The Hungry Tide

by Valerie Wood

  ‘I’m sorry about thy boat,’ the fisherman added. ‘But we couldn’t risk towing it, we had difficulty getting ’lads out of it and into ours without tekkin’ a dip. She’ll be washed up further down ’coast I expect, but she’ll not be much more than firewood.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter about ’boat,’ Martin said gruffly. ‘As long as ’lads are safe.’

  Will shook the fishermen by the hand. ‘God bless thee and watch o’er thee.’

  They nodded quietly, recognizing a fellow mariner. ‘And thee, my friend.’

  Exhausted, cold and wet, they travelled back, the two boys huddled silently in the back of the cart, weak and tired and frightened. Presently, as they came towards the familiar lanes of Monkston, Paul leant on his elbows and pushed back the tarpaulin that covered them. ‘Fayther?’ he said, in a small voice. ‘Fayther? Will I get a leathering when I get home?’

  Martin glanced sideways at Will and a flicker of a smile touched both their lips. ‘Nay, lad, tha’s suffered enough already,’ he said leniently.

  Something like a sigh came from behind them.

  ‘I’ll wait a day or two ’til tha’s recovered, it’ll give thee summat to look forward to,’ he added.

  ‘It’s not fair,’ Jimmy protested vehemently. He didn’t object to the leathering, although his behind stung where he had received the strap. But to be told he had to pay towards the boat, he felt, was too much.

  ‘Tha’s on ’books as a casual labourer,’ Will rebuked him harshly, ‘and when tha wages are due I shall hand them over to Martin.’

  ‘But he said he didn’t care about ’boat. I heard him.’

  ‘But I care about it.’ Will’s voice rose. ‘And tha’ll pay towards it, so instead of ’money being saved for thee, like Lizzie’s is, it’ll go towards another boat.’

  He had another surprise due for Jimmy, but first he must see Mr Masterson, who nodded gravely when he was told the story and directed Will and Jimmy to seek an interview with John.

  ‘So you want to be a whaling man?’ said John sternly. He sat behind the desk in the timber-clad office in the High Street looking every inch a sober business man in his dark grey tail coat, the white frill of his shirt sleeve showing at the cuff. He was tall and athletic looking and sported a short curly beard. His blue eyes glinted as he looked at Jimmy, standing alongside Will, his hair neatly brushed and his cap in his hand.

  ‘Yes, please, sir,’ Jimmy replied solemnly, having been well rehearsed by Will and Maria.

  ‘Well, I can offer you an apprenticeship,’ said John, ‘but of course there are certain conditions to be met.’

  Jimmy’s eyes sparkled and he took in a deep expectant breath.

  ‘First of all, you can’t start until you are twelve, which I understand is in nine months time?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ he replied, less exuberantly; he had thought that he would be able to start right away.

  ‘And next, we only take boys of good character, who are responsible and reliable. So after the next nine months I will expect to receive an honest statement of your behaviour from your guardian here, and if it is satisfactory then you can join the Masterson fleet.’

  Jimmy stared back at John, turning his cap round and round in his hands until he finally dropped it on the floor and, blushing, bent to retrieve it.

  John continued. ‘The work is hard and the hours are long, it isn’t a job for a weakling or a shirker.’

  Jimmy stood up straight, his chin held high.

  ‘However, you have been recommended by Mr Foster, and his word is good enough for me, so make sure that you don’t let him down.’

  ‘I won’t, sir.’ The voice was quiet and submissive, and Will glanced curiously at this new Jimmy.

  John rose to shake hands with Will and then with Jimmy. ‘If you will wait outside, Swinburn, I wish to speak privately to Mr Foster.’

  Jimmy, not a little surprised at the esteem shown to Will by this fine looking gentleman, left the room, touching his forelock as he went.

  ‘So, Will,’ laughed John, stretching back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head. ‘Was that all right? Did I play my part well?’

  ‘Aye, tha did well,’ he replied, pulling up a chair as John indicated. ‘It’s ’only threat that’s going to work with him. ’Only thing that will keep him out of trouble for ’next nine months.’

  He accepted a tot of rum which John offered and raised his glass. ‘God bless all seamen.’

  ‘Amen to that,’ replied John, raising his own glass. ‘And now tell me the latest news of the countryside, and how is your lovely Maria and the adorable Sarah?’

