Deck Boy, page 3
“ ’Fraid not.” Charlie yanked him off me and threw him aside. One foot caught the leg of a chair, he cannoned into a table and fell to the floor. Drinks scattered. The people at the table sprang back. “Hey! Watch out! Bloody oaf!” They were angry, mopping skirts and trousers.
“Sorry, mates,” Charlie said. “I’ll buy you another round. This guy’s trying to throw his weight around.”
The boy called Tony pulled himself to his feet . He was livid. A wet stain covered the front of his shirt. Coke dripped from his fingers. In sudden rage he lunged forward and swung a punch. Charlie took the blow on his shoulder and grabbed him, pinioning both arms to his sides. Tony struggled and kicked out.
“Quieten down,” Charlie said. “I’ll tell you what. Are you listening? Hit me again an’ I’ll flatten your nose right across your face. All right? Now on you go like a good boy and find another table. We were here first.”
He let go.
I was impressed. Charlie had always been such a joker.
Publicly humiliated, his face flaming, Tony stared at Charlie and abruptly thrust a hand deep into his pocket. I drew back, thinking he was going to pull a knife, but whatever was in there, Tony thought better of it. “I’ll get you!” he said viciously. One finger jabbed like a stiletto. “When you leave here tonight you’d better watch your back. I’ll be waiting.” He turned on me. “You too. I’ll have your guts for garters.”
Guts for garters? Come on! Even though I was shaking, I gave him a V-sign.
“Good on you, kid,” someone said.
At that moment two bouncers arrived, real Neanderthals with shaved skulls and arms hanging out from their sides. “All right, all right. What’s the trouble? What’s going on?” They glared around.
“Nothing.” Charlie straightened the table and picked up a couple of chairs. “Somebody tripped, that’s all.”
“That right?”
“Yeah, that’s about it, isn’t it, mate?” Charlie said.
Tony nodded. If looks could kill, Charlie and I were dead on the spot.
“If that’s what you’re saying.” But the bouncers weren’t happy. “You, on your way.” They turned Tony by the shoulders and pushed him back towards the dancing. “Any more trouble you’re out o’ here, the lot of you.”
They departed, hanging bellies, six foot four.
“Sorry.” Tony’s companion, Phil, shrugged apologetically and followed in their wake.
The excitement died down. We gave the group at the next table some money for drinks and a couple of minutes later Joey and Fizz came pushing through the crowd. Charlie waved. Fizz spotted us.
“I know her,” I said. “She was ahead of me at school here.”
“You must know Joey then,” Charlie said. “He was in the same class. Everyone knew Joey. Star of the school team. Got a trial for – Leeds or somewhere.”
“Joey Bennett?” The name hadn’t registered. “Can’t be. He was a titchy guy, hair down to his shoulders. Spots.”
“Yeah, I’d forgotten. But little guys turn into big guys.”
“He was a weed.”
“He still is, look at him.”
“Yeah, but white-faced, starved-looking. That guy’s nearly as brown as you are.”
“Well, he’s at sea now, isn’t he. You heard him, just back from the tropics somewhere.”
They reached the table. Joey passed round the cans and Fizz threw down some nibbles.
We were a chair short. Charlie went to a nearby table. “OK if I take this?”
Two girls sat there. “Yeah,” said the dark one.
“Help yourself,” said her blonde friend. “To anything. Gorgeous.” Charlie grinned and pulled the chair across.
Joey crammed his mouth with crackers. “What you been doing then, Charlie?”
“Same as you, I s’pose. Japan, Singapore, the Gulf. Big container job.” Charlie opened his can and caught the foam. “That’s my leave over now.”
“Where you going next then?”
“Not sure. Pacific Trader. Sign on, Monday.”
Crumbs fell from Joey’s lips. “Hey, me too.”
“Yeah?” What you sailing as?”
“Deck boy again. You?”
“O.S. now, aren’t I. Hey, it’ll be good, you an’ me. Have some laughs.”
“I guess.” Joey was less enthusiastic, He sucked the gap of a missing tooth.
“What’s up?”
“Well, there’s Fizz here, in’t there? Her and me gets along pretty well. Go off again, there’s goin’ to be other kids tryin’ to muscle in. Great girl like you – eh, Fizz?”
