Angelique (47 page)

He also wants our decision immediately as he is about to raise full sail. The wheehouse door crashes open the bleary eyed Captain enquires angrily. “What’s going on? Why have you eased up? Why are we heading North? What are you doing so close to that ship?” Gunter explains the other ships offer to take us on board. The Captain thinks for a moment before replying. “It makes sense to me. It will certainly get you home more quickly to your families. You don’t have any papers or passports, which will be a problem when you come to land. There will certainly be a lengthy enquiry and a court case in Tangiers. You would have to remain as witnesses. Knowing the French legal system you could be there for months they have both been implicated in a capital offence on French soil. Then there will be the armies input, there will certainly be a court marshal for the two remaining rogues. If you were asking my opinion I would say go for it.” His advice instantly makes my mind up. Gunter agrees. The Captain takes command of the wheel. He orders Gunter to communicate with the ship using the megaphone as he doesn’t speak English. “Ask her Captain if he will allow me to bring my vessel close to her leeside enabling you to leap aboard. Otherwise it will mean lowering a boat in a choppy sea and I am shorthanded.” Good. God! I think to myself this idea sounds dodgy. I promise myself if I survive this madness this will be the last time I set foot on any type of vessel.

I will stick to much safer wheeled vehicles in future. The Captain of the ship instantly agrees advising he will rig a man sling. I have no idea what he is on about our Captain nods his approval. I leave my address with the Captain and Henri. We say our goodbyes shake hands with our good comrades and prepare ourselves for the risky transfer to the good ship Albatross. The Captain brings his vessel within two metres of the sailing ship.

The crew of the Albatross swing out a boom with a circular wooden platform anchored to about a six foot steel shaft attached to the winch wire. They lower the gear to the deck we are standing on. Gunter and I scramble onto the platform grip the shaft it lifts, swings across the racing water and we are landed aboard the Albatross. A wonderful piece of seamanship without the risk of the dreaded leap from vessel to vessel I was moments before fearing so much. The moment we are aboard and clear of the tackle things happen at speed. That gear is stowed away immediately, the boom is secured. Undecipherable orders are bellowed through a megaphone. Sailors spring into action. They race about hauling on ropes, climbing masts and rigging to dizzying heights as agile as monkeys. Sails billow out with a snapping sound as they are unfurled by sailors perched on nothing but a slender piece of rope. She takes an alarming list as the sails capture the wind. I am terrified whereas Gunter appears to be enjoying the experience immensely. He stands bracing himself against the list gripping a piece of the rigging a look of supreme joy on his face.

He smiles at me exclaiming. “Isn’t this wonderful?” I always suspected he has a mad streak in his nature since he cut the engine on my first flight with him. Like a greyhound of the seas the Albatross heads for her home port at a fair speed under full sail. We have barely time to wave goodbye when the vessel we have recently left disappears astern.

After the intense activity around the ship ceases a young boy approaches us he touches his forelock and says. “Captain requests your presence in the grand cabin gentlemen, follow me if you please.” He guides us towards the stern, down a companionway along a wooden panelled corridor where we enter the most beautiful cabin. The Captain a large bearded individual is seated behind an ornate mahogany desk writing in a book. The boy leaves closing the door behind him. The Captain waves us to a couple of chairs and continues writing. The scratch of the pen ceases he carefully places the pen in a holder blots the page closes the book looks us over before addressing us. “Gentlemen we need to discuss finance. Your passage to Hull will cost you fifteen guineas each. I am concerned looking at your appearance, are you able to afford it?”

He kind of grimaces then informs us. “My friends simply because if you can’t pay your way, you will have to work your passage.” Gunter responds with a smile. “Don’t let our appearances deceive you Captain. We are well able to afford the fifteen guineas. Unfortunately we have been robbed of all our cash and valuables. But I will give you an IOU to cover any cost incurred.”

