The Hungry Tide (57 page)

As she drove up the hill towards the high cliffs above the village of Kilnsea, she took a long look as she passed at the spired church standing only yards from the sea shore. This was a big village, bigger than Monkston, maybe thirty or so houses and farms, but the road ran perilously close to the edge and the cliffs were cracked and fissured.

She stopped to water the mare from a fast-running stream and bent to cup her hands and take a drink herself The morning was running on fast and she worried that she might not get back in time to deliver the horse and cart to Tom as she’d promised. She rinsed her face with the clear water and looked south again down towards the headland, narrowing her eyes as she saw rounding the narrow strip of land a fleet of whaling ships, their sails spread wide.

She left the horse to graze and stood silently watching, her hand shielding her eyes against the brightness of the morning sky. There were five ships, two of which she knew belonged to the Masterson fleet, but from this distance she could not make out their names and had no means of knowing which they were.

She stood locked in calm meditation until her eyes fixed on the leading vessel, a swift, three-masted barque. She concentrated fully on this ship, clearing her mind of all thoughts and sounds as she searched, and knew for sure that this was the ship which held John.

‘I know I said I wouldn’t do this any more,’ she whispered. ‘I said I would not link my mind to yours, that I would give you some peace. But I can’t help myself. I’m bound to you as if we were one flesh and blood, and if I’m not to see you again, never again to feel your arms about me, the warmth of your lips on mine, then I must say goodbye.’

She touched her fingers to her lips and spread her arms wide towards the ocean. The wind buffeted and caught her, blowing her skirts and hair wildly, gathering up the dust and sand from beneath her feet and tossing it seawards. Her thoughts were carried too, blown towards the ship as it moved gracefully out of her sight towards the horizon. She felt a sudden warmth envelop her as love reached out, and she smiled sadly and touched her lips again. ‘Goodbye,’ she breathed. ‘God speed.’

She turned away to gather in the horse, which had wandered off in search of more succulent grass, and as she climbed back into the cart and headed for home she looked once more to the horizon. The fleet could barely be seen, had become merely smudges of white on the blue sea. As she stared, in her mind the white became bigger and colder, white sheets of ice which stretched for ever beneath an alien sky. She shivered as the coldness touched her spine, tingling her fingertips and toes, and she hugged her arms around herself to bring back some comfort from the cold, sharp, icy fear which clutched her and held her fast.

‘We’ll wed as soon as ’spring sowing is finished, Sarah.’ Joe lowered his big frame into a chair by Sarah’s fireside.

‘But—but that will be soon, Masterson’s have nearly finished,’ she stammered. ‘I shan’t – I shan’t be ready.’

‘Aye, well, they’ve got plenty of help. We shall be a week or two yet, even if ’weather holds. That’ll give thee enough time to do whatever it is tha has to do.’

He smiled at her indulgently and pulled her down towards him to sit on his knee. He nuzzled his beard into her neck and she grimaced as the rough bristles rubbed her skin.

‘’Course, we don’t have to wait for ceremony, Sarah,’ he said softly. ‘Tha only has to say ’word and I’ll stay. I want to, tha knows that, I’ve telled thee plenty of times.’

‘I know, Joe,’ she said awkwardly, sliding off his knee on the pretext of putting a pan on the fire. ‘But I’d rather wait.’

He nodded glumly. That she was reluctant he could understand, she wasn’t like other women, who were happy to tumble with their men once the banns were read. Being brought up to act and think like a lady had spoilt her, he decided, but she would have to change her ways if she was to be a farmer’s wife. He would expect his marital rights, and often, for he was a normal healthy young fellow, but he wouldn’t want to compel or force her. There would be no happiness in that for either of them.

He sighed, it wasn’t going to be easy. His sister, he knew, would not stand for any nonsense, and if they were all to live together Nellie would still expect to be mistress of the house. Not that Sarah didn’t work hard, he had seen last year how she did. Never expecting any help, she’d worked her garden and collected the produce alone. He’d seen the dirt beneath her fingernails, though her hands hadn’t become rough and horny like his sister’s, but were still soft and smooth. Nevertheless, she had also become independent, and he could see that sparks might fly as female temperaments clashed.

