Boatman's dream 31

The outer door of The Ship was wedged open.  Ben and I walked into the lounge.

The morning newspaper lay on the bar beside an empty coffee mug.

“Not a sound, save the creaking of the rigging.”  Ben muttered.

“And the flushing of the upstairs toilet.”  I quipped back.

We each grabbed a stool.

Taff came down, speaking on his phone.  He flashed a greeting and sat at the bar.

We waited.

“Sorry gents.  Brewery.  There’s been an accident with the dray on the slip-road.”

He laid the phone on the bar.

“Early doors, boys.   Up for a session?  Or is it a late breakfast?”

I introduced Ben.

“He works for The Herald.  He’s after a story on Arthur.”

Taff nodded.

“Rhys told me about the man overboard.  Any news?”

I shook my head.

“You were off Lavernock, weren’t you?.”

“Yeah.  Merlin dropped anchor because of the fog.”

“He did the right thing.  You can’t cut across shipping in that.”

The chillers hummed beneath the bar.

“So what happened?”

“Arthur was up on the bow.  Then he wasn’t.  He just vanished.”

“Anyone else on deck?”

“Just me.”

“Did you hear him go in?  There’d have been a splash.”

“It wasn’t as quiet as you’d think.”

“The tide?”

“Yeah.”

Ben’s voice cut in.  “What about the oars you heard?”

Taff stared at me.

“Oars?”

My head began to spin.  I let-go a shuddering sigh as the confusion and tiredness hit.

Taff got up and steadied me.  I gripped the bar rail.

Moments later a tumbler of dark rum was in front of me.

Taff filled another for Ben, then one for himself.

Ben set his phone on the bar.  It was recording.

We stared at it stupidly.

“Can’t you just take notes?”

He slipped the phone back into his pocket.

I picked the glass up and swirled the rum around, watching it cling.

“Where do you want me to start, Ben?”

“Wherever you like.”

“Bear in mind this story’s already earned me a caution for wasting police time.”

 “Really?”

Taff shuffled back onto his stool. 

“You haven’t heard it yet.”

I retold to Ben everything I’d said to the police about seeing the warship anchored behind Brean Down.  Almost two months had passed.  I told him about the Naval officer and two ratings coming alongside me in a cutter, and how they’d transferred Arthur to my boat and asked me to bring him ashore. 

Ben sat wide-eyed.  He hadn’t written any of it down.

Taff confirmed everything I’d said on the day, sitting right there.

“Have you met Arthur, Taff?”

“Yes, a few times.  You were at the Club meeting when he spoke, weren’t you?”

“Only to get some photos.  We’d been tipped off that it might get lively.  I’ve never met him properly.”

Ben’s eyes were drilling into me hungrily.

“So, this ship.  How big was it?  What sort of ship?”

“There are a few ex-Navy types in here.”  Taff answered.   “When Kev described what he’d seen, one of them reckoned it was a Destroyer.  Second World War.”

Ben leaned back on his stool.  A smile appeared, briefly, then evaporated. 

“Hold on.  Let me get this down.”  He pressed the button on his pen.