Swashbuckling and Steam strains

Mrs Walker-Shelton

A morning turn on the Number 3s could be a mixed blessing. On the down side, they were a long day, you booked on between 5 and 6 A.M then got relieved between 4 and 5 PM before catching a boat back to base from Fremington, the boats were the Flower class which had no cover and no bar so a flask of either the hip or thermos variety (Or both) was necessary. On the up side, the Flower class were nippy little boats, and with lots of movement on the river, there was plenty of opportunity to see Fizz fall in the water.

“I hate doing these,” said Fizz.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because,” she said, “The river Caen is choppy, there’s no where to get out of the sun and my head hurts from last night.”

“I warned you never to try to out drink Spikey,” I said, “The woman has hollow legs.”

“I wasn’t trying to out drink her,” Fizz protested, “She just kept buying me drinks. Mind scramblingly strong cocktails. I’m not sure how she affords it either!”

“It’s pretty easy when the pub is just selling your alcohol for you,” I replied, “Meaning all you are paying for is the mixers.”

“I’m not sure there was much in there in the way of mixers.”

“Did you try to tell her to put more mixers in?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“Apparently it waters down the alcohol my lovely.”

“That sounds like Spikey,” I replied, “Did Rikky and Stripey trousers join you?”

“Of course!”

“How are they both?” I chuckled.

“Didn’t see Rikky as he was late as usual,” Fizz replied, “While Stripey was disgustingly cheerful and chipper.”

“I suspect her secret was a massive kebab on the way home.”

“Someone else who also has hollow legs,” replied Fizz, almost smiling.

“Come on,” I said, “Lets grab a flask of tea and a bottle of pop and crack on, at least there’s very little to prep on these,”

“Nothing at all for me,” she said, “Just check i’ve got my bag and the equipment and float are there, and that’s it.”

“Not much more for me,” I said, “Is it our boat, is it floating and does it have petrol.”

Getting to our boat was almost a guarantee that Fizz would get wet. All of the flower class were breasted up, and our one, Poppy, was furthest from the shore. I easily walked from boat to boat until I got to ours, behind me, I heard a ‘Splosh’ followed by swimming sounds.

“Go and get changed,” I said, watching Fizz drag herself onto the pontoon, “I’ll move the boat round to the pier while you do.”

Fizz splashed off, returning a few minutes later in dry trousers and one of her emergency T-Shirts, this one being supplied by Rikky, and reading “I wouldn’t drink it, I had an unexpected swim in it earlier.” It was a good job Fizz had a sense of humour, and I was sure she was just waiting to get her own back.

“Come on then,” I said, “We need to get down to Fremington.”

There were no passengers to take to Fremington this morning, there rarely were at this time in the morning, but during the day, the number 3 could get very busy in the summer, hence there being three boats on such a short route on summer days.

As there was a chill in the air this morning, and there were no passengers to deal with, Fizz lay on one of the benches and pulled a blanket, which I always kept handy, over herself.

“Comfortable over there?” I asked.

“Very, thank you,” she replied, “Where did you get this blanket from, it’s marvelous.”

“Mountain Warehouse in Bideford,” I replied, “It was in their sale a few weeks ago.”

“It’s so warm,”

“Well, try not to get it wet, or it will get very cold and unpleasant.”

“I’ll try not to take it into the water with me,” she said.

Before we had made it to the River Taw, I could here snoring from under the blanket. I decided it would be best to let her sleep for a while.

We got to Fremington, and there were three passengers to pick up, I shushed them, gesturing at Fizz’s sleeping form, and quietly taking their fares, before setting off for Isley Marsh and doing the same. We wouldn’t be busy this early and I was quite capable for working single handed on these little boats.

The passengers quietly tip-toed around the small, sleeping shape under a warm blanket, with a knowing smile. At this time of the morning, it was mainly locals, who knew Fizz very well, and had seen her in similar positions a few times now in her few short weeks.

