‘Yes.’
‘I reckoned that was she as soon as I seed ’er, and ain’t she smart with her enamel and all? But I’d a knaowed she anywhere. Scores and scores o’ times she’s laid alongside o’ we, that she hev!’
No damage was done except to my feelings. But the barge skipper had the delicacy to say that the Ark Royal had meant to rub noses with an old friend, and had dragged alongside on purpose.
At Pin Mill Louisa had the panic of her life. We were all on shore except Louisa, and a shift of wind blew the stern of the anchored Ark Royal on to the mud. As the tide fell the barge’s bows sank lower and lower until, to Louisa’s horror, water began to rise over the kitchen floor. Seeing the water rise continually, she naturally thought the vessel had sprung a leak and was going to sink. Her first idea was to lift the plug to let the water out—a thing she had seen me do when the ship was high and dry. But luckily she could not get at it. With some presence of mind she then went on deck and hailed a neighbouring barge, whose skipper and mate came off and helped her to bail out her kitchen, and explained to her that as a barge is flat-bottomed the pumps can never empty her completely, and a very thin layer of water spread over such a large surface will seem considerable when it runs to one end.
Life moves slowly in Pin Mill. If going by steamer to Ipswich or Harwich one is expected to be seated in the ferry-boat, which goes out to meet the steamer, at least ten minutes before she starts. When we went to Ipswich one day the ferry-man, having stowed us and the other passengers in the boat, left us and returned fifty yards up the hard to resume varnishing a boat. When we did start it was certainly five minutes earlier than necessary, and we had not got more than half-way out when I saw a look of annoyance come into the ferry-man’s face.
‘There yaou are,’ he said angrily, jerking his hand towards some figures on the shore; ‘them people tould me they wanted to go to Ipswich, and they came daown half an hour agoo, and they ’adn’t got nawthen to do, only wait, and they goo off for a walk or suthen!’
Another day the children’s gramophone nearly caused a fire on board to be more serious than it need have been, for it prevented us from hearing the cries for help which Louisa uttered while she struggled with an outbreak in the forecastle. We had bought a new cooking-stove with a patent automatic oil feed. We ought to have understood when buying it that it would be unsuitable because it had to be kept upright. The first time it was used while we were under way was one day in Harwich Harbour. We had been running, and had just hauled our wind to stand up the Orwell. Luncheon was almost ready. The Ark Royal was heeling a little to a fine topsail breeze, and was spanking along to a selection from the ‘Mikado,’ when suddenly I saw some smoke issuing from the forehatch. I sent one of the boys forward to see what was happening, and he bellowed back that the forecastle was on fire. The Mate took the wheel, and I rushed forward in time to see Louisa, like a pantomime demon, pop up through the forehatch in a cloud of smoke. We attacked the fire from aft, and a few buckets of water and some damp sacking put it out.
In September we returned to Newcliff, went into our old berth in the creek, and once more spent Christmas on board.
Soon afterwards the Mate was taken mysteriously ill. The doctor asked for another opinion, and a specialist came from London. But for the fact of our isolation on board ship the diagnosis would instantly have been typhoid. But the next two days, we were told, would settle the question.