Muriel rang again that evening and she increased the pressure by adding that Carmen had agreed to do the diving with her. Poor Andrew just could not pluck up the courage to admit he was terrified! Instead he changed the subject to the movies on Saturday night. Muriel’s answer was that she would be driven to and from the cinema by her mother, along with her girl friends. “We will just have to meet inside,” she said.
That was a lot better than nothing so Andrew went to ask his mother if he could go. She wanted to know who he was going with and that made him say Blake and Luke.
“How are you getting there?” his mother next asked.
“Don’t know,” Andrew replied, kicking himself for not having his plan thought through.
“I will drive you then,” his mother replied.
That left Andrew with no option but to ask Blake if he would come. As soon as he saw him at school he went over and asked, “Can you come to the movies on Saturday night?”
To his relief Blake could and he agreed to ask Shona. “I might get lucky,” he added.
Images of himself with Letitia in January flooded Andrew’s mind making him feel both aroused and jealous, then guilty. ‘Would I do ‘it’ if the opportunity arose?’ he wondered. To his own regret he suspected he would, but was sure it would not be with Muriel. ‘She is much too nice and too special,’ he thought.
After school he hurried home and dropped of his schoolbag. Then he and Carmen rode their bikes over to the Retirement Village. Andrew felt very self-conscious going in there, for once aware of his age. The people at the office directed them to a lounge room where they found Gran and a wrinkled old man with skin as brown as a walnut. His head was bald and shiny and his hands were all curled up but there was a bright twinkle in his eye.
Gran introduced them to Mr McGackey, one time cook and deckhand on various ships. Mr McGackey stared hard at Andrew, looking him slowly up and down. Then he nodded. “Aye, ye be the spittin’ image of Bert Collins when he were a boy, I reckon,” he said.
“You knew him then?” Andrew asked.
“Aye, knew him very well. It was only pure chance that I were not with him on that last voyage when he was lost at sea,” Mr McGackey answered.
“Why is that?” Carmen asked.
“Well, I were workin’ on the Deeral as deckhand, cook and general jack-of-all-trades when he and Murchison decided to use her to go lookin’ fer the pot of gold at the end of Merinda’s rainbow. I would’a bin on her but just that same day they got a call to haul a big barge off a sandbar at Mourilyan. That meant usin’ the Wallaman Falls. She was a tug yer know.”
Andrew nodded. “Yes, we know. We’ve seen photos.”
Mr McGackey went on, “Well, as luck would have it, Percy Westcott hurt his hand the day before. He were the regular deckhand on the tug yer see. Anyhow, seein’ that they needed a deckhand straight away I were transferred to the Wallaman Falls, seein’ as how I knew the ropes on her, so to speak.”
Brother and sister nodded politely while Mr McGackey nodded to himself and stared off into space for a few moments. Then he went on, “Luckiest thing I ever did. Otherwise I would have gone down with the Deeral, like as not, particularly seein’ as I can’t swim.” He chuckled, then said, “Caused a bit of an argument it did, between Bert Collins and Murchison. Bert wanted me along but Murchison insisted I go to the tug. In my place they hired two T.I. boys. Good lads they were too, and used to divin’, which was Murchison’s argument.”
Carmen looked puzzled. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
Mr McGackey looked thoughtful for a moment, then explained. “Your Grandad, Bert Collins, he was usually the skipper of the Deeral, with me as her other crewman. Too small for more than that, not even an engineer yer see,” he said. There was another pause, then he went on. “That Murchison, he was just a diver. Didn’t have no tickets yer see, I mean certificates to be a mate or a master. Allan Penwold were the master of the tug, and a right, good man. So I weren’t on the poor little Deeral when she made her last voyage.”
Carmen frowned, then asked, “You sound as though you don’t like Mr Murchison?”
“No, I didn’t,” Mr McGackey replied. “I thought he was a bit too tight, a real penny-pincher, yet greedy with it. Sorry, but he put me wrong a few times and I didn’t trust him. But then, ye say don’t. Is the man still alive?”
Andrew listened to that with some embarrassment. He answered. “Yes, he is. He lives in a house over at Bosuns Bay.”
“Well I never!” Mr McGackey commented. “Ah well, they say the Devil looks after his own. Fancy that, him still alive after all that!”
There was an uncomfortable silence. Andrew broke it by asking, “The Deeral, what was she? I’ve seen a photo but not a very good one. Could you tell us about her?”
“Certainly,” Mr McGackey agreed. “She were a good little ship that, a fifty six footer, made of galvanized steel. She were built on the Clyde as a workboat for the British Army during World War Two. She had a six cylinder G.M. diesel engine what rated at one hundred and fifty horse power. That pushed her along at about six or seven knots. Not much to her though. Only five foot of freeboard fully laden and just three compartments. Seaworthy enough in normal conditions though. But.. well.. we were always a bit wary of her.”
“Why was that?” Carmen asked.
“Her number,” Mr McGackey answered. “Her army hull number was AV 1313.” There was a pause and Mr McGackey looked slightly embarrassed. Then he explained, “Well, sailormen of my generation, we was a bit more superstitious than yer modern folk. Bad enough having one thirteen, but two! Well, some said it would all end in tears, and it did. To cap it off they sailed one a Friday. Bert didn’t want to but I heard Murchison arguing with him. ‘If we wait some one else might beat us to the wreck,’ he said. So they sailed, and look where greed got them eh?”
“Was the ship in good condition?” Andrew asked.
“Oh fair enough. For all that they tried to keep costs down she was maintained alright. Bert seen to that, despite Murchison’s moaning about expenses.”
Carmen frowned. “I thought they were friends as well as partners. Was there some sort of disagreement?” she asked.
“There was a bit of tension,” Mr McGackey replied. “They had been friends but I think the business put a strain on that.”
“Can you tell us anything about what happened?” Andrew asked.
“No more’n you will have read in the papers,” Mr McGackey answered.
“Would you know where she sank?” Andrew asked.
Mr McGackey shook his head. “Nah! Don’t think anyone really knows. Somewhere out from the Whitsundays I heard.”
“What did the A. V. stand for?” Carmen queried.
“Army Vessel,” Mr McGackey replied.
Andrew was surprised. “Army? I thought the navy ran the ships?”
“Maybe now, but not then. Both our army and the British Army had their own boats, to move their own stuff wivout havin’ ter wait for the navy to agree yer see.”
Carmen nodded. “The army still has boats. They operate the small landing craft. You’ve seen them Andrew, those L.C.M 8s we saw in Ross River last January.”
Andrew had a vivid flashback to paddling in a canoe down the lower reaches of Ross River with the voluptuous Letitia