Maid Elizabeth

August 1939

“What will you do if there’s a war, Jack?” Beth seemed able to read his mind.
“Join up, I s’pose. My dad says the Navy’ll need proper sailors, just last time.”
“Will you be an Officer?”
“What me? Not a chance!”
“Why ever not, Jack? I bet you know as much about boats as anyone.”
“Oh, boats, yes. But it’s the other stuff. I think I’d be happier takin’ orders than giving ‘em. Anyway, I’m not eighteen ‘til next May. It might all be over be over ‘fore then,”

Beth looked at him carefully. Each year she had come with her parents on holiday and each year she had renewed her friendship with Jack. He had grown taller, his voice deeper and his chest and shoulders had broadened, year by year. He was more man now than boy. She tried to picture him at war but her mind, or perhaps her heart, would not let her. She felt that was silly. It wasn’t if they were lovers. They were friends. She thought he probably had a girlfriend from the town and felt a small pang of jealousy. She would soon be sixteen and quite grown up. Sometimes she wished that Jack would think of her like a girlfriend.

The boat was almost finished. The hull had been repaired and not one but three of the oaken ribs had had to be replaced. They had built a new interior from marine ply and fitted her out with new berth cushions and a gimballed paraffin stove paid for from Jack’s earnings from the fishing. Jack had cut and made a new mast and spars and, with the help of one of the sail makers, had cut and sewn new sails and canvas dodgers bearing the name ‘Maid Elizabeth’. Beth hadn’t seen these yet; they were a surprise. Now his mind was on the coming war. Everyone knew it was going to happen. That Churchill had been warning the country for years; only now were people taking notice.

Out in the bay these days were warships instead of pleasure craft and in the last week he had seen two great Battlecruisers, Repulse and Renown, he thought, forging westwards towards Plymouth with attendant destroyers. If war were coming he would be ready for it. He wouldn’t wait until he was called up. As soon as he was old enough he would catch the train to Plymouth and sign up at Devonport Navy Barracks. His Dad had fought in the last lot, had been in Warspite at Jutland, soon it would be his turn.

He came to himself and noticed Beth was very quiet. “You’re not worried about me, girl?” He tried to make it sound like a joke but it came out wrongly.
She tossed her head angrily. “Of course I am, silly! Fine friend I’d be if I wasn’t worried.”
“It could all blow over, like Czechoslovakia,” he said; but even to him it sounded unconvincing.
Beth frowned. “I don’t think so this time. I think we really ‘for it’ this time.”
“Well, then. We’d best get this boat in the water while there’s still time.”
Oh, Jack, is she really finished?”
“Pretty near. We’ll step the mast and rig her in the water. First we got to christen her, though.”
“A name! You’ve thought of a name at last!”
Jack grinned. “She’s had her name since 1936. Tomorrow we christen her. I mean I’d like you to do it, Beth, if you will?”
“Of course I’d love to, silly! What are you going to call her?”
“Maid Elizabeth, of course, silly!” And he roared with laughter at her stunned expression. “Couldn’t be nothin’ else, now could it?”

That last summer of peace slipped away all too swiftly. Jack and Beth sailed ‘Maid Elizabeth’, abbreviated between them to the ‘Maid’, every day they could. She proved a lively sailer, quick and responsive if somewhat wet. Jack made plans for some modifications to the cockpit coaming to counteract this, but these could wait. After nearly four years of hard work and patience, The ‘Maid’ was in her element at last.

As if reflecting the change, things between Beth and Jack were different, too. Jack found himself looking at her surreptitiously whenever he got the opportunity. She had certainly filled out. The skinny arms and legs were shapely and he couldn’t help notice how the front of her canvas sailing smock now bulged intriguingly. She was still a kid, he told himself, but he also had to acknowledge that she was a damn’ pretty one. Her light brown hair was streaked in places by the sun and her face and arms were tanned to a delightful honey brown.

This time when he saw off at the station, he was no longer awkward but hoped instead that the town boys would see him with this lovely young girl, whom, he’d just discovered, now inhabited the body of his friend.