CHAPTER FORTY
Soyo was always a bustling hive of activity, but today many came to see a spectacle never before observed. The Ghost sat next to the Angelina at the loading dock in Soyo. Their appearance was as far apart as the lives of the people who had inspired them yet their silhouettes were the same. Bongo prepared the Ghost for sea with all available crew from her original voyages. Many of One to Ten were missing, presumed lost in their quest of taking freedom to the lands of the slave. But Fial McMurrin had been missing for some time presumed lost in his quest, so one could not be sure.
Will and his father had visited the Mama Queen and Will thanked her for his protection while finding his father. Fial spoke to Mama Queen in her own tongue and she passed a small bag to Fial. Will noticed his father was deeply moved as he clutched it in the palm of his hand.
They left and whilst crossing the rope bridge Fial stopped and looked down at the children playing in the river. His face saddened; a young boy no more than ten years old played a strange instrument in a muddy pool next to the river, blowing and sucking the wooden object in his hands. Will’s way was blocked by his father.
"Dad are you okay?" asked Will.
Fial stared at the boy in the muddy pool. "That boy has suffered more than you would imagine. He was brought in by a war party from deep in the river jungle, they told a story of him I could not picture. There are so many like him I am sad to leave."
Will looked and listened to the boy. "What is that thing he is playing? I never heard music like that."
"The sheng, many found their way here from Chinese pirate ships taken in battle. Blow air into one and it makes a sound."
"Sounds sad."
"Muddy Waters we call him. Must come from inside him. When a China man plays one of those things it sounds different, nothing like the feeling inside young Muddy."
Will saw sadness and despair in his father’s face. "Take him with us dad."
Fial looked at his son, then back at Muddy. "It would be hard for Muddy to live in another world – he's used to being dressed as he is."
"Dressed in red?"
"His tribe lived in the red clay areas next to the river, their warriors covered themselves in the clay so they could not be seen when attacking their enemies. They were helping us to catch some slave traders working way up river in the red lands."
"What happened?"
"Heavy rain boy, washed them clean, we lost them all. They found their village and wiped them out. We got there a few hours too late. Muddy was the only one left hiding in a puddle of muddy water. He saw it all. At least I was spared that outcome when my tribe was lost."
Will shouted to the boy and beckoned with his hand. "Muddy!"
The boy stopped playing and looked up; Fial also beckoned the boy with a hand gesture. They took the boy with them and discussed his future with Bongo. Bongo was reluctant to part with the boy and needed time to think about it as they made final preparations for the Ghost to sail.
As the loading plank was about to be stowed and the mooring ropes untied providence prevailed. Into Soyo harbour sailed the Philadelphia Queen, a regular trader with the port. An American crew member from the Angelina was Captain Lance Talbot, formerly a crew member of the Philadelphia Queen, employee of Clinton Adams who was the owner of the Philadelphia Queen and the Washington Import company. The Philadelphia Queen had taken cabin boy Berry from the Ghost years before while Talbot served on the ship. Early reports of the boy had indicated he had done well, being a hard-working lad. It was some years since they had news of Berry so departure was delayed to acquire information to help Bongo make a decision.
Not all the information was good as a gathering of the Ghost crew members heard of Berry, now a young man. The Philadelphia Queen had just come from New Orleans where it was known Berry had been sent to a farming operation in St Louis Missouri owned by the Washington Import company. Tavern stories from blacks working on river barges along the Mississippi river told of Berry's mother’s cooking being popular in St Louis to the point she cooked for boss men in stately homes and the workers missed her culinary talents. Berry had married a girl that worked with his mother as a kitchen hand. He played music in taverns around St Louis and had a family. Although Berry had found a calling it was thwarted by conflict brought on by alcohol addiction, with fights and bloodshed being commonplace where the infectious music of Berry's banjo band played. This was developing as a culture of its own with the music spreading along river communities with womanising and alcohol abuse.
McGee and Cameron, summoned to again man the Ghost, listened with interest. McGee whispered to Cameron alongside him after processing the statements. "Would you believe that? They have towns like Dublin and Belfast in America?"
"I was thinking the same thing myself," whispered Cameron.
Fial and Bongo discussed the boy. It was decided regardless of the mentioned setbacks common in the British Empire Berry had survived and multiplied, setting foundations for future. A God-given talent guided his path; this could just happen to Muddy. Songs of sadness may just be a colour of the future when carried across the deep, blue sea. Fial agreed to write a letter to Clinton Adams asking that Muddy go to the same area as Berry. Lance Talbot agreed to take the letter to Adams and escort Muddy to the Mississippi area, giving his God-given talent a chance. Muddy was passed to Talbot to find his future; he clutched his reeded instrument in his hand. Fial knelt next to him and handed him the small bag the Mama Queen had given him, Muddy grasped it with his free hand, smiling and lowering his head.
