The Hungry Tide (33 page)

Read The Hungry Tide Online

Authors: Valerie Wood

BOOK: The Hungry Tide
8.44Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

‘’Only thing is, ma-am, he doesn’t have any money to get wed. He was hoping to set up on his own, but if he weds me and a babby coming along, well, it won’t be easy.’ A tear glistened, ‘I don’t know what other chance I’ve got, ma-am. Me fayther won’t have me for sure, he’s that narrow. I should have to go on charity.’

Isobel tried hard not to appear too relieved. ‘Very well, I’ll see what can be done. How much money would this young man require?’

‘Ten pounds, ma-am.’ The reply was sharp and decisive.

Isobel’s eyes opened wide at the sum.

‘He’s got ’offer of a bit of land, ma-am,’ the girl went on quickly before she could raise any objection. ‘It’s not very good, as all ’best has been sold to ’big landowners,’ she smiled sweetly, ‘but it’s over near Beverley, so I should be out of ’district.’

Isobel made up her mind instantly. She was sure that there would be money in the house, though it was a pity Isaac wasn’t here. She really didn’t have a head for figures and it did seem an uncommonly large amount just for a miserable piece of land. But she would tell him on his return. ‘Very well, that does seem to be the best solution, although it is a very large sum of money. I hope he uses it well.’

Susan smiled, her face lit with pleasure. ‘Oh, he will, ma-am, he will. I’ll make sure of that.’

The next day with the money handed over and safely tucked under her skirt, Susan made her departure. She packed her box and left it in the room which she shared with Janey and slipped out of the kitchen door. Mrs Scryven, busy stuffing a fowl for the evening meal, looked up as the door banged and lifted her head towards the window.

‘Where’s that young hussy gone to?’ she demanded later as Maria came in. ‘She’s been out some time and I need her to take in ’tray to ’mistress.’

‘She’s out of favour with ’mistress, Ma,’ said Maria. ‘I’ll go in with it.’

Isobel was sitting gazing down into the garden, her sewing lying idly on her lap. The scent of newly cut grass mingled with the perfume of spring flowers and drifted in through the open window. Narcissi were nodding their heads in the soft breeze, their pale yellow heads reflecting the afternoon sun. Bluebells and violets unfolded beneath the flowering almond trees, and blue and white periwinkle trailed and twisted into tangled wreaths beneath the blossoming blackthorn hedge.

‘Are you glad you came here, Maria?’ was the surprising question as Maria put down the tray.

Maria hesitated. ‘Yes, I think so, ma-am. Though I miss Hull and all my old friends. But I’m very happy here, ma-am,’ she added quickly lest she sounded ungrateful. She glanced out of the window to the smooth green grass and neat edges and clipped laurel bushes. ‘And I love ’smell of flowers and grass.’ She laughed and turned towards her mistress. ‘It’s better than ’smell of blubber, ma-am.’

Isobel nodded in agreement, her thoughts elsewhere.

‘But it’s ’sea that I can’t get used to.’ Maria stared out of the window, forgetting where she was and who she was with. ‘Tha can always hear it. ’Sound never goes away. Constantly calling, telling me summat and I don’t know what.’

Isobel, drawn from her reverie, turned sharply. ‘I hope you are not fey, Maria. I cannot tolerate that sort of nonsense.’

‘Oh, no, ma-am, I’m not, though I believe my mother was.’ She refrained from telling Mrs Masterson of the strange sensations that sometimes came over her, which she was sure had some hidden meaning that she couldn’t comprehend. She had attempted to explain them to Mrs Scryven, who she hoped would understand, but who only nodded her head, smiled a gentle smile and said quietly, ‘We’ll face what comes.’

‘I wanted to ask you about Susan, ma-am. She went out this afternoon and hasn’t come back yet.’

‘I’ve dismissed her, so she won’t be coming back.’ Isobel’s tone was curt. ‘She has misbehaved. You can look for another girl for the house and I will have Janey to attend me. She is very obedient and will suit me, I think, once I’ve polished her rough, country ways.’

‘Yes, ma-am.’ Maria hid her astonishment. ‘Where shall I send Susan’s things?’

Isobel shrugged. ‘I’ve really no idea. Perhaps her father will collect them. I expect she will stay with him until she marries her young man.’

Maria smiled and raised her eyebrows. ‘Will said that Martin was going to ask for her, but I didn’t realize he already had. We didn’t think she’d have him.’

‘Martin?’ said Isobel as she sipped her tea.

