River Odyssey (16 page)

“I like sharpening.”

“You’re good at it too. Where’d you learn to sharpen like that?”

“In Newfoundland.”

“Uh huh? Somebody was a good teacher.”

“Yup.”

I never told anyone about Ziegfried or Sheba.

“Any luck finding that Pynsent fella yet?”

“Not yet.”

Jacob reached down and fed Hollie a piece of cookie through the open top of the tool bag. Hollie licked his fingers to say thank you.

“I guess you’ve travelled a long way to look for this fella.”

“I suppose.”

Jacob could read my mind. I could just tell.

“Hmmm. I did that once. The very same thing, I think.”

“Really?”

“Yup. A long time ago. I suppose I was about your age.”

“Was it worth it?”

He reached in and patted Hollie’s head affectionately. “No. Not really. How long has this fella been working on the dockyards?”

“Sixteen years.”

“You could check out the machine shops by the
Aeolus
.”

“What’s that?”

“A ship. She’s being refitted. If he’s been working here that long, there’s a good chance you’ll find him over there.”

Aeolus.
Cool name for an ocean freighter. Aeolus was the Greek god of the wind. Sheba talked about Greek gods and goddesses as if they really existed, but surely she didn’t believe that? You can’t believe in
everything.
That doesn’t make sense. Imagine a world where gods, goddesses, ghosts, mermaids, angels and sea monsters were all real. You might as well add fairies, trolls and witches too. What about dragons? Marie believed in the Loch Ness monster. I guess she now believes in the curse of the mummy too. Oh boy!

AFTER WORK I WALKED
up to get paid, bought a sandwich and ate it on the way to search for the
Aeolus.
This time we caught a bus for part of the way back to the dockyards. It was late evening when we found the yard where the
Aeolus
was lying. I was wearing my own pass now that said that I worked at the dockyards, and so I was allowed through the gate. How strange to enter that way instead of sneaking in through the shadows. It was funny how one piece of paper could make so much difference.

The
Aeolus
lay in dry dock like a tired warrior. I didn’t like seeing ships out of water. There was something sad about it. Freighters like her sailed all over the world, even up rivers, in all weather. They braved the fiercest storms and kept going even when their decks were caked with ice. They became floating islands for flocks of migrating sea-birds that flew thousands of miles every year. Nobody will ever know how many seabirds die every year because they get caught in storms or fall out of the sky from exhaustion. From the air, those birds can spot a freighter for about a thirty mile radius. Finding one must sometimes make the difference between life and death. For me, the freighters, like the seabirds, were noble creatures. I always found it sad to see one pulled out of the water like a dead whale, its rust and barnacles exposed for everyone to see.

But refitting was necessary. There certainly was no shame in tuning up an engine. Ziegfried taught me the importance of that. Why should it be sad to tune up a ship? It was the same thing, and yet it bothered me to see her hauled out of the river.

There was no one around except a few security guards. The machine shop closest to the ship was closed. At least I knew where these shops were now, another place where my father might be working. I quickly scanned the waterfront for places to hide the sub, but didn’t see any obvious ones. I would come back on Saturday, when I was off work, and look more closely. And I would come in the sub.

Once I knew where my father worked, all I had to do was go there first thing in the morning, say hello, return to the sub, get back into the river and sail back to Sheba’s island. Then we could prepare for the Pacific. I wouldn’t have to return to the shop and sharpen any more tools. Nobody would even remember me after a day or so. Nobody even knew who I really was. And yet… that didn’t feel right. I thought about it all the way back to the sub.

I couldn’t figure it out. Why would it bother me to leave like that? Did I want to become a machinist, like my father? No way! Did I want to live in a little room in the back of an industrial shop, like Jacob did? No. Did I want to live in the city? Not a chance. Then why would I be so reluctant to leave, once I was able?

For the last part of the walk back, Seaweed joined us. He drifted down from the sky like a snowflake, landed beside us and did his little cakewalk of hopping, skipping and flying short spaces to keep up, a little like a vulture. He looked happy and free, so wonderfully free. That’s how I wanted to stay, happy and free. No, I didn’t belong in the city and I didn’t belong in a machine shop. So why would I find it difficult to leave? I told myself I would have the answer by the time I touched the metal of the hatch.

I did. It was my promise. Nothing more than that. By accepting the job I had agreed that I would finish sharpening all of the saws and all of the chisels and blades in the shop. I hadn’t promised anything more than that, but I had promised that. It would only take me a few more days. Maybe by Saturday. Then I could leave. That is, once I had found my father.

Seaweed came to work with us the next day. He must have had enough of the big city already and decided he didn’t belong there either. I could understand. I never thought that anyone would pay attention to another seagull on the dockyards and so I never worried about us being spotted walking along together. But we were.

When we reached the shop, Seaweed flew up to the roof. Hollie and I went inside. As soon as we settled in the tool room and I picked up a chisel, Jacob came in. He was excited. His voice was in a whisper.

“Alfred! I saw you through my window.”

“Oh. Yah?”

“You were walking with a seagull!”

“I was?”

“Yes. You were. Alfred. I have something to show you. Come down to my room for a second.”

“Umm … okay, just for a second. I’m just getting started.”

