A Ship's Tale (43 page)

“So who won?” I asked. He didn't reply to this, and merely gave me the course, which I saw would leave us in the best position the next day when the storm died down. As I set the new course, I hoped that we'd not been spotted from land as we very quickly lost sight of the light. The remainder of my watch was a blur of unrelenting effort, as Boris and I fought to hold the course and to maximise the power we could get from the wind. It seemed an eternity until at last my time was up. After handing the helm over to Harris and one of the bigger boys—Tom, I think it was—I staggered back into the chart room and collapsed in the chair in front of the radio.

“Ha ha ha,” Edward cackled, “how does it feel to be an old man, just like me?” Now that was a thought. Edward couldn't be much over sixty and with me near thirty, we really were both old men on this ship full of boys nineteen years and younger.

I gave a feeble growl. “That's enough of the old Methuselah. You just get in line for a couple of hours at the wheel in this weather and let's see who's calling who old!” I was too exhausted for further banter, and devoted my remaining mental energy to what Harris had said about our possible position tomorrow afternoon. “Edward, how soon do you think before we reach Dumbarton?”

He thought a moment, then said that if we could get good winds after the storm, and no other delaying factors were involved, it might take us as little as four or five days.

Edward continued, “If we're south of Plymouth by tomorrow and the storm starts to die, then we must keep on southerly to make sure to avoid the hazards off Lizard Point. Rounding Land's End and travelling north through St. George's Channel and the Irish Sea will be very testing. The winds and the current are always contrary. Once swallowed most of the Spanish Armada, they did.” He went back to his charts and calculations. He couldn't keep out of the storm, but he'd do all any mariner could to steer our ship out of harm's way.

Boris now came in and, seeing me relaxing, said, “Enough rest. Come, work to do.”

“Did I mention that I was completely knackered?” I protested, but I knew there was no arguing with the brute.

I followed him down to the main hold and helped move a number of straw bales for the bear. I'd never spent time around wild animals. I knew a bear only from its reputation, and for me that was near enough.

Boris and I then took on the task of bringing boxes of tinned goods aft to the galley. The boxes were heavy, perhaps because my arms had not yet recovered from their previous tasks. Katherine was busy with the evening meal and had time only for a hasty hello-and-thank you.

Finding that Boris had vanished without telling me whether he wanted me for anything else, I came back up on deck to find young Larry alone at the wheel. As I leaped to put myself next him, I shouted, “What the hell is Harris playing at, leaving you on your own with these seas?” But Larry was quite enjoying himself.

“This is the first time I've had her on my own, Mr. Flynn. It's a lot harder than I expected, but I love it.”

“Do you need a relief? It's almost meal time,” I asked.

“No sir, actually I'd like a bit more of this,” he said. “I don't know when I'll get the chance to go solo again, and I'd be happy to put more time in.”

“Okay, but I'm sending your relief in twenty minutes. I can guarantee you'll have other opportunities at the helm.” I stood there for a few more minutes, smiling at his enthusiasm. He seemed to know how the ship would react, but it was heavy work. I couldn't understand why Harris had gone off and left him on his own.

As I watched, Harris returned from wherever he'd been and resumed his place by helmsman Larry. My questioning look was obvious, and without waiting, he said shortly, “I'll tell you later.” At that I shrugged and turned away.

I was pretty sure I knew where Boris was. Sure enough, I found him tending to the bear. He had got over his seasickness, and with no fish in sight, had to make do with some mess made up by Boris. I helped clean up around the hold—not a pleasant job in a confined space. I found Boris good company because his answers and comments were always so to-the-point. I had a sneaking suspicion that he understood more English than he admitted. I decided to test this, mainly because I wanted to be better friends with him. This was difficult while he hid behind a pretend language barrier.

“Boris, you understand more English than you let on. I think you understand everything I say, but for some reason you pretend not to quite often. Why is that?”

