris walked over and handed me a mug of coffee. “Take a drink of this,” he said.

“Thank you,” I said, taking a sip. “Boy!” I exclaimed, handing it back, “what the bloody hell is in this?”

“It's coffee of course, a little milk, some sugar, and a shot of whisky,” answered Harris.

I ran my tongue over my teeth a few times. “Isn't it a wee bit early in the day to start with that?” I asked.

“Keeps my blood warm,” he said, “and besides it's already 0800, not so early. We're doing well—in fact so well that we're ahead of schedule near as I can tell, at least as far as we've a schedule to
be
on.”

“Exactly what does that mean?” I asked.

Harris scratched his head. “Did you wake up in an interrogation mood there, Flynn?”

I held up a placating hand. “I'm still a bit tired yet,” I groaned.

“I suppose that what I'm saying is that we're making good time and Edward seems happy. He and Bowman haven't had an argument for at least two hours. That in itself is a major accomplishment,” quipped Harris.

I looked up at the boys working in the rigging, up on the yardarms, trimming out a few sails and setting full some others that had been furled when the wind had threatened them. They were replacing old rope and checking the stays that would be put to a serious strain by the approaching storm.

Harris went on, “While you were sleeping, I managed to contact Dick. He had read all about us in his morning paper and also got it from the wireless. He agreed to get hold of Martin as soon as possible and ask him to contact the AP reporter at once, get him out to the village, and then call us.”

“Let's hope the reporter has word from Whitehall, so he can pass a bit of information to us at the same time,” I said. “By the way, where are Robert and Boris?”

“Cleaning fish,” Harris laughed. “Imagine my surprise, coming up and finding both of them fishing from the stern.”

“Fishing?” I exclaimed.

“Yes, fishing. They'd caught three or four,” said Harris.

“Three or four of what?” I asked.

“Looked like cod to me,” Harris answered. “We've enough food to feed an army, so I don't know why they need to be fishing.”

“Marvellous,” I said, taking another big yawn, “it'll probably reveal itself eventually.”

“Want more of this?” he said, extending the cup.

I held up my hand. “No thank you.” Then, thinking about the time and how we were travelling, I added, “I should think we need to turn and head north-west or else we'll soon be looking at the French coast.”

Harris took a long considering look at the clouds building astern, with swells being whipped white by the wind as the bow dipped deep into the water. This change came on quickly, as only moments ago, Harris was expressing elation about the sun.

“I'll have a word with Boris, who I must say seems to be able to run this ship by the seat of his pants, and see what his instincts are,” Harris replied.

Suddenly, we both pricked our ears at an unexpected sound. In the distance we could hear an aircraft, although we couldn't see it through the clouds, even with binoculars. It certainly seemed to both of us that there was no chance we'd been spotted, and when we saw Boris and Robert a few minutes later, they confirmed our thinking.

“I heard you two were up fishing this morning,” I ventured.

“Yes, we caught a few,” Robert said offhandedly.

“I hope you both understand that Katherine will expect you to clean and gut those yourselves, should you want them cooked,” I warned.

“Oh, that won't be necessary,” Robert assured me.

“Really? Are you planning on eating them raw?”

“Not exactly,” he hesitated. “I'll tell you more about that later. But,” he said, changing the subject, “this looks as if it's going to be rough going,” and indicated the sky and sea with a sweep of his arm.

“Yes,” I said, “it does looks like trouble and we really must be able to rely on the boys absolutely, even though we know they have almost no experience. All of us seniors are going to be needed as well, but first, all in all, I'm pretty sure we must get ourselves turned onto a new course.”

At that very moment, the sails started to flap as the ship's head fell. Looking over I saw that the wheel was held by Edward with no back-up. With a nudge to Robert, I ran to stand on the other side of the huge wheel. Robert darted in next to me.

Between gasps as we all strained to hold the ship on course, Edward said, “She seems to have a life of her own and it's bloody difficult to hold her. The worst is that she gets so loose at the top of the wave, with the rudder at least half out of the water, that she goes deep into the trough a few points off course.” She certainly was twisting, with unknown sheer forces beating against her length as she pulled out of each trough.

Suddenly Harris was there telling us we were relieved as he took over the wheel, telling Robert and me to go aloft to reef in the lower topgallants. Both watches were on duty and were already bringing in the royals. I was glad I wasn't up there with them. I didn't know what stamina I'd have left after tackling topgallants. I got a reprieve as Bowman appeared from below and called me in.

