Stay with Me

by Jessica Blair

  ‘Let them murmur - they daren’t take any action.’

  ‘Who knows? Men have their breaking point. You are driving them excessively hard in your attempt to bring Carnforth’s to the point of ruin so that then you can make them an offer they won’t be able to resist. It will be that or face ruin.’ His voice charged with warning, Peter added, ‘Remember, it needs both our signatures to agree such a purchase.’

  She stopped walking, grabbed his arm and pulled him round to face her. He looked into eyes that were burning with fury. ‘Don’t you ever dare to oppose me on this.’ Lena’s voice was cold. ‘Yes, one day I will have the firm that should be in the hands of a true Carnforth. And then I can pass it down, along with this one, to our son.’

  If she thought the mention of an heir would soften Peter’s attitude, she was mistaken. He reached out and, taking her shoulders in a firm grip, stared into her eyes with a resolve she had never seen before. ‘James has gone. Don’t destroy yourself or us in your pursuit of revenge. You can’t . . .’

  ‘There’s no such word as can’t!’ she raged. ‘Certainly not where a Carnforth is concerned - and I am the only true Carnforth. I will have what is mine by right!’ She stormed away from him.

  Sorrow was filling Peter’s heart as he stared after her. He was losing the girl he loved to an obsession that ran so deep he did not know how or if he could fight it.

  Ralph Bell leaned back in his chair and stared at the wall. He saw nothing; his mind was full of an idea that he had been formulating for a little while. With the last sailings for the Baltic approaching, the time was coming when he would have to try to implement it or forget it. But no one could accurately predict when the Baltic would become impassable ... Over the previous two months he had become increasingly irritated by being constantly outdone by Hustwick’s. Though he would never be able to prove it, he was sure they had mounted a campaign to bring Carnforth’s to its knees. To do that they needed inside information. Had they obtained it with someone’s deliberate intervention or merely interpreted rumour and gossip to their best advantage? He looked again at the notes he had made about sailings from Whitby to Hull and one stood out because it was regular - the Maid Marian, with Captain Washbrook in charge. He knew Washbrook as a competent and honourable man but he was also a gossip; his knowledge of activities in Whitby, even innocently aired, could have been picked up and acted upon by the Hustwicks. Ralph had no desire to tackle Washbrook direct and undermine his reputation, but maybe he could use him without the man knowing. The last piece of his plan was falling into place.

  Two weeks later, with the arrival of the John Carnforth from Riga, Captain Webb reported to Ralph Bell. ‘The locals believe we may not get another visit before the port is frozen in.’

  ‘From your own knowledge, do you think this is a fair assessment?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘I thought the time was drawing near.’ Ralph looked thoughtful, as if weighing up the action he should take. ‘Contact Captain Merryweather and Captain Turner for me and tell them I would like to see all three of you here in two hours’ time.’

  When they had assembled, Ralph made his orders clear. ‘I want your ships ready to sail the day after tomorrow.’

  Surprised, the three captains reminded him of the news from Riga.

  ‘I still want you to sail, but your destination must be known only to you. Word of it must not leak out. As far as your crews and the rest of Whitby are concerned, you are sailing to Riga. In fact, I want you to deviate from your course and put in at Lerwick. Remain there two days before returning to Whitby.’ He saw questions coming from the captains and held up his hands to stop them. ‘There is no need for you to know my reason for this, just carry out my orders, the most important of which is that you don’t breathe one word of them to anyone.’

  The captains acknowledged his instructions and left his office.

  Ralph left half an hour later, knowing Captain Washbrook was due to sail on his weekly run to Hull that evening and would no doubt follow his habit of relaxing in the Angel before heading for the Maid Marian. His surmise proved correct and, after collecting a tankard of ale, he found a chair within earshot of the captain. Ralph drank steadily and signalled to the landlord to bring him another.

  ‘You’re looking very thoughtful, Mr Bell,’ said the florid-faced landlord as he placed the tankard in front of Ralph.

  He gave a thin smile. ‘It isn’t always easy, sending men to sea wondering if you have made the right decision.’

