{"id":542,"date":"2020-02-25T23:02:49","date_gmt":"2020-02-25T23:02:49","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/gonbys.com\/?p=542"},"modified":"2020-02-25T23:02:49","modified_gmt":"2020-02-25T23:02:49","slug":"barcelona-1960","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/?p=542","title":{"rendered":"Barcelona, 1960"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

\u201cLower the main sails, me hearties,\u201d cried Captain Penn, once Jack Dudley spied land from the Crow\u2019s Nest, \u201cWe be on the Wild Coast, to be sure, and we all know why we be here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A cheer rose from the crew, though perhaps a less hearty one than you\u2019d have heard four days before, when the John Brant Brodie<\/em> set sail from Plymouth; though he had ably steered our ship and the rag-taggle band of landlubbers across the Bay of Biscay and through the Straits of Gibraltar, his pirate speak was starting to grate (after all, he had no difficulty conjugating the verb to be<\/em> when drinking in the Druid\u2019s Head \u2013 at least, no more difficulty than any other working class man of South Staffs.), and his behaviour on shore had been anything but exemplary. As I climbed the rigging with Jack Dudley and Elijah Phelps, I contemplated how lucky we were to have actually made it to Barcelona in time for what was arguably the biggest match in Wolves\u2019 history to date. As I did so, I looked down in pity at Geoff \u201cGibby\u201d Gilbert, whose job it had once been to climb the very ropes I now climbed. Perhaps “lucky” wasn’t quite le mot juste<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“\u2026show Poseidon who’s boss\u2026”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Our first port of call had been Caceiro, Galicia. Strong winds had carried usswiftly to Iberia, but it had also levied a heavy toll in sea-sickness \u2013 the sides of the John Brant Brodie <\/em>were so green she looked like an ancient wreck brought but recently to the surface. Weakened by the foregoing and expulsion of all sustenance during the journey so far, we were all keen to eat once the feel of steady land had settled our stomachs, but Captian Penn insisted we begin drinking straight away, \u201cIn order to show Poseidon who\u2019s boss.\u201d Cerberus, whom I\u2019d brought along as ship\u2019s mascot, growled a little at the invocation of his former master\u2019s brother, but I stroked him and gave a pork scratching to each of his heads, which he managed to keep down far better than the beef cheeks I\u2019d given him during the journey.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Captain Penn talked tough, but although he was the only one not to have brought up his last four meals en route from Devon, he proved to be the least suited to rum, and after the second round at Casa Antonio the owner passed him a mop and told him to leave as soon as the floor was clean. We wandered through the streets a little until we found a cosy tavern called the \u201cRuise\u00f1or\u201d, ate some paella and gave Penn plenty of bread to soak up the rum, but the calm was short-lived. Little ports like Caceiro change atmosphere in an instant, and talk of our captain\u2019s behaviour travelled along the streets faster than the lamplighters could illuminate them. Only the language skills of handsome Joey Briggs \u2013 who had fought on the Republican side in the Civil War \u2013 saved us from a salty beating, and I was extremely relieved to make it aboard without incident. I also hoped (somewhat na\u00efvely, as it turned out) that the forced truncation of our stay would speed up the journey.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRemember, me hearties: what happens in Tangers stays in Tangers!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At Porto, things were no better. Claiming to be well acquainted with the city (and apparently speaking fluent Portuguese) Penn led us all to a dark little bar near the waterfront where he challenged the owner of a mean-looking German Shepherd to a dogfight with the ship\u2019s mascot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCerberus will not be fighting!\u201d I said firmly, \u201cHe\u2019s a good natured thing, and supernatural, too. Wouldn\u2019t be fair on him or the Alsatian.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At this Penn stormed off in a mard and only rejoined the ship under police escort, Porto\u2019s welcome having lasted just under an hour longer than Caceiro\u2019s. Chimdy and I helped him to his cabin, and AB Alfie Newham took the helm as we lifted anchor and headed down the coast.