“You’re my guy, Joey.” She snuggled up and kissed him on the ear.
He pulled her close. “That’s what you say now. An’ there’s not many like me, I know, got the body and looks I got. But when I’m away four-five months an’ it gets a bit lonely on a Sat’day? Sexy Steve an’ Ronnie Rich start ringin’ up? Who’s goin’ to waste her life watchin’ telly when she could be out havin’ a good time?” Joey’s eyes, very blue in his long brown face, were sad. “Four months on, three weeks off. Don’t give a guy much of a chance.” He pulled out a wet-looking handkerchief to scrub his nose. “Rotten cold.”
“That’s the way it is,” Charlie said. “You knew that before you started.”
“Course I did. But I hadn’t met Fizz then, had I?”
“What a pair,” Charlie said. “I don’t know. You wantin’ to leave the sea, Ben here runnin’ away from boarding school.”
“How d’you mean?” Joey sat forward. “Tchoo!”
“He was at the High, couple of years behind you an’ Fizz,” Charlie said.
“What, an’ you’re doggin’ it?”
“Not exactly.” I told them a bit about Frankie’s and gran.
“I met him at Betty’s this morning,” Charlie said. “Done a runner from an old bag keeps a B and B down near the shore. Now he’s stayin’ with me. That right, Ben?”
I nodded.
“Never a dull moment.” Joey laughed. “But I don’t quite get it. This some kind of sea school you’re at?”
“No. Well, yes in a way. It’s just a school, like, but for the sons of sailors and airmen. People away from home a lot.”
“Francis Drake, yeah? Place like that you prob’ly do some sea stuff, navigation an’ seamanship an’ that.”
“Two periods a week. They’ve got a Sea Cadets though. Go sailing in the Lakes sometimes.”
“Ben done a trip with his dad a year back,” Charlie said. “That’s how I met him. I was deck boy, my first trip. His dad was first mate. Put him under the bosun, made him work with me.”
“So you’ve done chippin’ an’ holy-stonin’ an’ splicin’ an’ stuff?”
“A bit, yeah.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Charlie said. “He had his cabin up top, but his dad made him do the same as me. Only thirteen but see him sometimes, all clarted up wi’ grease and muck at the end of the day. Got stuck right in there. Dead popular with the crew.”
“Wasn’t hard,” I said. “I liked it. I don’t mind that sort of work.”
“Don’t mind it?” Joey said “Don’t mind scrubbin’ out the crew bogs? Where’d you say you met him?” he asked Charlie. “Down the funny farm?”
“It’s true,” I said. “Maybe not the bogs but the rest of it. Working there with the crew. I enjoyed it.”
“Dear, oh dear!” he shook his head. “A sad case. An’ you can’t tell by looking at him, can you? Seems to me,” he sneezed explosively, “it’s you should be goin’ down the Dock Office on Monday. Signin’ on Pacific Trader ’stead of me.”
“I wouldn’t mind.” I laughed. “Better than going back to boring old Frankie’s.”
It was just one of those things you say. I didn’t mean it, didn’t even think about it. At least not right then, because at that moment the two girls at the nearby table came over and asked if we wanted to dance.
A Few Beers
“SHE WAS disgusting!” Yet again I scrubbed my lips. “She tasted of cigarettes. And I didn’t want to kiss her anyway.”
“You can not be serious!” Joey rebuked me. “This is Jayne McVicar you’re talking about. The sexpot of 4C.”
“You don’t have to remind me,” I said. “Jayne the pain. She was horrible at school an’ she’s horrible now. What did she want to kiss me for anyway? The place was packed with older guys.”
“It’s obvious,” Charlie said. “She’s a baby-snatcher.”
“Thanks very much.”
“I can tell you why,” Fizz said. “Ben’s better looking, that’s why.”
“What! Him good-looking?”
“Of course. Not as good-looking as my Joey though.”
I scarcely heard them. “She doesn’t half fancy herself. I’d rather kiss Driller Killer.”
“Who?”
“Charlie’s dog. A big Rottweiler.”
Charlie laughed. “Doctor Death.”
