Innocent on the run. Part 19.

Ricky turned away from the dry-dock and a voice called to him, ‘Hey! Come here you little sod, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.’ Pete was coming towards him, weaving unsteadily on his feet. He stabbed a finger into Ricky’s chest. ‘You little bastard,’ he hissed. Ricky recoiled from the alcohol-laden breath, and took a pace backwards. ‘Don’t walk away from me,’ Pete shouted. ‘It’s time you got taught not to carry tales about me.’ Ricky was stunned! He had no idea that Pete thought he’d been carrying tales. ‘I didn’t say anything about you,’ he declared. ‘Don’t lie to me you little swine. You told Doc that I’d been on your back and the old bastard poisoned me.’ Ricky shook his head, ‘ No, you’ve got it wrong.’ Pete grabbed the front of Ricky’s shirt and bunched it up, drawing the younger lad towards him so that their faces were inches apart. His breath nearly made Ricky gag. ‘I’ve got it right!’ Pete shouted in his face. ‘And this is where you get what’s coming to you.’ He punched Ricky in the stomach with his right fist and the lad was propelled backwards. Gasping for breath, Ricky saw Pete advancing towards him. Pete swung a punch at his head and Ricky ducked under it. The blow whistled over his head. Pete swung towards him again and aimed another punch at his face. Ricky swayed backwards on his heels and the punch missed him by inches. He squared up to Pete with his fists raised. Pete smiled, his hands on his hips. ‘Think you can fight do you? Come on, then. Let’s see what you’re made of.’ He advanced and threw a tremendous right hand punch but Ricky dodged to his right and as Pete was trying to recover his balance, Ricky danced in and slammed a right into his body. The air whooshed out of Pete’s lungs and he gasped. Seeing his chance Ricky came in again and smashed a right onto Pete’s jaw. He shook his head. ‘You little bastard,’ he grunted. ‘Now you’re for it.’ He came at Ricky again and threw a round-arm punch that Ricky ducked under. As he came up, he sent a left hook over Pete’s arm and smacked him in the right eye. Pete tried to grab him but the lad was not going to be caught that way and he weaved his way out of the clutching hands and danced away. Pete was getting mad and he rushed forwards. The boxing coach had always taught the boys that the fighter who loses his temper and started acting rashly was as good as beaten. He easily avoided the bigger lad’s rush and his flailing arms and sidestepped. As Pete blundered past, Ricky hit him with a left and right to the body. He turned to Ricky snarling, and tried another rush. Ricky’s straight left to the nose stopped him dead in his tracks and the right that followed it caught Pete in the left eye. He raised both his arms to cover his face and Ricky went in to the body. Left, right, left, right into the ribs. He punched for all he was worth, and felt his blows jarring him to the elbows. All the pent-up anger that he’d been suppressing while Pete was causing him grief was expelled in the weight of the hammer blows that he belted into the bigger boy’s body, staggering him backwards. Pete’s hands clawed at Ricky’s back as he desperately tried to stop himself falling backwards, but Ricky was advancing, still slamming punches into his body. Suddenly Pete’s feet couldn’t keep up with his backward motion and he toppled over with Rick on top of him. He lay on the ground winded as Ricky levered himself up and turned away from him. Pete gained a little breath. ‘Don’t think this is the end of it,’ he gasped, sucking in great quantities of air. ‘I’ll have you again.’ Ricky turned back to him. ‘Any time,’ he said. He picked up his carrier bag and walked towards the ship. **** Llanerin was brilliantly lit, with floodlights high up on the accommodation and masts lighting up the decks and hatches. The cranes had their own lights on as well, one floodlight either side of the cab, and one enormous one on the end of the jib pointing downwards, so the driver could see where he was dropping the grain. They continued their monotonous lifting from the delivery trucks, swinging the grab over the hold and releasing the jaws to drop the grain into the depths. He climbed the gangway and checked in with the Second Mate who had the deck watch, before going in to the mess room for a sandwich. Doc and Dave were there eating toast and marmalade and drinking tea. 'Where you been Rick? Apart from buying cowboy gear,' Doc asked eyeing up Ricky's new clothes. 'In a pool hall, playing a few games.' 'Did you win ?' 'I won one and the other guy won one.' 'Try saying that when you're sober.' Dave said. 'Be careful of these pool players, they'll hustle you.' Doc said. 'They lose one or two games purposely, then when you think you can beat them, they get you to agree to increase the stakes by some huge amount, and wipe the floor with you.' 'There were a couple of men playing a tournament, and I bet three dollars and won another three.' 'They're gambling mad over here.' Dave told him. 'Where did you go?' Ricky asked. 'Just a couple of bars. Had a quiet drink and came back again.' 'Did anyone come in with a gun to rob the place?' Dave smiled. 'No, not tonight.' 'I'm for my bed.' Doc said, rising from the table. 'See you boys in the morning.' 'Goodnight,' they said together, and Doc left them to go to his cabin just behind the galley. 'You'll be duty tomorrow night.' Dave told Ricky. 'The Bosun's drawn up a roster for cargo watching. You and Fred are on tomorrow evening, six ‘til midnight. There's not much to it, you just have to make sure the cranes drop the grain evenly in the hatch, so the ship doesn't get a list on her. You're supposed to signal the crane driver to drop it in the corners, once it piles up in one place, but they know better than we do where to drop it, so all you'll be doing is sweeping up the droppings and throwing it in the hold.' 'No pool tomorrow night then !' 'No, but it means a bit of overtime for you.' 'Oh, that's O.K. then. I may be able to get those cowboy boots yet.' 'High heels and pointy toes?' Dave laughed, 'They'll cripple you. You'll be walking like John Wayne with those things on.' Ricky grinned. 'I'll be two inches taller with boots on.' 'You're not doing bad without them. What are you ? Five foot six ?' 'Five seven. And nine stone exactly.' 'Well, keep up the training down below and you'll soon be like Charlie Atlas.' He rose from the table, and stretched, 'I'm off, see you in the morning.' Ricky got up and gathered the cups and plates up. 'Don't wash those now.' Dave said. 'Leave them soaking in the sink and do them in the morning. Other people will be coming back later and doing the same as us, so there'll be a pile to do. Goodnight.' Ricky was piling the dishes in the sink. 'Goodnight,' he replied. He filled the sink with hot water and threw a handful of soap powder in with them. The water boiler was half full so he topped it up and made his way to his cabin, cleaned his teeth and got turned in. It had been a good evening ashore, and he hoped he could go again. He really wanted those boots ! Copyright Deric Barry 2005.