Bill and The Mary Ann Shaughnessy Read online

  When they all laughed, Bill, who had been sitting quietly by Malcolm’s feet, dived away and raced in a circle around the trees.

  ‘What’s struck him?’ asked Mr Harrison, as he watched the tufts of grass flying from Bill’s rear paws.

  ‘Bill! Bill! Here! Come! Stay! Bill! Bill!’ As Malcolm yelled at Bill, Jonathan said on a sigh, ‘Oh, it’s his way of laughing, sir. If we all laugh together he does that; and when it happens in the house…’ He left the sentence unfinished and Mr Harrison chuckled and said, ‘Yes, I see what you mean.’

  Suddenly pulling himself to a standstill, Bill stood panting for a moment, his broad chest pumping in and out; then quite sedately he walked towards the group, his mouth open and his tongue dripping saliva.

  ‘Has he been on a boat before?’ asked Mr Harrison, looking down at Bill, and Malcolm replied, ‘No, sir, never.’

  ‘Get aboard, Joe,’ said Jonathan now, ‘and I’ll hand him to you. And mind, hang on to him.’

  ‘Hang on to him, you say,’ said Joe in a voice that was distinctly different from Jonathan’s and Malcolm’s, and even Mr Harrison’s, because of its North-country inflection. ‘What if he decides to jump overboard, does the order still hold good?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jonathan firmly. ‘Whatever he does you hang on to him until we get under way.’

  ‘Well, don’t forget you told me to. Come on, boy. Come on, boy.’ As Joe jumped into the cockpit and held his arms up for Bill, Mr Harrison said, ‘Now why don’t you let him jump aboard himself; he’ll have to do it.’

  ‘He won’t, sir; we’ve tried for the last half an hour to get him to jump. He’ll jump off but he won’t jump on.’

  ‘Well, in that case I think I’d keep him in the cabin until you get off. Mr Hawtrey gave you a trial trip, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Jonathan.

  ‘And you feel quite confident in taking her out?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I think I’ll be all right. I’ll be better after a little practice; there’ll be nothing to it tomorrow.’

  ‘Ah-ah! Don’t get too confident all at once. Anybody can steer a boat when there’s nothing fore or aft, or to port or starboard, but you’ll meet quite a lot of obstacles on the river, and so remember what I’ve told you.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll remember. And thank you very much, you’ve been very kind.’

  ‘Oh, that’s nothing. Now you all get aboard and I’ll hold your stern until you get her bows out, just in case you should touch the boat alongside there.’

  Malcolm pursed his lips and made a face as he said, ‘Coo! We’d better not start off by doing that; she’s a marvellous-looking boat, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, she’s a very nice boat,’ said Mr Harrison. ‘It’s the first time I’ve seen her down this way. She’s seagoing and must have come round from Lowestoft.’

  ‘And he looks like a real captain,’ said Malcolm under his breath now as they turned their gaze to a man in a peak cap, blue brass-buttoned coat and white duck trousers, who had just come up on deck.

  ‘Yes, he does, doesn’t he?’ Mr Harrison was whispering back and laughing. ‘But you know the saying, it takes more than a peak cap to ride a storm.’ He pushed at Malcolm, and Malcolm grinned at him. Then, seeing that Jonathan was waiting impatiently for him to get aboard, he dropped down into the cockpit and Jonathan, having followed, switched on the petrol, then started her up and took the wheel.

  When the bow rope had been neatly coiled on the foredeck Jonathan swung the bows gently past the stern of the big white boat ahead, and made for the middle of the river.

  ‘All right?’ Mr Harrison’s voice shouted now. ‘Away you go! But take it gently at first, and remember what I’ve told you.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Goodbye, Mr Harrison,’ Malcolm called. And Joe’s muffled shout came from the cabin, ‘Ta-ra, Mr Harrison!’

  Jonathan too called, ‘Goodbye, Mr Harrison. And thank you once again.’ But he did not look at the old man, for his whole attention was centred at the moment on his steering.

  Then they were in the middle of the river and under way, and as they neared the gasworks Joe shouted from the cabin, ‘Can I come out now, he’s going mad?’

  ‘Wait till we get a little further on,’ Jonathan called back.

  ‘He’ll have the place torn to bits, mind I’m tellin’ you.’

