Lieutenant Kendall shook his head, ‘By the look of them any means of identification has either been stolen or lost. As they are unknown and their bodies unlikely to be claimed by anyone, they might as well be buried here on the beach as anywhere else.’
‘That is appalling!’ Alice was distressed by the lieutenant’s casual attitude towards the bodies laid out on the beach. ‘The men who have drowned will have wives, children or mothers – there might even be women among the bodies too. They deserve more than a shallow grave in the sand. They are entitled to a Christian burial with someone to say a prayer for their souls.’
‘I wouldn’t argue with that,’ he agreed. ‘It’s what every man who goes to sea would hope for should he be unfortunate enough to be victim of a shipwreck, but a Christian burial requires payment for a parson and gravediggers, as well as an undertaker, coffins and bearers. Who would pay the costs? They would not come from a parish where the dead men are total strangers.’
Alice realised she had given no thought to the practicalities of giving a proper burial to all the shipwreck victims laid out on the tiny beach, but she was determined not to admit it to this naval lieutenant who she felt was being particularly smug at pointing out the lack of thought she had given to arranging a decent burial for the bodies recovered from the wrecked ship.
But now the coast guards had arrived to carry the unconscious survivor to the rectory and she said defiantly, ‘I don’t think cost should be the first consideration when a disaster such as this occurs. If you and your men have nothing else to do once the girl is taken to the rectory, they can carry the bodies up to Trethevy church. My brother will ensure they are given a proper burial.’
Chapter Ten
THE FIERCE STORM that had brought destruction and death to ships and their passengers and crews in the Western approaches to the British Isles blew itself out during the following night, leaving an uneasy calm along the coastline that had suffered such a battering.
Returning to the Trethevy rectory the next day, Reverend David Kilpeck strode into the kitchen where Alice was seated eating a light lunch. Beaming at his sister and before she had a chance to say anything to him, he said, ‘What a delightful drive I have had from Tavistock, Alice, one could almost feel the storm had washed the sins of the world away and brought new life to everyone. What is more, I had a most successful meeting with Reverend Carter and … oh, I have so much to tell you! But first I will have something to eat. The drive in the fresh air has made me quite hungry. I trust you had a peaceful time in my absence and that the storm did not affect Trethevy too badly?’
Alice thought of all that had happened during the two days and nights of his absence and of the four able-bodied men from the Tintagel poorhouse who were at this very moment digging a mass grave in the small piece of enclosed ground behind Trethevy’s tiny church. She felt guilty that she was about to destroy the sense of well-being with which her brother had returned to the rectory.
‘I have rather a lot to tell you, David. I think you should sit down before I begin.’
David looked surprised, but did as she suggested then listened with increasing shock and dismay to what Alice had to tell him about the storm, its impact upon the people of his parish and of the now semi-conscious girl lying in the spare bedroom upstairs in the rectory. Finally and with some hesitation now there had been time to reflect on her actions, she told him of the bodies washed up in the small cove below Trethevy and which were now lying in the church. His church!
When she came to an end, David looked at her with an expression of disbelief on his face. Struggling to find words to express his feelings, he eventually said, in a strangled voice, ‘You mean there are bodies … dead people laid out in my church?’
‘That’s right, six men and a woman, all victims of a shipwreck. It is very, very sad.’
Seemingly still in a state of shock, David asked, ‘What on earth were you thinking about, Alice? Quite apart from any other considerations at this moment the church is not fit to keep animals in, let alone lay out bodies – and what am I supposed to do with them now?’
‘Give them a Christian burial,’ Alice said firmly, with renewed conviction that her actions were justified, ‘In the plot of land behind the church that looks as though it might once have been a burial ground.’
‘We can’t be certain it was ever a burial ground, or that it was consecrated. We could be breaking any number of ecclesiastical laws by burying them there, Alice.’
‘Possibly,’ agreed Alice, defiantly, ‘but would you rather they had been buried in shallow graves in the sand down at the cove – or the tide allowed to take them back out to sea again, because that is what was going to happen had I taken no action? This way they will be laid to rest with your blessing and our prayers.’
‘There are also a great number of practical issues to be taken into consideration,’ David persisted. ‘Expenses for coffins, pall bearers and grave-diggers … why, there is not enough money in the church coffers to pay for a flagon of Communion wine, let alone a number of funerals!’
‘That has all been taken care of,’ Alice said triumphantly, refusing to concede a single point to her brother’s arguments, ‘The poorhouse master has produced the gravediggers – they are digging a mass grave at this very moment – and the coffins have been provided from the poorhouse store, paid for in a Christian gesture by the Royal Navy lieutenant in charge of the local coast guard. His men have also offered their services as bearers, free of charge.’
David realised that Alice had thought the matter of the burial of the shipwreck’s victims through thoroughly, but he was not used to making snap decisions on matters likely to result in controversy.
‘This is all most irregular, Alice. I do wish you had waited to consult me before making decisions that were not yours to make.’
‘You were not available when they needed to be made,’ Alice replied decisively, aware that she had won the argument, ‘and a decision needed to be reached immediately if the victims were to be given a Christian burial.’
