by Valerie Wood
The Greenland Yards, which prepared and boiled the blubber for processing into oil, were in the process of being closed down, while other industries were springing up as new machinery was developed; seed oil was displacing whale oil, and coal gas for street lighting had long ago supplanted the product of the whale. But, Gilbert had considered complacently, theirs was a well-established firm, which ran smoothly on standards of good sense and practicability set long ago.
He was gratified, too, by his own personal finances. The money borrowed and speculated at Billington’s suggestion had proved a sound investment. He had paid back the original loan and with the interest accrued he had reinvested again, once more on Austin Billington’s advice. He had transferred the company’s business to Billington’s bank and severed all connections with the previous bank.
Yes, things are going pretty well, he thought smugly. Billington’s the man for us; he’s sharp and forward-looking, not afraid to take a bit of a chance, unlike that old stick in the mud, Collins. I might even have a wager, he mused. It’s quite some time since I had a game of crib. Although Harriet wouldn’t approve. I shouldn’t have to tell her.
He had been prompted towards this fancy when he’d caught sight of Craddock in the town. Craddock had a large parcel beneath his arm and he’d crossed over the road deliberately in order to speak to Gilbert.
‘Don’t see you these days, Rayner,’ he said facetiously. ‘Little wifey keep you under lock and key, does she?’
‘Not at all,’ Gilbert replied stiffly. ‘I’ve been very busy.’
‘Of course.’ Craddock smiled. ‘I do understand. But there’s a game on this evening if you’re interested. Bring Mrs Rayner if you think she’d like a gamble.’
‘She wouldn’t.’ Gilbert wouldn’t dream of taking Harriet to such places. Gambling dens were not suitable for ladies of Harriet’s sensitivities.
‘Can’t blame you, old fellow.’ Craddock gave him an insidious grin. ‘It’s cost me a fortune.’ He indicated the parcel. ‘My little lady saw me win last night and wheedled a new gown out of me.’ He winked. ‘I told her if she was specially nice to me, I would come out and buy her one from Madame Schubert.’
‘Indeed?’ Gilbert had moved away. ‘Must be off.’
‘Don’t forget then!’ Craddock called out. ‘Tonight at the Squirrel Club, ten o’clock. If you’re allowed out!’
Ten o’clock, he pondered, taking his feet off the desk and reaching for the hand bell. It’s tempting, though I don’t know what excuse I would give if I went out at that hour.
‘Yes, sir?’ His clerk answered the bell.
‘Ask my cousin to come up will you, Jennings.’ Gilbert busily shuffled some papers around his desk.
‘Mr Billy hasn’t come in today, sir.’
Gilbert looked up. ‘Not come in? Have you had word from him? Is he sick?’
‘We haven’t heard, sir. We knew that he wasn’t going to be in Monday or Tuesday, but expected him as usual today. Should I send round to his lodgings?’
‘Yes, you’d better – mm, no, on second thoughts, don’t bother, leave it until later in the day. Perhaps he’s been held up with something.’
The clerk turned back to the door.
‘Send Hardwick up then. Ask him to bring the accounts that he was working on yesterday.’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Rayner. Mr Hardwick isn’t in either. He had a message to go down to ’docks while you were out earlier and he hasn’t got back yet.’
Gilbert sighed. ‘All right. Send either of them up if and when they get back.’
Jennings closed the door behind him. Gilbert rose and stood by the window. Below him, in the Old Harbour, barges and tug boats were packed into the narrow waterway, and on the quayside the porters and tally men were counting coils of ropes and checking crates of equipment before despatching them down the river to the docks, where some of the old wooden whaling ships were laid up for further strengthening.
The Polar Star Two and Arctic Star were iron ships, powered by steam, and although they had both had successful voyages, the seamen who sailed on them were less than satisfied, being of the opinion that the wooden ships rode the waters of the Arctic and withstood the pressures of the ice much better than the iron vessels. But there was still a disparity of opinion as other men told of the long journeys tracking through the ice before the advent of steam arrived to quicken their voyage through that harsh landscape.