“It will only take a second. I promise.”

I picked up the tool bag and followed Jacob down the hall. Hollie wouldn’t appreciate being left behind. Jacob’s room was just another large closet at the very end of the hallway, but it had a larger window, a fridge, hotplate, TV, sleeping cot and small bookshelf. It was kind of cozy. He pulled out a seat for me. I sat down with Hollie on my lap. Jacob reached for something under his bed. It was a scrap-book, big and fat and stuffed with newspaper clippings. He opened it delicately and turned its pages with care. I caught a glimpse of photos of ships and submarines, old ones and new ones. Why did he have pictures of submarines? What was this adding up to? He found the page he was looking for, stared at it closely for a minute and grinned.

“There! Hah!”

He turned the book around and brought it over and pointed to a newspaper clipping from the Montreal
Gazette.
It was a photo of me handing a family over to the coastguard. I had rescued them from their capsized sailboat in a storm. Seaweed was standing on the hatch behind me. The caption read:
“Submarine Outlaw Assists Coastguard with Rescue.”

“That’s you!” said Jacob excitedly.

I looked him in the eye, took a breath, paused, then let it out. “Yah.”

“I knew it! You’re the Submarine Outlaw!”

“Could you please not tell anyone?”

He put his hand over his heart. “My word.”

I flipped through the pages of the scrapbook very carefully. It was filled with cut-outs from newspapers, some of them old and faded. There were pictures of ship launches, sinkings, wrecks and piracy. There were oil-spills, drilling rigs, explosions and accidents. I saw the
Carolus,
the Newfoundland ferry, and the U-boat that sank her. There were pictures of the building of the St. Lawrence Seaway. There was the Queen, President Nixon and Pierre Trudeau. I felt honoured to be in the same scrapbook.

“Wow, you have kept this book for a long time.”

“Yup. I have. I never thought I’d meet somebody who was
in
it.”

“So, were you a sailor?”

“No. Wanted to be though.”

“How come you didn’t?”

He shrugged. “Ahhhh, that’s life, isn’t it? You spend your life dreaming of doing certain things while you’re busy doing other things.”

“Not me. I’m living the life that I want. That’s why I went to sea in my submarine. I’m an explorer.”

“You are indeed, Alfred. You are indeed.”

He closed his book and looked at me. “But why did you come to Montreal?”

“Oh. Well, this is actually the first time I did something I didn’t want to do. I’m looking for my father. A friend of mine told me it was a good idea. She said I would live with unfinished business for the rest of my life if I didn’t.”

Jacob frowned. “We always live with unfinished business, Alfred. I’ve never known anybody who didn’t.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

“Oh.”

He was wearing a strange expression on his face. I had the feeling he was leading up to something. He was.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“It’s a strange request.”

“Okay?”

“Would you give an old man a ride in your submarine?”

Oh boy. How could I answer that? I hated to disappoint anyone, especially someone as nice as Jacob. But I had promised myself that I wouldn’t take passengers in the sub any more, except in the case of emergencies. And I had meant it. As I stared into his kind face I asked myself if a promise to myself was just as important as a promise to somebody else.

At first I thought that it wasn’t, I really did. But when I opened my mouth to answer him, the words wouldn’t come out. Something inside me told me it was the same. If I couldn’t keep a promise to myself, why would I keep a promise to anybody else? Besides, the danger was real. I had learned that with Marie. What if Jacob panicked and got injured while riding in the sub? Was I willing to take responsibility for that?

I looked him in the eye when I answered. “I’m really very sorry. I promised myself I wouldn’t take passengers any more because it is dangerous and I don’t feel able to protect them well enough. I’m sorry.”

I saw disappointment cloud his eyes and his smile drop. He nodded his head with resignation. “I understand. You’re a conscientious young man, Alfred.”

Did he really understand? I hoped he did but couldn’t tell. I knew I had done the right thing though. I knew it, even though it didn’t feel good.

Early Saturday morning I took the sub upriver until I spotted the
Aeolus.
She wasn’t easy to see from the water. There were buildings in the way and another ship docked nearby. Through the periscope I scanned the pier. Outside of the shop closest to the
Aeolus
I saw half a dozen men gather. It was too far to see them clearly but one of the men did something that startled me. He danced a little jig. Probably it was nothing more than a coincidence but my grandmother once told me that my father was fond of dancing the jig. Could that man on the pier be my father?

BY THE END OF
the day on Saturday I had mostly finished sharpening the tools. There were a few left but it was questionable whether they were worth saving. I felt I could leave in good conscience.

Sunday we stayed in the sub, listened to music, cleaned up and rested. We needed the rest. I considered moving the sub to another spot where it would be better hidden, but that would have taken all day and I figured we’d only be around a day or two more at the most, so we stayed put.

On Monday we were on our way through the streets of the city in the early hours of the morning. Hollie trotted beside me. Seaweed flew above us. We went down to the dockyard where the
Aeolus
lay. She was a great old ship up close. I was glad she was being refitted.

As we passed the machine shops I felt butterflies in my stomach. No matter how I tried to downplay it I couldn’t escape the thought that maybe I was about to meet my father. My grandfather’s words echoed in my head. “He’s not like you!”