by Valerie Wood
‘Aye, I can!’ Will poked his head around the door, and with a grin took the pan from her.
‘Will Foster,’ exclaimed Maria, ‘tha’s already eaten gruel.’
‘Aye, but I’m a growing lad,’ he said, chewing a crisp rasher of bacon. ‘Besides, we’re off fishing and it’ll be a bit nippy out on ’ocean, tha needs plenty of fodder inside to keep out ’cold.’
Maria laughed at the thought of Will ever feeling the cold. He was so accustomed to freezing conditions whilst whaling that the biting east winds that blew along the coast affected him not at all.
‘So get prepared, Ma,’ he added to Mrs Scryven. ‘There’ll be a bucketful of fish for thee to cook.’
‘I’ve already been told,’ she replied sharply. ‘So tha’d better clear off out of my kitchen and go and catch it, or we shan’t be eating it till tomorrow.’
Will stowed away the basket of food that Maria had insisted they brought with them into the bow of the cobble and then sorted out the bait which he had gathered the day before. Sandworm and lugworm and boiled shrimps were best for hook and line fishing which was what they would do today. If they were lucky they might catch cod or flat fish, and there would be plenty of herring and mackerel.
He looked up from what he was doing as he heard a soft whinnying snuffle, and saw Martin Reedbarrow leading his mare down the slipway to help them launch. The sandy beach was quite shallow and not very suitable for launching a boat as heavy as a cobble, and a good deal of effort was needed to get it into deep water. Already it was chocked up on greased timber which, as the horse pulled, would roll the boat into the sea.
Up on the cliff top behind Martin he could see the small figure of Jimmy, who waved and shouted something to him. Will shook his head, he couldn’t hear what he was saying.
‘Can I come with thee?’ Jimmy plunged down the slope and ran eagerly up to him, jumping up and down in his enthusiasm, his eyes bright with excitement. ‘Tha said I could one day.’
‘Aye, but not today. Not when ’master’s here.’
‘But—!’
‘But nowt. I’ve told thee, not this time. I will take thee, and that’s a promise. I’ll take thee and our Tom and show thee both how to fish and sail.’
Jimmy turned sulkily away. ‘I wouldn’t be any bother.’
Will didn’t answer him. Jimmy could be very persistent sometimes, so obstinately determined to get his own way that often it was easier to give in to him. He looked up again towards the cliffs where the soft red clay gushed a steady stream of water which ran down and round the interlaid layers of gravel, sand and boulders. If only Mr Masterson and John would hurry up. It was already late and they ought to have moved off an hour ago. The weather didn’t look very promising, the wind was blowing hard and there was a heavy sea running. Then he saw the two men rounding the cliff top and making their way down the crumbling face by the broken steps.
‘Beggin’ tha pardon, sir.’ Martin touched his forelock as they reached the sands. ‘Them steps isn’t safe. Tha’d be better off comin’ down ’village road another time.’
‘Yes, I think you’re probably right.’ Isaac was breathless with the effort of climbing down the uneven steps. ‘It’s a long way round, that’s all.’
‘If tha’s ready, sir,’ Will interrupted, ‘we’d best be pushing off and getting under way.’
The two men were dressed in their warmest coats and woollen hats, though they weren’t wearing their padded arctic jackets as Will was. He had discarded his fine leather boots today and brought out his old waterproof sea boots and was wearing just one, this and the stump of his wooden limb making an odd pattern in the damp sand.
‘There she goes!’ As the boat rumbled off the logs and the bow hit the water, Will and John hoisted themselves on board to join Mr Masterson who was already seated on the wooden planking. As they picked themselves up, John gave a gasp and then a laugh. ‘Young varmint!’
A pair of small hands were clutching tightly to the side of the cobble and two thin legs dangled in the sea as Jimmy clung on desperately. As Will and John had pushed the boat, he, under the guise of helping, had flung himself on board in a frantic leap as the boat had hit the waves.
Furiously, Will yanked him on board. ‘I’ll give thee a taste of summat when I get thee home,’ he hissed. ‘I told thee tha couldn’t come!’
Turning towards Mr Masterson, he apologized. ‘I’m sorry, sir, I’ll have to row back, ’water’s too deep to put him over. Though I must say I’ve half a mind to drop him in it.’
