Chapter Ten

Jake woke refreshed and ready for any challenge the day might present. It was bound to be a busy day: they were due to set sail on the early tide, which (fortunately for those who had drunk more deeply the night before) was not at some ridiculous pre-dawn hour.

As he sluiced his face and neck with cold water to chase away the last traces of sleep, he found himself preoccupied with the mysterious flame-haired female Druid, Medb.

Did she even like him, he wondered

"Bet she's at least, what? five, six years older than me anyway" he thought, and immediately stopped, scowling at his reflection in the mirror tiles.

“She's two years older than I judge you to be: and as for 'liking you', you could try asking if you really, really want to know!”

Jake was grateful that he and Tigertail were alone below decks in their sleeping quarters. He felt himself flush with embarrassment: he’d forgotten completely that his thoughts weren’t always completely shielded from his feline sidekick.

A light chuckle issued from the corner where Tigertail stood and stretched as only a cat can, shivering with pleasure from tailtip to whisker.

“Her name ..... Maev, or Meev –  you seem to have some odd ways of writing the sounds of your words!”

“How d’you know that?”

“I’ve seen how you write your sounds...... ”

“No! I mean how d’you know her name? ”

“Why d’you think her mindshield is any better than yours?”

Jake hesitated: this answer was fair enough, he supposed, but it was unexpected.

“As her language isn’t even English, the chances of the way she spells her name being even close to the way it sounds are probably pretty remote!” he admitted.

“The language they use in Wales – and especially on an island such as Ynys Môn! – is supposed to resemble what's spoken in Eire and Scotland, and one or two other places: though I’ve never actually heard anyone speak it, until yesterday. And I still don’t understand why I can understand their speech, while I have my hand on your back!” he added, frowning at the thought.

“I can’t explain it, either!” Tigertail responded “but I just ‘heard’ her name while she was telling us what her leader wanted us to know. There are some things it’s difficult to mask:  and being such a personal thing, names are almost impossible to hide!”

Quiggins came bustling into the room and looked pleased to see Jake up, dressed, and ready for action.

“You made a good impression last night” he said, adding “ ... and I do mean, both of you! But today’s another matter, and we’re going to be busy for a while ....we'd best get down to the galley and seat ourselves, boy! ”

A sudden thought struck Jake.

"Did you know, Cap'n Johnny wants …………..?"

" …….. both of us at his table during breakfast? Yes, I got told last night, and I gather you got a personal invitation from Cap'n Johnny hisself! Now that was impressive! It were him as told you, of course? Because these sort of things don't just 'happen', you know: he must have some sort of a plan, to call a meeting like this!"

In the galley a small table, somewhat lower than the main tranche, had been placed at one end. A low chair and (almost as an afterthought) a small three-legged stool stood at one side. Jake realised that if he tried to sit at the main table, he would have to struggle to reach the plates of food (or even the chairs themselves). The galley had most definitely been designed and fitted to accommodate large, well-muscled (and hungry) adult males. The smaller scale furniture, he realised, could only have been provided for him and – presumably – Tigertail. Instinctively he realised that this small gesture was typical of the Captain's thoughtfulness.

Johnny Dupl'eau, with the perfect timing of a professional thespian, chose this moment to make his entrance, studiously avoiding making eye contact with Jake as he strode the length of the room. Crew at the Lower Tables and Officers at the High Table stood patiently by their chairs and waited for their Captain to reach his place and nod permission before seating themselves. The scraping of chair legs across the floor was a signal for the half-doors from the kitchen to burst open as a dozen or more cooks clad in fairly clean white aprons rushed to serve everyone while the food was hot.

A young 'prentice cook strode forwards with a confident, self-important look on his face. It wasn't until he began filling Jake's plate with rashers of bacon and plump sausage, topping it off with a perfect fried egg that Jake recognised him.

"Jimbo! I see you got the job you really wanted, then! Well done!" One of the smaller boys amongst the 'prentices, Jimbo had always been frustrated that he could never compete with the bigger lads in shinning up masts or climbing the rigging to carry out running repairs. He had, however, once confided to Jake that he thought he could be a decent cook, given the chance. He grinned, and nodded.