  17

  Maria made regular visits to the village, first of all to accompany Mrs Masterson, who had finally decided that she couldn’t put off her husband’s request to visit the tenants any longer, and then alone because she became anxious about some of the villagers, particularly the families with young children and the very old, like Nathan Crabtree.

  Isobel, too, was anxious. She was quite sure that disease was lurking in every corner of what she regarded as their dark and verminous hovels, and that she would be infected. She mentioned her anxiety to Maria who in turn confided in Ma Scryven, who sniffed and humphed and then made up a sweet-smelling ball of eucalyptus, pennyroyal, tansy and mint for her to carry to deter flies and smells. She wore her thick woollen cloak to ensure that no infection would get through to her, and her face could barely be seen beneath her hood.

  The visits were not successful. Isobel in her anxiety seemed haughty, and the villagers were distrustful of her. They took the gifts she offered, which were handed to them by Maria, and nodded their thanks and stared at her through the window of her carriage, for she didn’t descend from it.

  ‘Tell them I have a bad headache, Maria, and cannot get out. Indeed I can feel one coming on quite severely.’

  Maria handed over flour and some offal to a pale, scrawny young woman who stood at her cottage door, a baby at her shrunken breast and three small children sitting listlessly in the dust.

  ‘I’m grateful to thee, Mrs Foster.’ Her voice was hoarse and low and Maria had to bend to hear what she was saying.

  ‘They’re Mrs Masterson’s vittals, she’s brought them,’ Maria explained. ‘She’s a little unwell today or she would get down to speak to thee.’

  ‘Best not to, I reckon,’ the woman replied. ‘I’m not well missen and ’bairn is ailing. Me milk doesn’t seem to satisfy him.’

  Maria looked anxiously back at Mrs Masterson, who was impatiently tapping her fingers on the carriage door, and then took a quick look at the silent child, its pale mouth slack against his mother’s nipple. ‘Does tha get enough to eat?’ She was perturbed by the child’s stillness.

  The woman shook her head. ‘Me man’s gone off to Hull to find work, but I’ve not seen owt of him for nearly a month. We’re living off what other folk can spare us.’

  ‘Come along, Mrs Foster,’ called Mrs Masterson sharply. ‘We must be getting back.’

  ‘I’ll come again as soon as I can,’ Maria whispered as she turned to enter the carriage. ‘I’ll bring thee summat for ’babby.’

  ‘I’m sorry, ma-am,’ she said apologetically as she sat uneasily on the edge of the seat. ‘Might I have permission to visit that young woman again? She hasn’t any food and her baby is sick.’

  ‘You have your time off if you wish to make further visits,’ said Isobel irritably. ‘Just be careful that you don’t catch some nasty fever and bring it back. I wouldn’t want Lucy to become ill.’

  ‘No, ma-am,’ said Maria, chastened but wondering if it was possible to catch the disease of starvation, which she was sure was what the woman and her children were suffering from.

  ‘Could we make one more call, ma-am?’ she said hurriedly as she saw her mistress about to tap on the carriage window to tell Walters to turn for home.

  Mrs Masterson sighed, then grudgingly agreed. ‘Providing that it won’t take all afternoon, Maria. I a
m ready for a rest now. These visits quite exhaust me.’

  ‘I promise it won’t, ma-am, and there will be no need for you to get down, unless of course you want to.’

  ‘Which I don’t. Whom do you intend to visit?’

  ‘Old Mr Crabtree, ma-am, he lives alone down near ’cliff edge. Will told me about him, said he ought to move out of his house and further into ’village, but he won’t be persuaded.’

  ‘He sounds like an obstinate old man to me,’ said Isobel disinterestedly. ‘But if you feel we should go then let us hurry up about it.’

  Maria called up to Walters to go as far down the lane as he safely could and whilst the carriage waited she picked her way quickly down the uneven and broken surface towards the dilapidated cottage.

  Nathan Crabtree saw her coming and stood waiting at the door, an old blanket wrapped around his shoulders. ‘’Didn’t expect fine company today,’ he said. ‘I’d have trimmed me beard had I known.’

  Maria smiled. ‘Mrs Masterson has sent thee a few vittals.’

