The Little Ship

by Margaret Mayhew

  ‘Matt will help me.’ She took one handle, Matt the other and walked off barefoot through the grass, her red shoes dangling from her other hand. Guy followed with the rug, fuming, Lizzie anxiously bringing up the rear. Of course, the place Anna had found was much better, which did nothing to improve his temper. He opened up the hamper again while Lizzie spread out the rug. Mrs Woodgate had done her usual stuff: egg and tomato sandwiches with cress, sausage rolls, fruit cake, ginger beer. All pretty good. He handed the Bakelite boxes to Lizzie who set them out on the rug, together with the picnic plates. ‘Dig in everybody.’ He was ravenously hungry and shoved the sausage rolls under Anna’s nose. ‘Come on, then. Take one.’

  ‘What are these?’

  ‘You can see what they are. Sausage rolls.’

  ‘She can’t eat them,’ Lizzie said. ‘Not if the sausages are pork.’

  ‘Why on earth not?’

  ‘They’re not allowed to.’

  Matt took one. ‘Jewish people are forbidden to eat pork. It’s in their religion.’ He chewed away. ‘Not sure what these are made of, I’m afraid, Anna. Better not risk it.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake … does it really matter?’

  ‘It does to her, Guy. Have a sandwich instead, Anna.’

  ‘Perhaps she’s not allowed to eat eggs,’ he said sarcastically. ‘Or tomatoes. Or cress.’ He knew he was behaving badly, but he couldn’t help it. He flung himself down on the grass, at a distance from the rug, out in the sun. Thank God he was Church of England and there was none of that sort of nonsense. He stretched out on his back and chewed on a sausage roll. The others were jabbering away – Lizzie’s voice high and clear as a bell, Matt’s all croaky because it was breaking, Anna’s huskily foreign. They were talking about school food but he only half-listened. He was looking up into the clear blue sky and thinking about flying. One day he’d be up there, soaring about in a machine that would climb like an eagle and dive like one, too: plummet straight down from a great height onto its prey. He’d be eighteen next year and taking his Oxford Entrance. He’d go up the following autumn in 1937 when he was nineteen and join the University Air Squadron straight away. Train on something like a de Havilland Moth, most probably. Bound to be rather boring to start with but, later on, when he’d joined the Royal Air Force, he’d go on to something really wizard. Even better than the Hawker Super Fury. Even faster. Even more powerful. Two-winged like the eagle …

  ‘Would you like a sandwich, Guy?’ Lizzie was standing above him, thin legs streaked with dried mud. She was holding out an open Bakelite box.

  He sat up. ‘Thanks. Sorry, I was being jolly unsociable.’

  ‘We’ve already started on Mrs Woodgate’s fruit cake, I’m afraid. It’s awfully good. Would you like some?’

  ‘I’d sooner have a sandwich first.’

  ‘Shall I get you some ginger beer?’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’ Funny little Lizzie, he thought; always so anxious to please. If he’d had a sister he’d have liked her to be just like Lizzie. When she brought him the sandwich and the ginger beer, holding the beaker carefully so it didn’t spill, he asked her if she’d been doing any of her painting lately. She shook her head.

  ‘Not much, actually. We had end-of-term exams, so it’s been a bit busy. Then we came here.’

  ‘Did you get good marks?’

  ‘Not specially. Anna did, though. She was top in French and Scripture.’

  ‘Scripture?’

  ‘Well, she knows the Old Testament awfully well, you see. Much better than any of us. She was second in Maths, too, and tied third in Geography. They’re going to move her up two forms next term so she’ll be with her own age. Now that she speaks English all right.’

  ‘When on earth is she going back to Austria?’

  ‘I don’t know. Her parents came to England to see her a few months ago and she tried awfully hard to get them to take her home with them, but they wouldn’t. She was dreadfully upset.’

  He chewed on the sandwich. ‘Well, it seems a lot of fuss over nothing to me.’ He didn’t want to talk any more about Anna. ‘You must do some painting while you’re here, Lizzie.’

  ‘I did bring my paints,’ she said.

  ‘There you are, then. Make sure you use them.’

  She knelt down on the grass beside him. ‘Anna wanted to know if we could go down the river to the sea. I said I’d ask you.’

  ‘She can ask me herself.’