The Captain replies. “You never mentioned this fact when you requested passage” The Captain stands and orders us with a sigh. “I thought it was too good to be true, an extra few guineas to make a happier Christmas for my family. This has not been a very successful voyage. I have lost a great deal of time due to the unseasonal weather I have encountered. I was hoping to make it home for Christmas to spend it with my family for the first time in about five years I doubt if I will make it now. Make your way to the forecastle. The bosun will set you to work. I can’t operate on promises. I have shareholders to satisfy and a family to feed.”

I intercede. “Captain please forgive me, but I can assure you we are entirely trustworthy. Our appearance is due to the fact we were rescued from the channel by the craft we have just left.

It’s a long story and I won’t bore you with the details. My name is Adam Bailey my companion is Gunter Cogan an international lawyer. I am the part owner of the OSCADA shipping company.”‘

The Captain looks dubious before questioning. “If this is true, you will know a Captain Bill Hawkins?” I reply. “Of course we both do. He is the marine head of the company.”

I add to convince him further. “Bill previously had his own ship Portia before joining OSCADA.” The Captain comes around the table shakes our hands apologises for doubting us and introduces himself as Jack Christiansen, and immediately invites us to have a drink with him he explains his change of attitude with a touch of nostalgia.

“Bill Hawkins and I served as apprentices aboard the Albatross when my Father was in command.” He takes a photograph out of the drawer and shows us the picture of the ships company assembled in front of the bell. A young boy is holding a lifebelt with the name Albatross. Hull. He points out a younger version of himself and Bill serious faced in cadets in uniform whilst he continues to reminisce. “I last met Bill about a year ago. We were in the docks in Birkenhead discharging grain at the East Float mills. His ship Portia was moored astern of Albatross. We had a few pints together in the Stump, a pub by the docks.”

He suddenly adds. “There will be no charge for your passage gentlemen. I have to attend to my duties now. We will be entering the English Channel shortly, a dangerous area for a sailing ship. I need to be on alert. Of course you will be my guests for dinner tonight. I will see you then we can talk some more. You may remain in here if you choose or there are a few empty passenger cabins along the alleyway if you need to use them. In the meanwhile, see the steward or the Peggy if you require anything.”

I make a request. “Before you leave Captain, do you have any means of contacting England we would dearly like to let our families know we are safe and sound and on our way home?”

He shakes his head and breaks the disappointing news. “I’m very sorry we don’t have a radio on board. The best I am able to offer is when we pass the coast guard station at Dover. If the weather is clear I will be able to make contact.” He leaves us in his cabin enjoying another drink and a welcome cigar.

A knock on the door announces the return of the lad that showed us into the Captain’s cabin earlier. I presume this is the Peggy the Captain referred to. The lad looks about thirteen dressed smartly enough but in clothes too large for his somewhat scrawny body. Atop his flaming mop of red hair is a Royal Navy sailor’s hat with the name Albatross marked onto the hat band.

An unsuccessful attempt to obliterate the usual HMS preceded the name. He enquires.

“Captains compliment’s Gentlemen but do you require breakfast?” Before giving him an answer I enquire. “What’s your name Lad?” He straightens his shoulders stands to attention and replies in a military manner. “My name is Anthony Russell Sir, but everyone on board just calls me Boy.”

“Which do you prefer Anthony?” I ask. He thinks for a moment whilst rubbing his chin before answering thoughtfully. “Me own Mum calls me, Our Anthony, or her Wee Little Man, but she is a great soppy. Me mates on shore calls me Tony.” He adds proudly. “But the Skipper calls me Boy and I reckon if that’s what Captain Christiansen calls me then Boy it is, while I am aboard this ere ship.”

God knows how long it’s been since we had a decent meal. At the mention of food my stomach gurgles. I smile and make a request. “I could certainly do with something to eat Boy, what would you recommend?” He advises knowingly. “Well breakfast is finished for the crew but Cookie will knock you something up. My own very favourite is a big egg butty with a great dollop of Cookies own special brown sauce on.” He licks his lips to emphasise his love of this his favourite breakfast. He continues to explain. “We have our own hens aboard and they are laying well. I look’s after them myself. We had two pigs as well when we set sail but we has ate them now.” Now the lad has started talking there is no stopping him. He adds proudly.

“Cookie bakes his own bread fresh every day.