  ‘I’m sure you won’t have blundered.’

  Ralph grimaced. ‘I’m not. The day after tomorrow I’m sending three ships on the evening tide to Riga, hoping to get some of the best timber to fulfil our orders before winter makes the voyage impossible. It’s tricky, judging it just right, and I certainly don’t want those ships iced in . . .’

  ‘Ma’am, I have news for you.’ Lena read eagerness in Captain Washbrook’s delivery as the morning light began to flood the sky in spite of the glowering clouds above. ‘Mr Bell is sending his three ships to Riga for quality timber, sailing tomorrow on the evening tide.’

  Lena hid her excitement. This was first-class information but she needed to react with caution. ‘You seem certain. You are sure this isn’t idle rumour?’

  ‘No, ma’am! I overheard Mr Bell myself, telling the landlord of the Angel. He wants to complete the voyage before winter sets in there.’

  Lena nodded and pursed her lips thoughtfully. ‘Good. And my thanks, Captain Washbrook.’ She took her copy of the Whitby Gazette from him and walked away. Her three ships were at their quays, having arrived back yesterday from the Baltic. Anger gripped her when she saw that some timber remained unloaded. According to her orders it should have been completed yesterday. Backs would have to bend today. If her ships were to outrun Carnforth’s vessels and pick up the cargo Ralph Bell had in mind, they needed to leave immediately. She quickened her step and headed for the quay where her ships were tied up.

  The captains were soon coming down the gangways, but before they reached Lena she saw Peter coming on to the quay. She cursed to herself; she would rather he had not been present.

  ‘I was surprised to find you gone,’ said Peter to his wife when he reached her. She was thankful he went on without waiting for an explanation, eyeing the three captains coming towards them. ‘What’s this - an early-morning conference?’ He sounded wary.

  Lena did not answer but acknowledged the captains’ greetings and then said sharply, ‘Why wasn’t the unloading completed yesterday?’

  ‘I told them it could be left until today,’ put in Peter quickly. ‘The crews had had a tough return voyage. I thought they deserved . . .’

  ‘I want those ships to sail for Riga today.’

  The captains looked astounded and all of them started to protest.

  ‘I’ll not countenance any objections,’ Lena said emphatically. ‘You have to sail today, so see to it. Hire stevedores to finish the unloading, get your victuals on board. Winter in the Baltic can’t be far off and I want another cargo of timber before that.’

  ‘Ma’am, there’s a chance that winter will come early there,’ said Captain Poulson.

  ‘And if it does, we either won’t get into port or there’s a chance we’ll be iced in,’ said Captain Checkton, adding his weight to Captain Poulson’s observation.

  ‘And there’s also a chance that none of it will happen,’ came Lena’s sharp retort.

  ‘But is it worth the risk?’ asked Peter quietly, close to her ear.

  She ignored him.

  ‘My men aren’t going to like it,’ objected Captain Goss.

  ‘They don’t have to like it,’ she snapped.

  ‘They’ll like it even less if this weather deteriorates.’ He raised his eyes to the quickly darkening sky.

  ‘Are they such weak-kneed ninnies?’ She saw anger rising in the three seafarers and moved quickly to quell it. ‘If you don’t sail, you get no pay for the voyage you have just c
ompleted.’

  ‘You can’t do that, ma’am,’ they protested.

  ‘I can. I hold the purse strings. You’ll get that pay when you have completed this coming voyage. Your men won’t need the money until they get back.’

  ‘Supposing they refuse?’ asked Captain Goss.

  ‘They’d be treated as mutineers, and you with them. Now, gentlemen, let’s have no more nonsense.’ Lena’s voice hardened. ‘You sail or you suffer the consequences. Now, move! I want those ships away.’

  Muttering among themselves, but knowing she held the upper hand, they went back aboard.

  Peter waited until they were out of earshot before turning on Lena. The glare he gave her froze her heart. ‘I kept from contradicting you in front of them but you are wrong, Lena. Those men are weary after the way you have been working them lately, with barely enough time ashore between voyages, and now this! An immediate turn-around without any respite, and withholding their pay until after this voyage? You are tempting trouble.’