  ‘Oh, come on then,’ called Jonathan, and the next moment Bill came into the cockpit knocking Malcolm flying over the engine box. ‘Grab him!’ cried Jonathan as he saw Bill make a lightning jump for the locker that formed a step on the starboard side of the boat. But there was no need to grab him for Bill didn’t jump overboard; instead his head hanging over the gunwale he looked down at the frothing waves arrowing from the bows. He looked at them for quite a minute before turning his ugly scarred face round to the boys, and such was the expression on it that they were forced to laugh.

  ‘He’s flabbergasted,’ said Joe.

  ‘If it’ll keep him quiet let’s pray he’ll remain flabbergasted,’ said Malcolm.

  They had now come up with a mass of swans forming a white sheet across the river, and not one of them seemed disposed to move until Bill let out a series of excited barks. But when two of the swans, keeping pace with the boat, hissed up at him, he sat back on his haunches in surprise, and again turned his gaze to the boys as if to ask them what they thought of that.

  ‘When do I take her?’ asked Joe, now thrusting his thin face in front of Malcolm and towards Jonathan.

  ‘I thought we’d settled that,’ said Jonathan. ‘You can have a turn at her when we get through the locks.’

  ‘Locks! Both of them?’ said Joe on a high note.

  ‘Both of them,’ said Jonathan flatly. ‘Remember what Mr Harrison said.’

  ‘Oh, I think he’s an old duffer,’ said Joe. ‘I bet he talks like that to everybody. It’s nothing really taking a motor cruiser out. It isn’t like a sailing boat; anybody can work these. It tells you that in the catalogues.’

  Malcolm gave Joe a sly dig in the ribs, and accompanied it by a warning glance. The glance said, don’t get Jonathan’s back up.

  Malcolm liked Joe. He was different from any other of his friends. He was funny and made you laugh, and he was kind and willing to share anything he had, but he had the unfortunate knack of getting people’s backs up with the things he said, and he wouldn’t take a hint. He went into the attack again, saying, ‘You know, I think we should get a sort of rota out, turn an’ turn about. What d’you say?’

  Jonathan said, ‘I say shut up.’ Then after a pause he added, on a laugh, ‘But I think you’re right about a rota. We’ll all have to muck in with the work so until we get through the locks we’ll just make your job the easy one of seeing to Bill there.’

  ‘Aw, go on.’ Joe slapped his hand at Jonathan and cast a disdainful glance on Bill, where he was lying on the locker, his head on his paws, his little eyes darting from one to the other, waiting for a sign or an inflection of the voice that he could take as an order. And Joe cried, ‘I had him when we were leaving, that was enough. Let’s be fair, turn an’ turn about with him an’ all.’

  ‘He’s in your charge, Joe, until we get through the locks. So that’s settled.’

  ‘Heck!’ said Joe. ‘It’s victimisation, that’s what it is.’

  Jonathan had to look over the side of the boat so that the others wouldn’t see him smiling. It was hard to look at and listen to Joe and not laugh, but Joe only needed a little encouragement and then anything could happen. He was like Bill in a way.

  Inwardly Jonathan was a little perturbed about getting through the locks ahead. From the conversation he’d had on the phone with his uncle he had gathered that there always seemed to be a breeze blowing across Baitsbite, the first lock, and his uncle had advised him to turn at right angles and steer straight from the middle of the river to the bank, then to turn her sharply to starboard so that the stern would swing close to the bank. This, he had said, would give the boys ti
me to get off and keep her steady with the bow and stern ropes.

  All these instructions were passing through Jonathan’s mind when, half an hour later, on rounding a bend, he saw the lock. His stomach muscles contracting just a little, he said in a clipped tone, which he imagined the captain of a liner might use when giving his orders, ‘Immediately I get her bows near the bank, Malcolm, you jump off and play out the rope…Joe, you get onto the aft deck now and have the rope ready, but see it’s well fastened to the cleat first. And when her stern comes round jump onto the bank and hang on to the rope…Now mind’—he cast a quick glance towards Joe and nodded sternly at him—‘you hang on to her. The back’s the hardest to hold, so remember.’

  ‘Aye, aye, sir.’ Laughing, Joe ran through the cabin, and his running was the signal for Bill to jump off the seat and follow him.

