Boatman's dream 9

Meetings of the river Moorings Committee are held on the first Monday of every month (tides permitting, as the clubhouse is only accessible from the beach).  Merlin is Committee Chair.  I was elected six months ago as Moorings Secretary. 

The Moorings Committee is the modern remnant of an ancient agreement with The Crown to grant local boatmen moorings on the tidal strand of the river.  In this way, the men of the village gain access to the sea to fish or simply exercise their birthright. 

At the Annual General Meeting, moorings license-holders voted in favour of the local Boat Club absorbing the Committee.  As a result, it now operates as a sub-committee of the Club, whose Chair and would-be owner is retired City stockbroker James Bellingham-Smythe, known locally as BS.

BS has appointed his son-in-law, Tim, to attend the Moorings meetings as an observer.  Tim believes this to be a supervisory role, leading to frequent clashes with Merlin.  For this reason, Merlin always opens up an hour prior to the start of business.

I walked up the steps from the beach into the clubhouse.  Merlin was standing behind the bar. Arthur stood watching the door, dressed in jeans, open necked shirt and denim jacket.  He blended in more, but there was still a presence about him.  Charisma.  

“Pint, Kev?”

“Yes please, Merlin.”  “Evening all.”

Rhys, Ronnie, Taff and Dennis chorused “Evening!”

“Anyone else coming?”

“Just Eddie.  He’s driving up from Bridgwater.”

“And Tim.” 

I handed Merlin the money for the drink, but he shook his head.  “It’s on me.”

He cleared his throat.  “Right.  Before Tiny Tim gets here.”

We huddled in front of the bar.  Arthur stood to one side, watching.

“Well, I’ve had an interesting day.  I don’t know where to start, if I’m honest.” 

“At the beginning!” Ronnie suggested.

“It’s as good a place as any.” conceded Merlin.  “I’ve had to draw on my knowledge, a bit, of Celtic and Gaelic languages…  lost dialects, all that.  Arthur…”  He turned to address Arthur.  “speaks something close to some of those.  With a bit of jiggery-pokery, we can just about understand each other.”

Heads nodded around the group.

“And he speaks a bit of English.  Saxon language, he says.  That right, Arthur?”

Arthur acknowledged with a slight bow.

“He’s picked it up somewhere, but doesn’t like using it.”  Merlin looked at us all.  “But we can fix that, eh?”

Merlin paused for a moment.

“As for where he’s from….  Between you, me and the garden fence, I heard about the story Kev gave at the local nick.  There’s more to that version than the one he told me this morning.”  He gave me a stare.

The door opened and Eddie came in.  “Sorry fellahs.  Accident on the M5.”

“Evening, Eddie.  Sit down a minute. I’ll get you a drink.” 

Merlin continued.  “You’re going to have to take a little leap of faith here.”

“Ha!” Ronnie scoffed.  “That’s cute.  A bloody druid telling us to take a leap of faith.”

“Quiet, Ronnie!”  came from somewhere.  “Let him speak.”

“It takes a bit of believing, but, taken with Kev’s story…  I’ll give it to you.  Make up your own minds.”

Eddie pulled a stool up.

“Drink, Ed?”

“Just water, thanks, Merlin.”

Merlin fixed his eyes on me.  “Kev, where did you pick Arthur up?”

“In the Channel.”

“Come on!”

“Just west of Steep Holm.”

“Do I have to waterboard you?”  He pointed the soft-drink dispenser.

The others laughed.

“Off another boat.”

“What kind of boat?”

“A cutter.  A Navy one.”

I felt the others lean in.

“What was a Navy cutter doing around here?” asked Taff.  “What was it travelling with?  They’re normally tenders.”

“Tell ‘em, Kev.  Tell ‘em what you told the police.”

“And got a fucking caution for my trouble.”

“We’re waiting, Kev.” Ronnie’s voice was suddenly serious.

“I took him off a Navy ship.”

Ronnie nodded slowly and turned to the others.  “That’s what he said to me yesterday morning.  I thought it were a bit odd, but I didn’t think no more of it to be honest.”

“What kind of ship?” asked Eddie.

“He described a World War 2 battlecruiser to the local plod.  That right, Kev?”

Taff spat his beer. 

“You’re fucking having us on.”

Dennis was quiet throughout.

Merlin nodded in Arthur’s direction.  “Well, if he’s having us on, so’s our friend Arthur, over there.  Because he’s told me exactly the same story today in a language Kev doesn’t understand.  And Arthur’s English ain’t up to telling that story, believe me.”

“Another pint, Merlin.” called Taff.  “We’d better get a move on with this before Tim gets here.”

The others crowded in for drinks.  Eddie sat quietly shaking his head.