Authors: N. Jay Young
“Well, Missus, I wonder where we'll be hanging our hats tonight,” I said, giving her a squeeze. She just smiled and began packing a large wicker basket of food to take along with us.
More small boats had emerged from both sides of the river and were all around us waving and cheering. I began to realize we had achieved real celebrity status. In the distance we could hear bells ringing in the churches, but that surely couldn't be for us.
I found myself standing next to Robert. “Did you ever think we'd make it?” he asked.
“Absolutely. Never any doubt,” I answered with a grin. “You were aboard to see to it as well,” and I let him know the relief I felt with a wink.
Robert was the kind of friend who pops up only intermittently during one's life, and when he does appear, takes up exactly from where he left off. Still, I asked, “How will I find you again once we're in port and everyone splits up?”
“Not to worry,” he assured me, “like a bad penny, I'll turn up when you least expect me. Anyway, I'll have more incentive now. You'll have such good food.”
I felt sure that the MTB was not going to try anything crazy. I fancied I could read the captain's mind well enough to know that he was just going through the motions. His last manoeuvre swinging round the flotilla was only window dressing for his bosses in Whitehall. He'd been lagging behind, and as more small boats joined in the procession, had been squeezed farther back and was effectively marooned.
The boats spread out, allowing us passage through the crowded waters. As we passed through, the fleet closed in behind us and the MTB took herself out of line and headed for a dock with a large fuel pump. She'd run out of fuel, later than I'd predicted, but out nonetheless!
We could now see the dock ahead, with its arched Victorian wrought iron entrance, spelling out the name of the builder: ROBERTSON'S. People were everywhere, waving. Boat whistles were going off, and coming from within the boat builder's yard, I could hear the sound of bagpipes. Our reception was becoming quite out-of-this-world! The boys mounted the riggings and were waving in every direction, while we seniors were standing on the bridge deck and joining in. I couldn't see Bowman, but I knew he wouldn't want to miss this. I thought this may have been his finest hour, having defeated all the odds against him to succeed.
Boris had fashioned a collar and lead from rope for Brown Bear and now put it over his head. The bear sensing the excitement became very spry and stood up, much to the delight of the children in the crowd.
Boris now called the boys into position at the forepeak for taking in the hawsers, while those aloft furrowed the remaining sail. Harris turned the ship in towards the yard. First one tug, then the other, slowed and cast off the tow. We'd just enough way for us to slide gently alongside the dock inside the yard. Throwing loops over the bollards, the dockside crew brought the ship to a gentle stop.
The voyage was over.
On the quay I could see a welcoming group that included the Mayor, judging from the heavy gold chain one distinguished-looking gentleman wore round his shoulders. Next to him was a tall grey-haired man in full kilt and velvet jacket, who I assumed must be Mr. Reith, and various other prominent men and their ladies stood by deferentially.
Off a little to one side was a figure in a raincoat and battered trilby, which had in the hatband a piece of white card. Written on it, in letters we could read from the bridge deck were the words PRESS RICHARD AP. I suppose he wasn't quite sure we'd seen him earlier, but he certainly didn't want us to miss him in the crowd of people. I couldn't resist making a funnel with my hands and shouting as loudly as I could: “Hurrah for AP!” at which he flourished his hat and made a low bow. We all laughed and cheered.
More ominously, however, behind the first group was another, consisting mainly of Scottish policemen in their distinctive caps with black and white chequered band, one or two of whom also had one or more silver stars on their shoulders. Included in the group were three men dressed in dark grey suits and carrying neatly furled umbrellas. I also noticed other strapping fellows laden with what looked very like different kinds of weapons, including at least five in traditional tartan kilts with broadswords or claymores on their shoulders among a group standing farther back behind a restraining rope, and there was considerable open ground between the Suits and the Kilts. The tension between the two rival factions was evident, some connected to the British government intent on boarding the ship, the others, who were among our supporters, were doubtless there determined to stop them.
