The Quick Boat Men Read online

  ‘That’s faster than a motor car.’ Georgina was impressed at last.

  ‘Well, yes. And he’s thinking of spar torpedoes. They’re normally carried above water and lowered to below the surface for the attack. All it needs is a determined captain.’

  ‘Take no notice of him, Georgy,’ Maurice shouted from the deck of Fairy. ‘Pa’s not thinking of them at all. They have locomotive torpedoes these days. They have built-in motors and run on gas or something. Eddy’s talking through the top of his head. Just showing off. There’ve been “fish” torpedoes for years. They used to carry them in davits and drop them into the water, and they had a winch to hoist them back aboard after a dummy run. These days they fire them from a tube on the bow.’

  ‘Ignore him, Georgy,’ Edward said, furious that Maurice knew as much as he did.

  Georgina laughed. ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘His voice is louder than yours.’

  ‘You should come with me,’ Maurice shouted to her. ‘In Fairy. I’m taking her out into the Solent this afternoon. It’ll be much better than arsing about with a kid like Eddy who likes to fiddle about with gadgets he doesn’t understand.’

  Augusta rose in Edward’s defence. ‘You shouldn’t use words like “arse”,’ she said.

  Edward looked up fretfully. ‘Are we going on with this experiment or not?’ he asked.

  Georgina responded briskly. ‘I thought we were going to row downriver. I didn’t think we were going to war.’

  ‘One of these days,’ Edward said, ‘we shall be going to war. Everybody knows the Germans are getting too big for their boots and that the Kaiser’s building a fleet as big as ours.’

  ‘Rot,’ Maurice said. ‘Everybody knows the Kaiser’s mad and that the Germans can’t build ships like we can. They wouldn’t have a chance and they know it. That’s why there won’t be a war.’

  Edward wasn’t so sure. The countries of Europe were like duellists – D’Artagnan or Cyrano – quick to quarrel.

  ‘We don’t want to go to war,’ Maurice went on, ‘because, with the Empire, we have everything we need and the Germans just daren’t. And anyway, what lunatic would attack a dreadnought with a spar torpedo?’

  ‘I didn’t suggest we’d attack a dreadnought with a spar torpedo,’ Edward yelled. ‘You’d have to use a mobile torpedo for that. I was just demonstrating how a spar torpedo works.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Oh, shut up.’

  ‘Shut up yourself.’

  Georgina turned her back on Maurice, who sat watching them, with all the arrogance of a nineteen-year-old who owned a motorcycle and was allowed to drive his father’s car and sail his yacht.

  His voice came again. ‘Eddy had never heard of a spar torpedo until a day or two ago,’ he yelled. ‘I saw him reading it up. He ought to know they’re out of date and that it’s pointless experimenting with them.’

  Goaded beyond endurance, Edward retaliated. ‘You’re an ass, Maurice.’

  ‘Ass or not,’ Maurice said, ‘when Pa goes, I’ll be running the yard and I’ll make certain you’re out on your ear. There’ll be no room at Bourdillons for half-wits.’

  ‘Uncle Egg promised me a place.’

  ‘And I suppose you’ll get one. But as soon as I’m running the show, you’re out.’ Maurice beamed and swung his legs. ‘Put that in your pipe and smoke it.’

  ‘Take no notice of him, Teddy,’ Augusta said primly, ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘Actually,’ Georgina announced, ‘this isn’t what I really expected to do this afternoon. Still, I’ll listen.’ She stared at the overhanging trees and the flat calm water and the white yachts reflected in its surface.

  ‘Considering the weather, though,’ she added under her breath, ‘I can’t think why.’

  ‘Well, all right,’ Edward said unwillingly. All the pleasure had gone out of the afternoon. ‘You have to allow for wind and tide and a few things like that, of course, but a skipper with experience could work that out in his head. All he has to do is place his boat alongside the enemy. That’s what Nelson always said. And that–’ he indicated Fairy with the grinning Maurice sitting on its deck ‘–is the enemy.’

