by John Molloy
“Great,” he lied. He had a throbbing behind his eyes from drinking too much beer the night before.
“Well Tyler, the news is you’ll be joining your ship at eleven o’clock this morning, so I’ll collect you at ten and we’ll drive to Fremantle.”
“Good. “See you then.”
There was a noticeable change in the weather as they drove out to Fremantle. “Hope you enjoy Bombay, your first port of call. After that I have no definite idea of your sailing orders.”
“I’ve read up a little about the bustling city. Sure to be interesting. I hope by then to have some kind of profile on my four suspects.”
They drove onto the dock and could barely see the ship under a cloud of dust rising from the big chutes pouring the grain into her holds. Danny stopped before the car was enveloped in the dust cloud. “Well old boy, this is where you get off and start on a new adventure.” He leaned over and shook Henry’s hand. “The best of British luck Henry. Keep in touch. When this is all over come back here and I’ll take you out and show you what a real drinking session is all about!”
“I’ll keep you to that Danny and thanks for everything. You’ve been a great scout.”
Henry humped his two bags up the gangway and reported to the chief steward. It was ten thirty, ‘smoko’ (tea break/cigarette break) time and a steward was passing with a tray laden with mugs of steaming hot tea.
The chief steward addressed the steward with the tray. “Gary, come back in a few minutes and show our new man to his quarters.”
“Ok sir. I’ll be back in a moment.”
“Come in and sit down,” the chief gestured to Henry, “I believe you were on one of those Irish ships and paid off sick and had to be hospitalized.”
“Yes that’s right; I’ve been ashore for a while.”
“Did you sail second steward on The Irish Plane, that her name?”
“Yes, I was second steward, and they were a good company to work for with well-run ships.”
“That’s news because we British have the wrong impression that they are some wild bunch of yahoos with no discipline and prone to drunkenness and rowdyism.”
“Well nothing could be further from the truth; they are very strict and dry ships. A tot of rum on a Saturday night and that’s it. Mind you, we did have a few punch ups in port but no more than most ships. But once back at sea all is forgotten.”
Gary Conrad poked his head into the chief steward’s cabin.
“Take our new man and show him his cabin. Come back up to me Tyler and I’ll take you up to the old man to sign on.”
“Hello, my name is Gary Conrad, I’m your room mate.”
“I’m Henry Tyler, pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Here, let me carry one of them.” He picked up Henry’s case and went ahead down the stairway to the crew’s quarters. They reached the lower deck with its pungent air of men who worked, relaxed and slept in close proximity, Henry contrasted the fresh air of the chief steward’s cabin with the below deck crew quarters. Gary Conrad opened the cabin door and went in ahead of Henry.
”This is your one,” he said, pointing to the top bunk, “and these are your set of drawers and locker.”
Henry took a quick look around. The first thing to catch his eye was a large poster size picture of a naked woman with over large breasts which were marked with an arrow pointing to each one: yours, and mine.
Conrad saw him looking at her. “That’s Lolita and so there are no arguments, we share her equally - one tit each.”
“Very well endowed I must say. Nice viewing on a wet afternoon.”
“I suppose after five or six weeks at sea on this tub it helps to remind one that there is another species called women.”
“Yes of course you’re right, but I’m sure there is no shortage of girly books doing the rounds?”
“Yeah, we’re fed up with the old ones, should have a bit of fresh viewing when we leave here. By the way, you know we’re bound for Bombay.”
“No I didn’t.” Henry feigned ignorance, “and then where?”
“Haven’t a clue, could be anywhere. I better get back on duty; the chief will let you know what duty you’re on.”
When he left, Henry suppressed an urge to open his locker and drawers and search for a possible clue to Shirley’s murder. Hold tight he cautioned himself. He got out his discharge book and went back up to the chief steward who led him to the captain.
The captain was sitting behind his polished desk which was covered with papers. He was writing and signing documents and putting them to one side.
“I have Mr. Tyler sir, our new assistant steward.”
