Authors: Valerie Wood
She bit her lip. She hadn’t intended telling him yet about the expected child. She had been going to wait until he was home, for she knew that the pleasure which she had first anticipated in telling him would now be another blow, bringing with it the hardship of another mouth to feed.
Will groaned. ‘Oh God – how shall we manage? Another child! I’m sorry, Maria, I know how tha’s longed for another bairn. Pray God it will be a boy and can soon fend for hissen.’
‘Fayther,’ interrupted Tom, ‘did tha save somebody’s life, like Ma was told?’
Will brushed aside the boy’s question. ‘I’ll tell thee about it some time, Tom, not now.’
‘Tha fayther’s tired now, Tom, and must get his rest, and we must be getting back to Alice,’ said Maria, rising from the chair as she saw fatigue in Will’s face.
A nurse came in with a rush light in each hand and placed them in iron brackets on the wall where they gave out a smoky glow.
‘Is it night?’ asked Will. ‘I seem to have mixed up days and nights.’
Maria bent to kiss him, and stroked his thick red beard. ‘Nay, it’s still day, but so black and stormy it could be midnight.’
Will saw them go, his wife and son, and with warnings for them to take care as the road into the town was a lonely one, he settled down as he was bid by the nurse to try and rest, but he had no sooner dozed off to sleep when he was roused again, this time by the nurse who gently shook him by the shoulder.
‘Wake up, Mr Foster. Here’s a gentleman for thee.’
This information was conveyed in a more respectful manner than was usual, and she departed, giving a polite curtsey to the visitor standing by the bed.
That he was a gentleman was obvious from his appearance; fresh complexioned, he was perhaps sixteen or seventeen years of age. None of Will’s acquaintances wore smooth silk stockings or carried clean white gloves as did this young man who smiled down at him, and he was perplexed.
‘Mr Foster – Will, it’s good to see you! I have been extremely anxious about you.’ His voice was cultured.
‘I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid tha has me at a disadvantage.’ Will thought the face and voice seemed familiar and yet he had no recollection of having ever met him.
The young man’s smile broadened and he gave a mock bow. ‘John Rayner at your service, Mr Foster, lately of the good ship
Polar Star
!’
His smile disappeared and he became serious. ‘Surely you remember the man whose life you saved? But for you, I would now be sleeping in a watery grave with only the creatures of the ocean for company!’
‘Young John!’ exclaimed Will with a grin and pulled himself up in the bed. ‘I didn’t recognize thee, sir,’ he added as realization told him that this was no ordinary shipmate.
The crew of the whaler had known that the youth assigned to them was of a different class by his manner and speech, but he had not assumed a superior attitude towards them. They were familiar with the sons of merchants coming on board the whalers for a voyage, but they usually shared the master’s cabin, unlike ‘Young John’, as they had called him, who had taken his food with the men and shared their accommodation.
‘Mr Foster – Will, I have come to thank you yet again, as I fear that you were in no fit state to listen to my thanks whilst on board. We were fearful that you would not make the voyage home, and I was grieved to think that it was due to my carelessness.’
‘Nay, tha was inexperienced, that’s all, we all learn by our mistakes,’ answered Will, ‘and from what I recall it wasn’t just thee who should tek ’blame.’ He lay back on his pillow and looked at John Rayner. He remembered it all so clearly now.
They’d lowered their boat into the water with five men on board, rather than wait for a replacement for the sixth who was sick, for the whales were there and they didn’t want to miss out on a kill. Alan Swinburn was the boatsteerer and linesman, Richard Bewley, Rob Hardwick and himself were harpooners and young John was there to assist.
Three other boats had put off from the
Polar Star
and others could be seen from the
Greenland Star
which had anchored nearby. There had been good fishing that day and the men were jubilant: there would be a handsome bonus on their return home.
They’d secured two whales with the help of two of the other boats and were returning to the whaler, when a third whale appeared alongside them. It was obviously in great distress and a gaping hole could be seen in its side where a harpoon had hit but the line severed. The whale, on seeing them so close, plunged suddenly below them, causing the sea to erupt and tossing the boat about wildly. It emerged again, staining the turbulent water with its blood, its great body threshing in convulsive spasms.