‘Leave him, leave him,’ said Isaac. ‘It’ll maybe do him good and he won’t be in such a hurry to stow away another time.’ He stared good-humouredly at Jimmy who was wringing the water from his breeches. ‘A dose of seasickness should cure you.’
Jimmy grinned up at him. ‘I’ll not be sick.’
‘Sir,’ reminded Will sharply as he prepared to hoist the sail. ‘Don’t forget thy manners.’
‘I’ll not be sick, sir,’ Jimmy repeated. ‘I’m going to be a seaman like me fayther.’
Isaac looked puzzled for a moment and looked at Will. ‘Is he one of your sons? I thought he was working on the land?’
‘No, sir. This is Jimmy Swinburn, he lives with us until his ma comes to fetch him.’ Will reckoned he could do without a parley on Jimmy just now. The wind was freshening from the north-east, inducing a long deep roll of the sea which broke high over the bow.
‘Me fayther worked thy ships, sir. Alan Swinburn, he died on ’Polar Star’ Jimmy blinked his eyes as tears gathered and drew in a deep gasping breath. ‘I’m going to be a harpooner and work on Masterson ships.’
Isaac Masterson nodded thoughtfully. He remembered Swinburn, not the most reliable of men, yet the company had a policy of looking after the families. ‘Are you now? Well, you must come and see me when you’re older and we’ll see what can be done. What age are you?’
Jimmy drew himself up as straight as he possibly could from his position at the bottom of the boat. ‘I’m ten, sir.’
‘He’s nearly seven, sir,’ shouted Will over the noise of the wind. ‘And he has an ower long tongue.’
John laughed cheerfully. ‘I doubt he’ll reach ten if he keeps throwing himself into the sea.’ He reached for the sack of bait. ‘Now, come on, young fellow, if you’re staying on board then you must pull your weight, there are no passengers on this trip. You’re in charge of the bait and you must make sure that the hooks are baited and ready for use as soon as we need them.’
The cobble was a robust boat, built to withstand the rigours of the rough and uneasy German Ocean. It had previously been used as a pilot boat, and was reliable and seaworthy, but it was not easy to handle and needed an experienced crew to manage the capacious four-cornered lug sail. Will soon found that he was skipper, for although Isaac Masterson had had many years of experience in sailing ships, he was quite willing to follow Will’s instructions as the current took them out to the open sea.
They covered about four miles before they dropped anchor to fish. Mackerel and herring were in profusion, and for two hours they hauled in one fish after another until the baskets were stacked high with the glistening silver bodies. The white fish were not so plentiful, though they caught four small cod, and, to Jimmy’s ultimate delight, he pulled in a flounder unaided.
‘If tha’s ready, sir, it would be prudent for us to get back.’ Will had been watching the weather closely for the last half hour. The sky was rapidly darkening, a storm was gathering in the east, and the sea birds, foretellers of bad weather, were flying before it as they made for the shelter of land. Shrieking kittiwakes and noisy herring gulls flew above them as they headed for the safety of their nests on the lofty white chalk cliffs of Flamborough Head.
‘Ready when you are, Foster. We’ve enough fish here to feed the village, so we’d better leave some for next time.’ Isaac’s face was red and blotchy with the wind and salt air and his eyes watered, but he had a look of satisfaction as he spoke.
As they weighed anchor the wind freshened and shifted, the sail filled and they clung on tightly to the straining ropes as the waves buffeted them, drenching them with salt spray.
They could barely see a smudge of land as they dipped and rose between the watery ridges, but they knew they were being carried further from their home base and northwards towards the sweep of the Bridlington headland.
‘All right, Jim?’ Will glanced down at the boy who sat below him. Jimmy nodded, not trusting himself to speak. His face was deathly white though his mouth was red as he clenched his lips together in a tight line. ‘Here, tie this rope round tha waist,’ Will shouted. ‘Make a good knot and lash ’other end to thole pins. Then if tha wants to lean over ’side, tha’ll be safe.’
‘I’ll not be sick,’ the boy protested, but nevertheless he fastened the rope around him, and within a few minutes as the boat was flung high into the air and then sank low into the following trough, to his immense fury he succumbed to his first wave of seasickness.