  He heaved on an oar and, as the dinghy with the accompanying launch swung, he drew a deep breath. ‘We’re now pointing directly at Fairy,’ he said. ‘What I’ll do now is release the lashings, lean over from the dinghy, set the gear lever to “Ahead”, and just pull the throttle back far enough for her to move slowly through the water. Actually,’ he pointed out pedantically, ‘throttles should be designed to be pushed forward to increase speed, not pulled back.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You’re pushing speed forward into the boat. The other way, you’re pulling her back. Like reins on a horse. I’ve suggested it several times but Uncle Egg doesn’t listen. Now we’ll sit back and watch. Perhaps,’ he added hopefully, ‘Maurice will fall in the water at the shock.’

  ‘Not if she’s going dead slow,’ Georgina pointed out.

  ‘No,’ Edward admitted. ‘Not if she’s going dead slow. Ready?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Here goes. Gear into “Ahead”.’ Edward leaned over and as he pushed the lever forward, the launch began to move slowly forward from alongside the dinghy.

  ‘A little more throttle, I think,’ he went on. ‘So she’ll do the job properly.’

  ‘Go on,’ Maurice shouted. ‘Open her full out. Then perhaps you’ll sink Pa’s boat and he’ll realise what a dummy you are and not allow you in the firm.’

  ‘I wish you’d go and boil your head.’ In his anger, Edward pulled the throttle lever too far back and, as the launch gathered speed and began to move away from him, his clutching fingers only served to open the throttle even wider.

  The rumble of the exhaust increased and the launch shot forward, watched by the horrified group in the dinghy.

  ‘You bloody fool,’ Maurice yelled, scrambling to his feet as he saw the launch heading towards him at high speed.

  ‘You shouldn’t say “bloody”–’ Augusta stopped, her mouth open. ‘Oh, my,’ she breathed.

  The point of the spar struck Fairy on the waterline with a resounding crash and the yacht’s mast oscillated wildly as the boat heeled. Edward’s idea of anchoring the stern end of the spar proved entirely successful; it didn’t tear loose, it just moved backwards enough to stave in the front of the launch’s wheelhouse and lift the roof.

  ‘Christ!’ he said.

  Maurice, who was standing on the deck waving his arms as if he could repel the speeding launch, overbalanced and fell with a flat splash into the water. The launch, as Edward had predicted, the spar having struck something solid inside the yacht, bounced backwards, withdrawing the spar to leave a gaping hole, and was now setting off down the river on its own.

  Ignoring the spluttering Maurice, Edward watched, helpless, as it swung in a wide arc back on its tracks. There were terrified screams as the launch threatened to do the same to the dinghy as it had done to the yacht, but it missed by a hair’s-breadth and went on to run up the shingle bank. There was a bang and a screech from the engine as the propeller shear-pin went, then it stopped dead, blue smoke rising slowly into the air.

  The Fairy had listed sharply, and the hole in her side began to take in water. Sitting horrified in the dinghy, Edward watched as his uncle’s pride and joy sank lower and lower until she finally gave up the ghost, heeled over and lay on her side. The horrified spectators heard her lockers burst open and all the pots and pans Aunt Edith kept aboard for instant water-borne parties, cascade on to the cabin sole. As she sagged beneath the water, her mast at an angle of 45 degrees, Edward stared about him in desperation.

  Maurice was still swimming, but at the crash windows had opened in nearby offices and workshops and people were running out. Someone was climbing into a dinghy and he was relieved to hear the clatter of oars. Pushing Augusta out of the way, Edward seized the oars of the dinghy and started to pull.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Georgi
na asked placidly.

  ‘Down-river,’ he said.

  ‘You’re in trouble, old Teddy,’ she said, beaming at him.

  ‘That’s why I’m going down-river.’

  ‘What about Maurice? Won’t he drown?’

  ‘Unfortunately not.’

  ‘I think that’s your uncle in one of the dinghies. He looks peeved.’

  ‘I don’t blame him.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Row down past Porthelt. You’ll have to row back.’

  ‘When I go out in a boat,’ Georgina said coldly, ‘somebody else takes care of that department.’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Augusta said stoutly. ‘I can row. Where will you be, Teddy?’

  ‘God knows. I think it might be a good idea to join the French Foreign Legion. People always do that when they’re in trouble, don’t they?’

  ‘Africa’s a long way,’ Georgina pointed out cheerfully.

  ‘Perhaps I’d better just go to sea for a while. It might be a good idea if I never came back.’