  ‘I am their employer, I don’t have to be considerate.’

  ‘We employ them, not just you, and they deserve . . .

  ‘Peter, stop!’ she broke in. ‘If I hadn’t taken such decisions on important matters we would not be where we are today. Don’t you ever forget that.’

  His lips tightened. ‘And yet you still aren’t satisfied. You’d risk all to get this one shipment of timber. If those ships are iced in we’ll not be able to fulfil our trading with Spain, Portugal and the Mediterranean this year. Think what a loss that would be.’

  ‘It won’t happen! They’ll be into Riga and out again before the ice. I’ll not let Carnforth’s get that timber . . .’ The words were out before Lena realised it. How she wished she could unsay them!

  Peter glared furiously at her. ‘So that’s it? Carnforth’s! As I thought, you’re obsessed with getting . . .’

  ‘And I will get it!’ Her eyes were wild with desire for revenge.

  ‘Not through this voyage. I’ll stop it!’ Peter started towards the ships.

  ‘And then you will never have a son!’ Lena’s threat sent a shiver down his spine and stopped him in his tracks.

  He turned and their eyes met, hers triumphant, his bereft. Lena gave her husband a supercilious smile and walked away.

  Rain began to fall from the dark, threatening sky.

  Captain Goss, shoulders hunched against the wind and rain, strode along the quay to the William Hustwick. He was quickly at the Captain’s cabin.

  ‘Are we sailing?’

  ‘I agree the weather’s not good, but I think it has eased a little. If we are worried about conditions in the Baltic, I think we sail now. And if the situation there looks to be against us, even slightly, we turn straight back. Mrs Hustwick can’t stand against that.’ Captain Checkton pushed himself from his chair. ‘Let’s see what Captain Poulson thinks.’

  ‘We’ve got to be of one mind on this,’ pointed out Captain Goss as they came out on deck.

  They were halfway down the gangway when they heard the clatter of hooves and saw a carriage approaching.

  ‘This will be her,’ muttered Captain Goss. ‘Not trusting us to sail without her cracking the whip.’

  They waited on the quay as Lena drew the carriage to a halt. ‘I thought you’d be underway,’ she shouted. ‘You are not afraid of a bit of wind and rain, are you?’ She fought to prevent her horse from being spooked by the gusty wind.

  The two men, tight-lipped, looked at each other and knew that neither of them would stand being labelled a coward.

  ‘No, ma’am,’ called Captain Checkton. ‘We were just going to make last-minute arrangements with Captain Poulson.’

  ‘No need, I’ll see that he’s ready. Get underway!’ Lena flicked the reins and sent the horse towards the William Hustwick.

  The two captains looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and returned to their ships.

  Lena felt exultant when, through the falling rain, she watched the three vessels set sail. They would beat Carnforth’s fleet to the Baltic and snatch another shipment of timber from under their noses, and then she would acquire even more of the orders the Whitby firm could not honour. Peter would have to admit that she was right and, considering her promise to bear him a son, would have to agree to put in a bid when Carnforth’s inevitable collapse occurred.

  Unloading the remaining timber before preparing to sail had meant the three ships leaving the Humber late in the afternoon. If the captains had had their way they would have waited until the following day but, with Mrs Hustwick’s threats hanging over them, they dare not hold back.

  Sailing again did not sit easy with the crews. Lena had forced this last turn-around to be sharper than most and had not taken into consideration the weather portents which, with sailors’ knowledge, they eyed with suspicion as their ships left the wind-lashed Humber and met the crash of a fast-running sea. The gathering darkness had been brought early by the heavy clouds overhead, that lashed men and ships with driving rain.

  Bows dipped, scooped up water, and sent it streaming along the desk. The captains kept a watchful eye on conditions and their crews, cajoling them to be vigilant about their work lest one moment of slackness jeopardise the safety of all on board, but they knew all the care in the world could be undone by a ferocious storm. Many a hardened sailor glanced at the brooding clouds and offered up a prayer for a safe passage.