“Yeah, well, Doctor Death. I’d rather kiss Doctor Death than Ciggy Jayne, any day.”
We had left the howl of Black Sunrise for somewhere quieter. As we descended the church steps I spotted a movement in the shadows. It was Tony. When he saw there were four of us, he melted back into the disco.
“That’s one gargoyle less,” Charlie shouted at his back. “Gutless wonder!”
The rain had stopped. As we walked to the Railway Inn, down near the docks, the streets grew darker and narrower. The barman was a harder nut to crack than Jayne McVicar:
“Eighteen? Gimme a break. Coming up eleven more like. Go on, hoppit!”
The Anchor and The Dancing Monkey brought no better luck and St Mary’s youth club was shut. In the end, carrying cans, pizzas and fish and chips, we took a taxi to Joey’s, a council house at the far side of town. The house was empty, his mother out for the night with her engineer boyfriend. Charlie and I sprawled comfortably in armchairs, jackets on the floor. Joey and Fizz sat with arms round each other on the big settee. Match of the Day, sound switched off, flickered on a TV in the corner.
Joey coughed and spat into a kitchen towel. “What you were saying there in the taxi.” He broke off a corner of pizza. “D’you you mean it? Would you really like to sign-on Monday? Go away ’stead o’ me?”
I thought. “Yeah, why not?”
“Deck boy?”
“I’ve done it before.” I spoke recklessly, a can of Merrydown at my lips.
“I’ll tell you this.” Joey washed down his pizza with a lager. “If you fancy it, I bet I fancy it a lot more.”
“Yeah, but it’s all talk, isn’t it,” I said. “I mean, I’m fourteen years old, you’re what – sixteen, seventeen? I can’t even leave school for a year and a bit. You’ve got papers an’ that. I don’t look anything like you.”
Joey sighed deeply. “It would be good though, wouldn’t it. You get to leave that school you don’t like. I get to stay here wi’ Fizz.” He tugged her hair affectionately and she snuggled closer.
Charlie said, “Are you two serious or just talking daft?”
“Talking daft,” I said.
“More’s the pity.”
“’Cause if you did really mean it, I’m not sure we couldn’t work it out. That’s if Ben’s up for a bit of adventure.”
“Get on!” Joey sneezed. “How?”
“Where’s your Discharge Book an’ Union Card, all that stuff?”
“Upstairs. Why?”
“Fetch it down.”
Joey hesitated.
“Don’t worry, she’ll be here when you come back.”
Joey unwound himself, Mohican erect, and left the room. A minute later he returned, a tatty envelope in one hand.
“Right.” He settled himself and tipped out the contents. “Discharge Book, Identity Card, Vaccination Certificate …” One by one he passed them across.
“What a terrible photo, Joey,” Fizz cried. “Look at your hair. It’s nothing like you.”
Charlie sucked his fingers and took the cards from him. “Same as mine.” He turned the pages. “Identical, ’cept your vaccination’s a different colour. But look,” he laid them open on the coffee table. “They could almost be anybody’s. Registration Card – nothing but your name and signature. Union Card – signature. Vaccination – signature. It’s only these two,” he glanced at the covers, “Discharge Book and Identity Card. They’re the only ones have any description.”
“But look at his photo,” I said. “I don’t look anything like him.”
“Hang on, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Charlie read from the bright red Seaman’s Identity Card: “Height : five foot ten. Taller than that aren’t you, Joey?”
“Six-one now. I had a spurt my first trip.”
“Doesn’t say that here. What about you, Ben?”
“Five-eight, five-nine,” I said.
“And growing all the time. Who’s going to notice two inches if you stand up straight? Now, Colour of eyes : blue. You’ve got blue eyes, haven’t you?”
“Yes, but not like his.”
“It doesn’t say like anything, just blue, an’ your eyes are blue.” A thought struck him. “Hey, your eyesight’s OK? I mean, you’re not short-sighted or colour blind or anything?”
“No.”
“Right.” Charlie read on: “Distinguishing marks : tattoo left shoulder, anchor. Let’s see, Joey.”
Joey unbuttoned his shirt. Right on the muscle was a blue and red anchor with a leaping dolphin. Across the middle, in a decorative scroll, stood the single word Mum.
