There wasn’t anything particularly exceptional about Leo. He was an average-looking, sandy-haired fourteen-year-old who would have been underfed if his good friend Chef hadn’t regularly slipped him trimmings from the kitchen.
No one knew Chef’s real name – or if they did, they didn’t use it. He had worked at The Fisherman’s Friend for as long as anyone could remember and he had always been protective of Leo.
Leo had, after all, practically grown up in the tavern. He had spent every holiday he could remember working there, and he knew every sailor in Southampton. He could take up to ten orders at a time, weaving between tables with a pile of plates stacked all the way up his arm. Painfully shy when he had started, he was now able to work a room of cantankerous fishermen like no other waiter Chef had known.
Last summer he had dropped out of school to work full time. It didn’t bother him that he was being paid a pittance. He was allowed to live in the bedsit upstairs for free and was saving what he could from tips. He had soon learnt that the better he treated his customers, the better they tipped.
Not that the fishermen seemed to be in a tipping mood this morning. They were already huddled in small, secretive groups, filling the tavern with smoke from long puffs of tightly-rolled cigarettes.
‘Afternoon,’ one fisherman grumbled as Leo walked past. Very funny, thought Leo. He glanced at his watch: 6.48am. Late again! He would never get used to these early starts. And he was angry with himself that he had again left it to Chef to take the first orders.
Not only fishermen came here: sailors, engineers, coastguard officials, port police – just about anyone who worked at the docks was in The Fisherman’s Friend at some time of the day.
It wasn’t an easy job, especially if, like Leo, you spent half your time eavesdropping. But how else was he going to learn which were the best ports to visit or the messiest cargoes? And it beat going to school. In here, no one seemed bothered that he wasn’t at school. Not even the port police. What was he thinking? Especially not the port police. They were the best tippers.
There were often arguments. Sometimes there were even fights. Mostly, though, there was talk of adventure.
Seeing that Chef had already taken the breakfast orders, Leo set about clearing away the empties.
He could do with a quiet day. He was already looking forward to getting away early that afternoon. Now that the days were getting longer, he had started diving again near the docks.
In the far corner of the room, a fisherman in yellow dungarees stood up and extended his arms until his chest seemed as broad as a bear’s.
‘How big?’ a voice boomed from another table, prompting peals of laughter.
At any other time, Leo would have found some excuse to listen in on the fisherman’s story. Wiping down a nearby table perhaps, or asking if anyone wanted another drink.
But Leo had other business this morning. There was a conversation going on at another table which had already grabbed his attention.
‘It’s over, Sam,’ a white-bearded captain was telling his first mate. ‘I should have retired long ago.’
‘But you’re the best captain here,’ the first mate protested. ‘You’ve got years left in you.’
The captain shook his head and drew on a pipe. ‘Look around you, Sam,’ he said, allowing a plume of smoke to drift from his mouth. ‘Most of this lot weren’t even born when I first took to the sea.’
Everyone knew the story of Captain Cadmus and his ship Max Panamax. Once, Max had been the envy of every captain in Southampton. People stood amazed when its red-and-black hull sailed into port for the first time. A bulk carrier with seven cargo holds! No one had seen its like before. It was a rags-to-riches story that set The Fisherman’s Friend abuzz with chatter for months. The last time Captain Cadmus had been around, he had barely enough money to pay the fuel bill for the rickety old tug boat his father had left him. Some of the looser tongues wagged that Captain Cadmus’s fortune was made too fast; that there was no cargo in the world valuable enough to have made him so much money, so quickly, that he was able to buy a ship the size of Max. And it didn’t help that Captain Cadmus hadn’t trusted any of the young sailors in town to be his first mate. Sam had appeared out of nowhere soon after. Leo never tired of hearing the story. Rumour had it there was no stricter captain around.
But the years had passed and Max was now badly in need of repair. Captain Cadmus’s last trip – more than a month ago now – ended in disaster when the bulk carrier’s engine seized in mid-ocean and the cargo of wheat it was carrying sprouted, making it worthless.
As soon as they were back in port, the crew – apart from the ever-faithful Sam – left. They wanted to work on a newer, faster ship.
‘I said hash browns, not chips!’ came a cry from a nearby table, followed by a loud thud.
Leo stumbled forward and steadied himself on the corner of a table. He winced and covered his mouth but didn’t say a word. He had been too engrossed in the conversation going on between Captain Cadmus and Sam to see the blow coming.
‘It’s okay,’ said Leo, wiping away a trickle of blood from the edge of his mouth. ‘I’m fine.’
‘I know you can take care of yourself, Leo,’ said Captain Cadmus. ‘But the likes of Fry have to learn that they can’t go around hitting boys.’
‘Captain Fry to you!’ came Syd’s greasy voice. Syd was usually only heard sniggering at his captain’s jokes. ‘I heard your crew deserted you. Don’t blame them. You booked into the scrapyard yet?’ All eyes in The Fisherman’s Friend were centred on the arguing men. There was nothing like a good fight to start the day.
The tension was cut by a yell from across the room: ‘Mind your own business, weasel!’