When spring sowing was finished she put him off again, making the excuse that she was busy in her garden and she wanted this to be a good year so that she might have some money to bring him. He couldn’t argue with this as money was short. They had lost another piece of crop-growing land to the sea and two of their pigs had died of disease.

‘If this keeps on we shall have to think about renting a piece of land ower at Tillington and leaving this lot for ’sea to do what it wants wi’ it.’ He hunched his hands into his pocket. ‘Thy Tom did well to get that land. Folks’ll always need millers. He’ll be getting his own hoss and carriage afore long.’

Sarah touched his arm. ‘He works hard, does Tom. Day and night sometimes. Don’t begrudge him, Joe.’

‘I don’t begrudge him,’ he answered feelingly. ‘Though there’s some as do. It’s just I feel that bitter when I see all that me da and grandfayther have worked for tummel ower cliff edge, and there’s nowt I can do about it.’

Summer came, and she said she was too busy with her trips to market to think about a wedding. Miss Ellie was taking a regular supply of roses, and she was selling bottles of last year’s fruit and jams and jellies in the market as well as her herbs and potions. She became known, and customers would come looking for her to buy her produce.

She noticed the small boy who had watched her last year. He was sitting in the same spot, idly whittling a piece of wood and occasionally glancing in her direction.

Sarah waved to him one morning and beckoned him over. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

‘I’m just carving this wood, miss.’ He opened his hand to show her.

‘No, I meant what were you doing here, why are you still watching me?’ She spoke gently, a smile in her voice. ‘Don’t you know that Mr Rayner is away at sea?’

‘Oh, I know that, miss,’ he said airily. ‘But I have me orders.’ He stuck his chin up in the air and his eyes gleamed proudly. ‘I’m on Mastersons’ payroll, same as me da and grandfayther.’ He leaned towards her confidentially. ‘Three generations now, that’s what me grandfayther said.’ He cocked his head towards the river. ‘They’ve sailed in ’same ship as ’gaffer – Mr Rayner, I mean, miss. But Mr Rayner said as ’ow I was to still keep an eye on thee while he’s away and make sure that nobody bothers thee.’

She had trouble speaking, so choked was she with emotion. ‘And will you be a whaling man? I don’t know your name, what is it?’

‘Bob, miss, Bob Hardwick, named after me grandfayther. He knows thy da, or so he says.’ He fingered the wood delicately. ‘But as for ’other question, miss, about being a whaling man, Mr Rayner says he’ll apprentice me to a carpenter, that’s what I really want to do. He says whaling is no life for a young lad. Too cold and too bloody.’

The boy laughed. ‘But I might still go as a ship’s carpenter. ’Sea’s in me blood, tha knows; three generations, like me grandfayther says.’

As summer wore on, Joe was too busy to take time off for a wedding; the weather was hot and dry and the harvest had to be brought home, but he was becoming increasingly irritable and deep frowns lined his normally placid face.

‘As soon as harvest is ower, Sarah. I’ll not wait much longer. I shall start to think tha doesn’t want to be wed.’

She couldn’t bring herself to tell him that she didn’t. She couldn’t bear to inflict sorrow on this gentle giant of a man, couldn’t watch the misery that it would bring if she told him that she had changed her mind and wouldn’t marry him. How would he face his friends that he had known all of his life, if she should turn him down now?

He put his arms around her. ‘Sometimes I think tha still thinks on yon fine fellow.’ He could never bring himself to mention John Rayner by name.

She put her head on his chest and felt the roughness of his jacket against her cheek. ‘I think of a lot of things, Joe, but I said I would marry you, and I will, but please, don’t rush me, give me time.’

She needed time to rid herself of the ache which she felt each time she thought of John, the persistent torment which never went away, but was with her day and night, haunting her dreams and every waking moment. She tossed restlessly in her bed each night or walked the damp sands until morning came, leaving her wide-eyed and weary yet unable to rid herself of his image.

As summer drew to a close and the smells of autumn filled the air, she became more and more uneasy. The fleet should have been straggling home by the end of September or before if they had had a successful voyage, but none of the ships had yet been sighted. All had headed further north in their attempt to catch more whales and she had heard rumblings in the Market Place that bad weather had been expected. Once John is safely home, then I’ll marry Joe, she promised herself, but wondered how long she could keep delaying him, what further excuses she could make.