“Hey, neat,” Charlie said.
“Goin’ to get one the other side for Fizz.”
She hugged him tight.
Charlie turned to me. “You wouldn’t mind a tattoo like that, would you?”
“Not Mum.”
“It doesn’t say that here.” He checked. “Just an anchor. You could have Dracula in it if you wanted.”
“Jayne McVicar.” Fizz giggled.
Charlie cast his eye down the page: “Date of birth … Place of birth … an’ that’s the lot.” He set the Identity Card aside and picked up Joey’s blue Discharge Book. Carefully he studied the first few pages. “Nothing new, just the ships you’ve been on and the same details as before: height … colour of eyes …”
“And a photo,” I said.
“I suppose that’s a bit of a problem but it seems to me like it’s the only one. “You can easy learn to copy Joey’s signature; your eyes are the right colour; no one’s going to notice the height; an’ you can get a tattoo tomorrow. The only thing left’s the photograph.”
“It’s got an embossed stamp.” I pointed. “Half on the photo and half on the page.” I turned it over. “Right through.”
“I can see that.”
“An’ it’s strong glue.” I picked at a corner. “You can’t just peel it off or stick another one on top.”
“Give us time, give us time,” Charlie said. “We’ve not even thought about it yet.”
“I know somebody might do it,” Joey said. “That’s if he’s home right now. Guy I sailed with last trip. Smoky Crisp, one of the ABs. Fantastic artist.”
“Do you know where he lives?”
“Easy find out.”
“Anyway,” Charlie took a cold chip, looked at it and put it back. “No point even thinking about it till there’s an answer to the big question – the only question left really. Are the two of you serious about all this?”
And all at once we weren’t just talking, it wasn’t a ‘what-if’ game. I was scared and took another pull of Merrydown. My head gave a lurch.
“You’re wrong, it’s not the only question,” I said. “What about my dad – and Auntie Marjorie? They’d be worried sick. What if there’s somebody on the Pacific Trader sailed with Joey last trip? What if something went wrong? It was OK on the Boston Princess ’cause dad was there. This time I’d be on my own.”
“Hey! Hey! Nobody’s trying to make you do it,” Charlie said. “It was your own idea. But if you do decide, you could prob’ly share a cabin with me. Deck boys and ordinary seamen double up all the time. It would be good, I’d tell ’em we’re best mates.”
“And if somebody knows Joey?”
“Who’s going to see your papers? None of the crew anyroad. Call yourself something different. Got a middle name, Joey?”
“Yeah, Alvin.”
“Alvin!” I said.
“They called me Jabbo at school,” Joey said. “My initials like.”
“I remember that,” Charlie said. “When you played for the team. All the kids shouting, ‘Ja-bbo! Ja-bbo’!”
The memory made Joey sad.
Fizz twined her fingers in his. “You boys are so thick,” she said. “Joey’s name’s Bennett, right? And you’re called Ben. Think about it. You do this crazy thing, you don’t need to change your name at all, just use the one you’ve got – Ben.”
“Of course, Ben for Bennett.” Charlie sat up. “You’re right, people use their second names all the time.”
“Like who?” I said.
“Smithy, Mac, Chalky White – half the people I know. Hey, I’m getting a feeling about this.”
“Ben Bennett,” I said. “And what happens if I get found out - at least, when I get found out?”
“Well, they can’t flog you or hang you, can they? It’s not like you murdered anybody. Just give you a slap on the wrist an’ send you back to school. You can live with that.”
Charlie drained his beer and reached for another. At the same moment a clock on the mantelpiece began a long series of chimes. He glanced across.
“Midnight! That can’t be right.” He checked his watch. “Oh, help! Mum’ll be on the warpath.” He grabbed his jacket. “C’me on, Ben. It’s all your fault!” Snatching a handful of crisps, he crammed them into his mouth and headed for the door.
“See you tomorrow,” Joey shouted.
“If mum lets me live that long. Listen, 521387 – write it down – 521387. Give me a ring. If I don’t hear we’ll see you down at Betty’s half ten. Come on, Ben.”
Jackets flapping, we tumbled from the door and ran down the abandoned garden. The fresh air hit me. I felt a bit peculiar.