Leo would have been able to pick out Charlie’s Scottish tones anywhere.
Known for speaking his mind, Charlie had a rotten temper. And nothing angered him more than seeing people treated badly.
Captain Fry’s smirk turned into a grimace. ‘Well, if it isn’t the cranky chief engineer. Or at least you would be a chief engineer – if you actually had an engine to work on.’
It was true. Charlie had been out of work for the last two months. Most of that time was spent sitting alone in The Fisherman’s Friend, shirtsleeves rolled up, sipping a beer. It was the first time he had spoken – other than to order another pint – for over a week.
‘You’re a coward,’ Charlie snarled at Captain Fry, his crisp Scottish accent making the word coward sound like an incurable disease. ‘You and your excuse for a first mate. Pick on someone your own size.’
Size was something Charlie knew about. He was a head shorter than the wiry Captain Fry, but his powerful forearms, close-cropped hair and gold ear stud gave him a look of intimidating thuggery.
Leo raised a hand in the hope of calming the situation. ‘I’m okay,’ he insisted. It wasn’t in his interest to be the centre of an argument.
But this was no longer about Leo. Captain Fry shot to his feet. Still chewing, Syd rose next to him. Captain Cadmus and Sam stood to face them. And Charlie strode over.
‘Isn’t this a pretty picture?’ Captain Fry said, coughing out an exaggerated laugh. The tip of his angular nose twitched as he spoke. ‘An over-aged captain, a second-rate first mate and an out-of-work chief engineer. All you’d need is for Leo here to be your cabin boy and you’d be complete.’
Leo could handle a slap, but being insulted in front of everyone in The Fisherman’s Friend was something else. ‘I’d be proud to work for Captain Cadmus,’ he said spontaneously.
Captain Cadmus smiled. He had always been fond of Leo. ‘You think that that heap of a ship wouldn’t break down on you,’ Captain Fry went on, prompting a fisherman somewhere in the room to slap the table in laughter.
‘If you’re referring to Max, I’d make sure of it,’ Charlie replied defiantly.
For the first time, Captain Fry looked serious. ‘In your dreams! Max could never compete with the Omega!’
‘Compete?’ Captain Cadmus intervened. He was unrecognisable from the man who only moments ago was talking about retirement. ‘There’s no contest.’
Captain Fry bridled at the suggestion.
‘Name the route!’ Captain Cadmus demanded.
‘A challenge, hey?’ Captain Fry replied sternly. ‘Well, try this for size: three months; worldwide!’
Worldwide! Sam looked anxiously at Captain Cadmus. Only the most experienced crews attempted to trade right around the world. Making it back within three months was cutting it fine, especially on Max.
‘By the last day of June,’ Syd added.
‘Wow, so you can count as well,’ Leo said to Syd mockingly.
Captain Fry looked at Leo and raised a long, pointed finger.
‘You think you’re up to being a sailor?’
‘You bet I am!’
‘You bet what?’ came another voice. Everyone turned towards the figure blocking the kitchen doorway. He was ducking slightly so that his black mop of hair didn’t touch the doorframe. Typically, Chef’s blue-and-white striped apron was flecked with whatever was on the menu that morning and his thick fingers were drumming his folded arms. They always did when he was angry.
Right now, Leo wasn’t sure he wanted Chef to be a part of this.
‘If you’re going anywhere,’ the burly cook said, untying his apron and throwing it to the floor, ‘I’m going with you.’
Captain Fry bent over with laughter. ‘You have to be kidding!’ he said, before straightening up. ‘You think you lot could do the job of a real bulker? Do you even know what bulk carriers do? You lot wouldn’t make it out of port.’
Captain Cadmus puffed out his chest, straining the buttons of his initialled shirt. No one questioned his seamanship. Ever!
Leo wasn’t sure where to look any more. Captain Cadmus wasn’t about to back down. And nor were Sam or Charlie. As for Chef becoming involved…
‘So do we have a deal?’ said Captain Cadmus decisively.
Captain Fry pursed his narrow lips. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘If you and this motley crew you’ve attracted can trade around the world – and I mean right around the world – and be back here by the time we return, three months from today, you can have my ship. But if you fail, Max is mine … to sell for scrap!’
That was it, thought Leo. The threat to scrap Max would end this conversation and he could get back to serving drinks and earning tips. There was no way Captain Cadmus would risk his ship on him, let alone Charlie and Chef. He doubted if Chef had set foot on a boat before.
‘Deal!’ said Captain Cadmus with an outstretched hand.
Leo stared in disbelief at Captain Cadmus.
‘Deal!’ repeated Captain Fry with a surprisingly firm hand-shake.
Leo looked at Chef, expecting his good friend to laugh and tell him this was some kind of joke – that they could all go back to whatever they were doing five minutes ago. But all Chef offered was a shrug and an unconvincing ‘Deal’ of his own.
To be continued…
Limited numbers of signed copies are available directly by emailing
max.panamax.adventure@gmail.com
Or you can buy the book off Amazon here and the e-book off Kindle here.
And you can let us know what you think by writing a review here.
Privacy policy | ©Thrasy Petropoulos