“Come in, I should have those ship’s articles here somewhere.” He sorted through a pile of papers. “Ah, here they are.”
Henry handed him his discharge book. “I see you sailed as second steward on The Irish Plane. Her master is Johnny Poole, a very good friend of mine. How is he keeping?”
“Oh, just fine sir when I left.” Henry’s whole charade began to crumble. Good grief! how could this be happening, is all he could think.
The chief steward turned to leave. “Call in to my cabin on your way below.”
“Aye-Aye sir,” he replied in a faltering voice.
The captain laid out the articles. “Here, sign here. Do you want to send an allotment to anybody, wife mother or dependents?”
“No sir, I have no dependents.”
“Right Tyler, I hope you enjoy your time on the Rangoon. We’re bound for Bombay and as yet, no word as to where from there.”
The chief steward assigned Henry to serving the officers saloon for breakfast and dinner. Conrad would do lunches. He was also assigned the deck officers accommodation and the two radio operators. He took up his duties immediately after lunch and felt confident, although the captain mentioning he knew The Irish Plane’s captain nearly unnerved him. It also warned him he would have to be very vigilant and careful with questions about the ships he was supposed to have sailed on.
During a short afternoon break he went up the dock road to the post office with the letters he had written to Vincent and Vera. When he came back up the gangway he met a deck apprentice hanging up the board with the sailing time on it. The white chalk read twenty hundred hours. He looked at the young man dressed in his whites and wondered if he was Oswyn Welland.
The young man turned to him. “Are you the new assistant steward?”
“Yes that’s me.”
“I suppose like all the catering staff you probably don’t know what twenty hundred hours means in normal time? Well its eight o’clock in the evening in layman’s terms.”
“Thank you for the information, and who might you be sir.”
“I’m second senior deck apprentice. Welland is my name.”
“Thank you, my name is Tyler.” Henry took stock of this haughty self-important young man and thought what an attitude he would present to a young girl. He was all of six foot tall with dark hair and complexion. He could be considered quite handsome. Vera’s description of the dark French beautiful girl who stole her fiancé was very evident in this young man.
Henry was lying on his bunk reading when the droning noise of the loading chutes stopped. It was nineteen hundred hours. The silence was broken by loud voices coming from deck hands, lowering derricks and battening down hatches, preparing the ship for sailing. He though if he had a choice he would prefer to be an able seaman out on deck doing what he believed was sailors work. Gary Conrad came in with two mugs of hot tea and handed one to Henry.
“Thanks Gary.”
“Were you ever in Bombay?”
“No Gary, I’ve never been there, have you?”
“Yeah, once only. It’s not the greatest port around. There’s plenty of women, cheap too, but you’d want to use protection, it’s supposed to be a good place to catch a dose!”
Henry gave a false laugh. “You’ve got your point across, I‘ll try to keep my pants on for the duration.”
/> “Sorry, don’t get me wrong. I didn’t mean to scare you, it’s just a matter of being careful.”
“Well we’ll just wait and see. Play it by ear, that’s my motto.”
There was a slight vibration as the ship began to move off the quay wall. It was a short run to the open Indian Ocean and full ahead on a moderately calm sea with a south westerly swell. The fully laden Rangoon was comfortable plowing a straight furrow on her north westerly course. Henry finished his tea and decided to go on deck and view the great ocean and meet some of the crew who were still stowing the mooring ropes and checking that everything movable was lashed down and secure. There were a few men standing along the alleyway outside the galley smoking and looking at the fading shore lights and the flash of the lighthouse. The young horned moon was creeping up the eastern sky into the clear starry night.
A crewman walked up to him and produced a packet of Camel. “Have a smoke, you’re the new man?”
“Yes that’s me, Henry Tyler, thanks.”
He flashed a lighter and lit the cigarette for Henry. “I’m the second cook and baker. I have to get that bit in, it’s very important, especially when I have to bake the bread every second day. How did you enjoy your time ashore in Aussie?”
