Deck Boy, page 31
At last, as the air grew colder and the glacier that lies between the peaks came close, I realised I was going to make it. My legs found new energy. We negotiated the ice. Drank from streams of crystal water. Climbed the topmost rocks. And at length stood upon the snowy summit.
I felt terrific. Eight thousand, two hundred and sixty feet, nearly twice the height of Ben Nevis. Far off to the east, halfway across North Island, other snow-capped volcanoes rose from the New Zealand plain. Below us lay the grey volcanic scree, the forest of rhododendrons, miles of green farmland, and finally the patched Tasman Sea, stretching for ever to a misty horizon.
The wind blew more strongly on the summit. It was bitterly cold. For fifteen minutes we explored and took photographs, then started the long descent.
By the time we reached the lodge my knees had turned to rubber. We fished out money and collapsed into chairs while Michael, still the freshest of us all, bought drinks and Danish pastries.
Kevin, in the hours he had been waiting, had drunk a beer too many and was telling a middle-aged Kiwi couple how effing marvellous it was to live in Birmingham. Aaron was nowhere to be seen. Once we had recovered a little we went searching and found him on a broken settee in the back premises where an off-duty waitress was dropping morsels of caramel shortbread into his open mouth.
So, in our different ways, it was a successful day all round.
By the time we reached the ship dinner was over. Charlie said he was feeling better although he didn’t look too good. He had been sick again and spent most of the morning in his bunk feeling rotten. A violent attack of diarrhoea seemed to have settled him.
“What did the mate say?”
“He didn’t have much time, there were two others as well as me. Thought I’d got a touch of food poisoning or maybe some stomach infection. Just asked a couple of questions an’ give me some antibiotics and a bottle of pink stuff. Said to go back tomorrow if it’s not any better. Comes and goes, it’s been hanging around for days.” He winced and sat up. “Anyway, enough of that. What about you?”
So I told him about the mountain.
After a long shower and comparison of blisters, a few of us limped ashore for a curry. Charlie wouldn’t come, not even for a coffee or some chips, although he hadn’t eaten all day. “Maybe tomorrow. Give the old guts a chance to settle down. Couple of spoonfuls of that pink jollop and an early night.”
“Like me to stay?”
“Don’t be daft,” he said, but his eyes were puffy and I could see he was still in quite a bit of pain “Get my head down, see if I can’t sleep it off.”
The others were waiting at the gangway, so off I went.
Emergency
IT WAS after ten when we returned, four weary sailors trailing up the quay.
At once I looked in on Charlie. He muttered in his sleep and his pillow was wet with perspiration. His forehead radiated heat.
I went to fetch Barbara, who knew a lot more about sickness than I did.
He turned down the bedclothes. “Got a touch of fever,” he said.
“He’s been in terrible pain.”
“Look at him,” said Michael who had come with us. “Bless him.”
“Never mind all that,” I said, “what are we going to do?”
“Change his sheets anyway,” said Barbara. “Get him out of those wet clothes.”
Michael, who had keys to the linen store, hurried away.
“Charlie, love. Charlie! It’s Barbara.” He shook his shoulder gently. “Come on, sweetheart, wake up. We need to get you changed.”
Slowly Charlie came round. It hurt to clamber down. Dizzily he stripped off his T-shirt and boxer shorts. I fetched a fresh set from the drawer while Barbara handed him a towel to rub himself dry and Michael changed the sheets. Though it was warm, Charlie began to shiver. He pulled on his clean underwear but was unable to climb back to the top bunk where he had slept all trip. There was a ladder but he never used it and we’d put it away in storage.
“Take mine,” I said.
Without a word he crawled into the bottom bunk and collapsed on his back, waiting for the pain to ease.
I was scared.
Barbara covered his legs with the sheet. “Where exactly does it hurt?”
Charlie gestured to the bottom of his belly.
“Right hand side?” Barbara glanced at Michael. “Mate checked for appendicitis, I suppose.”
Charlie didn’t seem to care. “Just asked some questions and give me the medicine.” His eyes were closing.
