The change Jeannie had brought into his life had been at first dramatic. In her company he found it easy to stifle the urge to drink and during their courtship and the early weeks of their marriage and even during her first two or three absences from home Jake steadfastly renounced his visits to the pub with the result that not only was his pain less constant but his whole body reacted with a renewed vitality that reminded him of his youth. When Jeannie’s visits to her parents became more frequent and more prolonged Jake, disillusioned as to her feelings for him and hating the emptiness of the house at weekends, relapsed into his former ways, beginning by drinking himself into a confusion of thought that he hoped he might mistake for happiness and culminating at closing time when he staggered home from the pub to drop on his bed in a stupor of intoxication through which the pain bored itself inexorably. In an effort to deaden the pain he conjured up the image of his wife’s pale face, framed as he liked best to recall it by long tresses of her fine hair and, as drowsiness teased him he saw that her face was floating on the sea and her hair had woven itself into a net – strong net – fishing net in which several replicas of her face were caught and, as the net was hauled in through the swirling water to break surface there were hundreds more replicas and the hundreds became thousands and were no longer faces but herring – the ‘silver darlings’: huge bursting netfulls of them pouring in a writhing, leaping, coruscating stream over the side of the boat and into the hold. Jake tried to clear his befuddled brain. If ever a fisherman needs to woo sleep he does not do so by counting sheep going through a gate but by counting herring: baskets and baskets of herring, cascading into the hold. How many? Again and again Jake tried to estimate but perversely, as always, sleep overtook him before he could calculate the worth of the catch in hard cash.
Chapter Eight
It was in the early hours of a Monday morning after just such a heavy weekend that Jake, grey-faced and bloodshot eyed, came down to the boat. The crew glanced at him with concern before turning to grimace at one another but they waited until they were gathered in the fo’c’sle and Jake was still in the wheelhouse before they commented on his appearance.
‘A drink’s a drink,’ burst out the youngest member of the crew indignantly. ‘But the skipper’s killin’ himself with it.’
‘It’s that wife of his who’s killin’ him if anybody is,’ supplied another. ‘She knows fine he goes on the batter whenever she’s away from him. But she won’t stay, not her.’
‘He’s too good to her, that’s what’s wrong,’ put in the cook.
‘It’s just not decent the way she leaves him,’ said the youngest member again. ‘If she was mine I’d take my belt to her.’
‘Island women!’ exclaimed another. ‘That’s them all over.’ The speaker was an east coast man and found the islanders utterly baffling.
‘It’s a bloody shame!’ the young man continued. ‘He’s a damn good skipper an’ I don’t like to see him made so little of by a woman.’ He frowned. ‘Particularly now he has the bairn,’ he added.
It was the oldest member of the crew who corrected him. ‘It’s herself has the bairn,’ he said quietly. ‘An’ I’m thinkin’ there’s little Jake will get to see of him now she’s got away with him.’
As he spoke there was an ominous clanking noise. The engine slowed, then ceased altogether. They rushed up on deck to see the skipper coming out of the wheelhouse.
‘Take the boat!’ he shouted at the man nearest to him. ‘That blasted engine’s done the dirty on us again.’ He ran quickly down to the engine room. The old man looked at the cook. ‘That’s it, then,’ he observed. ‘It seems as if our bad luck’s not done with us yet.’
After an hour or so of wrestling with the engine Jake managed to coax enough power for them to labour back into port where a worried looking engineer was waiting for them on the pier. Together he and Jake inspected the engine, while the crew waited gloomily wondering how long they were going to be delayed. The engineer came up on deck followed by a glowering Jake. ‘Not before midnight,’ he was saying as he wiped his hands on a bunch of cotton waste. ‘Not a hope.’ As one man the crew set off in the direction of the pub.
