by John Molloy
“Yeah, I’m kinda hooked on Harini, she’s a smashing turn.”
“Well if I make it I might drop in for one.”
“We’ll be sailing the day after tomorrow, we’ll have a call I believe in Colombo – but I don’t think there will be shore leave though.”
“Henry, have you ever had a stop at Colombo?”
“No I’ve never been to Colombo, what’s it like?”
“It’s generally only a four or five hour anchor stop taking on stores that you couldn’t normally get here in Bombay but wait for it, the finest young tarts you ever laid an eye on come on board. Look we better move, I’ll fill you in later.”
The evening meal was a bit of a rush as most of the men were heading ashore. On deck Henry noticed that the discharging of cargo had stopped all the hatches were closed and all was silent except for the throbbing of the generators. He’d brought some cigarettes with him and sat smoking leaning on the gunwale watching all who were going ashore.
He was somewhat elated when he saw the three deck apprentices heading away. Gary Conrad was right behind them and had the second steward in tow. Now, if only Tukola and his mate would leave. He took note of who was the night watchman; it was always one of the senior able seamen. Tonight he saw him going aft to check the mooring ropes and it wasn’t Tukola or his roommate. Then he saw Tukola going aft to take down the ships ensign and he was turning on the ship’s deck lights from the mast houses as he went. He knew he would take down all the flags and turn on all the lights but he’d be free to go ashore after that. He saw three deckhands tramping the gangway - one of them was Tukola’s roommate. Great he thought, only one to go and the search would be able to proceed, he was confident it would turn up something. He waited and watched anxiously as the crew went down the gangway in dribs and drabs but no Tukola. When he thought the last had gone he looked at his watch; it was quarter to nine, he could expect Fokir or his understudy soon. He went up onto the boat deck and stood for a while. The ship was starboard side to the quay so Welland’s cabin was only feet away from where he could keep look out over the side to see if any of them were returning. It was only a few seconds move to tap on the cabin window glass to alert the searcher. He saw a big figure approaching the gangway dressed in a western style gray flannel suit. It was Fokir. The night watchman asked him his business. “I am from the ship’s agents and I have business with your chief officer.”
“You know where his cabin is sir?”
“Yes, I’ve been on board before.”
Henry was fingering the key in his pocket; still Tukola hadn’t gone ashore. He walked down to meet Fokir, they didn’t speak. Fokir followed him onto the boat deck and they stood silent, just listening.
“Thanks for coming, Fokir. Tukola has not gone ashore, here’s the key.”
“Have you tried it?”
“No, not in this room but it opens my door. The cabin is on our side here, starboard. I will keep look out at the rail and if anyone of them are coming back I’ll tap three times on the cabin window.”
“Good Henry, it shouldn’t take more than about ten minutes.”
Fokir disappeared into the accommodation and Henry saw the light go on in the cabin. He stood looking out over the rail and had a great view of the length of the quay wall. He could see anyone approaching from a good way off. A minute later he saw Sweeney coming along the quay. He was whistling and carrying a bag of purchases. A girl came out of the shadows and stood in front of him, they spoke for a few minutes and he took some money out of his pocket and handed it to her. She stood on her toes and gave him a kiss on the lips. He watched her as she disappeared back into the shadows. Good grief, Henry thought, how strange. A loud voice sounded behind him.
”What are you doing on this deck?”
He turned and there was the captain in his duck whites, with his hands behind his back and a stern look on his face.
“You are the new steward I signed on in Freemantle?”
“Yes sir.”
“Well, what are you doing on this deck, don’t you know this is out of bounds to you?”
“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t realize, I came up to get a bit of cool air.”
“Don’t let me see you on this deck again unless you have some ship’s business. You have plenty of deck space without coming up here.”
“Aye-aye sir.”
The captain stood while Henry made his way down the companionway onto the officer’s deck. Henry listened a while and heard him walk back towards the bridge. He hurried quietly up the port companionway and into the apprentice’s accommodation. “Fokir,” he whispered quietly as he walked in, as not to alarm him.
Fokir turned round he was searching through a drawer.
“Is everything ok?”
“The old man has just ordered me off the boat deck.”
“I’m nearly through here.” He held up a handful of envelopes passed half to Henry, “here have a quick look through these.”
Henry noticed the Thurrock Hall stamp on the good quality vellum envelopes. The hand writing was the same on them all, a woman’s writing. He opened one. They were from Oswyn’s mother. Glancing through a couple of pages he could see they were normal mother to son letters.
He handed them back to Fokir who was careful to replace them exactly as he found them. They both stopped and stood listening. There was someone talking out on the boat deck. Henry recognized the old man’s voice. “It’s the captain talking to someone.” Henry walked out to the front entrance and listened; he was talking to the chief officer. He heard the chief officer ask him if he went to his cabin looking for him. Jesus, Henry thought, he was referring to Fokir! The night watchman must have told him there was a man from the office come on board. They walked back towards the bridge. Henry rushed back to Fokir.
“Well, how are you going?”
