Authors: Irene Carr
‘
You are Mr Edward Spencer, sir, and you are my guardian.’ He had that off by heart, as he had been taught. His father had gone down with his ship and all her crew in a typhoon. He had long ago written to Edward asking him to care for his son if he should die. Edward had agreed willingly, thinking it a sensible precaution for his friend to make but never expecting to have to honour his promise.
He thought now that there was something about the boy
’s face in repose that suggested he might show something of his mother when he laughed. He was not laughing now and looked as if he might never smile again. ‘That’s right, and you are going to live here with me. Would you like that?’
‘
Yes, sir.’ That was said politely but hesitantly. Then William added, breaking away from his trained replies, ‘But I want to go to sea and be a ship’s captain like my father.’
‘
Ssh!’ the nurse scolded, shocked, and Elspeth pursed her lips.
Edward put up a hand to silence the nurse.
‘My thanks to you for caring for him. I’m grateful.’ He glanced at Elspeth. ‘Will you find this lady a bed for the night, please, and then come back here?’
When they had gone he turned back to little William. The boy looks like his father, he thought, the dead spit of him. And now he could see in him both parents. Instinctively he went to the child and swept him up in his arms.
‘Your father was my best friend.’ And he had married the only girl Edward had ever loved. There had never been another like her and she had died giving birth to William.
Edward sat down in an armchair with the boy on his knees and held him close to his chest. When Elspeth returned a few minutes later she found them so, with William sound asleep. She clicked her tongue and said softly,
‘Poor little lamb, he’s tired out. Let me have him, sir, and I’ll tend to him. He’ll be the better for being in bed.’
Edward yielded up his ward with barely concealed reluctance. He supposed that would be the best for the boy. Elspeth cradled him in her arms and kissed him.
‘And him wanting to be a ship’s captain like his father!’ She shook her head. ‘He’ll soon grow out of it.’
Edward was not sure about that.
17 FEBRUARY
1891, NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE
‘What are you doing, Dad?’ Eliza Thornton, just five years old that day and curious, snuggled closer to the father who came into her life so rarely. He was short, wiry and tough, and she had to learn about him all over again every time he came home. That might be after an absence of weeks, months or a year, but she learned more quickly now. He sat at the kitchen table with the model before him. He had spent weeks making it during his last voyage, starting with a block of wood and using only a knife.
Andrew smiled down at her.
‘I’m setting up the rigging.’ His thick-fingered hands, the backs tattooed, handled the thin cotton delicately.
‘
What’s rigging?’ Eliza asked, brown eyes wide.
‘
All these lines that hold up the sails.’ The model was of a clipper, a full-rigged ship.
‘
These stringy bits.’ Eliza poked a finger at the cat’s cradle of cottons.
‘
That’s right.’
‘
Have you been on a ship like that?’
‘
A few.’ Andrew grinned at her.
‘
Are you going on another one?’ She peered up at him anxiously.
‘
Not for a bit.’ His wife glanced across at him from where she stood by the fire and the open oven door. He saw the sudden droop of her mouth. But then her gaze shifted to Eliza and she smiled again.
‘
You are clever, Dad,’ Eliza said wistfully. ‘When I try to sew I get my fingers mixed up, don’t I, Mam?’
Kitty crossed to her and kissed her.
‘You’ll be able to do all those things soon when you’re a big lass. You’re doing very canny. Now why don’t you finish cooking the dinner for your dolly and let your dad get on?’
‘
Ooh! I’d forgot.’ Eliza scrambled down from the chair and hurried to where the rag doll — her birthday present —leaned on the brass fender, polished so it glittered, like the fire-irons of poker, shovel and coal rake inside it. They were for decoration: there was another set made of steel for use. Eliza opened an imaginary oven door and peeped in at an imaginary pie.
Kitty put an arm round her husband
’s broad shoulders and said softly, ‘Isn’t she a bonny little lass?’
‘
Aye.’ Andrew squeezed her hand. ‘Like her mother.’
She laughed.
‘Hadaway wi’ ye.’ And then, with a sigh, ‘It’s nearly finished.’
‘
Just about.’ He was talking of the model.
But Kitty had been thinking of his time at home:
‘You’ll be after another ship afore long.’
‘
I’ll have to,’ Andrew said soberly. ‘The money from that last voyage won’t spin out for much longer.’ He was silent a moment, then said, ‘I don’t like leaving you and the bairn but I’m a sailorman and that’s the only trade I know. One of these days I’ll have to find a job ashore, but it’ll only be labouring. I’ll stick to the sea for a few years yet.’
Kitty knew she could not change him, knew also that he followed a dangerous trade. Between 188
0 and 1882 more than three hundred British ships had been lost. She said bravely, ‘Don’t worry about us. Eliza is good company for me now.’
‘
I can’t get over how she’s grown,’ Andrew said.
* * *
In Sunderland Edward Spencer smiled. ‘My word, Cecily, how you’ve grown.’ The child stood in front of him, restless in her expensive sailor suit and ankle-strap shoes. She was itching to take the wrapped present Edward had brought her. He could see behind her, through an open door, the twenty or so small boys and girls, dressed in their best suits and frocks, who were the guests at Cecily’s birthday party. They waited, with the nursemaids who had accompanied them, for the games to begin. Later there would be tea with thin slices of bread and butter, big cakes, little cakes and scones. Then, to crown it all, a Punch and Judy show.