Knowing his sister as he did, David was aware that nothing he could say would make her change her mind. He had no alternative but to accept the arrangements she had made for the interment of the shipwreck victims.
‘Were any survivors able to identify those who are to be buried?’ He asked. Resignedly.
Alice shook her head, ‘There is only one survivor, a girl named Eliza. It seems she was taken on at the last minute as a maid to one of the very few passengers on board the vessel. She apparently knew none of the crew, or indeed any of her fellow passengers and with all that has happened to her she is thoroughly confused. She is upstairs now, in one of the spare rooms. Eliza suffered a nasty injury and was unconscious for a great many hours. Nevertheless, she is a very lucky girl. Lieutenant Kendall, the officer in charge of the coast guards, says as many as seven ships were wrecked on the Cornish coast alone during the storm – and he has heard of another on Lundy Island. It seems it was the worst storm in living memory hereabouts.’
Determined to rid himself of the unchristian relief he felt that more of the storm’s victims had not been washed ashore in his parish, David said, ‘Well, as you have made the burial of these unfortunate people a fait accompli for me, I had better find out how soon the gravediggers will complete their task and make the necessary arrangements for a simple graveside burial service to be held. When I return to the rectory I will go upstairs to meet your rescued girl – and tell you my news. That too is going to involve considerable extra work, but it will bring in extra money for us and so is good news.’
‘I am sorry, David, so much has been going on here that I haven’t even asked how your visit to Reverend Carter went. I’ll come with you to the church and on the way you can tell me all about it.’
Even though he knew he was being entirely unreasonable, David was unable to entirely hide the disappointment he felt that his own news had been overshadowed by all that had been going on here during his absenc
e.
‘It is quite all right, Alice, I feel you have coped incredibly well on your own during what must have been an appalling and traumatic experience and you are needed here to take care of your patient. My news will keep for a quiet moment, when I will tell you all about my meeting with Emmanuel Carter. All I will say for now is that he has asked me to stand in for him as curate of Tintagel, with a salary that, while small, will enable you to take on a housemaid and help us both enjoy a less frugal lifestyle.’
Chapter Eleven
‘I RATHER LIKE that coast guard officer of yours, Alice. He was most generous with his donation towards the funeral of the poor unfortunates from the shipwreck. Apparently he comes from a good Cornish family, too. One of the Tintagel churchwardens attending the ceremony says his family own land in South Cornwall.’
‘Lieutenant Kendall is not my coast guard officer,’ Alice replied indignantly. ‘He is a naval officer who felt that dead sailors are as entitled to a respectful burial as anyone living on land – and if he comes from a well-to-do family I need not feel so guilty about the money he has spent on something that was my suggestion.’
‘I doubt if he will be able to call on his family to pay for his philanthropic whims. Unless he has an allowance the money will come from his naval officer’s salary. It is a thoroughly Christian gesture and as such is most praiseworthy.’
Taken by surprise by her defensive response to his remark, David thought it was probably because she really was concerned because a suggestion from her had resulted in the young naval officer spending money.
‘After the service, Lieutenant Kendall mentioned that he would like to speak to Eliza. He has to submit reports to the Coast Guard headquarters in London about the shipwrecks that occurred along the North Cornwall coast during the great storm. There were very few survivors and it would seem Eliza is the only one from the Balladeer.’
It had been confirmed from the wreckage washed ashore that Balladeer was the vessel wrecked upon the Lye rock.
‘He is not likely to learn much from Eliza, she is terribly vague about everything that happened,’ Alice said. ‘It is hardly surprising, she is little more than a child and it must have been a terrifying ordeal for her.’
‘We must hope she regains her memory in due course, we need to notify someone of her whereabouts.’
‘There is no one,’ Alice replied. ‘She is a poorhouse girl and as a child was put into service with an old lady. Sadly, her employer became senile and was taken to live with a daughter, somewhere in the north of England. They had no need of Eliza and she might have been returned to the poorhouse had she not been taken into service by a lady travelling on the vessel to join her family, only hours before the Balladeer sailed. It seems this lady’s own maid changed her mind about going aboard at the very last minute. It all happened so suddenly that Eliza knew her mistress only as “Miss Jenny”. She had been told her surname, but Eliza said it was very long and foreign-sounding and there was no time to familiarise herself with it.’
David frowned, ‘That is all very well, but what will happen to her now, she cannot stay here.’
‘But she can, David, don’t you see? When you returned from Tavistock with the news that you were to act as Reverend Carter’s curate at Tinagel, you said we could now afford to take on a housemaid. Well, providence has presented us with one!’
Taken aback, David said, ‘But I was thinking of employing a local girl, someone who would know all the people in the area and be known by them. We know nothing about Eliza and if all she says is true we have no means of obtaining references.’
‘She is a fourteen year-old girl, David. If she has shortcomings as a housemaid she is young enough to learn new ways. I think this was meant to be – and I want her for our housemaid.’
