The Ocean Pho
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Thus, as Captain Everson called her, had been a long time in the making. He had first seen her when he was only sixteen years old and working as an apprentice at his uncle’s shipyard on the Thames. The vessel had just come from the shipwrights and she was still in the process of being fitted out: every part of her was covered by canvas to keep it dry until the fitting-out work was done.
She would not be launched for another six months, but he had already decided that one day she would be his own ship and he could see why they were going to such trouble to make her perfect.
She was the pride of the yard; her hull was constructed entirely of oak planks bound together with pitch. Her bowsprit and sternpost were made of ash wood which was also used for most of the timbers framing her masts.
Even though the hull itself was made of oak, she was fastened together with iron nails rather than wooden pegs so that the timber did not rot away in the damp environment. It was this attention to detail and care in construction that made him fall in love with her.
She was thirty feet in length and eighteen feet wide, but she looked far larger from the water because she was so low in the waterline. She was built like a fine country house: a squat brick building set into a high bank of earth or stone.
There were no bulwarks around her deck, and she had a small single mast forward with a large square sail mounted behind. As he stood there watching them finish off the last few touches to the paintwork on her bow, she seemed almost ready to take to the sea herself. His uncle told him how proud they all were of their new addition to the fleet.
‘You should have been here three days ago,’ said Robert Everson, ‘when we put up those new sails. They’re the best sails I’ve ever seen, especially that mainstay.’
Robert had always been interested in ships and even now, after forty years, he remained fascinated by the way they moved through the water. He loved nothing more than standing on the shoreline and watching the great ships come and go, but it wasn’t until he had taken over the family business that he realized what it took to make these majestic vessels move across the waves.
Now he spent hours down in the yards watching his workers at work. Most of the men were local, although some came from further afield – mainly from Bristol, where they were able to get the finest quality of timber for their frames and other parts of the ship.
This meant that they never needed to travel too far to get to work each morning. But they were paid well enough to pay their fares back home again each night.
As a boy, he had often helped his father in the workshop and watched as they carved and painted the wooden planking that formed the framework of the ship. Some of the tools were very basic, such as a chisel, hammer, and mallet, but others were much more complex, such as the carpenter’s saw that could cut straight lines as accurately as if it had been drawn by hand.
Sometimes it took several people to carry out certain tasks, but at other times one man could do the job alone. It was hard labor, but his father always taught him that the effort was worth it.
‘When you build a ship,’ he said, ‘you are creating something unique and beautiful. You are making history and you can be sure that your name will live forever in the minds of the sailors who crew her. Your reputation is what makes you rich and famous, so don’t think twice about putting in that extra bit of elbow grease.’
Everson nodded quietly. It was true that the work was tiring and dirty, but the satisfaction he felt when the completed ship finally left the slipway and sailed out onto the river was immeasurable. And then it happened.
One afternoon his father went into the yard to speak to the foreman about the next stage of the build, but when he returned to the office he found that the door was locked and the key was missing. Everson knew right away what had happened, so he rushed outside to find his father lying unconscious on the ground.
Blood was pooling around his head and the foreman was kneeling beside him holding his hand.
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ he said, ‘but your son tried to force his way inside and attacked me. We called for help, but it seems he’s dead.’
He turned to look at the boy, but Everson was staring down at his father, tears streaming down his cheeks. The foreman knelt down and placed an arm around Everson’s shoulder.
‘Come now lad,’ he said, ‘don’t worry yourself about things. Come back to the office with us and let us explain everything. It won’t be long before you’ll be able to return to your father’s side.’
The foreman led them back towards the office, which was filled with worried faces. Everson’s mother sat in the chair by the desk, crying uncontrollably while his younger brother held her shoulders. Then he spotted his father sitting propped against the wall, his eyes closed, looking peaceful and calm.
He would have liked to see him one last time, just once, to say goodbye, but this wasn’t possible now. His uncle walked over to the desk and began to read from a piece of paper.
‘His lordship has instructed me to inform you that as the boy is the heir apparent to the family business, he will be staying under lock and key until further notice.’
Everson looked down at his father. There was no need for him to stay behind bars any longer, but the foreman continued.
