by Val Wood
Nan nibbled on her fingers, and then took a sip of tea. ‘Not Harry,’ she said. ‘He’d never manage that, but Billy Norman could. He’s a ship’s carpenter. It’ll be no trouble to him.’ She heaved a sigh and took another drink. ‘I’ll ask him when I see him. Good,’ she murmured. ‘Mebbe things won’t be so bad after all.’
‘I hope not,’ Jeannie said. ‘I’ll pull my weight. I shan’t expect you to keep me. Is there much work for women? On the nets, I mean.’
‘For them as are good, yes,’ Nan said, adding, ‘You can work wi’ me. That’ll be for ’best, then ’other women will know you belong. Everybody knows everybody else on Hessle Road. Fisher folk are like one big family.’
Jeannie nodded. ‘Just like at Scarborough then. And Harry,’ she said hesitantly, not wanting to be disloyal, but wanting the truth. ‘Has he got work?’
Nan pursed her mouth. ‘Not at ’minute, he hasn’t. But he’ll have to find some, especially wi’ a bairn coming.’
‘Yes,’ Jeannie murmured. ‘It’ll be an incentive, won’t it?’
Nan glanced at her. ‘Let’s hope so.’
It was Sunday and Nan put on her grey bonnet and the same black skirt and coat as she wore for the wedding, and went off to chapel. She asked Jeannie if she’d like to go with her, but she said she’d wait for Harry to get up and maybe they’d take a walk. It was a bright sunny day and she felt that she’d like to have some fresh air and have a look round the area which was now her home.
But at almost midday he was still in bed, so she climbed the stairs and went to waken him. He woke with a start and for a second he looked at her as if he didn’t know her. Then he reached out and grabbed her, pulling her into bed with him. She didn’t object, for he looked tousled and endearing, and he smothered her with kisses and lifted her skirt just as she heard the scullery door open.
‘Nan’s back,’ she said in an urgent whisper. ‘She’ll be coming up to get changed.’
‘Still got time,’ he grunted. ‘Come on, be quick.’
And so once more she felt downhearted and dissatisfied and as she smoothed down her clothes and turned away she asked him, ‘Why did you marry me, Harry?’
He gave a grin and stretched. ‘Why d’ya think? It’s great bein’ married.’
She hesitated and looked down at him as she heard Nan’s feet on the stairs. He doesn’t love me as I love him, she thought. He was charming and persistent and I was willing. Would we be married now if I’d refused him back in March? Somehow she doubted it. I’ll make him love me, she thought. He must. Maybe once the baby is born things will be different.
She gave a little shrug at Nan as she came up on to the top step. ‘He’s a slug-a-bed,’ she told her. ‘I think we’re going to have to tip him out.’
‘Aye, I reckon so. Get a bowl o’ cold water. That’ll fetch him out.’
Harry yelled and sprang out of bed, his nightshirt flapping, and dashed into the other bedroom, and for the first time Jeannie saw an indulgent half-smile on Nan’s face.
Before she had left for chapel Nan had put mutton chops and onions in the side oven, and when she opened the oven door to check on them the aroma filled the house. She asked Jeannie to scrub some potatoes and carrots whilst she beat up a bowl of batter for Yorkshire pudding, and in under an hour they were sitting down to eat.
‘Go down ’dockside and show your wife ’fishing fleet,’ Nan told Harry. ‘And look for Billy Norman. We want a frame putting up in ’yard.’
Harry took a mouthful of food and chewed before asking, ‘What sort o’ frame?’
‘For hanging nets on, o’ course, what do you think?’ Nan glared at him. ‘Somebody’s got to work to pay ’rent.’
‘Yeh, righto,’ he said, quite unperturbed by the jibe intended for him. ‘He’ll be sailing tomorrow, though. Mightn’t be able to do it straight away.’
‘Ask him,’ she said tersely. ‘Don’t forget. Go and ask his ma where he is, and if he’s in ’pub then turf him out.’
Jeannie glanced at her. She looked very fierce, but Harry seemed not in the least concerned. Was she all shout and yet as soft as butter with Harry?
She put on her shawl when they left the house, as much to hide her pregnancy as because she was cold. Harry put his arm round her waist and kissed her cheek once they were out of the terrace and she smiled at him. Maybe things were going to be all right.
