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Great Writing - Home > For Kids > Johnny D. - chapter 7
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For Children
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| Johnny D. - chapter 7 | |
| By Bagheera | ||||
| 31 March 2006 | ||||
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........ and to keep the "addicts" happy, here's Chapter 7. Buckle your swashes@ it's gonna be a bumpy ride (as Mae West ought to have said, if she'd been there!  Chapter Seven “What was that all about?” Quiggins was at best a social drinker, and he followed Jake and Tigertail from the Mess as soon as good manners might permit, pleading final engine preparations before sailing on an early morning tide. “It wasn’t planned: I’d no idea he was even i the room, and I certainly didn’t invite him to jump up and join in!” “But you really do have some ....... special understanding with the cat, it seems! Not that I didn’t believe you from the start!” he added, as Jake was on the point of protesting. “ ... but I’ve never seen anything like it, ever! D’you grow up in a Circus? Maybe as an animal trainer?” Seeing Jake’s expression cloud over, Quiggins put a friendly hand of consolation on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to .... you know, I should have remembered you’ve no clear recall of whatever happened before you came aboard” he finished, lamely. “But it was impressive!” he added, in a much brighter tone. “ ... and it’ll give the crew something to talk about for days to come: why, I’ll bet someone’s making up words to a rude song about it already! They’ve no doubt had enough to drink by now to be looking for some sort of bawdy ditty to bawl out!” A weak smile broke through Jake’s careworn expression: it wasn’t in his nature to be down in the dumps for very long. “That’s more like it!” said Quiggins approvingly, relieved to see his assistant recover his composure. “Now, if your feline companion will excuse us, I need your assistance with this new alignment I want to try in the engine room ....” He guided Jake towards the door separating them from the main engine room. Tigertail hopped onto a nearby coil of rope and started a major wash operation, for all the world an unremarkable, bog-standard ship’s cat once more. “Now, look at this!” Quiggins glanced briefly at a notepad, then stuffed it back into a bulging pocket. “If we get this just right, we’ll actually be able to sail across the wind, perhaps even totally against it if we’re lucky! Now, watch this!” Quiggins began to turn a large, ponderous key of sorts, almost as big as he was. “Don’t just stand there gawping, give me a hand!” he panted “ .... there’s a powerful spring behind that flange, lend me some of your muscle!” Even with both of them straining at it, winding the key wasn’t easy. At last, however, Quiggins grunted his satisfaction. “That should be enough!” He wiped a sheen of perspiration from his brow. “But what will it do?” Jake wanted to know. Quiggins beamed. It was perfectly obvious that this question was all he’d wanted to hear, giving him a chance to show off with his latest invention. “The spring we’ve just tightened will start a shaft spinning below decks when we release this lever.” He patted a large straight bar painted bright red and surrounded by Danger signs and exclamation marks (not many of the pirate crew could read). “When the shaft spins it will turn a ... device attached to our stern, a sort of a screw with curved edges which thrust the ship forwards as they spin. It means we won’t have to depend on which way the wind blows if we want to manoeuvre quickly at sea.” “And how will that help?” “We can cut across the thwarts of a ship: get in astern, where they can’t train cannon on us and take a pot-shot. If we cut in close enough we can actually steal their wind, leave them becalmed, dead in the water. We can literally take the wind out of their sails!” “But if we’re using this screw-whatever-it-is instead of sails .... “ “Think, Jake! We can be ready to spread sails at any time, and voilà! we get their wind and they’ve nowhere to run!” “We’d still need to spread an awful lot of sail in a hurry ..... ” Jake didn’t seem fully convinced. Quiggins looked at him in a curious manner. “You’re a strange one, thinking like that!” he mumbled, with more than a tinge of approval in his voice. “I’ve thought of that, too!” he continued “but I didn’t expect a young head like yours to figure it out for yourself! You know your letters; you’ve obviously had more than a little schooling and you can think for yourself! We just have to find out more about your background .... anyway!” he went on, briskly “ .... we simply run out bigger sails made of a superthin material I’ve ordered, and spread it on the spring-loaded yardarms I had fitted last week – oh, of course, you were on ‘shore leave’, you wouldn’t have known! In a way I suppose that makes you smarter yet, asking just the right question! I can see I’ll have to be careful what I say around you, or you’ll be pinching my ideas and trying to claim them as your own.... !” *** “If only we could crank it up some more, travel further on a single winding!” Jake felt frustrated. Their sea trials had gone smoothly enough, as far as using the shaft-driven motor was concerned. Even the loud, unnatural clanking noise it made was enough to disconcert many of the crew, and seemed likely to strike terror into any other crew on ships they chose to attack, as it would be something they had never heard before: and sailors are a superstitious lot at the best of times. “That’s true: we need greater range” admitted Quiggins. “But we’ve certainly got the edge on speed over the shorter distance – especially sailing across the wind!” Jake glanced at Tigertail, who was lying in a curious position; flat on his belly in front of Jakes feet. He looked over his shoulder at Jake, and began a most peculiar motion, pushing forward first his left front and hind paw at the same time, then repeating the movement with right front and back paws. Jake