by Mike Crowson
Chapter 3
While Steve waited by the Landrover, the ferry came alongside with practised ease. Frank thought, watching, that the sailor standing in the bows of the ferry with the mooring rope looked a rather seedy young man. He was scruffy with a greasy face in need of a shave and hair that was too long and needed a wash. Even his dark blue sweater had seen better days. However, Frank could not fault his skill as he dropped the rope over the mooring bollard and walked to the stern while his 'boss', the only other sailor aboard, used the engines and the wheel to get the back end alongside.
As the scruffy looking individual dropped another rope over another bollard, the other killed the engines and Frank, seizing his hold-all and backpack, sprang ashore. He was followed more cautiously by Alan who, while finding it straightforward, still looked askance at the water slopping over the step. He was followed by four other youths who had a great deal of baggage with them - rucksacks and tents and so forth - which they fussed about unloading. By the time they reached the top of the steps Frank had introduced himself to Steve.
"This is Alan," he said, "and here are four members of the Orkney Archaeological Society who are coming as volunteers to help with the dig. I don't know much about them, but they're wanting a ride to the site for themselves and their gear. I said it would be okay."
"Well I suppose I can squeeze them in," said Steve, eyeing the gear, "but it will be a squeeze and there's a lot of stuff to pick up from this ferry already."
The scruffy looking sailor was busy unloading some freshly baked bread that had been warm when it left Stromness, a crate or two of sterilised milk as well as several boxes addressed to the General Store, which went straight into the back of the Landrover.
Steve noticed Frank looking dubiously at the various labels on the boxes and grinned. "All arranged," he said.
"Right," he continued, "stuff your whatnots in behind the boxes and mind the tray of loaves. You'll have to climb in as best you can on top of the bags, because I can only squeeze Frank and Alan in the front."
There was some giggling and much laughter as the four scrambled amongst their belongings. It was so squashed in the front when Alan and Frank had crowded in that Steve could barely drive.
"Do you want me to join the others in the back? asked Alan.
"It's not far and the road's quiet," said Steve.
"We'll make it okay," added Frank. "I've been further in trucks more loaded than this."
As the Landrover turned into the lower field, they were surprised to find that there was already a tent up by the caravans and by this time two girls in their early twenties had joined the workers at the excavations.
Alicia strolled over to meet the newcomers, glad that the grass was, for a change, dry underfoot. She introduced herself while they were unloading.
"You must be Frank Baxter," she said holding out her hand.
"Right. And you'll be the boss," answered Frank, taking the proffered hand in his big, hairy fist. "Is it OK. with you if I drop my things off in the caravan space you've got for me, before I make a start on whatever you've got lined up?"
"Of course," said Alicia, "but who on earth are all these? I recognise Alan Wainwright of course, but ... the rest?"
"Ah well, " said Steve, emerging from the driver's seat of the Landrover to unload, "you've got yourself some more volunteer labour."
"Yep," chimed in Frank, "Four members of the Orkneys Archaeological Society."
"Really? Every bit of help is welcome." She glanced across to the digging. "You possibly know the two girls from Kirkwall, then. They're here on holiday. Well, you'd better unload your things and unpack your tent or whatever. You can put it next to the other tent." she turned to Frank. "There's a room for you and for Alan in the caravan on the right. If you wouldn't mind giving Steve a hand with the unloading after you've straightened out your things we can all take a break."
"Sounds fine by me." said Frank amiably, and added to Steve, "I'll be right with you."
The American was only seconds inside the caravan, or so it seemed, before he was out again and helping Steve to unload. Once everything was stored appropriately, they turned their attention briefly to the four volunteers. With continued laughter and more giggling, two more tents were put up alongside the first. Steve surprised the gigglers, and to some extent Frank as well, by rigging up an extension cable which not only lit up the area between the two caravans, but also provided a light inside each tent.
"It will go off when I turn the main lights off and you won't have any control of it in the tents, but it's light," he told them.
"It's beginning to look like a gold-rush boom town, " said Frank, "but where's this drink or whatever they're going to have when they take a break?"
"I'll get right onto that," said Steve. "You may as well go over, take a look at the holes in the ground and get your orders from Alicia."
Alicia felt as if she were in charge of a dig of some importance, and wouldn't have thanked Steve for his remarks about 'holes in the ground', had she heard. Her own team was complete, in addition to which there was a team of three adults who seemed to know what they were doing, engaged by the university to do the labouring, the two female volunteers who had been on Hoy doing some work of their own prior to turning up at the site and the four who had come over on the ferry with Frank and Alan. There was a prospect of getting more work done and with the general air of business she felt less resentful towards the whole assignment.
"If Gill and Manjy and two of the volunteers continue to look for an entrance - just continue the trench along this wall," she jabbed at an aerial photograph, "Andy with Jamie and Thomas can take two more of the volunteers. If you start by taking a trench across here," she jabbed again at the aerial photo, "we can see whether or not this is the outline of a house. The third team can consist of Frank, Alan and the other two volunteers. I want to talk first to Frank about the general lie of the land, but the team can continue the trench inwards and see whether or not there is a passageway. We'll have one long session until around six o'clock then stop for food. If we go steadily without rushing we should get a lot done."