Perhaps we should diversify, he thought. We have had good catches of seals over the last couple of years, better than the whales. Maybe it’s true that there are fewer whales than there once were. Perhaps on the next voyage we’ll try for seals in Newfoundland rather than the Davis Straits for whales. He sighed. Decisions, decisions. I wish Father was here.
There was a pad of running feet on the stairs and an urgent knock on the door. He turned from the window and returned reluctantly to his desk.
‘Sorry, Mr Gilbert. But can you come down to ’docks?’ Hardwick, whose forefathers had been with the firm for almost a century, stood flushed and breathless in the doorway.
‘What’s happened? Is something wrong?’ It wasn’t like Hardwick to be so agitated. He was not given to panic.
‘Some of ’other whalers are in.’ He stood in front of Gilbert’s desk. ‘Two of Brown’s; Lara, belonging to Wymark’s, and two more of Samuelson’s are off ’Shetlands.’
‘Yes – and?’ There was more to come, judging by Hardwick’s anxious face.
‘They’ve none of them seen ’Polar Star Two, not since they set off from Shetlands on ’outward voyage.’ He took a deep breath. ‘And they’ve not seen ’Arctic Star since she was in Melville Bay.’
‘Plenty of time. Plenty of time. Another month yet before we need to start worrying.’ Gilbert sounded more confident than he felt.
‘For ’Arctic Star, yes, perhaps, sir. But not for ’Star Two. Lara was ’last to see her. Nobody has seen her since. She’s disappeared. She’s gone from ’face of ’earth.’
‘Rubbish! There are other ships due in. Somebody will have seen her.’ He frowned. ‘There’s something else bothering you, Hardwick?’
‘Yes, sir. That’s why I wanted you to come down to ’docks. There was a message for you to go earlier, but you weren’t here, so I went instead.’ He tapped the desk top with his fingertips. ‘There are some women waiting by ’dock side. Wives of men from both ships. They’re a bit agitated as well they might be. But – but, they’re blaming ’company, sir. They’re saying that ’Star Two voyage was doomed from ’start.’
‘Doomed from the start! What is that supposed to mean?’ Gilbert exploded. ‘She’s a good ship. Seaworthy!’
‘It’s because no-one from ’company saw her off, Mr Gilbert. I know that you sent her a message, but they’re saying that that wasn’t good enough, that there should have been somebody there.’
Gilbert stared at the man in front of him. Hardwick would understand these women more than anyone. His was an old seafaring family, and he would know of all the old superstitions and customs, and although seeing off the departure of company ships had been instigated by the senior members of Masterson and Rayner themselves, the tradition was now firmly entrenched and had become part of a ritual, so important to the superstitious sea-going folk.
‘I’ll come down.’ He strode from behind his desk and reached for his hat from the stand. ‘You’d better come with me, Hardwick, and we’ll sort it out together.’
Some of the women gathered on the dock side had taken time from work; many were from the fish yards and were wearing their wooden clogs, and with swollen reddened hands were clutching the woollen shawls which were draped around their heads. Others had small children clinging to their skirts or babies at their breasts.
Gilbert was uneasy. He didn’t know how to speak to these women; he felt, too, that they didn’t really trust him, not in the way they had trusted his father, who, he suspected, they regarded as their guardian while their husbands, brothers or sons w
ere sailing in his ships.
‘What seems to be the problem?’ he asked heartily, rubbing his hands together as he spoke. ‘You know as well as I, that a whaler can be overdue for all kinds of reasons.’ As he spoke the words he realized that he had spoken unwisely. At the word overdue, the women looked at each other anxiously and muttered uneasily.
‘Mr Rayner is not saying that the ships are overdue,’ Hardwick broke in. ‘They are not expected back just yet, as you well know. There is no need to start worrying unnecessarily. I have a cousin on Polar Star Two, it’s a fine ship – as is the Arctic Star. Our company has a good record.’
A woman stepped forward. She was almost as tall as Gilbert, and twice as broad, and he stepped back as she waved a finger towards him and Hardwick.
‘We know that tha’s a company man, Hardwick, and well paid for thine efforts I don’t doubt. But we’re not complaining about ’ships being overdue, we’re here because ’ships haven’t been seen in weeks and ’reason is because there wasn’t a Rayner there to see Polar Star Two off on her voyage.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Gilbert began, but was silenced by the woman who raised her voice at him.
