Innocent on the run Part 2.

Brian and Ricky walked home through the town to the East side. ‘Another plastic cup for the mantlepiece,’ Ricky said, eyeing his prize. Brian laughed, ‘Yea, but think about it, one day it could be a gold cup or even a Lonsdale belt.’ Ricky’s turn to laugh, ‘Maybe one day we’ll win a cup big enough to drink a pint out of.’ ‘You could keep it behind the bar in the King Billy,’ Brian chuckled. ‘If the landlord gets changed,’ he added. ‘This one’s a miserable so and so.’ ‘I know,’ Ricky agreed. ‘ Did you hear him ask me if I was eighteen last Saturday? He nearly didn’t serve us.’ ‘We could try the Royal this week.’ ‘No fear. That’s too near home. My old man goes in there.’ They stood on the corner of Brian’s street. ‘I’m fed up with this town,’ Brian said. ‘Wish someone would give us a chance to get away to sea.’ He kicked a stone into the gutter. ‘Let’s try the docks again tomorrow,’ Ricky suggested. ‘Okay. I know a few more ships came into port yesterday. We may be lucky this time.’ ‘Okay, see you in the morning. I’ll be around about eleven.’ Brian turned to walk up his street. ’See you, Rick.’ Ricky walked up the hill towards his home, wondering if the next day would be the one where they got a ship together. Their burning ambition was to go to sea and for over a year they had trailed around the docks, boarding every new arrival, asking the same question of anyone in authority, ‘ Do you need a deck boy or galley boy, please?’ They had always been refused but they never gave up. They both knew that there were three methods of getting away to sea in the nineteen fifties. You either went to Nautical College where your parents paid the fees for your apprenticeship, you went to a Seaman’s training school or you knew someone who could get you a job on a ship by recommending you to the captain. Nautical College was out of the question for the two boys as their families were large and everyone had to earn a living to make ends meet. Ricky's dad was a fireman in the local fire brigade and his Mum was a part time cook at the fire station. His dad's wage was just enough to pay the rent on their tiny house, and pay for the essentials like groceries, coal and gas bills. There was no electricity in the house and only gas lighting in the living room and kitchen. When going to bed they used candles to light the way. The only entertainment, apart from amusing themselves by reading or playing cards and games, was the Radio Relay, which was a radio signal piped in to the houses by the local Radiocommunications Company. They paid a rental for the receiver and could switch in either of two programmes. Three months training in Liverpool at the Seaman’s training school was a non- starter for the same reason, and as they knew no one with influence, they trailed around the docks, hoping that a Captain would one day give them a chance. Some of their friends had done it that way in the past. Ricky had seen Merchant Seamen pay off vessels in the town and splash their bundles of money around, buying new suits and shoes, treating their families to luxuries and generally having a good time. He’d listened to their stories of visiting exotic ports; meeting beautiful dusky maidens and he’d been green with envy. He wanted the same for himself and couldn’t wait for the new life of excitement, money and adventure to start. If it meant trailing around the docks every day, enquiring on every vessel regardless of nationality and flag, then that was what he would do. As Ricky approached school leaving age, his parents tried to get him into an apprenticeship. They made sure that he applied to the local council and to the factories in the area, as well as the Dock's Board. He was interested in carpentry and had made some useful items from wood in the woodwork class at school, but there were too many boys chasing the same apprenticeships and Ricky was unlucky. He also tried for entry into the building school in Cardiff, and although he passed the entrance exam, they offered places to the Cardiff boys first, so he was unlucky again. Some of Ricky's mates got apprenticed to bricklayers, some to roofers, and some to painters. A lot went on to the railway as cleaners, which eventually led to them becoming firemen, and then drivers. Ricky's elder brother had started as a cleaner but was now a fireman. A few of the boys who left school that year had managed to get apprenticeships as electricians, but they were all from the grammar school. The Secondary Modern school, as it was called now, provided a good, solid, but basic education, which was adequate for most employers in the town. The companies associated with the docks took on apprentices in the engineering and electrical trades. The Docks board itself took on Boilermakers, Pipefitters, Sheet Metalworkers, Laggers, Shipwrights and Riveters. Riveting ships sides was a dangerous and very dirty job. The riveter would heat up the rivets to red heat, pick one up in his tongs and throw it to the apprentice, who would catch it in a bucket, before fishing it out with his tongs and shoving it in the hole in the steel plate on the ship's side. Other riveters would then apply the hammers to flatten out the rivet. Ricky didn't fancy that job at all. He'd heard stories of boys being burnt, when they missed catching the red hot rivet in the bucket, and it had landed on them. Copyright 2005 by Deric Barry

