Boatman's dream 20

We rounded the corner of the track and saw cars parked on the beach all around the clubhouse.

“Blimey. It’s like an AGM.  Bigger.”

“How’s he done that so quickly?” Merlin wondered aloud.

Eight of us walked up from the wharf.  I’d done some ringing around the boatmen.

“I reckon we’ll get about twenty-five up from our side.”  I said, trying to raise spirits.

“Plus us?” Dennis asked.

“Yes.  Plus us.  Plus the fishermen.”

Most of Arthur’s new clothes had been soaked during the fire.  He was wearing a strange assemblage of jeans, leather jerkin and a heavy cape clasped by a brooch at his shoulder.

A group of boatmen were waiting for us at the steps to the door.

“Evening Merlin, Eddie.  Evening gents.”

We returned the greeting.

Merlin paused at the first step and gave a firm nod. 

“Best go in and see what he wants.”

The clubhouse was filled with excited voices.  Bellingham-Smythe was in a corner speaking to the editor of the Herald.  The room was set up for a speech, with a single table and chair at the front.  All seats were taken and people were standing at the rear and along the sides.  The bar hadn’t been opened.

The Herald photographer was taking shots of the room and fussing around Bellingham-Smythe.  He caught sight of Merlin pushing through the crowd.

Merlin walked straight to the table.  Bellingham-Smythe broke-off his conversation with the editor.

“Merlin!  One moment!  I’ve called this meeting and I’m taking the Chair, if you please.”

Merlin pulled a document from his pocket.  It was the club’s Articles of Association – the constitution.  He addressed the room.

“James, before this meeting commences, I’d like to establish its status for the record.”

He flourished the Articles.

“I won’t speak through the Chair because this gathering is not constituted as a formal meeting of the Boating Club.”

He read out the relevant clauses of the constitution and folded the document back into his pocket.

“Therefore, no decisions or votes will be binding.”

The room had become silent.

Bellingham-Smythe stepped up and faced Merlin, who was a good head taller.

“You have a superb command of protocol, Merlin, but that’s not what people have come to hear.”

There was scattered applause.

The photographer, who’d been busy capturing the confrontation, suddenly noticed Arthur standing between Eddie and me.  The beard and ensemble gave him a kind of New Age Hipster look.  Arthur seemed unaware of the photographer as came in ever closer.

Bellingham-Smythe spoke again.

“Ok folks.  Let’s make a start.  First of all, thanks, everyone, for coming.  Regardless of the formal status of this meeting – I’ll defer to Merlin on that – you’ve come here for a reason.”

He paused to take in the faces.

“Early this morning, there was a serious fire on the wharf – a fire that came very close to causing loss of property or even life.  It’s fortunate that we’ve had a period of wet weather.  Had it happened in July or August, it might have been a different story.  We were lucky this time.”

Someone shouted “It was lucky the wind was blowing the flames towards the Pill.  It could have been much worse.”

Someone else shouted “Hear! Hear!” 

There was a murmur of general agreement.

Bellingham-Smythe continued.  “Looking around, I see we have boat-owners, villagers and townspeople, together with colleagues from the town and county councils.  A good representation.  It shows the strength of feeling, and concern over what is an out of control – feral – situation.”

He paused for applause, and was rewarded.

From beside me, Eddie shouted “This feels like a hatchet-job already.”  There were murmurs of agreement.

Someone in the middle of the room asked “Do we know the cause of the fire yet?”

Someone else shouted “No.”

Bellingham-Smythe stepped in “If you’ll forgive me, the exact cause of the fire is academic.  What’s important is that it was able to happen.”

Rhys called out “How long have you been living here, James?”

“I’m sorry, Rhys, I don’t see the relevance.”

“I’ll tell you.  We had another big fire down here, around ten years ago.”

“Eleven!” somebody shouted.

“Thank you.  Eleven years ago.  It was in your yard.  The one you own and operate now.  It was just bad luck, James.  It could happen in there again.”

Voices were raised as people began to argue.

Merlin stepped forward.

“What have you brought us all down here for James?  What’s your proposal?  I know you’ve got one, or we wouldn’t be here.”

The room waited in silence for Bellingham-Smythe’s response.