“They’re in big trouble,” he said, taking a mouthful of fish stew. Thomas continued, but all Ben could hear was an extraordinary spludging, swilling, chomping sound.
“I beg your pardon?” said Ben.
“Sorry,” said Thomas, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “It’s difficult to speak when your mouth’s full of fish stew. What I was trying to say was that Hardtack and Co. are in serious trouble.”
Badger joined in. “Over what happened to Ben?” he asked.
Thomas nodded. “The Captain was furious. I heard him shouting at them. He told them that it had been a dangerous situation and that the last thing you should do in those circumstances is to laugh. He said that in the old days in the navy they would have been whipped with the cat o’nine tails for that sort of thing.”
Ben shivered. He had read about the cat o’nine tails, a savage sort of whip, and he did not like the thought of it. Fortunately it had long since been taken out of use and that sort of thing no longer went on, but when it had happened it was truly terrible.
Thomas continued. “Then he gave them their punishment. And you know what it was?”
Ben and Badger both waited, Ben with a sinking feeling in his heart. They would blame him for this – he was sure of it.
“They’re on heads-scrubbing duties for a whole week,” said Thomas. “A week! Can you imagine it?” He turned to Ben. “You know what the heads are? The toilets. They have to clean the toilets every morning and every evening for a week.”
“I’m glad it’s not me,” said Badger. “I had to do it once. And that was just for one day. It’s horrible. You end up all stinky.”
Ben said nothing for a while, but then he asked, rather miserably, “Are they here?”
Thomas turned round and scanned the rows of heads at the tables behind them. “It looks like they’re still hard at work,” he said. “They’ll be late for dinner after they’ve washed up and changed their clothes.”
“And that means there’ll be hardly any food for them,” Badger pointed out. “Cook gets mad if you’re late for dinner. He just gives you the scraps. Even Henry gets better food than that.”
It was at that moment that William Edward Hardtack, Geoffrey Shark and Maximilian Flubber came into the mess hall. They looked a bit wet – as if they had taken a shower – and every one of them was scowling. Everybody in the mess hall, it seemed, knew what had happened, and smirked and whispered as the three culprits made their way up to the service hatch. Then there was complete silence as the entire school strained to hear what Cook had to say.
He did not disappoint his audience.
“So,” said Cook. “Who do we have here, I ask meself? If it isn’t William Edward Hardtack and his two faithful side-kicks, Geoffrey Shark, no less, and our charming friend, Maximilian Flubber! Well, well, well! And where have you three young gentlemen been, may I ask?”
Hardtack looked over his shoulder. He did not want to be overheard. “Working, Cook,” he mumbled.
“What was that?” snapped Cook. “Speak up, young man.”
“Working, Cook,” said Hardtack, much louder now.
“Oh?” said Cook. “I thought work stopped at four bells on the first dog watch. Or am I wrong? And what sort of work exactly, my three hearties?”
“Scrubbing the heads,” muttered Geoffrey Shark.
Cook gave a crow of delight. “Now there’s a good occupation for a fine fellow like yourself, Shark! With your fancy hair-style and all! Well, well! And I take it that you’ve washed your hands thoroughly? Good. Because you must have clean hands if you’re to eat in this expensive restaurant. Not, I hasten to add, that there’s much grub left. Sorry about that. Just a few scraps for the three of youse.”
Cook dispensed a small amount of food to each of the boys and then, with a theatrical gesture, snapped shut the serving hatch. Hardtack and his companions shuffled to their table and sat down amongst their fellow Upper Deckers. At that table nobody dared to giggle or even smile at the public humiliation of the three – William Edward Hardtack was, after all, the Prefect of the Upper Deck – but at all the other tables there was hardly a straight face.
“They really deserve this,” said Thomas, gleefully. “I don’t like to see people being punished, but sometimes …”
Badger thought much the same, but Ben stared grimly ahead. He knew that whatever the rights and wrongs of the situation were – and he himself had done nothing on purpose to get those three into trouble – they would blame him for this. If earlier on he had sensed the possibility of making enemies with Hardtack, that possibility was now a certainty.