  ‘Oh, Teddy,’ Augusta sighed.

  As he tugged at the oars, Edward sighed with her. ‘There’s one thing,’ he added. ‘It proves my point about the throttle. If I’d been pushing instead of pulling it wouldn’t have happened.’

  Two

  Despite his despair at Uncle Egg’s anticipated reaction, Edward’s real reason for such a hurried departure was to put as much distance as he could between himself and Cousin Maurice. Since the death of his parents, he had had to put up with Maurice’s bullying without complaint. He’d promised himself that one day Maurice would pay for it but now, he felt, was not the time. Maurice was a great deal bigger than he was. Having felt the weight of his fists on more than one occasion, Edward had no desire to make their acquaintance again. The day would come, however, when he would be as big as Maurice.

  Edward wasn’t eager to disappear immediately into the wild blue yonder. He loved the river and the boat-yard. Bourdillons built small tugs and lighters, driven by reliable steam, paraffin and heavy oil engines. They tackled steel hulls, lightly-plated boats for tropical waters where the destructive ship worm attacked wood; they made wooden barges for Europe, petrol-driven cedar craft, and launches, whalers, dinghies and tenders for the Admiralty. They had slips, a foundry where propellers and other castings were poured, a smithy with furnaces and a steam hammer to forge crankshafts and connecting rods, a boiler shop for plate work, a machine shop with lathes, planers and shapers driven by old-fashioned overhead leather belting, a fitting-shop where engines were fixed and small craft could be brought in to have machinery installed. Practically every craftsman in wood and metal in the area worked at Bourdillons and Edward desperately wanted to be part of it.

  For a day or two, in constant fear of being seen, he hung about the river. A note in the post to Georgina brought not Georgina but Augusta on her bicycle.

  ‘Georgy says she’s busy,’ she announced. ‘She sent me.’

  ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Your uncle’s livid,’ she announced, extracting plenty of drama from the occasion. ‘But your Aunt Edith told Mother he’ll get over it. Mind you, she’s not all that happy herself. She spent a lot of money on new curtains for the cabin and restocked the galley with crockery and the bunks with new mattresses and sheets. It’s all got to be replaced. But she said you ought not to worry, just to give it a bit of time. Did you join the Foreign Legion?

  ‘They haven’t got a recruiting office round here.’

  ‘So what are you going to do?’

  ‘Perhaps Sam Nankidno could let me know how things are at the yard.’

  ‘I can tell you that straightaway. Everything’s stopped for the salvage of Fairy. Your uncle’s got his shotgun in the office, and Maurice has gone into training.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Oh, Christ!’

  ‘Father says you shouldn’t use words like “Christ” and “Jesus” as oaths. He says they’re blasphemous.’

  ‘Your father’s never been in a situation like the one I’m in. I don’t suppose you could lend me some money, could you? I’ve spent all I had with me and I’m starving.’

  ‘I’ve got a bit in a money box. About two or three pounds. I don’t know exactly. You could have that.’

  ‘Good old Gussie. Could you send it down with Sam Nankidno? Tell him I’ll be outside the Three Eels at seven tomorrow.’

  ‘You’re not going drinking, are you?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Edward said.

  But he did.

  Sam Nankidno was only a year older than he was and they had often indulged in wrestling matches behind the boat-house when Sam was supposed to be working. Sam was an apprentice, a dark-visaged youth whose family came from Cornwall, with the build of a fox-terrier and a strange ability to tease recalcitrant engines to life. He had first appeared as a skinny thirteen-year-old, and it was Uncle Egg who had discovered in him an instinctive ability with mechanical things. He came from generations of seafarers and knew all there was to know about the ways of sailors. He and Edward had taken to each other at once.

  Since he brought £2 6s 10d, the entire contents of Augusta’s money box, and had gone to a lot of trouble, it seemed only fair to offer Sam a drink.

  ‘I had a date,’ Sam said, ‘with Alice Appleby. I had to cancel it to come here. She probably won’t go out with me again.’

  ‘You need a drink,’ Edward suggested.

  ‘Gussie said the money was for food and lodgings.’

  ‘I don’t think even she would object to one. A small one.’

  ‘You’re not old enough to go in pubs.’

