Again Graham did not dispute that. Images of the British cruisers in the movie told him only too clearly that Max was right and also suggested where the idea for it had come from. Why didn’t I think of that? he thought.
“What about another game?” Max asked.
“OK,” Graham agreed. “But only if I can hide my ships before you come sailing out, and you aren’t allowed to walk around looking for them. Pretend it was night and the sun is just coming up.”
“What about radar?” Max asked. “I would know where they had gone.”
“This is before radar was invented,” Graham replied firmly.
Max agreed to this and took his cruiser off behind the laundry while Graham hid his ships. While he was doing this Cindy arrived home. She had been to her regular Saturday afternoon netball match. Graham was kneeling near the laundry door moving his 4” gunboat when she walked out of the back door. He looked up as she greeted him cheerfully.
“Are these your models?” she asked in a friendly way. “Yes,” Graham replied, eyeing her short sports dress and her long and shapely legs with interest. He explained the game and Cindy nodded, then went into the laundry. To Graham’s surprise she stood there and peeled off her netball uniform and threw it into the washing machine. That left her just wearing her underwear. Graham was embarrassed and did not know where to look when she walked back out. She seemed to think nothing of this and went off into the bathroom.
By then Max was getting impatient and called out. Graham assured him he was ready and the battle was resumed. This time it was hot and furious and close range. The destroyer managed to torpedo the cruiser and halve its speed, but not sink it; and the 6” gunboat knocked out two turrets before being sunk.
As the game went on, Cindy came out of the bathroom after having had a shower. She stood in the back doorway to watch them while she dried her hair. Graham was astounded to see that she wore only a towel wrapped around her; and that this did not quite cover her at either top or bottom! He goggled and looked away, then peeked again, flushing hot with embarrassment and desire.
Cindy then turned and walked off to her room. As she went along the short corridor away from him Graham glanced after her and was rewarded with a glimpse of the bottom of her buttocks. The sight made him become instantly aroused. The surge of desire was so strong it amazed him and he was disturbed at how his body reacted.
After the battle was over Cindy came out, dressed in skirt and top, to call the two boys in for afternoon tea. Both had had enough by then and were happy to go inside for cordial and pumpkin scones with honey. Cindy sat with them and her nearness caused him to become quickly aroused.
To take his mind off her, Graham turned the conversation back to model ships. “I enjoyed that Max. Will we have another battle some other day?”
“Yes, if you like. What about tomorrow?”
Graham made a face. “Sorry. Not tomorrow. We have church in the morning, and after lunch we will be going down to the wharf to meet dad. He is due back then,” he replied. His father had been on a voyage around to Normanton and had been away a month. In reality, Graham wasn’t really looking forward to his father coming back. He respected his dad enormously, and was very proud of him, but he was also somewhat afraid of him. Graham saw his father as a hard man: hard working and strict, with little time for his youngest son’s romantic notions. Love was not a word that sprang to mind to describe the relationship.
At 4pm Graham walked home carrying his models in the carton. All the way his thoughts alternated between images of Cindy wearing only a towel and the notion that he needed a cruiser to beat Max. As soon as he got there he rushed to the off-cuts box and rummaged through it.
“Ah! I thought I saw a piece the right size!” he said. He lifted out a length of soft pine half a metre long, 6cm wide and 3cm thick. It was almost the same dimensions as Max’s cruiser. Anxious to have the model ready when they next met he carried the piece of wood upstairs and sat at his desk to draw sketch plans which he then pencilled onto the piece of timber.
As Graham worked on this his eye caught the partly completed destroyer. He picked up the hull and examined it, then placed it aside. No. I will build a cruiser to match Max’s first. Then I will finish the destroyer, he decided. But another model destroyer seemed like a good idea.
After tea he went downstairs and hacked and rasped at the block of pine until a bow and stern had taken shape and it had been rasped and sanded so that it looked like a ship’s hull. That was all he got done that night but he went to bed fired with plans to build more ships after flicking through the pages of several books showing photos of cruisers.
***
Sunday church was a bit of an ordeal for Graham. He and Roger were rostered as alter boys. In the past, Graham had been proud to do this, but this time he felt very self-conscious in his vestments. The reason was his awareness of Cindy in the congregation. Max rarely came to church, but Cindy often did. Graham was now hotly tormented by memories of her wearing nothing but a towel. He became very aroused and this led to a surge of guilt and embarrassment. Thank heavens the vestments hide it! he thought.
Then guilt assailed him and he prayed earnestly to be forgiven for having such lascivious thoughts in God’s House. When he recited the bit about ‘the sinful desires of the flesh’ he felt quite uneasy.
After church Graham had to hurry home, so had no time to visit Roger’s to study his plans for the projected model railway. Morning tea and a change of clothes and the family piled into the car and drove to the wharf at Portsmith. Mrs Kirk had been in contact with the Captain Kirk’s ship Malita, by radio, so knew his expected time of arrival.
While waiting for the ship Graham sauntered along to the dry dock and peered through the fence at a naval Patrol Boat which was in for repairs. The sights, sounds and smells of the place were wonderful to his nostrils. Hungrily he watched a young sub lieutenant giving instructions to a rating before vanishing through a doorway. That’ll be me in a few years time, Graham told himself.
