Trouble in the Boiler Room
by Peter Clarke
William went below with the others. He didn’t want to go back to trimming. He liked being topside. Liked the wind, the action, and liked the men. Most of all, he liked being away from Hall. He sighed as they all went down to the boiler room. Things would have to go back to normal. Armstrong had been running a split watch, but now that all the boilers were needed all the time, both Armstrong’s and Hall’s watches would be needed.
The men presented themselves in the boiler room. The room seemed much warmer. William guessed now the weather outside was hotter, it would be hotter in the boiler room, too. The heat was exhausting, and there were always one or two men drinking from the barrel.
Hall was in charge. William guessed Hall and Armstrong had managed a watch each, using Armstrong’s men.
“Well, lads,” said Hall. “Welcome back. I heard you boys would be back soon. Things’re back to normal. And how are you, Bill? Ready to do some trimming, no doubt?”
Hall dismissed Armstrong’s men, and his own men set themselves up in the for’ard and aft boiler rooms without being told. The other men had done a good job, and it was just a matter of keeping the fires well stoked and raked. The ship was already under steam, the engines banging, the drive chains rattling and the steam hissing. Things might have been back to normal, but the pace was harder with all the boilers going. It was clear the captain was going to take advantage of a lack of wind and push the ship harder under steam. It wasn’t long before all the men in the boiler room were shirtless, perspiration pouring from them.
William was hurrying from the bunker with his wheelbarrow, keen to deliver the coal to the firemen. Suddenly, his legs locked around his ankles and he pitched forward, smashing his forehead on the edge of the wheelbarrow. He lay still for a few moments, dazed from the blow to his head and wondering about the cause.
Looking up, he saw Hall grinning broadly, tapping the handle of his shovel. As he wondered what that meant, he felt himself hoisted to his feet by Vince Alexander and Alan Coe.
“Christ, Bill. Are you all right?”
William tried to nod, to look at his mates, but his vision was blurred.
“Christ, Bill. There’s blood everywhere! We’ve got to get you to the surgery.”
“Take him,” said Hall. “Shift’s nearly done, anyway.”
“Here, Vince,” said Alan. “I’m bigger, I’ll take him, and you tend to the furnaces.”
Alan Coe hoisted William onto his shoulder, left the boiler room, climbed the ladder to the next deck and walked down the passageway to the surgery. The surgeon was already at work, still tending to the man that had fallen earlier from the shrouds.
William noticed a sharp smell on entering the room. He’d never been to a doctor, so had no idea what to expect. There was a lighted lamp, and a port hole that allowed some light from the imminent dawn. The surgery was a small room. It contained two beds for patients, a bench where the surgeon could perform minor operations and a desk and chair for the surgeon. There were shelves and cabinets around the walls that were filled with a variety of bottles and jars.
“One at a time!” said the surgeon, but did a double take when he saw William’s face.
“Lord. What’s happened?”
“I think he’s hit his head, sir, doctor, sir.”
“You wait,” said the surgeon to the sailor on the table. “I’ll check this man before I finish with you.”
The surgeon told Alan to put William in his own chair, grabbed a bowl, put some water in it and washed William’s face. There was a severe gash on his forehead, bleeding heavily. There was so much black dust he had to wash the area several times before he could identify the source of the blood.
“You’re going to have to wait longer,” he said to the sailor. Then turned to Alan. “And you’re going to hold your friend while I put some stiches in this cut.”
“Will it hurt?” asked William.
“Of course not. What do you take me for? A butcher?”
“If it’s not going to hurt, why does he have to hold me?”
“Sense of humour, eh? Good. You’re going to need that. Hold him.”
Alan stood behind the chair and held William’s arms.