Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The walk back took less than the half an hour Jack had teasingly predicated, but as I approached my mooring position, I stumbled and came to an abrupt halt.
There was something very wrong about the scene in front of me, but for a moment some kind of protective force in my brain prevented me from realising what it was.
The flowers in my little towpath garden were dancing in the breeze, their bright colours as cheerful as ever.
The ship’s bell used by Jack to signal last orders on the Jericho Wine Barge was sparkling in the sunshine, and the bar furniture was set out on the deck.
By the towpath, my neighbour’s mooring ropes were neatly tied and everything looked shipshape.
My gaze continued on to the Oxford Bookship and that was where my mind stuttered, because the Oxford Bookship wasn’t there.
Or rather, she was, but she wasn’t where she should be, safely secured to the mooring rings on the towpath with the sturdy ropes which I checked religiously every time I stepped foot on shore.
The rope at the stern of the boat was still looped through the ring, just about, but it was slack instead of taunt, trailing loosely into the watery gap between the boat and the shore, a watery gap that was far bigger than normal and growing greater by the second.
I dropped my bags onto the towpath, not even pausing at the ominous smashing sound which came from within them.
Heart pounding with terror, I ran forwards.
Now I could see the bow more clearly too, facing diagonally out towards the centre of the canal, the mooring rope floating on the surface of the greenish-brown water, nowhere near the ring it was meant to be secured to.
‘No, no, no,’ I said, each horrified ‘no’ getting progressively louder.
I lunged at the stern mooring rope, trying to trap it under my foot, but it was too late. The rope plopped into the water as a gust of breeze blew the Oxford Bookship away from the bank.
‘Don’t panic, Hilda,’ I yelled, imagining her cowering in fear in the cabin, wondering why her world was moving without me on board to reassure her.
She’d never travelled on the boat without me at her side and I couldn’t bear to imagine how much it might freak her out to see the landscape changing and have no idea where she was going.
What could I do? Although the canal wasn’t that wide, the rope was already too far away to reach, even supposing I had a boat hook or a long stick to hand.
I knew my neighbour was out for a walk, and there was no sign of anyone else around who might be able to help me.
I did some rapid calculations. The next nearest neighbours were Bill and Rozina, but it would take them at least five minutes to get here, even supposing they weren’t at work.
Or I could run to the Oxford Boating Association headquarters to raise the alarm and borrow one of their dinghies to regain control of my canal boat.
That could be a sensible option. After all, the breeze wasn’t that strong.
The Oxford Bookship wasn’t going to drift away and never be seen again.
But on the other hand, the breeze was powerful enough to send my beloved boat into the opposite bank within minutes, where the already-damaged hull could be further impacted.
And there were no guarantees that someone would be around at the Boating Association to help.
What if another boat came puttering along the canal in the meantime?
An untethered boat the size of the Oxford Bookship could cause some serious damage, both to property, and more importantly, to people or animals.
No, I couldn’t afford to risk it. I needed to get hold of the Bookship as soon as possible.
And there was only one way I was going to manage to do that.
I removed my shoes then stripped off my t-shirt and skirt, wary of the risk which could be posed by the extra fabric dragging me down, then made my way to the edge of the bank.
‘Molly, wait…’
‘Molls, what…’
Two male voices tried to stop me, two guys appearing out of nowhere as if some flash alert had gone round the Man Network saying, ‘Woman in mismatched undies about to jump into slightly mucky canal’.
I ignored them and lowered myself into the tepid water.
Despite my panic at the situation, I wasn’t daft enough to dive in without knowing what I might encounter, especially given that the water level was slightly lower than normal due to the summer weather.
Although I’d claimed otherwise to Jack, in reality anything could be lurking under the surface of the canal, and impaling myself on a rusty shopping trolley wasn’t going to help save the Oxford Bookship.
Somebody else had no such qualms, because as I started a steady breaststroke towards my boat, there was a loud splash behind me. Somehow I knew who it was without having to turn back to check.
