Chapter 23

It was the first Saturday of the summer break. They'd loaded most of their requirements the previous night. Not without minor protests, Chrissie and Alison were on board Eirene with Dave and Jessica. Eight in the morning, slack high water; mainsail hoisted but not drawing, the motor running as Dave cast off the mooring and headed down-river towards the bar. Passing the Martello tower, he set the fore-sail and mizzen and they were sailing, using the fresh Easterly breeze. At the bar, they had to turn east to cross it and Dave opened the throttle, heading straight into wind. The beginning of the ebb conflicted with the wind to produce an unpleasant chop and Serenity tossed uncomfortably.

Alison and Chrissie sat with Jessica in the cockpit as Jessica stood easily at the helm. Chrissie looked rather green. Dave moved around the deck coiling lines, taking in fenders and generally being seaman-like.

Crossing the bar took only a few minutes under power and soon enough they were heading south under sail and the motor was silent.

"Aren't you the captain?" Chrissie asked Dave.

"Well now, nominally, yes. It was my boat before we were married. If there's a serious decision to be made, it's up to me ... but Jess is a Yacht Master; I'm just an amateur, so obviously I look to her for advice. She's a more skilled helmsman than I, too, so it makes sense for me to do the heavier deck-work and let her steer. How are you feeling?"

Eirene was rising comfortably to the swell in an even motion.

"A bit ... queasy," Chrissie admitted.

"Here," Jessica said, "take the wheel."

"But..."

Jessica stepped away and placed Chrissie's hands on the wheel. "Turn the wheel slightly ... now back ... a little more, straighten up. Okay. The course is a little west of south. We're okay for a bit, just need to keep an eye open for buoys."

Chrissie stood with a look of concentration on her face, moving the wheel slightly. Dave and Jessica moved about the boat but there was always one of them not too far away from Chrissie, who no longer looked green. In less than an hour, they were crossing the deep-water channel into Harwich and heading for the Medusa.

Altering course a little further west, Alison took over with a grin at Chrissie, who sat in the cockpit, looking determinedly ahead.

"That's it," whispered Dave in her ear. "Fresh air, and keep your eyes on the horizon. Could you drink some ginger beer?"

"Why ginger beer?"

"Because ginger is good for settling uneasy tummys. You can have tea or coffee if you like – for that matter, there's cola, lemonade, orange juice..."

"No, ginger beer sounds good."

"Nibble a plain biscuit or two with it."

"Okay."

It's roughly twenty-eight sea miles to the entrance of the Blackwater. With the ebb against them they lost a little speed over the ground, about one knot, in fact, but with just about an ideal wind, they were making good about four knots. With no need to tack, they entered the Blackwater at 1500 hours, having nibbled sandwiches for lunch while under way. Two hours more saw them at Stone, where they picked up a buoy and rowed ashore, stretched their legs and got a decent meal at the pub. Chrissie was surprised at how hungry she was, suddenly realising she'd forgotten about being sea-sick somewhere along the way.

Returning to Eirene they left the mooring at 1900 and took their time making their way up to Maldon. Dave explained to Chrissie why they weren't in a rush.

"There's not enough water to float Eirene for most of the day, just an hour or two each side of high tide," he said, "if we hurried, we'd probably get on the mud and have to wait anyway. I want to get to the quay between eight and ten. I have a friend who's letting us have a berth right by the Queen's Head."

They were moored and settled by just after nine. The only 'fly in the ointment' for Chrissie was that Reminder was out on a cruise and wasn't due back until late Sunday. She and Alison flopped in their bunks and were asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillows. Jessica and Dave, however, slipped into the Queen's Head to unwind over a drink.

In the morning, they were able to eat their breakfasts sitting in the cockpit, watching the water rise inexorably, the wading birds moving higher and higher on the mud, just ahead of the water's edge. There was some activity on the quay and the barges moored alongside; two men were preparing SB 'Hydrogen' for a long day-sail.

The water continued to rise and the barges floated. As the girls watched, people arrived on the Hythe Quay to board Hydrogen. Alison disappeared below, reappearing with their guitars, a ring-bound book and some sheets of paper. Handing Chrissie her guitar, Alison opened the book, found the page she wanted, placed it on the cockpit seat beside her and strummed a chord.

