Free A Ship's Tale by N. Jay Young Page B

presence is no longer required.”
    I shook him off with considerable force, protesting that I knew these men and had heard about their work with the boys.
    O’Connell scoffed, “That does not surprise me in the least, nevertheless it is absolutely none of your affair. These two teach a class in seamanship every week, though it will never be of use in the modern world. I consider it no more than history instruction. Those crude, vulgar sailormen cause quite enough disruption on their own without the further intrusion of common and ill-mannered strangers.”
    I moved closer and he, seeing the look in my eyes, stepped back involuntarily as my blood began to boil. “Mr. O’Connell,” I said as evenly as I could manage, “it is my best guess that those crude vulgar sailormen have done a good deal more to better the lot of your boys than you could possibly understand. And I am also sure those crude, vulgar sailormen have helped keep a bit of the cold out of this place. I’m willing to wager that much of the coal you use comes from the wrecked coal barge down there,” and I pointed to the masts of the old ships, just visible at the bottom of the hill.
    â€œNonetheless, I must ask you to leave,” he said. This was pronounced with such a starchy presumption of authority that words are not adequate to describe just how utterly obnoxious it sounded. I had had enough of this nasty little man. I began to feel impulses of a distinctly common and ill-mannered nature coming over me.
    â€œHeadmaster O’Connell,” I said firmly, “have you ever had your nose broken?” I clenched my fist in anticipation. Just then, the heavy wooden gate was thrown open with such force that I was robbed of my opportunity. The black-suited figure was swept neatly away behind the great panel, which slammed back against the wall. Out walked Harris.
    â€œFlynn!” he said in surprise, “what brings you up here?” There came a thud, and then a crash from behind the gate. Before I could answer, the door was pushed back and a distinctly damaged headmaster struggled into view, holding his nose.
    â€œFor pity’s sake man, you shouldn’t stand behind that gate!” cried Harris. Then he looked back at me with a twinkle. “Well, I see you’ve met Headmaster Mr. O’Connell.”
    â€œQuite,” I answered. I looked on happily and much gratified as that thoroughly distasteful personage tottered wordlessly towards the stairs, still gingerly cradling his nose.
    â€œCome along,” Harris whispered, “let’s have a chat.” He put his huge hand on my shoulder and directed me towards a path round the outside of the courtyard wall. “Sorry there, O’Connell,” he called back, “I’d put some ice on that.” He turned back to me. “Or pack it in horse dung,” he added softly.
    I began to laugh. “Hush now,” he cautioned, “I know he’s bloody irritating and he’s a right mardy-arse, but we need him for a bit.”
    â€œGood heavens,” I said in dismay, “don’t tell me he’s with us!”
    â€œOh no!” he laughed. “That chap’s about as useful as tits on a worm. You see we’ve been training these lads in the art of seamanship.”
    A light dawned. “So they can act as a crew?” I exclaimed.
    â€œQuite right,” he replied. “The only ones at home in the rigging are Boris and myself. Boris is an expert, the best I’ve seen. But we need nimble lads who can go aloft to set and reef the sails, and walk the capstans to brace the yards. This lot is lean, but they’re tough, and stronger than they look. We’ve been supplying them with as much extra food as we can find.”
    â€œUp in the rigging is a hard proving ground. Are you sure they’re capable, and understand the dangers?” I asked.
    â€œWe’ve been training them for six