Boris looked at me appraisingly. I suspect that he'd already decided about me some time ago. “Sometimes it is good to have someone explain something when you already understand. Sometimes there are big differences in opinion. I tell you this because I think I can trust you. There are not many people for me to be entirely open.”

“But what about Bowman, Harris, and Edward? You've known them for years. Are you trying to tell me you don't trust them knowing how well you can speak and understand English?” I asked.

He smiled. “You see how many fights I never see or get involved in? If Boris doesn't understand, nobody notices the ignorant foreigner. You have seen this?”

“Aren't you the sly old fox,” I said, “but is that such a good reason for not understanding?”

He continued to smile placidly. “Understanding English and speaking it are two very different things. But you never heard me say this, yes?”

“Actually it's too windy to hear anything,” I said, extending my hand. We shook hands, our understanding quite clear.

“Thank you very good.” he said, reverting to his customary primitive speech, and then off he went in his usual abrupt way. For my part I took a lesson from this, always shooting off my mouth when things are just as easily accomplished without yelling. Maybe I should have pretended I understood less sometimes, but I could never work it as well. Oh yes, his secret was very safe with me.

I could sympathize with Boris, for communication was hard when one was even a little foreign. Since my father was American some of the terminology was quite different, and I was forced to endure much teasing from other boys regarding my use of the King's English. It seemed beneath them to even use my name, and they would refer to me only as that south-witted lad. I naturally found this discouraging, and often extremely embarrassing.

I recall a girl I was seeing while attending the university. I met her at my job while working part-time to help pay for my education, and she invited me to her family's house for tea. This was a nice opportunity to chat with her family about all the latest things going on about the campus and the world of politics. “So you met Vera at your job, I understand,” her father happened to ask, “and how's the screw?”

I became speechless at this, supposing it to be an enquiry into our non-existent sex life. I was astonished that he could be so casual about his daughter's virtue. My face turned several shades of crimson before my girl whispered that he was simply asking how much money I made at my job. The lads at the university were not as forthcoming with explanations. Their heartless chaff often led to fisticuffs, at which I was soon forced to become very adept, an expert in fact.

The present-day Flynn realised that he'd never got lunch, so I went to see if I could beg anything from Katherine. I found the galley a bit tense, with Katherine looking unsmiling and rather testy herself. Just up the passage Harris, Bowman, and Edward were arguing outside Bowman's door, so I assumed everything was normal. I was about to join them, but Katherine held me back.

“You may be interested in this particular problem,” she whispered, pulling me closer. “Let me explain. Somehow I feel partly responsible.”

“What exactly is the problem?” I asked.

“Just before dinner I was getting everything ready for the boys, who are always here on the dot, ravenous. Among the things set out was a tray of beer and ale, part of what Martin donated.” She looked chagrined, and sighed.

“And the problem?” I prompted.

“Those three,” she nodded her head in their direction, “had a fit over young boys drinking.”

“Surely, you're not serious?” I cried.

“No, it's absolutely true,” she replied, “and now the boys have to wait for their dinner while this matter is being resolved.”

It was difficult to believe that I was listening to such rubbish, but I was already working out a solution.

Very soon everyone had come in, crowding into the galley and down the passage, which left very few to run the ship. Bowman, Harris, and Edward had retreated into Bowman's cabin. I'd hoped that Boris and Robert would be on deck steering and keeping a watch on the sails, but I saw Boris among the crew standing there.

A very flushed Bowman came out of his cabin and said, “No one is to come in here until we have this business settled.”

Someone had to stop this nonsense, so I spoke up. “Yes, and I intend to settle it for you without any further argument from anyone!” I announced. Bowman stared at me. Harris now emerged from the cabin with that dangerous too sweet expression.

“You're going to do what?” he asked gently.

