K - This Beautiful Ship

Did I ever tell you about a time, a long while ago, when I was
feeling low? I was a lot younger then. It was early March, and blowing
a gale. I watched from my bedroom window. The trees were scattering
pink and white blossom across the pavement. A page from a newspaper
flapped through the air and got stuck on the television aerial of the
house across the road. Windy days always make me feel low. I don't know
why. I went downstairs, hanging my head. My grandpa was sitting in his
big maroon armchair, picking at a place where the stitching had come
loose. He had a copy of the television guide folded in his lap.

"Hey Grandpa," I said, collapsing onto the sofa opposite and clasping a
cushion to my chest. I sighed, hoping he would hear. He lit his pipe
and made a sniffing noise from beneath his bristly grey moustache.
"When you're feeling, you know, down&;#8230; how do you get through
it?"

"Do I tell you story of the greatest ship in the world?" he said,
gazing through half-closed eyes at the porcelain urn that rested on the
mantelpiece. Grandpa claimed to be 'from a little here, from a little
there', but he was brought up in northern Greece. His accent was
difficult to place. He spoke softly, in his own special version of
English.

"There is once, the greatest ship in the world." He traced an outline
with his gnarled hands. The tips of his fingernails were black. "It is
biggest ship, fastest ship, best ship in world. Everybody know this
ship. It is beautiful, it sails all around the world, across all the
seas." I began nestling into the contours of the sofa. When I inhaled,
my nostrils filled with the scent of smoke wafting from his pipe. It
reminded me of pine and sandalwood, and the smell of the beach mats we
used to have when I was little.

"This ship is beautiful. Then, one day, it works no more. The
engine&;#8230;" Grandpa drew a finger across his throat and made a
curt rasping noise from the corner of his mouth. "It does not sail, it
does not go. Everybody does not know why. Everybody make question. 'Why
does not this ship go?' everybody say, 'Why does not this beautiful
ship sail?' Many men come to look at this ship, work very hard for many
days, but still it does not go. It is finished."

"So," he lifted his index finger for emphasis, "then there is one man.
This man is very old. He work on ship all his life. He know all ships,
all different type of ship, big ship, little ship, all ships. This man
come to look at this beautiful ship. He has big bag of tools. This man,
he come and he look all over this beautiful ship - up, down, in, out,
all over. He stand by the engine. He take from his bag one small
hammer." Grandpa removed his pipe from his mouth and gripped it as if
it were a mallet. "This man takes hammer and tap!" Grandpa tapped the
edge of his armchair with his pipe, spilling little dark flakes of
tobacco across the fabric. "He somewhere gently hits the engine, and
one noise, and suddenly engine is working."

"Now the owners of this beautiful ship are very happy. Now the ship can
sail all around the world. One week later, they get bill for the work.
It is wanting ten thousand pounds. Everyone is&;#8230; amazed. This
man did nothing, he only make tap with little hammer and now he is
wanting so much money. These owners, they do not want to pay so much
money, so they send this man one note. It says: 'Thank you for helping
our ship. Why you want so much money for such small work? We need you
send, err&;#8230;" Grandpa hesitated, circling his hand.
"&;#8230; we need you send real bill, special bill, more
detail.'"

"So, this man, he send them special bill. It says&;#8230;" He held
an imaginary itemised bill out in front of him, and pretended to read
from it. "'Cost for making tap with hammer - two pounds. Cost for the
know where to make tapping - nine-thousand, nine-hundred, ninety-eight
pounds.'" Grandpa sunk back into his chair, and breathed out a cloud of
chalky pipe smoke. Behind my head, the window pane rattled. Suddenly, I
realised he had finished. I nodded and tried to look serious, lifting
my hand to disguise a growing smile.

"So&;#8230;" I began, and paused. I was unsure what the moral had
been. "Yeah&;#8230; I, uhh&;#8230; is that supposed to be like, a
kind of answer to my question?"

"Question?" said Grandpa, looking confused. "You make question?"