“This is Barbara, love, all right? Just tell me if it’s sore.” Like a doctor, he eased down the waist of Charlie’s shorts and rested two fingers on his skin. Gently he pressed. Charlie didn’t stir. He moved his fingers and pressed again.
“Aahhh! Aahhh!” Charlie tried to stifle his cry.
“All right, love. All right. That’s it. All over. You can go to sleep now.” He pulled the sheet to Charlie’s chin.
“Hard as a rock,” he said. “Clearest case of appendicitis you’ll ever see. Every symptom and now this. He needs to get to hospital.”
“Who’ll tell the mate?” I shrank from another tongue-lashing. “Will you come with me?”
“You stay here with Charlie,” Barbara said. “I’ll go.”
“I’ll come with you,” Michael said.
They told me what happened. The mate came to his door wearing a silk Paisley dressing-gown, and was far from pleased to be disturbed at that time of night. “Who says he’s got appendicitis?”
“Me,” Barbara said.
“And you know, do you?”
“I should do, I’ve seen enough.”
“He used to be a hospital orderly,” Michael explained.
“So I believe, but not a doctor.” He turned to Barbara. “Then you were a steward, if I remember correctly. Blotted your copybook there and now you’re a greaser. And I’m the mate. I’ve seen Sunderland, I’ve given him a course of antibiotics. He’ll live until the morning. If he gets any worse, come and see me again. In the meantime,” he disappeared into the cabin and they saw Trish, a towel round her hair, sitting with a magazine. She waggled her fingers and made a rueful face. The mate returned and tipped four tablets into Barbara’s palm. “Paracetamol. Give him a couple now. He can take the others if he needs them.”
“But he’s really quite – ”
The mate stepped back. “Goodnight.” The curtain closed behind him.
“He should be in hospital,” Barbara said again as they returned to the cabin. “All right, we’ll give him the pills. They’ll help the pain, anyway, help him to sleep. But if he gets any worse we’re phoning for an ambulance.”
Charlie seemed to settle down after that and when I climbed into the top bunk some time before twelve, he was sleeping quietly. I thought I might lie awake but after spending most of the day on the slopes of Mount Egmont, I was so tired I crashed out the minute my head hit the pillow.
“Ben! Ben!” A voice reached me in the deepest fathoms of sleep. A hand was shaking me by the shoulder. I struggled awake.
The cabin was dark but it was Charlie. I heard him being sick.
I switched on the bunk light and jumped down, dazed with sleep and trying to avoid the mess.
“It hurts!” He was doubled up with pain. “I can’t stand it.”
“OK, Charlie. OK! Hang on!” I ran from the cabin and up through the ship. A shore telephone was hooked up by the gangway. I snatched the receiver and rang the operator.
“Emergency! Emergency!”
She put me straight through.
“Ambulance! Down at the docks. Pacific Trader. Hurry!”
“What berth, caller?”
“Berth? I don’t – ”
“Five.” Steve Petersen was night watchman.
“Five,” I almost shouted. “Berth five.”
“The ambulance will be with you right away. What’s your name, caller?”
“Eh? Oh, Benjamin Thomson.”
“Is that Thompson with a ‘p’, caller?”
“What?” I realised what I had said and glanced at Steve. “Sorry, Joseph Bennett. I wasn’t thinking. My name’s Joseph Bennett.”
“And what’s the problem, Mr Bennett?”
“Charlie. Charles Sunderland. He’s got appendicitis. He’s in terrible pain. Being sick. Everything. Hurry!”
“Leave directions at the gangway, Mr Bennett, and return to the patient. The ambulance is on its way.”
“Could you fetch Barbara?” I clattered down the receiver and turned to Steve. “He knows all about it.”
“Barbara? Yeah, sure. Charlie bad, is he?”
“Yes, very.”
“You smell of sick.”
I realised my bare foot felt slippery and looked down. My stomach gave a lurch. “It’ll wash off.”
“Poor Charlie.” Steve was a changed man. “Anything else I can do?”
I hesitated. “Would you tell the mate? After the ambulance gets here.”
“Shouldn’t I tell him straight away?” He pushed back his blond hair.