Fokir had a cloth in his hand that he just took out from under the mattress at the back of Oswyn’s bunk. He opened the cloth and laid it on top of the bureau. “Holy cow! Henry exclaimed, serious stuff this.”
Inside the cloth was a small Webley hand gun; a thirty eight mark four, with six chambers and a pouch which he opened. It contained twelve bullets. Henry quickly jotted down the serial number and they put it back again.
“That’s it,” said Fokir, taking off his light gloves.
Henry cautioned him. “Before we go out, the old man and the chief officer know you are on board. That’s what they were talking about, so the night watchman might challenge you when you’re leaving.”
Fokir went to the outside door and looked out to see how high the ship was riding over the quay wall. He turned to Henry and handed him the key. “Hide this carefully. Look it’s only about a six foot jump onto the quay wall. I’ll climb over there just aft of the accommodation. I’ll wait for you outside the warehouse, same place I met you before, say in ten minutes.”
They both made it to the main deck and Henry watched Fokir move stealthily around the mast house and after a brief pause, he saw him throw his legs over the gunwale and drop onto the quay wall. For a big man he was very quick and agile. Henry walked down through the seaman’s alleyway and listened outside Tukola’s door, it was silent - no radio on. He moved on to the recreation room. Tukola was playing cards with four others. He glanced up at Henry then averted his eyes and went back to his beer drinking and cards.
After walking off the ship, he made his way out through the dark warehouses to where he spotted Fokir who was waiting in his car. There were three girls around the car and he seemed to have them in friendly chat. When Henry arrived Fokir told the girls in their own language to go. As Henry got in the car Fokir laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Could you believe it, the three girls all refused to do business with me.”
“Seriously, but why?”
“They told me to go home to my wife and family; they only do business with foreigners off the ships who they will never see again. Then I gave them a bit of advice
to keep a close eye on one another if they go with anyone from the ships and not to be alone with a client. Nothing specific that might somehow get back to the killer, just a general warning.”
“Did they take it seriously?”
“I think so.”
Henry and Fokir talked about the discovery of the gun in Oswyn Welland’s cabin.
“Henry, you must be so very careful. If he is our man, the prospect of him being armed must be worrying for you?”
“To tell you the truth, I was shocked when you found it. I wonder where he hides it when we arrive in ports because the custom search could easily find it where he has it now. And yes, it’s making me feel a bit more threatened. I wonder has his father told him about me and had him supplied with the gun before we left Australia?”
“Henry, I honestly I don’t like it one bit and I’m becoming fearful for your safety when you are at sea. If I was your superior I’d take you off that ship now. I don’t want to alarm you but it looks like your cover could be blown, at least in that quarter.”
“It could be, but who knows?”
“Did you see Tukola, was he’s still on board?”
“Yes, he was in the recreation room playing cards, but there’s a small chance he’ll go ashore a bit later.”
Fokir spoke with a degree of resignation in his voice.
“It doesn’t look like you’ll get a chance to do a search of his cabin during this visit. What are your chances of doing one when at sea now you have the master key?”
“Really not great either, as it’s so hard to get the two of them out of the cabin for long enough; this port was our best chance. However, we’re bound for Australia with a short stop at Colombo. I might have an opportunity in Melbourne to do a search.”
Fokir tried to stretch himself and nearly pushed the seat out of its bolts.
“I must get out and stretch my legs.”
They both got out of the car.
“Well, I hope you have a breakthrough before you reach Austral…. Hey! Look, who’s that coming our way. I think it’s Sweeney.”
They could just make him out in the gathering darkness. He was wearing a panama hat, probably to keep the sun off his fair complexion. Henry turned his back to him as he passed the car. He was whistling and carrying a bag. A girl came out of the shadows and stood in front of him; they spoke for a few minutes and he took some money out of his pocket and handed it to her. She stood on her toes and kissed him. They disappeared into the shadows.
Fokir motioned to Henry. “Follow him and see how he behaves,” he whispered.
Henry never replied, he just walked on after the shadowy figures. When he got close he saw her take him by the hand and lead him behind the bales of jute. Henry walked up as close as he could without being seen. She sat him down on a bale and stood in front of him, she was young, no more than sixteen and in the poor light that filtered through the passage between the bales he could see her drop her sari and stand naked before him. Sweeney sat rigid on a small bale like someone had hypnotized him. When she moved close to him her navel was level with his face. He kissed her stomach and put his hands around her buttocks and buried his face in her flesh. She gently pulled him up and kissed him on the lips. Then she opened his buttons and dropped his slacks to the ground, her hands probed his genitals and her expression changed - she looked disappointed as she tried to manipulate an erection, probably thinking she wouldn’t get paid the rest of her money if he didn’t perform. She whispered in his ear and kissed him gently on the lips. I hope she doesn’t make fun of him or joke about his failure to get an erection, Henry thought, as he watch the scene unfold before his increasingly embarrassed eyes. She knelt down before the lad and attempted to perform oral sex on him, but after a while she stopped and he started crying. His sobs were real. She held him like a mother would hold a distressed child. They dressed and she spoke softly to him and was heard her asking him to meet her again, and she told him her name was Moyna before assuring him that next time it would be all right. Then, as he left, he handed her what appeared to be a big wad of rupees.
