Voices on the Wind - Assault

Stevie felt as weary as his ship that morning — and much older than his 25 years of age. He was wearing seaboots, a Duffel coat, and a scarf around his neck, as he manned the foredeck, struggling with the steam winch. The gears were clogged with a mixture of frozen grit, salt, and solidified lubricant, making the winch groan, shudder, or stall under the strain of a heavy mooring hawser. Although made of hemp, the hawser was frozen as hard as steel, kinked and looped in grotesque shapes from being stowed for the voyage. It had proved so unmanageable that Stevie had resorted to blowtorches to melt some of the gunk encasing it. The bosun and two deck hands worked together for half an hour before the hawser became pliable enough to be secured. Throughout the procedure, the winch stuttered, emitting a high-pitched wail of protest, and the deck trembled.

Only after the winch had been shut down, silencing the screeching and shuddering, did Stevie realise Sommers was trying to attract his attention. Using a megaphone, the Captain called from the bridge wing, “Mr Mackay! The ambulance is here! See that the injured men get ashore.”

Stevie answered by raising his right hand. A glance at the dock revealed a sagging, WWI-vintage ambulance parked beside their gangway. Well, that was good news! He would feel much better once his three patients were off his hands. Stepping over the coils of rope still littering the foredeck, he made his way aft towards the small, improvised sickbay, where Derry had organised stretchers and bearers. Stevie led them across the gangway and approached the two civilian orderlies. As the last of the three injured sailors was loaded onto the ambulance, Stevie heard the assistant cook exclaim, “Holy Mother of God! I never thought I’d see them Liver birds again! It’s grand to be back on the Mersey — even in the rain.” The doors clanged shut behind him, the ambulance crew mounted their aging steed, and it swayed over the crumbling concrete to the exit.

Stevie’s next job would be to pay off the crew. Glancing towards the boat-deck, he saw a long queue had already formed before the door of the saloon. The men were anxious to sign-off after this last trip. Furthermore, since the Company had arranged for Clan Sinclair to go into dry-dock for a boiler clean and additional repairs and maintenance to the hull and rudder, she’d be in port about four weeks with only a skeleton crew to oversee the work. Most sailors couldn’t go for three or four weeks without pay, so they’d report to the Shipping Pool when they ran out of cash and ship out on the next available ship. Clan Sinclair would have to find a completely new crew when ready to put to sea again and that meant forging new relationships and navigating new human landscapes.

But that was his future headache, Stevie reminded himself. For now, the sooner he got the crew signed off, the sooner he’d be free to go ashore himself. The moment they’d received the news about the refit, the Second Officer, Mr Holt, had requested — and received — three weeks’ leave to get married. This meant the remaining deck officers had to share the shoreside duty. Sommers had agreed that each could have ten days leave as long as one or other of them was on board.

Stevie was determined to spend his ten days with Rosemary. She’d want him to take her home to his parents, but he hoped to distract her with a trip to London. Rosemary would like the shops and the shows, the nightclubs and dance halls, he told himself. Stevie didn’t care where they went, as long as they had time to themselves. The sooner he finished signing off the crew, the sooner he could ring Rosemary, the sooner they could meet up, the sooner they would be in each other’s arms….

Stevie took the ladder up to the boat deck, squeezed past the waiting men and slipped into the saloon. He hung his Duffel coat on a hook by the door, removed his white cap with the tarnished braid, and pulled the leather-bound volume with the Ship’s Articles from the shelf. Seating himself behind the table, he took a moment to light up his pipe, and then he called for the first man to enter.

Less than two hours later, a total of 43 men had signed off, leaving just eleven on board. Stevie set to work tallying the accounts, his very last task before he would be free to go ashore. He had only just put the cashbox away in the safe, when the door banged open and Captain Sommers walked in. His heavy frown instantly unsettled Stevie. “Is something wrong, sir?”

“I’m afraid so.” Sommers paused, took a deep breath and then announced, “While you were dealing with putting the injured crewmen in the ambulance, Mr Granger submitted his resignation — from the company and indeed the Merchant Navy altogether. He says he will never set foot on a ship again.”

“My God!” Stevie muttered horrified. He saw again the way Davy had looked when he’d begged for help with his frostbite. He heard again the way he’d said he couldn’t take any more. Yet he had never thought it would come to this. On the contrary, Davy had seemed to get hold of himself after that night and performed his duties meticulously. True, he’d been withdrawn and incommunicative, but Stevie had put that down to pain and embarrassment. He’d been sure that once Davy reached port, he’d find his footing again. He’d pictured drinking and laughing together in the saloon, maybe even going out to dinner together. He’d been counting on Davy being here during the refit.

The next thought that hit him made Stevie exclaim in horror, “Has he forgotten he’ll be subject to conscription if he leaves the Merchant Navy!” As a Quaker, Stevie abhorred the thought of military service. “The Navy will snatch him up and he’ll at sea again before he knows what’s hit him.”

“He said he was going to volunteer for the coal mines,” Sommers replied.

“He was just being flippant! He hasn’t thought this through!”

“Very likely, and he’ll probably come to his senses, but in the meantime, with Mr Holt off to his nuptials, I’m afraid I need you to oversee the entire refit. Mr Richardson will have his hands full with the technical side of things. I need you to keep an eye on the paperwork.”

Stevie had seen it coming seconds before Sommers spoke. A refit brought a mound of accounting with it, and it was vitally important that nothing slipped through the cracks. At least one deck officer was needed to keep an eye on the workers, too. That’s why he and Davy had agreed to share the duty. To his captain, Stevie replied simply, “Of course, sir.”

“Right then, Mr Mackay. I’m off. I’ll be back about noon tomorrow. Take my advice and get some rest. You look half dead.”

“Yes, sir,” Stevie answered automatically. The exhaustion was there, but he couldn’t let it into his consciousness, not yet anyway, not until he was in Rosemary’s arms.