The Fisher Lass

by Margaret Dickinson

‘Angus, I couldna bear to lose you. I’ve already lost a father and a husband to the sea.’

  ‘I know, Mother,’ the boy said gently. ‘But Joe and Sammy are fishermen. And they’re all right, aren’t they?’

  Jeannie nodded, biting on her lower lip. ‘Aye, I pray every night to keep them safe . . .’ And then she added in a whisper, ‘But they’re as good as lost to me, for I never see them.’

  Now Angus’s smile broadened. ‘Well, you might soon, Mam, because in the Easter holidays I’m going to sea on the Arctic Queen II, the boat Joe skippers.’

  Jeannie gasped. ‘On Joe’s boat? You’re going to sea with Joe and Sammy?’ It was a Gorton boat, she reminded herself, but even so . . .

  At that moment, Robert walked into the room and Jeannie whirled around to face him. ‘Did you set all this up?’ she demanded.

  His glance went from one to another. ‘Now what am I supposed to have done?’ he asked.

  ‘Did you ask Joe and Sammy to take Angus to sea on their boat?’

  But Robert looked genuinely startled and glanced at his son, who spoke up before his father could answer her question.

  Angus drew himself up. ‘No, Dad knew nothing about it. I asked ’em.’

  ‘You? But – but you dinna ken them.’

  ‘Course I know them.’

  ‘But – how?’

  ‘Every time they dock, I meet the ship. Joe’s a great bloke.’ He smiled at his mother and added gently, ‘I think my half-brother’s beginning to like me. And I know Sam does.’

  Jeannie opened her mouth to say, of course Joe likes you. But in this family, that was no guarantee. She had not spoken to them since the day she had gone to ask them both to be godfather to Angus. Fourteen long years ago, and since then not a day had gone by that she hadn’t thought about them. But until this moment she had had no idea that Angus had even met them, let alone spoken to them. The revelation came as a shock. And yet, rationally, if she thought about it, he had spent such a lot of his young life down at the docks, it would have been odd if he had not run into them. But it sounded now as if he had deliberately sought them out.

  ‘How – how long has this been going on?’

  The boy wrinkled his forehead. ‘Oh about six months I suppose. I’ve known for a long time that I wanted to go to sea and I thought the best way would be to go with Joe. And Sammy, too, of course. He’s my cousin, isn’t he?’ He looked towards his father for confirmation. All Robert could do was nod.

  They had never tried to keep the fact a secret. Indeed, from an early age, Jeannie and Robert had spoken openly about Joe and Sammy in front of Angus and, when he was old enough, Robert had explained gently all that had happened in their families to cause the rift between them. He had even, Jeannie thought with admiration, told their son of the very first time he had encountered Jeannie, hiding none of his own shame at the memory.

  Now Angus took his mother’s hands into his own and, looking straight into her eyes, he said quietly, ‘I thought I might be able to bring the family together at the same time.’

  Tears blurred her eyes and she reached out and touched his cheek with the tips of her fingers but no words would come. He was a deep thinker, this youngest son of hers, with a kind and generous nature. He knew that her dearest wish was to be reunited with Joe and Sammy and, to try to bring it about, he was willing to go to sea with them. All three would be on the same ship at the mercy of the mighty ocean.

  No, no, she couldn’t let it happen. She must talk to Robert alone. He must stop Angus going.

  ‘Now you are being silly, darling,’ Robert said. ‘This isn’t like you at all. Where’s my strong Jeannie? The girl who once brandished a gutting knife under my nose? Not that I didn’t deserve it,’ he added hastily.

  ‘But how do you know they will look after him? How do you know that they’re not taking him to sea to – to . . .?’

  Even she balked at putting her deepest fears into actual words.

  ‘To tip him over the side in a gale, you mean?’ Robert said bluntly, bringing her worst nightmare into the open. ‘Oh come now, Jeannie. You’re talking about your own son and about my nephew. I know Francis was a bad lot but I don’t think even he would stoop to something like that. And as for Joe, well he’s your son and Tom’s.’

  Jeannie faced him. ‘Aye, and Tom carried a hatred for you and your family all his life. A resentment that Joe seems to be carrying on. As for Sammy, well, he’s his own particular bitterness, hasn’t he? I always used to fear for you when you and Tom served on the same minesweeper in the war. More than just the enemy’s aircraft and the mines you were clearing.’