The toot of a ship’s siren sounded from the entrance to Smiths Creek. Graham ran out to the end of a jetty to look. Yes. It was his dad’s ship. The Malita was a 250 ton coaster with a raised focsle, well deck and raised poop. The superstructure was on the poop, cabins and galley on the poop deck level and the wheelhouse and boats on the next deck up. A blue painted funnel was positioned behind the wheelhouse. At the break of the focsle was a sturdy mast and derrick for cargo handling. The hull was painted black with red boot topping, but she looked the worse for wear, with paint flaked off and streaks of rust in places.
The little ship came steadily up the deep mangrove inlet, her bows cleaving the murky green water. Graham could see his father on the bridge beside the man at the wheel. He waved and started running back to the wharf. His father didn’t wave back but Alan Marshal, the Mate, did.
By the time Graham had reached the wharf the ship had turned, nosed in, and the first mooring line had been heaved ashore. Alex took it and placed it over a bollard. The ship was then eased in and Graham took the stern line when it was thrown onto the wharf. The thick, bristly rope hurt his hands and it was heavy but he struggled with it till he had dragged it back to the nominated bollard and placed it securely over it. The gangway was then lifted into position by Freddy the Engineer and old Carl the Cook.
The kids rushed aboard, followed by Mrs Kirk. They greeted the crew and went scampering up to the bridge. Their father greeted them there, Kylie with a kiss and a hug, and the two boys with a gruff handshake. As always when going on board Graham was struck by the smells: the tang of salt, reek of diesel, paint and grease and the odd, musty odours.
For a time he stood in the wheelhouse and fingered the wheel and engine controls. His father’s binoculars caught his eye and he hung them around his neck and went out onto the wing of the bridge. For 10 minutes he studied the shipping tied up along the creek and imagined himself as a captain. Then he was ashamed of himself because he wished to be the captai
n of a smart new warship, not a grubby old coaster. He did not want to admit that he secretly felt the Malita to be an inferior vessel.
After about an hour the family drove home. Once there Graham’s father did exactly what Graham had thought he would: had a shower and lay down to sleep. Apparently he and the mate had been on ‘watch and watch’ for the last five days and he was worn out.
As it was only mid-afternoon Graham toyed with going to Max’s but his mother vetoed this. Instead he sat down at his desk and set to work on his new model cruiser. A length of pine was glued on to make up the main part of the superstructure. Another block was added for the bridge structure and a smaller one aft for the secondary control position.
Cardboard was cut and rolled to make three large funnels, similar to those on the County-class heavy cruisers of the 1930s. This decision was prompted by a photo of the 2nd HMAS Australia in an encyclopaedia. Then an image floated into his mind from the movie Battle of the River Plate. The HMS Cumberland had three funnels too, he thought. Then more recent memories caused him to pucker his lips in sourness: the frigate HMS Cumberland berthing at the wharf and Joany kissing the British sailor.
Graham shook his head and tried to tell himself it hadn’t hurt. Then he concentrated on the model. The funnels were glued in place. She needs secondary armament, he thought, remembering Max’s cruiser firing hers.
So a secondary armament of six 4” guns was added to each side in semi-circular cardboard barbettes, the gun barrels being pieces of cylindrical balsa wood about 3cm long. That idea came from another old photo. The effect was very pleasing to Graham and he was even more content when he added four anti-aircraft guns in circular tubs, six balsa boats and a variety of lockers and boxes. Now the main armament, Graham thought. Max’s cruiser had 6” guns but both the Australia and Cumberland had eight 8”. Will I give her 8” guns? he wondered.
For a minute or so he studied the model and only then did he realise that he had miscalculated—and badly. I haven’t left any room at the front for two main armament turrets! he thought. As the realization of his mistake swept over him he felt hot shame and then a searing flash of anger at himself. For a minute or so he contemplated throwing the model in the bin and starting again. But then the sobering realization that there was possibly no other piece of timber of a suitable size to make another hull stopped him. I will have to try to fix this one up. Oh, what a bloody fool I am! I should have drawn some plans and measured things better, he told himself. So he decided to salvage what he could from the disaster.
There is room for one turret at the front but the only place I can fit a third turret is aft, he thought unhappily. That will mean one gun turret forward and two aft. They will all tease me and say my ship is too scared to fight and is built for running away!
For a time he contemplated tearing off all the bridge works and funnels but then simply gave up. Feeling depressed and angry he got up and went off to find something else to do. His mother saw him moping around and called on him to help her in the garden. He wasn’t interested but did so.
Dinner that night was a bit of a trial. Graham had not been looking forward to it because whenever his father was home he questioned them in detail on their doings in his absence; and particularly about their performance and behaviour at school. When the time came Graham gave what he hoped were satisfactory answers and was relieved to escape from the table, even if it was only to the washing up.
Later that evening he reluctantly sat down to do some homework. While he worked he eyed the half finished cruiser and wondered what to do with it. He also picked up the hull of the destroyer and studied that. When he had done enough time at his homework to satisfy his father he set to work on the destroyer.
