The Little Ship

by Margaret Mayhew

  ‘So you left him with them.’

  ‘They promised they would look after him. There was a woman officer there – very motherly – and she promised to take good care of him until the aunt arrived. There was nothing more I could do. Perhaps one day I may go and see him. I have the address.’

  ‘He was lucky his mother chose you. Someone else might have not bothered so much.’

  Anna was silent for a moment. ‘I never really believed my parents about the hatred for the Jews, you know, until I saw the faces of those people on the train, Lizzie. I was afraid. Really afraid. It was evil. And then when I saw the men at Frankfurt questioning that poor Jewish boy, stopping him from getting on the train, I was even more frightened. Until then I had thought that Mama and Papa were making a big fuss over nothing. But now I know that they are right.’

  ‘Ease the jib, Matt.’ Guy yelled it at him above the wind. ‘OK,’ he yelled back. He eased the sheet a little. The tide had swept them out from the wide mouth of the river estuary into the open sea. Waves thudded against the boat’s hull, water breaking high over her bows and sloshing around in the bilge. The Rose ploughed on steadily. Foulness Point was a mile astern when they hit a sudden rain-squall that blotted out the fast receding coastline. Matt was half blinded by rain and spray as they beat their way to windward through the squall.

  When Guy had suggested the trip he’d gone along with the idea at once, faking keenness. In his guts, he’d been gripped by the same old terror. The river was one thing; the sea another. Guy, poring happily over charts, hadn’t a clue how he felt, of course. And that was the way he wanted it: he’d fight his demons alone. He was deeply ashamed of his fear. It was pathetic and weak. Guy would be sympathetic, but mystified; Father appalled that a son of his could possibly be scared stiff of going to sea. Mother would worry for him and she’d probably try to stop him sailing at all. But he’d never conquer the fear unless he carried on.

  The further away from land, the worse his terror became and he started to get the shakes again. The jib sheet kept slipping from his grasp.

  ‘Matt … for God’s sake, wake up! What the hell’s the matter with you? Can’t you keep the sheet in tight?’

  ‘Sorry.’ He pulled it in hurriedly.

  The Rose butted her way northerly. They were still beating to wind and Guy began hauling in the mainsheet, ready to tack. The instant the boom went over, he let it out all the way. He looked in his element at the helm. Completely at home. No fears or doubts at all. Matt would have given anything to be like Guy.

  The weather worsened and they were making little headway and taking a real buffeting. It took them almost two hours to get within sight of West Mersea at the mouth of the river Black-water. To Matt’s relief, Guy decided against trying to go any further. ‘Better go about,’ he shouted. ‘Let’s put in a reef before we head for home. Lower the main halyard, will you, Matt.’ The Rose wallowed heavily, her canvas flapping and cracking like pistol shots. The manoeuvre seemed to take for ever. ‘Like to take her now, Matt?’ Guy was offering him the tiller and mainsheet. He shook his head. ‘It’s OK, thanks.’ Coward, he thought, wretchedly. Coward.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘The English play at their sports, I think. They do not take them seriously.’ Herr von Reichenau watched a group of fourth-formers waiting to take part in a swimming race, laughing and jostling each other.

  Otto said, ‘I thought so too. But when they stop playing the fool they try as hard as we do.’

  ‘But they will not win unless they prepare. A school sports day would be very different in our country.’ Herr von Reichenau looked around at the other visitors strolling across the lawns: the summer frocks and shady hats, the blazers and panamas, the old school ties. ‘This is a social event, that’s all. However, it is very pleasant. All very English. You must introduce me to some of your friends.’

  Otto opened his mouth to say that he had no friends at the school and then shut it again. His father would view it as a serious failure on his part – the failure to make useful contacts. He checked his watch. ‘My race will start in approximately thirty-five minutes.’

  ‘Approximately?’

  ‘Sometimes they are late.’

  ‘I am not very surprised. What race is this?’

  ‘The crawl. We do six lengths. We have already done the heats and this is the final for the cup.’

  His father nodded. ‘See that you win.’