For Andy also the day had begun bleakly. Uncle Ben after much apologetic head shaking had warned him that his boss was insisting that the workshed where the Spuddy slept must be cleaned out and all the shavings and waste disposed of by the end of the week. There was to be no bed for the Spuddy at the boatyard any more and neither he nor his uncle could think of an alternative. Pottering miserably around the pier wrestling with the problem he was there to witness the unexpected return of the ‘Silver Crest’ and anxious to know the cause of it he ran down to watch her tying up.
Of all the boats coming in and going out of the harbour Andy thought the ‘Silver Crest’ the most beautiful in shape and the best cared for. Empty or loaded he thought she rode the sea as easily as the gulls or as serenely as the swans he used to see on the river near his home. At her mooring, if the sun happened to be shining, her varnished timbers looked golden against the oily green of the water.
She was the boat he most wanted if ever he could go to sea, to be allowed to sail in and yet despite his admiration and despite the fact that he was welcome aboard every other boat in the harbour Andy had never set foot aboard the ‘Silver Crest’. The reason was twofold. Firstly, due to the poor fishing season ‘Silver Crest’ had rarely been in harbour for more time than it took to unload and secondly Andy was afraid of skipper Jake and his rough voice. Ever since the day when he had been sitting on a fish box sketching the ‘Silver Crest’ on the back of a letter he had composed to his father and Jake had been angry with him Andy had kept his distance from the boat. On Jake’s behalf it must be said he was exasperated by the complete disappearance of his crew at a time when he himself could not leave the boat and in need of some information he had espied Andy. Ignorant of Andy’s affliction he had bellowed at him as he would have bellowed at any other boy who looked capable of delivering a message. Andy went to the edge of the pier.
‘Away an’ tell Bobby I’m wantin’ him down here!’ he commanded. ‘You know Bobbie? The little fellow with red hair.’
Andy nodded.
‘Aye, then get him for me. Quick as you can, boy.’
Gaymal children accepted that on the pier they were commanded to do things – never requested – and Andy ran to find Bobby but when the man saw it was the ‘Silver Crest’ Andy was pointing to he turned away. ‘I know fine what he wants me for,’ he told a crony, ‘and I’m not going. I’m supposed to be catching a train in half an hour and if Jake once gets a hold of me I might just as well wave it goodbye.’
Andy returned to the ‘Silver Crest’.
‘Well, did you find him?’ Jake asked.
Andy nodded.
‘Is he comin’, then?’
Andy shook his head.
‘Why isn’t he comin’?’
Andy stared at Jake helplessly.
‘What’s wrong with you, boy? Have I got to dig for every bit of an answer from you like I’d dig flesh from a limpet? What did he say?’ Jake was becoming more exacerbated. ‘Are you wantin’ a penny before you’ll tell me what he said? Is that it?’ Jake, used to the money conscious Gaymal children, dug into his pocket and tossed a shilling on to the pier. Andy looked at the coin but made no attempt to pick it up.
‘What in the hell’s the matter with you ?’ Jake demanded. ‘Is it deaf, daft or dumb you are?’ Andy turned and ran quickly from his contempt. Jake climbed on to the pier hoping to spot another likely messenger and the first two things he saw there were the shilling he had thrown and the sketch Andy had been making of the ‘Silver Crest’. Jake pocketed the shilling and picking up the paper studied the drawing. It was nice, he thought. Fancy a stupid kid like that being able to draw as well as this. He turned the paper over and saw Andy’s painstaking printing. ‘ “Dear Dad”,’ he read. ‘ “This is the boat I like best in the harbour. She is called ‘Silver Crest
’ and I think she is beautiful”.’ Jake wished he had not been so rough with the boy and going back aboard he placed the paper carefully between the leaves of a magazine in the wheelhouse thinking that next time he saw Andy he would return it to him and at the same time tell him how good it was.
It was three weeks later when one of the crew came across the drawing and commented on it.
‘Ach, I put it in there to give back to some kid that was on the pier doing it. I sent him to get Bobby for me that day you lot skinned off ashore. The kid came back without Bobby and with not a word as to why.’ Jake’s voice was scornful. ‘Proper little gaper he was, just standin’ there an’ sayin’ nothin’. I shouted at him he must be dumb or somethin’.’