They went to another terrace and down a side passage where Harry lifted the sneck of a yard gate and then knocked on a scullery door. A small woman with grey hair under a bonnet answered.
‘Is Billy in, Mrs Norman?’ Harry asked politely. ‘I need to ask him summat.’
‘That’s a daft question; course he’s not. He’s sailing tomorrow, isn’t he?’
Harry nodded. ‘Where is he? ’Criterion? ’Wassand Arms?’
‘How would I know? Try ’Wassand, that’s his usual.’ She looked hard at Harry. ‘Got any work yet?’
‘Not yet,’ he said, and then added confidently, ‘Got a few contacts though. Lookin’ good.’
She twisted her mouth wryly. ‘Oh aye. This your new missis?’
‘Yeh.’ Harry drew Jeannie near. ‘This is Jeannie. She’s from Scarborough.’
Mrs Norman nodded. ‘I heard. How do,’ she said to Jeannie. ‘Hope it works out all right for you. When are you due?’
Jeannie took a breath. How quickly word gets around. ‘Not for a bit,’ she said weakly.
‘Right. Well if you need me for owt, let me know. Nan Carr knows me. I do midwifery.’
‘Thank you,’ Jeannie murmured, suddenly realizing that she hadn’t given a thought to the actual birth. Suddenly she wanted her mother. She had only been married a day and she was missing her already. But she’s not here, she thought as they walked back down the terrace. It’s just me and Harry, and Nan.
They trawled several pubs on Hessle Road before they found Billy, and each time Harry asked her to wait outside whilst he went in and each time, when he came back out, she knew he had had a drink. At the last location, Jeannie stood outside waiting until finally an older man touched his cap to her as he was about to go inside and she plucked up courage to speak.
‘Excuse me,’ she began. ‘Do you know Harry Carr or Billy Norman?’
‘I do,’ he said. ‘I know ’em both.’
‘Then could you ask Harry to come outside, please?’ she said nervously. ‘I’m his wife.’
‘Ah!’ The man gazed at her and a beaming smile lit his weathered face. ‘I heard as he’d married a Scarborough lass. Nice to meet you. I’ll get him right away.’ He tipped his cap again and went inside and within five minutes both Harry and Billy came out.
Harry’s face was flushed. ‘I’ve just been doin’ a bit o’ business, Jeannie. Work, you know.’ He gave a wink. ‘Summat might come of it.’
‘Oh, good,’ Jeannie said on a breath. ‘I do hope so. Hello, Billy. Did Harry ask you about fixing up a frame? For net mending?’
Billy looked at Harry. ‘No,’ he said. ‘When? I’m sailing tomorrow.’
‘Today?’
‘It’s Sunday,’ he said. ‘Nan won’t allow it, will she?’
Jeannie thought about Nan going off to chapel early this morning and took a chance. ‘Yes, I think so. Can you make it somewhere and just come and fix it in place tonight?’
‘Aye, I reckon so.’ He glanced at Harry, who shrugged.
‘How much will it cost?’ Jeannie asked cautiously.
‘Well, nowt for mekking,’ he said. ‘And I might be able to scrounge a bit o’ wood. Where do you want it?’ Again he looked at Harry. ‘In ’yard?’
‘Yes,’ Jeannie said emphatically. ‘In ’yard.’
They left Billy and continued along the road, stopping from time to time as Harry spoke to people and introduced Jeannie, and then crossed over and cut down another which brought them out close by the Albert Dock.
‘We’ll start here,’ he said. ‘This was ’first dock on Hessle Road, though not ’f
irst in Hull. First one in Hull was ’New Dock, though now it’s called Queen’s Dock after ’queen, then there’s ’Humber Dock and Princes Dock, Railway Dock and Victoria Dock.’
‘Heavens!’ Jeannie exclaimed. ‘I didn’t realize that Hull was so big, though Ethan once said—’ She stopped, suddenly confused, and Harry immediately picked her up on it.
‘Is he the chap we met that day?’
‘Yes. He’s a friend. He’s a fisherman too. He used to come down to Hull sometimes with the herring.’
‘Mm,’ Harry said. ‘Has he got his own boat?’
‘Part shares, I think.’ She was reluctant to talk about Ethan, but Harry probed.
‘How come? He’s onny about my age, if not younger.’
‘His father part-owned a smack, but they didn’t go out together. In case of accidents, you know. Ethan was nearly drowned in a storm eight years ago. His brother was lost overboard.’