  ‘She doesn’t think you’ll say yes – not if she asks.’

  ‘That’s rubbish,’ he said, nettled. It made him sound a real ogre. ‘We can’t today, actually, because I promised Mother I’d stay upstream. She worries – ever since, Matt, you know … But, if the weather stays OK, she might say it’s all right to take you.’

  ‘Anna wants to see the North Sea again, that’s the thing.’

  ‘What for? It can get jolly rough out there.’

  ‘She came over that way. From the Continent.’

  ‘Yes, she would have done. But it’s tricky sailing with all the sandbanks and the tides and everything. It’s OK with me and Matt, but I wouldn’t want to risk getting into any difficulties with you girls. I don’t think you’d like it much, Lizzie. You’d get scared.’

  ‘Not with you.’

  He was rather chuffed by the solemn way she said that: as though he were infallible. Not true, of course, but he still liked to hear it. He smiled at her. ‘Well we could probably go a little way out and she could take a look. I’ll ask Mother.’ There was a loud peal of laughter from Anna who was talking to Matt. He added sourly, ‘But I doubt she’ll enjoy it.’

  Matt was hunting for a knife. ‘Have some more cake Anna.’ She couldn’t eat the sausage rolls and he could tell she hadn’t much liked the egg and tomato sandwiches which had gone all soggy, but she’d had two bits of cake.

  ‘Thank you.’ She watched him cutting. ‘You are very clever with your hand, Matt. You manage so well with just the thumb and finger.’

  He went red; he’d meant to use his good left hand and forgotten. ‘Lots of practice, I suppose.’

  ‘You do not mind my saying this?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘You are just as quick as anybody. And so quick in the boat, with ropes and things.’

  ‘Not quick enough sometimes.’

  ‘Ah, when you turned over … what was the word?’

  ‘Capsized.’

  ‘Yes, capsized. Was it frightening?’

  ‘It was rather.’

  ‘I should have been very frightened. And the sea so cold. And uneven.’

  ‘Rough,’ he corrected. ‘We say rough.’

  ‘I must remember – rough. When I came to England on the boat it was rough, even in summer, and I was very sick. I felt so ill. Very, very ill. I wanted to die.’

  ‘The North Sea’s often like that, I’m afraid. And it’s always cold.’ He suppressed a shudder.

  ‘But still I would like to go to see it again,’ Anna said. ‘I should feel closer to my home. Can you understand?’

  ‘Yes, I can. I expect I’d feel the same if I was on the other side of it.’

  ‘I knew that you would. Oh, no! There is an insect on this cake, Matt.’

  ‘It’s only an ant.’ He flicked it away for her.

  ‘Better than a fly.’ She said it loud enough for Guy to hear, and laughed. ‘Do you know, Matt, I have never had a picnic before.’

  ‘Never?’ He was astonished.

  ‘Never.’ She wriggled her bare toes. ‘I think it is a very English sort of thing. To sit on the earth outside and eat food with insects on it.’

  He grinned. ‘I suppose it is. A bit mad.’

  ‘When I first came to this country, I thought all the English were mad. Now I know that is not true. Only some of them. You are a very nice people. Very kind. But I still miss my home and my own country.’

  ‘It must be awful, having to be away so long. Won’t your parents let you go back soon?’


  ‘They say not yet. Always, it is not yet. They are still afraid.’

  It seemed extraordinary to him. He couldn’t imagine having to stay away from England. ‘What’s Vienna like?’

  She sighed. ‘How to tell you, Matt … Vienna is a most romantic city. We have the most beautiful old buildings – some of them very grand like the Hofburg, the Staatsoper, the Kunsthistoriscbes Museum and, of course, the Stephansdom – that is the great cathedral in the very middle. And there are beautiful parks where you can walk, and long streets with many wonderful shops, and cafés where you can sit and listen to an orchestra playing the music of Vienna while you eat chocolate sachertorte. Everywhere there is music. Great music. Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert all lived there. So did Brahms and Bruckner and Mahler and the Strausses. It is a magic city—’

  Guy had got to his feet. ‘Well, let’s get on, if you two have quite finished yacking.’

  Anna saluted him. ‘Yes, Captain.’

  ‘It’s aye, aye, actually, Anna, if you want to get it right.’