  He peered into the bag which she handed to him. ‘Mrs Masterson didn’t send these,’ he said. ‘I know ’smell of oatcakes. These is Ma Scryven’s bakin’.’ He cackled wickedly. ‘She doesn’t forget that these is me favourites.’

  She laughed with him. ‘No, she doesn’t forget. She said to tell thee that she’ll come when she can. Her rheumatism is bad just now and she can’t walk so well.’

  ‘Aye, well, we’re all getting old and it’s time some of us was moving on.’ He wiped a watery eye. ‘But ’good Lord teks his time. He doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to see me, anyroad.’

  ‘Perhaps He thinks tha’s still some use here, Mr Crabtree.’ Maria felt sad for the lonely old man.

  ‘No use to man nor beast,’ he said bluntly. ‘I’ve done me share o’ labour, it’s just a matter o’ waiting.’

  ‘Would tha come and live with us, Mr Crabtree?’ Maria said impulsively. ‘Over at Field House, I mean. We’ve plenty of room and it would be company for thee, and tha’d get plenty to eat.’

  The old man’s eyes creased with humour and he smiled toothlessly. ‘I haven’t had an offer like that from a young wench in a long, long time.’

  Maria smiled, took his wrinkled, blue veined hand in both of hers and patted it gently. ‘I have to go now, mistress is waiting, but think on what I say. Tha shouldn’t be here all alone, it’s not safe any more.’

  He watched her as she hurried back to the waiting carriage, and as it moved off he looked down at the hand she had held; he stroked it gently with his forefinger and then held it close to his face. He closed his eyes and breathed in the long-forgotten scent of womanhood.

  ‘Maria, where’s Will?’ Lizzie ran swiftly up the stairs to the linen room where Maria was putting away clean sheets and inserting sprigs of lavender and rosemary in the folds to sweeten them.

  ‘Somewhere out in ’fields I expect. Why, who wants him?’

  ‘’Mistress has arranged to travel to Hull, only Walters didn’t come as he should. I’ve just been round to ’stable to fetch him and he’s laid out on his bed, not fit to move.’

  She came further into the small room and dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘I think he’s had a drop too much, ’place stinks of liquor.’

  Lizzie wasn’t given to exaggeration and she had seen enough inebriated men in her young life to know that the loud snores which Walters was emitting were drunken ones.

  ‘I’ll go and tell ’mistress that Walters is poorly. Run and find Will and tell him he’s needed back at ’house. Quick as tha can, Lizzie.’

  With a nervous grin, Lizzie ran off as she was told and Maria went in search of Mrs Masterson. She found her, dressed in her travelling clothes, restlessly walking the floor of the drawing room.

  ‘What is happening, Maria? I sent Lizzie to see where Walters is and now she has disappeared. I’m not at all pleased, I particularly wanted to be off early today.’

  ‘I’m very sorry, Mrs Masterson, ma-am. But Walters is sick and not fit to travel. I’ve taken ’liberty of sending for Will if you need to go specially today. I didn’t want to risk Walters being taken poorly while you were on the road.’

  ‘No, of course,’ said Mrs Masterson, exasperated, and sat down whilst she pondered on whether or not to cancel her visit to the milliner’s to buy a new hat or risk being driven into town by Foster.

  ‘Is your husband capable of driving the carriage, Maria?’

  ‘I don’t know, ma-am, that’s why I’ve sent for him. He’s driven a cart into Hull often enough these last six years, and knows ’road well.’ She stopped as Lizzie came into the room.

  ‘Beggin’ your pardon, ma-am,’ Lizzie bobbed, ‘but Will Foster is here if you want to see him.’ She was hot and flushed after chasing all over the estate looking for him, finally finding him as he answered her shout, down on the shore with some of the village men as they inspected the state of the cliff.

  On his way back to the house Will had examined the drunken Walters as he lay insensible on the straw in the loft above the stable, and knew without a shadow of doubt that he wouldn’t be conscious for several hours, if at all that day. He’d swiftly swilled his hands and face under the pump in the yard to make himself presentable and run his wet fingers through his hair, and now waited in the hall for his instructions from Mrs Masterson.

  She surveyed him critically from piercing blue eyes, tapping the floor with the tip of her parasol. ‘I can cancel my visit to town if there is any doubt that you can handle the horses, Foster, though I particularly wished to go today.’