‘Did he have a dog with him? The one that used to belong to Joe?’ asked one of the crew.
‘Aye, I believe he did,’ Jake admitted.
‘Aye, then right enough he is dumb,’ said the man and turned away from his skipper’s stricken face.
Later Jake learned from the crew the reason for Andy’s arrival in Gaymal; learned too how he and the Spuddy had chummed up together and how the boy looked after the dog even though he was not allowed to have him anywhere near the house. The story touched Jake and as he pondered it he resolved to try to make friends with the boy. To see if he could make some recompense for the hurt he had so unwittingly inflicted. Back in the wheelhouse he examined the drawing once more. ‘I’ll need to try an’ get a hold of the young fellow an’ give him back his picture,’ he told the man at the wheel. ‘But God knows when I’ll manage it seein’ he never comes near the boat since the day I turned on him.’
Chapter Nine
The opportunity came when they limped back into port with the seized engine and Andy, curiosity overcoming caution, was waiting on the edge of the pier anxious to find out what was wrong. When the crew had gone off to the pub and the engineer was about to leave Andy started to move away. Jake’s voice hailed him and Andy looked back to where the skipper was standing but he did not pause until he saw Jake was holding out a paper. Reluctantly he turned and went slowly up to him.
‘Did you do this?’ Jake asked as gently as he could and when Andy replied with a faint nod he said: ‘It’s good. I like it.’ He turned the paper over. ‘I read this too,’ he confessed. ‘Is it true you think this is the nicest boat in the harbour?’ Andy released a nervous smile. ‘Aye, I think so too, boy,’ Jake admitted, looking proudly along the length of the ‘Silver Crest’. ‘I think so too,’ he repeated, and Andy heard the pride in his voice. ‘Are you comin’ aboard?’ he invited. Andy’s expression was eloquent. ‘Come on, then, an’ take a look over her.’
Eagerly Andy clambered aboard followed by the Spuddy.
‘Hey!’ Jake objected. ‘I didn’t invite that dog as well. Away you go!’ The Spuddy looked questioningly at Andy before obeying the command. The next moment Andy was also ashore and standing beside the dog.
‘What’s all this?’ Jake asked. ‘I thought you were keen to see over her.’ Andy put his hand on the Spuddy’s head. ‘Okay, Okay,’ Jake yielded. ‘He may as well come too.’ Andy and the dog jumped back aboard and followed Jake enthusiastically into the wheelhouse, down into the hold, through to the engine room and finally into the fo’ c’sle where Jake put on the kettle.
‘You get mugs and rolls and butter and jam out of there,’ he instructed, pointing to a locker. ‘I daresay you won’t say no to a bite to eat.’ Andy did as he was told. He had never before eaten any sort of a meal aboard a boat and when Jake had made the tea and they sat on the lockers to eat and drink while the boat swayed to the tide Andy was blissfully happy. He had got over his fear of Jake and Jake was glad of having to entertain the boy and so shorten the hours he would otherwise have had to spend brooding over his misfortunes. All the same he was finding conversation solely by means of questions difficult to sustain and for much of the time they ate in silence. Jake noticed Andy giving the Spuddy a piece of every roll he took for himself and recalling what the crew had told him about the dog being a stray which Andy had befriended and which he was not allowed to take home to his aunt’s house he wondered how much the boy fretted at having to leave the Spuddy at night.
‘Does the Spuddy sleep in your room at home ?’ he probed.
Andy shook his head.
‘In the kitchen? No? In the house at all? No? In a kennel outside, then?’ Andy continued to shake his head. ‘Hasn’t he got a place to sleep then?’ Jake saw Andy’s eyes widen as if straining back the tears and he turned to fill the stove, making a clatter with the iron lid and the poker while wishing he hadn’t asked questions to which he already knew the answers. But his only desire was to help the boy if he could.