  ‘Eye? Why eye?’

  ‘Not eye – aye. A-Y-E. It means yes.’

  ‘And you say it twice? Yes, yes.’

  ‘Oh, forget it.’

  She was mocking Guy, of course, and he knew it. Matt saw him practically grinding his teeth. They packed up the picnic things and Matt and Guy carried the basket back across the field, the girls trailing along behind.

  ‘She gives me the pip, that girl. Miss Clever Clogs.’

  ‘Well, actually she is rather clever. Lizzie told me. She says she’s brilliant at school now.’

  Guy stopped and glowered at him. ‘Whose side are you on, anyway, Matt?’

  ‘I’m not on anyone’s.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t like her either.’

  ‘I didn’t much at first, but now I like her rather a lot.’

  Guy strode on. ‘Well, as far as I’m concerned the sooner she goes back to Vienna the better.’

  ‘She can’t, Guy. That’s what’s so awful for her. Her parents won’t let her because they’re still afraid. They must really have it in for the Jews over there.’

  ‘I expect it’s their own fault. They probably get everyone’s goat, like she does.’

  They’d reached the spot where the Rose waited. The falling tide had left her several yards from the water. ‘Untie her, Matt. The girls can jolly well help shove.’ It took all four of them to get the heavy boat back into the river, stern first. Anna, of course, couldn’t push and hold her skirts up at the same time. She stood knee-deep in the water with white muslin floating round her.

  ‘I am soaking now, Guy.’

  ‘You’ll dry off soon enough. Next time wear something more sensible, like Lizzie.’

  ‘I have not smalls.’

  ‘Shorts you mean.’

  ‘Ja, shorts.’

  ‘Then you’d better get some. You can’t wear that frock again.’ Guy swung himself on board. Matt held onto the forestay keeping Rose to wind while Guy put the rudder back and then hauled away on the halyard. The red sail rode up the mast and when it was at the top he made the halyard fast on the cleats under the thwart. ‘Come on, you two, get on, unless you want to be left behind.’

  ‘Our feet are full of mud. It is horrible. It smells.’

  ‘Just shut up and get on board, Anna, will you. Or I will leave you behind. OK, Matt, push her off.’

  Matt shoved hard on the bows and scrambled aboard. They sailed back downstream, against the wind, short-tacking from one bank to the other. Anna ostentatiously wrung her skirts out over the side and Guy, just as pointedly, ignored her.

  Liebe Mina,

  I am writing this at the cousins’ home by the sea. You remember my telling you about Guy (the one who is so pleased with himself) and Matt, the younger one? I am sitting in a deck-chair on the terrace at the back of the house in the sun, which is shining for once. Lizzie has gone to do some painting by the river – she’s very good at painting, by the way, though she doesn’t believe it when you tell her so. The cousins are practising playing the English game, cricket, on the grass. It is a very dull game indeed. Somebody throws a ball at you and you hit it with a wooden bat and then run backwards and forwards. That’s all that seems to happen. Guy is meant to be wonderful at it and he has just hit the ball so hard it has gone into the middle of some bushes so poor Matt has had to go off and find it. The dog has gone to help him, too. Did I tell you about the black dog? He has a strange name, Nereus. Matt told me that it’s the Greek name for some wise old man of the sea. The father is a sailor in the Navy and he chose it.

  Yesterday we went out in their boat – the cousins and Lizzie and me. It is a funny old thing meant for catching fish and not at all beautiful, but it feels very safe. I think Guy is ashamed of it because he would like to sail something much smarter and better. He is like that. The weather was very hot and it would have been fun except for Guy ordering everybody about. We took a picnic with us (the English love picnics) and ate it in a field by the river. Matt asked me about Vienna but it was so difficult to describe it to him and it made me sad even to speak of it. How I miss home, Mina! I try so hard to be happy here but whenever I start to think of Vienna I am just as homesick as ever. The cousins’ mother has said we can take the boat down the river as far as the sea tomorrow, so long as the weather stays good. It’s the North Sea and it will make me feel closer to you all just to look at it. If only I knew how to sail a boat I think I should just steal the cousins’ one and sail across and find my way home, whatever Mama and Papa said.

