Innocent on the run. Part 26.

'When can you start?' the boss asked. Ricky was taken aback, 'R,right away,' he stammered. 'Okay, go see Frank in the workshop, and take this flat tyre with you. He'll find you some coveralls. Ten bucks a week and I buy lunch.' 'Thanks very much,' Ricky said. 'Call me Joe. Honest Joe. That's me,' he said pointing upwards. Ricky looked up and saw the sign above the car sales. 'Honest Joe's Auto's ' Joe grinned, 'What do they call you son?' 'Rick.' He turned and walked over to the workshop, rolling the punctured wheel with him. There was a man inside working on an engine on the bench. 'Frank?' he asked. 'What?' Frank snarled. 'Joe says to find me some coveralls.' The guy threw his spanner on to the bench with a clatter. 'Shit, do I have to do everything around here?' Ricky followed him across to a steel cupboard and caught the pair of overalls that he threw at him. Frank threw a ripped and stained pair of baseball boots on to the floor. He looked at Ricky. 'That's all we got, take it or leave it.' Frank was the same height as Ricky, with black, slicked down hair. His face was pockmarked all over, and his black, fiery eyes stared at Ricky over a huge beaked nose. He was middle aged and weighed about twelve stones. He stared as Ricky put the overalls on over his clothes. 'You'll sweat you're balls off like that, dopey.' he said, wiping his hands on an oily rag. He indicated a door behind him. 'Go change into them in the rest room.' Ricky went into the filthy room, gritting his teeth. This guy had already got up his nose, and he hadn't started work yet. The rest room, as he called it, was a toilet with one pedestal in an unbelievably filthy condition. An oily, cracked sink and a disgustingly dirty roller towel were fixed to the opposite wall, and any paint that had been on the walls had peeled off years before, the cracked and dirty plaster showering off in clouds of dust when you brushed against the wall. Imprints of oily hands had impregnated the wood around the door handle, leaving it blackened and stained. The floor was covered in old rags, empty oil tins, cigarette packets, gum wrappers and cigar stubs. The rubbish from years of neglect! He took the overalls off again, then stripped to his underpants, taking care not to let his clothes touch the floor or walls, before putting the overalls back on. He changed out of his boots into the baseball boots. They were a bit tight on him, but as Frank had said, 'That's all we got, ' he had no choice. Bundling his clothes up, he took them out with him. 'Where can I put these ?' he asked. Frank was working on the engine again, and he pointed with a spanner at the cupboard where he'd found the overalls. Joe came in as Ricky was putting his clothes away. 'Got a nice little job for you, Rick.' He led the way back out to the forecourt and showed Ricky where the hose pipe and cleaning materials were kept, instructing him to wash all the cars, starting with the ones nearest the road and working back. Ricky counted them, and found that there were forty cars on the site, all of different sizes and colours. He worked his way through them steadily and had done the first row of eight when the hose pipe snagged on something and wouldn't move any further. Ricky stood back and tugged it, but it didn't move, so he yanked on it with all his strength and it came free at the same time as he heard a tinkle of breaking glass. He looked back along the length of hosepipe to a knot in the pipe where a wing mirror from one of the cars was trapped, swinging free from the car that it should have been fixed to. 'Shit.' he whispered in panic. He'd ripped a wing mirror off. He dashed over to the car with the mirror in his hand and balanced it back in the hole it had popped out from, hoping that it wouldn't be noticed. He swept the broken glass up in his hand and looked around. No one had noticed, Joe was in his office out of sight, so he dumped the broken glass under the back of the furthest car from the front. Joe came out of the office about an hour later, and called him in for a cup of coffee. 'Where you from, kid ?' he wanted to know. 'I'm over from England on a holiday, but I ran out of money.' 'Okay, so when are you going back ?' 'I can go back any time.' 'So you got an open ticket, huh ?' 'Yes.' 'You're folks are not with you?' 'No, I came on my own.' 'How did you get here? ' 'By sea.' 'The ship came right here to Houston?' 'No, Port Arthur. Is there a dock here at Houston ?' 'There sure is. The ship canal brings them right up to the city.' Ricky's heart skipped a beat. Oh, great! Maybe he could find a ship to take him home. Joe said, 'Frank and me've got to deliver a car to a customer soon, so you'll be in charge here. If anyone wants anything, stall them until we get back, O.K.' 'Yes, O.K.' 'For now, keep washing them cars, buddy.' Ricky went back to washing the cars, happy at the thought of jumping on a ship and being taken home. Joe came out twenty minutes later and called him over to the office. 'Here's the keys to that Chevvy on the end. Bring it over here outside the office to clean it. That way you can answer the phone if it rings.' Ricky looked at the keys. 'Uh, I can't drive.' Joe looked at him in amazement. 'Can't drive ? Course you can drive, it's easy. Look I'll show you how.' He took Ricky over to the Chevvy and showed him where to put the keys in the ignition. 'Put the lever in Park,' he said, pointing to the automatic gear selector. 'Start the engine with the key, then put the lever in Drive, and the car moves. When you put your foot on the gas, it goes faster, put your foot on the brake, it stops. Simple?' he asked. 'Uh, yes. It looks easy.' 'Okay, get in and do it.' Ricky slid behind the steering wheel and looked out over the huge bonnet. It was vast! He made sure the lever was in Park, then turned the key. The engine purred into life. Joe was watching him, nodding his head in encouragement. He slipped the lever into Drive and the big car crept forward. The car had to be turned right, out of the line of vehicles, so Ricky started turning the wheel slowly. Where the actual front of the car was, he had no idea, as he didn't know how much chrome plated bumper stuck out from the front of the bonnet. Joe directed him, waving him on, and when he'd gone far enough, held up a hand to stop him. He signalled for Ricky to go back and turn the wheel the other way. Joe dashed around the back while Ricky found reverse, and stopped him again when he'd reversed enough. Now he could see that he was clear of the other vehicle in front of him, so he crept forwards again and drew up outside the office. He felt exhausted! The sweat was pouring out of him and running into his eyes. 'There you go,' Joe grinned. 'Now you can drive.' Frank came out of the garage, got into his car and started the engine. He waited while Joe got into the Ford that he had to deliver, and followed when he pulled off the forecourt. Joe shouted out the window, 'Back in twenty minutes.' and waved as they sped off. Ricky started cleaning the Chevvy, and was half way around the enormous car when he heard a car pull on to the tarmac in front of the office. He straightened up and started to panic when he found he was looking at a police car, and the cop was already getting out of it. He looked wildly around him, trying to decide which way to run, when the cop waved him over. 'Hey, kid.' he called. Ricky dropped the sponge he was using. This was it. He was caught. He could almost feel the handcuffs snapping on to his wrists and hear the prison door creaking open, as he walked dejectedly towards the policeman. Copyright Deric Barry 2005.

Innocent on the run. Part 25.