She mused on that day; she could remember it so clearly. Both she and Tom had been badly shocked by it.
‘Still don’t explain how he comes to own shares,’ Harry persisted.
‘I don’t know,’ she said, though she knew that Ethan had worked hard towards it. ‘He never told me. It’s a smack,’ she added, ‘nothing big,’ as if that explained it.
‘They’re about finished,’ Harry muttered. ‘Steam trawling is tekkin’ over. Anyway, this is Albert. It was named after ’Prince of Wales.’ They came to the Albert Dock, built alongside the Humber foreshore, and then walked along towards the William Wright Dock adjacent to it; she was overwhelmed by the sheer size of the waterway and the amount of shipping in both docks.
‘This is nowt compared to St Andrew’s,’ he said. ‘Wait till you see that.’
Jeannie was beginning to tire by the time they reached St Andrew’s Dock, which Harry said had only been completed five years before. ‘This dock’ll tek over five hundred ships. Biggest in ’country, I reckon.’
‘I’ll have to stop for a minute,’ she said, and went to rest on a bollard whilst she got her breath back.
‘You said to me once, Harry, that there was always work for a fisherman in Hull.’
He glanced warily at her. ‘Did I?’
‘Yes, you did.’ She had to know, and he would only tell her if she asked why he wasn’t working. ‘This is so huge,’ she said, looking about her. ‘But will there be work for me on the nets? I can’t mend the trawl nets, they’re far too big.’
‘There are still some smaller craft,’ he acknowledged. ‘And there’s still line fishing.’
‘Ah,’ she said. ‘So that’s all right. But what about you, Harry?’ She looked up at him. ‘Why is it that you don’t have any work?’
His expression set and she couldn’t tell if her question had angered him or not.
‘I’m your wife, Harry.’ She reached up to touch his arm, but he pulled away from her. ‘I need to know,’ she pleaded. ‘I need to know what’s in front of us.’
‘I’ll tell you what’s in front of us,’ he said bitterly. ‘Penury. I can’t get work because I’ve been blackballed. That’s what. Nobody will tek me on.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
‘BLACKBALLED! WHY?’ JEANNIE was horrified. Whatever had he done to have been given such a punishment?
‘Don’t want to talk about it,’ he muttered.
‘But we must,’ Jeannie said. ‘For how long?’
Harry stared straight ahead across the dock. ‘Since ages ago.’
‘No, I mean, when will it be lifted? How are you expected to earn a living?’
He shrugged but said nothing.
‘Harry!’ she said. ‘Please. We have to talk about it. Does Nan know?’
‘Course she knows! Everybody knows.’
‘Everybody but me!’ Jeannie said. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
He turned and looked at her. ‘I didn’t need to tell you,’ he said sharply. ‘I’d hardly tell a lass I’d just met that I hadn’t got a job, now would I? Why else would I have ’time to be gallivanting round Scarborough?’
‘But Billy was with you, and another friend.’ She searched his face for the truth. ‘How was it that they had time off?’
‘Because they were waiting on a ship, like I told you I was – except I wasn’t.’ His face took on a petulant look. ‘I didn’t have a ship to go back to; and you needn’t look at me like that. I didn’t think that it mattered at ’time.’
She let the remark slowly sink in. ‘And the next time you came? Did that not matter either?’
He hesitated for a moment. ‘Well, I was on me own. All my pals had gone off and I was at a loose end; and I got to thinking about you.’
Jeannie took a deep breath and then swallowed hard. Had she been a complete fool? ‘And?’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I wondered if you’d still be there by ’harbour and that it’d be nice to see you again, so I borrowed some money from Nan. Told her I had a job in ’offing and jumped on ’first train.’ He put his arm round her shoulder. ‘I wanted to see you again, Jeannie. I mean that. I hadn’t met anybody else that I was tekken with as much as you.’
She nodded. He had seemed fond of her, it was true; but was it because he was frustrated because he had no work? Maybe none of the Hull girls he knew would have anything to do with him because he hadn’t any prospects.
‘So why were you blackballed?’ she asked. ‘You have to tell me now.’
‘Let’s walk then, and I’ll tell you.’