  It was Guy that he must beat. The other four would be easy – his time was much faster than theirs – but Guy had only been two seconds slower. Otto lined up at the shallow end of the pool, ready for a racing start. His heart was pounding furiously. He wanted to win. He must win. Not just to please his father, but for himself. If he could not make friends, at least he could win at sports. They would have to take note of him, congratulate him and clap him on the back, like they did with others. ‘Well done, Otto,’ they would say. ‘Jolly good show!’

  The whistle blew and he launched his body, fully outstretched, into the air. It hit the water flat with a stinging crack and he was into his stride at once, churning arm-over-arm down the length of the pool. At the end, he flipped into a fast turn and set off again. By the end of the third length he knew that he was ahead with only one other swimmer anywhere near him. And he could tell that it was Guy. He could hear the shouts and screams of encouragement from the spectators and knew they were for Guy, not him. He turned again for the fourth length but still he could not increase his lead and on the fifth he knew that Guy was closing the gap. As they turned for the final length they were almost level and the shouts for Guy roared in his ears. They drove him on. Made him fight the harder and swim as he had never swum before. When he flung his arm out to touch the end of the pool he was not sure, at first, which of them had won – until he heard the groans and the half-hearted claps and saw the disappointed faces looking down on him. Guy was holding out his hand across the water and he shook it firmly. Neither of them had the breath left to speak.

  ‘Bad luck, old chap. He just pipped you at the post. You swam like blazes.’

  Guy forced a smile. He’d won the cup for the past four years and he was sick as hell to have lost it this last summer term before he left the school. His father, though, would expect him to take defeat sportingly and act as though he didn’t mind. To lose the cup was bad enough but to lose it to von Reichenau was the end. ‘There’s still the hurdling,’ he said casually. ‘I might pick up a cup there.’

  ‘Do your best, Guy. You can’t do more.’

  The final of the hurdling was the last sports event of the day. Once again, he would be racing against von Reichenau and, once again, he knew that the race would be decided between the two of them. Warming up before the start he avoided looking at the German, who would be running three lanes away. He could sense the expectation among the spectators, hear the buzz of excitement. The school prided itself on its athletics, and the hurdling cup was specially prized. He would be expected to win. Everyone would be willing him to do so. If von Reichenau beat him it would be unpleasant for both of them. In spite of his deep disappointment over the swimming race he had felt embarrassed at the obvious favouritism shown. They should have applauded von Reichenau decently.

  He positioned himself carefully, head down, the tips of his fingers touching the grass, toes dug in, his whole body poised ready. When the starting pistol fired he took off like a rocket. The rest were somewhere behind him, except for von Reichenau on his right. He forced himself faster, hurtling over hurdle after hurdle, and streaking towards the finish. When he flung himself across the line there was a storm of cheering and clapping and people ran up and slapped him on the back as he bent over, gasping for breath. He knew that he must have won, but that it had been a pretty close thing. When he’d recovered he looked round for von Reichenau but he was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘You let him beat you, Otto. That was a pity.’

  ‘He is very fast. I was tired after the swimming.’


  ‘No excuses, please. You must be getting soft and out of condition. You are starting to be like the English. Perhaps it was not such a good idea for you to come here. When you join the German army you will need to be much tougher. Disciplined. Dedicated. Defeat is not a consideration – in any sphere. You understand that?’

  ‘Yes, of course, Father.’

  ‘What is the name of the youth who beat you?’

  ‘Ransome. Guy Ransome.’

  ‘What is his father? What work does he do?’

  ‘He is in the Royal Navy, I believe.’

  ‘Indeed? Is the son a friend of yours?’

  ‘Not precisely.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I should like to meet his father very much. Please introduce me at the first opportunity.’

  The sports prize-giving took place in the marquee. When Otto went up to receive his swimming cup, the applause was merely polite. When Guy went to collect his for the hurdling everybody cheered and clapped loudly. So much for the famous English sense of fairness, Otto thought bitterly. So much for doing the decent thing that they talked about so much.