This time he was more careful to measure where things were to fit on the deck and marked them carefully with a pencil. Construction then proceed: a block of wood for the main superstructure and a smaller one on top for the bridge; a block aft for the superstructure there, then a cardboard funnel, raked back and with a black cap to it. Two gun turrets with twin 4.5” guns were added to the front, one superimposed behind the other; and a third to the stern.
To plan this ship Graham had a photo in a book and also a war comic with an N-class ship of the 1940s which very much took his fancy. He went to bed considerably happier, with the destroyer half completed.
Chapter 12
ANOTHER SURPRISE
School the next week was average for Graham. He sat in class and admired Thelma and wondered how he could impress her enough to agree to go out with him. He drew ships on his notebook. At lunch time he eyed Thelma from afar, talked to his friends, or looked at pictures of ships in the library. And he got into trouble.
He and Stephen began playing a game of Battleships of the simple kind where each ruled up a page of their notebook into a grid with numbers along the top and letters down the side; then distributed their ships without the other seeing where they were marked on the page. While hiding their own page from the other player they took turns at calling a map reference to a particular square. If there was an enemy ship in that square on the other player’s map then it was hit and sunk.
Inevitably the two boys became engrossed in their game and this attracted the attention of Old Wily. The writing of lines resulted. Undeterred the two boys started another game the next day, this time being more careful not to be observed. Once again caution slipped as the battle developed. Graham sank Stephen’s battleship and was chortling with excitement when he realized Old Wily was standing beside him. Lunchtime detention and extra work resulted.
Bewailing the fact that he would not be able to talk to Thelma, Graham sat beside Stephen in the classroom and wrote out a page of the textbook. All the while he sulked and felt rebellious and resentful.
As the boys worked, their Geography and History teacher, Mr Conkey, appeared in the doorway. Graham liked Mr Conkey, who was a chubby and cheerful man, and whose main claim to fame, in Graham’s eyes, was that he was the captain of the school’s army cadet unit.
“What are you two in trouble for?” Mr Conkey asked.
“Playing Battleships sir,” Graham replied.
“Battleships eh? Show me.”
Graham opened his pad at the page where the splotches of the half finished battle showed. Mr Conkey nodded. “Yes, that is one way to play it, but there are better ways.”
“How is that sir?” Graham asked, his interest dissolving his surliness.
“You need three players,” Mr Conkey explained. “You draw two large grid maps with identical numbers and each player puts their fleet on one half of it. You need to agree beforehand on things like how many squares you can see, how many squares each ship type can move, and how far they can fire. You arrange it so that the two maps are side by side but with a divider or screen so that the players cannot see each other’s fleet.”
So far the game sounded the same as what they had been playing so Graham asked: “What does the third player do sir?”
“He is the ‘Adjudicator’. Both sides move at the same time. They can rub out where they marked a ship and redraw it in another square. The adjudicator then looks at both maps and checks what each player can see. If ships can see each other he marks them on the other map with a letter, like ‘B’ for battleship. Then both sides fire if they are in range, using a dice to decide if ships are hit or damaged.”
This sounded much more interesting to Graham. This is a better idea. The ships can be moved, he thought.
Mr Conkey went on: “There are two good things about this form of the game. Firstly, it introduces some sort of tactics and does away with much of the pot luck of the simple version. Secondly, you get that thrill of not knowing what the enemy has got, or where it is, until it appears.”
“Did you play that way sir?” Stephen asked.
Mr Conkey nodded. “Yes. When I was at university we had a little group that would battle for hours. We developed a fairly complex set of rules I remember.”
“Ha
ve you still got them sir? Could we see them?” Graham asked.
“They will be at home in the storeroom somewhere,” Mr Conkey replied. “I will have a look. But only if you promise me you won’t play it in class time.”
“Yes sir. Please sir,” Graham answered. The game sounded interesting and he badly wanted to see it.
For him the rest of the day went well. After school he stopped in at Roger’s and studied Roger’s plans for the model railway. Afternoon tea was offered and after that Graham walked home and set to work on his model destroyer. A set of four torpedo tubes was added behind the funnel, two racks of depth charges on the stern, and two anti-aircraft guns on sponsons out from the superstructure. He supported these with two uprights and two diagonals made of thin wire which were glued in place and was very pleased with the result.
While he worked the problem of a name nagged at him so he hauled out several books and leafed through them. At last one appealed to him; a World War 2 British destroyer named HMS Grenade. Happy with that he went back to work on small details before he was called to tea.
With his father home Graham had to spend two hours in the evening doing homework, so did not get back to the model until just before bedtime. Even so he was very pleased with it, the pleasure increased when his father came out to his room and looked at the model.
Capt Kirk studied it then said, “Making a destroyer, eh son? She looks pretty good. What’s her name?”
“HMS Grenade Dad. She is a World War 2 ship.”
“Yes, I can see that. Are you going to paint her?”
“Aw, I suppose so. But I need her for Saturday,” Graham replied.
“What happens then?”
Graham explained his game with Max. His father nodded. “Pity I won’t be here. I am off on Friday.”
The Boy and the Battleship Page 11