“He’ll be furious. Told us to leave it till the morning. Got to go.”
I couldn’t stand the sick on my foot and rinsed it in the shower then hurried back to the cabin. To my astonishment Charlie was calm and sitting on the day bed.
“It’s gone.”
“What?”
“Yeah, hurt like hell, I never felt anything like it. Then suddenly, I don’t know, it was like something shifted inside and the pain just sort of ebbed away.”
“Completely gone?”
“No, it’s still sore, like somebody give me a kick in the guts, but not like before.”
“I phoned for an ambulance.” I began to wonder if I’d done the right thing.
“Maybe it was some sort of blockage. Perhaps that’s it away now.” He shut his eyes. “I do feel a bit queer though.”
He certainly didn’t look well.
Barbara joined us. He had grabbed the first garment that came to hand, a crumpled boiler suit. “Here, out the way.” Most of the sick was on the rug. He rolled it up and mopped the deck with a wet towel. “Wish I had a quid for every time I’ve done that.” He dumped them in the alleyway and rinsed his hands.
“He says the pain’s – ”
“He can tell me himself. Come on, love. Got another T-shirt and pants?”
Soon Charlie looked more comfortable and a few minutes later a doctor arrived with two paramedics.
The doctor was young. “Smart ship you’ve got here.” He smiled to put us at ease. “Now, what’s the problem?”
We told him.
“Right.” He looked down at Charlie. “How you feeling, mate? Bit rough, eh?” He felt his brow, looked into his eyes. “Now, let’s see what the problem is.” He made Charlie lie on the day bed and eased down the waist of his boxers. Gently he probed his belly. “There?”
“Yeah. Ow!”
The doctor looked anxious. “Look, mate, afraid I’m going to have to hurt you a bit more. Little poke around. Only take a minute.”
He was good. Stubby fingers moved over Charlie’s brown skin.
Charlie winced. Barbara and I stood watching.
The doctor was soon finished. He pulled up Charlie’s shorts and popped a thermometer into his mouth. “Which of you rang the ambulance?”
“Me. I share a cabin with him. I didn’t know what to do. I hope – ”
The mate burst through the curtain. “Bennett! Just who the hell do you think you are, phoning the ambulance without consulting me? I told you I’d see Sunderland first thing in the morning.” He turned to the doctor and held out a hand. “I’m the mate. I’m sorry, this bloody deck boy’s been a pain in the – well, right from the start of the trip. He had no right to call you out without my permission.”
“Just as well he did, it seems to me. You’ve got a sick boy here, Mr Mate. I’m taking him right into hospital.”
“Into hospital. Are you sure?”
“Let me put it this way. You’re the mate and I’m the doctor. Yes, I’m sure. He should have been there days ago. Acute appendicitis and now it’s burst. Get him into the operating theatre soon as we get there. Leave it till the morning would not be a good idea.”
The mate was silenced.
“Who’s in charge of the sick boy here?”
“I am.”
“As in medical?”
“Yes.”
The doctor had taken a strong dislike to the mate. “Well, I don’t want to speak out of turn but it seems to me there’s one or two things you might brush up on.”
The mate flushed darkly.
“OK, Tommy.” The doctor spoke to a middle-aged paramedic. “I’ll give him a shot then we’ll take him in.” He smiled down at Charlie. “You’ll be all right, mate. Have you chasing the sheilas round the ward in no time.”
He opened his bag and prepared the hypodermic.
PART SIX
HOMEWARD BOUND
I Receive a Letter
THEY OPERATED in the early hours of the morning and that evening I went to the hospital with Aaron. We found Charlie in a single ward. A drip led into his arm and two tubes emerged from the sheet that covered his lower half. Watery red stuff slithered down one. He was sleeping, his face yellow. Every so often some little stab made his forehead twitch. I thought he looked terrible.
“No, he’s fine.” A motherly nurse smiled. “That’s just the after-effects of the op. Handsome young chap. The nurses’ll enjoy nursing him back to health. Not just the young ones either. Wouldn’t mind a toy boy like him myself.”
“Is he going to be OK?” I asked. “It’s serious when an appendix bursts, isn’t it?”