Chapter 7. Ricky walked along the road into Houston, past factories and giant stores. People were leaving work for the day, driving out through factory gates in their enormous cars. Everything was larger than life in the States, he thought. They certainly had plenty of space, the roads were all very wide and the buildings set back a long way from their fronts. It was around five o'clock, he guessed, not having a watch to confirm it. He hadn't eaten since he was in Port Arthur and he was feeling quite hungry. Finding a place to stay the night was going to be a problem, as he couldn't afford to rent a room, so would have to keep his eyes open for a suitable place. One thing in his favour was that it didn't get really cold at night. Once he found a job and a room, he would get a change of clothes. There were a lot of garages along this route, selling petrol, repairing and selling cars, and he thought he would try them for a job the following day. As long as he kept well away from the city centre and didn't cause any trouble, he was sure he would be O.K. He thought about sending a letter to his parents, telling them that he was alright and not to worry about him, but he abandoned the idea after a while. After all, they wouldn't normally hear from him until the ship got to the next port. He had sent a postcard from Port Arthur telling them it was a great place, and the weather was marvellous, so their minds would be at rest for a while longer. There was a hamburger stand on the next corner so he bought a coke and a burger which staved off the hunger for a while. What he would have given for a fish and chip shop! He walked on down the block and saw a pool hall on the other side of the street, so he crossed over at the lights and went in. It was pretty much the same layout as the one in Port Arthur, but a bit more run down, a bit seedier. There were quite a few people playing, so he sat on the bench and watched a game. Two men were playing and they made some good shots, but after watching for a while he began to get bored. It was no fun on your own, watching the door all the time in case the police came in. A foursome on a table over in the corner were playing a game amid gales of laughter, so he went across to see what it was all about. He managed to find a seat near to the table, mixing with the crowd of onlookers. One guy, a short, fat little man was clowning around as the others were trying to get their shots in. If a ball went near to a pocket he would get down level with the table and blow hard on it, trying to stop it from going in the pocket. As someone bent over the table to take a shot, he put his cue between the guy's legs and rubbed it up and down. When it came to his turn he danced around the table, quickly sighting on two or three different balls before striking the cue ball with the wrong end of his cue. His partner in the game had a bald head, and as he bent over to take a shot, the little guy shielded his eyes and shouted, 'Quick switch his head off, he's blinding me! Once, he tapped him on the head with his cue and shouted, 'Don't miss this, melon head.' The crowd was getting bigger, and the laughter was rocking the place, when someone said, 'Lookout, here comes that miserable bastard Willie.' A sour faced individual was making his way through the crowd to the table, and the laughter died. The little fat guy didn't care though. 'Hiya, Willie,' he grinned. 'What's up?' 'What's up.' he barked. 'There's other guys trying to play here as well as you lot. Now cool it, or hit he streets.' The little guy laughed, 'Okay,Willie. Fancy a game yourself, do you?' Sour face looked daggers at him, turned around and left. The others were trying their hardest not to laugh as Willie stamped back to his desk. 'Fancy a game, do you.' the bald headed one mimicked. 'You know he lost a fortune to that hustler last week, you jerk.' The little guy roared, doubling up with laughter! 'I know. Couldn't have happened to a nicer bastard.' He recovered a little of his composure and added, 'Just because he owns the place, you'd think he owns the place.' The crowd was filtering away now and the room settled down again. Ricky stayed where he was to watch the rest of the game, but it wasn't as much fun as before. Sour face had killed the atmosphere. The players still enjoyed themselves though, and the fat guy kept doing outrageous things to the other players, but it was a bit quieter. Ricky stayed in the pool hall until nine o'clock, then went outside to look for somewhere to spend the night. He walked towards the city centre through a very run down neighbourhood. The buildings were all in a very sorry state, some with windows smashed and doors hanging off, others with their windows boarded over, no roofs on them, or ceilings hanging down inside. There were plenty of people around, and kids were playing in the street among the debris and garbage. Others were sat on the steps of the buildings that were inhabited, talking, laughing, or shouting abuse at one another. There was every colour of person imaginable, white, black, yellow, and every shade of brown. Descendants of people from dozens of different countries, Mexicans, Africans, Hispanics, Germans, Greeks, Swedes, Italians, Irish and English, as well as countless numbers of Eastern European countries. It was a truly cosmopolitan part of the city. Ricky thought he would blend in here without too many questions being asked about him. He stood on the corner of the block and wondered what to do next. His final plan was to get enough money together to be able to travel to a port to try to get back home. Where the nearest port was, he didn't yet know. Maybe there was a port in Houston itself. He would have to find out. A black kid of about eleven approached on roller skates. He did a turn around Ricky and stopped. 'Hey, dude.' he said. 'Hi.' Ricky answered. 'What's up?' 'Nothing, I'm just thinking.' 'You want to play ball?' Ricky thought for a moment. 'Okay.' 'Come on, then.' and he skated slowly around to the back of the house on the corner. 'Call me Chip.' he shouted over his shoulder. 'I'm Ricky.' he answered, following the skater. There were six other kids of varying ages there, playing with a basketball. They had chalked out some lines on the tarmac, suspended a basketball net on the back of the house, and another one on the house opposite. Chip sat down and took his skates off. 'Hey, you guys,' he shouted. 'This guy's going to play. His name's Rick.' 'You'll have to tell me the rules.' Ricky said. 'We don't have no rules.' One of them shouted, which brought a laugh from the others. They divided up into teams and played for about an hour. It was an easy game, as they seemed to get the ball, run to their opponents net and try to get it through the hole. Then the other team would get the ball, run down the other end and have a try at their net. It was warm work, running up and down the pitch, and Ricky was sweating after a while. He lost count of the score, but Chip was keeping tally, adding a few on to his side's score when he thought he could get away with it. Suddenly a woman's voice yelled out of the window of the house opposite, 'Jerome! Jerome !' One of the young lads winced! 'Oh, Oh,' he said. 'Jerome, get in here. Come on now, I don't want to have to come and get you.' He shuffled off as if going to the electric chair. 'See you tomorrow, guys.' The game broke up then, and the other lads slowly dispersed. Chip sat down to put his skates on. 'Where you live, Rick?' 'I'm looking for a place.' he answered. 'Nowhere to go, huh ?' 'Not yet.' 'My Ma takes in boarders, since my old man went to jail. Let's go see her.' He got up and skated alongside Ricky to one of the houses on the main street. He led the way up the front steps and up two more flights of stairs to a door marked 7. The door had been painted in a brown colour many years before, but now the paint had gone dry and cracked. Large splits had appeared in the wood, and someone had carved his initials in the door. W.P. Chip opened the door and motioned Ricky inside. A Female voice said, 'That you Chip?' 'Yeah, Ma. I got a visitor.' A large black lady got up from a chair and put her newspaper down. 'This is Rick. He's got no place to stay.' 