A Girl called Admiral Fairweather
Page 6
CHAPTER 6
CHAIN OF COMMAND
When Reginald told the crew that Admiral Boar, as he was now known, had ordered that the Happy Trader be brought upstream so it could depart with the Serendipity, they had heartily laughed.
‘The ship was made for the ocean, not rivers,’ someone said when the crew finally realised Reginald was serious. ‘Besides, it’s fully loaded with provisions so it will sit low in the water making it hard to move and impossible to manoeuvre. Are you sure you and the farm horse can do it?’
When Reginald told them that Assam Tortoise would captain the Happy Trader they thought he was joking or just mistaken. The tortoise’s fear of pirates was legendary and the idea of his captaining a ship that was to chase after pirates was—well frankly, it was ridiculous. It didn’t help that while Reginald was trying to convince them, Assam seemed more like a stone than a tortoise. Stanley had carried him downriver like a sack of potatoes. Together they had placed him gently on the wooden boards where he still lay tucked up in his shell. He suspected the tortoise was in shock after his cruel branding.
‘But, it will take hours to go all the way up river only to turn round and come back down again,’ someone else complained. ‘The Mayor wanted us to leave at dawn behind the Hammer but it left hours ago and we’re still sitting here, waiting. We’ve worked all night to be ready and now you’re saying we need to throw away all the time we gained by going upriver for a speech? We think it’s stupid and we’re not doing it!’
Reginald thought it was stupid too but didn’t say so. Instead he argued that despite the apparent ludicrousness of Admiral Boar’s orders, he had been put in charge by the Mayor and there was, after all, a chain of command to respect. Perhaps there were reasons behind the Admiral’s decision that would be obvious only in hindsight. The Admiral had said he had ‘confidential’ information. That could be it. So they should all pull together and do whatever was necessary, even if it did seem crazy. Rescuing Harry Possum and Sally Sloth should be their only priority and while they argued, precious time was slipping away.
Eventually Reginald persuaded them. He was well known in Port Isabel as a schoolteacher and curator of the Museum of Ancient Antiquities. He was also known to be the sometimes-confidante of the Mayor; an honour rarely received. This gave him considerable informal authority. Power had a way of rubbing off onto the friends of the powerful. Some of the crew had been at Town Hall when the Mayor had singled out Reginald, saying he had ‘always been a friend of this court’. They told the others of what passed between Reginald and the Mayor and of Reginald’s connection with Admiral Fairweather and so after much discussion they reluctantly agreed to rendezvous with the Serendipity upriver.
Reginald and Stanley cut overland to the river mouth where they were to meet up with the Happy Trader. They chatted as they made their way between the work sheds and outlying cottages. Lobster pots, coils of rope and torn fishing nets lay scattered amongst the upturned hulls of old fishing boats, paint peeling. The midmorning sky was scattered with light cloud and there was no sign of rain.
‘Do you think, d-d-do you think they’re okay?’ asked Stanley, stammering.
‘I’m sure they are. Flossy’s a remarkable animal and a credit her House. If anyone can bring Harry and Sally back safely, it’s her.’
When they reached the dunes at the outskirts of town, the track widened and they were able to walk side-by-side. The sand was warm and dry under the late winter sun. Tufts of silver-green grass and stunted vegetation dotted the dunes, struggling to find nutrients amongst the few rocky outcrops. In the valleys between the dunes, the sound of surf seemed hollow and distant. This was where his students were collecting samples for science class on the day the school was blasted to ruins by the pirates.
He glanced up the hillside towards the school but a sand dune blocked his view and he couldn’t even see the workers cottages that stood between the school grounds and the Gulf. He didn’t feel angry about the loss of the school, or the museum for that matter. He just felt disappointed and a little numb. The pirates had randomly fired at the hillside and hit his school. There was no other explanation that made sense. It was all just an accident. Now the whole town was chasing after them. Who knew how many pirates or townsfolk would be injured, or worse? He couldn’t help but feel that it would have been better if Harry hadn’t provoked them in the first place. He should have let sleeping dogs lie, as the old saying went. At least this latest action would be the last. The pirates had no ship and all the resources of the town were flying towards them with Flossy at the helm. They didn’t stand a chance.
When Reginald and Stanley reached the Tea Tree Forest they parted ways. Stanley used the forest path and Reginald went around and along the rocky foreshore as he was too big to pass through. When he arrived at the other side the dapple-grey horse was waiting by the riverbank looking out to sea. The warm sun was adrift in a pale blue sky and the gentle breeze toyed listlessly with Stanley matted mane.
It took the Happy Trader an hour to sail across Lunar Bay, out through the Heads and past the sleeping lighthouse to the river’s wide mouth. Here, the flat, fast-moving waters of the Rio Grande slammed into the heaving waters of the Gulf. Twelve animals in three rowboats laboured in the strong current to tow the Happy Trader into position so it could be toed.
‘The whole thing’s crazy, if you ask me,’ said a gibbon—Reginald didn’t catch his name—as he fussed with his and Stanley’s harnesses. With two others, the gibbon had rowed ashore with the towropes. ‘I mean really! What’s the pig thinking? We should be at sea by now not going upriver so we can turn round and come down again. He’s an idiot you know. We wouldn’t have been ready at dawn if we hadn’t ignored him all night. He’s got no idea and I can’t believe the Mayor would put him charge if he knew just how truly stupid he really is.’
Reginald just nodded, sadly. There was nothing he could say. The boar was in charge at the Mayor’s orders and there was a chain-of-command to respect. He just had to believe Admiral Boar was acting with superior knowledge of the situation. He must know something they didn’t or his orders just didn’t make sense.
The twin towropes, each as thick as the gibbon’s forearm, trailed slackly across the narrow stony beach and rolled in the shallows. They floated freely past the waiting rowboats and were soon lost to sight in the foaming surf. As the wind was coming from offshore, the ship’s sails were reefed. It would be up to Reginald and Stanley to bring the Happy Trader to Thompsons Creek.
‘Come on, Stanley,’ said Reginald as he turned and began to walk upriver dragging his slack towrope behind. ‘We’ve a long way to go. We best get started.’