  After the prize-giving tea was served: trays of soggy sandwiches and terrible cakes. Otto went in search of his father and found him talking with a bearded man and a woman in blue.

  ‘Ah, Otto, there you are. I have had the pleasure of meeting Captain and Mrs Ransome – the parents of Guy. You will wish to congratulate them, of course, on his fine victory over the hurdles. Allow me to present my son, Otto.’

  He shook their hands, bowing and clicking his heels smartly. ‘Splendid race you ran,’ the father said. ‘Gave Guy something to think about.’ The mother smiled at him. She was wearing the sort of floppy straw hat that seemed typical of English women. ‘You certainly did. It was quite a change for Guy. Congratulations on the swimming cup. You’re a superb swimmer.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He could see, to his surprise, that she genuinely meant what she said. But he was still bitter with the English.

  She looked up at him from under the floppy brim. ‘How do you like being at school in England?’

  He said politely, ‘I enjoy it very much, of course.’

  ‘It must be difficult for you, though … sometimes.’

  He realized that she understood, and he was grateful. He glanced towards his father who was deep in conversation with the captain. ‘I am the … what do you say?’

  ‘Odd man out. That will change, given time.’

  ‘I do not think so.’

  ‘I’m sure it will. You’re a new boy still, aren’t you? They always give them a hard time to start with. It’s part of a silly tradition.’

  ‘Yes, the English love their traditions,’ he said. ‘We have traditions in Germany, too. But they are different.’ He did not add that most English traditions that he had come across appeared extremely stupid and pointless.

  ‘I expect we seem quite childish sometimes. Hard to understand. In Germany, you apparently take things more seriously.’

  ‘Our country has suffered much,’ he said. ‘There has been much to be serious about. It is only now that we begin our recovery under our Führer.’

  ‘We’ve all suffered, Otto. But don’t let’s speak of that. It’s all in the past. Tell me about your family. Do you have brothers and sisters?’

  ‘No. I am the only child.’

  ‘Is your mother in Germany?’

  ‘My mother is dead.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘She died many years ago.’ He could hardly remember her at all – just a vague impression of some woman holding him. It had always been his father who had counted in his life.

  ‘Are you going back to Berlin for the summer holidays?’

  ‘I think we are to remain in England. My father has not said yet.’

  ‘Well, if you do, you must come and stay with us for a while. Guy would like to have you, I’m sure. Someone of his own age.’

  And I am very sure that he would not, he thought. ‘You are most kind.’

  ‘Do you sail?’

  ‘Yes. We have a boat.’

  She looked surprised. ‘Berlin is a long way from the sea.’

  ‘We keep it at Schleswig in the north. We sail in the Baltic. In summer, that is. It is very enjoyable there. Very beautiful.’

  She nodded. ‘I’m sure it must be. We live very close to the sea – the North Sea – right on an estuary. We have a boat, too. She’s just an old fishing boat – nothing grand at all – but the boys seem to have fun with her. My husband’s in the Royal Navy.’

  He glanced, again, at his father still talking with the Captain. ‘Yes, Guy told me.’

  ‘What does your father do?’

  ‘He is a diplomat. At the moment he is attached to the German Embassy in London – on liaison work.’

  ‘How interesting.’ She looked away from him. ‘Here are Guy and Matt.’ Otto watched while she embraced her sons. He wondered whether his own mother would have embraced him like that. To Guy Frau Ransome said, ‘I’ve just been chatting to your friend Otto. We must have him to stay with us in the holidays. He loves sailing. We can ask Lizzie and Anna, too. It will be great fun for you all.’

  Afterwards, his father drew him aside. ‘Frau Ransome would like you to stay with them in August. You will go, of course. I have to return to Berlin then, myself.’

  ‘I should much rather come to Berlin, Father.’

  ‘Later on in the holidays. It is more useful that you go to the Ransomes. You will make yourself agreeable to them. Be very charming to everyone, especially to the mother, and keep your eyes and ears open at all times. Remember anything that anybody remarks about Germany. And listen to everything that the captain says. Ask about his ship, about other ships in the Royal Navy. And take photographs of the place where they live – the estuary, the approaches from the sea, the coastline. Take as many as you can, but without attracting attention.’