Badger guessed that this was the way Ben was feeling and tried to reassure him. “Listen, Ben,” he said. “Those guys are all hot air. They talk big but they’re basically nothing to worry about.”
Thomas agreed. “And don’t you worry, Ben,” he said, laying a comforting hand on Ben’s shoulder. “You’ve got friends. You’ve got me and Badger here, and a whole lot of other people who can’t stand that bunch. I’m telling you, man, there’s nothing they can do. Nothing – that’s right, isn’t it, Badge?”
Badger nodded, but Ben, much as he would have liked to believe what his two new friends said, could tell that they were just trying to cheer him up and that Hardtack, Shark and Flubber were far more than just hot air.
At two bells on the first watch, which on dry land would be nine o’clock at night, the lights in all the sleeping cabins had to be turned out. This was a strict rule, and although most people waited until the last second before obeying it, by one minute past nine every light on the three living decks was extinguished. Since the Tobermory was in harbour, none of the students had to be up on deck on watch; that would change once they were at sea, when the night would be divided into three watches that they would take it in turns to stay up for.
“How do you like your hammock?” Badger asked from his side of the cabin. ‘You comfortable enough?”
Ben was unsure what to say. It was a strange feeling, he thought – rather like being wrapped in something and then hung up. It was not an uncomfortable sensation, but at the same time it was not really how he would choose to sleep. What if you wanted to stretch out? What if you turned over and found yourself either wrapped up tighter and tighter or, worse still, if you fell out onto the floor?
He decided to say that he was all right and was sure he would get used to it.
“You will,” said Badger. “After a few nights a bed will feel strange to you and you’ll want to be back in a hammock.”
For a few minutes neither boy said anything. On board a ship there are always all sorts of noises, even at night. There is the creaking of timbers; there is the sound of wind in the rigging; there is the lapping of the waves against the hull. The one thing you never hear on a ship is complete silence.
Then Badger spoke about what had happened on the mast. “Was today the first time you’ve ever been in real danger?” he asked.
Ben thought for a few moments before answering. He thought he probably had been, but now that he tried to remember he could not think of any occasion when his life had actually been threatened. So he said yes. Then he asked, “What about you, Badge?”
“Once,” said Badger. “It was about a year ago, when I was home during the summer. We get a four-week holiday, you see, in the summer, and I went back to New York. My parents have a house near the ocean up in Maine. We’ve got a sailing boat – just a small one. It can take two people, but I use it by myself. My parents don’t like sailing very much.”
“One afternoon I went out in this boat. There wasn’t much wind but a few gusts came up and I managed to get get quite far out. Then the wind died away completely.”
“So you were stuck?” asked Ben.
“Well, I would have been stuck if it hadn’t been for the current. The tide had changed and there was quite a strong current where I was. This was going straight out to sea. It took my boat with it. The shore was getting smaller and smaller and
I realised that I was being carried out into the open ocean. There was nothing I could do about it.”
“Weren’t there any other boats?” asked Ben.
“There were one or two,” replied Badger. “But they were a long way away and they were going in a different direction.”
“Couldn’t you wave?”
“They were too far away to see me,” said Badger.
Ben was silent. Obviously Badger had managed to get out of danger or he would not be able to tell the story now, but it was still a bit frightening.
“Then I remembered something,” said Badger. “I had my cell phone with me and I realised that we were not too far off shore for it to work. So I called my dad’s phone. It was busy. So I tried my mom’s. That was busy too. They were working you see – they do lots of deals from home, even when we’re on holiday up there, and they were talking to people in New York.
“I waited for about ten minutes, and then I tried again. The same thing happened. And ten minutes after that, and another ten minutes after that as well. Then my battery gave out.”
Ben gasped. “You couldn’t call?”