Having done a full round trip, I went wide out across the River Taw to approach Fremington from the same direction as previous, this was my preferred approach anyway, but it had the pleasing effect that as Fizz woke up, we were where she had expected to be on the earlier trip.

“Ugh, sorry Olly,” she said, “I must have dropped off, that blanket is, argh! Where did the passengers come from?”

“Braunton,” I said, “Velator, and Isley Marsh I think.”

“At least you didn’t do the ‘a long time a go there was a mummy passenger and a daddy passenger’ joke this time.”

“That’s funny.”

“No it’s not,” Fizz snorted, “last time was such a graphic description that I’m still having nightmares about it!”

“Oh well,” I said, “Come on, there’s your ticket book and fares, you’d best get cracking.”

Fizz, now looking a little less hung over, got to work, first off getting ready to tie us up at Fremington. She took aim at the bollard, and missed, the rope dropping in the water.

I gave the engine a burst of reverse, and held the boat as still as I could while she pulled the rope out of the water and tried again. On the third attempt, she got it half over the bollard, pulled to hold us still, the rope slipped off, and she fell backwards into the boat.

“You aren’t having the best morning are you?” I laughed as she dusted herself down and finally dropped the rope neatly over the bollard, pulled us in tight, and rolled a couple of turns around our own bollard to hold us there while our small number of passengers got off and some more got on.

“You’ll be wanting to tie us up properly later,” I said, “Or you’ll ruin your hands, and remember to get some suncream on, or I’ll have Spikey on my case for not looking after you.”

“I will as soon as we cast off,” she replied, “I’ve got a few minutes to Isley Marsh.”

“Jolly good,” I said, “You know what she’s like.”

“She can be a bit of a mother hen,” Fizz replied.

I saw a couple of the local passengers wince at that comment.

“It’s ok,” I said, “I’ll not tell her. She’s like it because she cares about you.”

“I know,” replied Fizz, “Although she doesn’t seem to care much about my liver!”

“You can say no you know?”

“Have you ever tried it with Spikey?”

As we approached Caen Street later that day, Fizz got ready to fling the rope over a bollard in her usual style.

She threw, and went to test it without checking it was over the bollard.

“Erm Fizz,” I said, “That’s a passenger, for fuck’s sake don’t try to pull it tight, you’ll cut the poor bugger’s circulation off.”

The rope had actually landed on the passenger’s shoulder, but I would tell everyone later that it was round his neck. Luckily he took it in good humour, and removed the rope and helpfully dropped it over the bollard, allowing Fizz to pull us in tight.

“Do try not to kill the passengers,” I said, as she came to sit next to me having taken the fares.

“It’s tempting with some of them,” she replied.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Nothing, just venting after a few comments from idiots today,” she said, “I can take the ones taking the mickey for me being clumsy or cack handed but the ones that treat me just like a piece of meat are asking to go for a swim!”

“Do you want me to set Spikey on them?” I asked.

“Oh lord no,” she said, “Even they don’t deserve that, she’d eat them alive from the inside out.”

As we arrived at Fremington in the afternoon, ready for relief, I brought the boat neatly along side, Fizz, this time, instead of trying to throw the rope over the bollard, simply handed it to a passenger, who looked bemused, as she instructed the confused lady to drop the rope over the bollard because she kept missing. 

“I love the honesty,” said Max Lovejoy, who was waiting with his mate to relieve us.

“You can’t fault her for that,” I replied, “Come on you, there’s a number one coming, I’d like to get back to base.”

“Ooh, yes, me too,” replied Fizz brightly.

“I suspect the answer may be negative after your efforts with Spikey last night, but pub?”

“Oh, rather,” she said, “Yes. Absolutely.”

“Come on then,” I said, “Don’t get lead astray tonight.”

As we sailed into Barnstaple, I asked, “Have you got your clean gear with you?”

