The Shipping Forecast

Thames - Part 3

The 'worthy' von Moyton's warehouse was located at the end of a row of increasingly shabby buildings in the most out of the way corner of the docks, surrounded by haphazard stacks of crates and piles of nameless equipment covered in tarpaulins. I had the impression much of it had been lost or forgotten and left to rot away where nobody could see it. Von Moyton must have earned his worthiness by some means other than shipping goods, as his warehouse appeared to be in a state of imminent collapse. The few windows the warehouse sported were dirty and broken, and a door hung by only one hinge at the rear of the building. The inside of the warehouse was dark, and the sound of rats scurrying in the corners dissuaded me from venturing inside.

I made my way to the front of the warehouse, where oily waters of the dock lapped against the soot-blackened wharf. A few old barges, one of them half sunk, the beams rotting and falling apart, lay moribund in the water tied to bollards by frayed and rotten ropes. Nestled against the wharf behind these monuments to a failed maritime enterprise was a most strikingly beautiful yacht. Amongst the dirt and ruin that surrounded it, the clean white hull and topsides and the newly varnished mast and spars stood out with incongruous conspicuity. On the stern was written its name in a fancy script - Bandit.

There was no time for me to ponder on the meaning of that name, suffice to say that it fitted somewhat with the image I had of Henry Phillips as that of a disreputable salesman. I suspected there may well be a trail of indignant people who cursed Henry Phillip's name and who would agree that the name was apt. My attention however was drawn to a disturbance around the corner of the warehouse, where angry voices and the sound of objects being knocked to the ground spoke of some kind of disagreement. I rounded the corner to find Henry pushed up against the wall of von Moyton's warehouse by two men, one of whom had Henry's shirt by the collar, the other prodding Henry in the chest and pointing angrily towards the wharf side.

When I appeared, they froze, all looking at me in surprise and suspicion. Henry was the first to recover. Smiling widely and freeing himself from his assailants, Henry strolled towards me as if nothing untoward had happened, straightening up his shirt as he came. "There you are! I was beginning to worry you might not make it. Ronnie and Bruce on the boat already are they? Good, time we were off, tide and time wait for no man."

I stood with my mouth hanging open for a heartbeat while my brain caught up with what was happening. Henry was walking confidently towards me while the thugs - for they could be nothing less - gave me a professional appraisal. I saw one slip a revolver from their coat pocket. My time in the Navy had prepared me for many situations like this, and having visited many ports on both sides of the Atlantic during my service I was familiar with the seedier side of life one found in these parts. I twigged quickly to Henry's ruse and played along, hoping the two thugs would decide not to press matters.

"I've sent them below to stow their gaff, Henry," I said, watching the thugs for signs of suspicion. "Would you like me to call them over here?"

"No, no need. Let's just get underway while the tide's good."

Henry walked past me and headed straight for the yacht, and I followed behind, trying to act like the crew he made me out to be. I could feel the thugs following close behind, and I expected any moment to hear the report of a pistol and feel the bite of a bullet. Fortunately we were saved by the arrival of a party of Russian sailors who appeared miraculously, shouting and joking with each other as they walked past the warehouse, no doubt intent on making the most of their long-awaited shore leave. I could have hugged them all as they walked between Henry and I and our murderous followers, their presence ensuring our safety for the few moments it took for us to board the Bandit and cast off the lines. Some of the sailors stood admiring the yacht as Henry and I hoisted the mainsail and began working out of the dock, the thugs watching with looks of impotent rage as we sailed safely away.