Alicia watched with some pleasure as her gang trooped across the field to the dig, and settled down to work according to her directions and according to good archaeological practice.
"Do you want me to dig for a while?" asked Steve. "I've unpacked your computer, the power line from the farm is in place and there's no other work for me in the next hour or so, before I start to get something ready to eat."
"The vehicles have been serviced, have they?" Alicia wanted to know.
"Well they've been checked over. They don't need any servicing. All in order. And the generator," answered Steve.
"Then by all means lend a hand with the digging. Join Gill and Manjy, they're a bit light on men in their team," said Alicia, beckoning to Frank to join her in the cabin.
"Right."
Alicia eyed Frank cautiously. "You're a Doctorate Degree student from the University of Houston?" she asked.
"Sure thing. I've spent the last couple of years on digs involved with Mayan remains and I'm a specialist on their obsession with the calendar and the movements of Mars and Venus. I'm no expert on Bronze Age Britain, I'm only here for the change and the experience. And to see what sort of interest there was in the heavens here, because you cover roughly the same period as the pre-Mayan era. You're in charge of this one and you're giving the orders," he added, grinning.
Alicia was treating him with some deference nevertheless, and wondered whether she would show the the same deference to another woman or another black. She drew her attention back to the job in hand and showed him the aerial photographs of the site. Frank agreed with her, though he would have accepted her word anyway, for he meant it when he said she was giving the orders. After all, it was to be her report which would pass or fail her degree. She watched him striding cheerfully across the rough grass to join Alan Wainwright.
Alicia stayed behind in
the 'office' for a few moments. The computer looked to be hooked up properly, but she didn't bother turning it on yet: time enough when there was something to enter. It crossed her mind that either Steve knew about the subject or his instinct for things mechanical was considerable. The little box of CDs was on the table alongside the machine, so she flipped it open and gave a passing glance. The three programme CDs were back-up copies, for emergency only, but there were plenty of blanks for the data. "I hope we'll have plenty of data to put on them!" she thought, and flipped the lid down.
She picked up the aerial photographs again, but didn't really see them. In fact she was not seeing the Portacabin or the remains turned up so far either, nor was she seeing the other scant furnishings of the cabin. Alicia was thinking of her parents in a Birmingham backstreet and of the various friends and acquaintances she had made and lost along the way through school and university. Many of her friends at school now had dead end jobs or families or no jobs at all. She couldn't help thinking of the old saying that the further you climb the further you have to fall - and she had climbed a long way from those backstreets. Still, in spite of what she had said to Professor Harrington she felt in charge and confident. When he called in to see how things were going, he would be impressed.
Alicia shook herself from her day dreams, got up from the desk, left the cabin and walked after Frank, who was already watching Jamie and Andy.
"You know," said Jamie in a burst of unusual chattiness, "I think this is a house, but the roof's collapsed. Well, the middle of it. And some of these stones show signs of a fire."
"Do they now?" remarked Frank, staring at the place indicated by Jamie. "It's only the top one. Perhaps it's a chimney."
"It's no' a chimney, there's no' enough soot. They just look a bit burnt is all."
"You're mebbe right," said Frank. "I'd better get Alicia over here before we disturb anything, but it seems to me this room may have been destroyed by fire."
"Aye? Well, that's one canny woman."
Alicia had reached the site by this time and Frank climbed out of the hole to call her.
When she examined the excavation she agreed with Jamie that there was some evidence of burning.
"They seem to have used whalebone to support roofs at Scara Brae, but perhaps the builders here used wood to support the roof," she mused, looking long and hard at the stones.
"There would have been a chimney," she said, "but these stones have been exposed to a short period of heat rather than a long period of smoke."
She straightened up. "There's been some collapsing of roof stones and there are faint indications that there was a fire. I think the best thing is to expose the roof stones and see the extent of damage, and then dig carefully down and see what's left of what was in the room."
"Seems like you were right Jamie," Frank remarked when Alicia had gone.
"Aye. Maybe so," responded Jamie.
"Keep at it carefully," said Frank "You've every reason to be pleased with the day's work, but we don't want to miss any clue there might be. At least we know that this home wasn't given up voluntarily," he added.
At the end of the day Alicia told the others about this piece of evidence and what it appeared to mean for the history of the village.
"Of course," Alicia told her diggers, "you can't jump to any conclusions from just one building or one set of evidence, but it does look as if this was a village of some size and that life here ended violently. What we don't know yet, of course, is whether that violence was accidental or deliberate and whether, if deliberate, an outside agency of some sort was involved."
"I presume that we're digging at the moment through sand that has blown in through the centuries." Alan remarked.