  ‘What is all this for?’

  ‘It is for the Fatherland, Otto. For our beloved country.’

  Liebe Mina,

  Thank you for your letter and for sending me the photograph of Felix. I can see that he is very handsome.

  The school term is nearly finished here and everybody else is excited about the summer holidays. I am the only one who is not. Lizzie and I have been invited to stay with the Ransomes again. It will be very nice to see Matt, but not Guy.

  Mama and Papa are still waiting for their emigration papers. Everybody tells them that it will take time and that they must be patient. Once I wanted them to stay in Vienna, but now I want them to leave as soon as they can. If you had been with me on that railway journey, Mina, you would feel the same. I went to Colchester to see the little boy, Daniel, the other day. The aunt is very kind and married to a good man. They have two children of their own and I am sure that they will take good care of Daniel. He remembered me and I think he was happy to see me again. The aunt says his mother is trying to get emigration papers but she is still waiting, too, just like Mama and Papa. Her husband died in an accident so she is all alone, poor creature. They were very grateful to me for bringing Daniel to England and asked me to visit them again. I shall try to do so whenever I can.

  Yesterday, I cut off Lizzie’s plaits. She asked me to do it and so we borrowed the kitchen scissors from Mrs Hodges, the cook. There was a big row when Frau Ellis first saw Lizzie with short hair but it was all right in the end. I think it suits Lizzie. After all, she’s fourteen now. I haven’t worn the lipstick yet. Perhaps I’ll take it to Tideways and wear it there.

  Please write again very soon.

  Deine Anna.

  Chapter Ten

  Aunt Sheila met them at Burnham station in the open Alvis. ‘My goodness, Lizzie, I hardly recognized you. You look very grown-up.’ Lizzie fingered her short hair self-consciously. She was rather sorry now that she’d got rid of the plaits. Anna sat in the front seat, beside Aunt Sheila, and her long hair blew around her like a thick dark veil. They drove out of Burnham
and along the lane that led to Tideways. The hedgerows had the dry and dusty look of late summer and some of the cornfields had already been harvested. In one of them a reaping machine drawn by two big shire horses was cutting a steady swathe through the crop. The car dipped under the railway bridge and the lane came out at the river’s edge. The tide was high and several ships were on the water, sails bellied out with wind. ‘Guy and Matt have gone out,’ Aunt Sheila said. ‘But they’ll be back soon. We have a boy from their school staying with us for a while. He was at a bit of a loose end for the holidays, poor chap, so we asked him here and they’ve taken him sailing with them.’

  They went along by the river then turned in through the white gateway, past the clump of trees with the two tall Scots pines and up the gravel driveway to the front door. Nereus came out to greet them. He looked fatter and there were grey hairs round his muzzle that hadn’t been there the previous summer, and he moved more slowly. Lizzie and Anna were sharing the same bedroom as before and Lizzie went to look out of the open window at the view of the river. Among the boats she caught sight of one in the distance with a red sail. ‘I think I can see the Rose. Shall we go down to the jetty and wait for her to come in?’

  Anna had flopped onto her bed. ‘It’s too hot. You go, if you like.’ Lizzie went downstairs and Nereus, who was lying in the hall, rose stiffly to his feet to follow her through the drawing-room and out onto the terrace and across the lawn. She walked down the wooden steps at the far end and out onto the jetty. The river was shimmering in the evening sunlight and she had to shade her eyes to see the Rose again, much closer now, coming steadily towards her. Guy was at the helm, Matt beside him, and she could see a third figure as well. Matt waved and she waved back. She stood watching and waiting as Guy brought the boat in. The mainsail came tumbling down and she drifted gently alongside. Matt hopped out with the painter, grinning. ‘I wasn’t sure if it was you at first, Lizzie.’ He tied the rope securely. ‘What’ve you done with your plaits?’