“Actually, I was in hospital for the same reason the previous steward, Denis Troy is now in hospital in Perth; I had a suspected appendicitis. But when I came out I enjoyed myself. However, I thought I might be flown home. No chance though, the company’s too tight-fisted for that.”
“Yeah, all these shipping companies are the same, tight as a crabs’ assholes.”
Henry hesitated deciding which way to direct the conversation. “What do you think of our next port? I’ve never been to Bombay, have you?”
“No, but I was in Calcutta and if it’s anything like that it’s a shit hole. Most of these Indian ports are much the same.”
A call came up the alleyway. “He’s giving out an issue.”
The second cook turned to walk away. “I suppose we better go and get a few cigarettes.”
“Ok,” said Henry. He remembered from his studying that the bond would usually be opened shortly after sailing and cigarettes and tobacco were issued to all crewmen.
He followed the crewmen and got two cartoons of Lucky Strike. He went on down to his cabin and Gary Conrad had on his transistor radio with a local radio station from Perth playing the latest pop tunes. He spoke above the noise. “See you got the weed. I didn’t see you smoking. I thought you were like me, a non-smoker.”
“I’m a very moderate smoker, replied Henry, “some days I might not smoke at all. Do you mind sharing with a smoker?”
“No, every cabin and the recreation room are constantly filled with smoke - doesn’t bother me.”
Henry began to undress. “I’m going to snooze.” He jumped up into the top bunk and pulled over the curtain, switching on his overhead light, he read for a while and before falling off to sleep, he thought to himself, that the hunt was on in earnest now.
Next morning he served breakfast and took particular notice of Sean Sweeney the junior radio officer and one of the suspects. He was a slightly built lad with red tasseled hair and with all the sunshine he still had a fresh freckled complexion. Henry thought he was one of those Nordic types who never tan. He had an appetite like a gannet, and the steward in the pantry told Henry when he was serving the junior to give him an extra helping or he’d only be back looking for seconds. He was very polite, his pleases and thanks yous were prolific, but Henry observed what he’d term a shifty eye. He never held eye contact and was constantly brushing his hair from his eyes with his hand and using the movement to observe other crewmen and their movements as they came and went for breakfast. He reminded Henry of some animal he just couldn’t place, and then as he came back with the second officer’s food the red head turned and the hazel brown eyes met his - ah yes, a fox!
*****
Sean Sweeney thoughts flashed back to the dark dormitory where he slept with thirty other boys. He’d cover his head to try and block out the loneliness and fear that were his constant companion especially at night. The light footsteps his worst fear as the blanket was pulled from his face and there in the semi-darkness the black clad figure reaching out and taking him by the hand leading him trembling to the punishment room. This ogre defiled his young body and scarred his fragile mind, and he was burdened with this terrible stigma that he considered he was somehow responsible for. His aunt Mary loved him as much as any mother and his uncle a patient and gentle man, gave him all the attention and love he fostered on his own son. He’d often say to his wife Mary - who had never told him what she had seen at the orphanage – “what is it with young Sean, I try to do all I can like a father but I feel like he’s across the other side of the River Liffey and we both have outstretched hands but cannot reach one another. It’s not your or his fault but it’s that blasted place he was in. Those people running it weren’t fit to look after young boys. What was it Mary, did they beat him?”
Determined that her husband shouldn’t know the full horror of what happened in that place she said, “Yes, they beat the poor child and harmed his little mind. Please God he’ll grow out of it.”
*****
The morning duties for Henry brought him to the junior radio officer’s cabin where he went about the normal work of making his bunk, cleaning the wash hand basin which was spotless anyway, a quick vacuum of the small carpet, a little dusting and that seemed to be it. The place was meticulously tidy. Henry wrestled with temptation to look through his drawers and personal belongings but resisted until he was sure of Sweeney’s watch keeping times when he could work without fear of being caught. He thought he would do a little everyday - one drawer at a time - there was no hurry.