It was apparent that Alice had made up her mind and David was aware that further argument would be futile. Sighing in resignation, he said, ‘Very well, but she will begin work on the understanding that she is on a month’s trial. If she proves unsatisfactory during that time she must go.’
‘I believe she is exactly what we are looking for, David, but thank you. Had you not persuaded Reverend Carter to take you on as his curate we would never have been able to afford a housemaid at all. You are a very clever brother.’
David was aware his sister was only flattering him because she had got her own way, but he did not mind. Alice had always worked hard on his behalf and he was pleased to be able to do something to make her happy.
When Alice put the suggestion to Eliza, the young girl could hardly believe her luck. Since recovering consciousness and being told where she was, she had feared her rescuers would be bound to learn why she had been on the shipwrecked vessel in the first place.
Fortunately, for some days after her rescue she had difficulty in speaking, the doctor attending her declaring it was the result of swallowing large amounts of sea water. He ordered her not to talk until the effects wore off.
As a result, Eliza listened to the conversations of those who frequented the sick room where she lay and by so doing learned that they believed she was the sole survivor of the Balladeer, a ship which had foundered on Lye rock, close to where she had been washed ashore, victim of the ferocious storm which had wrecked so many other ships in the Bristol Channel.
By listening and not talking, Eliza had been able to mentally build up a new identity for herself – including a new name. She would still be Eliza, but it would now be Eliza Smith and not Brooks, a girl whose working life would follow closely upon the life she had known, but leaving out her conviction and sentence of transportation and bypassing those incidents in her life which might lead anyone with an inquiring mind to learn of her true past.
She was also deliberately vague about the actualities of her survival, an attitude supported by the doctor attending her. He declared her to be suffering from the trauma of her recent experience, advising Alice that she should not be questioned on the subject. It was, he said, something with which she would come to terms ‘in the fullness of time’.
Eliza was less reticent about the duties she had performed as a housemaid when Alice tentatively suggested she might like to work at the rectory. She was desperately eager to be taken into the household of Reverend David Kilpeck and his sister.
Should the authorities discover that Eliza Brooks was alive and free, she would be taken back into custody and the sentence of the London judge carried out. On the other hand, Eliza Smith could lead a comfortable enough life here in Cornwall, far from those who had once known her. At least, until she had grown old enough for her appearance to have changed sufficiently to fool anyone who might have known the other Eliza well enough to be able to identify her.
Chapter Twelve
‘DO YOU THINK Eliza is well enough now to answer a few questions about the shipwreck?’
It was almost a fortnight after the storms that had caused havoc to shipping in the Western Approaches and Lieutenant Jory Kendall was paying a visit to the Trethevy rectory. In response to his report on the ships wrecked along the North Cornwall coast on that eventful night he had received a letter from the Admiralty, requesting more details in respect of the loss of the Balladeer.
‘She is physically well enough,’ Alice replied, ‘but she becomes quite upset if the shipwreck is mentioned and there are great gaps in her memory of all that happened to her on that night.’
‘It’s hardly surprising,’ the coast guard officer said, sympathetically. ‘She is only a young girl and it was a horrific and terrifying experience for her. She is very, very lucky to have survived at all, only a handful of people were rescued from the ships lost that night. Three went down with the loss of everyone on board. I wouldn’t be asking her any questions at all but the master of Balladeer was related to a senior officer at the Admiralty who wants to know whether it is possible one of the bodies found might possibly be that of his relative. I don’t know whether Eliza saw any of them?’
Alice shook her head. ‘She was
terribly confused and far too ill to attend the funeral … but I saw the bodies and the men were all young, far too young to be master of a ship. Is that all you wish to speak to Eliza about?’
‘Yes … well no, actually, but it is nothing important. For some reason, probably purely because of the interest someone in the Admiralty has in the ship, they have sent me a list of passengers and crew. The name of Eliza Smith isn’t among them – although I have to admit there is nothing particularly unusual in that. The passenger lists of most ships are notoriously inaccurate, mostly through sheer inefficiency on the part of those making them, although sometimes it is because someone has taken the fare and kept it for himself. However, I thought I might mention it.’
‘You may, if you wish, she is sitting out in the sunshine at the back garden, but I believe I can give you an answer. A lady booked passage on the Balladeer for herself and a maid. At the very last moment the maid decided she did not want to leave England and the woman found Eliza to take her place shortly before the ship set sail for America. She probably did not even think about changing the name on the passenger list for a servant travelling with her. I have spoken to Eliza about the ship itself and she is very vague about it, but that is hardly surprising either. She went on board in the dark and the vessel set sail the same night, running into such bad weather when it left the Thames that she and her employer never left their cabin before the ship ran into trouble. At some stage when the ship was in distress she and her mistress were put into a boat in a vain attempt to reach safety. I think we both know what happened afterwards.’
Jory Kendall nodded sympathetically. ‘I have experienced a great many storms at sea, some can be thoroughly alarming, even for a sailor. I can only imagine how Eliza must have felt. The poor girl would have been terrified. I don’t need to trouble her right now, if at all, but what is going to happen to her when she is well? Will she return to London and her parents?’
Beyond the Storm Page 6