Innocent on the Run

Innocent on the Run By Deric Barry A young lad’s first trip to sea turns into a disaster when his ship sails without him, leaving him stranded in America. A string of misfortunes including kidnap, bank robbery, attempted murder and shipwreck follow him as he tries to get back home to the United Kingdom. Copyright 2005 by Deric Barry All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the copyright owner. This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Chapter 1. Ricky jabbed with his left fist then crossed with his right. The right hander landed on his opponents jaw and the lad staggered backwards. Ricky was on him in a flash, pummelling his body with quick lefts and rights. His opponent was on the ropes covering up as best he could as Ricky slammed the punches home, scoring every time. The referee hovered around the fighters watching intently as the boy on the ropes tried to avoid further punishment. The bell suddenly rang out to end round two and the referee’s arm came down in between the boxers. ‘Stop,’ he shouted. Ricky stepped back and went to his corner. He slumped down on the stool breathing heavily and his second flapped a towel in his face. He sloshed the wet sponge on Ricky’s face and handed him the bottle to rinse his mouth out. ‘That’s one round each,’ the second said, pulling Ricky’s shorts away from his stomach to assist his breathing. ‘Keep up the pressure in the last round and you’ll win it.’ Ricky nodded and spat water into the bucket outside of the ring. ‘He’s tiring,’ the second went on. ‘His punches have lost their sting. Get to the centre of the ring and make him do the running around. ‘Okay,’ Ricky answered. The timekeeper called, ‘Seconds out of the ring. Third and 4 last round.’ Ricky’s second slid out of the ring under the top rope as the bell rang to start the last round. The boxers met in the centre of the ring and touched gloves. The referee called out, ‘Box.’ Ricky led with his left, his opponent blocked it with his right hand and shot his own left out towards Rick’s head. Ricky slipped it over his left shoulder and hooked him to the body with his left. His opponent danced away and Ricky gained the centre of the ring. His opponent danced back in and threw two lefts in succession followed by a right which Ricky blocked with his left then countered with a right into the other boy’s body. The boy bent forward slightly to lessen the blow’s impact and Ricky sent a crashing left hook over the top of the boy’s guard. It caught him on the point of the jaw and he staggered sideways under the force of the blow. Ricky leapt at him and crashed a right hand into his head. The boy’s legs buckled and he dropped to his knees. The referee danced in between the boxers and stopped Ricky by putting an arm up in front of him. As the boy got to his feet, the referee looked at him closely and waved him back to his corner, knowing that the lad had had enough, and to continue would have meant further punishment for him. The fight was over! Ricky leaped into the air waving his arms in triumph as the crowd cheered and stamped their feet. Ricky’s second congratulated him as he handed him a towel to wipe the sweat out of his eyes. ‘Great last round,’ he said, starting to untie Ricky’s gloves. 5 Ricky grinned. ‘I’m glad it didn’t go on any longer,’ he panted. ‘I’d almost had it myself.’ The referee called the boxers to the centre of the ring and stood them on either side of him. When the applause and noise had died down a little, the Master of Ceremonies announced, ‘Ladies and Gentlemen. By a technical knockout in the third round, the winner is Davies in the blue corner.’ The crowd roared as Ricky’s hand was held aloft by the referee. His team were boxing in the inter-club championships against clubs from all across South Wales. Ricky’s club was the Barry Boys’ Club and he’d been training there since he was eleven years old. He was now fifteen in the year 1951, and he was a lightweight. Still panting from exertion, Ricky joined his team mates at the back of the hall. Brian Proctor, his best mate laughed. ‘Nice going, Rick.’ He slapped Ricky on the back. Brian had fought in the bout before Ricky’s and had out pointed his opponent. They watched the rest of the bouts, cheering their team mates on, yelling like mad when they won, commiserating with the fighter when he lost. At the end of the competition, points were tallied up and the prizes awarded. Barry Boy’s Club had come a respectable third overall, which they thought was an excellent result, as seven clubs had taken part.

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Sausage casserole

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