  Robert stared at her. He opened his mouth to argue but then he remembered. Remembered, suddenly, the times he had felt Tom’s antagonism. It had been real, very real. So real that on the odd occasion – strange how he had forgotten it until this moment – the thought had crossed his own mind that he might be in physical danger from the man.

  Quietly he said, ‘And now you fear for Angus’s safety if he should go to sea with Joe and Sammy?’

  Wordlessly, because to say it aloud seemed so awful, she nodded.

  He was thoughtful for a moment before he said slowly, ‘Then I’ll go with them. No one would misinterpret that. He’s only fourteen. And after all,’ he gave a half-smile, ‘I am in the happy position of being able to “pull rank”. I own the ship.’

  She rushed to him and flung her arms about him. ‘Oh Robert, would you? Would you really go?’

  He put his arms about her and sighed against her hair. ‘You know, Mrs Gorton, that I would do anything in this world for you.’

  The day they left, Jeannie refused to come down to the dockside to see them off. Childhood superstition was still strong within her and though her hair now had more strands of white than of the rich, red colour, her fear was still there. ‘It might make things awkward if I come with Joe and Sammy there.’ She made the excuse that they could not deny, but when she saw Angus’s crest-fallen face, she forced a brightness into her voice to promise, ‘But I’ll come and meet you the day you come back.’

  So she did not go down to the dockside, but, unknown to them all, from the window of the Gorton-Hathersage Trawler Company’s office, Jeannie watched the Arctic Queen II nose its way out of the dock and head for the open sea. Beside her stood her brother-in-law, his arm about her waist.

  ‘Oh Edwin,’ she sighed, resting her head against his shoulder for a moment. ‘They’re all aboard that one boat. The four most important people in my life, and I’ve let them all go together into the treacherous Icelandic waters.’

  ‘They’ll be all right.’ Edwin squeezed her waist, still as lithe and trim as a young woman’s. ‘Joe’s a fine skipper. He may be the youngest we’ve ever had on our boats but he’s one of the best. And Sammy too. Not skipper material, maybe, but he’s a good seaman. They’ll be all right,’ he said again, but she had the uncomfortable feeling that he was trying to convince himself as much as comfort her.

  Forty-Nine

  The 1950s had been a boom time for the Gorton-Hathersage Trawler Company of Havelock. Having weathered the economic problems of the ’30s, it had seemed ironic that a world war should smash all that they had built up. At the end of the war, Robert believed he had little to return home to in the way of the business. Caught up in his love for and hopes for the future with Jeannie, he was not too concerned, but after her rejection of him, Robert’s only salvation was to plunge himself into work.

  Under Edwin’s steady hand on the financial side of the business and with Robert’s natural flair for dealing fairly with the men in their employ, the company began to flourish. Whilst the brothers themselves might have missed Francis’s leadership, amongst the fishermen there was little regret.

  By the early 1960s the Gorton-Hathersage Trawler Company of Havelock was reckoned to be the biggest trawler-owning company on the north-east coast of Lincolnshire, and the most modern thinking. And some said they even rivalled the owners in the port of H
ull on the opposite bank of the Humber.

  ‘An old man and a boy? Dead weight they’ll be. The skipper must be out of his mind teking ’em.’

  ‘He hasn’t got a lot of choice, has he? Seeing who it is?’

  ‘Why? Who is it?’

  ‘Don’t ya know? Mester Robert Gorton and his young son.’

  ‘Never! I dun’t believe you.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘Well, the skipper has lost ’is marbles then.’

  The other man laughed. ‘Like I said, he ain’t much choice seeing as ’ow Mester Robert’s the owner of this ship.’

  ‘And I suppose . . .’ there was a note of comic horror in the man’s tone now, ‘you’re going to tell me next that I’ll get the brat working with me as galley boy?’

  The other man laughed. ‘No, the young ’un wants to be on deck, so they say. No, old son, you’ve got the mester as your “galley boy”.’

  The choice words that followed made even Robert’s ears burn. He hadn’t meant to listen to the conversation, but had found himself trapped in the tiny cabin stowing his gear when the two men, passing by, had spoken in such loud voices that it was impossible for him not to overhear. He held his breath, hoping they would not step into the cabin and only let it out when the footsteps went on.