  ‘I’m big enough. And when you’re big enough you’re old enough.’

  Sam grinned. ‘Come on then,’ he said. ‘Keep your money in your pocket. I’ll pay. After all, it would cost more to take Alice out. She drinks port and lemon. And it’s pay-day tomorrow.’

  Eyed suspiciously by the barmaid, Edward stared into his half-pint of mild, which was the cheapest thing available.

  ‘Think it’s safe to go back?’ he asked.

  Sam grinned again. ‘Not yet,’ he said.

  ‘What shall I do, Sam?’

  ‘Shouldn’t you be going back to school soon?’

  Edward shook his head. He was sick of Greek and Latin and French verbs and wasn’t particularly enamoured of Shakespeare. Above all, he detested the chaplain, whom he suspected of an unnatural interest in the smaller boys.

  ‘How about getting a job then? Temporary, sort of. When it’s blown over I can let you know.’

  ‘I thought of joining the Foreign Legion.’

  ‘I wouldn’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘The conditions are supposed to be terrible.’

  ‘Perhaps I could go to sea?’

  ‘Same difference. But weekly boats go from Portsmouth.’

  ‘What are weekly boats?’

  ‘Coasters. Ply round the coast. Short trips. Portsmouth to Bristol. Perhaps to London. London to Tyneside. That sort of thing. You could sign off after a week and see what the situation is. If it’s still a bit warm round here, you could sign on for another week.’

  ‘It’s an idea.’

  ‘Better have another beer. It’ll give you backbone.’ Sam grinned. ‘If it was me, I’d go home, take the hammering and call it quits.’

  ‘Uncle Egg’s got a shotgun.’

  ‘He’ll never use it.’

  ‘What about Maurice?’

  ‘You could wipe the floor with him.’

  ‘I’m not a fighter, Sam.’

  ‘Then it’s time you was. Especially if you’re going to sea. Everybody needs a good fight under his belt before he settles down, and everybody’s a fighter when he has to be. All you need to know is how to set about it.’

  ‘How do you set about it?’

  ‘For a start, you don’t think of fighting fair like they teach you at school. None of
this stiff upper lip and straight left stuff. Maurice is flabby. He smokes too much and I’ve seen him in the pub swilling beer with that Barney Scholes-Dever from the Manor.’

  ‘So what do I do?’

  ‘Don’t give him a chance. Not even to square up. As soon as he says “Go” – or even before – rush him. Use your feet to get his shins and the top of your head to get his nose. That’ll daze him. After that, keep him back-pedalling. If he cops you one, don’t for God’s sake stop to draw breath. Forget it and keep going.’

  Sam appeared again the next evening, bringing with him a kitbag. ‘If you’re going to sea,’ he said, ‘you’ll need something warmer than what you’ve got on. There’s a jersey in here, some rubber boots and a pair of new dungarees. There’s also an old oilskin and a sou’wester and some warm socks.’

  ‘Whose are they?’

  ‘Mine, o’ course. I heard, by the way, that there’s a weekly going from Portsmouth on Saturday night. Ask at the pub across the road from the docks. That’s where the skipper drinks. He’ll listen because it’s never easy to make up numbers on weekly boats.’

  ‘Thanks, Sam. I’ll never forget you.’

  ‘Don’t talk daft. There’s another thing: Gussie said she’d be near the Three Eels at eight o’clock. She wants to say goodbye.’

  ‘Tell her to tell Georgina to come.’

  ‘She prefers to come on her own. I think she’s stuck on you.’

  ‘She’s only a kid.’

  ‘She won’t always be a kid,’ he said. ‘And I wouldn’t mind being her old man’s curate when she grows up a bit.’

  ‘Why not Georgina?’

  ‘She’s got her eye on Barney Scholes-Dever. He’s got more money than you. Meantime, I have to see Alice. She has to be home by half-past ten. She’s got that kind of Ma.’

  Augusta was on her bicycle, looking nervous.

  ‘I can’t stay long,’ she said.

  ‘Why wouldn’t Georgina come?’

  ‘She said she was busy. Mother thinks I’m visiting Dulcie Quinton about going back to school. If I’m seen with you I’ll be in trouble. I’ve raised another pound. Aunt Grace gave me two pounds for going back to school. You can have one of them.’