“Not any more,” said Badger.
“You were rescued?”
“Yes,” said Badger. “But not before I saw a shark. It was a big one and I swear it was circling my boat. The shark was way bigger than the boat and could easily have tipped me over if it wanted.”
“A great white?” asked Ben.
“Probably,” said Badger. ‘They travel a lot and sometimes they get up there.”
Ben hardly dared ask what happened next.
“I saw a boat,” said Badger. “I was able to take off my shirt and wave it about. They spotted me and came over. They threw me a line. Then I went on board and they towed mine back to shore. They saw the shark too and said how lucky I had been. They said they had heard of someone being tipped out of their boat a few months before and never being seen again. They said they thought it could be the same shark.”
“I’m glad you were safe,” said Ben.
“So was I,” said Badger.
Nothing more was said, apart from ‘Goodnight’, and shortly afterwards, tired from a day of hard work – and danger – Ben found himself drifting off to sleep, lulled by the creaking of timbers and the sound of the wind blowing gently against their porthole. He did not wake up until the following morning when he heard a bell being rung announcing the beginning of the day. It was not an ordinary day, of course. This was the day on which the Tobermory was to set sail. This was the start of the new school term.
A very narrow escape
The first thing was the muster roll. This took place out in the open, with everybody standing in lines on the main deck and shouting out “Aye, aye!” when their names were called. This was done in alphabetical order, starting with Monica Adams and ending with Peter Ziff. When they reached M, and MacTavish B, was called out, followed by MacTavish F, Ben heard a snigger somewhere in a row behind him. He did not turn his head, but he was fairly sure it would be from one of three people, even if he could not see which one it was.
Thomas Seagrape was standing nearby. Lowering his voice, he said to Ben, “Ignore them. That’s what I always do.”
After the roll call the Captain addressed the whole school. He was wearing his best uniform, with its bright brass buttons, each with a small anchor stamped into the metal. The Captain had a loud voice and everybody was able to hear each word he spoke, even though there were seagulls squawking at the top of their voices above the ship.
“Today we set sail at the beginning of a new term,” began the Captain. “You all know what to do, and if you don’t, then you’ll soon learn. I want you to do your best – that’s all. You can’t do better than that, can you? No, you can’t. And remember this: the sea can be a dangerous place. Have fun, but don’t take any risks. Follow commands. Do your work. Stay alert. That’s all.”
“That’s the same speech he gives every term,” Poppy whispered to Fee. “We’d all faint with surprise if he said anything new.”
Now it was the turn of another teacher to speak. This was Mr Rigger, a man with large arm muscles and the longest moustache at sea. This moustache was his pride and joy and everybody used it to tell the direction of the wind. If you looked at Mr Rigger’s moustache and then checked your compass, you could tell whether the wind was in the south-west or the east, or whatever direction it was blowing from. He did not mind people doing this, and if asked he would stand with his head into the wind so that his moustache could be read.
“Mr Rigger teaches seamanship,” Poppy explained to Fee. “That’s all about how to sail and keep the ship afloat.”
Fee’s eyes widened. Surely there was no chance of a ship as big as the Tobermory going down. “On our submarine we never had to worry about sinking,” she said, “because that’s what submarines are meant to do.”
Poppy laughed. “Oh, the Tobermory is very safe,” she assured her friend. “And as for Mr Rigger, he’s really nice – he never shouts at you if you get something wrong. And if you get it right, he says ‘Lovely-jubberly’ and sometimes even gives you a peppermint.”
“That’s the best sort of teacher,” said Fee.
Mr Rigger stepped into the Captain’s place.
“Now then, everybody,” he began. “We’re going to start by getting the ship ready to leave port. You all know your stations.” He paused. “Anybody new?’
Hesitantly, Ben and Fee raised their hands.
“Ah yes,” said Mr Rigger. “MacTavish F and MacTavish B. You can start today with the Captain. He’ll show you the helm. The rest of you, report to your places in fifteen minutes. Sails, lines, anchor – off you go!”