‘Can I remind you, Mr Rayner, sir, that ’custom was started by thine own grandfayther who sailed in ’company ships.’ She had a sneer in her voice as she implied that Gilbert did not. ‘He knew how it felt to sail from these shores, and he was allus there.’
‘My father was ill and I was at his bedside! Don’t you understand? I couldn’t be there. A message was sent.’
Was it sent? he asked himself. I asked Billy, I think, but I can’t remember signing anything. And if anything should have happened to the ship I shall be blamed. Oh, what superstitious nonsense! But he knew deep down that it wasn’t nonsense. If the men on board had been uneasy about the omission, it could quite easily affect their attitude during the whole voyage; they could become depressed and pessimistic and filled with foreboding.
‘I was there for the Arctic Star,’ he declared. ‘How do you account for that not being seen?’ Again he made a mistake. He was being negative. He should be bolstering up the confidence of these women instead of arguing with them.
‘’Arctic Star was last seen in Melville Bay. She could be trapped in ’ice and we all know what that means, and we must bide our time and wait, but ’Star Two—’
The woman’s mouth trembled and her eyes filled with angry tears. ‘Polar Star Two was ill-fated, ’cos of thee. Thy fayther would have forgiven thee for not being with him. She’ll not come back. Our men’ll not come back. Tha’ll have to live wi’ that on thy conscience. I hope tha sleeps easy in thy bed at night.’ She turned away from him and marched off, her clogs clattering on the cobbles and dragging two small boys by the hand. Then she stopped and turned back. ‘Tha’ll have no more of my lads, Mr Rayner, sir. I’ll not let them work for thy company again. We’re finished with thee.’
Gilbert stared after her. This mustn’t get out. A company could be finished if the men refused to work the ships. He turned back to the other women who were standing silently. ‘Please don’t worry,’ he said in his most appealing manner. ‘Our ships are the very best; efficient, well run, built to the highest standards which we consider our men deserve.’
One or two of the younger women caught his eye as he appealed to them, smiled at him and nodded, but some of the older ones turned away, muttering, and as he finished speaking, the crowd dissolved and broke up, leaving Gilbert and Hardwick standing alone.
‘It’s a bad business, sir.’ Hardwick rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘Very bad.’
‘You surely don’t believe all of that nonsense, Hardwick? Not a man like you!’
Hardwick avoided his employer’s eye. ‘You mustn’t forget, sir, that I’m from a long line of seamen: whaling men, harpooners, ship’s carpenters, and even though I’ve never been to sea as they did, ’sea is in my blood and I understand their ways.’ He turned then to Gilbert and looked at him in the face. ‘One of my cousins was on ’Polar Star Two. I was at ’dock side that morning when she sailed. He wasn’t happy and neither were ’other men. Our family have lost two of their men in ’Arctic, sailing in Masterson-Rayner ships. I wouldn’t like to think that he’ll be ’third.’
Hardwick hurried back to the office alone, leaving Gilbert to walk back slowly, pondering over the morning’s events and not really wanting to return to the uneasy atmosphere which he knew would be simmering, both in the office and the yard, when there was a possibility that a ship might be lost.
He glanced up as a running figure approached him. ‘Billy! Where have you been?’ Gilbert stared at Billy’s dishevelled appearance. He was unshaven, his hair was uncombed and his clothes looked as if they had been slept in. ‘Why are you not at the firm?’ he demanded. ‘You’re needed. We have a crisis on our hands.’
‘A crisis?’ It was Billy’s turn to stare. ‘Has something happened?’
Gilbert told of the women at the dock side. ‘Did you send that message, Billy? I particularly asked you to.’
‘Yes.’ Billy’s reply was equally terse. ‘I did. And I signed your name as you were not there.’
Gilbert’s relief was short-lived as Billy continued, ‘But it wasn’t your message, was it? It was mine, even though I signed your name. Therefore it doesn’t count.’
‘Doesn’t count! What do you mean? You surely don’t believe …?’