He took her arm and she felt oddly comforted. ‘My da was a skipper and he got me apprenticed,’ he began. ‘And I was all right with him. Some of ’skippers treated ’apprentices like scum. We lived wi’ Nan, me da and me, after Ma left and our Rosie went to live wi’ Auntie Dot. Then, five years ago, we’d just got back from a trip when Da was asked to skipper a smack. Money was a bit scarce so he went. He went to ’Dogger Bank wi’ a fleet and a gale sprang up.’
Harry pressed his lips together and his voice was choked when he went on. ‘Twenty-six smacks were lost, including ’one that my da was on. I was gutted. We were such pals, me and him, an’ I didn’t think I wanted to go on wi’ fishing. I was scared, for one thing. I didn’t want to die, an’ if anybody tells you that they’re not scared o’ goin’ overboard then they’re liars, cos everybody is. Especially ’young lads that get ’rough end of everybody.’
Jeannie squeezed his hand, remembering the tragic storm of eight years before and how affected everyone in Scarborough had been, especially Ethan.
‘It’s a hard trade,’ she murmured. ‘I know only too well.’
‘But I started drinking,’ he went on. ‘I was sixteen when me da was took and somebody took me to an alehouse to give me some Dutch courage to sail again. Da never drank afore he went on a trip. He allus said you needed your wits about you, not have them addled by ale. Not that it did him any good. He’d have been as sober as a monk but he still went down wi’ his ship.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Jeannie said. ‘So – is that why …’
He took a deep breath. ‘I finished my indentures last year when I turned twenty-one. My da’s pal Bob had tekken me on to finish ’em and he turned a blind eye to my drinking. He was a bit of a drinker himself was Bob. Not like my da.’
They stopped again to allow Jeannie to rest. She couldn’t tell whether it was the long walk that was making her queasy and tired or Harry’s melancholy tale.
‘I thought I’d be well fixed up wi’ him,’ he went on. ‘But then he had an accident just after and had to give up fishing, so I applied to other companies.’ He kicked at a stone and sent it skittering over the cobblestones. ‘They can have their pick o’ men, these big companies,’ he said. ‘An’ word had got out that I was a drinker. You wouldn’t think that it’d matter, would you? Most fishermen tek a drink.’
Jeannie considered. Ethan didn’t drink when he was sailing, and neither did Josh.
‘So is that why?’ she asked.
Again he shook his head. �
��No. I still got work, brought in plenty o’ money most of ’time, until autumn afore last when my pal Joe and me had had a skinful of ale ’night afore we were due to sail. Next morning we were still hungover and we were late going on board; nearly missed ’tide so we were in ’skipper’s black books to start with and he logged us. And somehow we could do nowt right for him. We were allus in ’wrong place and it was a really hard trip.’
I don’t feel well, Jeannie thought. Her heart was pounding and she could barely take a breath, yet she felt it wasn’t anything physical, it was the fear of what Harry was going to tell her and most of all of how they would manage without a man’s wage coming in. Fishing would be all that he knew.
‘I’ll have to stop for a minute,’ she said breathlessly.
He gazed down at her. ‘You’ll have to shape up,’ he said. ‘Most women keep on workin’ when they’re expecting.’
‘I know that,’ she answered sharply. ‘But give me a chance. I’ve only just got here. I gave up a job to marry you, don’t forget!’
Harry lifted his shoulders but made no answer and she rested again before saying, ‘So what happened?’
‘We were part of a boxing fleet and I never liked fleeting. I’d rather do single boating any day, cos wi’ fleeting you’re too long away from home for one thing and for another it’s much harder work.’
He paused and Jeannie saw a shadow pass over his face.
‘Were they using steam cutters?’ she asked. ‘To ferry the boxed fish?’
‘Aye,’ he said. ‘I forgot you’d know about fleeting.’
She nodded. In Scarborough there were still many single smacks fishing independently, but these smaller craft couldn’t travel to distant waters as trawlers and larger vessels could. Some owners spent hard-earned money stripping out their smacks, cutting them in half and fitting a new keel to take a larger-beam trawl; steel warps enabled them to fish in deeper water and the new steam capstans made trawling the nets less hazardous to the crew.
Some years before, a group of Scarborough smack owners had got together to form their own fleeting company, after seeing the success of others in Hull and Grimsby. The fleet of smacks was accompanied by fast steam cutters which took delivery of boxes of fish ferried to them via rowing boat from the smacks and then conveyed them swiftly to the London market, ensuring fresher fish than if carried by the railway. But the fishermen didn’t like it.