  The final words Robert heard were, ‘Mind you, I dun’t reckon the skipper does like it – the old man coming along, I mean. They say he dun’t have nowt to do with any of the family even though his mother’s married to Mester Robert.’

  ‘What about the lad?’ At this point the voices became indistinct and Robert could not hear the reply but he could have told them. Oh yes, he could have told them about the lad.

  ‘The lad’ had been in a turmoil of excitement ever since the trip had been finally agreed upon. At first he had argued about his father coming too. ‘What’ll the crew think? It’ll make me look a baby.’

  But, credit due to the boy, Robert thought, when he had seen his mother’s genuine anxiety, Angus had given her a bear-hug accompanied by his engaging grin of capitulation.

  And now he was aboard, his belongings stowed and already he was on deck demanding of Sammy – the third hand – what he could do.

  The first two days at sea were awkward. The crew were ill at ease. Conversations stopped abruptly whenever Robert or Angus approached and were virtually non-existent when they all sat together in the messroom. But then, forty-eight hours out to sea, the natural hierarchy aboard ship took over. Though the men all had work to do on the voyage out, there was nevertheless a relaxed atmosphere. When the nets and all their gear had been made ready and the skipper sent down the first tot of rum to ‘wet the net’, Robert and Angus felt themselves accepted.

  ‘You watch it, Dad, you know what rum does to you,’ Angus teased, knocking back his own tot like an old hand.

  ‘And you just wait till I tell your mother about you!’

  ‘Skipper’s keeping himself to himself, ain’t he?’ was the only other remark Robert overheard, though he guessed there were plenty went on out of his hearing.

  ‘Aye, well, awk’ard for him, ain’t it?’

  ‘Oh aye. I s’pose it is,’ came the reply and Robert, as he carried two mugs of tea and two plates of bread and butter along the rolling deck, felt their glance upon him. But by the third day, they were taking their tea and saying, ‘Thanks, mate.’

  Ted Gutteridge, the cook, had been blunt. ‘Well, Mester Gorton, I can’t say I’m pleased to have you aboard, but since you’re here and we’ve got to rub along for the next three weeks, that’s the last time I’m going to call you that. From now on, you’re Rob and you take your orders from me.’

  ‘Right you are, Mr Gutteridge . . .’ Robert had begun, but the man had stuck out his hand, grinned and corrected, ‘Ted.’

  Robert took his hand. ‘Ted, it is.’

  Ted had seemed to relax a little. ‘It’s a dangerous place, the galley. Specially in a force nine gale.’ He jerked his thumb upwards. ‘Oh I know it’s rougher up there, but they don’t have a pan of boiling soup slopping over their legs if the ship gives a lurch.’

  Robert nodded, respecting the man’s trade. ‘You just tell me what you want me to do, Ted, and I’ll do it.’

  Ted slapped his new galley boy on the shoulder. ‘Good man.’

  Trying not to make it noticeable, Robert still tried to keep a watchful eye on Angus, though it was not easy since he was in the galley most of the time whilst the boy was on deck.

  Over the next few days, once the tension had eased, ‘Rob’ was surprised to find that in a masochistic kind of way he was actually enjoying himself.

  He saw little of Joe and nor did Angus, though Robert was thankful to see that Sammy had taken the boy under his wing. In fact, Angus became the third hand’s shadow.

  ‘When we get to the grounds,’ Ted told Robert, ‘he’ll have to keep out of his way a bit then. Dangerous job, Sammy’s got, y’know. He’s the one who releases the knot when the trawl net comes aboard. I’ve seen a man killed doing that.’

  Robert said nothing, but he was wondering if he had been right to go against Jeannie’s instincts and allow their son come to sea. Even though he was aboard too, he couldn’t watch the boy every minute, nor could he be sure of being able to keep the lad out of potentially dangerous situations.

  The moment the ship had nosed its way out of the mouth of the Humber, past the lightship and into the treacherous waters of the North Sea to begin its eight-hundred-mile voyage to the fishing grounds off the northeast coast of Iceland, there was danger.

  Suddenly, with a stab of fear, Robert realized, strangely now only for the first time, that the four men who mattered most in the world to Jeannie were all aboard this vessel.