Billy shook his head and wearily put his hand up to his eyes. ‘I don’t know what I believe – but – you can’t trick Fate!’
‘But you’re a Rayner,’ Gilbert stuttered, beginning to half believe the irrational notion. ‘Doesn’t that count for something?’
‘I don’t know, Gilbert, and I’m far too tired to work it out. I must go. I, too, have a crisis on my hands.’
‘But – where are you going? Why are you not at the firm? And why do you look such a mess, as if you have been up all night?’
‘I look a mess because I have been up all night. I’ve been at the cellars with the children, they’re very sick and—’
‘For God’s sake, Billy!’ Gilbert broke in angrily. ‘I’ve just told you there’s an emergency. You’re needed back at the company. Now get yourself cleaned up and back at your desk!’
Billy exhaled a deep breath. ‘I’m wasting time here, Gilbert. I’m about to call on the doctor and bring him out again. There are a dozen children in those cellars with cholera. Doctor Sheppard and I have been with them all night, fetching clean water, giving them saline fluid and opium. He came back for an hour’s rest, but now two more are ill.’
Gilbert stared in horror. ‘Cholera! But you might catch it! Don’t go back. You’re not a medical man. What can you do?’
‘The children know me, they trust me,’ Billy said patiently. ‘I have to go back. It’s true I can’t do much, but just being there seems to be enough for some of them. And – and I’m not coming back.’
‘Not coming back? What do you mean?’ He was starting to panic. He was relying on Billy to placate the men if there was a dispute, especially now that Hardwick seemed to be opposing him. ‘You have work to do. Important work,’ he insisted. ‘One day you will be a director of our company. Now, I gave you yesterday off to see Pearson, and I suppose you’d better take the rest of today as well. There’s no point in coming in looking as you do, but tomorrow—’
Billy sighed. ‘You’re not listening to me, Gilbert. I’m not coming back. If we don’t get this epidemic under control, then it could spread throughout the town. Oh, you do right to look alarmed,’ he added as dismay showed on Gilbert’s face. ‘Cholera is no respecter of status, but I doubt if you, or I for that matter, will get it. But the people who live in damp alleys or holes in the ground like the children do, are very vulnerable.’ He turned away and stepped towards a nearby door which had a brass plate outside. He rang the bell. ‘And when I said I wasn’t coming back, I meant just that. As from today I resign. You can keep my month’s salary in lieu of notice if yo
u wish.’
Gilbert continued to stare as Billy waited for someone to answer the door. ‘You’ll regret it!’ he snapped as the door opened. ‘You can’t live on fresh air and charity!’
‘A lot of people do.’ Billy turned away and stepped inside the open door.
‘When did you decide?’ Gilbert called him back. ‘Don’t be hasty! You might change your mind!’
Billy popped his head around the door; he suddenly looked animated and refreshed. ‘I won’t.’ He grinned, his teeth looking white in his grimy face. ‘And I decided about two minutes ago.’
38
When Tom came down the stairs the morning after he had brought Jenny back to the mill house, the fire was blazing in the hearth, the kettle was boiling and there was a smell of porridge cooking in the pan. George was already seated at the table, an empty bowl by his elbow, enthusiastically dipping a thick slice of bread into a plate of eggs.
‘’Morning, sir.’ Jenny looked up from the range as he entered the kitchen. ‘I’m sorry I can’t cook any bacon, ’cos there doesn’t seem to be any. But I collected some eggs from that big garden at ’back where ’hens are. Was it all right to do that?’
‘That’s ’paddock.’ George interrupted with a mouthful of bread. ‘Where ’hens are, I mean.’
‘Beg pardon, Master George, I didn’t quite catch what tha said.’ A slight grin played around her mouth.
‘You’ll have to excuse my brother, Jenny,’ Tom apologized wryly. Martha had taught her well in such a short time. ‘He has the manners of a goat.’
She smiled back at him. ‘It’ll not take me long to find where everything is. But it seems funny out here in ’country without shops to buy bread and stuff. Cook at Garston Hall showed me how to knead dough, but I’m not very good at it yet. I couldn’t get my teeth into ’last lot that I made.’