‘Martin Reedbarrow, ma-am, Janey’s father. He’s not a young man though. About ’same as my Will, I’d say.’

Isobel frowned. ‘Where does he live, this man.’

‘In ’village, ma-am. He’s got a nice piece of land.’ She shook her head sorrowfully. ‘But he badly needs a wife for all his poor motherless bairns.’

‘No,’ said Isobel slowly. ‘That isn’t him. Someone else, I understand. Thank you, Maria, that will be all.’

Will was riding back from the mill at Aldbrough when he saw Susan on the carrier’s cart travelling in the opposite direction. She waved cheerfully and blew him a kiss and then put her finger to her lips and winked impudently. He gazed after the cart in surprise, and then grinned. She was up to something, no doubt about it, for she shouldn’t have been out in the middle of the day. She’d be in trouble if she was found out, which she certainly would be, though he wouldn’t give her away.

Martin ranted and raved when he found out Susan had gone. ‘I’ve been made a fool of, Will, by a slip of a lass. Why, if I knew where she was, I’d give her a right tanning and bring her back, just like I would our Janey.’ His confusion was increased by the ale he had drunk as he wallowed in his cups at the village inn.

‘No, tha wouldn’t,’ said Will as he watched his friend unsteadily pour himself another tankard. ‘Tha’s not first to fall for a young lass, and she isn’t thine to bring back. She’d made thee no promises.’

‘But what I can’t understand.’ Martin leaned drunkenly across the table to peer at Will. ‘Where’s she gone? I’ve searched and asked for three days and nobody’s seen sight nor sound of her since she left Garston Hall. Not even her fayther. Her poor old fayther who says he’s worried out of his mind. Poor old gaffer.’ His eyes filled with tears.

‘I shouldn’t worry about her, Martin. I’m sure she’ll come to no harm,’ said Will, with the vision of the carrier’s cart heading for town and the smiling figure of Susan on it still fresh in his mind. ‘She’s got a good head on her shoulders.’

‘Aye, she has, and a lot more than that, I can tell thee.’ He put his head down on the ale-puddled table. ‘But I was right smitten, Will,’ he moaned, ‘I was right smitten.’

‘I suspect the young minx might have fooled us, my dear,’ mused Isaac as Isobel told him what she had learned from Maria.

‘But why should she want to do that? She was so lucky to be here.’ Isobel was nonplussed.

‘It isn’t everyone’s idea of bliss, being cut off in the countryside, you know. Especially a young, attractive female.’ He glanced sideways at his wife. ‘She’s probably heading for Hull and all its amusements. She might not even be, er, in trouble at all.’

Isobel was shocked. ‘Surely she would not make up such a dreadful story?’

‘It is quite possible, I’d say.’ He put his thumbs in his waistcoat pocket and smiled cynically. ‘It’s just as well we only decided to give her an extra shilling or so, she might have asked for more.’

Isobel turned pale. She would have to tell him, he would be sure to find out. ‘She did,’ she said. ‘I gave her ten pounds.’

‘You gave her what?’ Isaac’s mouth dropped open.

She didn’t feel the necessity to repeat the amount. There was nothing wrong with his hearing.

‘Then she might well have fooled us,’ he said gravely, ‘but there’s not a thing we can do about it. We have no proof that what she said about John was, or was not true. Not until he comes home, and then it will be too late to take any action.’ He laughed suddenly, throwing his head back. ‘Imagine that,’ he spluttered. ‘Imagine being taken in by a slip of a country girl.’

* * *

Eleven months passed before the
Polar Star
returned to her home port, her decks and timbers torn and battered where she had been frozen into the ice. She had been heaved clean out of the water by the crushing, cracking pressure of an advancing floe, and held in a vice-like grip by the relentless ice which piled above her, there to remain until the thaw set in.

There had been little food left and the crew were put on short rations, with the result that scurvy manifested itself. Four men died of the disease and two more from cold and exhaustion. Some of the sick men were carried across the field of ice on the backs of their healthier shipmates and transferred to ships which were still afloat, but many other ships were trapped themselves in that ferocious landscape and were in danger of being torn apart.

‘He’s lost, isn’t he, Isaac?’ Isobel had said sadly. ‘Our poor dear John is gone from us?’

Isaac had put his arm around his wife’s shoulders comfortingly and shook his head. ‘We won’t give up hope, not yet awhile.’