I have heard the crew saying this is the best eater they have ever sailed in. Some of them have been in this ship for years and years. Our ship came right through the bloomin war without a scratch. I reckon she’s a lucky ship. It’s because of the good food and our great Captain that keeps em signing on. When I got me a berth on the old Albatross one of my Dad’ old shipmates said I was damned lucky. He reckons you need a letter from God to get a berth on Albatross.” He adds hurriedly as if imparting a secret.

“I didn’t have a letter from God you understand? My Dad did his last trip in Albatross as second mate with Captain Christeansen’s own Dad when he was in command.” I ask him.

“What does your Dad think of you sailing in his old ship then Boy?” He replies hesitantly.

“I don’t know Sir. I was only a young kid when I last saw him. I think he would have liked it though. You see he died aboard Albatross of the fever and was buried at sea in the Indian Ocean. I haven’t been there myself yet, but when I do I will remember my Dad when we pass the place where they tipped him overboard and say a little prayer for my Mum.” After a pause he adds proudly. “I have seen his name in one of the old log books, the Captain showed me.”

The lad’s revelation’s brings a lump to my throat. He goes silent for a moment then it is back to business for him. “Right Sir, a special egg butty for you.” He addresses Gunter. “And you Sir what is your pleasure?”

Gunter has been witnessing the conversation between me and the boy without comment. With a smile on his face he requests. “May I also order the egg butty Tony, but without the brown sauce please?”

“Right Sirs if you make your way to the saloon up the alleyway your breakfast will be served by ex Petty Officer Royal Navy Mr Earl the Chief Steward. He’s a stickler for good manners, cleaning and things but he has taught me a lot.” He further discloses confidentially in a half whisper while keeping an eye on the open door. “Although he looks fierce he is good hearted underneath when you get to know him better.” Boy imparts further details of his life aboard the ship. “I spend half the day with him learning about cooking, cleaning looking after passengers if we have any. I spend the other half with Mr Johansson learning about being a sailor.

He is the Norwegian Bosun. He used to be a harpooner on the whaling ships before he signed on the old Albatross.” The lad detects a noise in the alleyway and immediately switches back to his normal voice. “I reckon your food will be ready in about ten minutes. Will you have tea or coffee with your breakfast Sir’s?” We both opt for coffee. When he leaves the cabin Gunter says. “Wow! That kid can sure talk but he appears to be a good lad, I hope he does well in his chosen life.” I reply with a laugh. “I enjoyed every minute of our conversation. You learn something every day from the most unusual sources. I now know what a Peggy is and what he does onboard a ship.”

We enjoy our special breakfast butties, some excellent coffee served by the very smartly turned out but not so fearsome Mr Earl. Shortly afterwards I retire to one of the cabins for a much needed sleep. For a while I lay there my mind pouring over the last few days and realising how lucky we are to survive the crash into the channel, and to be freed from the villains and I am heading home to my beloved family. My Guardian Angel has certainly protected me yet again. Believing I would never get to sleep because my mind is in a whirl. The slap of waves against the hull and unusual angle of the ship is not helping. I decide to give up attempting to sleep and find something else to pass the time. Closing my eyes I have one last attempt to sleep. The next thing I am aware of is I am waking much refreshed. The many oil lamps in the accommodation had been lit without disturbing me. Finding the washroom I nearly freeze to death having a cold salt water shower, but I have to admit it does invigorate me.

There is no sign of Gunter when I check the other cabins.

The only person I am able to locate is the cook working in the steam filled galley preparing the evening meal. I do not disturb his endeavours. Climbing the companionway leading onto the boat deck I find it is already dark. However a splendid full moon illuminates the sea. The ship is still racing along under full sail, now and again a wave slops over the rail. In the half light I make out a couple of figures by the wheel. Gripping anything handy to steady myself I make my way nervously towards them. To my surprise when I am able to recognise them the man at the wheel clad in an oilskin and southwester is none other than Gunter. The other man is the Captain. Taking his pipe out of his mouth he warmly greets me. In the reflection from the binnacle light I detect the gleam of Gunter’s teeth his face is split by a wide grin he is evidently in his element.