Innocent on the run. Part 20.

Chapter 5. Doc called Ricky again at six thirty, and said that he'd had a lie in, so hit the deck pronto! Doc had got in the habit of putting Spanish words into his conversation since they had arrived at Port Arthur. He'd say, 'Que?' instead of 'what?' 'No sabe,' when he didn't understand something, 'Pronto,' for 'quick' and 'dinero' for 'money,' and loads of other words that Ricky was sure he'd invented. He washed and dressed and got up to the galley by a quarter to seven. Doc was singing 'The yellow rose of Texas,' as he busied himself at the stove. Nigel was in the galley loading up his dumb waiter with trays, and he shouted at Ricky, 'Come in if you can stand the noise, Rick.' 'You blokes don't appreciate good singing,' Doc laughed. 'Bueno Dias Rick.' 'Morning,' Ricky answered. Nigel sniffed. 'That's the trouble, we do appreciate good singing. I've got a headache already, listening to that noise.' 'Your headache is from too much beer last night, you drunken devil you. I saw you in that sleazy bar, talking to those American sailors,' Doc answered. 'Oh, you rotten liar, Doc. I did no such thing,' Nigel pouted. 'Yes you did, I saw you, so don't deny it. One of them was about six foot five and the other was a little Mexican type. You want to watch those Mexicans, they're full of beans and wind.' Doc jumped up and down on the spot. 'Boing, Boing, Frrrt,' he mouthed. Ricky was in stitches! 'Oh, really!' Nigel squealed, and flounced out of the galley. Doc laughed, 'I'll get him going yet. He's going to blow one of these days.' 'The way you say things, it sounds true.' Ricky said, pouring himself a cup of tea. 'Well, if he wants to work with men, he's got to take it like an hombre. I had him nearly there yesterday ! He was on the edge ! A few more words and he would have been over the top.' Ricky started washing up the previous night's dirty crockery. Doc carried on, 'I told him that the Captain had said his pantry needed a good clean, and he was going to get the Chief Steward to give Nigel a roasting ! Doc was grinning all over his face. 'He was nearly spitting! ''My pantry is not dirty, he squeaked. I'm very particular with my pantry! How dare anyone say my pantry is dirty.'' So you're calling the Captain a liar, then, I said. Go on, then, go see the Captain and call him a liar to his face. He stuck his nose in the air, like this,' and Doc demonstrated Nigel with his nose in the air and one hand on his hip. ' ''I shall go and see the Chief Steward,'' he said, and ponced out of here like a big tart.' Ricky was grinning at Doc's demonstration of an irate Nigel, so Doc took a couple of mincing steps across the galley, which cracked him up! 'Changing your profession, Doc.' A voice from the doorway said. 'Hello Mr. Mate,' he answered. 'Just showing Ricky who he's got to stay away from over here.' 'Not many of those in Texas.' the Mate grinned. 'Any breakfast ready yet? I've got to be on deck shortly so I'm not going in the saloon to eat.' 'Yes, here we go,' Doc replied, and broke two eggs in the pan. He opened his oven door and piled a plate up with sausages, bacon, black pudding, fried bread, and beans. Placing the eggs on the top, he handed it to the Mate. 'Blimey,' he said. 'Do I eat it or climb it ?' 'Set you up for the morning.' Doc answered. Ricky had finished his washing up, so he cleared the messroom tables and wiped them down. The boiler had been filled by Doc earlier and it was hissing away, ready for the tea and coffee. Other crew members were coming in for breakfast so he kept busy filling plates, washing up in between, and clearing the tables. Pete came in to the mess room and sat as far away from the serving hatch as he could get. He nursed a cup of tea between his hands. Both of his eyes were puffy and a dark bruise had appeared under the right one. ‘What happened to you?’ Doc called out to him. ‘Got in a bit of trouble in one of the bars,’ he answered. Doc turned away from the hatch and looked at Ricky. The lad smiled and Doc raised his eyebrows, questioning. Ricky said nothing. Charlie had been ashore the previous evening, and he told Ricky he'd met some beautiful American girls, who were mad for him, but he had to tell them all that he had to get back to his ship, as he was the Captain, and no one would know what to do if he wasn't there supervising. Doc overheard him, and he stuck his head through the serving hatch. 