“Martin's calling,” said Bowman. “He's got the reporter man in tow. I think ye can handle any questions while getting what information we want from the reporter better than I could. Do as Harris has suggested and keep him on our side feeding him
world scoops
. Just keep using that expression.”

We sat down in front of the radio and I took up the handset. Even though the chairs were fixed and we could brace ourselves against the table, it was difficult to keep upright.

“Hi there, Martin,” I began. The handset joggled out of my hand when my arm swung against the table.

Martin immediately replied, “
Flynn, how are you? Is the weather forecast correct and are you in the middle of a storm, over.
”

“Not in the middle yet,” I replied, “but soon, unless we sink first. Before that, we'd like to talk to the reporter. Is he there?” The sound was surprisingly good when one considered what we had outside.

“
He should be here in about ten minutes. He's on his way from Gravesend in a taxi and I thought we should get our stories straight before he actually shows, if in fact there's any difference between them
.”

I said, “We have nothing to hide and want to get the truth known to as many as possible. What's this fellow's name? What did he sound like to you on the phone?”

“
His name's Richard Clark. He sounds pretty genuine to me. I phoned my friend who worked at
The Times
, and he said we can trust Richard absolutely. He's a veteran reporter who joined AP a while ago after a fight with his editor at
The Telegraph
. He was given the scuttling assignment as a test, or so my friend surmised. Richard is not only a good writer, but he has contacts in industry, sports, politics, and its civil service. My friend knows him personally and rang him up to vouch for me
.” Laughing, he carried on, “
I suppose I'll be the one to vouch for you bunch of cut-throats. How is Katherine taking to a life on the ocean waves?
”

“She's fine,” I answered. “How she manages I don't know, but she magically produces food for all of us. She and I are aaah…a pair, but with the time we have alone together, you'd think we were wallflowers, we're that shy.”

“
You know
,” Martin said seriously, “
I do worry about the two of you
.” He broke off, then said, “
Mr. Clark's just arrived, so I'll hand you over to him. Give my best to Katherine
.”

A new strong voice came over the speaker. “
Hello, Bonnie Clyde, this is Richard Clark, but please just call me Richard. Who's there
?”

“My name's Flynn. I was one of those aboard the tug. I've Captain Bowman with me. He's in command of the
Bonnie Clyde
. Harris, the big fellow, and Robert, the one with the dark hair, are outside steering and reducing sail and all that has to be done to counter a first-class storm, which is nearly upon us. If you hear crashing noises, that'll be from the gigantic seas all about.” I caught myself having injected a bit of drama. “I'd like to ask you a question.”

“
I don't envy you at all right now. I only hope I'll not be writing obituaries by the time this is done
.” He gave a laugh. “
How's that for a bit of tear-jerking? What's your question
?”

“I suppose you'd have to say we're at odds with the law, technically anyway, and there are rules about aiding such, and concealing such, and so on.” I enquired, “If we talk to you, and you publish the information, will the police take action against you if you don't reveal your source?”

“
That's an easy one
,” he replied. “
You have no worries about me, or yourselves. You're just like a suspect in a crime whom the police cannot find, who telephones a reporter or anyone to tell his story or confess or whatever, and yet refuses to disclose his location. A suspect is very often expected to be trying to evade arrest because he knows he's innocent and wants to get evidence to prove it, which he can't do in a prison cell. We, receiving such a call, cannot be guilty of anything unless we do really know where the person is
.”

“I was told you're a reporter, not a lawyer,” I said. “But that's the answer we'd hoped for. Now, another question is do you want an exclusive on the story and all the stories of each of us, which we're prepared to give you for publication, in exchange for any information you can give us on what
they
are doing and, maybe, plan to do? At the moment, we only want to hold back our destination until we've established a mutual trust, but we'll tell you everything else as matters progress. Now, in a sailing ship as old as this with a good head start and with weather such as we're getting now that will keep powered boats in harbour, we can continue on our way. So, if we can throw them off scent, trick them in some way, or just know their plans as soon as they know them, that will give us a bit of an advantage. Would you like the story on these terms and can you help us? Do you want an exclusive on the story in exchange for any information you can give us? We'll keep you informed, but we need to know their plans.”