“No,” said Fizz, “I don’t want to get it wet if I fall in.”

“Good call,” I said, “Well, I’m going to jump off at Rolle Street and walk from here, can you book me off please?”

“Will do, see you in the exchange?”

“Will do,” I replied.

An hour or so later, Spikey and myself were propping up the bar in the exchange, when Fizz walked in wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with the slogan “Barnstaple impromptu swimmers club.”

“That’s one of your emergency T-shirts,” I said.

“It is,” she said, “Shut up.”

“It’s not the one you were wearing earlier.”

“I said shut up.”

“Didn’t you put some clean gear in your locker this morning my lovely?” asked Spikey.

“I did,” Fizz replied, “They are wet.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

“Was just walking out of the office, when I heard a shout, Stripey Trousers was trying to throw her line to me so I went to catch it.”

“Did Rikky have to make a sudden manoeuvre to avoid a splasher?” I asked

Spikey choked back a laugh as she had a mouth full of rum that she didn’t want to spray everywhere.

“I’’ll get you a drink sweetheart,” Spikey said, “I think you need one.”

“I do,” said Fizz, putting her head in her hands.

“Are you ok?” I asked.

“Just a little stressed,” she said, “My mum is visiting and my place is a tip. Shit, it’s not even actually mine, I rent it, it’s hardly what she had in mind for me is it.”

“Give it time,” I said, “You’ve been here a few weeks, you’ve fit straight in with us, and you aren’t the helpless little girl with sick in her hair now, and you are starting to earn yourself some decent cash.”

“Yeah, though what she’d call questionable means.”

“You seem to be enjoying it though.”

“I am,” she said, “But I’m not sure my mum would approve.”

“If you’ll take my advice darling,” said Spikey, “Take no notice of what your mum would approve of, mine didn’t approve of me giving up medicine, my sister is apparently the successful one of us, but yet at least once a month Wendy sends me a letter asking for a loan.”

“Why doesn’t she ask her bank?” asked Fizz

“Because the banks expect the money back,” I put in.

“I’d normally tell you to fuck off,” said Spikey, “But you are not far from the truth.”

“So what’s the worst that can happen?” I asked.

“Is Pirate here?” asked Fizz.

“That was a swift change of subject,” said Spikey, “No, he’s up in Ilfracombe tonight, I didn’t ask what he was doing, I don’t want to know. Why?”

“Well at least I’m spared him trying to impress my mum with his stories. Ah, she’s here.”

“Ah, Felicity, there you are,” said a lady who looked like a chunkier, 50 year old version of Fizz with horn rimmed glasses and dark hair.

“Mummy,” she said, “Nobody calls me Felicity, they all know me as Fizz.”

“Well I gave you the name Felicity,” she replied, “What sort of name is Fizz anyway, it makes you sound like a bottle of pop.”

“Well, that’s my name mummy,” she replied, “Anyway, these are my friends Olly and Spikey.”

“Now come on, what are their proper names?”

“Captain Ian Hollis,” I put in, “And this is Captain Doctor Holly Langston.”

“A captain and a Doctor?” Fizz’s mum asked.

“I gave up medicine for something more bohemian,” Spikey said, “But please call me Spikey.”

“Gave it up for a bottle of rum more like,” I whispered in Fizz’s ear, producing a fit of the giggles.

“Ah, so you do actually call yourselves that, well, I’m Mirriam Walker-Shelton,” she said, “Felicity’s mother.”

“Fizz,” I said, “Can I have a word?”

“Certainly skip, what’s up?”

We stepped to one side and I calmly put my hand on her shoulder.

“Fizz,” I said, “Have you forgotten something?”

“What?” she asked.

“Does the Pride of Reykjavik mean anything to you?”

“Yeah it’s that ship that we are……oh…..fuck!”

“Fizz, you made the arrangements!” I said.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck,” she replied.