Rob Hardwick threw a harpoon and secured a hit, paying out the line to secure it, but the whale dived again and drew them closer to the ice.
It was as it rose again from the depths of the seething sea that Richard Bewley threw his harpoon with all his force, but the boat at the same time was pulled with such speed by the frantic creature that he overbalanced and disappeared over the side.
Now there was a great commotion as the other boats drew around, trying to secure the stricken whale, while the men in Will’s boat searched the icy sea in vain for Bewley. It proved an impossible task for the weight of the whale drew them away from the area in which he had fallen.
‘Are you in much pain?’ John Rayner’s question disturbed Will’s meditation.
‘Not so much as I was,’ he answered. ‘Only I could swear that my leg is still there, it throbs that much.’ He could still feel, or thought he could, the ever increasing tightness of the line around his leg.
Alan Swinburn had handed over the task of linesman to John whilst he concentrated on keeping the boat steady as they were pulled faster and faster through the water towards the ice. But John, though willing, was inexperienced in the work and though he worked fast, throwing water over the lines to stop them from burning with friction, he somehow entangled himself in the uncoiling rope and with a terrified shout toppled overboard.
Will had moved swiftly, and leaning perilously over the side managed to grab hold of the drowning boy by his hair, holding fast as the boat plunged violently. It was then that he’d felt the lash of the line, for with no-one to feed it out it ran uncontrollably faster and faster, until finally it whiplashed with great speed and ferocity around his leg.
He recalled the agonizing burning and yet his grip had tightened on the boy and he didn’t let go. Rob Hardwick without hesitation swung his axe and severed the line which held Will fast and would have dragged him out of the boat. Together they had managed to pull the half-drowned boy out of the water. Now, piece by piece, Will and John Rayner put together the memories of that terrible day. Other boats were put off from the
Polar Star
when it was seen that they were in difficulties, and the whale with a final frenzied struggle was slaughtered and the blood-stained corpse towed back to the whaler.
‘We were given rum and blankets when we got back on board,’ John said. ‘I swear I shall never feel so cold again as I did that day.’
It was some hours later that the surgeon, Mr Ambrose, was sent for to attend Will’s leg, for the flesh had ballooned up around the circle of line below his knee and the men couldn’t cut it free. The surgeon painstakingly picked with his scalpel until the line fell away, but by now the wound was bleeding and raw and Will couldn’t stand. He was given another tot of rum and put to bed in the surgeon’s cabin.
‘I don’t recall what else happened,’ Will frowned, ‘but perhaps it’s just as well.’
‘You were very ill and delirious for days,’ John replied, ‘and we thought that you would die, for your leg became gangrenous. Mr Ambrose took the decision with the captain’s consent, that the only chance you had was if he amputated.’
John shuddered. He remembered the nausea he had felt when the surgeon opened up his wooden case and he had seen the array of knives and instruments designed, so Mr Ambrose explained to him, to cut quickly through flesh and sinew, before the patient went into shock. ‘I felt that it was because of me you were in such a perilous state, and I should volunteer to assist him. I might say that I hope in God’s name I never ever have to do it again.’
‘Don’t think on it now,’ replied Will calmly to alleviate his distress, for he realized that the young man was troubled by the incident. Over the years at sea Will had seen many accidents with flensing knives and drownings, and knew that it took years to become hardened.
‘But I am in your debt, Will, and you must let me help you in any way that I can. I am not yet of age of course and cannot help with finance, but I have told my uncle, Isaac Masterson, who is also my guardian, of the circumstances and that I wish to be of service to you.’
Will’s eyebrows rose: he had had no idea who this young man’s family was and he was surprised that he was a nephew of the shipowner. And yet his words also angered him, for he was a proud man and not prepared to accept charity from anyone. He replied civilly but curtly, ‘I thank thee most kindly, Mr Rayner, but I have no need of thy charity. I only did what I would do for any man, no matter what his station, and as soon as I am out of this hospital bed I’ll find work of some kind.’
John Rayner flushed. ‘I beg your pardon, Will, I didn’t intend to sound condescending.’ He put out his hand. ‘Come, let’s shake hands, I came only with good intentions and to offer my grateful thanks.’
