Authors: Gordon Brown
It sounded good but I had no idea how difficult it
would be to find someone that was both going to
Barcelona
, and willing to take
a stranger. I went back to the car and drove to the town centre. Once I had
parked up I walked down to the marina, picked a bar that overlooked the complex
and ordered a coffee.
It was still early and people were thin on the ground.
I was close to the entrance to the marina and watched the comings and goings.
An hour later, a little hotter and none the wiser I
was still sitting in the same chair. I ordered a Coke.
I simply had no idea where to start. How do you hitch
a lift in a boat?
The morning meandered along and I considered and
reconsidered my options. Lunchtime arrived and the café busied up. I hadn’t
eaten since yesterday afternoon and I ordered pizza and a large plate of chips
along with another Coke.
As I ate, I studied the other patrons hoping for some divine
inspiration.
By
two o’clock
I was getting depressed. The lack of action was
killing me.
At the back of my head I had the nagging feeling that
the goons from Inca wouldn’t take long to figure where I was. After all how
hard could it be?
I got off my seat and went for another wander and, as
I walked, I passed a small bar ringing with laughter and looked in. Four men
were standing at the bar giving the local beer a good hiding. I walked up to
the bar and ordered a pint of what they were downing and earwigged the
conversation, letting the alcohol take the edge off my growing frustration.
It became clear that the men owned a yacht in the
marina and were on holiday. In for a penny and in for a pound, I gate crashed
their conversation and asked which boat was theirs?
They were unfazed with my interruption and one of the
men nodded to the door and we walked over. He pointed to the marina and tried
to guide my eye to their boat. I couldn’t swear that I was looking at the right
one but when I asked what type it was he went off on one. Halfway through I had
to own up to knowing nothing about boats, but this just made him more vocal on
the subject.
We drifted back to his mates and I bought a round.
This went down well and soon I was knee deep in nautical terms and stories.
The guys were good company. They had been friends
since school and acted the way you do when you know someone so well that you
can read their thoughts. Ten years ago they had agreed to buy a quarter each of
a yacht. None of them knew the first thing about sailing but they all fancied
it. The current yacht was their third and a source of pride and joy.
I asked where they had been and where they were
heading.
‘
Malaga
then
San
Antonio
in
Ibiza
then
Mahon
in
Minorca
and we
came in here two days ago. If things go well we want to try and get to
Barcelona
and
then down the coast and back to
Malaga
.’
I was amazed they didn’t notice my double take when
they said
Barcelona
.
‘When do you head off?’
The guy who had tried to show me the boat told me they
were leaving first thing in the morning. They wanted to try and get there while
it was still light. I asked if they wanted a passenger and they laughed. I said
I was serious and they went cold on me. Then they got bored with me and made
their excuses before leaving.
I sat with my drink and contemplated my next move.
I could trawl the marina for someone else bound for
Barcelona
but
I could look long enough.
I left the bar and found the four men a couple of bars
away. I didn’t go in but found a cafe opposite and waited.
Just after four they tumbled out and walked towards
the marina. I fell in behind them, keeping well back. They were laughing and
joking as they staggered out onto one of the piers. Four boats from the end
they leapt on board a tidy looking motor cruiser. I reckoned she was forty
feet, maybe a bit more, in length. I retreated to the entrance of the marina
and decided on a course of action.
I returned to my car and emptied the suitcase onto the
back seat. Bundling a few toiletries and one change of clothes into the front
seat, I packed the rest into the boot and closed it. A trip to a nearby Spar
and I had purchased two two litre bottles of water, a large bag of crisps and
four chocolate bars. I asked the shopkeeper for an extra plastic bag and I
bundled the stuff on the front seat into the spare bag.
A few moments later and I drove the car to a public
car park, locked it and placed the keys behind the front left wheel. Avis would
find out about it when I got home.
I chose another café that faced the marina and settled
in for the wait.
Just before seven I saw the four men making their way
to the town. The laughing and joking had been replaced by silence as the
alcohol in their system took its payment for the early jollity it had provided.
As they walked past I dropped my head under the table, as if I was looking for
something.
Once they were gone I got up and walked into the
marina.
It was dark but there were signs of life everywhere
and I nodded to a few people as I worked my way out to the boat - trying to
look as if I belonged there.
Luckily there was no one else on the nearby boats and
I slipped on board the four lads’ cruiser, clutching my two bags.
I had expected the door to the cabin to be locked, and
already had my hands on my tool kit, but it was open and I went inside. I
entered a living room with bench seats down either side. A small kitchen was
tucked into the left hand corner near the entrance. To the right was a small
toilet. At the far end there were two doors. Both opened onto bedrooms. The one
on the left was the master bedroom with a large double bed. The one on the
right was smaller with two single beds against each wall - barely inches
between them. I wondered who shared the double bed?
Returning to the deck I scanned the rest of the boat.
Two chairs sat either side of the door to the cabin, one with the steering
wheel and various instruments in front of it.
Behind the chairs sat a horseshoe arrangement of two
long runs of plastic covered seating with a gap at the rear for the entrance to
the boat. In the centre of the horseshoe the floor shone with wooden decking. A
large trapdoor sat near the back and when I lifted it I found myself looking
down on the engine. I closed it and went back to the cabin but after a few
minutes I realised there was nowhere to hide.