"O, heave away, me bully boys," she sang,

"Leave her, Johnny, leave her!

Oh, pump away and make some noise,

Time for us to leave her!"

"Allie!" Chrissie interrupted her. "Please let me tune that guitar?"

"It's not that bad..."

"Maybe not to you ... perfect pitch, remember? But it's not even in tune with itself! Then you can explain."

Alison handed the instrument over without further protest and as Chrissie tuned it, then her own, Alison spoke.

"Daddy's always been keen on 'real' sailing. It was quite unusual for him to use the motor to leave the Deben; I think it was just that he didn't want you to have a hard time in the broken water over the bar – it can make even an experienced sailor nauseous. Anyway, he insisted on singing sea songs to me ... even though some of them are a bit ... naughty. This book's been about for years, and he copied some of the songs so we could both have music."

"Sea shanties?"

"Some of them. There's lots of different songs for different purposes. Some are just for entertainment, some to give a rhythm for a particular job aboard a ship. Shanties or Chanties – chants with a rhythm to help sailors pull or push together. Songs just for fun are called 'fore-bitters' because the singer perched on a part of the ship called the 'forebitts'."

"Wow. Never knew that! Let's have a look, then..."

As the Yeomans, with Chrissie, were on their way to Maldon, Amy, John and the twins were on their way to Birmingham. John, of course, wanted Amy to meet his parents but with Tom in the house and so much going on their first opportunity was the beginning of the school holidays as Tom was away sailing with Jenni. They discussed whether the twins should, or should not, accompany them, but felt in the end that they were so much part of the package that they could not be left behind. Besides, if the Shepherds were gaining instant grandchildren it was only right that they should meet them... before the wedding.

Now. If you're not familiar with English roads, two hundred and fifty miles may not sound much of a drive. 'Tis true, most of it is dual carriageway or motorway, but at the legal limit, if there are no hold-ups, that's four hours of continuous driving. Add in two active five-year-olds who may or may not sleep, toilet stops, stops for food, stops for coffee, delays for accidents, delays for roadworks, and 'coning'... 'coning', by the way (conspiracy theory coming up) is the activity of placing cones to restrict traffic flow as if road-works are to be carried out, but doing so when the road-works are unlikely to start for some time ... say, just before a public holiday ... so as to maximise disruption with the minimum of effort. The theory being that this will encourage travellers to use the railways rather than roads.

What you have, then, is probably six hours travelling time ... at least.

Amy is a remarkable woman. John could say, 'can we be on our way by nine o'clock?' and he could be reasonably sure that they'd be on their way by nine o'clock; children clean, fed and suitably dressed, cases packed and loaded and assorted games and activities for the children to keep them occupied.

Amy, the children and John arrived in Moseley, East Birmingham at four in the afternoon; tired, yes ... frayed, certainly ... but sane and intact.

Robert Shepherd was clearly John's father – the family resemblance was obvious. Eva Shepherd was a pleasant, friendly, slightly plump woman who immediately drew Amy into a warm embrace as Robert shook his son's hand, then squatted down and held out his hand to Andrew who stepped forward very seriously and took it.

"Good afternoon, sir. I'm Andrew."

"Good afternoon, Andrew. I'm Robert and glad to meet you."

Eva and Amy separated and watched the children. Andrew turned slightly and indicated his sister.

"Robert, this is my sister Lucy. Actually, she's my 'big' sister."

Lucy walked up to him as he squatted, put her arms round his neck and kissed his cheek.

"I'm pleased to meet you too, Lucy. Would you and Andrew like some juice?" He looked from one to the other.

"Yes, please, Robert," Andrew answered for both of them.

Eva took Amy's hand and squeezed it. When Amy looked at her she could see Eva's eyes were bright with tears.

"What gorgeous kids. Robert didn't stand a chance – he's quite lost. We're quite lost. Let's get inside and get outside a glass of wine." Looking at her son, she added, "Or you can raid your father's new bottle of Talisker."