Back in the pantry he was given a tray to take coffee to the third mate on watch, also the two radio operators. He was pleased to get an opportunity to see the bridge and radio shack and know how far it was from the junior’s cabin as this would give him a direction of his footsteps if he were to come down while he was searching. His cabin was directly below the bridge next to the captain and the senior radio man. The most difficult place to search would be Oswyn Welland’s cabin. He was sharing a cabin with another deck apprentice and it would be nigh impossible to have both apprentices out of their cabins at once, especially as when at sea. So some of this search work would have to be done while in port. For the moment he’d concentrate on Sweeney and Conrad. Hadar Tukola was also sharing with another able seaman on the port side along the deck hands alleyway.
When he finished duty that evening he took a stroll on the after deck with a number of crewmen who were outside to get away from the oppressive heat of the accommodation. The cool sea breeze was refreshing and he saw some of the deck hands and firemen bringing out blankets - they were going to bed down on deck. He was looking for Tukola although he didn’t know what he looked like but he hoped to maybe hear someone call him by name. He knew he was colored; his father being from the Celebes, and as yet he had seen no colored crewmen. Maybe he was the only one. If so he’d be easy to spot.
Gary Conrad was leaning on the gunwale admiring the sunset and Henry went to stand alongside him. He turned to Henry. “Beautiful isn’t it?”
“Yes it’s kind of mesmeric.”
“What’s that big word mean?”
Henry regretted using the word. Maybe Conrad would think he was a bit of an education show off.
“You know,” he replied, “kind of like being hypnotized.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean, but do you know what it reminds me of?”
Henry looked along the ship’s side and as darkness descended so the sparkling sea became more spectacular and beautiful.
“No, what?”
“You ever see the fire flies, the way they fly around switching on and off their lights. I’d sit and watch them for hours.”
Henry had never seen fireflies but knew what they were like.
�
��Yes, I know they are pretty and much alike just what their name implies beautiful to watch.”
The crewmen were picking spots around the deck to place their blankets and pillows.
“What do you think about sleeping out under the stars, that cabin of ours is very hot those old air vents are no better than an old bird’s fart?”
Henry thought this would be a great opportunity to get Conrad out of the cabin for a long enough time to do a search.
“I’ll try it for another night and if it gets too stuffy. I might move out tomorrow or the next night.”
“Well as you wish, but I’m going to bed down on the boat deck - nice cool breeze up there.”
Henry waited until well after midnight to be sure Conrad wasn’t changing his mind about sleeping on the boat deck, before he started to search of his belongings. The first drawers revealed normal clothes. Henry was careful not to show any sign of disturbance. His personal stuff was in a case in the locker. Here he found letters from family, mostly his mother and sister. One also from his solicitor; this he had received in Fremantle and it stated he was to present himself at the local police station on his return to answer questions regarding accusations from his former wife about assault, causing bodily harm and rape. His solicitor was condescending telling him to contact him as he would accompany him to the police station, and not to worry, because these charges would be dealt with accordingly. He found an assortment of girly magazines and soft porn - not unusual he thought, for men in this job. A pocket in the lining at the bottom of the case showed a bulge. He pulled out photos of a girl tied in bondage on a bed, she looked as if she was smiling and enjoying herself. She was naked. He found an assortment of these of the same girl in different poses. He wondered who this girl was until he found a wedding picture, they were one and the same - it was the young wife. My goodness, something must have gone seriously wrong as she seemed to be enjoying what he saw in the photos. He replaced them and went to his closet; here he found a fishing rod and an assortment of lines, a box of lures with a lot of hooks. He examined one of the hooks and tried to think of the ones that were attached to Shirley’s body. They all looked alike. He replaced them and went to his clothes on hangers. He searched all the pockets and came up with a wallet containing money of various currencies, a passport, sunglasses, a picture of himself and his ex-wife in happier times. And in an inside pocket he nearly overlooked, he found a sealed letter addressed to his ex-wife. He wondered why Conrad hadn’t posted it. Henry was disappointed and somewhat relieved to have found nothing incriminating, but he couldn’t be ruled out - he was still a suspect.