Back on the deck I reopened the trap door to the
engine room and dropped in.
I had to bend double due to the low roof.
The room was dominated by the engine but it was
possible to circle it. I did so and, at the back sat a row of cupboards. A
quick search of the cupboards revealed an array of bits and bobs from rope to
torches. Below them was a door that ran the width of the boat. The door opened
by dropping to the floor. Inside was a dog’s dinner of material including what
looked like a lifetime’s supply of porn.
I bent down and realised that if I pushed everything
to the front I could slip in behind the contents and hide. I wouldn’t survive a
military inspection but nothing in the cupboard looked like it was well used -
save the magazines. I didn’t think that the men would be back for a while so I
re-arranged the cubbyhole to leave a space at the back.
Happy that I could slip in quickly, I exited the
engine room, jumped off the boat and returned to the town.
It took me half an hour to find the men. They were
sitting in a restaurant chatting quietly, water not booze stood on the table
and it was obvious they were keeping a clear head for the morning.
At
ten thirty
they waved for the bill and I made my move. I walked
quickly back to their boat, jumped on board and opened the engine room door. I
dropped down and pulled it shut.
The place was pitch black and I cursed myself for not
bringing a torch. I banged both shins getting to the cupboard, cut my thumb
fiddling with the latch and settling in took longer than I had expected. I
heard the sound of footsteps on the boat just as I pulled the cubby hole door
shut.
There was a lot of clumping and chat as the men
readied for bed. I soon discovered that my head was below the toilet, as one of
the men dropped a log that sent a nightmare smell into my space.
After an hour the boat fell quiet and I realised that
I should have stayed on the dock and snuck in later. It was already getting cramped
and hot but I couldn’t risk moving around. If someone heard any noise it
wouldn’t take long to find me.
I tried to make myself comfortable but I was on a
loser. Twisting and turning, all in silent mode, I put my hand on the familiar
tube of a torch. I pulled it to my body, covered the lens and threw the switch.
At least I had light. I didn’t think it would be seen upstairs. I hoped it
wouldn’t be seen upstairs.
So here I lie whispering into the recorder.
I have no idea what tomorrow might bring.
Hell. It is a simple as that. Hell. To say I am
relieved to be on dry land and out of the boat is the understatement of my
life.
Around
seven
o’clock
this morning there were signs of
life above. I was already in a bad place. Cramped and unable to go for a piss I
had eventually emptied one of my bottles, mostly on the floor and re-filled it
with urine. It was a not my finest moment but at least it was better than
pissing in my trousers. Not than anyone would have noticed the smell if I had -
every time any one used the toilet I got the full bhoona. I have no idea what
the men were eating last night but it wasn’t a light salad.
The engine kicked into life just before
seven thirty
and I realised
that what I thought was a crap idea took a shovel and dug deep. The noise from
the engine, and it was still only on tick over, was deafening. The diesel power
plant lay less than three feet from my head and the combination of the noise
and vibration blocked out the world. When the engine note deepened there was a
slight swaying, and I realised we were moving.
Ten minutes later the driver turned the engine up to
eleven and my life became a maelstrom of noise and motion. The boat planed and
I rolled towards the cubby hole door. The nose would dip to bite through a wave
and I would roll to the front of the boat. Then the boat would lift clear and I
would roll back - this process went on endlessly.
As we broke from the bay the current or the waves or
some act of nature worked on the side of the boat and gave the up and down
motion a side to side lilt. Every so often we would hit a larger than normal
wave and my head would be slammed off the roof of the cubby hole.
I was forced to grab a rope coil and wrap it around my
head like a Sikh’s turban. It was uncomfortable but gave me some protection
against the wave movement. It also dulled the noise a little, but not much. I
rearranged the angle I lay at and tried to wedge myself in a way that would
reduce the rolling.
I realised that I lacked one vital piece of
information that might have made the whole thing bearable. How long would this
go on? I had no real idea of what the distance from
Mallorca
to
Barcelona
meant in terms of nautical time. The only information I had to go on was the
discussion with the men when they said they wanted to get the trip done in
daylight. Dusk was twelve hours away and I tried to settle down and ride it
out.
Two hours into the journey and I was on the verge of
giving up and handing myself in. It was unbearable. Even if they decided to
turn back and drop me in
Mallorca
it had to be better than this.
The throbbing of the engine had hard-wired a headache
of growing proportions into my skull. The rope around my head kept slipping off
and was chafing my skin. The air was burning hot. The combination of the rising
temperature outside and
the
heat of the engine had driven the atmosphere in the engine room to well beyond
something I could survive long.
I opened the cubby hole door and rolled
out into the engine room. The noise rose another notch and I crawled round to
the hatchway. I was reaching up to push the hatch open when a breath of cool
air brushed my wrist. Moving my arm around in the dark I picked up the draught
and followed it back to its source. I felt a handle above me and the draught
was coming from just beneath it. I crawled back to the cubby hole to get the
torch.
Back at the handle I flipped on the light. No one
would notice it up top in broad daylight. There was a small door about three
feet by three feet in front of me. On my initial recce of the room I had missed
it. I pulled on the handle and the door opened outwards and I was washed with
cool air. I gulped it in like water to a man in the desert.