“It certainly is, but Mr Dawkins is an excellent surgeon and he’s a strong young man. No need to worry, your friend will come through fine.”
She cheered us up and we had a beer on the way back to the ship. I was having less trouble getting served because my whiskers were growing thicker and three months on deck had given me the look of a regular young seaman. But I was worried. Charlie had been my guide from the start. In fact the whole trip had been his idea. I had done the deck boy’s work but that was the easy bit. Without Charlie in the cabin to keep me right, I wondered how I would get on.
I didn’t get a chance to see him again because loading was almost complete and we set sail for home the next day. Aaron found a card and got it signed, every corner crammed with messages, kisses in pink and gold from some, more manly ‘Miss you mate’, ‘See you in Singapore’ and ‘Give the nurses one from me’ from the rest.
Charlie was seventeen and I wondered if his mother had been told about the operation. I held back from asking the mate but spotting Captain Bell on deck, I went across. Yes, he told me, he had spoken to Mrs Sunderland on the phone, a nice woman. When Charlie recovered he would be flown back to the UK. Possibly, if he recovered in time, he might rejoin us in Singapore or Sri Lanka when we called there on the way home. He hoped so because he didn’t want to lose such a likable young seaman and there was no chance of finding a replacement at a day’s notice.
Charlie and I had talked several times since he first mentioned it about the possibility of staying with his mum and dad when the trip was over. On the day we sailed I received an unexpected letter:
Dear Ben,
I hope all is going well and you are enjoying the trip!!! Charlie has written and told me the trick you played, taking Joey Bennett’s place on the ship. You are two very naughty and unthinking boys. What your poor dad must have suffered I can’t imagine. I have not told him – yet. But once you are well and truly on the way home I shall certainly do so. Charlie tells me you settled well into life on board and have had no trouble with the work. I am not surprised, you seemed a very sensible lad the days you were staying here. Fourteen years old, I can’t believe it! I wondered how I’d seen Joey’s name in the papers when he should have been at sea, scoring all those goals for Westport Juniors.
Anyway, as regards you coming to live with Dad and me when you come back. It all depends on your dad, of course, and whether the headmaster at Westport Comprehensive can find you a place. If the answer to both of these things is yes, and you would like to come here, we’d both be delighted. The house is far too big for just the two of us and it would be lovely to have some young life about the place again.
I have written to Charlie telling him that I am very cross with him – not that it will make any difference. Boys will be boys and I suppose you can’t change human nature. He’s a good lad at heart.
Looking forward to seeing you both when you come back safe and sound.
With love,
Meg Sunderland
At smoko I wrote to Charlie telling him how great his mum was and put the note with his belongings when they were taken away to the hospital. I wanted to get in to see him at lunchtime but we weren’t allowed ashore. Michael phoned from the gangway instead. A few of us gathered round to listen:
“Hello? Can I speak to Charlie Sunderland, please … Ward 14 … Thanks … Hello? … Yes, Charlie Sunderland … He’s sleeping? … But he’s OK yes? … Who am I speaking to? … Sister Mackay? Well will you give him a message? … His friends on the ship … Yes, sailing this afternoon. But listen, you’re to tell him we all love him madly and lots of hugs and kisses … Pardon? … This is Michael … You’ll kiss him for us? Lucky old you! … Ooh, cheeky! … And tell him if he doesn’t come and join us in Singapore we’re all going to kill ourselves … Well come down and find out for yourself … I’ve got a friend here beside me, he’s very keen on nurses … Ask him about Lyttelton … What happened? If I told you the half of it the receiver would melt … Next trip? I’ll tell him … Thanks, you’re a pal … Byeee!”
We sailed at seven in the evening, straight out into the Tasman Sea. Our route led north-west through the Coral Sea and past the Great Barrier Reef; through the Torres Strait between Papua New Guinea and Cape York at the north-east tip of Australia; then west by Borneo and the myriad islands of Indonesia to Singapore.
The summit of Mount Egmont, lit by the setting sun, sank behind us. The stars appeared. I left some others on deck and went down to see Aaron.