  The ships ploughed on but, in the gathering darkness, with rain forming an impenetrable curtain, it was inevitable they would lose sight of each other. When that happened great vigilance would be required. Who knew whether they would move further apart or closer together, with the subsequent risk of collision?

  As darkness shrouded the Seagull, Captain Goss raised his eyes to the heavens and cursed. ‘Damn that woman! I’d give my wage to have her here on this deck now.’ The ship lurched as another wave battered her. He staggered, only just managing to keep his feet, and braced himself for the next impact. He half expected a shout of ‘Man overboard’ to come, but it didn’t and he was thankful. The weather was atrocious, the high sea running viciously, but if it got no worse they could win through.

  It seemed as if his hopes were being fulfilled; in fact, he thought he sensed an easing in the storm, but from long experience knew those hopes could soon be dashed and turned into a nightmare.

  Standing close to the helmsman, he tensed, every nerve in his body crying out that what he had just sensed was wrong. A change in wind direction! It was coming from the north-east and it was strengthening. Orders flew thick and fast but the majority were torn away by the wind. Confusion reigned on deck and with it helplessness which turned to horror at the sight of dark, towering waves flecked with wind-driven white, bearing down on them.

  Men grabbed anything they could hold on to. The first wave struck then, sending the Seagull lurching and listing alarmingly to port. Miraculously she righted herself, only to find she was being swept along at the sea’s will.

  Battle as he might to bring order and maintain a situation in which the ship could withstand all the storm could throw at her, Captain Goss realised he was losing out to the ferocious conditions. Two sharp timber-rending bangs pierced the howling of the wind; Goss knew his masts were gone, which was confirmed when one crashed on to the deck, the other into the heaving water. They were now at the mercy of the sea.

  How long they were driven at its will his numbed mind could not tell him, but eventually one horror was replaced by another when looming shapes, darker than the night, came into view. Before a warning could be raised there was the tearing sound of timber being ripped away from the vessel’s side. The Seagull lurched on, as if intent on driving into the wall of rock that towered above only yards ahead. Just as suddenly she stopped, with the sea pounding over her, before grounding herself on the rocks at the foot of the treacherous cliffs.

  Captain Goss knew he was powerless now; the crew accepted it would be every man for himself, but each would
help a mate if he could. A giant wave swept over the ship. Goss heard cries of horror all around him, but could see no one. Screams rent the night only to be stifled by the wind and the greedy sea, eager for more victims. Goss grabbed a rail, steadied himself and hunched his body against the next wave with the tell-tale white flecks signalling its ferocity. He held on and was left with water streaming from him, but he had survived. He knew he must try to find safety ashore or else be battered to pieces like his ship before the unrelenting sea. As he straightened he glanced seawards to try to estimate when the next wave would strike, then stiffened with horror.

  Two black shapes, held high on a wave, were thrown together in a rending collision, tossed this way and that by the sea’s will and then sucked down into the maelstrom.

  Captain Goss felt sick with dismay and helplessness. The men he knew and had talked to earlier in Hull were all gone. He let the next wave break over him then slid over the side. He found purchase between some rocks and, with difficulty, scrambled clear of the sea that would draw him back to join his drowned crew.

  Captain Goss stirred. There were voices talking far away, a note of urgency in them. They became more distinct and seemed to be directed at him. His eyes flickered open but he shut them again quickly. Too bright! Daylight? Someone was touching him.

  ‘Can you hear me?’

  He opened his eyes again. Squinting up, he became aware of a circle of people surrounding him. A bearded face leaned towards his.

  ‘Can you hear me?’ the man said again.

  Captain Goss nodded, and saw the relief on the face above reflected in the others around him. He struggled to sit up and felt strong arms help him.

  ‘Do you want to stand?’

  He hesitated, opened his eyes wider, then nodded and was immediately assisted to his feet. He swayed a little, and was thankful for the support.

  Everyone was curious to know more about him but, having been forewarned by the bearded man, did not crowd him.