Chapter 4

When Chrissie awoke on Sunday morning, the euphoria of the previous evening had largely worn off. For eight years she'd successfully sublimated the drives, the needs she'd had when she and Tom had been together, but the brief contact they'd enjoyed (and that was precisely the right word, despite the unsettling nature of the experience) had reawakened her sexuality. As a result, after dressing and breakfast, as the young musicians boarded the coaches on the way to Birmingham, she didn't fend off the young man, a violinist, who asked if he could sit with her for the journey. What could have been a long and tedious trip was lightened by his near reverence for her abilities. She blushed, but accepted his compliments, on her appearance and talent.

As the passengers boarded SB Thistle, Tom couldn't help noticing a familiar figure. Had he not noticed, she would have approached him anyway, but he moved to greet her.

"Ally! What brings you here?"

"I'm rather hoping you've got a space for a Third Hand today," she smiled. "If not, I guess I'll have to pay for my passage."

"You're very welcome," he said, "It's just me and Rusty. A bit of glamour won't come amiss, especially if it comes in a package I know to be a competent sailor. We can use a Chanty-man too."

"Whatever it takes, you smooth-talking charmer."

"We're coming back here this evening, but you can stay with us back to Maldon if you like."

"I've got my kit and guitar in the car – I won't be a moment. Yes, please, I'd love to stay with you to Maldon."

The wind was right to get Thistle underway without the engine, which was always Tom's preference, and as soon as they were clear of the pier and moving well, 'Rusty' Ironside called a couple of the punters who were keen to play a part in the sailing of the ship, showed them the tops'l halyard and ran up the ratlines to throw off the lashings. Soon he was back on deck and smiling at Alison as he took his place at the halyard too.

"Take it away, chanty-man," he called.

Alison coarsened and projected her voice...

"I'll sing ye a song all about the high sea, and I'll trust that ye' join in this chorus wid me...

Oh! as I wuz a-rollin' down Paradise Street,

(Rusty and Tom joined in) Timme way, hay, blow the man down!

A fat Irish bobby I chanced for to meet,

(Rusty and Tom again) Ooh! Gimme some time to blow the man down!"

In a halyard chanty, there is a natural rhythm to the song and the rope is heaved on at specific syllables of the chorus only; the two punters soon caught on and were joining in the chorus lines as they hauled away... "Timme way, hay, blow the man down!" and "Ooh! Gimme some time to blow the man down."

It brought the tops'l up quickly and then sheeted fast; Thistle really felt the extra canvas.

Rusty gestured to Alison to keep singing – the song has a great many verses, too many for a relatively light and straightforward job like hoisting the topsail on a Thames barge – but it was more about entertaining the punters than helping the work. To purists, perhaps, an abuse of a working song, but great fun and keeping something valuable alive.

As they rounded the point they had to put in a tack or two before working down river close hauled on port tack. The ship being 'right' for the time being, Rusty called to Alison, "What about 'Liverpool Judies' Ally?"

"Okay!...

From Liverpool to 'Frisco a-rovin' I went,

For to stay in that country was my good intent.

But drinkin' strong whiskey like other damn fools,

I was very soon Shanghaied back to Liverpool, singin'."

Nearly everyone joined in with the chorus...

"Roll, roll, roll bullies, roll!

Them Liverpool judies have got us in tow."

It was a really good 'jolly' – a solid, reliable easterly wind enabled Thistle to carry all her canvas and make the most of her sea-keeping abilities. As Alison finished the seven verses of 'Liverpool Judies' – at least, the version she knew – Tom called her aft and handed over the wheel, then stood, legs akimbo, just feeling the ship, the motion and the wind; certain he was in his place, in his element. For her part, Alison let go of her concerns for her friends, just for the time being, and soaked up the experience also.

The young musicians travelled on a budget. That was of necessity; transporting and accommodating an orchestra is expensive and so is the hire of suitable venues, while the young people themselves haven't yet got names that attract large, high-paying audiences. Discerning music lovers will pay to hear them, happily, because they know they can expect a high standard of musicianship and, sometimes, a sublime experience. All of which is to say, they stayed in budget hotels, usually on special deals, and usually shared rooms.

Chrissie's room-mate should have been Helene but Helene had taken herself back to her parents' place, not wishing to sit out the concerts, so Chrissie had a room to herself. As it was, she and her admirer ate together that evening and continued to chat until it was time to retire to bed.

Meanwhile, Thistle had deposited her very happy passengers back at the Ha'penny Pier around six o'clock and set off to make the night passage back to Maldon.

While it was still light, after they'd entered 'The Wallet' heading south, Tom left Rusty at the wheel and went below to make a sandwich and brew tea for everyone. Alison followed him.

"Tom ... I need to ask you something..."

He looked at her, frowning, "You sound serious, Pet."

"What is it with you and Chrissie?"

That was something he hadn't expected and he didn't have time to make up a good (if misleading) answer. "Er ... we're friends."

"Funny ... once I thought you were ... rather more than friends."

He blushed. "I..."

"Tom, Chrissie would kill me for telling you this, but she's in love with you."

"Sure, we love each other..." he began.

"Tom, I don't mean she loves you like ... a brother. She's in love with you."

Tom's blush deepened perceptibly and he mumbled something.

"I didn't hear that, but I suspect it's codswallop," she said.

"I said," Tom spoke more distinctly, "she's much too good for me. I'm just a sailorman. I'll always be grubby, working odd hours, away for days at a time. When I work the motor-barges, I'm away from Monday to Friday, working four on, four off, twenty-four hours a day. And my background..."

"Tom, I don't know the details, but I do know you've got a reputation as a hard-working, utterly reliable, skilled seaman. You've earned that despite your background as you put it. You do a skilled, responsible job ... God, Tom, I want to hit you."

"That would be mutiny, you know. I might have to keel-haul you ... or perhaps send you to sit at the cross-trees all night," but he was smiling as he said it.

"Seriously, Tom ... what is really ludicrous is that Chrissie doesn't think she's good enough for you."

"But ... that's daft! She's beautiful, talented, clever..."

"And she's in love with you, who is manly, talented, determined and strong, who supported her and loved her when she was alone and at rock-bottom."

"Better get back on deck with this tea..." Tom turned away.

Alison touched his shoulder, "Please, Tom..."

"It's okay, Alison, Petal," he said, turning his head to look at her, "I don't know what I'll do yet, but I don't want to hurt Chrissie ... or you. Right now, I'm responsible for the ship. I need to take this tea to Rusty and maybe get a couple of hours sleep."

Tom had left instructions he was to be called when the Knoll Buoy was reached, which took about two and a half hours after he went below. Alison was sent to get some sleep, while Rusty stayed up for a while and got the topsail stowed. That meant Thistle was slower, and in the Blackwater there was less wind, too.

Rusty got a couple of hours sleep, too before Tom needed his help for the last leg, gybing onto the reach past Heybridge, then again to approach Maldon.

They snugged Thistle down just after the tide turned, about oh four thirty, did a rough stow and turned in.

Alison was first up. She called her mother and arranged to be collected that afternoon, then organised a cooked breakfast – 'brunch' might be a better term – for Tom and Rusty.

It was a little out of the way, but Jessica didn't mind taking Tom to collect his car from Mistley on the way back to Felixstowe with Alison.