"What is that you gave him?" asked Will.
"A mojo, most powerful vodun magic. It protects whoever holds it from evil spirits. Mama Queen gave it to me just now and told me to use it wisely. I think Muddy needs it more than me. He knows what it is and won't waste it."
Rumours and stories crept through Soyo and a crowd began to gather at the dock. Emotions were high and the gathered were silent as the Ghost put to sail captained by Bongo. Fial looked at the Angelina as she faded from sight; he had aged but his memories of Angelina had not.
The Ghost had not long been dry-docked and her hull lined with polished copper plate to protect her from the sea worm attacking her hull as she sat idle. She put to full sail and passed by the menacing giant the Conquistador, towering above them, the symbol of power that patrolled the river mouth. Her crew lined the ramparts and railings, the Irish ensign was raised to her highest point above the crow’s nest and every cannon of all the warships of the fleet in harbour thundered across the water shrouding the port in smoke.
After the cannon rally the crowd was deadly silent. Fial looked back from the stern of the Ghost as she flew across the waves. Will, standing next to his father again, saw the pain in his father’s face.
"Have I done something we will regret?" asked Will.
Fial looked into the swirling water behind the Ghost. "No boy, I gave an order some years ago that the cannon on the fleet would never be fired again unless negotiation was beyond salvation. I know these people well; every gun has been fired in defiance of my leaving. It's out of their control by negotiation. I humbly acknowledge their love."
"You won father; they will be free. I promise what you have started will be finished."
"The war is over son, the fight has just started. Now, tell me about these new-fangled steam engines. I hear they have the power of all the winds."
"Horses dad, they are rated in horses."
"Horses on the sea, bless my soul I live to see it."
"I have plans, a steel ship like the Ghost powered by steam boiled with coal. Twenty-five knots day or night, wind or no wind."
"Twenty-five knots boy, shiver my timbers. If she is steel how does she not sink with all the weight?"
"Bulkheads dad."
"Bulkheads?"
"Aye, parts of the hull full of air, watertight, keeping her afloat."
"How far could she go?"
"You draw your water from the sea for the steam engines. I have calc
ulated that with a full hold of coal we could make the coast of America from Cork."
Fial looked blank. "Is this a story son?"
Will chuckled. "No, dad."
"Have you tried one of these things?"
"No I was needing to talk to you about some things first, I need your mind. You can tell me things that will minimise the risk of failure. Building this ship will be very expensive."
"Have we enough money in the chest? For I have what you see me dressed in here."
Will laughed. "The British navy want to be paying for it dad… and I've met this lady I was needing to talk to you about."
"A lady, indeed, we’ll get to that, now the bit about the British navy paying."
"Aye, Mansfield sent me to see a man called Claremont. We met while I was looking for the Angelina in Plymouth. I showed him some plans; we have sold some engines to the navy. A lot of people are working on this kind of thing and Claremont liked what he heard. They would pay for a prototype to test and give us a contract to build if we are successful."
"Mmm. Now boy, I'll help with the ship but while we build it we need find someone who can make a gun that will sink it beyond the range of any other gun."
"Why, no one has a gun to sink a ship like that. Cannon cannot penetrate steel as thick as we need to build the ship."
"Wilberforce spoke of things like this. An industrial revolution he called it. If we can build ships like this then so can our enemy. If we have a gun that can sink them before they sail and mount it on our ship we have a mighty sword. I would not wish it upon anyone to fight with a dagger as I first did."
"You have solved a problem before it's a risk. That's what I was talking about. I need your mind for things I can't see."
"I attacked the British with their own ideas. Francis Drake wrote down his plans but the stupid, pompous idiots in charge refused to acknowledge them. I saw for myself he was right."
"Drake, I read about him. Now as I remember the stories of you I hear have an echo."
"The steel covers were my idea, without it we would have failed. I would have been dead long ago, shot from above like Nelson at Trafalgar. This all makes sense. Come below boy I want to hear more, especially the bit about the British paying the bills. That I like." They walked toward the galley of the Ghost arm in arm. "This woman you speak of, tell me more."
"Oh Jasmine, the fairest maiden I have ever seen. Jet-black hair way down her back; her eyes are two colours. She's buxom; taunts me with her cleavage then turns, tossing her hair in my face. She likes cats, dogs, pigs and cows. I love her dad but I don't know if she loves me."
"Have you not told her how you feel and asked her yourself?"
Will hesitated as they reached the top of the stairs, thinking with a blank look. "No I haven't, you are full of good advice. I knew I’d get direction from you dad. Hey, I can introduce my father to her. I can see it now. Jasmine, I’d like you to meet my father, Fial McMurrin direct from the Ghost."
Fial raised his eyebrows. "Does she know I'm your father?"
"No, I've not mentioned it. I was keeping it as a surprise if I could find you."
"Good because she's in love with you, not me."
"You think so."
