Three Ways to Capsize a Boat - Chris Stewart [27]
How could I possibly resist such a tempting prospect? Perhaps I ought to mention it to Ana, but there was plenty of time for that. I listened on. The rest of the crew had already been chosen: Ros would be going, of course, which meant they’d be bringing along Hannah, their four-year-old daughter, who had effortlessly won my heart when I’d first met her. Then there was John, a merchant-seaman shipmate of Tom’s, to whom, he assured me, he’d happily trust his boat and his life; Patrick, an ex-army man who knew about sailing in the Arctic; and Mike, a teenager who had done exceptionally well on Tom’s skipper course and was taking a gap year before starting an engineering degree.
I wondered what quality it was that had landed me a place among such a seasoned crew. “Oh,” said Tom, before hanging up, “bring your guitar. Hannah likes your songs,” and then he added, as if in answer to my question, “she thinks you’re funny.”
WHEN I BROKE THE NEWS of my voyage, Ana turned out to be a little less sanguine than I had expected. She had always accommodated my wanderlust, placing a high value on her own independence as much as mine, but was I really sure about the safety of it all? Tom had, after all, talked about storms at sea and this played on her mind. It reassured her to some extent that Ros and Hannah were going along; nothing awful would be allowed to happen to the boat while they were onboard. But what if I fell off it? What if far from land we hit the sort of freak weather that was beyond even the skill of the legendary Tom Cunliffe?
I worked on through that winter with the sheep, and by the end of March, and lambing, I had enough money saved to defray my share of the costs of the voyage. I put the wheels in motion to see that the flock was well cared for while I was away and, in order to present my case to Ana in a better light, set to work with more enthusiasm than skill on some long-promised home improvements. All this had the effect of keeping me well occupied, and distracting me from my seething excitement about the journey. At long last April came, and with it the eagerly awaited call from Tom to say that everything was ready for our departure.
On a grim sort of a day with a lowering gray sky and squalls of rain scudding across the Downs, Ana drove me down to Brighton Marina, where Hirta now lay. The weather itself seemed full of menace and foreboding, and, as we drove, it got worse and worse. We didn’t say much and, at the marina, as we walked arm in arm up the quay, Ana leaned into me as much for warmth and a windbreak as for affection.
Hirta was moored at the end of the quay. I felt a frisson of pride as I saw her; her hull was deep black now with new paint, the spars—mast, bowsprit, and boom—glistened with coat upon coat of oil. The brasswork gleamed, the deck was scrubbed, and everywhere were well-coiled ropes, hanging from the pinrails or neatly flaked down on the deck. The sails were shackled or tied into place and ready to be raised; all in all she looked a most businesslike boat, and reassuringly well prepared for sea.
“Now, there,” I said to Ana, “is a well-found ship.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she answered, just a little absently.
Hannah waved at us. She had posted herself as lookout, her little red Wellingtons and plastic mackintosh setting off her pale blond hair. As we climbed aboard, she ran giggling in a fit of shyness to hide behind her father’s legs. Ros, who had been making tea in the galley, poked her head out at the top of the companionway steps to greet us. It struck me anew what a contrast they made: Ros, slender, quiet, and assured; Tom, towering above her, and with the presence of a bear in a barroom.
“Welcome aboard,” he boomed. “Get your kit stowed. I see you’ve brought the guitar. Wonderful. We’re having a quick cup of tea and some sticky buns to fortify us and then we’ll slip the lines and get under way. The weather’s not what it might be, but then it never is, is it?”
A handsome man of about thirty-five, and a gangly, mop-haired youngster with round spectacles were busy