'Good evening.' Ricky said. 'My,' Chip's Mother said. 'A Gentleman! We don't get many gentlemen around here. Ricky blushed! 'No place to stay, huh ? Well, you can stay right here with us.' 'Thank you very much, Mrs? 'You call me Dottie. What you doin' in this neighbourhood, Rick? you ain't American! 'No, I’m from England. Both of Dottie's hands flew up to her face. 'My, oh my. England! What you doing in our country? Oh, forgive my manners, please come in and sit down,' and she patted the settee. Ricky entered the sparsely furnished room and sat down on the settee. The whole room was spotlessly clean, and shining like a new pin. Apart from the settee there was an easy chair and a small coffee table. In one corner was a sink and alongside it, a cooker and a huge refrigerator. In the other corner was a kitchen table and four chairs The floor was covered with linoleum, with a rug in front of the one bar electric fire. Dottie went to the refrigerator and brought out a baked ham, some cold potatoes and some bread. She piled a plate high with the food and told Ricky to sit at the table and eat. She poured milk from a large jug into glasses and gave one each to Ricky and Chip. 'Now tell me all about yourself,' Dottie commanded, and before he knew where he was, he'd started telling her the whole story. About foolishly getting drunk at the party, missing the ship, his flight from the police and his ride in the truck to Houston. She listened with her mouth open, and an occasional, 'My, Oh my.' interrupted his tale. 'Well,' she said finally, when he'd finished talking. 'That's a terrible thing to have happened to one so young as you, and we got to pray to the Lord tonight and ask Him what we should do. Ain’t nothing we can do tonight except pray, so you get some sleep now and we'll try to figure something out in the morning.' Dottie sent Chip off to bed and made up the settee into a bed for Ricky. She bustled about getting bedding for him and showed him the bathroom where he could shower if he wanted to. She went off to bed herself and wished him goodnight. Ricky stripped off in the bathroom and ran the shower. The water felt really good, washing away the dust of travelling, and he got out and towelled himself off in the snowy white towel that Dottie had left out for him. He felt like a new man! He cleaned up after himself, as he'd learnt to do on the ship, and got turned in on the sofa bed. What a day, he thought ! And what a mess! I should be on the ship now, heading across the Gulf of Mexico. Goodness knows when I'll get home! Maybe not for a long time, if they catch me and put me in jail. He dozed off thinking about ships and how he would try to get a trip back to the U.K, before he was caught and thrown in jail. The following morning he was awakened by Dottie bustling about in her tiny kitchen, getting breakfast ready. Chip was in the bathroom, getting washed ready for school, and Dottie turned around and saw that he was awake. 'I'm sorry, Rick,' she apologised, 'I didn't mean to wake you yet. You must be exhausted after yesterday.' He sat up, rubbing his eyes. 'Morning! ' he yawned. 'Did you sleep well ?' 'Yes, I don't remember much after getting into bed.' 'Praise the Lord,' Dottie said. Chip came in from the bathroom. 'Morning Chip,' he said. 'Oh Hi, Rick. Didn't expect you to be up yet.' 'I'm used to getting up early. What time is it anyway? 'Seven thirty,' Dottie answered him. Ricky swung his legs out of bed and pulled his trousers on, before making a beeline for the bathroom to wash and dress. When he came out there was a place laid at the table for him. Chip was already eating his cereals and milk. Dottie put a plate down in front of him. There were two rashers of bacon, two eggs and a hot scone, straight from the oven. The coffee pot was put on the table and Dottie sat down to join him for a cup. 'You're not eating,' he said to her. 'I can't eat that stuff, I'm too fat as it is.' Ricky got tucked in to his breakfast. It was delicious and when he had finished the scone, she put another one on his plate. Chip took one as well, but he cut his open and poured maple syrup on it. 'Now, listen,' Dottie said to Chip. 'Don't you go blabbing your mouth off about Rick being English and hiding from the police, hear?; 'Yeah, Ma.' he said, as if humouring her. 'Never mind Yeah, Ma' she said, clipping his head with her tea towel. 'You just be careful. We don't want Rick arrested. Now get out of here and go to school.' Chip gathered up his books and went out shouting, 'So long.' on the stairway outside. 'What you going to do today, Rick,' she asked as she folded up his bedding. 'Find some work, I hope. I'm going to try the garages, back down the road a bit.' 'Okay, people always need help out here. There'll be a hot meal for you when you get back tonight.' 'I want to thank you for what you've done for me ...' he started to say, but she said, 'No foolishness now. We're glad to help.' 'Yes, but you took me in not knowing anything about me.' 'We know all we needs to know. You're in trouble, that's enough to know. Now get out of here and get yourself a job.' she added sternly. He turned to go. 'Thanks, Dottie.' She waved her tea towel at him. 'Git.' He went down the stairs and out on to the street. It was hot already and still only about eight o'clock. There were not many people around yet, just a few people hurrying along to work. The first garage he came to had nothing for him. 'Too late,' the man told him. 'I hired me a man yesterday.' The next garage didn't need anyone, and the third told him to come back later as the boss wasn't there, but they didn't think he needed anyone. The next place was a car sales and repair depot and the boss was a big, red faced, fat man. He looked Ricky up and down. 'Can you change wheels, son?' Ricky had helped his brothers with their motorbikes, so he had a good idea of mechanics, and he had seen people changing wheels on their cars once or twice before, it didn't look too difficult. 'Yes, Sir,' he said, hoping he could do it without damaging anything. 'Okay, come with me.' He led the way to one of the sale cars on the forecourt. It was a huge Chevrolet, and it had a flat tyre on the back. The Boss pointed to a trolley jack across by the repair shed. 'Go get the jack and change the wheel for me.' Ricky dragged the jack across. It was on wheels and slid underneath a car. Once it was under the car and placed in the right position on the chassis, the handle turned one way so you could pump the jack up. Turning it the other way released the hydraulic pressure and the jack collapsed. The boss saw him struggling with it and showed him how it worked. 'I've never seen a jack like this before.' Ricky told him. 'Yeah, I can see that,' he replied. Ricky placed the jack under the car and found a large solid looking part of the chassis. He turned the handle and started pumping the jack up. The car rose steadily from the ground, and when it was clear he stopped pumping. The boss handed him the wheel brace, which was a spider - like spanner with six different nut sizes on it. He pulled off the wheel trim and exposed the nuts. Finding the right sized spanner on the spider, he slackened off the wheel nuts. They were very tight, but he used all his strength and they eventually gave way. Quickly removing the nuts, he slid the wheel off the brake drum, and rested it on the floor. He knew the spare wheel would be in the boot, so he went around and got it out. It was a simple matter to place the new wheel on the hub, and replace the nuts, tightening them up once they were all on. He slipped the wheel trim back on and released the jack, drawing it out from under the car when it was fully down. The boss looked at him. 'Not bad,' he said. 'Just two things. One, if that had been a front wheel, you would have had to release the wheel nuts when the wheel was on the ground. If you hadn't, when the car was in the air, the wheel would have spun when you tried to shift the nuts. As it was a back wheel, the parking brake held the wheel still while you slackened them. Two. Always tighten the wheel nuts with a last wrench when the wheel is on the ground, before you put the wheel trim on.' Oh, well, Ricky thought. I've blown it! Copyright Deric Barry 2005.