  He inclined his head. ‘No need to worry, ma-am, I’ve handled ’pair before, Walters showed me how.’ He didn’t add that he had driven the carriage on two other occasions when Walters had been too drunk to stay on the seat. ‘I’ll just have to harness up, and change my clothes,’ he indicated his muddy coat. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  Walters was several inches shorter than Will, though considerably wider around his middle, and although the dark red coachman’s coat with its shiny black butons, which he found hanging on a peg, was too short in the sleeve, the fit was fairly comfortable. Will caught sight of himself in a window and rakishly adjusted the cocked hat on his thick hair, winking at Lizzie as she watched him through the window.

  ‘I wish I could’ve gone, too, instead of Janey.’ Lizzie gazed forlornly after the disappearing carriage. ‘I’d like to have a look at ’shops some time, and ’ships in ’river.’

  Maria put her arm around her in consolation. She knew that the girl was thinking of Jimmy, who with a supreme effort had conformed to the rules laid down to him, and had left them when he’d reached the age of twelve to join the whaling fleet. Maria was not a little relieved to see him go. He was a vexatious, restless child who made her feel uneasy, and there were times when she could see shades of his father in him. Although Lizzie had cried when he went, she too seemed less anxious and calmer since he had left.

  They never had any message from him, and although they knew when his ship sailed, and had reports from John Rayner that he was shaping up well, he never once came to see them when he was in port, but stayed in lodging houses in the town. It was as if they had never been a part of his life and Maria knew that Lizzie once more had been hurt.

  Will had been in the middle of a heated debate down on the shore when he’d heard Lizzie calling for him. The men had gathered there during working time, as the issue under discussion was considered to be of paramount importance requiring an immediate decision.

  ‘We’re talking about our homes and livelihood. God knows we don’t have much, but we’re going to finish up with nowt,’ said one irate villager.

  ‘Aye, look at Owthorne, there’s not much left, ’church is teetering on ’edge and can’t be used for worship. It’s a disgrace, summat should be done.’

  Will had agreed with them; he’d seen the extent of the damage to Owthorne church. The churchyard was gone and the sea washed around the base of
the cliff only yards below its cracked and broken walls. But without wanting to appear discouraging, he didn’t see what could be done about the cliffs at Monkston.

  ‘We can build a wall down on the beach along ’worst parts,’ Ralph Graves butted in. ‘There’s enough of us if we put our backs into it.’

  ‘What of?’ Dick Reedbarrow had been sceptical. ‘We can’t build it of clay, and that’s ’only thing we’ve plenty of round here!’

  Graves was scathing. ‘Don’t give us any encouragement, wilt tha?’

  ‘Tha’s got to be practical, lad. No use putting effort into summat without thinking about it first.’ Dick stood his ground stoically. ‘I’ll do all I can, but it’s got to be talked about. Discussed, like.’

  Martin had a suggestion. He scraped his boot in the soft sand as he searched for the right words.

  ‘It’d take a long time maybe, but if all them that has a cart or waggon could go down ’coast to collect ’rubble and waste from houses that’s already gone ower cliffs, then we could fetch it back here to build a wall.’

  Some of the men nodded hopefully. It was the best suggestion they’d heard so far.

  Will had shaken his head despondently. ‘Tha doesn’t stand a chance of building a wall strong enough. Other villages have built them and it didn’t work. Tha can’t keep ’sea back.’ The men stared at him sullenly. ‘It’s just impossible. Tha doesn’t seem to realize ’power of ’ocean.’ He pointed far out to sea where the grey waves flicked lazy white crests. ‘That’s where ’power is, not just here by ’cliffs, but out there, pounding away on ’ocean bed. Power that’s never seen, nor imagined, not unless tha’s seen a ship battered and torn by ’waves as I have.’

  ‘Tha doesn’t have to come in on this,’ said Graves sarcastically. ‘We’d best have a show of hands for them that’s willing.’

  ‘I’m willing to help,’ Will interrupted protestingly. ‘I just don’t think it’s going to work.’

  He pondered on the problem now as he waited in the Market Place whilst Mrs Masterson made her purchases. Old Nathan Crabtree was the biggest worry, he mused, and though he’d agreed to help to strengthen the cliff just below his cottage, he thought it a better idea that they try again to persuade him to leave his home and come to live with them as Maria had suggested.