“That’s got to be the most fuck’s i’ve had with my trousers on,” I said, “hang on, I think I know what to do.”

“What’s that?”

“Take her with us.”

“Are you mental?” asked Fizz.

“Probably, look at my friends,” I replied, “No it’s simple, we tell her we are taking her on a boat trip to see the area, get her drunk, then carry on with our trading. She does drink doesn’t she?”

“I should hope so, it looks like Spikey is getting part of your plan underway judging by whatever the hell that is.”

“Oh Christ,” I said, “Spikey, please don’t poison Fizz’s mum. Mrs Walker-Shelton, unfortunately we are working tonight, would you like to join Fizz and me for a moon light boat tour?”

“Well that sounds jolly good fun, what time?” she replied.

“We need to head off now,” I said.

“But….” started Fizz who was going to point out that our original plan had been to start an hour later.

I just shot her a look.

“I’ll see you later darlings,” said Spikey, “If you see Little Mike, tell him where I am, he was supposed to be joining me tonight,”

He wasn’t, I knew where Mike was, but Spikey was giving us a tactful way of getting away without Fizz’s mum trying to guilt trip us into staying, and I knew she’d head off as soon as we were out of sight, and head to my place for an evening with Polly, my kids and a bottle of something alcoholic.

“Which boat are we using?” asked Fizz.

“I’ve got Alice already sorted,” I said, “Full tank of diesel, everything all checked out, covered boat not ideal for sight seeing but at least we can lash stuff to the roof if we need to.”

The three of us made an odd sight, me in sailing gear, Fizz in her emergency T-shirt and her mother dressed up for a night out. I let myself into the office to get the keys, and we headed down to the key to get the boat. 

“If you head round to the pier,” I said, “I’ll go get the boat, don’t want you falling in the drink again.”

“Does she do that often?” asked her mother.

“Quite regularly Mrs Walker-Shelton,” I replied.

“Oh Felicity, you really should come and work for me.”

“Mummy,” replied Fizz, “I like what I’m doing, I’m happy, I don’t want an office job.”

“And we love her to bits,” I said over my shoulder, as I skipped across the boat roofs to reach Alice.

You’d be forgiven for thinking I had chosen Alice because she had the most fuel, or was the easiest to prep, or the fastest, but it was more simple, she was my favourite, and happened to be home at the time.

I bought the boat round to the pier, looped a rope around a bollard near the stern and kept the bow tucked in with a bow thruster while Fizz and her mum hopped aboard. I flicked the rope off the bollard, and turned us out into the channel.

I handed Fizz a radio, and said, “I’ve left fifty quid on Mike’s desk, feel free to get your mum some drinks.”

“Oh, I’ll pay you back, I promise, that’s rather a lot, erm…”

“No you won’t,” I said, “call it a gift, besides, hopefully tonight will prove profitable, you’ll find the gift we are taking out to them in the bar store room, don’t let your mum drink that!”

“Is it clearly marked?”

“It’s the only thing still in packing crates.”

“Ok, I’ll be fine. Which crate is mine?”

“The smaller one,” I said, “Although I feel you’ll be making more than me from it!”

“Be nice to out do the master of the art for once.”

“That,” I said, “Would be Big Mike, trust me, you need a day out with him some time.”

“You keep telling me,” she replied with a smile, “But I think you are doing yourself a disservice.”

“This is Ferry boat Alice calling Pride of Reykjavik,” I said, “Ferry boat Alice calling Pride of Reykjavik, are you receiving? Over.”

“Pride of Reykjavik receiving,” came a voice, “Is that you Olly?”

“It is indeed, that sounds like Brynjar?”

“The very same, where are you old friend?”

“Oi, less of the old,” I said, “You’ve got ten years on me, we are still on the river Taw at the moment, I assume you are just off south Wales?”

“Er, no, we have made good time since leaving Milford Haven, we are Mid Channel,” Brynjar replied, “We’ll rendezvous with you five nautical miles east of Lundy at approximately 22.00 hours.”

