Innocent on the run. Part 15.

'See you later, Doc,’ Ricky called as he went through the door. ‘OK,’ Doc replied. ‘Special treat today, Rick. Chocolate pudding.’ Ricky grinned. ‘Great,’ he enthused, rubbing his stomach. The two portholes were looking good with most of the paint off them and he started with the steel wool. He rubbed and scrubbed at the brass until there was not a speck of paint left on either of them. When they were ready for polishing, he picked up the canvas on the deck by the corners and tipped the chippings into the centre. He bundled up the canvas and carried it out of the cabin, taking care not to spill anything on the Mate’s carpet. He took it to the guardrail and emptied it into the sea, giving it a good shake to get the last bits out. Replacing the clean canvas on the deck  of the bathroom, he poured metal polish onto some steel wool and started polishing the first brass porthole and the brass clips for tightening it down, until his arm ached. He rested for a minute before starting on the second one. When he had finished, both portholes were coated in black metal polish. He rested again before going back to the first one and rubbing the dry polish off with a rag. The brass gleamed and shone like new. He really could see his face in nit. He was finishing off the second one when the Mate came in to see how he was getting on. ‘Wow!’ he exclaimed. ‘You have done a good job.’ He inspected both portholes. ‘Marvellous,’ he said. ‘Well done, son. That’s a great job.’ Ricky picked up his cleaning materials and went out grinning like a Cheshire cat. He felt better than he had done in days. At lunch, Doc was pushing the chocolate pudding and custard. He insisted that everybody had at least one helping and tried his best to get them to have seconds. ‘Get it down you,’ he said to Charlie as he handed him a large slice covered in custard. ‘Why don’t you make this more often?’ Charlie asked. ‘What, and spoil you bunch of ingrates.’ Pete came to the hatch for a second helping and Doc turned to the cooker where the pudding was balanced on the flap down door of the oven. He bent over the tray and placed a huge slice in Pete’s bowl ‘I’m glad someone appreciates my duff,’ he said as he ladled custard over the bowl. ‘It’s great, Doc,’ Pete grinned. He took it back to his place at the table and wolfed it down. In the galley, Doc watched Pete making a pig of himself and smiled. The Bosun took Ricky aside at the start of the afternoon’s work and he was smiling. ‘The Mate asked me to take a look at his portholes,’ he said. ‘I agreed with him, they look marvellous and you did a great job.’ Ricky flushed with pleasure. ‘You see, you can do a good job when you want to, can’t you?’ ‘Yes, Bosun.’ ‘Good, keep it up and we’ll get along just fine. You can help Fred this afternoon, splicing some wire.’ Fred showed him how to splice an eye in the end of a steel hawser. First he bent the end of the steel hawser around in a loop and held the loop clamped in a vice. He then used a sharp pointed spike which he called a marlin spike to force open the strands of the main body of the steel wire, above where the loop would be formed. Then he separated a single strand of wire from the end of the loop and forced it through the gap he’d made in the main wire, with the spike. He wore strong leather gloves to protect his hands from the sharp strands of wire and worked his way around the hawser, threading the loose ends through the gaps he made, alternating over and under the strands of the main hawser. It was hard work and they made up three wire strops with an eye in each end from the coil of steel hawser that afternoon. ‘What do you use the strops for?’ Ricky asked. ‘We pass them around machinery or anything very heavy, then we can lift it on or off the ship using the ship’s derrick.’ Ricky turned in and slept like a baby that night. The hard work and the praise he’d had from the Mate and the Bosun made him forget all about his troubles with Pete. He awoke refreshed and in a happy frame of mind the following morning. Doc was singing when Ricky arrived in the galley. ‘You’re happy today, Doc,’ he said grinning. ‘Always happy, me’ Doc answered. ‘I’ll bet someone else isn’t , though.’ ‘Oh, who’s that, then?’ Ricky queried. ‘Just a feeling I’ve got about something,’ Doc said innocently. The work got underway and soon the washing up was done and the mess tables cleaned ready for breakfast. There was the usual hubbub of noise as the crew bantered among themselves good naturedly. Suddenly the noise subsided and became a deathly hush as every eye in the mess turned to the doorway. Pete clung to the doorjamb, his face ashen and his eyes bloodshot. He opened his mouth and a squawk came out of it. ‘Aaargh,’ he squawked. There was silence in the mess as they all gazed at Pete’s drawn features. ‘Doc,’ he managed to get out. Doc came to the serving hatch. ‘What’s up?’ he asked. Pete pointed to his mouth. ‘Poisoned,’ he squeaked. ‘Poisoned,’ Doc said, puzzled. ‘How? What did you take?’ ‘Your bloody grub.’ Doc was outraged! ‘My grub?’ he shouted. My bloody grub poisoned you?’ Pete nodded. ‘Been on the shithouse all night.’ He croaked. ‘Can’t stop shitting.’ ‘And you’re blaming my grub are you?’ Doc shouted in fury. ‘That’s bloody typical, isn’t it?’ he asked the mess. ‘I’ll bet you were in here raiding the fridge and cooking stuff after I’d gone to bed, weren’t you?’ Pete nodded, ‘Yes, but…..’ ‘No bloody buts. How come no one else is down with the shits? Eh? If it was my cooking they’d all be down with it.’ He waved his teacloth at the men gathered in the mess. Pete started spluttering. ‘Don’t blame me,’ Doc continued. ‘If you come in here after I’ve gone to bed and start cooking for yourself, you’ve only got yourself to blame. You’ve probably given yourself Salmonella poisoning or something.’ Pete shouted, ‘Oh, Christ!’ and dashed out of the mess room to the toilet across the passageway where the crew heard the door slam followed by a great, lingering sigh from within. They all erupted in laughter. The Bosun wiped his eyes as his laughter subsided. ‘I won’t get any work out of him today,’ he chortled. Doc was leaning over the sink, doubled up with laughter. Ricky was holding his stomach, tears of laughter streaming down his face. ‘That’s made my day,’ Doc exploded. ‘Teach the bugger to have midnight fry-ups.’ He dried his eyes on his apron as the crew filed out of the mess to start work, laughing among themselves. Doc told everyone who came in to eat after the watches changed, how Pete had caught some bug from having midnight fry-ups. He demonstrated how Pete had looked, holding on to the doorjamb and croaking like a frog. The crew loved it! When Ricky was clearing up after everyone had left the mess, he said to Doc. ‘What do you think gave him the runs, Doc?’ Doc grinned and whispered, ‘probably something to do with the four chocolate laxatives I put in his pudding, I expect.’ Copyright Deric Barry 2005.