by Maryk Lewis
the mischief, a dour Scottish shepherd, also pointed out that Mr Verity was a much more powerfully-built man than Mr Rutherford, so the punishments would not be equal. Both culprits should get their due three strokes of the cane from the same man.
“I’ll toss you for it,” Mr Rutherford offered, taking out a coin.
The complainant was aghast. “Tossing a coin on a Sunday!” he burst out. “You’re no better than they are.”
“Oh, yes, I...I didn’t think,” Henry Rutherford stuttered, taking off his spectacles and polishing them on his sleeve. “What do you recommend?”
“Whoever’s man is the older,” the Scotsman suggested. “The older must be chiefly responsible for the wrongdoing.”
That proved to be Mr Rutherford’s one, and so he drew the unpleasant task of administering the cane to them both. He did it with the boatswain’s cane in the captain’s cabin. Gil was called in as one of the witnesses.
He was trembling when he came back to his own cabin, where Sarah was just settling Phyllis down for a nap.
“You didn’t like that, did you,” Sarah observed.
“It’s barbaric,” Gil said. “Even though Henry did the actual caning, I’m still tainted with it. There are better ways of handling these things.”
“Why did Mr Rutherford do all the caning?” Sarah asked, and when Gil explained, she laughed sourly. “That’s great,” she said. “You couldn’t toss a coin because it’s Sunday, but you could go by whichever of them chanced to be born first. The one is as much gambling as the other.”
“Don’t ask for logic in human affairs,” Gil told her. “People see things the way they want to see them, and truth comes a poor second.”
Treasure hunts were very popular with the children, even though there were restrictions on where the written clues could be hidden, and the places the children were allowed to go in seeking them. The clues had to be hidden during the hours of darkness, when all the children were in their bunks, and the game could not start until the last child had completed the day’s school assignments; more or less the middle of the afternoon. Gil was careful to see that assignments were not too onerous on the days when a treasure hunt was scheduled. The treasure was always chocolates or sweets, something that could be shared out.
Doctor Reade often arranged to have an issue of lime juice about the time a treasure hunt was finishing. That way there was a treat even for those who had missed out on the treasure. Everybody had the lime juice. It was a remedy against scurvy, a disease which affected people who went too long without fresh fruit or vegetables
Nobody knew anybody who had ever had scurvy, but all knew that it made your teeth fall out, and your blood go white. That’s what the old sailors said anyway.
Jess wondered about that. Her mother had warned her never to believe anything that sailors said. Now everybody seemed to think that what they said was important. It was a funny world.
Making puddings was a favourite occupation.
Every second day, instead of bread, flour was given out. It gave Angus a rest from the bread making, and freed his ovens for other purposes. Besides flour, there was an issue of baking powder, suet, and sugar, currants, and raisins, dried plums, sometimes dates.
The suet had to be washed. Sarah said so. There were some who didn’t think it necessary, and in some cooking teams there were arguments about it, but there were no arguments in the teams where Sarah gave advice. The Gordon sisters, of course, were not members of any team, having all their meals with the cabin passengers or the crew. There were a number of teams, however, where nobody knew much about cooking, and that is where Sarah and one or two others had to help out.
Much of what Sarah advised was what she had only just learned herself. Auld Maggie was a rich source of knowledge, but most folk could not understand her Shetlandic speech. Others who could give good advice were not listened to, but everybody listened to Sarah, in spite of her youth.
She was promised in marriage for one thing, and that in itself made her almost an adult. The marriage, when it came would complete the process. There were women on board twice and three times her age who were not treated with the same respect, because they had no men of their own. Women at that time drew their station in life from their husbands. If they didn’t have one, or the prospect of one, then they were considered of little account. Daughters of the nobility fared somewhat better than the common folk, but even for them being unmarried was a disadvantage.
Sarah’s other strength was in being one of the school teachers. She might be new to the role, but few on board were aware of that. She was already established as Gil Inkster’s assistant when the rest of the passengers, and a large part of the crew, came aboard. She had acted with authority from the moment when they first met her. Now nobody thought to question that authority. After all, school teachers knew all about everything, didn’t they?