frowned thoughtfully for a few moments, then realised the significance of what he was seeing. “Look! Tigertail’s trying to tell us something!” After three days almost exclusively in the company of Jake and Tigertail, Quiggins no longer doubted that there was a special affinity between his young assistant and the cat. It had been obvious from the start that something special had bonded them, and he had seen too many instances of rapport between them to dismiss it all out of hand as mere coincidence. “Got it: look!” said Jake suddenly. Tigertail continued his odd, inching bellywriggle along the deck, shuffling steadily forwards with first his left, then his right flank. “I believe he’s suggesting we build a second engine: one port side, the other starboard!” “Twin shafts! We can prime one while the other’s running” chuckled Quiggins, scribbling furiously as he spoke, sketching and discarding one rough diagram after another until he had something which he considered both useable and possible to build and install without a major reconstruction of Stormsong’s hull and internal layout. Johnny Dupl’eau listened carefully to Quiggins’ idea and approved of it straight away. “Lay a course for Benllech Bay, on Ynys Môn, helmsman!” he ordered “ .... it’s time for that idle Chief Druid of theirs, Merthyr, to pay back a few of the favours he owes me!” The most important favour Johnny demanded was immediately and freely given: a deepwater anchorage in the sheltered bay, and the privacy to carry out the modifications Quiggins had planned without being disturbed or observed. Lookouts were posted round the clock for the three days they were anchored at Benllech, but not a single sail was seen on the horizon. This wasn’t really surprising: the nearest landfall would have been the shores of Erin to the North-west, or several thousand miles further in a westerly direction to the Americas. This particular stretch of the Atlantic Ocean was almost guaranteed to remain particularly empty of casual traffic for most of the year. Three days of trial and error fittings and adjustments were followed by two more days sailing back and forth, north to Mona’s Isle, south again to Ynys Môn, so the crew might get a feel for the new equipment they planned to use in their next raid. Space had been cleared below decks for teams of the biggest, strongest members of the crew to tighten the springs on the drive shafts. The shafts were colour-coded, long green pistons with holes punched at regular intervals which could be bolted together quickly to construct a variety of machines. These were securely attached to solid stanchions (colour coded red), triangular and of equal size, which were then bolted to the floor at regular intervals. At either end of the rods, the eccentric gearing which transformed the tension of the springs to the thrust of the pistons were brass, and shone with lubricant oil. Two teams of six of the biggest, strongest men on the crew stood stripped to the waist, ready to crank the port and starboard pistons in turn. At Jake’s suggestion, one of the ’prentices sat on a crossthwart with a small drum on his lap, ready to beat a rhythm when the teams started to wind the springs. On deck, the Bo’sun’s whistle sounded an agreed signal and the portside brake was released. Belowdecks, Jake felt the rumble of the screw-thread through the soles of his feet as it built rapidly towards full running speed. Even without the benefit of visual confirmation, he could feel the ship leap forward in response. Sailing across the prevailing wind, there were a few ‘bumps’ as they gained speed and had to force their way across waves but as they gained momentum this quickly smoothed itself out. In earlier test runs, Jake had quickly learned to listen for a particular change in the ‘note’ of the engine as the tension in the springs eased. Before their speed could slacken off, the starboard brake was released and the port-side crew began winding furiously to the insistent beat of the ’prentice’s drumming. The motor hummed smoothly: it seemed that once again, Quiggins had come up with an extremely useful innovation. The best part of the day was spent crossing and re-crossing the same empty stretch of open sea. They were just far enough from the Welsh coast to be hidden from the sight of any curious onlookers who might have been tempted to report their activity to less friendly ears: information always had a price, if you knew who might be interested in paying for it. “We’ve tried just about every combination of conditions I can dream up” Quiggins announced as they tied up late in the afternoon back at the harbour in Benllech Bay. “We’ve tried running across the tide, east to west and west to east: we’ve tried coming across the flow, diagonal to the current, both with and without sail ......... ” Jake glanced at Quiggins’ notes: in fairly short order, he’d become one of the few crew members who could actually interpret Quiggins’ handwritten scrawl and make sense of it. “Pity there isn’t a way we could actually .... sail directly into the wind.” he muttered. This possibility had been attempted, but abandoned when it became apparent that the tonnage of the ship and all it carried was too much for the drivescrew alone to cope with for any significant distance. The best efforts of the winding teams had been in vain: a headwind of even a moderate strength was more than they could work against. “Some problems were to be expected!” retorted Quiggins, making another mark on his notepad which (to anyone else) would have been totally incomprehensible. “It just needs some thought: there’s bound to be a solution if we just apply ourselves a bit more!” Shore leave was automatically granted, of course, especially after a day on which every member of the crew had worked hard, many of them performing tasks which were new to them rather than routine. All the ’prentices and some junior crew were dispatched on forage duties for driftwood: the cook had declared the evening’s meal would be in the form of a barbecue on the beach: soon, smoke was rising from a