Free Lifeboat! by Margaret Dickinson Page A

Sea.

Chapter Seven
    ‘Dad, you remember Howard?’
    Her father was looking tired, Julie could see, but to her relief he held
     out his hand towards her young man and smiled. ‘Glad to see you again,
     Howard.’
    ‘And you, sir.’
    As they sat down to their meal, Howard said, ‘Would you care for a glass
     of champagne, sir?’
    Macready looked up to see the good-looking young man holding a green
     glass bottle. He glanced at Julie and saw the blush of embarrassment
     creeping up her neck.
    Smiling inwardly, but keeping his face straight, Macready said, ‘Thank
     you, that would be very nice,’ and pushed his glass forward.
    Of course it went with the Ferrari and the brand-new sailing-dinghy
     standing in the driveway, he could see that, but Macready had only ever
     bought champagne twice in his life—for his wedding and at the birth of his
     daughter.
    Attempting conversation, Howard Marshall-Smythe asked, ‘Was it a
     successful rescue, sir?’
    Macready sighed wearily. ‘ Och, it was one of those times when it leaves
     a bad taste in the mouth. The rescue itself was successful—one laddie
     looks in pretty bad shape though. The helicopter took him to hospital.’
    ‘Oh I say, you have a helicopter here as well, do you?’ Howard
     Marshall-Smythe seemed for a moment impressed.
    ‘Not here, no,’ Macready replied. ‘We call in the R.A. F air/sea rescue
     helicopter from a base in Norfolk.’
    ‘Oh.’ There was an expressive pause as Howard added, ‘ I see.’
    The silence, whilst they ate, was a little uncomfortable and was not
     improved by Howard’s next remark. ‘And you’re employed on a full-time
     basis as coxswain, are you, sir?’ Howard laughed as he added, ‘It sounds
     just the sort of job that would suit me. One or two rescues a week and the
     rest of the time free.’
    Macready said nothing. Normally he would not have allowed anyone to
     escape with such a loaded remark, but this young man was a guest in his
     house, Julie’s guest, and one glance at his daughter’s face told him that
     she was already suffering agonies of embarrassment, knowing as she did how
     Howard’s tactlessness would anger Macready.
    It was not so much anger that Macready felt towards this young man and
     his like, as an incredulity and a kind of sadness that anyone could be so
     ignorant of the true nature of the lifeboat service of his country. A
     service which at any time Howard, or his family, might have to call upon.
    The care and attention that Macready lavished on the Mary Martha Clamp ,
     on its mechanical and electrical equipment and on the tractor and even the
     boathouse too, was almost a full-time occupation in itself. Engines and
     motors could not be left to chance. It was vital they started first time, every time. All the life-saving equipment, ropes, pulleys,
     life-jackets, the breeches-buoy, flares, first-aid supplies and
     equipment—all had to be in perfect condition at all times.
    The coxswain was in daily, almost hourly, contact with his local
     coastguard, with the Coastal Rescue Headquarters at Breymouth and with
     Bill Luthwaite, the local honorary secretary of the lifeboat, to say
     nothing of the publicity side of his work. Because the Royal National
     Lifeboat institution was a voluntary organisation, existing only from
     funds raised from the public, the lifeboat station was open daily
     throughout the summer and literally thousands of people would climb the
     wooden steps to look over the Mary Martha Clamp . Though they were
     not allowed on board, they had a good view of the inner workings of the
     boat and Coxswain Macready was nearly always on hand to answer their
     hundred and one questions.
    There was speech-making, lectures and film shows to give all the year
     round and throughout it all Macready was on call twenty-four hours a day.
     At any time, day or night, he could be called out on a service. Never,
     ever, was there a time in the day when Bill Luthwaite did not know