Besides, she had the backing not only of Gil Inkster, but also of everybody who mattered from the cook to the captain. Perhaps an exception might have been Henry Rutherford and his wife, who were very conscious of the Gordon sisters having started out as steerage passengers, but those two were at least wise enough to keep their thoughts to themselves.
For the puddings all the children attached to a cooking team had turns at stirring the mixture. The biggest bowls available were filled with flour, and grated suet, and sugar and spice and all things nice. The dry mixture was stirred first by the smallest child, to thoroughly mix all the ingredients. Then a little water was added. That made the mixture harder to stir, and the smallest child soon ran out of breath.
A little more water, and a slightly bigger stirrer, brought the mixture to a more suitable consistency, before that child too had to give up. Bigger and bigger children stirred for longer and longer periods, each improving the pudding just that much more. At each stage everybody had to have a taste to check. How would they ever know whether the pudding was getting better or not, if they didn’t keep tasting it to find out?
Finally, after much stirring, and much licking of fingers, the baking powder was added, and the whole gooey mess was tipped out on to a clean cloth. All four of the corners were drawn together, and tied with a string, to form a large ball with a loop on the top. With a broom handle threaded through the loop, two of the children carried the pudding to the galley, where Angus MacGillivray lowered it into a huge cauldron of boiling water.
His stove was covered with several of those cauldrons, each criss-crossed with broom handles supporting puddings.
It was up to each cooking team to come back for their puddings when they considered them to be cooked. All Angus did was to lower the puddings into the boiling water, and take them out again on request. If they were not properly cooked, that was not his fault.
Samantha eyed the pudding making with her mouth watering. It was all below the dignity of the cabin passengers, of course. They had the cook to prepare their meals. All this mucky pudding prodding and finger licking was for those commoners in steerage.
“Is Mr MacGillivray making us a plum pudding?” she asked Jess, while they were playing chess in the hospital flat.
“Not so far as I know,” Jess answered, her attention with a possible bishop move three turns ahead. “I think he was doing a rice pudding for us, or perhaps it was tapioca.”
“I dinna want nae more sago the noo,” said David Selkirk, who was on cabin rations while he was in the hospital flat. “Couldna ye charm the makings o’ a duff oota auld Angus?”
“He doesn’t have the stuff to give away, you know,” Jess warned. “It all has to be accounted for.”
“He could maybe trade summat,” David suggested. “There’s me baccy I canna smoke the whiles I’m in here.”
No smoking was allowed below decks anywhere on the ship. The few aboard who did smoke had to indulge their habits on the leeward deck aft, and be sure that their pipes were well knocked out before they went below.
“You could stop smoking altogether,” Jess said. “You will have bro
ken the habit by the time you get out of here, and think of all the money you’ll save.”
“Think of all the comfort I’ll nae have,” he objected. “There isna much else fer a sailor.”
“And there won’t be, if you’re forever smelling of tobacco,” Jess told him. “I’m never going to marry a man who smokes.”
“Nor me,” Samantha agreed, “if I get the choice.”
“Aye, weel,” he sighed. “I’ll just have tae fin’ me a lassie wha’s nae sae choosey. Ye’ll be missin’ oot on a bonny lad, sae ye wull.”
“I’d rather have a plum duff just now,” Samantha said.
“Fancy coomin second tae a puddin’!” David complained in mock despair.
Twenty Two
“What about this pudding?” Samantha pursued. “I could put in a sixpence from my pocket money. I’ve not spent any since we started.”
Jess thought about that. She’d never had pocket money; never before known anybody who had.
“Mr MacGillivray has some socks that need darning,” she considered. “I could do that for my share.”
In the event there was another sixpence contributed by Charles, and Angus wanted nothing from Jess or Sarah for their share. Andy was also able to join their little clique, provided they confined their activities to the hospital flat. He was still in credit with Angus for the flying fish.
They missed out on the first pudding day,