number of small (and in some cases not so small) cooking fires in sheltered spots along the curve of the bay. Johnny Dupl’eau had wasted no time contacting Chief Druid Merthyr as soon as they had docked, and by the time the fires had produced useful beds of coals he had arranged the delivery of suitable haunches of pork and bacon, together with plucked chickens and fresh-caught trout and eels. “Merthyr and the other Druids will join us for a meal: they promise fresh-baked bara brith and I’ve agreed a price for several barrels of their best wine, which is known both for its flavour and its strength!” declared Cap’n Johnny, who was obviously in good humour. As far as he was concerned, the day’s trials had been an unqualified success. When Quiggins had tried to point out to him the potential problems being unable to sail directly into the wind, he had put it into perspective. “After all, we can’t sail directly into the wind at all at the moment, so we’ve not actually lost anything, have we? And these new-fangled steam-driven packets have to use an enormous amount of fuel to be able to do it! No, I don’t think it’s going to be a major problem, Q: and I’ve every confidence that, if anyone can find a solution to the problem, it’d be you – and don’t forget, you’ve Jake here to help you if we need to find a way of doing it!” Quiggins looked carefully at Jake and nodded. “You might be right, Cap’n: you might just be right there.” Jake was surprised and embarrassed at this unexpected praise, faint though it might be, but was spared by a sudden ragged cheer which greeted the appearance of several hooded and cowled figures on the horizon, all carrying some contribution to the party on the beach. The fish and the various cuts of meat were distributed quickly and efficiently to the various cooking pits along the strand. Tankards and glasses appeared from nowhere: each pirate seemed to have at least one of these secreted somewhere about his person. Many had both a larger vessel for draughts of ale and a smaller shotglass for more modest measures of stronger spirits. “What about us ’prentices?” queried Jake “What do we drink with our meal? And I’m including myself because I’m the same age as them, even if you have made me a ... what? A midshipman? Cadet? Sub-something-or-other?” “At ease, sailor!” teased Quiggins “I’m not the one you should be asking about titles: and if you turn to Cap’n Johnny, he’s most likely interested in just how much (or how little) he’ll be able to pay you before he decides on your rank!” “I say, that’s a bit unfair!” protested Johnny Dupl’eau, taking out a spotless handkerchief to polish the hilt of the dress sabre he bore as the finishing touch to his “Number Ones” dress uniform. He studied the results of his labours carefully, conveniently appearing to forget that he had been asked a question. Behind the Captain’s back, Quiggins raised his eyes and shook his head to express his frustration, and shrugged his shoulders. Jake gathered that this was not the first time Cap’n Johnny had employed such tactics to avoid discussions involving pay and similar subjects. He responded to Quiggins’ dumb-show with a jaw-cracker of a grin. His needs were modest. He had bed and board, and a fresh adventure each day: what more could he possibly need? He turned to look more closely at their landlubber guests, the Druids with their leader .... what was that name again ... ? “Merthyr” Jake nearly jumped out of his skin as Tigertail’s distinctive “voice” sounded inside his head. By now he’d got used to the idea of communing with Tigertail without needing to speak aloud, but on this occasion he’d been searching his own memory rather than trying to ask Tigertail for assistance and hadn’t been expecting an answer. Cap’n Johnny noticed Jake’s involuntary start, and seemed genuinely concerned for his wellbeing. “Are you alright, Jake? Not having any, you know, reactions to ........ ?” Jake shook his head. “No, Cap’n: it was just like when people say they feel a ‘goose walk over their grave’ – I’m alright now, honest! But I still don’t know what us ’prentices are allowed to drink with the meal?” The answer wasn’t really that important. Jake felt the short answer would probably be along the lines of “whatever they can get away with, as long as they don’t make themselves sick” but as far as he was concerned this was an opportunity to deflect the direction this conversation was taking into a less dangerous channel. It seemed to work, anyway, because Cap’n Johnny paused and thought for a few seconds before replying: “As long as everybody – you included, young Jake! – is fit and sober enough to stand to in time for the early tide tomorrow morning, as far as I’m concerned you can drink whatever you’ve a mind to try as long as you’re thirsty! You’ve all worked non-stop for three, four days now: you deserve some time to relax, because we’ve a busy time ahead of us when we leave the harbour!” Jake thanked the Cap’n for this and started towards the gangplank which angled down to the quayside. As he went past, Quiggins stopped him and dug deep into one of his countless pockets, producing a half-pint tankard and a reasonable clean kerchief which he used to polish it. “I don’t expect you’ve a glass of your own, Jake: and I’m not much of a drinker, so .... “ Jake thought back to the only other occasion when he had witnessed liquor being served, and realised that Quiggins was telling the truth. The glass he had half-filled when toasting the Captain’s health (and to welcome Jake as a crew member) had remained almost untouched even when the crew rose to leave at the end of the meal. He realised that the silence which had developed while he took stock of all this was beginning to grow unfashionably lengthy, almost becoming impolite, and blurted out his delayed thanks for the gift. “Nonsense, nonsense!” was all Quiggins would say, waving Jake off to enjoy himself with the rest of the ’prentices – or with other, older crew members if he now felt more ‘at home’ with them.
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