Maria and Will too were uneasy that long winter. Maria wished that she could go down to the jetty at the mouth of the River Hull and keep watch down the broad expanse of the Humber, as she knew that wives and mothers and sweethearts would be doing as they waited anxiously for the ship’s return and that of the other missing vessels. Will stared out across the sea from the safety of land, his senses in turmoil as he prayed for the protection of the men and boys who defied the seething water, and remembered the cold which froze their beards, their food and fingers, and the fear of the closing, advancing ice.

It was decided not to mention the matter of Susan, for John was thin and ill when he finally came home, and Isobel was so relieved to see him safely back that she carefully obliterated the incident from her mind. Besides, the girl had not been seen in the district since the day she left.

He spent a month at Garston Hall, sitting in the garden when it was fine with a blanket wrapped around him, and being nourished by Mrs Scryven’s cooking. He was an older, soberer man, his youthful vigour had temporarily deserted him, and the dreadful voyage had had a profound effect on his view of the world.

Whereas his first voyage on the
Polar Star
had been challenging and dangerous, and the sight of the towering icebergs had filled him with awe and excitement, with the youthful certainty of his immortality he hadn’t felt at any time that his life was in danger. On this passage there had been many times as he had chipped away at chunks of glacier ice to supplement their fresh water supply, or made hazardous journeys across the ice on foot to shoot birds and seals to add to their dwindling amount of salt meat and biscuit, when he had thought that he would never see his home or family and friends again.

He watched with quiet amusement as his cousin Lucy and Sarah tottered unsteadily by Lizzie’s side. One silky fair head and one tangled mop of red curls played happily together in the room at the top of the house which had been designated a nursery.

As he recovered, fed on quantities of Mrs Scryven’s Yorkshire Pie, the topping of thick crust hiding deep layers of tender pigeon flavoured with sweet bay and lovage, a cure, she assured him, for a weary traveller, he began to have qualms of conscience. He thought of his companions from the ship who had no such comfort as this, and of the widows who had been left to fend for themselves, and one fine morning he rose and packed his bag and returned to Hull. His aim was to improve conditions for the seamen who sailed in Masterson ships, that their life on board, though perilous, might have some little comfort, and in this he had his uncle’s full support.

Will saw little of his former shipmate, and John’s visits to Monkston were less frequent as he became more and more involved in the whaling industry. Isaac made him a partner, and their company prospered with the addition of his youthful enthusiasm and as the need for blubber and whalebone continued to rise. More industries sprang up to produce oil for lighting and heating, lubricants for machinery, household goods like brushes and blinds, as well as the accessories of fashion, stays and corsets and parasols.

Increasingly, decisions were left to Will with regard to the running of the farm. Though Dick Reedbarrow decided when to plough and when to sow, Will found that he could strike a good bargain in the buying of stock and grain, and his reputation increased with the local farmers. He had regular fortnightly discussions with Isaac Masterson when he would report on problems and policies, and yet he never met his master’s wife face to face until Lucy and Sarah were four years old.

He walked one day alongside the coppiced woodland, where the hazel was sending up a dense mass of thin straight shoots which soon they would split and use for sheep fencing and securing thatch to the cottage roofs, or making supports for hay ricks. He could smell the sweet aroma of hay as he turned towards the meadow. The weather had been fine and dry and the men had turned the hay, exposing it to the sunlight and ensuring a good crop of dry winter feed for the livestock.

He smiled as he heard the sound of childish laughter and looked over the hedge into the garden where Lucy and Sarah were playing. Lizzie was nearby and she waved to him cheerfully.

‘Chase me, Sarah,’ Lucy called. ‘Chase me, and then I’ll chase thee.’

He stopped to watch them as they ran around the garden, laughing as Lucy took a tumble head over heels into the shrubbery. She started to laugh and then her laughter turned to tears and she started to scream shrilly in pain.

‘It bit me, it bit me,’ she screamed as an angry cloud of wasps flew up from the ground where she had fallen and buzzed menacingly around her head.

Will ran round the side of the hedge and into the garden and scooped up the hysterical child, then came to a sharp stop in front of Mrs Masterson.

Isobel had been strolling idly on the terrace, her cream parasol held above her head to keep away the sun and the insects which were such an annoyance to her. She heard the children calling and descended the stone steps into the garden, calling to Lizzie in admonishment at the clamour they were making as they chased around the lawn, when Lucy fell and she found herself face to face with Will Foster.

Other books

Aftershocks by Damschroder, Natalie J.
Scrapbook of the Dead by Mollie Cox Bryan
Honour Among Men by Barbara Fradkin
Masquerade by Fornasier Kylie
The Idea of Perfection by Kate Grenville
The Romany Heiress by Nikki Poppen
Winter Brothers by Ivan Doig