Innocent on the run. Part 24.

Keeping to the back streets, Ricky started walking. He had no idea where he was going but he had to get as much distance between himself and the docks as he could. Luckily there were a lot of people around and he was dressed pretty much the same as everyone else. After he'd been walking for an hour he went in to a burger bar and ordered Coca Cola and a sandwich. Sitting at one of the tables he tried to figure out what to do. He couldn't go to Chuck's house, even if he could find it again, as the police were bound to question Al. My God, he thought, what if they arrest Al as an accessory ! But he quickly rejected that idea. It wasn't Al's fault that he'd run away in a panic. No, the only thing he could think of was to get to another port and try to find a ship going to the U.K. Maybe he could work his passage, or even stow away. He knew the places to hide on a ship, the covered lifeboats, or the chain locker, plenty of places where he wouldn't be discovered until the ship was at sea. First, he had to find out where he was, and which direction to head in, so he drank the last of his coke and went out into the street. His headache had gone now, which was a blessing, and he headed roughly west, keeping the sun on his left. In another hour it would be midday and the sun would be scorching, directly overhead. It was hot walking so he slowed his pace and tried to keep in the shade. After walking for half an hour he saw a bus station and went in to the cool interior to look around for a map. There were maps along the length of one wall. Route maps around Port Arthur, with lists of bus numbers and times underneath, bus numbers for intercity connections, and right at the end a map of Texas. If he continued going West, he would reach Houston, a very large city, so he decided that this would be a good idea. He could get lost in the crowds of a city. Transport was the problem ! It looked to be about a hundred miles to Houston, but he didn't want to enquire at the booking office for a ticket, as the police would be bound to ask if an English kid had enquired about fares. He had three dollars in his pocket, which probably wouldn't take him very far. Leaving the bus station he carried on walking West, until he saw a sign for a Truck Stop Diner on the right hand side of the road. Maybe he could hitch a lift from one of the drivers. As he approached the car park of the diner, he could see a police patrol car with a cop sat in the driver's seat, pulled up outside it. Luckily the cop had his back to Ricky, so he ducked into a telephone booth on the pavement, and watched the car from the window. After about five minutes, another cop came out of the diner carrying some paper bags and got into the car. The driver turned in a wide circle and came out on to the road. Ricky turned his back to them, grabbed the phone and held it to his ear. When they'd gone, he breathed a sigh of relief and carried on walking to the car park. There were plenty of trucks in the car park, huge vehicles with dozens of enormous wheels, some with extra trailers towing behind. He waited until a driver came out, and crossed to meet him. 'Can you give me a lift, please,' he asked. The driver was a big man with a large belly stuck out in front of him. Without looking at Ricky, he snarled, 'Beat it,' out of the corner of his mouth and climbed into his cab. The next driver out was a little wizened guy, and when Ricky asked him the same question, he said, ' Which way you headed, kid?' ‘To Houston.' ‘Sorry, kid. I'm going East.' Ricky tried two more drivers, but had no luck. One didn't answer him and the other just shook his head. He was about to give up and start walking again when a voice said, 'No luck, kid?' He turned and saw a big man with a baseball cap on, and a grin on his face. 'No, I was just about to give up and start walking.' 'Where you headed?' 'Houston.' 'I'm going that way, come on.' He beckoned Ricky over with his head, and made his way over to a truck. Ricky climbed up the side of the truck on the steel steps fixed to the side. He missed his footing on one step in his eagerness to get in, and slipped, wrenching his arms as he took the strain. 'Damn,' he muttered as he scrambled in to the cab. It was enormous, and they were so high up that he could look over the flat roofed diner and see into the next car park. The driver started up the engine and the truck rolled forwards. It was quiet inside the cab with just a growl from the engine, and he pulled out on to the road and headed for Houston. 'Where you from, kid.' 'England.' 'Yeah, I guessed you weren't from these parts. You on vacation over here.' 'Yes, I've been doing some work, here and there.' 'What do you think of the States?' Ricky gave him the stock answer that he knew all Americans liked to hear. 'It's a great country.' 'It sure is ! The greatest country in the world. What part of England you from?' 'Wales. It's a little country to the West of England.' 'Hell, I know where Wales is. I was stationed in England in the war. In Suffolk, over on the East coast. My wife is English! We married over there and she came back to the States with me, after the war.' 'Where do you live now?' Ricky asked. 'Houma, Louisiana. A couple of hundred miles back that way.' He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. 'I’m a Cajun !' 'A what?' 'A Cajun. We speak our own form of French, and have our own culture. You see, our people were French and used to live in Acadia in Nova Scotia, way up on the Canadian side, but the English drove us out of our homes back in 1755, and the people took to their boats and ended up in Louisiana. A lot of us Cajuns live in the swamps, making a living fishing in the bijous, catching alligators and hunting. Cajun is a shortened version of Acadian.' 'There's alligators in the swamps, aren't there?' 'You bet there are. Millions of them. If I had a dollar for every 'gator I'd caught, I wouldn't be driving this truck.' 'How do you catch them ?' 'Well, there's lots of different ways. My way is to lasso the tail first, then when the head comes around to see what's going on, you lasso that as well. Then you draw the ropes together, tie the jaws up nice and tight and tie the head to the tail. That way you can roll them home like a car tyre!' 'I see,' Ricky said, doubtfully. The driver smiled to himself ! 'What do you do with them, once you've caught them.' 'Well, Sir, I like a nice steak off a 'gator. That's always tasty, and then you cure the skin and make shoes and handbags, and pretty things like that for your wife and family. The eggs are tasty as well, but you got to be careful. If you get one that's near to hatchin' out, and you boil it up, and crack it open, a little 'gator can come crawling out.' Ricky gagged, 'Oh, my God.' he groaned. The driver roared with laughter! 'DAMN, I had you going for a while there,' he shouted. Ricky laughed! 'I knew you must be joking.' he said. 'You knew? You knew, shit,' he laughed. 'There's people make a living out of telling lies in the States. They entertain on the stage with their stories, and they have competitions to see who can tell the biggest lies. 'You ought to enter. You might win.' Ricky told him. 'Not me, ' he replied. 'I'm only an amateur.' They were driving through miles and miles of flat, featureless land. The fields on either side of them stretched to the horizon, with miles of wheat, as far as the eye could see. Working across some of the fields were six combine harvesters, in line abreast, cutting and gathering the wheat in one end before spewing it out the other, tied in bundles. The road in front of them stretched to infinity, seeming to narrow towards the furthest point. It was a huge country, and this was just one state. 'Where you going to in Houston ?' the driver asked. 'Nowhere in particular, any place I can find work.' 'What kind of work can you do?' 'Painting, labouring, anything that comes up. I'm pretty good at painting, I've had a lot of experience.' 'Well, I'll drop you on the approaches to the city before I turn off, I don't go into the city itself.' 'Thanks, that'll be great!' The truck sped on towards Houston, along the arrow straight highway. There was very little traffic apart from the truck, just the occasional car or other juggernaught. Rick's driver always acknowledged the other truck drivers with a blast on the truck's wind horn. The first time Ricky heard it, he nearly jumped out of his skin, it was so loud. The driver roared with laughter, and did it once again, watching for his reaction, but he was used to it now and he wasn't caught out. They could see the skyline of Houston from miles away. Enormous skyscrapers thrusting themselves up from the ground, as if attempting to reach the sky. To Ricky they looked like the sets of bar graphs that he'd had to draw in school, different sized rectangles placed on end. As they approached the city outskirts, the scenery changed from wheat and cotton fields to factory buildings and oil wells. The oil was pumped out of the ground by huge reciprocating pumps, which looked like a bird with an enormous neck, pecking at the ground, in a slow, even, up and down movement. Before they reached the city limits, the driver turned off on to a slip road which linked up with the road he wanted to use to skirt the city. He pulled to a stop with a great hissing of brakes and said, 'This is it, kid. End of the road.' Ricky opened the door, and said, 'Thanks very much for the lift,' and offered his hand. The driver shook it and said, 'You take care now,' as Ricky climbed down to the ground. The truck pulled away and Ricky started walking down the slip road, to get off the highway before any police car came along. They would be bound to stop a hitch hiker, and he hurried to get into a built up area where he wouldn't be conspicuous. Copyright Deric Barry 2005.