Edward handed over the parcel. Cecily snatched it and said hastily,
‘Thank you, Uncle Edward.’ She undid the string and paper to unwrap the doll within, glanced at it, then said proudly, ‘I have six now.’ She ran off and Edward watched her go, his smile fading. But she was not his child. He thought of William Morgan, ten years old now and growing tall and straight. Maybe Cecily would improve with age. He went to join the provider of the feast.
Charles received him in his study. It was lined with books and furnished with a desk and two leather armchairs. He looked up from his newspaper as Edward entered.
‘Ah! There you are.’ He rose from his chair. ‘What can I offer you?’
Edward did not want anything but said diplomatically,
‘A small whisky and water, please.’ As Charles poured it and topped up his own, he added, ‘I’ve just congratulated your daughter. I didn’t see Millicent.’
‘
She’s out playing whist,’ said Charles, without interest. ‘Children’s parties give her a migraine.’ He gestured to the chairs before the fire. ‘I’d like to have a chat with you.’ They sat down, their backs to the door, and Charles went on, ‘We must increase our profitability, make the ships work harder, spend less on them.’
Edward had come prepared for this.
‘There are safety factors involved, and we have to think of the men. This is an old argument—’
‘
I know damn fine it is! Because we never settle the matter!’
‘
You mean, I don’t let you have your way.’
‘
I’m supposed to be a partner but you rule the roost!’
‘
Our father—’
‘
I know what he said, and I don’t believe he intended you to run this business as if it was yours alone! He was prepared to take a chance.’
Edward shook his head.
‘He always looked before he leaped.’
‘
You look and look but never leap! You’re an old man before your time! If I had my share invested anywhere else I would do far better than being bound by your pinchpenny tactics. Half the time I’m living on my wife’s money.’
Old man! Pinchpenny! Edward
’s temper boiled over: ‘If you’re using your wife’s money it’s because you’re living beyond your means!’
‘
To hell with that! And you!’ Both men were on their feet now, glaring. ‘That is the last straw!’ Charles shouted. ‘I want my share of the firm — in cash. I’ll go through the courts to get it, if I have to, and then I’ll be quit of you and this place.’
‘
As you wish.’ Edward’s tone was cold but he was sick at heart. He had seen this coming for some time, the constant, niggling arguments, his brother’s complaints. ‘You’ll have no need to go through the courts. I will put the matter into the hands of solicitors tomorrow.’
He stalked out, the study door already ajar. Charles went
with him, flushed with rage. Edward picked his way through the children, who were scurrying about in the game of hide and seek. Charles almost stumbled over them and muttered curses under his breath. He flung open the front door and Edward passed through it. They parted without another word.
*
* *
Behind them, in the study, Cecily sat hidden by the sideboard. She had crept in there, minutes before, in the game of hide and seek and had listened to the angry words. She crouched with her knees to her chin and tears on her cheeks. She did not understand what had happened, only that it was something terrible that she should not have heard. She would not tell another soul.
* * *
A month later Charles Spencer and his family took the train south to London. He had his inheritance and was eager to make his fortune. Millicent looked forward to taking her place in Society in the capital city. On this last day, his carriage sold, Charles took a cab to the quayside. It was the least he could do: a number of officers and men in Spencer ships had contributed to buy him
a fine pocket watch engraved: ‘For Charles Spencer from Officers and Men of the Spencer Line with Best Wishes’. In truth, few had paid and Edward had made up the difference, but Charles was going down to the river to thank them.
Millicent had never visited the quay or the ships before because neither interested her. Nor had Cecily. As the cab threaded through the narrow, crowded streets, she stared out at ragged children scattering out of the way, then running in its wake. Then there was a shop of some sort and a thin, wild-eyed woman all in black, who ran out to keep pace alongside the cab. She shook her fist and screamed,
‘Murderers! Bloody murderers!’ The children fled from her and she came closer, yelled, ‘I’ll see you all burn in hell one day!’
Cecily shrank back, terrified. But now the cabbie whipped up his horse and the mad woman was left behind.
‘Good heavens! Was that—’ Millicent was interrupted.
‘
Iris Cruikshank,’ Charles finished for her. ‘You know the story.’ And to his daughter, staring big-eyed with fear, ‘Take no notice. The woman is bereft of her senses.’ But Cecily was not comforted.
Later that day she sat in the corner of the first-class carriage with tears in her eyes.
‘You’ll like living in London,’ her mother consoled her irritably. ‘You’ll go to the zoo and see the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace.’
Cecily did not know what she was talking about.
‘I just want to get away from this place!’ she wailed.
‘
Well, you
are
getting away from it, so stop crying.’ Millicent opened the novel she had brought. Charles was already hidden behind
The
Times
. Cecily rubbed her eyes and watched the town recede behind her. There lived Uncle Edward, who had exchanged angry words with her father, and that mad woman with her threats. She hated it and determined she would never return.
MARCH 1894, SOUTH ATLANTIC
The storm came on them suddenly as they were rounding the Horn. First there was just a black bar along the horizon but this thickened with every blink of the eye until it loomed as a huge cloud. Young William Morgan stood on the bridge of the SS
Glendower
with the other apprentices, receiving instruction in the noon observation of the sun from the first officer. This was his first voyage and his sextant was brand new. So was his uniform, but that already showed signs of wear: weeks at sea had seen to that. He had a small sum, left him by his father, but that was held in a trust, so Edward Spencer had paid for his kit and the sextant. At thirteen he was the youngest of the four apprentices but not the shortest. Tall for his age, he stood eye to eye with one of his colleagues and topped another by an inch or two.
The first officer finished taking his sight and ordered,
‘Belay that! We’re in for some dirty weather. See everything is lashed down.’ He called the captain to the bridge as the boys scattered to put away their sextants and turn to.