Henry rushed back to Fokir who was patently sitting in the car with his legs stretched out the door. He related the whole episode to him and asked what he made of it.
“Well Henry it’s very interesting, although I thought you had gone off with one of those girls for sex, but seriously, it would have been interesting to know what would be his reaction if she had slighted him or dismissed him as impotent. If he had been drinking, that too might be a factor in his lack of response.
“That’s true. Tomorrow night is our last night here, I will I see you before we sail.”
”Yes, I’d like to see you if possible at The Blue Orchid tomorrow night say at nine o’clock.”
“Fine, Fokir that will suit me. I’ll say goodnight and thanks for your help.”
“Goodnight Henry.”
Next day loading continued with five gangs; one for each hold. By early afternoon the forward holds were completely full and ready for battening down. Henry brought coffee to the chief officer and asked him when they would be sailing.
“Fifteen hundred hours tomorrow, make sure you have all your mail posted.”
The day passed uneventfully and at five o’clock Henry was in the cabin readying himself for shore.
Gary Conrad came in dripping wet after a shower and sat on his bunk.
“I see you are going ashore.”
“Yes, aren’t you coming?”
“No, I’ve had enough of it here. I’ll be glad to get back to sea tomorrow, looking forward to Melbourne, a decent port.”
Henry looked at himself in the mirror.
“I won’t stay too long, is there anything I can get you?”
No, I’m fully supplied thanks.”
“Right I’ll be off.”
As Henry was walking through the warehouses there was no one around - it was too early for the dock girls, then a lone figure appeared, with familiar shifty eyes, just visible under the rim of his panama hat.”
Henry ventured to engage him in casual conversation.
“Coming back early?”
There was apprehension on his face and when he spoke he seemed unsure what to say.
“Er…yes.”
“But this is our last night here, we’re sailing tomorrow afternoon.”
He was looking around as if expecting to meet someone.
“Yes, I know.”
“Did you enjoy your stay here? I met some nice people in the bar uptown, The Blue Orchid.”
“Oh, I didn’t go into any bars but I met some poor people. It’s a pity how they have to live.”
He was shifting from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. Henry looked around. “Don’t see any of the girls, it must be a bit early for them. I spoke to some of them and they seem very nice and pretty too.”
“Do they come around here? I haven’t seen any of them,” the lad lied, looking over his shoulder.
“They’ll be around later; a shame what they have to do to earn a living.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be off,” said Henry as he left Sweeney standing awkwardly by the warehouse wall.
*****
Moyna, the newest girl to ply her trade in the docks, was the eldest of five children living in a shack not far from the dock area where her father worked until the day he was in an accident and had to have his right leg amputated. His aftercare was non-existent and the stump of his limb was constantly weeping puss and blood; he could not even sit for a long enough time to beg. Compensation was unheard of in the local dock companies. Moyna’s mother begged and did menial work to earn a pittance to feed her family. In desperation Moyna, at just sixteen years of age had to reluctantly resort to vice to earn some money to help keep the family fed. It was eight o’clock, nearly time for her to go and meet some of the men off the ships. This was only her fourth night and she had to be careful as the older girls would beat her away from their patch - fresh young girl
s were too much competition. She washed with a precious bar of soap she had been given by one of the sailors.
As she left the shack her mother whispered so none of the rest of the family could hear. ”Be careful my sweet child and don’t allow anyone to touch you without wearing those rubber things.”
“I will be careful mother, you go to sleep and not wait up for me, I will be late.”
Moyna made her way around the dock area keeping away from the other girls. She hid behind the bales where she had a view of the ship. She hoped she might see the boy from the Rangoon again; he had been very generous to her.
*****
Henry had one drink at the counter in The Blue Orchid, it was almost nine o’clock when he drained the glass. There were no other crew from the Rangoon in the almost empty bar. He went into the inner sanctum and Fokir was waiting for him, sipping tea and chatting to the matron. They were both smoking but the sharp aromatic scent from the cigarettes was not like the usual tobacco.
“Come, sit Henry,” said the matron with a frivolous air.
“Thank you, good evening Fokir.”
Fokir was seated with his shirt unbuttoned to his waist - his body was muscled and firm. He smoked the cigarette with relish.
”I’ve never seen you smoking before, Fokir.”
“Tonight I am off duty and here only to meet you my good friend. The other men are taking care of your crewmen, so I come here to enjoy. Drink your tea Henry and here, smoke one of my special cigarettes.”
He handed Henry a hand rolled cigarette out of a tin box, flicked an American army lighter and held it to the weed. The first inhaled puff sent Henry into a coughing spasm.
“Good grief! what’s in that?”
Fokir laughed out loud.
“Drag a little at a time and inhale slowly.”
Henry looked apprehensive.
“Go on he laughed, try it.”
He sipped the tea and then slowly took a small toke on the cigarette and let a tiny amount back into his lungs. The effect was astonishing. He felt light headed and his vision was somewhat different – how different, he couldn’t really describe.