“Understood,” I said, “22.00 hours five miles east of Lundy.”

“That’s right,” he replied, “When you contact us, if it’s not me on the radio, just ask for me, the crew tonight are friendly to our cause.”

“Brilliant,” I said, “See you later, out.”

I was enjoying the feeling of the cool summer night in the wheelhouse, on my own for a few minutes, with the setting sun ahead of us.

“Fizz,” I called.

“What’s up skip?” she replied, from the bottom of the stairwell.

“I was just thinking, as this is a private trip, why don’t you get yourself and your mum a drink and come up here for a better view of the sunset?”

“Ooh, would that be alright?” she asked,

“Of course,” I said, “It’s a better view.”

“Do you want anything?”

“Hot chocolate please,” I replied.

“Anything in it?” she asked.

“A good slug of rum please,” I replied, “And squirty cream on top.”

“Coming right up.” 

The two of them joined me in the wheel house, and Fizz was doing a fantastic job of pointing out the local landmarks as we headed out to sea. 

As darkness fell, the sun was setting directly over Lundy, lighting it up beautifully.

“That,” I said, “Is Lundy island, once home to innumerable pirates, and now home to about eighty five million puffins. In 1627 it was taken by a group of Barbary pirates by the name of the Salé Rovers under Captain Jan Janszoon Van Haerlem. They held it for five years, hiding in it’s rocky coves and conducting raids there on ships forced by the tidal currents of the Bristol channel.”

I steered us into Landing Bay, and continued my story.

“Before the lighthouses were built, they would hide behind the rocks beyond the headland by day, or in this bay by night,” As I said this, I slowly circled the boat around, as Fizz handed her mother another what I hoped would be fairly strong cocktail, “And they would look out for any lights given out by ships, such as that one over there, you see it?”

“Yes,” Fizz’s mum replied.

“Now, if they were around today, that’s exactly the sort of ship they would be interesting,” I said, “that’s a freighter, or in modern terms a container ship, called The Pride of Reykjavik, lets go and have a look at her.”

Now the boat was facing the right way, I opened the throttle and headed towards a point a little way ahead of the light.

As we headed towards the light, Fizz made sure to ensure her mum was well plied with drinks. I picked up the radio again.

“Ferry boat Alice to Pride of Reykjavik,” I said, “Can you hear me Pride of Reykjavik?”

“Receiving you loud and clear Olly,” came the reply, “Brynjar here, I’m guessing you’d like to come along side?”

“Yes please Brynjar,” I replied.

“Ok,” he said, “give us a little space, turn to port then come along side our port side.”

They were currently off to our starboard side, and we would be doing a 200 degree turn taking us away from them so we wouldn’t accidentally turn into them and ram them.

Fizz’s mum could barely believe what was happening as we tied up along side the container ship. I think I had drawn her in so much that she thought she was involved in a pirate raid, and I was rather glad not to have Simon along for the ride, as I’m sure by now he would have pulled out a cutlass. 

We tied tied up along side and the crew dropped down a steep gang plank. We carried the two packing cases up onto the ship, 

“Well,” said Brynjar, “What have you got for me here?”

I opened my box.

“It’s the English beer you requested,” I said, “Always glad to help quench the thirst of fellow seamen.”

“It looks good Olly, how much do you want?”

I knew how much beer cost in Iceland, It was very expensive, and being foreign beer, and from local breweries, I could add a bit on.

“Give us three hundred quid,” I said.

“Three hundred? Make it two hundred, and I’ll buy it.”

“Two fifty,” I said.

“Done, what have we here?”

Fizz opened her crate, and Brynjar looked at the bottles inside. 

“May I have a taste?” he said, seemingly in awe.

“Of course,” said Fizz pulling the stopper out of one of the bottles, and pouring some into a glass.

