Read Online Offshore by Penelope Fitzgerald - Free Book Online
Authors: Penelope Fitzgerald
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2 SEAMEN , and the deckhouse, from which Willis had watched the life of the river go by, both made a good impression.
‘You’ll have noticed the quality of the bottom planking,’ said the clerk. ‘All these ends are 2½ English elm for three strakes out from the centre, and after that you’ve got oak. That’s what Nelson meant, you know, when he talked about wooden walls. Mind, I don’t say that she hasn’t been knocked about a bit … There may be some weathering here and there …’
After a few weeks which to Willis, however, seemed like a few years, the broker’s solicitors made a conditional offer for the poor old barge, and finally agreed to pay £1500, provided that Dreadnought was still in shipshape condition six months hence, in the spring of 1962.
Six months, Willis repeated. It was a long time to wait, but not impossible.
Richard suggested that the intervening time could well be spent in replacing the pumps and pump-wells, and certain sections of the hull. It was difficult for him to realise that he was dealing with, or rather trying to help, a man who had never, either physically or emotionally, felt the need to replace anything. Even Willis’s appearance, the spiky short black hair and the prize-fighter’s countenance, had not changed much since he had played truant from Elementary school and gone down to hang about the docks. If truth were known, he had had a wife, as well as a perdurable old mother, a great bicyclist and supporter of local Labour causes, but both of them had died of cancer, no replacements possible there. The body must either repair itself or stop functioning, but that is not true of the emotions, and particularly of Willis’s emotions. He had come to doubt the value of all new beginnings and to put his trust in not much more than the art of hanging together. Dreadnought had stayed afloat for more than sixty years, and Richard, Skipper though he was, didn’t understand timber. Tinkering about with the old boat would almost certainly be the end of her. He remembered the last time he had been to see the dentist. Dental care was free in the 60s, in return for signing certain unintelligible documents during the joy of escape from the surgery. But when the dentist had announced that it was urgently necessary to extract two teeth Willis had got up and walked away, glad that he hadn’t taken off his coat and so would not have to enter into any further discussion while he recovered it from the waiting-room. If one goes, he thought, still worse two, they all go.
‘ Dreadnought is good for a few years yet,’ he insisted. ‘And what kind of repairs can you do on oak?’
‘Have you asked him about the insurance valuation?’ Laura asked Richard.
‘There isn’t one. These old barges – well, they could get a quotation for fire, I suppose, but not against flood or storm damage.’
‘I’m going home for a fortnight. It may be more than a fortnight – I don’t really know how long.’
‘When?’
‘Oh, quite soon. I’ll need some money.’
Richard avoided looking at her, for fear she should think he meant anything particular by it.
‘What about Grace ?’ Laura went on.
‘What about her?’
‘Is Grace in bad condition?’
Richard sighed. ‘Not as good as one would like. There the trouble is largely above the waterline, though. I’ve told Nenna time and again that she ought to get hold of some sort of reliable chap, an ex-Naval chippie would be the right sort, just to spend the odd day on board and put everything to rights. There aren’t any partitions between the cabins, to start with.’
‘Did Nenna tell you that?’
‘You can see for yourself, if you drop in there.’
‘What a very odd thing to tell you.’
‘I suppose people have got used to bringing me their queries, to some extent,’ said Richard, going into their cabin to take off his black shoes and put on a pair of red leather slippers, which, like all his other clothes, never seemed to wear out.
‘You’ll have noticed the quality of the bottom planking,’ said the clerk. ‘All these ends are 2½ English elm for three strakes out from the centre, and after that you’ve got oak. That’s what Nelson meant, you know, when he talked about wooden walls. Mind, I don’t say that she hasn’t been knocked about a bit … There may be some weathering here and there …’
After a few weeks which to Willis, however, seemed like a few years, the broker’s solicitors made a conditional offer for the poor old barge, and finally agreed to pay £1500, provided that Dreadnought was still in shipshape condition six months hence, in the spring of 1962.
Six months, Willis repeated. It was a long time to wait, but not impossible.
Richard suggested that the intervening time could well be spent in replacing the pumps and pump-wells, and certain sections of the hull. It was difficult for him to realise that he was dealing with, or rather trying to help, a man who had never, either physically or emotionally, felt the need to replace anything. Even Willis’s appearance, the spiky short black hair and the prize-fighter’s countenance, had not changed much since he had played truant from Elementary school and gone down to hang about the docks. If truth were known, he had had a wife, as well as a perdurable old mother, a great bicyclist and supporter of local Labour causes, but both of them had died of cancer, no replacements possible there. The body must either repair itself or stop functioning, but that is not true of the emotions, and particularly of Willis’s emotions. He had come to doubt the value of all new beginnings and to put his trust in not much more than the art of hanging together. Dreadnought had stayed afloat for more than sixty years, and Richard, Skipper though he was, didn’t understand timber. Tinkering about with the old boat would almost certainly be the end of her. He remembered the last time he had been to see the dentist. Dental care was free in the 60s, in return for signing certain unintelligible documents during the joy of escape from the surgery. But when the dentist had announced that it was urgently necessary to extract two teeth Willis had got up and walked away, glad that he hadn’t taken off his coat and so would not have to enter into any further discussion while he recovered it from the waiting-room. If one goes, he thought, still worse two, they all go.
‘ Dreadnought is good for a few years yet,’ he insisted. ‘And what kind of repairs can you do on oak?’
‘Have you asked him about the insurance valuation?’ Laura asked Richard.
‘There isn’t one. These old barges – well, they could get a quotation for fire, I suppose, but not against flood or storm damage.’
‘I’m going home for a fortnight. It may be more than a fortnight – I don’t really know how long.’
‘When?’
‘Oh, quite soon. I’ll need some money.’
Richard avoided looking at her, for fear she should think he meant anything particular by it.
‘What about Grace ?’ Laura went on.
‘What about her?’
‘Is Grace in bad condition?’
Richard sighed. ‘Not as good as one would like. There the trouble is largely above the waterline, though. I’ve told Nenna time and again that she ought to get hold of some sort of reliable chap, an ex-Naval chippie would be the right sort, just to spend the odd day on board and put everything to rights. There aren’t any partitions between the cabins, to start with.’
‘Did Nenna tell you that?’
‘You can see for yourself, if you drop in there.’
‘What a very odd thing to tell you.’
‘I suppose people have got used to bringing me their queries, to some extent,’ said Richard, going into their cabin to take off his black shoes and put on a pair of red leather slippers, which, like all his other clothes, never seemed to wear out.
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