‘We’ll have to seek shelter in Bridlington Quay, sir,’ Will yelled, his voice hoarse as he battled to keep an even course. ‘We won’t make it back against ’wind. There’s going to be a real blow.’
As he spoke the wind rose again, whipping up the frothy white spume as a huge wall of water hovered then broke above them, making them gasp for breath as it washed over them.
‘Get hold of ’pigging and start bailing, Jimmy.’
Jimmy took hold of the wooden pail and, a true seaman’s son, forgot his sickness as he bailed frantically, glad of the line which held him fast, while the three men fought to keep the cobble steady.
There was a fleet of vessels sheltering already in the safety of the bay as they approached the choppy, broken sea at the mouth of the harbour. The long, exposed coastline was renowned for the sudden shifting of currents, the vagaries of gusting winds and vaporous sea frets which came down in an instant to hide land from view. There were few sheltered harbours and the ships’ masters and fishermen were glad to be within reach of a haven to protect them from the icy wind which blew across the northern waters.
A small boat rowed out to take them to shore as they dropped anchor in the deep water of the harbour. They loaded two baskets with fish and their gear and tipped two other baskets of fish back into the water.
‘I’ll try for a carriage, sir.’ They had gone into the nearest inn and asked for a room where they could dry their clothes and get warm. ‘You go inside, whilst I am making enquiries.’ John hurried out into the street and Will drew Jimmy near to the fire, politely elbowing some of the blue-jerseyed seamen out of the way. ‘Can he come by? ’Lad’s wet through.’
Isaac hesitated in the doorway of the private room that the landlord had directed him to, then turned into it. There was a good fire burning and a pair of comfortable chairs. The landlord brought him a glass of ale and a hot rum and set it down on the table.
‘My man and a boy are through in the other room. See that they get what they want, will you?’
John returned after ten minutes looking harassed. ‘I’ve managed to get a carriage, but we have to pay double the price. The driver was very reluctant to take us. He says that he was along that way last week and the roads are waterlogged.’
‘I don’t mind what it costs,’ Isaac replied testily. He was beginning to feel cold and shivery and he was very wet. ‘I just want to get home and out of these wet clothes, and Isobel will be getting worried.’
The rain came down in torrents as they climbed into the carriage, and John realized that he would have to stay at Garston Hall another night. By the time they arrived there it would be too late to start the journey back to Hull. The roads were not good to travel on in the dark and besides he was too tired and wet, though not as tired and wet as he would be once he was away whaling, nor as cold. As he settled back on to the hard, unsprung, leather seat he was suddenly struck by a thought. ‘Sir?’ he said to Isaac. ‘Would it be permissible to bring young Jim inside?’
‘Why not? The boy looks frozen stiff, he wasn’t really dressed for a fishing trip. Tell Foster to pass him down.’
So Will handed him down and Jimmy took his first and only ride on the inside of a carriage, whilst Will turned up his collar and pulled down his hat over his ears and sat hunched next to the coachman, sharing with him the vista of the grey landscape seen through a curtain of pouring rain.
‘Oh, I’ve been that worried about thee. I thought ’worst.’ Maria flung her arms around Will and then Jimmy. She stripped the boy of all his clothes and stood him naked in front of the range. Mrs Scryven put a poker into the fire, went into the cold pantry and brought out a jug of ale and one of milk to make a hot posset.
‘Try not to worry about me, Maria. What will be, will be. And besides,’ Will gathered her up in his arms as he saw her anxious expression, ‘don’t ever forget that I’m a seaman, always will be. And if ’sea should take me when my time comes, then that’s ’way I should want to go. No earthen grave for me with worms eating my flesh.’ He smiled down at her and joked. ‘I’d rather be floating with fishes, with seaweed in my beard. Now, come on, lass, dry thy tears and let’s get started on that fish. We’re starving, aren’t we, Jim?’
The door opened and Tom came in. His hands were dirty and his face smeared with mud. He left his mudcaked boots by the door and sat wearily down in the nearest chair. ‘By, I’m that tired, Ma. We’ve been trying to plough but it’s that wet and clarty, ’oxen got stuck fast.’
Maria laughed as she heard Dick Reedbarrow’s expressions coming from her son’s mouth.