Christmas came and went and still no news, and the townspeople of Hull went into mourning. Three overdue ships had arrived, one of them from the Masterson fleet, but they had no further news of the
Northern Star
or the
Stellar
which had followed it up the Lancaster Sound. Isaac Masterson spent more time in Hull at his office, using John’s rooms for eating and sleeping, not wanting to tear himself away from the river, and to be on hand if any news came through from other returning ships. The local newspaper published a gloomy account of the possible hazards that they might have encountered and gave a list of names of the men and apprentices who were on board.

Will brought the newspaper home and asked Sarah to read the report to him. She did so with growing despair, and a chill filled her heart as something within her died. Her parents looked at her as she covered her face with her hands.

‘Sarah? What is it, love?’ Her mother’s anxious voice roused her and she blew her nose and tried to stem her tears.

‘I keep thinking of those poor men,’ she choked, her face white. ‘And their wives. That young boy; his father and grandfather, you know them, Fayther, were both on the ship, and Mr John – the Mastersons will never get over their grief.’

‘Aye, that’s true, it’s hit us all hard. Such a fine, handsome man, a real gentleman was Mr John, there’ll never be another like him.’ Maria wiped away a tear and patted her daughter on the shoulder as she sat, her head bowed.

‘I haven’t given up hope yet,’ said Will. ‘Ships have taken as long as this afore and still turned up, though it’s odd that nobody has seen them.’ He sat silently meditating, then shook his head, a small smile on his lips. ‘I used to think, when he was just a lad, that he was like a cat with nine lives!’

‘Whatever does tha mean, Will? Who does tha mean?’

‘Young John. Well, like ’time when he fell into ’water, when I had my accident. Tha can freeze to death in minutes in those waters, but he just came up smiling.’

Sarah raised her head, she had never heard her father speak of it, it was her mother who had told her what had happened in the year she was born.

‘And then another time he almost got into a scrape because of me.’ Will recalled silently the escapade near Beverley and John’s verbal sparring with the soldiers. ‘But, by, he was right sharp.’ His expression suddenly closed up as he realized he had an interested audience in his wife and daughter.

‘So he really was a friend, Fayther?’

‘Aye, or he could have been if he hadn’t been who he was, or if I hadn’t been who I was.’

‘Did it matter so much?’ Sarah asked, her voice catching. ‘Did it really matter?’

‘Aye, lass, it did at ’time. Still does, tha can’t alter how folks feel.’ He looked at her keenly. ‘Don’t ever forget thy background. No need to be ashamed of it, tha’s from good stock, but we’re different from ’gentry, better in some ways than they are, but they’ll always be masters and we’ll always be peazuns.’

Sarah rose to leave, to go back to her own cottage and face another sleepless night. Her father was wrong. She realized that, now that it was too late, but there was no sense in saying so, nothing she said would make him alter his opinion.

‘Tha looks pale, Sarah. Is tha poorly?’ Maria watched her sharply.

‘No, I’m all right, Ma. I’m not sleeping well, that’s all. I can hear the sea battering against the cliffs, it seems to be worse at night.’ She hesitated. ‘Fayther. Do whales scream?’

Will looked shocked. ‘What a question, Sal! Why does tha want to know?’

‘Do they, Fayther? Please answer me.’ She had to ask. She needed to know whether the cries which penetrated her dreams and woke her, cold and sweating, came from human or beast.

He took a deep breath. He hadn’t thought about it for a long time. ‘Aye, they do,’ he said slowly. He looked into the depths of the fire and remembered the cold. He shivered. ‘They do. When the iron hits, they moan. It’s like no other sound in God’s world.’

He ran his hand across the stump of his knee. ‘There’s some as will say that they make no sound, none that humans can hear, anyroad, but I’ll tell thee, and other seamen will vouch for it, that they do, we’ve heard ’em.’

His eyes glazed and he was absent from the room with its smoky, flickering firelight, gone from them to a distant land. ‘When we get to the ice, and whales are about, even though we’re a long way off, it’s as if they can hear us, even though we try to keep quiet. Then they start to sing, as if they’re calling to us! I tell thee, I’ve never heard music like it. It’s eerie and mournful and beautiful, as if it’s from some other world. It carries across water and ice and seems to echo from all sides. Tha can feel it pounding through ’ship and through thy body. Men get scared and can’t wait to kill ’monsters, just to get it over with.’