Innocent on the run. Part 23.

Chapter 6. Ricky slowly regained consciousness, blinking at the daylight streaming through the window. For a second he didn't know where he was, then the realisation hit him and he sat up quickly. His head was splitting and he looked around him with narrowed eyes, shielding them against the glare from the window. He was on the carpet behind the settee, and he raised himself to his knees and looked over the back of it to the clock on the mantlepiece. It was nine twentyfive! No ! It couldn't be! His eyes weren't focusing properly! He dragged himself to his feet and stumbled across the devastated room. The mess was incredible! Beer, food, cigarettes, and ash had all been spilled on the carpet and trampled in. Empty bottles and packets, half eaten hamburgers, sausages, crisps and nuts were strewn around. There was a girl's shoe in the fireplace and a boy's shirt draped over the standard lamp. Al was snoring on the carpet in front of the fireplace and Ricky shook him until he awoke, grumbling and complaining! `What, what ?' he mumbled. `The ship. She'll be gone.' Ricky shouted, panic gripping him. `What? What ship?' `My ship. The Llanerin.' Al came awake quickly and looked at him with one eye, squinting in the daylight. He winced in pain! `What are you doing here. You went back to the ship with Tess! `No, I bloody didn't.' he shouted. `I just woke up behind the settee.' ‘Oh, Christ, man, don't yell like that.' `The ship will be gone, for Christ's sake. I'm stranded.' Al sat up, holding his head. `Coffee.' he said. `What about the ship?' `Yeah, the ship,' Al replied. `I'll get the car keys and drive you down the dock.' He stumbled into the kitchen and put the coffee pot on, then staggered up the stairs to Chuck's room. He was back in a few minutes, holding the car keys. ‘Had to search his room! He's out of it.' Ricky was sat in a chair, holding his head in his hands. He'd really screwed up this time! Of all the stupid things he'd done, this was the worst! Al went into the kitchen and came back with two cups of steaming coffee. ‘Here, drink this.' Ricky forced the bitter tasting coffee down. He grimaced! God it was horrible! Life was filtering back into Al's body. He got himself another cup of the black, sour coffee, picked up a pair of trousers from the chair opposite Ricky and threw them away, before sitting down. `Look on the bright side,' he said.` The ship may not have gone.' `They wouldn't have waited for me! I'm the bloody deck boy, not the Captain.' `Something might have happened, they might have had a break down or something. What about fuel and water, or maybe she's loading up with stores.' `No, that was all done yesterday.' Al drained his coffee. `Let's go, we'll soon find out.' They went outside into the sunshine, shielding their eyes from the sudden glare, and got into Chuck's car. Al found a pair of sun glasses on the dashboard and put them on. He backed the car off the driveway and turned in the road before driving off. They drove in silence for a while, each with his own thoughts. Ricky knew that the ship would be gone and he would be stranded! He worried what the police would do with him. They were very strict on illegally entering the country, and he didn't have any identification to prove he was who he said he was. Doc had told him that they dished out jail sentences for the slightest thing over here! He could be locked away for years, without anyone knowing where he was! What a nightmare! He'd started off wanting to go to sea, and he would end up a jailbird! What a mess! My own fault he kept repeating to himself. My own fault. Pretending I could drink beer like the rest of them. I'm just a stupid kid with no sense. Dad told me to be careful and I screwed it up. I had a good job on a ship that I loved, with good mates and people who cared about me. This is how I repay them. It's as good as spitting in their eyes. What will the Captain think of me? And Doc? He put his head in his hands in despair. Al was saying, 'we thought you'd gone back to the ship with Tess in her car, because both of you went missing around the same time. We thought it was strange that you hadn't said goodbye, but put it down to you being madly in love and forgetting everything else.' Ricky shook his head miserably. 'I've really done it this time.' They drove in to the docks and Ricky's heart gave a leap! He could see a funnel in the place where Llanerin had tied up. 'Look,' he shouted in excitement. 'She 's still there. Thank God!' Al drove faster and they approached the ship with light hearts. 'Told you she'd still be here,' Al shouted. 'Yeah !' He punched the steering wheel. As they got nearer, Ricky's heart gave a lurch and his hopes were dashed. It was a different ship. A few dockers were sweeping up the grain spillage on the quay, and Al asked one of them where the Llanerin was. 'She's long gone.' he said. 'Sailed at two this morning.' 'Shit ! Now what do I do?' Ricky asked. 'Lets go see the Harbour Master.' Al answered. 'Maybe he knows something.' They drove off after getting directions from the docker, and found the office in the corner of the dock. Ricky's stomach was in a knot, and he felt very nervous, as they entered the office. There was a large fat man sitting at a desk with his feet up and a stetson down over his eyes. 'Morning,' Al said. He lifted the stetson off his eyes. 'Hi, guys,' he said. 'What can I do for you today?' 'We're looking for the Llanerin.' Al told him. 'Well, you've missed her. She sailed this morning for Russia.' 'Damn, Damn, Damn!' Ricky thumped the counter top. The fat man looked at him. 'Hey, are you the kid they lost?' he asked. Ricky nodded. 'Yes.' 'They called me up on the radio and said you might show up.' Ricky's stomach gave another lurch of hope. 'Did they leave me any instructions?' The Harbour master lowered his feet from the desk and slowly got up from his chair. 'Well, Sir, you have to wait here while I call Immigration. Come through here, now.' He lifted the fold down counter flap to let Ricky through to the office. Al sat in one of the chairs lining the walls and waited. The Harbour Master lifted the phone and dialled a number. ‘The kid from the Llanerin's just come in,' he said into the mouthpiece. He listened for a while further and said, 'Okay,' before putting the phone down. ‘They're sending someone to see you, ' he said. 'Just relax in here,' and he opened a door behind him and ushered Ricky inside. Al made as if to follow him, but the Harbour Master said, 'That's O.K. You can wait out here.' Al sat back down again. The room that Ricky was in was bare except for two hard chairs. A window overlooked the car park. He sat on one of the chairs and wondered what they would do to him, and why they had left him alone, like a criminal. The Captain on the Llanerin would be very disappointed in him! He'd let them all down. What would Doc think of him? He'd listened to the stories that they'd told on board, of people jumping ship in Australia and South America, so that they could settle there, but he didn't want to settle here. He wanted to complete his voyage and get a Seaman's book, so that he could go to sea again. What a mess! It was his own fault, he shouldn't have drunk all that beer. It was very strong, and he wasn't used to drinking, so it had knocked him for six. He was probably trying to impress Tess, and look how impressed she would be now! He was going to jail! They were coming for him and would drag him off to jail as an illegal immigrant. He heard a siren approaching! It got louder and louder, the noise