They negotiated an impressive price, than we looked at what we had for sale.

“So how much for the Lappolina?” I asked.

“Well thats genuine Finnish,” Brynjar said, “puts the price up a bit, give me the beer and another two hundred pounds and it’s yours.”

“Sounds reasonable,” I said.

Fizz, for her part, negotiated for a crate of Reyka Vodka, and naturally being Fizz, a huge selection of sweets, in this case, twenty boxes Lindu Rís Buff, half a dozen boxes of Hraun, and half a dozen of Nóa Kropp.

“You’ll get fat you know,” I said.

“No fear how hard you work me,” she said, “Anyway, it’s not all for me!”

“You going to sell some of it?” I asked.

“Well I was thinking a lot for presents for people,” she said, “But I was thinking of selling a ton of it to Stripey Trousers, have you seen the size of her belly?”

“A bit unfair,” I said, “Ok she’s broader than you but hardly huge.”

“No, I know,” said Fizz, “She’s rock solid underneath, but she takes some filling!”

As we were about to leave, I spotted something,

“Here, Brynjar, whats that?” I asked.

“Oh you don’t want that Olly,” he said, “That’s far too expensive for your regular customers, that’s Brenninvín, and not only that, it is a very special Brenninvín, we are taking it to Saudi, we will get about equivalent of,” he thought, doing the maths in his head, “Two hundred and fifty pounds per bottle. 

“Will you do me four bottles for £800?” I asked. 

“Who will you sell it to?”

“I’ll make that back off the Lappolina,” I said, “This is to solve a couple of issues, and maybe sell a couple if I have spares.”

“What sort of problems?”

“Fizz’s mum is on the boat!” 

“So you have a passenger on board?” he stammered.

“Yup,” I said, “Fizz double booked herself.”

“But even if she doesn’t report you, she’s uninsured, Big Mike will have you fired if he finds out.”

“Yup,” I said, “I’ll need to smooth it over with him.”

“And if you loose your job your missus will do her nut!”

“Yup,” I said, “Bottle number three.”

“And what is bottle number four for?” he asked.

“In case the first three fail,” I said, “Do you still have that awful cider that you all refuse to drink?”

“Yes,” he said, “I’ll sell you five bottles of the Brenninvín for £900 if you take a crate of that stuff away.”

“How many crates have you got?”

“I can possibly get you ten.”

“Ten crates and the five bottles of Brenninvín for a grand?” I said.

“You drive a hard bargain,” he said, “I don’t know what you will do with that, do you have a lot of fences that need creosoteing?” 

“No, but I can off load it onto Big Mike who will sell it to the passengers,” I replied.

“So it he doesn’t sack you, you will sell him some undrinkable filth to poison your passengers with?” Brynjar laughed.

“Pretty much,” I said.

“You have balls of iron Olly,” he said, “Balls of iron.”

We loaded our purchases onto Alice, much to the interest of Fizz’s mum.

“What’s all that?” she asked.

“Mainly alcohol,” I said, “And at least twice Fizz’s bodyweight in Icelandic chocolate.”

“What are you doing with it?” she asked.

“Smuggling,” I replied,

She was obviously pretty drunk by now, going “Pffft” and waving my comment away.

“Shit,” said Fizz as we cast off from the container ship, “Do you think we will pull this off?”

“How drunk she is,” I said, “We have pulled it off. Do you want to put that money somewhere safe? You don’t want to loose it when we get to Hunters cove.”

“Good point,” she said, “Where were you thinking.”

“The tool box in the wheel house that your mother is currently sitting on,” I replied, “You should have a key to it on your bunch, the one thats not the bar, store cupboard or locker.”

“Excellent,” she said, “Mummy, could you move a second please?”

“What are you putting in there?” Miriam asked.

“The money I made from selling some illegal alcohol to the crew of that ship,” Fizz replied.

Her mother’s eyes opened wide when she saw it.

“How much is there?” she asked.