While the gangway was being brought up and fixed in place, I told Robert that he'd better get the boys ready and wait for Harris's signal to move down onto the quay.
I then said to Harris, “If these boys are going to have a chance of getting away, we need a diversion. What about Boris going down first, leading the bear. This would attract the children and their parents. Once he has two or three families over the rope, you, Edward, and Bowman can go down and do an official sort of speech and hand-over. By that time I should be able to get the boys off and into the crowd without too much notice.”
“Right,” Harris said. “Let me first have a word with Boris. You and Robert stand by to come down with the boys and act as interference if you see anything suspicious.”
Boris secured a chain to Brown Bear as a long leash and began to proceed down the gangway. It was funny to watch as the railings bulged out to accommodate the width of this huge animal. Amidst many oohs and aahs from the crowd, Boris and the bear got down to the quay. Brown Bear gazed at the crowd gathered before him, and perhaps his mind must have gone back to happier days of performing and entertaining audiences throughout his life. With a happy groan, he rose onto his hind feet and began slowly to turn as he'd once done for circus crowds when he was a young dancing bear.
Boris laughed, as Brown Bear came down onto all fours, and started down the dock with the bear at his side, waving to the people looking on quizzically, but delighted at the novelty. The police on each side had broken ranks and fled to the end of the dock, remaining there in complete disorganisation and chaos as Russian and bear promenaded past them into the middle of the main yard. As they headed towards the open street, Boris asked for directions to the zoo. With such a very large bear at his side, there weren't many who approached Boris; however, that didn't keep him from being his most jovial as he walked down the middle of the pier waving to the crowd, with all eyes following their passage. I trailed them at a distance to observe developments.
Stopping at a group of onlookers, the bear stood up again and successfully turned round to applause and cheers from many, while others picked up their children and disappeared in terror or perhaps simply disbelief. Boris finally found someone who was pleased to lead them to the zoo. The three of them proceeded down the dock and into the street. Passing one of the local pubs, I could see everyone inside now lining the pavement to watch the spectacle.
One man, completely sotted, blinked at the unlikely sight. “By God, that's the biggest damn dog I've ever seen,” he slurred. Another man let the pint glass slip through his fingers and break on the pavement below without changing his fixed expression.
It was an ideal time and Robert started the boys down the gangway, where they quickly entered the crowd. I saw them being approached by nice people, who then led them away. It was a relief to know that they were out of reach of the
law
, at least for now.
What we didn't know until a very few minutes later was that one boy was still on board. This was Larry. He came up from belowâwhite-faced, with tears pouring down his face, and took hold of Harris's arm. My heart sank. Harris motioned me to follow.
We quickly came to the bottom of the companionway and the passage leading to Bowman's cabin, where I became aware of a strange silence. No more crew, no busy discussions, no songs, only an ominous quiet broken by sobs coming from Bowman's cabin. The sounds from outside came through as though from a great distance and the air was still. We stopped at the door of the cabin which stood open and slowly entered.
There on his bunk lay Bowman, just as he did when occasionally resting during the day. His arm hung off the side, resting on a chair by the bunk. Harris rushed past everyone inside and went over to attend his long-time friend. When he took Bowman's hand it was plain that our captain was gone. Harris slumped, still holding the gnarled, lifeless hand. He slowly removed his cap and set it down. Silence settled over our company like a chill that had suddenly frozen everyone as still as statues at the realization that Bowman had died. Edward's sobs were the only thing audible in the stillness, while outside, jubilant onlookers cheered the arrival of the ship and the celebration continued.
I opened my mouth to say something, but no words came. I felt as if I should leave these three friends together, but I also felt a deep sense of loss, and a sudden feeling that all our effort had been for nothing crept over me.
I felt a soft hand take mine. It was Katherine, whose tears reflected my own. No one said anything for what seemed like hours, but only minutes had passed before Edward spoke, his voice quiet and shaking.