"Speak to you later!" he hissed, as he plonked something which smelled attractive into Tigertail's bowl, and dashed off to serve the next officer at that end of the table.

There was very little of the usual backchat and banter during the meal: everyone was fully aware that Cap'n Johnny was going to make an important announcement as son as they finished eating, and the meal was quickly polished off.

Johnny Dupl'eau rose and slowly plucked a brass watch from his waistcoat pocket. This quickly stilled the few quiet remarks which crew members had been making as they finished eating, and in the near silence which ensued the double chime of the ship's bell could be heard clearly.

Cap'n Johnny consulted his watch, and nodded as if in agreement.

"Two bells o' th' forenoon watch – or nine a.m. for any landlubbers present!" he said, with his trademark disarming grin. As one the crew chuckled quietly and waited eagerly to hear what he had to tell them.

"For the benefit of those who weren't at the meeting with our friends from Ynys Môn last night, and who've probably heard all sorts of grog-fuelled tall tales from someone else, the facts of the matter are as follows…………. "

He went on to describe in a few, unvarnished words, the magical-seeming communications breakthrough they had achieved thanks to the language skills of Jake and Tigertail.

"   …….. and as a direct result, we'll sail for Liverpool with a full and exact list of all the trade goods they require, and a promise of full and speedy payment on our return! I still don't understand quite how Jake and his cat managed to get through to them we've been trying to learn something of their jawcracker language for years, haven't we, Sam?"

The bo'sun graciously " ….  'llowed that it were so"

Cap'n Johnny continued:

"I know that we've saved at least a fourteen day standing idle at anchor, and our profits from this trip will be considerably better than we expected. So, Gentlemen! Our thanks to Jake and Tigertail!"

Deafening cheers accompanied the raised mugs and glasses (containing, at that time of the morning, a mixture of alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks), and Jake was certain that Tigertail blushed just as deeply embarrassed as himself but managed to conceal the fact beneath his luxuriant fur. He received the accolades in typically feline fashion by sitting straight and washing an elegant front paw.

"Now: I want to see all hands on deck!"

Cap'n Johnny could change from courteous charmer to outright slave driver at the drop of a hat. His voice hardened appreciably as he began barking pre-sail orders which were clearly heard despite the thunderous scraping of chair legs as the crew rose to go about their appointed tasks. Within minutes the galley was all but empty and the kitchen staff emerged to tidy away the remains of the meal. A raised eyebrow and a come-hither gesture had Jake hurrying to follow the Captain up to the wheelhouse as they prepared to set a course for their home port.

****

There was a favourable breeze, and a following tide. The Orders of the Day, therefore, were that there would be no set meal times, and that crew members were expected to avail themselves of a "self-service" buffet table which ran the full length of the galley.

Tables of cooked meats and cheeses could be had, and a limited range of warm items were stacked close to the scullery door, leftovers from the barbecue. These shrank gradually during the course of the morning as everyone served themselves in passing.

Below decks, Quiggins had assumed an air of authority Jake hadn’t seen in him before, making certain that the teams were settled comfortably on the newly-installed benches.

Rufe had been chosen to strike the beat. He sat with a tambour at the ready on a high stool in the bows, and waved a greeting as Jake entered.

“We’ll pull away under part-sail, as usual” Quiggins said, crisply “and we’ll stay on sail power until we’re a comfortable distance offshore, to allow for a range of manoeuvres. I’ll need you on deck, Jake: you’ll be my ‘eyes’ during the test runs.”

He pointed to a length of tubing which ran along a bulkhead and disappeared into the beams which supported the main deck.

“There’s a bo’suns whistle on a lanyard at t’other end. I’ve worked out a simple code of long and short whistles you can use to turn us port or starboard ..... ”

He went through the chart with Jake, scribbling last-minute notes in one of the many notebooks he always seemed to carry around. Not for the first time, Jake wondered how Quiggins managed to remember which notebook he’d scribbled a particular note in, and how he managed to make any sense of his atrocious handwriting. Perhaps he does it deliberately, to make it harder for anyone else to decode his ideas, he thought.