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Our final stop was \u2013 according to the established itinerary \u2013 Gibraltar, but the increasingly-erratic Captain Penn announced that our ship would not be welcomed into a British Port while flying the wolf\u2019s head and crossbones. This seemed unlikely given that Harold \u201cChimdy\u201d Potts had designed the flag only a few weeks before, but \u2013 by now a little bit concerned about our captain\u2019s sanity \u2013 I nodded and went along with his decision to drop anchor in Tangiers instead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was the first time out of Europe for all but a couple of veterans of Monty\u2019s campaigns, and the sights and scents of the place, at once blurry and sharp to the senses, was intoxicating to even the most grounded amongst us. When travelling, it is a most normal and natural condition to wish to belong to a place you are visiting; life appears so strange and so other that you wish to know it inside out and take it on as a new appendage to your persona, as a man of the world. At once, though, I knew Morocco was different. This was a place to be viewed from a distance; this was the ideal place to be a cosseted tourist, safe behind the skirts of a guide or the high walls of an embassy. Danger, of course, was part of its intoxication, but the problem with danger as an intoxicant is that it is so difficult to control the dose.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If Captain Penn sensed any danger he certainly didn\u2019t show it, or perhaps he was so habituated to it that he craved as large a dose as possible. He began by ordering us to unload crates stored at the galley that I had assumed were supplies for the journey but proved to be contraband. The prices for these goods appeared to be extremely unstable, and heated discussions in Arabic continued until Captain Penn unsheathed a rapier and his customers a number of pistols. This speeded negotiations up a great deal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Though apparently disgruntled by the terms of his transaction, Penn soon changed his aspect and urged us to explore the nightlife as fully as possible. \u201cRemember, me hearties: what happens in Tangers stays in Tangers!\u201d he called, while also ordering me to get the ship\u2019s mascot from the poop deck. \u201cAnd clean up the poop while you\u2019re at it!\u201d he snapped. It was clear he aimed to get little Cerberus involved in a fight, no doubt hoping to recoup some of his lost profits with wagers. Of course, I refused as I had in Porto.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t refuse!\u201d shouted Penn, \u201cIt\u2019s in the ship\u2019s articles!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t refuse!\u201d shouted Penn, \u201cIt\u2019s in the ship\u2019s articles!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat are you talking about?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2018The ship\u2019s mascot shall be at the disposition of the Captain for all recreational purposes including walking, fetch and vicious fighting with animals of and not of its own kind.\u2019 Article Twenty-One.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had not read the ship\u2019s articles, having assumed the ceremony by which we swore to them over crossed swords was just a lark.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCerberus isn\u2019t the ship\u2019s mascot,\u201d I improvised. \u201cI never said he was ship\u2019s mascot.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cArticle Twenty-Two,\u201d recited Penn, \u201c\u2018Any pet brought on board by any member of the crew may be named ship\u2019s mascot by the Captain.\u2019 I name him ship\u2019s mascot. Now go get him,\u201d he was brandishing his sword by now in a threatening manner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut he\u2019s not a pet\u2026, he\u2019s more like a member of the family…\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNice try, Gonby. Get the mascot and let\u2019s get to the Medina.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fifteen minutes later we were making our way into the medina, swords drawn and surrounded by hustlers and faux guides, \u201cO\u00f9 a<\/em>s-<\/em>tu trouv\u00e9 cette b<\/em>\u00ea<\/em>te, mon ami?<\/em>\u201d \u201cSe lo compro, amigo, <\/em>\u00a1<\/em>muchas pesetas!<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGet away!\u201d shouted Captain Penn, to little effect.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Captain appeared to know his way around the Medina, but the appearance soon waned. As my suspicions grew that we were lost, a plan began to formulate itself in my head, and, after recognizing a partially-subterranean cigarette stall for the third time, I whispered my plan to Jack and Chimdy. On the count of three we took a sharp left at speed, followed by three rights. Shouts of \u201cGonby! Come back here!\u201d faded and we were free of our captain and the rest of the crew, but not of faux guides.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll give you five shillings to lead us out of here,\u201d I said to the tallest one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll give me fifty pounds,\u201d he said. \u201cPlus whatever else you have!