Part 3
My cousins ran the family business now, but I still kept a boat for leisure and a bit of smuggling which was where all the drink for the show opening had come from. I loved being out on the sea at night and had long ago taken to sailing as well; the cool solitude, you could free your mind and ponder life’s possibilities, the romance of running into foreign ports and dodging the Customs with your contraband. It was a great antidote to the stress of running a business; my wife though had never so much as set a foot upon any of my boats.
Clare and I made our preparations and soon we were ready. On the pretence of working late one night Clare invited me around to dinner. It went well, we swapped a few tales of our climbing exploits and Simon in a cheerful mood poured more beer. Taking my cue, I mentioned my need to nip across the Channel and restock after the show opening; his eyebrows popped up and I explained about my fishing boat and my regular excursions.
Then I let him talk me into taking him with me on the next trip. Easy!
We met early at Mudeford on the allotted day and I rowed us out to where my boat was moored. It was nearly as old as me, my dad and I had purchased it years earlier with the express purpose of crossing the Channel regularly. It had needed an overhaul by the time we got it, but after a couple of illicit trips, it kind of paid for itself!
I started up its twin engines and let them idle while we got ready; ours would be a leisurely trip across to Honfleur with a line each out over the stern as we went.
Eight hours later we arrived. We spent the afternoon shopping, nipping back to the boat regularly to load up. I had purchased loads of cigarettes, always a top seller on site; I actually had a number of regular customers who in turn sold on to their own clientele. We all love to beat the taxman!
Early evening I grabbed a couple of hours kip while we awaited the tide to leave the little port, Simon meanwhile was off sightseeing.
It was a pleasant evening when we exited the lock chamber out into the Seine, a golden sunset; we were still basking in the last light, while across the water from us Le Havre’s lights were already twinkling in the gloom.
Three hours out disaster struck, some old net fouled one of the props stopping the engine dead and in the process taking out my generator. I still had one engine, but only battery power to run it on, which quickly became depleted, I radioed for assistance without success. I’m never beaten though, sending Simon down to the galley to knock up some tea I told him I would free up the other prop.
Relaxed by my self-confidence he bustled around while I changed into a wet suit I kept against eventualities. Back on deck I removed the lashes from a pile of tarpaulins behind the cabin and retrieved a jet ski. I dragged it astern and dropped it in, then manoeuvred it out of sight.
Splashing around I ensured that there really was some netting wrapped around the drive shaft, then clambered back aboard.
Simon appeared with my tea just as I was attempting to restart the engines, after a few lame attempts I started the entangled one, it was cold and didn't like the constriction of the netting, but eighty horsepower can overcome an awful lot.
As we started moving again I explained that we needed to recharge our batteries before starting the other engine, I even got him to radio the news and our position for the benefit of anyone listening. By now though we were ten miles west of our reported position.
As we spluttered slowly on our way I was absorbed watching for my opportunity, seeing it I immediately feigned more engine trouble.
At the last moment he too spotted our danger, a huge foaming white bow wave bearing down on us; ready for him I hit him maliciously with a hefty blow to the side of the head, he was only dazed, but that was the idea. As he fell I tumbled him down the steps into the bow cabin where the galley was; then I dashed aft to my waiting jet ski.
If it didn't start I would be joining him!
But it did and with moments to spare I made my escape; as a giant container ship ploughed straight through my boat splintering it and sending it straight to the bottom.
An hour later I reached a small yacht moored in a secluded bay near Gatteville, I had moored it there a couple of nights before. One of my tax fiddles, I had bought it with cash months earlier, intending eventually to sell it on in the Med'; instead I spent the next year sailing it halfway around the world to Auckland.
Clare acted out her part as the grief stricken wife, also assisting the bank consortium that took over my business.
The ensuing accident investigation faced with very little evidence could only draw one conclusion. There were two radio transmissions that had been logged and several days later some debris was spotted miles from our last known position comprising mainly of cigarette packs. Investigation into my circumstances showed that I had everything to live for and so the recorded verdict concluded that while adrift following engine failure a freighter collided with us; misadventure!
Clare and I had kept in touch by phone; then a few weeks after the anniversary of her husband’s death she and her children emigrated to start a new life in New Zealand. As soon as we were reunited we married under the new identity that Clare had arranged, then settled down and added two more children to the family.
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