Signal chart in hand, Jake shot off up the gangway to emerge on deck, and followed the brass tubing to a newly installed piece of deck furniture. It resembled a feeding table for birds, and was about as high as Jake’s shoulder. The bo’suns whistle hung on a peg, alongside something Jake recognised as a ‘speaker’ or trumpet such as he’d seen used on early wind-up gramophone players .......  in museums ... ? He stood still for a moment and shook his head. Why had this word popped unbidden into his consciousness? He knew it was the ‘right’ word for a place where you went to see “old” things – but how did he know about such places? Was this another ‘flash’ of memory from his as-yet still to be remembered earlier life?

He grabbed the whistle from its hook and sent a pre-arranged “test” signal down to the engine room. Mr. Quiggins responded immediately with a counter signal confirming that he had been heard. Seconds later the order was given to weigh anchor, and Stormsong eased away from her moorings.

The island’s coastline was reduced to a line of surf on the horizon when Quiggins decided they were far enough from land to conduct sea trials. Despite not having had even the most basic navigation classes, Jake somehow knew from somewhere that this meant they were about three miles from land. Once again, the suggestion of unreality hovered around the edges of his mind. Where did this random store of knowledge come from? Why was he the only ’prentice on board who’d had any schooling of any sort? And why couldn’t he remember where or when he’d come by it? He sighed. More questions, and still no sign of where he might find an answer to any of them .......... Giving the whole thorn-bush a mental kick, he turned his attention to the practicalities of the task he’d been set. For the rest of the day he was constantly on the run from fo’c’sle to stern, shinning each of the ship’s three main masts sometimes to get a clearer view of the horizon. The sun swept down to kiss the waves in the west, and Jake realised with a sudden start that he hadn’t eaten since his last raid on the buffet table, about mid-morning. He was about to signal belowdecks, thinking that it was possible Mr. Quiggins hadn’t realised how quickly time had passed, when the Chief Engineer suddenly popped his head over the hatchway’s coaming for the first and only time all day, as far as Jake could recall.

“Stand down, Jake: we’ll set a sea-anchor and hold our position overnight. That way we can save a couple of hours travelling time tomorrow morning!”

Quiggins stood at the entrance to the engineroom as the two duty teams of weary pirates (not the same teams as had started the day) filed out, mopping their brows and stretching stiff muscles. He had a personal word of thanks and encouragement for each of them, and they reacted with grateful nods and smiles. Jake thought they couldn’t have been more pleased if he had presented each of them with a double portion of overproof rum.

“Jake, remind me to ask Captain Johnny to double the rum ration for every man who’s done a turn on the pistons today!”

Jake looked at Quiggins with a mixture of wonder and respect. Was the Engineer beginning to ‘tune in’ to his thoughts now? He sincerely hoped not: there were still some thoughts he wanted to be certain remained his own private business ......... !

“Cat got your tongue?”

Quiggins sounded a touch irritated, and Jake hurried to respond as soon as he judged the last of the muscled pirates was out of earshot.

“Aye-aye, Mr. Quiggins: request to Cap’n Johnny for double rations.”

Quiggins looked at him askance.

“No, I can’t get inside your head, young Jake: but you can be sure I’ll be honest with you and let you know if that changes! But I remember what you said last time I guessed what you were about to tell me. Don’t worry! That secret will remain between us, unless you tell me otherwise!"

" This time it was easy to work out why you didn’t reply straight away, and nobody could fault you for the amount of work you’ve got through today! It would have been impossible for me and my tired old legs to cope with running up and down the companionway all day long, if I hadn’t had you to be my eyes and ears on deck! How would you like to have some proper lessons in navigation, map reading and plotting? I believe you’ve a natural talent for the more technical side of things – though I must say you’re a lot younger than any other Midshipman I’ve ever trained! You interested?”

Jake merely nodded, not trusting himself to speak. This was more than he had dreamed of being offered, and he wondered if things were beginning to spiral out of his control?

At the same time, he remembered how he’d instinctively known the approximate distance from the shore without being told (or knowing how he knew). Perhaps some formal lessons would give him a hint about his past .........