One Day at Cap L’Aigle

                                   



We had punched through heavy ice from Cape Anguille NL to Forestville,
PQ, on the North Shore of the St. Lawrence, discharged some product
there and was now pumping off the remainder of the load at Cap-au-
L’aigle, before proceeding up river to Quebec City to load again. The
classic ennui of life on a product carrier in the Gulf of St. Lawrence
in the winter.



I turned in after breakfast, read for a while, and drifted off to
sleep. At ten hundred hrs. A rap came on my cabin door and the chief
stuck his head in saying “Get up, second, let’s ‘ead into town and see
what’s bloody going on! “



Well Graham wasn’t too bad a guy, so I thought I would accommodate him
and drag my carcass out of the sack and go with him. Besides, I hadn’t
been in Murray Bay since 1969., so it would be interesting to see what
changes if any, had occurred.



We went down the gangway and up to the office and asked the agent if he
could drive us into town. No problem; but like every Quebecois I have
ever driven with, he was anxious to impress with his driving edibility
and mores the performance of his car, ( A Chevy Nova with a 396 ci mill
under the hood.)



It’s about four miles from Cap A L’Aigle into Murray Bay, a very hilly
road with a lot of ess curves, Graham was in the back seat of the coupe,
and he only spoke once, in a small voice to ask how much farther.



The agent dropped us at the mall, and asked what time we wanted to be
picked up. It was agreed that he would return at 1230hrs. We strolled
down the mall and came to the lacquer store. We entered the hallowed
precincts of the same.



Graham took a cart------------ I felt that my purchases would not
warrant such capacity, and I walked over, pulled a forty ouncer of
alcohol off the shelf, told Graham I’ d meet him in the mall taverne,
and after a bit he arrived all laden with brown bags that clinked and
sloshed when he sat them down on one of the other two chairs at the
table. We was in our second beer when the agent showed up and gave us
another simulation of Le Mans, while going back to the ship.



When we got on board, we went to Graham’s cabin, sat back in the
leather arm chairs that made up some of the day room furniture. Graham
deposited he sloshing, clinking brown bags on his desk, looked at me and
said, “ I say old chap, lets have a drink before lunch.! “ I said I
concurred with his idea, and would head for the galley forthwith to
procure a jug of orange juice and some ice. By the time of my return,
Graham had his bar opened and two eight ounce tumblers sitting on the
coffee table. “ You  didn’t buy much, then did you;  What did you get.?? “



Well I told him that I had bought a forty of a local brew, and would he
like to have a drink of it. “ Oh yes, second, always game for a new
brew, wherever I go.!” So I passed him the bottle of alcool, hoping
against hope that he wouldn’t take it out of its  covert hiding place.
He obliged me by pulling the bag down over the neck and unscrewing the
cap. “ Pour yourself a good one Graham,” I said solicitously, and he
did; about three fingers of it.



I took the bottle and poured myself about half an ounce, we said
cheers, and laid ‘er back. Graham allowed it had some bite, but went
down well. “Have another one Graham,” I said, and I was gratified to see
him pour a third of a glass and top it up with OJ.



Well, by the time he got to the bottom of that one, he was pretty well
sloshed; “ I said, What did you get Chief,” indicating the bags on his
desk. “Oh, a little of this and that you know.”  “ Do you like gin, then
second.” ? I said yes, I could handle a drink of gin, if there was no
Capt. Morgan around. Graham rummaged round in the bags and came up with
a bottle of Beef Eater’s, from which I pour myself a good stiff drink.
Graham’s alcool was long gone so he took the gin and poured a good
triple, added the mix; took two sips, got up and bowed and asked if I
would excuse him; “ I’m feeling too well, you know; think I’ ll have a
little lay down.” 



I headed back to the galley to see if I could coerce the cook into
getting me some dinner. Graham went to bed. When I went on watch at
1600hrs, the door of his day room was open, and the bedroom door as
well, and I could see he was lying face down on the bunk with his feet
protruding over the end the bunk; toes toward the deck. When I came off
watch at 2000 hrs., nothing had changed; the toes still were pointed
downwards. I continued to my cabin, my heart filled with misgivings and
the awful thought that I had poisoned my Chief Engineer with good old
Quebec alcool.



The next morning when I went on watch, I saw that he had moved one
foot; an indication that he still lived and breathed. When I came up at
0800 hrs., his day room door was closed. He made an appearance at supper
that evening, as we were punching through heavy ice on our way to Quebec
City. Graham declared to the skipper and the other assembled officers
that I was a dangerous individual, and that no one should ever accept
any drink proffered by me unless it was coffee.



Graham and I got shifted to different ships, and when we would meet by
chance in St. John, he would never fail to mention that winter morning
at Cap-au-L’aigle