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We ran again, Jack and Chimdy following me around random corners, and over a fruit stall, the oranges and watermelons rolling towards our pursuers, slowing them down. We now had the greengrocers to dodge as well though. Angry guttural shouts rang through the labyrinth, rousing drowsy sellers from their seats in the narrow passageways, who would block our way until shooed with a flashing sabre. Rebab music sped up as we passed, and oboes played dizzy, circular themes. A hawker called us into his shop and we accepted the refuge. He kept us there for an hour, peddling aphrodisiacs and get-rich potions until we paid him for nothing, downed our mint teas and left; at the doorway, the thieves met us, but an exhausted Cerberus was finally losing his temper. With a unison roar, his three heads reared up and opened their mouths. Wider and wider the mouths became until they were capable of holding a human being, and that\u2019s what each of them did. The thieves that hadn\u2019t been gobbled up fled in screaming fear, and Cerberus shook his heads for twenty seconds and then spat the men high into the air.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood boy,\u201d I said, and gave him three pork scratchings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood boy,\u201d I said, and gave him three pork scratchings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A local child had been watching these events, with dark, darting eyes and a poker player\u2019s mouth. He approached the dog and showed his hand, looking to me. I nodded, and he rubbed each of Cerby\u2019s heads.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCan you show us out?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The boy stopped fussing the dog and shrugged his shoulders.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLe port, le port…<\/em>\u201d said Chimdy. This he grasped and led us on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Outside the Medina, in the starrier, more modern air of the outer city, I gave the boy a pound and let him have a last fuss of Cerby. At Chimdy\u2019s beckoning, however, I was soon staring back whence we\u2019d come, and whence Captain Penn now emerged with the rest of the crew, all pouring with blood, with Elijah Phelps carrying Gibby on his back. And they weren\u2019t hanging around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Once on board the John Brant Brodie<\/em>, we lifted anchor and began sailing north-east, barely able to hoist and unfurl with the shock.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Once through the Straits of Gibraltar, we assessed the damage. Jake Cleaver, the ship\u2019s doctor, assessed Gibby and announced that he would need to amputate; \u201cChippy\u201d Noakes immediately began began fashioning a prosthetic from one of the chairs at the captain\u2019s dining table. Phelps had lost an eye, and after getting Chimdy to thread a needle for him, fashioned an eye patch from a the chair\u2019s upholstery.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

\u25a1 \u25a1 \u25a1 \u25a1 \u25a1<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And so it was that we docked in Barcelona, off-loaded more contraband, and headed through the bustling streets full of tramcars, beggars and petty criminals, to the dazzling Nou Camp via a couple of pleasant caf\u00e9-bars, and awaited the first whistle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCome on me hearties!\u201d shouted Captain Penn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCome on me babbies!\u201d shouted I.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And we watched as the Club de F\u00fatbol Barcelona take apart our beloved double champions of England, with quick feet, quick passes and a very quick goal. In hindsight, one might look back and point out those eight minutes before Villaverde\u2019s opener as Wolves\u2019 peak: still in the European Cup, and on course for a third successive league Championship, and the first League and Cup double of the modern era. You might imagine that we looked each other in the eye (or eyes, in the case of everyone but Elijah Phelps) and thought, \u201cThis is the end of an era,\u201d or something weighty like that, as the goals kept going in, and our players looked tireder and tireder, and older and more outdated. But all that was really on our minds was sailing to Liverpool in time for the Everton game the next Saturday, without any more amputations or threats of deportation. That, and picking up some tasty morsels on the way to the John Brant Brodie<\/em>, with which to treat each of Cerberus\u2019 sweet little heads.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

High jinks on the high seas with the erratic Captain Penn? Hide the Bacardi, for the love of Neptune!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":543,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[13,33,51,57,83,121,122],"class_list":["post-542","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-barca","tag-cerberus","tag-football","tag-humour","tag-pirates","tag-wolverhampton-wanderers","tag-wolves"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/542","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=542"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/542\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=542"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=542"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=542"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}