“You know,” Edward said to Harris, “one thing he never told you was that he often repeated the story of you and that chap from the government office in London. You remember the other one you dropped over the side? He thought that the funniest thing he'd ever seen, but he could never tell you that.” They were still kneeling by the bunk and Edward continued, “He did really care for you, you know, but you did sometimes try his patience. I suppose I did as well on occasion.” Edward was silent for a bit more and then he said quietly, “This time, you know, he did itâas much as I doubted him, he came through again. We all made it here all safely. He said they'd never catch him. He never let me down on a promise,” Edward concluded, choking back his tears.
Harris sat down in the chair and gently placed Bowman's hand upon the still breast. He looked slowly about the cabin, when his gaze suddenly fixed on Bowman's desk. He stood up, staring. This made Katherine and me look as well.
We all gasped.
There among the charts and books was a mug of tea with the steam still rising from it.
Harris said slowly, “About fifteen minutes ago, one of the boys said that Bowman had come out of his cabin and asked if he'd seen the boy in the white jacket. The boy told me that Bowman had said, âHe brought me my tea and told me it was nearly time.' The boy said Bowman hadn't seemed alarmed but that he was very quiet.”
Harris went over and touched the mug to satisfy his curiosity about it still being hot. For a moment he stood in thought, and then turned to Katherine.
“Who brought Uncle Billy this mug of tea?”
Katherine looked surprised. “I don't know. When we were in the galley everyone knew I didn't light the stove today.”
I reached over and touched the small pot-bellied coal stove that was in Bowman's cabin, but it too was cold to the touch. We all looked at one another and at the steaming cup. Some things defy explanation, and from that time, none of us has ever mentioned it again. Perhaps there was something unworldly about this boy in the white jacket, or perhaps Bowman was imagining things as they
were
when he first went to sea. I suppose we'll never know.
A few moments later we heard the sound of several people coming down the companionway. A voice called, “Coming through!” Another voice said, “Stand aside!”
Then another voice in a softened tone asked, “May I come in? My name is Commander Wright, Royal Navy, and I've been sent to speak privately with you.”
I went to the door, where I met a man in his mid-forties, in uniform. This was a man with authority and what he said, people listened to, and when he ordered, they obeyed. I could tell when I looked at his service ribbons. I'd met several officers like him during the War. Their ships were happy ships, because the men had absolute faith in the officer's ability to bring them through any action. I asked him to step inside and as he came in he turned to tell his lieutenant to wait outside, then he closed the door after him.
Taking note of the solemn faces Commander Wright said, “I'd like to see your captain.” We had all instinctively moved in front of the bunk when we heard a strange voice, but now we stepped aside. The commander immediately removed his cap and fell silent. After a moment of studying each of our faces, he asked if he could pay his respects. Harris agreed, and he stood by the bunk with head bowed for a few minutes. He straightened up and Harris asked him to take the chair in front of the captain's desk. Harris pulled a blanket from the foot of the bunk and covered over Bowman, then drew the curtain that separated the sleeping and washing area from the rest of the cabin.
Harris now came to stand behind the desk and faced the commander. “Harris, First Mate,” he identified himself like a prisoner of war might. “I'm in command now, and responsible for anything we may be held accountable for.”
The commander had a look of admiration and respect on his face as he looked at Harris.
“I'm extremely sorry for your loss,” he said. “I was looking forward to meeting Captain Bowman. I was also looking forward to meeting you, Mr. Harris. Both you and the captain had reputations for independent thought when you were in the Navy during the War, but our paths never crossed. It's a pity because, in my own small way, I'm as unorthodox as both of you, and I suppose we would have made a good team.
“Now, let me tell you the purpose of my visit. I am the personal envoy to the Prime Minister. He is not so stupid as some members of his party, or some civil servants. He has asked me, firstly, to apologise to you for the attitude of the Admiralty when you first suggested saving the
Bonnie
Clyde
and for their persistent refusals to listen. The Prime Minister is primarily a statesman, and the uproar you succeeded in raising these past ten days or so isn't something the government would long tolerate. You must know that you've nothing to bargain with,” he finished.