Will’s good nature was restored. He saw that his former shipmate was genuinely concerned and put out his hand. ‘If tha has a mind to help, Mr John, there is summat tha could do. I don’t want owt for myself but I’m worried about my Maria. She’s expecting another bairn, and our young ’un is sick. If tha could see that she gets my benefit, I would appreciate it, just till I get out of here.’
With the promise that he would do all he could John Rayner left, leaving Will to ponder once more on what the future held for him.
A dark mass of cloud hung low over them as Maria and Tom made their way back from the Infirmary along the road into the town. She turned to look back just once, but all she could see of the building was a dim light shining through the windows; the rest of the building was shrouded by the sleeting rain which was coming down in torrents, drenching their thin clothes and making them cling coldly round their bodies.
‘Oh, Tom, I must stop and rest a bit, or I fear ’worst, I’m fair wore out.’
They were within sight of the town’s perimeter and could see the square tower of the new church of St John, the wooden scaffolding still surrounding the unfinished building.
‘Let’s shelter in ’church, Ma,’ said Tom, his teeth chattering with cold. His cap pulled down around his ears, he took hold of her hand and hurried her towards the red brick walls.
They sat on the stone floor beneath the raised arches, watching as the rain splashed and cascaded on the road outside, until Maria felt that she could continue. Still the rain persisted, and now she began to feel uneasy. She knew that if it did not abate, then at high tide the river might well break over the banks and flood the streets as it had done so often before, oozing thick mud and slime down the alleys and entries and into the houses.
‘We must get back, Tom, I’m bothered about our Alice,’ she said, picking herself up from the stone floor, her bones aching with cold. She wondered if God’s presence was yet in the unconsecrated church, for although she wouldn’t have described herself as religious she had a simple trust in His mercy.
She peered through the door into the empty building, which was littered with bricks and stone and workmen’s materials, and gazed up at the tiers of unglazed windows, searching for a sign of spiritual existence, then offered up a silent prayer asking Him to look kindly on them in their need.
As they scurried through the entry, their heads bent against the wind which was now blowing hard, they felt the coldness of water around their ankles, and slippery mud beneath the thin soles of their boots, which were now wet and useless against the weather. The water hadn’t yet reached their door but was almost up to the step.
The fire was out and the room in darkness and Maria called upstairs, ‘We’re back, Mrs Morton, I’ll take Alice now.’
‘Come on up, Maria, and have a warm by ’fire, tha must be half starved.’
Mrs Morton was sitting by a blazing fire, with Alice on one knee and her own youngest suckling at her breast, her skirts pulled up around her fat thighs which were toasting from the heat of the fire.
‘Don’t ask where we got ’fuel,’ she said with a sly grin when she saw the look of amazement on Maria’s face. ‘Our Francis brought it home and it doesn’t do to ask too many questions.’ She leaned forward and stirred a pot of stew that was bubbling on the flames.
‘He brought back a nice piece o’ meat as well that somebody give him.’ She sighed contentedly, ‘There’s some grand folk about, Maria, always willing to part company with summat for a few favours.’
Maria didn’t ask any questions, but she and Tom moved nearer to the heat of the fire. It was well known by the local community that the Mortons’ eldest son was a rogue and a thief. How he had kept out of the county jail and avoided transportation no-one could understand, except that he was a happy-go-lucky charmer who had probably bribed officials with the promise of favours to follow.
‘Tek off tha shawl and tha skirt, Maria, tha’s soaked through.’ Mrs Morton moved back to make more room. ‘Come on, and thee, young Tom, tek off tha boots and dry thissen.’
They sat by the blazing fire, their wet clothes steaming, and accepted Mrs Morton’s offer of supper, which Maria thought tasted wonderful as she supped the hot greasy stew.
‘By, that was grand, Mrs Morton, ’best I’ve ever tasted,’ said Tom enthusiastically as he drained his bowl. Mrs Morton gave him a cuff around the ear and took the bowl from him, refilling it from the cauldron.
‘Plenty more where that came from,’ she laughed cheerfully. ‘Anything tha wants, our Frank can get.’ She winked knowingly at Maria. ‘Tha only has to ask.’
‘’Only thing that I want is for Will to get better. And there’s nothing nor nobody can give him back his leg. Nor have we anything to offer in return for a favour,’ Maria added so as not to offend Mrs Morton who had been both kind and generous towards them.