With fifteen minutes in hand, Ben went over to the railings to look out at Tobermory harbour. Badger and Thomas went with him, and Badger pointed out some of the sights.
“That’s the pier over there,” he said, pointing to a large stone wall. “You see that caravan parked on it? That sells the best fish and chips in Scotland. You should try them.”
“Badge is right,” said Thomas. “Badger and I call chips French fries. I dream of them, you know. You should have them next time we’re in port, Ben.”
“I will,” said Ben. He had noticed a large sailing ship riding at anchor not far from the pier. “What’s that ship?” he asked.
Badger looked to where Ben was pointing. “Oh, that,” he said. “She’s called the Albatross. Somebody said that’s she’s a film ship.”
Ben was puzzled. “A film ship?”
“There’s a film crew onboard,” explained Badger. “They’re making a movie about people who go off on a cruise and have all sorts of adventures. Poppy knows something about it. She heard people talking about it ashore.”
Ben stared at the ship. Several people in white uniforms – the sailors, he assumed – were using an onboard crane to take on supplies from a small boat.
Badger looked at his watch. “Time’s almost up,” he said. “You’d better go and report to the Captain.” He pointed to where the Captain was standing behind the large wheel near the back, the ship’s stern. Fee was already there.
“Good luck,” said Badger. “Every new person gets the chance on his first day to help the Captain at the helm. It’s a treat to go with the beginning of your sailing career.”
Ben made his way to join the Captain and Fee. Once he was there, the Captain explained to the two of them how to steer the boat. He also unfolded a large chart that showed the sea and the surrounding shores.
“The blue bits are the sea,” he said. “The green bits are land. The numbers you see on the blue bits are the depth of the sea in that particular place.”
Ben and Fee studied the chart. They had seen their parents spread out maps and charts many times before. They noted where Tobermory harbour was and they saw the way out, past a small island, to the Sound of Mull beyond. They saw some rocks marked with a cross and arrows showing the way the currents moved.
“Th
is is where we’re going,” said the Captain. “There’s an island called Canna which is up here.” He jabbed at the chart with a finger. ‘That’s where we’ll spend the night. We’ll anchor in this bay here.” He tapped the chart again. “And then the following day, we’ll head for this island over here.” He indicated land on the chart. The chart was put away in a nearby locker.
“Weigh anchor!” shouted the Captain.
This was the signal for a rumbling, clanking sound to start at the other end of the ship.
“The anchor chain’s coming up nicely,” said the Captain.
After a couple of minutes the last of the chain was wound up and the great anchor, a massive metal hook dripping with mud and seaweed, was cranked into its resting place. Down below could be heard the rumble of the engine and the swishing sound of the propeller. Then, slowly but purposefully, the ship turned her nose into the wind and began to slide through the water.
Ben smiled at Fee, and she smiled back. This was a big moment for both of them – the beginning of their first voyage on the ship that was to be their school – and their home – for the next few years.
It took them half an hour to work their way up the last of the channel separating the island of Mull from the mainland of Scotland. Then, when they were level with the tip of the island, the wider sea opened up before them. There, far off to the north, was the big Isle of Skye and its smaller islands, scattered in the sea like crumbs thrown into the water. Off to the starboard side were towering cliffs that marked the edge of Scotland. Now it was time to switch off the ship’s engine and for the sails to be rolled out. Ben held his breath as he saw people scaling the rope ladders to prepare the sails. He hardly dared look while the great sheets of white canvas flapped and billowed, but then he saw everybody making their way down safely to the deck and he was able to breathe freely again.
As the sails filled, Ben felt the ship leap forward, like a dog let off the leash. At the same time, the deck tilted away from the wind, so that the whole world suddenly seemed to be at a bit of an angle. Fee almost lost her balance, but managed to grab hold of Ben’s shoulder and stay upright.