Read Online The Boat Girls by Margaret Mayhew - Free Book Online Page B

rudder trailing a flowing plume of horsehair. The girl had one arm hooked over the tiller and was mixing something in a bowl. As she passed Frances, she gave a smile and a wave of her wooden spoon.
    â€˜Nice scarf yer’ve got there. Wish I ’ad one loik that.’
    She would gladly have handed it over, but the butty was out of reach. The whole lock process had taken a matter of minutes, and yet neither theman nor the girl had seemed in any great rush. Every movement had been unhurried, the big boats controlled with ease. They had made it look quite simple.
    â€˜This,’ said Pip, holding up a bent piece of iron like the boatman had used, ‘is a windlass.
My
windlass. I’ll give you one of your own later and you must
never
lose it. And don’t ever lend it to anyone else either. Now, we’ll shut the top gates and drop the paddles. I’ll do this one and you do the one on the other side.’
    The other side meant walking yet another plank – the narrow and slippery walkway over the bottom gates – not so bad now that the lock was full, but it was still a long way down to the water on the outside. She held onto an iron rail until she reached the lock-side and ran up to the top gate. The heavy balance beam refused to budge an inch.
    Pip was leaning against her beam, walking backwards and pushing rather than pulling. She shouted across. ‘Go round the other side and put your back into it, it’s much easier and a lot safer.’
    Frances copied her and after a few desperate shoves the beam started to move; once she’d got it going, it swung over smoothly.
    Pip came across to show her how to drop the paddle. ‘You put the windlass just on the end of the spindle, give a half-turn back, release the safety catch, then take the windlass off quickly and downshe goes.’ The ratchet rattled down with a crash. ‘Now, we’ll open the bottom paddles to let the water out of the lock. Cowley lock’s always left ready for uphill boats. The lock-keeper usually sees to it, but we’ll save him the trouble.’
    Winding the paddle up was a lot harder than dropping it. She found that she barely had the strength to turn the windlass on the spindle, and Pip had to take over and finish the job for her.
    â€˜You need to build up some muscle power, that’s all. And always make sure the safety catch is properly engaged; if the ratchet slips when you’re winding, the windlass can fly off and hit you.’
    With the paddles up, the lock chamber was emptying fast, the water churning and whirl-pooling outside the gates as the lock water escaped into the cut below. When the levels were even, they opened the bottom gates ready for the next boats.
    â€˜Time to go back,’ Pip said. ‘But first we’ll have to wind the motor – that means turning round.’
    Winding the seventy-foot-long narrowboat in the canal was akin to turning a huge lorry in a narrow country lane, but Pip managed it smoothly without getting stuck on any mud.
    â€˜Have a go on the tiller now, Frances. Let’s see how you do. Remember, push it the opposite way to where you want to go – right to go left, and left to go right.’
    They swopped places, Pip perched out on the gunwale, while Frances stood on the counter, gripping the metal tiller behind her. She could feel it vibrating, expectantly, awaiting her commands.
Right to go left and left to go right.
Mercifully, the cut went straight for a while until they came to a gentle right-hand bend.
    â€˜Don’t cut your corner,’ Pip said. ‘Keep going right round the bend.’
    She pushed the tiller a little to the left and the
Cetus
responded obediently, her fore-end swinging round to follow the curve of the bank.
    Pip beamed. ‘I think you’re a natural. It’s instinctive with some people, you know. Others never quite manage it.’
    After the bend, though, she was dismayed to see a pair of