Andy covered his eyes, anguished by the reminder of his problem. He tried pressing his hands very hard into his eyes but the tears seeped through. Jake saw them and sitting down on the locker close to the boy spoke without looking directly at him.
‘I suppose you’d miss the Spuddy too much if I suggested he could be a sea dog?’ he said.
Mystified, Andy looked up.
‘Here on “Silver Crest”.’ Jake explained. ‘Why not? Lots of dogs go on boats,’ he went on. ‘An’ there’s folks say once a dog gets used to the sea he never wants to come ashore. Not to live, anyway.’
Andy listened half dismayed and only half believing that Jake was serious. His eyes questioned, why?
‘He’d have a good berth with me an’ the crew,’ Jake confided. ‘They’re not hard, the men, an’ there’s always plenty of gash food aboard. An’ there’d be a cosy bunk for him down here with us in the fo’ c’sle. But,’ Jake gave Andy a doubtful glance, ‘maybe you wouldn’t like to be parted from him so much.’
Andy stared steadfastly at Jake for some moments before beginning to nod slowly. There had been talk at Aunt Sarah’s about a new schoolmaster coming to Gaymal who was willing, even anxious to have Andy as a pupil and much as Andy yearned to go to school he was worried about what might happen to the Spuddy during school hours. Jake’s suggestion was perfect – or almost perfect. Andy’s heart plummeted as he thought how lonely, he would be without his friend. But if the Spuddy had a home, he reasoned, a real home where he would feel safe and wanted all the time, wasn’t that worth more than Andy could give him? Andy’s nodding became vigorous and swallowing hard he reached out, took Jake’s hand and placed it on the Spuddy’s head.
‘You’ll be able to see plenty of him at weekends,’ comforted Jake as Andy prepared to go ashore. As the Spuddy went to follow him Jake took hold of his collar. ‘An’ if your aunt and uncle have no objection you can come out with us whenever you get the chance,’ he promised. On the pier Andy’s arm lifted in a slow farewell and Jake, seeing his crumpled face, could think of nothing more comforting to say. He could only watch while Andy ran along the pier and up the road that led to his aunt’s house without stopping to look round.
On board the ‘Silver Crest’ Jake and the Spuddy went back to the fo’c’sle where Jake, telling himself that he was an impulsive fool, took the dog’s head in his two large hands and stared into the Spuddy’s brown eyes. The Spuddy returned the stare. ‘What do you think of me as your new skipper?’ Jake asked. The Spuddy’s tail swung ever so slightly. ‘Well, whatever you think you’re to see you don’t forget the youngster. I’ve no wish to pinch his best friend.’ The Spuddy’s tail waved more decisively. Jake stood up.
‘Come on then, I’d best let you see your quarters.’ There were eight bunks in the fo’c’sle of the ‘Silver Crest’ where the skipper and crew slept. Jake cleared out one of the two unused bunks and finding a couple of spare blankets threw them in. ‘That’s your bunk, mate,’ he told the dog. ‘An’ remember a man’s bunk is a man’s bunk – he swops with nobody and nobody swops with him. Try it for size now.’ He snapped his fingers and the Spuddy jumped in to investigate.
‘Right,’ Jake resumed, ‘there’s three things you have to learn aboard this boat an’ you’ll have to lea
rn them pretty quick because there’s not goin’ to be much spare time to teach you. Are you listenin’?’ The Spuddy pricked his ears and fixed Jake with an intelligent stare. ‘The first is,’ expounded Jake, ‘this is your home from now on. The second is, I’m your skipper from now on an’ it’s me you take your orders from, an’ the third is, this is your bed from now on.’ The Spuddy’s tail thumped once against the blankets and the expression in his eyes as he regarded Jake was one of perfect comprehension.
Chapter Ten
When the pubs closed the crew returned to the ‘Silver Crest’. ‘What’s he doin’ aboard?’ they asked, seeing the Spuddy.
The Spuddy Page 4