penetrating and shrill. It stopped when the car was outside the Harbour Master's office! He heard the door of the outer office open and voices. This was it! They were coming for him! He was going to jail! Ricky panicked, and jumped to his feet, looking around him in desperation! He looked at the window! It was a normal window with no bars. He threw it open, climbed over the sill and ran! He made for a group of buildings about a hundred yards away and ran for his life! Slithering to a stop around the back of one of the buildings, he leaned back on the wall, panting to get his breath. Dropping to the ground, he looked around the shed at ground level, back to the office. The window was still open, but as yet he hadn't been missed. He quickly walked away from the shed, keeping the building between himself and the Harbour Master's Office. There wasn't much time before they came looking for him, but he couldn't break into a run without drawing attention to himself. He went out through the dock gates when the guard there had gone into his inner office, and mingled with a crowd of people who were disembarking from three buses. He could hear the police siren somewhere in the background, so he knew that he'd only just made it! Copyright Deric Barry 2005.

Innocent on the run. Part 22.

'Come, on. Wakey wakey.' Doc's voice filtered through to Ricky's sleep fogged brain. 'God is it morning already,' he asked sleepily.' 'Saturday morning. Up and at 'em compadre.' Doc left the cabin and Ricky reluctantly got out of his bunk. He thought, only six hours sleep. I used to get nine or ten at home. I wonder what they're doing at home. He didn't feel at all homesick as he had thought he would. He washed and got ready for the routine of preparing breakfast and clearing up before starting work on deck. Nigel came in to the galley and turned away in a huff when Doc gave a wolf howl. He prepared his dumb waiter and hauled it up to his pantry before turning with his nose in the air and stalking off. Doc put his head out into the alleyway after him and yapped like a dog. 'You should have heard him yesterday,' Doc laughed as he told Ricky. ' He called me a despicable beast, among other things.' Doc had told everyone on board how he had scared Nigel out of his wits. He was calling Nigel, El Lupo, The Wolf ! Ricky spent the morning painting the Bosun's stores out. It was terrifically hot in there and he was glad when the job was finished. It didn't take long as it was not a very large compartment, and most of it was done with a roller on a long handle. Just before he knocked off for lunch, the American lads arrived, and he showed them in to the mess. 'Hello, boys,' Doc greeted them. 'I've put the four of you on this table.' He indicated the other crew members who were eating lunch. 'Ignore this lot, they're peasants.' 'Hey,' a sailor shouted to Doc. 'How come we don't get a table cloth like theirs.' 'Cos you don't deserve one, you common sailor,' Doc replied. 'These are our guests and they're decent people. Not like you lot of swabs. You ought to be caged in the fo'c'stle and only brought out when there's a full moon. Just like El Lupo.' The messroom rang to their laughter. Doc turned to the Americans and continued, 'If Nigel was talking to me, I'd get him to wait on you but as he's not, you'll have to come to the hatch yourselves.' They tucked in to Tomato Soup followed by Roast Beef, Yorkshire puddings, potatoes, cabbage and peas. The sweet was Manchester Tart and it was followed by coffee and cheese and biscuits. Slim sat back in his chair. 'Gee, I'm stuffed !' he said. 'Sure was a great meal, Doc,' Chuck complimented. Al rubbed his stomach.'I must have put pounds on already.' 'Chuck' Ricky enquired. 'Could you give me a lift to the store up town so I can buy a pair of boots?' 'Sure, no problem. But you don't need to pay their prices, I know of a store where we can get them a lot cheaper than up town. I'll take you there right now.' He rose from the table and the others followed suit. Slim went across to the serving hatch. 'Thanks for your hospitality, Doc.' 'No problemo.' Doc answered. 'Is it O.K. if we take Ricky up to get some boots ?' Chuck asked. 'Yes, get his boots or I'll never hear the last of it.' The three Americans said their farewells to the crew members in the mess and waved as they left. The four of them piled into the car and Chuck took them out through the docks and headed for the store a few miles out of town. He drove fast, and they were soon inside the old wooden store looking at the boots. Ricky gazed at the rows of fancy boots, practically drooling. There were dozens of styles and colours to choose from, and eventually he chose a light brown pair with fancy tooling engraved in the leather. He pulled them on and wore them in the car as they drove back to the ship. They were beautiful, shiny and sleek, with two inch heels and pointed toes. He saved two dollars on the price of them compared to the others he'd seen in the town shops. 'Okay if we drop you at the dock gates, Rick ?' Chuck asked. ' We have to get back to work.' 'Yes, that's fine. Thanks a lot for taking me.' 'No problem,' Chuck grinned. 'Instead of meeting up town tonight, I'll pick you up at the ship tonight at eight, O.K?' 'Great !' Ricky waved to them as Chuck turned the car and headed for town. It felt strange at first, walking through the docks with his new boots on, but he soon got used to them, and the extra height they gave him made him feel great. His new shirt and jeans were washed ready for the party that evening, and all that was left to do was iron them. Back onboard, Doc stared at his boots. 'Hmm,' he said. 'You'll probably fall off those heels and break an ankle.' Ricky did a little dance on the spot. 'They're great, aren't they Doc?' 'If you say so. Anyway the Bosun needs you on deck to help with the hatch covers. The cargo's loaded.' Ricky took his new boots off and put the old ones back on. He felt quite short without them. They spent the afternoon lowering the hatch covers on to the hatches, and securing them. Then there was the final clean up around the decks, washing down after sweeping up the grain spillage. A large truck loaded with stores arrived, and they unloaded it and carried the boxes and bags on to the ship. There were dry goods of all descriptions and it took them two hours to get it all on board. Doc had the task of stowing it all away in the stores so that he could get at it easily, and a continuous stream of men carried boxes and bags and placed them where Doc wanted them. The ship was to sail the following morning at 2 a.m, so a sign was placed on the gangway reminding the crew to be back aboard by one o'clock. After dinner, and once his chores had been done, Ricky ironed his clothes and got showered and changed. He was a completely different young man to the one who had joined the ship in Barry. He had filled out, was bronzed, and even without his new heels, he'd got taller. Doc warned him to be sure to get back to the ship by one a.m. as if he was late, the Captain would stop him a day's pay. While Ricky was out on deck, waiting for the car to pick him up the Mate came along. 'Don't forget, young Ricky.' he said, 'Leave expires at one o'clock.' 'Yes, Sir.' he answered, 'Doc has already told me not to be late.' The car arrived and Ricky ran down the gangway and climbed in. The three lads were in party mood and they sang songs as Chuck drove them through the streets of Port Arthur. Chuck grinned at the two American lads. 'Got to make one stop on the way.' Al and Slim gave loud whoops of joy. 