“About a thousand quid,” said Fizz, “Plus the Reyka and the sweets, which cost me five hundred, but I’ll make at least a grand profit when I sell it.”

Miriam waved it away again, but a little less convincingly this time.

“Come on,” I said, “One more place to show you before I have to take the boat back.”

Of course, we were heading towards Croyde bay and Hunters cove, and while we were doing so, I got Fizz to allow her mother to sample some of the Brenninvín.

“That’s good,” she said, “Interesting but good, where did you get that from?”

“Out of that box,” said Fizz, innocently.

“Yes Felicity,” said her mother, “But where did you get the box from?”

“It’s mine,” I said, “Traded it with the crew of that cargo ship, nice isn’t it? They are going to take a load more into Saudi Arabia, where of course, you know, alcohol is illegal, and sell it to a couple of wealthy oil sheiks for about £250 a bottle, or near enough.”

“That’s expensive and risky,” Miriam replied, “Can’t you be beheaded for having alcohol in Saudi?”

“Wonderful though that story is,” I said, “Jailed and fined, that is all, no beheadings, but unless you are a non-muslim diplomat, then it’s very much frowned upon.”

“I’m guessing these oil sheiks aren’t non-muslim diplomats?”

“They are neither,” I replied, “Proof of the moral compass of certain wealthy people.”

“Now we met in the pub, and you’ve drunk rum while we’ve been out, Miriam protested, “You can’t condemn drinking alcohol!”

“Absolutely not,” I replied, “but I’m not muslim, their religion prohibits it, now, does that mean they don’t truly believe their claimed religion? Or that they believe themselves to be above their god?”

“Thats a very insightful point of view.”

“I’m not just an uneducated sailor,” I replied, “Oh, here we are, Croyde bay.”

“What’s here?”

“You’ll see.”

I swung the boat into Hunters cove and Fizz tied us up at both ends, while I wiggled the bench top free, and turned it over to the treaded side.

“Why are we here?” asked Miriam.

“Just need to drop a few things off,” I replied.

“Not the chocolate?”

“No, I think we can safely take that home,” I said, “Not sure the revenue are that worried about Chocolate smugglers.”

We removed most of the alcohol except for the Brenninvín, and stacked it neatly on our respective sides. We turned round and spotted a shadow in our torch light.

“Mummy, what are you doing off the boat?” asked Fizz.

“What’s this place?” she asked.

“It’s a cave in Hunters Cove,” Fizz replied, “The only way you can get in is by sea.”

“Why is it full of bottles?” she asked, “Oh wow, you weren’t joking when you said you were smuggling!”

“Not really smuggling,” said Fizz, “Just helping the alcohol to get the produce around the revenue.”

“Wow, no wonder you don’t want an office job,” Miriam said, “this is so much more exciting.”

“I certainly can’t see me wanting to give this life up to do some filing mummy,” she replied, “Especially not with all this chocolate.”

“Yes, Fizz is hoping all this dashing around with heavy boxes will prevent her from being 30 stone by christmas.”

“Yes, he works me hard to work off the chocolate and the bacon sarnies,” she replied, “Come on, I’m done.”

“That’s because you plan to eat most of your haul,” I said.

“Told you, I’m selling it all to Pam, it’ll be gone in a week!”

We got back on the boat and headed for home.

As we swung into the river Taw, a light came on on the console.
“Bugger,” I said, “Fizz, come and take the wheel a minute.”

“Me?” she squeaked.

“It’s simple,” I said, “A little like driving a car, but slower responding, you see that flashing light over there?”

“The one doing those flashes then vanishing?”

“That’s the one,” I said, “Aim straight for it, keep your eye over your left shoulder, when you see another one flashing three times in quick succession, turn towards it. We aren’t going’t very fast at the moment, just keep the engine slow ahead until you make that turn.”

I nipped into the engine room and had a little look around. 