"I'd expect you to come across charred remains of anything flammable in the roof as the next significant remains," Frank told him by way of answer, with a quick glance at Alicia.
"Grub up!" interrupted Steve, and the group as one person trooped over to where he had been making supper.
There was no shortage of help when it came to serving , but a distinct lack of volunteers to help him wash up.
"Do you want to take your own pictures to-day?" Steve asked Alicia quietly when a rota had been drawn up for the dish-washing. "or do you want me to take them as usual?"
"I'll let you do the close ups," said Alicia, "but I'll come with you when you do and point out what I want taken. I think from now on we'll take pictures as soon as there's anything to record."
Steve nodded his agreement.
Much later Gill walked by herself on the sands, watching the waves break on the beach below the dunes. She thought about the happiness in her life and about the foolishness that had led her to think that all happiness was gone for good. She had been very happy with him, and of course his going had left her life empty and her alone - but had it justified an overdose? Gill had only asked herself this question in the last few months and, when she did, she couldn't escape the fact that it hadn't. Now, in retrospect, she felt a bit of a fool over what she had tried so hard to do.
"Penny for your thoughts," said a voice. It was Steve who had come upon her while she was lost in thought.
"You startled me! I wasn't thinking anything worthwhile. I was just wondering why I ever thought it was worth it."
"Whether what was worth it?"
"Whether it was worth trying to kill myself because my life seemed empty and worthless when he left," answered Gill, after a pause to think about the question.
"No one's worth that much," remarked Steve. There was a long silence, broken only by the breaking of waves on the beach. Finally he asked her, "Didn't you have any happy memories?"
"Oh yes," said Gill, smiling at her thoughts, "I had lots. We were happy together and it was the happy memories I couldn't take."
"Well you should try not having happy memories to look back on," he said wryly. "When I lay awake in prison I could only think back on fights on the football terraces. Fights aren't exactly restful, happy memories."
"No," admitted Gill. "They aren't are they? I suppose you think I've been a bit of a fool. Most people do." she added.
"I think I've been a bit of a fool," he said, without answering her question one way or the other. There was another silence, then he continued, "Would you go back to him now?"
Gill thought about this for a moment, then shook her head. "I don't think there was ever any going back once he'd left me and I wouldn't want him back now." She paused. "No," she added, then said, "And you. Do you want to fight on the football terraces again.?"
Steve laughed. "No chance," he said.
Again there was a silence broken only by the sound of the sea on the shingly beach. Gill broke it by asking, "How did you get involved in the fighting?"
When he didn't answer straight away, Gill wondered whether he was about to 'clam up' on her.
"Drink and the wrong company, I think," he said at last.
"Pardon?"
"I went around with a cousin and his mates. I got into pub crawling and drinking a lot. I got picked up for fighting a time or two."
Gill wondered whether he was playing down the football violence. "What about football matches?" she asked. "I thought they told you to stay away from football grounds."
"My cousin and one or two of his crowd were pretty nasty characters," said Steve, "but I didn't recognise that at the time."
There was a silence as Steve withdrew into his thoughts again. Gill didn't like to pursue him into such private territory but he continued of his own accord.
"They were part of an organised disruptive element at matches. They used to go to games for no other reason than to cause trouble. I started drinking and going with them, just when there was a clamp down on crowd violence. The prison sentence sobered me up, I can tell you."
"Do the others know about your prison background. I mean, about your record?"
"I neither advertise the fact, nor hide it," said Steve in reply, "but I imagine Alicia knows about it
since she's seen my file. I don't think the others do." He paused a moment and then added, "I don't know why I'm talking about it to you. I don't usually mention it at all."
"Perhaps you're talking about it to me because we've both turned over a new leaf," Gill replied.
They began walking along the beach a little in the fading light. "That's true enough, I suppose. Anyway, prison's full of failures with a big opinion of themselves. As far as I can see the real successes aren't caught, are they? The only reason people are found in prison at all is that they've been caught." There was a pause before he added "Like me."
"Successes?"
"Murderers, thieves, swindlers, embezzlers, People who spoil football matches by fighting. If they get away with it, they aren't caught. Prison is not the place to learn from anyone who's done it and got away with it, is it?"
This was a new idea to Gill and she was considering it when she suddenly stumbled over a small rock, and Steve caught her. For a moment or two he held her gently. At length she drew away.
"Are those the lights of a ship?" she asked him unsteadily.
Steve turned toward the gentle swell. "Where?" he asked.
"Over there on the water."
"Well I imagine if they're on the water they must be. Oh I see where you mean. Yes I think it's some kind of small boat close in. Perhaps they're fishing."
"And that sweeping light you can see sometimes must be a lighthouse," she said
"I saw one on an island from the ferry. Cava I think it is." There was silence for a moment or two. "Anyway, I ought to be getting back to see to the generator and things," he added, but he didn't actually turn back.
"I think I'll go back with you," said Gill. "It's getting late and chilly." She turned with him and they walked back together towards the lights of the camp.