  Fifty

  With both Robert and Angus away, Jeannie felt lost. Although she saw Edwin every day, either visiting him at the Gorton offices or inviting him to dine with her in the evening, there were still too many hours when she was alone. He took her to the theatre twice in the first week but afterwards Jeannie could not have said what the plays were about; her thoughts were out at sea.

  There was one person who would understand how she felt. Thelma. On the first morning of the second week since they had sailed, Jeannie stood outside the terraced house in Wessex Street.

  ‘Hello, Mam. What are you doing here?’

  ‘I hope you don’t mind . . .’ Jeannie began, stepping into the kitchen but then she stopped as she glanced round in amazement. Every surface gleamed and sparkled. From the scullery came the smell of freshly baking bread and the girl herself was smiling at Jeannie. She had gained a little weight and her face had lost that gaunt, discontented look. Thelma was no longer a girl, Jeannie reminded herself, but a young woman. She must be in her mid-thirties now, Jeannie calculated. As she looked around, everything so tidy and in its place, Jeannie felt a stab of pity. It was too tidy. Immaculate – and childless.

  ‘I’ll mek you a cup of tea, Mam, but I’m ever so sorry, I’ve got to go out at eleven. I’ve got mesen this little part-time job in Yorks in Main Street.’ It was the major department store in the street, the shop where George Lawrence had bought Jeannie the coat all those years ago.

  Jeannie nodded. ‘That’s nice, hen. It’s a beautiful shop.’

  ‘It’s only part time.’ The young woman giggled. ‘I wouldn’t want owt to interfere with the times Joe’s at home, y’know. But it’s nice to have summat to do when he’s not here. A little bit extra money’s handy and it keeps me out of mischief.’

  Jeannie made no comment but the two women exchanged a smile.

  ‘Don’t let me keep you then.’

  ‘No, no, it’s nice to see you. I’ve half an hour. I’m all ready except for putting me coat on. Sit down, Mam, do. I’ll get the kettle on.’

  Thelma bustled about, lay a tray with a dainty cloth and reached for delicate china from a cupboard. Jeannie could scarcely believe her eyes. The change in the girl was incredible. She wondered if there
was more to it. Surely, oh surely not. Had Thelma got another man whilst Joe was away? Then firmly, she shook herself. I’m getting as bad as Tom in my suspicions, she told herself sharply.

  Thelma sat down at the table and poured the tea. ‘Do you know, Mam, I’ll always be grateful for what you did for me that time. You brought me to me senses. I love Joe and he’s a good man. A bit moody at times, maybe, and he gets jealous . . .’ She pulled a face. ‘Even when there’s no need.’

  Jeannie knew at once that her fleeting fear had been groundless. She smiled. ‘Dinna let’s talk about that any more, hen. It’s forgotten.’

  ‘Well, I just wanted you to know, that’s all. I am grateful, really I am.’ Thelma sighed. ‘I just wish Joe would see sense and mek friends with you again. He’s missing so much, but he’s so stubborn. Mind you,’ she added, and there was a more hopeful note in her tone. ‘I reckon he’s coming round to his little brother. And Sammy thinks the world of young Angus, y’know?’

  Jeannie’s eyes widened and she felt her heart thumping and she could not prevent the tremble in her voice as she said, ‘Does he? Does he really?’

  Thelma nodded. ‘I reckon Joe’ll come round, given time. He just doesn’t want to admit it, y’know.’

  Jeannie smiled, remembering the fights between Joe and Sammy and then the sudden switch to brotherly, or rather cousinly, affection. Maybe Joe was feeling the same towards Angus. He just couldn’t decide exactly what he did feel towards his half-brother.

  ‘I just wish I knew what was happening out there,’ Jeannie murmured, sipping her tea. ‘I just wish I was with them all.’

  Thelma laughed. ‘Oh, you’re best out the way, Mam. The Arctic Circle in a force ten is no place for you an’ me.’

  Despite the warm cosiness of the room and the hot tea she was drinking, Jeannie shuddered.

  As they sailed northwards, Robert pointed out the hazy outline of hills on the port side. ‘That, Angus, is Scotland. Somewhere over there is the Fife coast where your mother was born.’ He paused and murmured more to himself than to the boy, ‘I’ve been promising to take her back for a visit.’