'Get lost, you grease monkey.' he shouted. 'The only girls you met were in your dreams.' Charlie laughed. 'It's true , Doc, honest. As true as I'm riding this bike.' 'Get back down below, you've been having those funny hallucinations again.' Ricky got his breakfast and joined Charlie at the table, telling him about the pool hall and the money he'd won. Charlie listened, then said, 'Be careful in places like that. At the first sign of trouble, get out of there fast ! Some of these guys over here are crazy. They'd kill someone for a few dollars.' The last of the men had eaten and Ricky cleared up after them and washed down the tables, before sinking his arms in the suds and doing the crockery and cutlery . After finishing in the galley, Ricky went out on deck and joined the rest of the crew in cleaning and maintenance work. They had stripped a part of the windlass on the fo'c'sle, and his job was to clean up the parts with a bucket of diesel, so that the engineers could inspect them, before renewing any parts. It was hot on the deck and he stripped off to his shorts. He had become a nice, even, brown colour on the trip down from the U.K. Doc was the barber on board and had cut his hair in a crew cut. He was filling out physically with the good food and constant exercise, so much so that he wondered if his Mum would recognise him when he got back home. It seemed like a lifetime since he had joined the ship, but it was only just over four weeks. He would have some good stories to tell his mates back at home after this trip, and he would have the new clothes and cowboy boots to prove where he'd been. They would be green with envy! He spent the day with the Engineers, and managed to get through the day without breaking or losing anything. The nearest he came to messing something up was when he dropped a small part of machinery that he was cleaning, and it rolled towards the ship's side. He just managed to stop it before it plunged over the side into the water. The Second Engineer said that if it had gone over, Ricky would have followed it! He did his chores in the messroom after dinner, before going back out on deck to keep his cargo watch. There didn't seem to be an awful lot of grain in the hold that he was assigned to, but the Mate told him that it was deceptive, and that there was about a third of the cargo aboard already. The evening passed quite quickly, and it was as Dave had said, the Crane man knew what he was doing, so all that needed to be done was keep the deck clear of spilled cargo. At Midnight he was relieved by an Able Seaman who was not happy to be working the night shift, and groused for ten minutes before Ricky was able to get away. Covered in dust from the cargo, he showered and went straight to bed. He'd had a long day, and was very soon asleep. Next day, Doc let him lie in until six thirty again, and he hauled himself out of his bunk trying to open his sticky eyes. Running the water in the sink and holding his head under it helped, and he pulled on his clothes and joined Doc in the galley. He was used to the same routine now, so he got on with his jobs after getting a cup of tea. Doc was in good form again, telling Nigel stories with a poker face, trying to wind him up. He managed to upset him most days, and today he told Nigel that the Chief Steward wanted all the stewards to help out with the cargo watches. Nigel shot off to see the Chief Steward, and Doc had leaned on the sink laughing like a maniac. 'He'll never learn,' he said. 'One day, he'll get his own back.' Ricky said. 'He'll never put one over on me, I'm not as gullible as he is.' Ricky spent that day out in the sun, working with the Bosun. They changed two of the mooring lines that had got frayed, by hauling new lines out of the forward locker, and substituting them for the old ones. Ricky tripped over the rope on the deck and sat down heavily, much to the Bosun's amusement. Ricky didn't think it was funny, though, his backside was sore! Changing them over took all morning and in the afternoon the Bosun cut out the worn bits on the two they'd changed, and spliced them together again. It was a long job handling the huge ropes, and Ricky had his work cut out laying the ropes out on deck in snakes and feeding the old, frayed bits to the Bosun when he needed them. He had to drape the rope over his shoulder and drag it up the deck to where the Bosun was sat. It was exhausting work, and he fell over a couple more times before they'd finished. They completed the two ropes and stowed them away just before dinner, so Ricky had to go straight into the messroom and lay up the tables.There was no work for him that evening, so he was free to go ashore, and he hurried through his jobs after dinner to get showered and changed. Doc stopped him as he was going over the gangway. 