‘Your father’s death was a tragedy, but the fact remains that there is no way to prove who committed the crime. As such, you must remain here until the investigation has concluded. In addition, we have also decided to sell your shares in the business and give you the proceeds. However, we cannot allow you to take part in its operation for the foreseeable future.’
He paused for a moment to collect himself.
‘There are some people who will want revenge, so please keep a low profile until all the evidence has been gathered and presented to the authorities.’
With that, he stood up and bowed to them all before leaving the room. Everson couldn’t believe that he had lost everything, including his father. All he wanted to do was go home, but first he needed to make sure that his father hadn’t died in vain.
That night he crept through the dark streets to visit his friend William, whom he’d known since childhood. They both lived near the waterfront, close enough to hear the sound of the ships as they pulled up into the docks and loaded their cargo.
William had grown up working alongside his father, who was also a carpenter, but he had taken a different path after being apprenticed to the dockyard. Now he owned several ships, one of which was moored close to where they met.
It was a large vessel that was used to transport goods between the continent and Britain, but she was too big to pull up into the water using only the oars. She needed a steam engine to power the winches that brought the boat into the harbor.
‘How did it go?’ asked William, seeing how upset Everson seemed.
They both fell silent for a few moments before William spoke again.
‘You’re not going to tell me it didn’t happen, are you? I mean, you know how my father feels about your father …’
‘No, he was murdered!’ Everson said angrily, ‘and if it weren’t for me he would still be alive today. I should never have come back here.’
William nodded in agreement and they sat together, sipping at their ale, thinking about the events that were about to unfold. After finishing their drinks and saying goodnight, Everson made his way home, knowing that tomorrow morning would bring new problems.
***
In the days following the funeral, Everson found himself spending most of his time in bed, unable to eat or drink anything. When he eventually got out of bed, it was to walk down to the church and attend the burial service. The vicar conducted the service and told everyone present that they could pray for his soul.
When the mourners returned to the rectory, they were shocked to find that the body had disappeared. Apparently, it had been buried without permission, and the vicar refused to accept responsibility. A search party was quickly assembled to recover the corpse, but it took four hours to locate it, hidden beneath the floorboards of the kitchen.
Once recovered, Everson insisted on taking charge of the embalming process, although his uncle thought otherwise.
After the coffin was finally lowered into the ground, Everson’s mother sent him away. She had already packed up their belongings and left the house. Her husband remained locked away in the cellar, along with his own personal possessions, while the rest of the family moved to the townhouse next door.
Everson knew that his uncle had planned this to prevent him from doing anything foolish, but he had bigger things to worry about. For starters, he had to decide what he was going to do with the remainder of his life.
If he stayed in England, then he would have to work for the family company, which meant working with his father’s murderer, and that wasn’t an option. But if he went abroad, then he might lose control of his shareholding, something that was very important to him. He couldn’t let anyone else control his destiny. His mind was made up. He was going to America.
The day after the funeral, he walked down to the docks to say goodbye to his friends. As he approached the ship, he saw his two best friends, Richard and George, waiting patiently for him.
‘What are you boys up to?’ asked Everson, noticing the barrels they carried.
‘We’ve just bought a shipment of whisky,’ replied Richard, ‘so now we’ll be able to get drunk every night instead of having to sneak off and find somewhere quiet to drink.’
Everson laughed, happy that he wouldn’t need to leave behind the best thing about England: the pubs.
‘So you won’t miss me, will you?’
Both men looked up at him sadly and shook their heads.
‘Of course, we will,’ said George, ‘you’re our mate. You’ll always be welcome here, no matter where you end up.’
As Everson hugged each man tightly, he felt sad to think that he would probably never see them again.
‘Good luck with your travels,’ said Richard.
‘Thanks for everything, lads.’
Richard gave Everson a wink as George turned away and began walking towards the quay wall. Everson watched as he climbed aboard the ship, and once he was inside, the vessel set sail for the Atlantic Ocean.
Then he turned to look back at the dock. As he stared out over the dark waters, he noticed a figure standing nearby, staring straight at him through the rain-drenched windscreen. It was his cousin, who was watching him from afar, tears streaming down his face. He waved to show that he understood, then the young man disappeared from sight.
The End