  Matt is hitting the ball now. He has a crippled right arm which means he can’t do as well as Guy, which is bad luck for him. I like him much better, though. You would like him, too. He is gentle and kind and he has the nicest eyes and smile.

  Will you go and see Grandmama for me? She writes to me and says that everything is well with her but I should like to be sure of it. Would you go and see for yourself?

  Matt has just hit the ball into the bushes so that Guy has to go and hunt for it now. I clapped very loudly. I hope it takes him a long time to find it.

  I will write again next week when we are back in London.

  Deine Anna.

  The fear had come back. He’d been quite all right up until the moment when they’d reached the point where the estuary merged with the sea. The wind had suddenly freshened and the wavelet crests began breaking into glassy foam, and Rose had started to pitch and roll. The fear began with small shivers inside him and then welled up into a blind panic that made him physically shake all over so that he could hardly hold onto the jib sheet. Matt fought it down. There was nothing to be afraid of. No gremlins of the deep waiting. Nothing evil. Treat the sea with respect, Father always said, and she’ll respect you. He’d nearly drowned with Bean Goose because he’d been stupid, not for any other reason. It had all been his fault. After a bit the shaking stopped and he felt better. Nobody seemed to have noticed. Guy was too busy helming and poor Lizzie was feeling very sick and had her head stuck over the side. Anna, sitting athwart, had her eyes fixed straight ahead. She had borrowed an old pair of Guy’s navy rugger shorts and a green and navy striped rugger jersey. They were too big for her but Matt thought they suited her terrifically well.

  They were sailing with the tide and the Rose had charged downstream as though she wanted to get to the open sea as fast as she could. Matt fancied that she was remembering her fishing days and a greater freedom than the river. He could almost believe that ships had souls, which was why he hated to think of poor Bean Goose.

  They were nearing the end of a starboard tack. ‘Ready about.’ Guy yelled it loud and clear. ‘Anna, get your head down.’ She was still gazing ahead and didn’t seem to have heard so Matt reached out and grabbed her. ‘Lee-oh.’ The boom and the red sail swung over and filled again on the other side. The Rose heeled and wallowed to port as she changed tack and spray flew up. Lizzie, crouched miserably over the gunwale, got drenched. Anna, ignoring the spray,
pointed to a group of seals lying on a mud-bank.

  ‘Seehund! What are they in English?’

  ‘Seals,’ Matt told her.

  ‘I have never seen these except in a zoo.’ She turned to watch them flopping about. ‘They are so funny.’

  They sailed down the Whitaker channel between Buxey Sand and Foulness Sand. The wavelets grew bigger and sprouted white horses. The Rose was pitching and rolling much more strongly now, water sloshing over her bows, the spray slapping them in the face. Lizzie was clinging to the gunwale for dear life.

  ‘I’ll take her round the Whitaker buoy,’ Guy shouted. ‘Then we’ll head back.’

  Anna looked at him over her shoulder. ‘Oh, please, can we go further?’

  ‘No, we can’t.’

  ‘Please, Guy.’

  ‘Lizzie’s seasick, in case you hadn’t noticed.’

  ‘Oh … poor Lizzie. I did not see. I am sorry.’

  Anna was neither seasick nor afraid. She went on gazing longingly out to sea and kept looking back as they rounded the beacon and sailed back towards the mouth of the river. Now they were against the tide and Rose had to battle her way upstream. It was nearly low water and the flats on each side were uncovered, curlews walking about and plunging their curved bills deep into the wet mud. The water surface was calmer and Lizzie had stopped hanging over the side and sat chalk-faced. Matt tried to jolly her up. ‘Look, Lizzie, there’s another heron.’ She turned to watch it flap downstream and managed a smile. Anna hadn’t seemed to notice the bird. She hadn’t said a word for ages and was staring out over the mud-flats. ‘Did you see the heron, Anna?’

  She turned her head. ‘What, Matt?’

  ‘The heron? That big bird that just flew over. Didn’t you see it?’

  ‘No, I did not see it.’

  She looked awfully sad and he tried to jolly her up too. ‘They’ve got long legs and beaks so they can stand in the water and catch fish. You probably have them in Austria.’

  ‘Ja … perhaps.’

  ‘Those black and white birds over there with orange beaks are oyster-catchers.’

  ‘Ach so …’

  ‘And the little ones running about are called stints.’