"I know so."
"I'm not sure if she has child-bearing hips, I think that's important from what I've been reading."
Fial looked wide-eyed and shook his head briefly. "From what you've told me of her son she'll have child bearing hips in a very short space of time."
"I can't tell, I'm not a doctor."
Fial looked blank and was silent for a while. "Can we talk about this later in private son?"
"Yes dad."
"Now get below we have a lot to talk about. Can I hear that bit about the British paying again please? I like that."
Cameron and McGee had been in earshot at the stern of the ship next to Bongo at the helm when Fial and Will had discussed steel ships and guns. They had stood in silence, with Bongo between them looking over the stern at the horizon but the strain became too much for McGee.
"When Fial had that shaking fever years back Bongo do you think it damaged his brain?" asked McGee.
Bongo frowned looking at McGee. "Mama Queen fix shaking fever. Bwana Fial okay."
"Ronan you heard with your own ears he was wanting to sink a steel ship before it was even launched."
"Will makes engines with the strength of loads of horses, maybe he can make a ship of steel float. I heard him say about bulkheads full of air. I'm not sure what he's on about but I think you can. I dropped a big metal pot from a Chinese ship once because it was so heavy three men could not hold it up to put it on the Ghost. It floated away way into the distance; it never sank," replied Cameron.
"Chinese – they’re damn clever ya know, wouldn't surprise me if they were growing metal trees that could float," said McGee.
Bongo raised his eyebrows looking at Cameron who rubbed his face in his hands and shook his head. "Will you be going back to Kerry when ya get home Hainan?" asked Cameron.
"I will, home is where the heart is and a Kerry man I will always be."
"Will ya be testing that ship for Fial when it's ready?"
"What the steel one?"
"Aye."
McGee thought for a while. "I’d like to see it floating before I got on it."
"I know Fial McMurrin and I bet you a gold guinea that steel ship floats and has a gun that can sink one of its kind."
"You haven't paid me from the last bet we had about not killing more than one man when we first came to Soyo years back."
"I can't find anyone who was with you all day, when I have the evidence I'll be paying ya."
"I have not killed a man on that day nor any day since, won't you take my word for it as the Lord is my witness?"
The Ghost pounded on as they stood in silence for a while. "We’ll buy each other the finest Irish whisky in Cork and forget about it," said Cameron.
"Done," said McGee.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Epitaph
Time outlasts all living things and it outlasted Fial McMurrin, for legends live in stories. Some leave historical writings of their lives, some good and others bad. To this very day we can read of Napoleon Bonaparte, Lord Nelson and the first Duke of Wellington. We can reflect on the prophecy of William Wilberforce as indeed there was an industrial revolution and the black man of Africa was freed. But we read nothing of the life of Fial McMurrin. The steel ship with a big gun did float and become the most powerful symbol of the modern world, stopping more wars than it was forced to fight. People learnt to fly so well and in such great numbers they could hear the stories of Fial McMurrin from the sailors of Ireland themselves.
Should you visit the fair land of Ireland in the corner of a tavern you may be told of the legend of the Leprechaun, causing mischief, making shoes and counting his gold.
Or you may just hear of the last pirate to sail the seas, an Irish patriot, fearless and determined. Stricken but healed by time, life and destiny. You may hear of a black ship sailed by African slaves who delivered a god back to the shores of his home as he had delivered them back to theirs. Some claim to have seen a black ship in the misty backwaters of the Congo River; the natives call her the Ghost. They tell a story of a ship of death left to the jungle that rotted into the waters and mud of the land and is now part of all that lives there. The voodoo priestess can summon her mojo; she is the bringer of death and disease to all who threaten her resting place. You may be told of the wind in Bantry Bay carrying the sound of a gunfire that could pierce steel fired from an unsinkable ship manned by an old pirate and his son as it returned from America. You may be told of an Irish politician from Cork busy fighting for freedom and building ships to preserve it. You may hear of an elderly man found by his grandsons when he failed to return from a fishing trip next to an old hollow tree above the rocks near the crashing waves of Whiddy Island, Bantry Bay. It is rumoured his buried treasure still remains, untouched, for his we
alth was love. He had a smile on his face under his long beard; they say he died of happiness. You may hear his body was placed on a beautiful, white ship that came from the east with the name of an angel and burnt in the open waters of the bay while a chosen few watched in silence. Sailors say if you listen hard enough you can hear the wind sing through her sails.
We cannot be sure if the actions of Fial McMurrin were directly responsible for establishing and preserving the bloodline of blues or rock and roll. Was it he who had fleeting encounters with the past relatives of world champions setting the path of their destiny? Maybe his efforts supported the one slave persecuted beyond redemption whose family rose to the highest office in the world and said yes we can. Maybe it's the luck of the Irish that made his story an unwritten legend, or maybe it's just the power of dreams and the Irish spirit.
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