Captain Simon Brown - 1. Chapter 1

I clung on to the empty crate, my legs too tired to swim any more, as I drifted. I looked round to see several of my crew and some of the rescued girls that bobbed round me on their own piece of salvaged wood.

The sea was calmer now after the storm. Several times I had lost my grip, and several times I had struggled back to the surface in the choppy waters. The crate was of seasoned wood and bobbed effortlessly on top of the waves. I wondered if the young, pretty captive it once held had survived. It had been impossible to launch the skiffs. The ships roll onto its side had dashed any hopes of that.

Steamers had passed by and hadn’t noticed the many figures that bobbed in the waves. For two days we had struggled without food or water. We hoped against hope that we would be rescued.

I knew we were approximately eighty miles out from the coast of Montevideo. We were destined there on a mission. I had hidden several girls ready for the auctions. The first consignment I had received from my dear nephew James, in the hold.

The hurricane had hit my ship hard, her cargo of coal and bricks had shifted as she bounced on the huge waves. She had tipped onto her side first; luckily those few minutes had allowed my crew and the girls to escape. Then she had rolled over showing her keel before she sank into the murky depths.

My ship was no more. She was a three masted iron barque. And she had been mine for three years. Only recently had I returned back into the secret transport of girls. As a side-line to the regular, low paid cargo.

We had set sail from Newcastle, England on the 15^th August 1897 on our way to Buenos Ayres to deliver bricks and coal. And we would make a small detour to Montevideo to drop off the girls.

My crew had fought hard to try and empty the heavy cargo into the sea. It was an attempt to lighten the load, and keep the ship afloat. As was expected of me I left last. Every single crew member and girl from the hold had been given something to cling too. But once in the sea, it was fate, as to who lived and who perished.

Many had died already, either from the cruel sea, the lack of water, or lack of food.

~*~*~*~

I watched with sadness as another crew member lost his grip and slipped down into the water. It was hopeless to try and reach him.

And then I saw it, another steamer approached. It was closer than the others. Slightly off course from its regular shipping lane. The steamer SS Condor drew closer. I could now hear shouts and calls from the ship “man over board!” I tried to make out just how many of us were left as my fingers begin to slip. I had lost my grip again my fingers numb. I sank slowly under the waves.

Suddenly I was yanked upwards. I gasped loudly as my nose and then my lungs filled with air. I coughed and spluttered as I was pulled onto the skiff, by the Condor’s crew. I had survived.

~*~*~*~

Two whole months passed before we landed back on British soil. Nine out of a crew of thirty eight had survived, plus four out of ten girls. The girls had been snapped up in the small impromptu auction I had arranged. They would have brought more overseas, but this would be a small compensation for the loss of the others. I had to see James, and hope his temper wouldn’t be like the last time we met. I smirked to myself as I remembered the drunken games Conner Black and I had played. Poor James thought he could drink us under the table. Conner and I were seasoned drinkers, well used to being thrown out of the doors of some public house or other. But James was young, with plenty of time to catch up to the middle aged sots he called Unc. I wasn’t really his uncle; I may have been his father. But I would never let that slip.

It was time to leave the warm cosy comforts of my Newcastle residence. The landlady had too many children, but the food was good and the bed was clean. Conner would be here soon to take me to the Grange. James was busy with fixing up the old farm next door for me to stay. But only until my next ship landed. The sea was in my blood, it fired my veins. At the age of thirty six, I wasn’t ready to rest my sea legs yet.

In three months’ time I would master another ship the barque Albuera. The difference between my last ship SS Cuthbert and the Barque Albuera were immense. The next ship was a square rigged steel sailing ship. She had two decks; and three masts. And I was to captain her.

I stood and leaned in the doorway and looked out onto the bustle filled street. And then I grinned as a cart came into view. The huge hulk of a man grinned back and then slowed the horses, before he jumped down. His face as he walked towards me was one of mirth. He then hugged me so tight I thought I would pass out as he then slapped my shoulder,

“Simon fucking Brown you old sea dog! Good to see you, and mighty glad to be taking you home where you belong.” He grabbed my old kit bag and threw it in the back of the cart.

I shook my head as I followed him, “I won’t be staying Conner, not for too long any way.” I coughed as he slapped my back again.

“Well for as long as you’re with us then, and a happy drunken time will be had by all.” I laughed as I jumped up on the cart to sit beside him.

“Aye Conner Black, I’ll have a few drunken nights with you, and a toast to St Cuthbert, may she rest in peace.” We laughed together as the horse set off again across the cobbles. The journey to the Grange estate was a long one, but I was in good company. And I couldn’t wait to see young James Thomas, the lord of the Manor. The Master of the Grange Estate.

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