Classic Bestsellers from Josephine Cox: Bumper Collection

‘You’ll have a drink with me afore you go, won’t you, son?’ Archie’s eyes clouded over. ‘Being as this is my last trip.’

Knowing how upset he was at not sailing away again, John didn’t have the heart to refuse. ‘I’ll be glad to,’ he answered. Beckoning the landlord, he ordered, ‘A pint jug for my mate here … and a half-jug for me.’ The last thing he wanted was to be smelling of ale when he met up with Emily.

The landlord set about the order. ‘Will you be wanting soap?’

‘What?’ John had momentarily forgotten the gist of their previous conversation.

‘I said, will you be wanting soap? For your bath?’ He placed the two jugs of ale within John’s reach.

Collecting the drinks and holding them in his fists, John was astonished at such a question. ‘O’ course I will! How can I wash without soap?’

‘Oh, you’d be surprised at how many folks do,’ came the answer.

‘Well, I’ll have the soap if you please.’ Turning to Archie, he suggested, ‘We’ll sit at the table over there. It’ll be easier to talk if we’re away from the bar.’

It was a mystery to him why folks always wanted to linger round the bar when there were perfectly comfortable tables and chairs to be got. But sometimes a man needed to stay upright, near to companions, and close to the booze. Once or twice, when they’d docked at some foreign port to offload the cargo, he himself had been in that same situation – lost and lonely, and in need of something to help spirit him home, across those endless waters to Salmesbury, Potts End Farm – and his beloved Emily.

‘Will you be wanting a full bar, or half a bar?’ The landlord’s voice cut across his thoughts.

John was bemused. ‘Half a bar of what exactly?’

‘Soap, o’ course!’

‘Oh, I think half a bar should do it.’

‘And will you be wanting your water hot, cold or lukewarm?’

‘Well, I’ll not want it cold, that’s for sure, and I’ll not want it to be scalding the skin off my back, so I’ll have it just above lukewarm, if that’s all right with you.’ He thought the landlord to be either a bit dim, or cunning as a fox. ‘And how much is all this gonna cost me?’

‘All depends.’

‘On what?’

‘Whether you want a full bath o’ water, or half a bath full?’

Growing frustrated, John set the jugs of ale on the bar. ‘Look, I’m not a difficult man. All I want is a full-sized towel, half a bar of soap and a bath of water, not scalding and not ice-cold. So, how much will that run me?’

‘And will that be a bath half-full, or a bath filled to the brim?’

‘A bath filled three-quarters,’ John answered with a little rise of laughter. ‘If it’s half-filled, I’ll not get a proper wash, will I? And if it’s filled to the brim, half the water will spill out the minute I set foot in it.’

To his consternation, the landlord went carefully through his list again. ‘Right. I reckon that’s done it.’ He put down his pencil. ‘It’ll be ready inside o’ twenty minutes.’

‘You still haven’t said what it’ll cost me.’

‘Let me see now.’ Once more he consulted his list, muttering all the while, until he raised his head. ‘That’ll be sixpence halfpenny.’

‘What’s the halfpenny for?’ John asked, highly amused.

The landlord gave a wink. ‘For the girl who fills the bath, o’ course.’ Leaning forward he whispered, ‘For another tuppence, she’ll wash your back, if you know what I mean?’ His bushy eyebrows went up like two pheasants let loose.

John’s answer was short and sweet. ‘I’ll manage to wash my own back, thank you. Just get it all ready inside of twenty minutes, will you? I’ve an itch to be on my way soon as ever.’

As he and Archie crossed the room to their table, John was not surprised to hear a shout from the landlord. ‘That’ll be another halfpenny!’

John swung round. ‘What for?’

‘Well, if you’re gonna wash your own back, you’ll be needing a scrubbing brush – unless you’ve an arm long enough to reach your backside?’

When John was lost for words, he promptly wrote it down on his list.

‘He’s a crafty old bugger is that one!’ Grateful to sit down, Archie dropped himself into the hard, wooden chair. His feet were aching, and these days he found it hard to stand for too long at a time.

John placed his jug of ale before him. ‘Get that down you,’ he said, ‘before he charges us another sixpence for the use of the jugs.’ At which they both laughed out loud.

‘I was hoping you’d show up here.’ During their time at sea, Archie had found a real friend in John. ‘I’d have been disappointed to miss you.’

‘Me too, Archie. I’m glad we found each other before I left these parts for good.’

‘You haven’t changed your mind then, about that one more trip?’

‘Never!’ Seated astride the chair, John assured him with passion, ‘I’ve sailed my last voyage, and thankful for it.’

‘You there!’ The landlord’s voice sailed across the room. ‘You’ll be wanting a comb for your hair. I could do that for tuppence?’

Reaching into his jacket pocket, John withdrew the comb he’d bought in some foreign port. ‘Got my own, thanks.’ He held it high for the landlord to see. ‘This one only cost me a halfpenny in the marketplace.’

‘Oh, please yourself!’ The landlord scowled as he put away his list.

Archie chuckled. ‘The cost of a good bath goes up an’ up, though I’ve not had one in months, and don’t care to. Besides, I’ve seen enough of water to last me a lifetime.’

John saw the disappointment in the old man’s face. ‘You’ll miss it though, won’t you, Archie?’

‘What’s that you say?’ Archie cupped a hand to his ear. Some days he could hear a whisper from twenty yards away. Other days, he couldn’t even hear his own thinking.

‘The sea!’ John leaned forward, emphasising his words. ‘You’ll miss being at sea, won’t you?’

Understanding flooded the old man’s face. ‘Oh.’ He nodded. ‘I will that,’ he confessed. ‘But you understand, I can’t do the job any more.’ He gave an almighty sigh. ‘Me legs won’t go as fast as I want, and me back’s more bent and crooked with every trip.’ He glanced out the window at the merchant ships and the many different sails billowing in the March breezes; a great sadness came over his heart. ‘I must admit I would have liked to go on, but it’s not easy being ship’s cook. You need to be strong and able, and this last trip I wasn’t up to the job at all.’

Spreading out his hands, he told John, ‘See that, son? My fingers are as crooked as twigs off a tree. I drop things all the time now. I can’t seem to get a grip on anything proper. I forget things too, like not ordering enough flour on the last trip, so’s the men had short rations of bread. How long will it be before I forget to order the food altogether, tell me that? And though the men didn’t rile me about the bread, what would they say if they didn’t have their bellies filled morning and night, eh?’

John had to admit, ‘They’d not take kindly to it, that’s for sure.’

A third voice interrupted, ‘Like as not they’d throw you over the side.’

Turning towards the voice, John and Archie looked at the fellow seated at the next table; a sad-looking, unkempt individual with long, straggly brown hair and beard, it was instantly clear he hadn’t shaved or bathed in weeks. They saw how he wolfed down the remains of his ale as though his thirst was strangling him. ‘Been at sea yourself, have you?’ Archie asked.

‘I don’t think there’s anywhere I haven’t been,’ the fellow answered. ‘But I do know that a cook who can’t deliver a meal to the crew won’t be welcome on any ship that I know of.’