‘Tha should have been wi’ us, Tom.’ Jimmy sipped his posset and grinned at Tom, his eyes alight. ‘We’ve had a right grand time.’ He proceeded to tell of the day’s events, with several supplementary embellishments, and culminating with the ride inside the carriage.
‘I’ll take thee next time, Tom. Only we’ll pick a better day.’ Will smiled at his ploughboy son as he sat half asleep in the warmth of the kitchen.
‘What?’ Tom stirred himself and sat up blinking. ‘I’m not that bothered, Da. Dick said I can help with ’sowing as soon as ’weather changes and I thought I might make a patch at home. Plant some ’taties and cauliflowers and some corn. Tha’d like that, Ma?’
Maria nodded and smiled at his enthusiasm but glanced at her husband.
‘But tha’d like to come fishing some time, wouldn’t tha, son?’ said Will slowly.
‘Oh, aye. I’ll come with thee, Da. If I have ’time. But I’m going to be a farmer, so I can only come when ’weather won’t let me work ’land.’
His young face was earnest as he tried to make them understand, and Will felt a vague ripple of regret as he nodded in silent agreement, and wondered why, when the sea, which he believed coursed through his veins alongside his blood, hadn’t run also into his only son.
‘Do you realize that I have been alone all day, whilst you have been sitting out there in that silly boat. If you had wanted fish for dinner, I’m quite sure that Mrs Scryven could have ordered some.’ Isobel walked up and down the drawing room in anger. ‘It has been raining all afternoon and I couldn’t even step outside to relieve the boredom.’
‘I’m sorry, my dear. It was most unfortunate, but a terrible storm blew up and we were lucky to get back at all.’ Isaac looked hurt. ‘I thought at least you might be a little worried.’ He blew his nose loudly. He was sure he’d caught a chill.
Loftily she gazed at him. ‘Why should I be worried? You’ve been in shipping all your life. You’re hardly likely to fall out of a little fishing boat.’
Sighing, he poured himself another brandy. ‘No,’ he said, ‘you’re perfectly right, of course.’
John took a stroll around the grounds after supper. His aunt had forgiven them and was genial enough at table. They had had an excellent meal of stuffed
mackerel and baked cod and he felt relaxed and pleasantly tired and would soon go to bed, ready for an early start tomorrow. The rain had stopped and there was a fresh clean smell of wet earth and seaweed. He walked down to the edge of the garden where the pasture began and stood in the semi-darkness, his arms folded, listening to the murmuring of the waters and looking out at the dark streaked sky towards the horizon.
His senses alert to the sounds of the night, he was suddenly aware of a girl’s laughter, and, with a sudden quickening of his pulse, he recognized it as Susan’s. He drew back within the shelter of the hedge, for he didn’t want to spy, nor did he want to startle her. She laughed again, a teasing, playful laugh which made his stomach tighten. She wasn’t alone. He heard the answering deep voice of a man, one he had heard only today. They came into view, dark shadows against the skyline, their arms around one another, and then he with a laugh picked her up and swung her round as if she was as light as a feather, her legs and skirts swinging shamelessly.
He watched them as they returned to the house, skirting the forbidden garden, knowing their place, and returning via the stables and yard, unaware that they were being observed either by John or Will, in the shadows with a small sleepy child on his back and another one trudging wearily by his side as they made their way back home.
John didn’t of course expect Susan to share in any aspect of his life, but the fact that she had led him from the greenness of youth to the delights of manhood gave him a sense of possession. He was hurt that she should turn from him to another so easily. He didn’t remember now that he might have found himself in an undesirable predicament, and, as he walked back to the house, for the second time in his life he had a sensation of loss and felt very much alone.
15
John didn’t return to Monkston for another six weeks and then it was to say goodbye, for he was due to sail on the Polar Star the following week. There was a first sweet breath of spring in the air, a newness which seeped into the house as they opened wide the windows and doors, and into the bones of those who were aware of it. Narcissi and crocuses were showing tips of colour from within their shafts of green, and birds were nesting, flying busily across the lush green lawns with trailing straw and strands of sheep’s wool in their beaks, up into the gaps and crevices beneath the red-brown pantiles and deep into the safety of the prickly hedgerows.