'What's happening ?' Ricky asked him. 'Got to see this guy I know.' He drove out into the suburbs, the three hosts laughing and joking all the way. He pulled up at a detached house in a wide avenue. The houses all looked the same to Ricky, set back from the road by a large lawn, with a driveway up one side. Chuck got out, walked up the driveway and went around the back of the house. He came back out to the front of the house and beckoned them to come. Ricky was about to get out of the car when Al told him to stay put, and slid into the driving seat. He backed the car up the drive until it was level with the back of the house. 'Now we get out and load up.' he said. Chuck and another man were carrying crates of beer out of the house and piling them on the path. Al opened the huge boot of the car and they started loading the crates into it. There were fifteen crates of two dozen bottles and they fitted in the boot with room to spare. Chuck paid the man and they climbed in the car and drove off, whooping out of the windows, making a terrific din! Chuck's house was a ten minute drive away and they shouted and sang the whole time. The house was pretty much the same as the one they'd just left, only Chuck's drive was longer, and they had a two car garage. He drove up to the garage and opened the door into the house. Slim had the boot open, and they transferred the beer to Chuck's kitchen. The house was huge, compared with the houses that Ricky knew. There was a large lounge, a dining room, study, a kitchen with fitted units, four bedrooms, and two bathrooms, both with fitted showers. It was a palace! They busied themselves getting the crates opened and the beer set out. Chuck opened the fridge and got the sandwiches that they'd made, and the piles of sausages and beefburgers for the barbecue. The barbecue was outside on the patio and Al lit it up in readiness. They opened some beer and had a bottle each. It was different beer to the type that Ricky had drunk at home, being a lot lighter in colour and a lot gassier. Chuck put the record player on and the sounds of pop music filled the house. Slim beckoned to Ricky. 'Lets go help these people park their cars, or they'll just leave them anywhere. If they do, we'll have the cops around here and that's the last thing we want.' He pointed at the cars which were arriving in convoy, each with six or eight young people in each. They went out into the roadway and started directing the cars up the driveway. When the driveway was full, people parked on the front lawn until that was full as well. Dozens of teenagers flocked into the house, overspilling onto the patio at the rear. They brought records, more beer, and food with them, laughing and shouting to each other. The beer was flowing and some started dancing, while others sat on the furniture and stairs talking. Ricky watched as Slim took charge of the cooking at the barbecue, and soon the air was filled with the delicious smell of sausages and onions being cooked. Al introduced him to lots of people and they were surprised to learn that he was from England. He started off trying to explain that South Wales was not England, but soon gave up and accepted that the Americans were a bit confused about the different countries which made up the U.K. 'Come and meet these girls I know.' Al tugged at Ricky's sleeve. 'Girls' he began. 'This is Ricky. He's from England.' Ricky started to deny it but stopped. What was the use? 'This is Cindy, Tess and Babs,' Al continued. 'England?' Tess said with a little squeal of excitement. 'Have you met the King and Queen?' 'Er, not really, but our school took us to London for a trip and we saw Buckingham Palace and the Tower of London.' 'How wonderful.' Tess had a dreamy look on her face. 'I'd love to see all those handsome Guards marching in their gorgeous uniforms.' 'We saw them changing the Guard at Buckingham Palace,' Ricky added. 'It was a marvellous sight.' 'Do they still lock people up in the Tower?' Babs asked. 'No, not any more. It's like a museum now. They keep all the Crown Jewels there. Fabulous Crowns with millions of diamonds, golden orbs, pearls, swords of state, everything. Really marvellous.' 'I'd love to see it,' Tess whispered. Al handed beers to Ricky and the girls. Ricky was grinning all over his face. He was the centre of attention and he loved it. The girls were hanging on his every word. Slim and Chuck came across to them. 'Come on girls,' Slim said. 'Dance time.' And he led Babs off while Chuck slid an arm around Cindy and whispered in her ear. They started doing a slow creeping dance. 'You dance, Rick?' Tess asked. Ricky gaped at her. She was actually asking him to dance. 'Er,er' he stammered. He'd never been asked to dance before. At the Church socials at home, the girls all sat around the walls until a boy asked them to dance. Tess laughed. 'Come on, I'll show you how.' She took him around the waist and he hurriedly put his beer down before taking her hand and putting an arm around her. Tess had blonde, shoulder length hair and the bluest of blue eyes that he'd ever seen. She told him that her family had come to the states from Sweden many years before, and though she considered herself American, her Grandmother kept insisting she was Swedish. They danced a slow number, and though Ricky wasn't a very good dancer, she took control and showed him how the Americans danced. There was very little to it apart from holding each other tight and shuffling around from foot to foot. She smelled wonderful and it wasn't long before Ricky managed to kiss her full on the lips. Tess was a bit startled at first but when he did it again, she kissed him back. Al came across with some more beer when they finally let each other go, and they sat down on the stairs. Couples were hugging and kissing everywhere. On the furniture, lying on the floor, and while they were dancing. Chuck put some very fast music on and couples were starting to jitterbug and jive around. Tess got Ricky up to dance and showed him the moves. She moved like a gymnast and Ricky watched her, trying his best to get the hang of it, as she gyrated, twisting and turning, short skirt flying up, exposing her legs. She was beautiful and Ricky was madly in love! After a couple more beers and two more dances, Ricky's head was spinning like a top, and he made his way to the bathroom, holding on to the bannisters and walls. He threw up in the toilet, and cleaned the mess up before anyone noticed it. Taking a wet flannel, he bathed his face and neck and went back downstairs. Tess looked at him with concern written across her face. 'Are you alright, Rick ?' she asked. 'Yes, I'm O.K, thanks.' Slim brought some more beer over. 'This is what you need, Rick, baby. Drink it down, you'll feel better.' He lifted the bottle and drank it down in one go. After guzzling the beer, he felt dizzy again. He could see Tess and Slim in duplicate. Shaking his head, he staggered to the bathroom with his hand over his mouth. He seemed to lose track of where he was and what he was doing after throwing up again! The rest of the evening he remembered later as snatches of noisy dancing, loud music, and more beer followed by periods of loss of memory. He didn't remember passing out on the floor behind the settee in the living room, and the others were so busy with the good time they were having, they forgot about him completely. The clock moved around from midnight to one o'clock and the party raged on! Two o'clock came and went and Ricky was oblivious, slumbering gently, the air vibrating with an occasional soft snore!