“Ah, that’s it,” I said, the bilge pump had stopped working, I turned it off, counted to three, and turned it back on, something had caused it to overload and cut out.

“Just what I need,” I thought, then swelled with a little pride as I felt the boat turn to port in a gentle, sweeping turn. I waited in the engine room for a minute or two more until I felt the boat straighten up, before heading back to the wheel house.

“You are doing a good job,” I said, “The bilge pump had tripped out, I’ll leave a note to get Spanners to look at it in the morning.”

“You better have the wheel back then,” said Fizz.

“No,” I said, “I was going to make the three of us a drink,” I heard snoring, “The two of us a drink,” I corrected, “Hot chocolate.”

“Love one,” replied Fizz.

“Rum?”

“And Squirty cream,” she replied, “Actually, I think there is a bag of marshmallows under the counter.”

I made the drinks and then let Fizz keep the wheel as she steered us up the river, only taking over when we got near town, I didn’t think she was quite ready for the more challenging reach up to Pilton.

I Pulled up along side the pier, and we tied up. Fizz got a sack truck to put her chocolate onto, and I helped her unload, while pouring her very drunk mother onto the quayside. 

“You liked that drink I gave you then?” I asked.

“It was the most exquisite drink I’ve ever had,” she replied.

“Well, I can’t sell this one,” I said, “Here, take it.”

Fizz smiled as I handed her the Benninvín.

“You going to be long?” she asked.

“Two minutes,” I replied, “Just got to leave something to appease Mike and write a note about the bilge pump.”

I shot into the office, hung up the keys, placed a bottle of Brenninvín on Mike’s desk, and wrote a note.
“Took Alice for a little test run last night, there’s an intermittent fault on the bilge pump, keeps cutting out, can you get Spanners to have a look at it. Hope this rather expensive bottle covers the cost of the diesel. Olly.”

I locked up, taking my remaining bottles with me to meet up with Fizz and her mum.

“I’ve got to get this one home now,” said Fizz, “Look at the state you’ve got her in!”

“I seem to remember you plied her with a lot of drinks,” I replied.

“That’s true, see you in the morning,” she said.

As I headed for home, I heard a “Spolsh” followed by swimming sounds.

“Oh god not again,” I said, “Fizz, are you ok?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said, appearing next to me, “But we need to get my mother one of my emergency t-shirts.”

I looked at Fizz, then at the figure of her mother flailing around in the water.

“Come on,” I said grabbing the life ring, “Let’s get her out, honestly, this must me the most well used life ring in the history of the West Country, seemingly by the same family.”

“Just shut up and hold the rope,” said Fizz, throwing the ring, and true to her usual style, bouncing it off her mum’s head.

“I think the plan is to rescue her,” I said, “Not kill her. Grab the rope Miriam, that’s it.”

We pulled her ashore, and dragged her from the water.

“You got a spare T-shirt in your locker?” I asked.

“She’s bigger than me,” replied Fizz, “It wouldn’t fit, have to get her home I suppose.”

“Mine’s closer, come on, meet Polly and the boys,” I said, “You could probably sell all of that chocolate to Polly in one go! You can sleep in our spare room.”

“Go on then,” she replied, “It’ll be nice to meet your family at last. Would Polly’s stuff fit my mum?”

“Not a chance, she could use it as a bed sheet,” I said, “but the boys might have something that will do until until morning.”

“Aren’t your boys pretty big?” asked Fizz.

“Tall,” I said, “Yes, both over six foot, but your stuff won’t fit and Polly’s would drown her. Come on.”

“I think,” slurred Miriam, “I understand why you like this job Felici…felic…Fizz, and I your friends are all crazy but marvelous, I am glad you are happy.”

“Thankyou mummy,” she said, “I’ll hold you to that when you are sober.”

“Think we won her over?” I asked.

“Won her over?” replied Fizz, “She’s halfway to being a Privateer herself!”