  As the sound of a scuffle came to Jonathan he yelled, ‘Stop acting the goat, Joe! Shut the door on him.’

  ‘Get in! Stop going daft. Get in will you!’ Joe’s voice came through the cabin, ending sarcastically, ‘Shut the door on him, he says, just like that!’ There followed a bang, and the next minute Bill had re-entered the cockpit and jumped onto the driving seat behind Jonathan, who was standing gripping the wheel as he turned the boat away from the middle of the river and the roar of the weir, which lay to his right, and headed her bows for the bank.

  A sense of achievement came to Jonathan when he watched Malcolm jump smartly from the high bows onto the bank, the long rope loosely running through his hands. So far, so good. But lost in the thrill of the moment, he was just that fraction too late in swinging the wheel to starboard, and The Mary Ann, not having enough way on her and caught by the wind blowing downriver, seemed bent on presenting her stern to the lock gates. Just in time, Jonathan, remembering how Mr Hawtrey had reversed her, pressed the lever hard back and pushed up the throttle to its full extent, shouting as he did so, ‘Slacken the rope, Malcolm, I’m reversing her!’

  Malcolm slackened the rope; then Jonathan, putting the lever into the forward position, again brought her bows to the bank, but this time he swung the wheel round to starboard almost as she touched. And now he actually felt her answering his orders. Glancing over the side he saw the stern about a yard from the bank and Joe in the act of jumping off, and when he saw him land on the bank he again thought, so far so good. But once more he had counted without the wind and the fact that The Mary Ann Shaughnessy, being single-engined and with her long shaft running through to the propeller, was inclined to skip to starboard at the slightest beckoning of a breeze. It was with irritation, mixed with consternation, that Jonathan now saw the stern moving rapidly from the bank and, what was more, that fool of a Joe obeying his order to the letter.

  Being fundamentally of a tenacious character, Joe imagined that his strength could hold the boat. The next minute he was proved wrong, and with a yell he hit the water.

  ‘Jonathan! Jonathan! He’s fallen in!’ Malcolm shouted, his laughter lost now in concern.

  Jonathan, leaning over the side, saw Joe’s head and arms emerging from some reeds near the bank and he bawled at him, ‘Get out of that quick in case her stern comes in again.’

  But it was slowly that Joe pulled himself up onto the bank again, and he was still standing spluttering and speechless when Malcolm called excitedly, ‘The lock-keeper’s opening the gates, Jonathan! He’s opening the gates!’ And Jonathan, aiming to keep calm, cried, ‘Well, we can’t get in unless he does, can we?’

  When the man on the lockside waved them in Jonathan called to Malcolm, ‘Throw the rope on board and get along there, both of you.’

  Backing The Mary Ann into the middle of the river again, Jonathan straightened her out and the next minute she was making for the lock, her bows wavering slightly as Jonathan tried to guide her dead centre, while his mind repeated the instructions…plenty of way on her until you pass the gates, then sharp into reverse; then into neutral, but leave the engine running. He swallowed deeply twice as her bows passed the big black wooden gates and when he saw the other two gates looming up only a short distance away he felt a wave of panic run through him, but automatically he followed the instructions and his charge came to rest in the lock with only a slight loss of dignity as her bows hit one lock wall while her trim stern bumped the other.

  ‘Hold her by the deck rail.’ The lock-keeper’s unemotional voice gave the order to the boys, and they grabbed the rail and slowly drew her towards the left-hand side wall.

  Bill, who had been standing with quivering body on the far locker during all this, now saw his chance of freedom, if only for a short while, so with one long spring he made the lock quay.

  ‘Oh no, you don’t!’ Hauling him aboard again, Jonathan dumped him on the far locker and admonished him sternly. ‘Now I’m telling you: stay! STAY!’

  The lock-keeper came down the quay again and, surveying Joe, with a rueful twist to his lips said, ‘You’re wet, aren’t you?’

  Feeling very uncomfortable and shivering now, Joe glanced up at the burly figure and after a moment he remarked caustically, ‘No, I’m not wet, I’m just sweatin’.’