'Watch your step if you go to the pool room,' he advised. 'If any trouble starts, get under a table.' Ricky laughed. 'Okay Doc.' He walked down the gangway shaking his head, thinking old Doc's a worrier. The gangway was not as steep as it had been the first night that he went ashore, a sure sign that the ship was filling up with grain. Walking through the dockyard he stopped at the dry docks to see what progress had been made on the two ships there, and was amazed to see that both had had their bottoms scraped and painted, and the one with the new propeller had had all the scaffolding taken away from it. They certainly worked quick over here he thought. Men were still on the decks working on the winches and windlasses, so they were not completely finished. Both ships looked brand new with their nice new paint. He came out of the docks and walked up the streets towards the pool hall. Bars and shops were ablaze with neon lights even though it was not yet dark, and he stopped to look in the store windows. Everything that you could possibly imagine was on sale. There was even a store full of guns of all types, shapes and sizes. Revolvers, automatics, shotguns, machine pistols, and all the ammunition to go with them. Spicy and aromatic smells came from the delicatessens, mixed in with fresh bread, cheeses, dried fruits and fresh meats. Fruit and vegetable shops with items that he'd never seen or heard of before. Liquor stores packed with a mind boggling assortment of wines, beers, and spirits. Pawnbrokers and jewellers, Laundromats, restaurants and drug stores, all doing good business, by the amount of people in each. The number of cars on the streets was amazing! They were everywhere, huge chromium plated cars with fins on their backs, cars with engines showing, small wheels in the front and bigger ones in the back, open sports cars, yellow taxis, limousines, cars painted in garish colours and old rusty ones. It seemed like no one walked in Port Arthur, they drove up to the store they wanted, parked outside it, then drove away loaded up. How different it was to his home town where you were lucky if you saw two or three cars in a day. There were certainly no bright coloured cars at home, they were all black! He dawdled outside the store next to the pool hall, eying up the range of boots in the window. They started at eight dollars a pair, and he had six. He thought, maybe tonight I can win some more money. A voice said, 'Hi, Ricky.' It was Slim, on his way into the pool hall. 'Hello, Slim. I was just about to go in.' 'Well, come on, lets go. I'm meeting a couple of the guys here. We can make up a four hander.' They went in, and Slim headed for the guy he'd been playing with before Ricky met him. There was another young man with him, and they were playing together on a table in the corner. 'This is Ricky.' Slim said to the other two. 'These two guys are Chuck and Al' 'Hi, Ricky.' they chorused. Chuck held out his hand. 'Call me Chuck.' Ricky shook the offered hand. 'I'm Al.' the other one said and shook hands. 'My Dad's called Al, sometimes,' Ricky said. 'It's short for Alfred. What's yours short for? ' 'I'd rather not say,' he said looking away. 'Its Alphonso, that's what it is.' Slim said. 'And he can't stand it. Chuck's short for Charles.' Al was shorter than Ricky, with very black hair and black eyes. He looked like there was some Mexican in his family as his skin was a golden brown colour. Chuck was as tall as Slim, with fair, almost white hair and blue eyes. The three of them were dressed in jeans and Tee Shirts, with baseball boots. It seemed to be a uniform, as nearly every teenager in the hall was dressed the same. They watched as the two lads finished their game, then racked the balls up for a foursome, spinning up for partners, the losers to pay for the table. Chuck and Ricky were drawn together, and they lost the first frame, but won the second and third. They asked Ricky what it was like living in South Wales and he told them about his family's house, with no electricity, and candles to light the way at night. They thought he was joking at first, but soon believed him when he went on to describe the gas lighting, and fuelling the fires with wood and small coal, and sometimes coke which they had to carry from the gas works. 