‘You go for the bow rope. I’ll keep swimming for the stern one,’ I shouted to Jack.
‘On it,’ he said, his confident tone a reassurance.
I pushed on, finally grabbing the rope and hauling it over my shoulder.
I trod water for a few seconds to check Jack had managed to get the bow rope before I turned back and set off for the shore again.
It was harder work on the way back as I was terrified of losing the rope again, plus I was effectively dragging the barge behind me.
The boat’s buoyancy could only help me so much and I was hyper conscious of all the ways in which this manoeuvre could go horribly wrong.
If another boat was to arrive and its helm wasn’t concentrating on what they were doing, it didn’t bear thinking about what could happen.
It was a relief to reach the shore again. I grabbed hold of a tuft of grass, before quickly transferring my grip to a more solid looking tree root. Now I needed to work out how to get out of the water without letting go of the rope. A pair of Nike trainers appeared in my eyeline.
‘Lovely day for a dip,’ said Liam, who I’d already identified as being the owner of the other male voice.
I was not in the mood for banter.
‘Can you help?’ I asked brusquely.
‘What can I do?’ he asked in a rather hurt voice, clearly disappointed I wasn’t engaging.
‘Could you take the rope off me?’ I instructed, adding in a conciliatory please as an afterthought. ‘I’d rather not be holding it as I get out, in case I slip and catch myself on it. Rope burn or worse is not the next challenge I want to be dealing with today.’
Liam bent down and grabbed it, wrinkling his nose.
‘Eurgh, grim. It’s a bit slimy,’ he said as he immediately started hauling on it.
‘Wait a moment,’ I said, deploying my best dog disciplining tone. ‘I need to get out first. If you pull the boat in, I’m in danger of getting caught between it and the bank.’
‘Heck, sorry, what an idiot move to make. Do you want a hand?’ He dropped the rope and reached out for me, seemingly oblivious to the more important role he was meant to be playing.
‘Blimey, Liam, don’t let go after I went to such efforts to get it,’ I rebuked him. ‘The best way you can help me is by picking the rope back up and keeping a tight hold while I get out myself.’
‘Sorry, Molls,’ he said sheepishly. As he leaned forward to pick the rope up again, his denim jacket flapped open, and I spotted a red blinking light on a small camera strapped to his chest. Yet another boat drama involving me that he’d managed to get on film.
‘Turn that off before I get out,’ I said, not bothering with a please this time. I was beyond tired of him recording my every move for posterity, plus I had no desire to appear on the internet in my current state of undress.
‘I happened to be filming in the area when I heard your cry for help,’ he responded defensively.
‘I started running, knowing something bad must have happened. To be honest, I forgot it was still recording,’ he added, covering the lens, which in my mind wasn’t the same as turning the thing off.
I also noticed that he didn’t bother looking away himself as I started to scramble out of the canal, but by that stage I was too shocked and tired to make a fuss about it.
The cold of the water was catching up with me, and my teeth were starting to chatter.
I slowly hauled myself out of the canal, which took a lot more effort than I would have liked.
I could comfortably swim for hours in the public pool, so it was embarrassing that just a few metres in the canal had taken it out of me like this.
I decided to blame it on shock. I dragged myself onto the grass and flopped down trying to get my breath back, undoubtedly looking like a creature that had been washed ashore.
There was a pounding of footsteps, and a pair of sodden deck shoes arrived at my side.
I rolled over and looked up. For a moment I thought I was hallucinating and that Colin Firth aka Mr Darcy, wet shirt and all, had arrived to rescue me from my watery doom.
I blinked and wiped my eyes, my pulse quickening for reasons that had nothing to do with my recent immersion.
‘I grabbed the bow rope and tied it back to the mooring ring with a bowline. Liam, can you go and do the same with that stern rope?’ said Jack.
Liam did as he was told, although the thunderous expression on his face made it very clear that he wasn’t pleased about taking orders from Jack.