Who's Mine

'All ships. All ships. The following is a navigational warning
issued by Thames Coastguard at twelve hundred hours on Monday the
fourteenth of June. A two hundred pound contact mine has been spotted
drifting about ten miles west of the Sunk Lightbuoy.'

Rudi, sitting in the radio room with his feet up on the desk, sucked
the last life out of his cigarette, leaned his chair precariously far
back, only the pull of his heels keeping him off the floor, and shouted
through the open door to the bridge. 'Thames say it is west of the
sunk.'

'Well Thames are wrong.' Shouted the captain. 'It is somewhere
here.'

Rudi remained, just balanced, just able to see the bridge through the
door. 'Andrew.' He called. 'Are you in there?'

There was no answer, Rudi stretched his neck to see further round the
corner. 'Andrew.'

'Yes Rudi, what is it?'

'Get me an orangeade would you.'

'Fuck you.'

'Then watch the radio while I get one.'

Rudi reached his arm down to the floor to keep the chair from
falling.

'Andrew.'

'Okay.'

Rudi pushed the chair forwards but not far enough, and balanced for a
moment on two chair legs, windmilling his arms frantically, before
crashing down on to all four legs. He stood up and raised his elbows to
the air-conditioning so as to ventilate his armpits and waited till
Andrew walked in the room.

'It is not here.' Said Rudi. 'It is near the Sunk.'

Andrew shrugged and said 'don't take too long.'

In the mess Thomas leaned against a mop in a bucket and watched Rudi
buy two orangeades from the machine. 'Have they found it yet.' He
said.

'It is not here.' Said Rudi. 'It is near the Sunk.'

'The sunk what?'

'The Sunk lightbuoy.'

'Oh.'

'Not the sunk lightbuuy, the lightbuoy called the Sunk.'

'Oh.'

'That marks the Sunk sands.'

'Ah.'

'Never mind.'

Rudi drained half his orangeade in one go and burped loudly. He rubbed
the can against his forehead, cooling it.

'Who's mine is it?' Asked Thomas.

'What?'

'Is it one of ours?'

Rudi pondered the question for a moment and said. 'How the hell should
I know?'

Thomas shrugged.

'Will there be ice cream tonight?'

Thomas said 'Maybe, it is hot' and wiped his brow with his sleeve as if
to make the point.

Rudi nodded, and left. On the way back he stepped outside onto the
deck. The smooth greasy sea slopped lazily against the ship and calling
gulls argued with each other across the empty sky. Rudi stood looking
out at the distant shoreline, squinting against the bright light, and
finished his drink, then he crushed the can in his hand and threw it
over the side.

Back in the radio room he gave the other can to Andrew.

'I told you to be quick.' Said Andrew.

'Who's mine is it?' Said Rudi. 'Is it one of ours.'

Andrew opened his can. 'Who knows.'

'It is not here. It is near the Sunk.'

'It may not be here anymore, but it is not near the sunk.'

'Why not?'

'Because it was here yesterday.'

'It could have moved.' Said Rudi, sitting down and swinging his feet
back on the table.

'Across the shipping lane? It would have been set off.'

'Unless it is a dud.'

'Then it is a British mine and heading home. German mines are not
duds.'

'And if it is a German mine.'

'It will head north to Germany, and if it heads south it is a French
mine and it will find a nudist beach in Brittany where it can drink
wine and watch the girls.'

'And if it remains here'

'Then it must be a Dutch mine.'

'Or perhaps a Belgian mine.'

'If it was a Belgian mine it would have sunk.'

Both men laughed. 'Then it is a British mine,' said Rudi, 'because it
is heading to London.'

'Impossible.' It was the Captain leaning on the doorway. 'It was here
yesterday and it will be here again today, it is a matter of
tides.'

Rudi dropped his legs from the table and his chair fell forwards with a
clatter. Andrew stood up almost to attention but not.

'Captain.' Said Rudi. 'If it is a British mine why do we have to find
it, why cannot the British deal with their own mines?'

'Because if it is a British mine it will be a dud and not need dealing
with, but if it is a German mine it will still work perfectly.'

Andrew offered the captain the last of his orangeade and the captain
took it gratefully, finishing it in one go. 'Men should be outside on a
day like this.' He said. 'Not cooped up behind neon lights and air
conditioning like battery hens.'

'It is too hot outside.' Said Rudi.

'Nonsense.'

Andrew said. 'Do you want to contact Thames Coastguard and tell them
the mine is not where they say it is?'

'No.' Said the captain. 'Perhaps this way a Dutch trawler will find it
for us tonight.'

Rudi laughed. 'It would be a strange fish to catch. A quiet slow fish
with a tangy flavour.'

'Better hope it goes off.' Said Andrew. 'If it does not they will just
throw it back. We would be lucky if they even report it. When fishermen
find a body they throw it back and do not report it.'

'That is because they have to discard their whole catch it they report
a body, if they find a mine they will report it and want
salvage.'

'What is salvage on a mine?' Asked Rudi.

'A British mine or a German mine?'

'A British mine will make a fine feature for your garden, let you
children use it as a climbing frame.'

Rudi laughed.

'Come on Andrew.' Said the captain. 'We have work to do.' Andrew and
the captain walked back to the bridge.

'There is ice-cream tonight.' Rudi shouted after them.

'What flavour.' Shouted back the captain.