  The lock-keeper narrowed his eyes at him, then walked on, with the remark, ‘You’ll learn.’ And Joe, looking along to Malcolm, who was shaking with laughter, hissed, ‘Learn, he said. Not if I know it. Hang on to the rope I was told, and don’t leave go.’

  Jonathan put his head above the hatchway, and he, too, was laughing as he looked towards Joe. Then glancing towards the quay to where there was a little store with soft drinks advertised, he said, ‘What about a bottle or two?’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Malcolm, and at this Jonathan said ‘Well, slip across and get them. I’ll hold her until you get back.’

  As Malcolm stepped onto the quay Jonathan turned round to Bill and said firmly, ‘Stay!’ And Bill stayed. He stayed until he saw a lady with four legs descending a short flight of steps in the distance. She was a boxer and it was evident that she had only recently had a family. The perfume of her came to Bill and brought him to his hind legs with his front paws on the gunwale, and there he stood in lip-dripping admiration as he watched her come steadily towards him.

  At heart Bill was a gentleman, and all members of the opposite sex, no matter what breed or type, aroused in him chivalrous admiration. Following the pattern of his usual approach that such meetings demanded, he said ‘How do you do?’ with a number of quick sniffs and the lady, still some distance away, responded graciously…at least she had all intentions of so doing, but at that moment the quiver of excitement that was filling Bill’s body turned, in a flash, to a feeling not only of apprehension but of real fear. The sound that caused this was equivalent in his mind to a hundred lavatory chains being pulled at once. But he hadn’t time to ascertain the cause because before his petrified gaze he actually saw the lady rising in the air. It wasn’t until he realised that the lady was stationary and that it was himself who was sinking that he threw aside all gentlemanly restraint to the wind, and after making one fruitless effort to jump the ever-widening space between the gunwale and the top of the quay, he turned and made a wild dash through the cabin to the aft deck, and there the same sight met his gaze, only worse. The water was disappearing with a deafening roar and he and the boat were sinking, down, down, down. Again he crashed through the cabin and into the cockpit and now he was forced to cry for help. He did it in a series of wild, ear-splitting howls before trying to make his escape through one of the cabin windows. This being fruitless, he stared for a sickening moment at the black walls of the lock, running with water and slime. Then swiftly returning to the cockpit, and seeing Jonathan dropping down onto the locker, he hurled himself at him and begged for protection.

  ‘Stop it, you mad fool! Get down! Get in there. Stop it! Stop it!’ When at last, after a struggle, Jonathan had him safely locked in the cabin, Joe shouted down from the quay, ‘Well, how did you like it? You wouldn’t believe me, would you?’

  The lock-keeper w
as pressing his back against the huge lever now which was opening half of the fore lockgates, then with his long pole he pushed the other half back into place, after which he called, ‘Come on. Come on.’

  ‘Get aboard!’ shouted Jonathan, and when the boys had lowered themselves down from the roof onto the narrow deck, he opened the throttle and gently eased the boat forward. And then they were through and into the river again, and for a moment they were quiet; the whole boat was quiet because now there was no sound of rampaging from the cabin.

  Jonathan straightened himself, then inhaling deeply he seated himself before the wheel, and casting a glance at Joe, said, ‘I wouldn’t stand there, I’d get those things off.’

  ‘Why should I?’ said Joe. ‘We’ve got another lock to go through, haven’t we?’

  They all laughed and when Joe, saying, ‘Wait for it!’, opened the door into the cabin Bill shot between his legs, raced round the engine and back again, and after looking from Jonathan to Malcolm jumped up onto the side locker and lay down panting.

  ‘You should just see this place,’ called Joe. ‘Coo! Take good care of The Mary Ann Shaughnessy your uncle said. If he wanted that done he should have got someone to take care of him. There won’t be anything left inside by the time we get back.’

  ‘And that’s what I’m afraid of,’ said Jonathan under his breath to Malcolm, and Malcolm, looking lovingly at Bill, said, ‘Give him a chance, it’s all strange to him. He’ll settle down, you’ll see. It’s strange to us an’ all. You must admit, Jonathan, it is.’

  Jonathan didn’t admit it, not openly, but inside himself he knew that it was very strange indeed, perhaps more strange to him than to the other two because he felt responsible. He was in charge of The Mary Ann Shaughnessy and for a moment, but only for a moment, he wished he wasn’t.