The abdication of King Edward 8th.

http://scarytaff.hubpages.com/hub/King-Edward-8th

Innocent on the run. Part 21.

The American boys insisted on taking Ricky back to the ship in Chuck's car, as they were going home anyway, and they got their own shoes back from the cloakroom and walked outside. Chuck's car was across the street, and they waited for the illuminated sign that said 'Walk,' before crossing. 'If you cross before the sign comes on, you can get fined on the spot by that cop on the corner,' Al told Ricky. 'It's called jay walking.' Chuck's car was a huge sedan which could comfortably hold six or seven people, and they lounged in the huge seats while Chuck drove them slowly along the streets, with the windows open, whistling and catcalling to the girls they passed. They tried to persuade some girls that they knew, who were stood at the traffic lights waiting to cross, to get in the car and go for a ride, but they were told to get lost! They drove on, whooping and singing along to the radio. At the Llanerin, Slim said, 'I sure would like to see over your ship, Rick. Is that possible?' 'The Mate is on deck,' Ricky replied. 'I'll go and ask him.' He was back at the car in a couple of minutes. 'The Mate said you're welcome to look her over.' They trooped aboard and shook hands with the Mate. Ricky took them into the accommodation. Doc and Charlie were in the messroom and they were introduced and chatted to the Americans for a while. Ricky showed them around the accommodation and Bridge, but asked Charlie to show them the engine room, which he did with pleasure. They came back into the messroom after their visit to the bowels of the ship, as Doc called it. 'Wow, it's noisy down there,' Slim said waggling a finger in his ear. 'Only the generators running at the moment,' Charlie told him. 'You should hear it when the main engine is running.' 'Awesome !' Chuck replied. ' Thanks for the tour,' Al said. 'Guess we'd better be leaving, now.' 'Sure do thank you.' Slim offered his hand to Charlie and Doc. 'Hope to see you again before you leave Port Arthur.' 'We're sailing early Sunday morning.' Doc said. 'So if you want to have a typical English lunch, come down to the ship around midday on Saturday.' 'Gee, that would be great.' Slim answered. 'I guess we could. We all have our lunch break at twelve. Thanks a lot, Doc.' 'Don't thank him until you've tried his cooking.' Charlie told them, and they all laughed as Doc swiped him with the teatowel. They left the ship laughing and promising to return for the promised meal. Ricky turned in, as it was past midnight and he would be up again at six thirty. He was enjoying his time in Port Arthur, and he wondered what Russia would be like in contrast. He fell asleep wondering if the Russian kids had cars! Doc got him up again in the morning, and he started work as soon as he'd drunk the tea that Doc had made for him. Doc whispered, 'watch Nigel when he comes in. He's in for a surprise!' 'What kind of surprise?' Doc just laughed! Nigel came in to the galley later and said, 'Good Morning.' Ricky answered him, but Doc just grunted. 'What's wrong with him today.' Nigel asked, nodding towards Doc. Ricky shrugged his shoulders! ‘He's very moody, you know,' Nigel complained. 'Sometimes he's like a bear with a sore head! I think it's his age. They get funny when they get to his age!' If Doc heard, he didn't acknowledge it. He had his back to Nigel and was reaching in the drawer for something. Nigel got on with loading his dumb waiter up and when he had finished, turned to Doc again. 'Well, goodbye, misery.' Doc spun around with his arms reaching out as if to grab Nigel! He had a horrific werewolf mask on, and he came forward snarling and slobbering, arms hooking the air in front of him! Nigel looked at him in horror, before screaming and running out of the galley. Doc fell about laughing! He ripped his mask off and the tears were rolling down his face! 'Did you see his face.' he roared. 'He was petrified.' Ricky had been scared too, as he'd never seen one of the realistic looking masks before, but he joined in the laughter, relieved that the scare was over. 'I knew it would get him going,' Doc sniggered. 'As soon as I saw it in the shop last night, I thought, That's It! That's for Nigel. It's a shame really.' he chortled, 'I shouldn't take the mick out of the gullible little twit, but he falls for it every time!' Ricky hauled the dumb waiter up the shaft as Nigel had left in such a panic, he'd forgotten to do it. Doc carried on cooking the breakfast, laughing to himself and occasionally giving a growl or a snarl! After breakfast, Ricky helped the deck crew clearing up the spilled grain. The holds were getting really full now, and Dave estimated that they would be full by midnight on Saturday. Ricky told him about the party at Chuck's, and Dave said that he should be able to go as he wasn't duty that night. 'Did you get your cowboy boots?' Dave asked. 'No, I'm short of a few dollars.' he answered. 'Go and ask the old man for a sub, then. He'll give you one. You've been working overtime so you're entitled to the money.' 'Will he give it to me do you think?' 'Of course, it's your money!' Ricky went up to the Captain's cabin and knocked on the door. The Captain's voice called 'Come in.' 'It's me Sir, 'Ricky said nervously, as he went into the Captain's office which was situated off his dayroom. 'I wondered if you could give me a sub, Sir.' The cabin was beautifully furnished with two leather arm chairs and a settee, on a dark blue carpet. There was a round table in the centre of the room with papers scattered on the top and a mahogany desk and bookcase along one wall. The lower half of the walls were clad in red mahogany, and there were pictures of the other ships that the Captain had been in command of, on the walls. The Captain was sitting at his office desk. 'Want to go ashore on the razzle, do you.' he said sternly. 'No, Sir, I want to get a pair of boots before we leave.' 'I see, and how much are they?' 'Eight dollars, Sir, but I've got five left, so I need three.' The Captain took out his list of advances to the crew, and wrote Ricky's name down with five dollars alongside it. 'Sign here.' he said. Ricky signed his name and the Captain counted out five dollars. 'Thanks, Captain.' he said, and turned to go. 'The Bosun tells me you're coming along quite well, Ricky. Keep it up, we'll make a sailor of you yet.' 'Yes, Sir. I will. Thank you.' And he went back to the deck. At lunch time he asked Doc if he could go up the store to get his boots, but Doc told him that the best thing to do was wait for his American friends tomorrow, and they would probably run him up in their car, as it would take too long to walk both ways today. That made sense, so he went about his work quite happily, and finished the afternoon shift, before getting on with the dinner preparations. At six o'clock he was back out on deck for the evening watch, clearing up spilled grain, and watching the cargo steadily filling up in the holds. At midnight he was relieved by Fred and he went in to the mess room for a cup of tea and a sandwich. The mess room was empty tonight, so after his snack he went down below and showered before turning in. Copyright Deric Barry 2005.