'What car does your old man drive?' Slim asked. Ricky looked at him, startled. 'No one that I know of has got a car. The only people who could afford cars would be Doctors and very rich people, I expect.' 'Damn, everyone drives cars here. I'll be getting one for my birthday next month,' Slim said. 'Yeah, I got a Ford.' Chuck told him. 'Few dollars down and a few dollars a month.' Al joined in. 'Hell, I'm building one from used spare parts. You get a body and chassis for a few bucks, then get the rest from the breakers. There's hundreds of cars crashed every day around here. Sometimes you can get the wrecks for nothing.' Ricky was impressed! What a country ! Even the kids had cars! The three American boys were all around seventeen years old, having been in the same class at school, and were working in Port Arthur. Slim worked in a delicatessen, Chuck worked in a meat packing plant, and Al was a trainee mechanic in a garage. They played three more games, then Slim suggested they go across the street to the bowling Alley, as there was no action in the pool hall, so they hung up their cues and crossed the street. The bowling arena was huge, with twelve bowling lanes, most of them occupied by teams or families. There was a bar selling soft drinks and ice creams, and seats around the end of each alley in a semicircle. Behind the semicircles there were rows and rows of tables and chairs. The noise was incredible! A mixture of laughter, conversation, cheers, screams and cursing. They booked an alley and changed into the special shoes that were on hire. The bowling balls were a lot bigger than the skittle balls that Ricky had used at home, with holes in them for placing your fingers in. There were ten pins at the end of the alley, and when some of them were knocked down, a machine automatically replaced them on the diamond. Slim showed Ricky how to hold the ball, sight it at the pins, run a few steps to the start line and throw the ball, following through with his arms and body. His first ball missed completely, but his next hit seven pins down and he gave a great shout of exhilaration, joining the others who cheered like mad. They formed themselves into two teams, competing against each other, and played for an hour. Ricky threw a lot of his balls off the alley completely, and on one occasion, couldn't let go of the ball and ended up sliding down the alley with the ball still attached to his hand. The onlookers thought it hilarious! 'Funniest game of ten pin I've ever played,' Slim laughed wiping his eyes. They sat at one of the tables watching the other players. Some of the teams that were playing had special shirts on with their names on the back. There were Eagles, Indians, Mac's Garage, Oilers and Denny's Diner. Chuck said, 'There's a party at my place on Saturday night. My folks are away for the week, so see if you can make it, Rick.' 'Great, I should be O.K. for Saturday. I'm duty tomorrow night, so I should be off the following night.' 'We'll be at the pool room early on, so if you can make it, we'll meet you there and take you to my place in the car.' 'That's great, thanks a lot.' 'There'll be a crowd of our buddies, and a lot of girls from the college, so we should have a great night.' 'Yeah, the last one we had lasted all night,' Slim said. 'That was at my place,' Al joined in. 'It took me nearly a week to clean the place up before the folks got back.' 'We helped.' Slim reminded him. 'Oh, yeah, you helped allright. If you hadn't been there it would have taken three days, instead of a week. ' 'Well, you can't work all the time. You gotta take it easy sometimes.' 'You took it easy all the time! I was the one scrubbing the carpets when you were sleeping on the couch.' 'I made the coffee!' 'Big deal!' Al told Ricky how the other two had turned up to help him clean up, and Chuck had ended up in the garage working on Al's car. Slim had lazed about, getting in the way, and Chuck had capped it all by coming in to the house with oil on his shoes, treading it into the carpets. They could laugh about it now, but at the time Al had nearly murdered the pair of them. Time was getting on, and Ricky had to be back onboard by midnight, so he told the American boys that he would have to leave.