Innocent on the run. Part 9.

Doc was preparing breakfast. He slid a tray of bacon and sausages in the oven and started opening tins of tomatoes. There were steel bars about two inches high around the top of the galley stove and also across the middle to keep the pots and pans from sliding off the stove in rough weather. 'Breakfast is from 7.30 to 8.30.' Doc told him. 'So that the crew going on watch at 8 o'clock can eat before they go on, and the ones coming off at 8 o'clock can have theirs. Same breakfast most days. Sausage, bacon, eggs, tomatoes, fried bread, and they can make their own toast and tea. The crew come to the hatchway between the messroom and the galley and order what they want. Have you filled the boiler?' he asked. 'Yes.' Ricky squawked. Doc looked at him. 'You seasick?' He asked. Ricky bent over and leaned his head on the sink. 'Oh, God,' he moaned. 'Don't be sick in that sink,' Doc warned. 'There's a heads over the other side of the passageway.' Ricky raised his head from the sink, ‘Heads?’ He squeaked. ‘Toilet,’ Doc informed him. 'I won't be sick,' Ricky replied, feeling dreadful. 'Best thing for seasickness is work. After you've done the dishes, you can mop out the messroom. That should take us up to breakfast time.' A slim young man appeared in the doorway. He was dressed in a white shirt, bow tie, black trousers and highly polished black shoes. 'Morning Doc.' He whispered in a soft, effeminate voice. 'What's for breakfast?' Doc looked at him with a scowl. 'The same that's been for breakfast for the last six months that I've been on this horrible, friggin' vessel,' he said. 'Oh, dear,' replied the man,' got out of our bunk on the wrong side have we.' He noticed Ricky by the sink, staring at him. 'OOh! who's this, Doc?' he asked. 'That's my new boy, Ricky. And don't you go corrupting him,' Doc warned, waving a teatowel at him. 'As if I would,' he squeaked. 'This is Nigel, the Officers Steward,' Doc told Ricky. 'Stay away from him, he's trouble.' 'Oh, you beast Doc, I'm not, ' he said. 'Anyway, it's nice to meet you Ricky, and don't listen to Doc, he's just a rough old sailor.' Nigel gathered up the sauces and condiments that he would need up in the Officer's Saloon, just under the bridge, and placed them in the dumb waiter in the corner of the galley. He pulled on the rope alongside it and they disappeared upwards. 'Bye, Ricky,' he said, and waved his fingers as he went out. 'Come on, Rick, It'll be lunch time if we don't get a move on,' Doc moaned. Ricky finished the washing up and then got the mop and bucket out from the heads opposite, and washed the messroom floor. It was almost 7.30 by the clock in the messroom and men were beginning to drift in to breakfast, when Ricky accidentally kicked over the bucket of water. There was water everywhere, swilling around as the ship rolled. The men were laughing at his plight, and he hurriedly mopped up, feeling very embarrassed. 'Right,' Doc said. 'I've done the breakfasts for the officer's saloon.' He indicated the trays of hot food. 'Put those in that dumb waiter and haul them up to Nigel.' Charlie came in, yawning and scratching himself. 'Hiya Rick, how do you feel?' he asked. 'A bit sick,' Ricky replied. 'You'll get used to it, we all do.' 'Knock off for a bit," Doc shouted. 'Come and get your breakfast.' Ricky didn't really want to eat anything but he didn't want anyone to know how sick he felt, so he went into the galley. Doc had his back to him at the stove, and as Ricky approached he turned and offered him a plate with a large lump of white fat, swimming in grease. Ricky 's stomach heaved and he dashed out to the toilet. There were four faces grinning at him through the messroom hatchway as he ran past with his hand over his mouth. Doc roared with laughter! When he came out of the heads, Doc made him eat some dry toast and drink a cup of tea. The men going on watch were drifting away to their duties, and Ricky was able to clean up the tables again, before the next lot came in. He felt terrible, his head ached and his stomach churned around making gurgling noises Wind was coming up from his stomach in a series of mild burps. The sight of the spilled food and slops on the tables made him heave. As Ricky was cleaning a table, a lad of about seventeen came into the mess. He came across to where the new lad was working. 'You must be the kid who did the pier head jump,’ he stated. 'Yes. Call me Rick.’ The lad's face hardened. I'll call you what I like, mate, he spat out. . I had to go to training school to get my job as deck boy. Three bloody hard months with no money. You jump straight into a job with no training and no experience. He stabbed a finger into the younger lad's chest. Keep out of my way or you'll be sorry. He turned away and got himself a cup of tea. Ricky was astonished! He'd had no idea that someone would resent him getting a job on the ship. He turned back to his work trembling. Once the second sitting for breakfast had finished Ricky cleaned up for the last time. Copyright by Deric Barry 2005.