The Wreck Of The Mary Deare

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Depends on the wind and the sea and that bulkhead. If the bulkhead holds, then we’ll be driven on to the Minkies sometime during the night.’ The kettle had boiled and he was busy making the coffee. Now that the primus was out, the pantry seemed full of the noise of the gale and the straining of the ship.

‘Suppose we got the pumps working, couldn’t we clear that for’ard hold of water? There was a good deal of pressure in the boiler when I was down there and I stoked before I left.’

‘You know damn’ well we can’t clear that hold with the hatch cover gone.’

‘Not if we ran her off before the wind. If we got the engines going …’

‘Look,’ he said. ‘This old ship will be weeping water at every plate joint throughout her whole length now. If we ran the pumps flat out, they’d do no more than hold the water that’s seeping into her, let alone clear Number One hold. Anyway, how much steam do you think you need to run the engines and the pumps as well?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Do you?’

‘No. But I’m damn’ sure it would need more than one boiler; two at least. And if you think we could keep two boilers fired …’ He poured the coffee into tin mugs and stirred sugar in. ‘With one boiler we could have the engines going intermittently.’ He seemed to consider it, and then shook his head. ‘There wouldn’t be any point in it.’ He passed me one of the mugs. It was scalding hot.

‘Why not?’ I asked.

‘For one thing the wind’s westerly. Keeping her stern to the wind would mean every turn of the screw would be driving her straight towards the Minkies. Besides…’ His voice checked, ceased abruptly. He seemed to lose himself in some dark thought of his own, his black brows furrowed, his mouth a hard, bitter line. ‘Oh, to hell with it,’ he muttered and poured the rest of his rum into his coffee. ‘I know where there’s some more liquor on board. We can get tight, and then who the hell cares?’

I stared at him, my bowels suddenly hot with anger. ‘Is that what happened last time? Did you just give up? Is that what it was?’

‘Last time?’ He was frozen to sudden immobility, the mug of coffee halfway to his lips. ‘What do you mean — last time?’

‘The Belle Isle,’ I said. ‘Did she go down because …’ I stopped there, checked by the sudden, blazing fury in his eyes.

‘So you know about the Belle Isle. What else do you know about me?’ His voice was shrill, uncontrolled and violent. ‘Do you know I was on the beach for damn’ near a year? A year in Aden! And this … This first ship in a year, and it has to be the Mary Deare, a floating bloody scrap-heap with a drunken skipper who goes and dies on me and an owner …’ He pushed his hand up through his hair, staring through me, back into the past. ‘Fate can play dirty tricks, once she’s got her claws into you.’ And then, after a pause: ‘If I could keep this old tramp afloat…’ He shook his head. ‘You wouldn’t think it would happen to a man twice, would you,’ he murmured. ‘Twice! I was too young and green to know what they were up to when I got command of the Belle Isle. But I knew the smell of it this time. Well, they got the wrong man.’ He gave a bitter laugh. ‘A lot of good it did me, being honest. I got her up through the Bay. God knows how I did it, but I did. And round Ushant I headed for Southampton.’ His eyes focused on me again and he said, ‘Well, now I don’t care any more. You can’t go on fighting a thing. This gale has finished me. I know when I’m licked.’

I didn’t say anything, for there wasn’t anything I could say. It had to come from him. I couldn’t drive him. I knew that. I just sat there and waited and the silence tightened between us. He finished his coffee and put the mug down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The silence became unbearable, full of the death-struggle sounds of the ship. ‘Better come and have a drink,’ he said, his voice tense.

I didn’t move. I didn’t say anything either.

‘It’s tough on you, but you didn’t have to come on board, did you?’ He stared at me angrily. ‘What the hell do you think I can do?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘You’re the captain. It’s for you to give the orders.’