“Until I'm finished, I'd like you gentlemen not to interrupt,” I declared. “Everyone here knows the story of how Bowman went to sea at the age of thirteen, and Harris not much older. In those days, boys became men early. When they went to sea, much was demanded of them and an astonishing bunch they were. They're definitely a vanishing breed of seaman, and we can only hope to learn what they know. I'm sure they've forgotten more than any of us will ever learn. However, they forgot one important thing: how do you measure manhood? Some of the ways you know, such as going aloft in a heavy storm to haul in wet canvas in pouring rain with the ship rocking beneath you, praying you don't get exhausted in the efforts and fall.”

I continued, “Each man went through similar trials every day, and for that they were rewarded, as most seamen of their day, with a measure of grog or a pint of ale. The ale was there because good drinking water was only available on ships at the beginning of a voyage, and only when it rained thereafter, but a drink of plain water didn't seem much reward to men who risked their lives daily.

“Now then, Captain,” I asked, “don't you believe these boys have become men since we've been through all of this together?”

Bowman looked around at the company, seeing all eyes upon him. For a moment, he was completely silent. I folded my arms and stood in an attitude of respectful expectation, noticing Edward peering out from the cabin door.

The captain bent a long look upon me, and nodded. “Indeed. I've worked many men, and I suppose I can concede that those who work as crew deserve respect as men.” He eyed me quizzically, wondering what was to happen next. Now it was time to play my ace. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the flask I'd acquired from Harris earlier without his knowledge.

“Oh, by the way Harris, you carelessly left this on deck. I believe these are your initials.” And with that I threw the flask to him in view of all. At first he looked at it in disbelief and quickly checked the pockets of his watch coat.

Harris held up the flask and shook it, his gaze narrowing at its near-empty state. “You've a strange way of making your point,” he muttered in half-amused tones.

I then looked at Boris, who returned my glance blandly. “So Boris, do you think these boys should be treated as men?”

At first he pretended he didn't understand, and I put on my most patient expression, prepared to wait him out.

Boris eyed Harris and Bowman and folded his arms, “Yes, everybody man!” He turned to face Katherine, “Everybody— of course not you,” he added in an apologetic manner.

I looked about ready to challenge. “Anyone who's seen these boys in the last few days knows they've become men. Right now they're all men, waiting for their dinners. There's a tray here with various beers and ales from which to choose, but drink wisely.” I started to open the bottles, making sure I handed one to Bowman first. Edward now came forward and made sure of a bottle for himself, still looking undecided about the matter.

“Here we are with the ship tossing about like a cork, not knowing when a sail is going to blow out. These boys are hungry for food and drink, and you're going on like three old women at a temperance meeting. Where's your sense of proportion?” I left them to think it over while I went to get my own food and a beer.

Katherine whispered, “That was brilliant—you should have seen the look on their faces!” I smiled and said, “They've been getting at you and making you unhappy with their nonsense, after all.”

The boys now tentatively approached the bottles, with many a glance to Bowman and Harris. Larry and Todd each claimed a beer, but didn't try so much as a sip at first. The other boys watched them closely, to be sure of any consequences. I could see the Great Grog Affair would take some time to settle fully.

“Flynn? May I have a word with you?” Harris asked.

“Yes, you may, after I've eaten.” I said.

“
Now
!” Harris demanded. He was definitely not in the best of moods. I felt the growing presence of uneasy tension—and it had my name on it.

“How did you come into possession of my flask?” he grated.

“That is your flask, is it not?” I responded, injured virtue writ large upon my face.

Harris looked down, “Yes, of course it is.”

“You shouldn't be so careless as to leave it lying about. What would the men think?” I turned away, ignoring his low growl.

With this delicate matter out of the way, I took my seat with the crew in the wardroom. It seems I'd made many friends that evening, for several more lads were very self-consciously enjoying a nice bit of beer or ale. I wondered what Bowman was thinking, as he and Edward sat silently eating their dinner. It's been said that no good deed goes unpunished. I feared that the consequences of my act would be revealed soon enough.