Cave of Secrets (5 page)

‘My brother will be meeting us at the mouth of our river,’ Séamus replied, ‘with a larger boat to carry cargo. Get in now.’

‘Just a moment.’ Tom ran to the cave and tucked his shoes and stockings inside. Then he waded into the shallows and tried to climb into the currach.

Getting in was not as easy as it looked. The little boat was as skittish as a nervous horse. When it felt his weight it tilted violently to one side.

Séamus laughed. ‘Easy, lad. Do not lunge at her, come up easy, like. Slip over the side like an eel over a tree root.’ He leaned away from Tom to balance the boat, and the boy tried again.

‘Easy, like,’ Tom muttered under his breath.

After two more embarrassing attempts he finally managed to get in without overturning the currach. Aside from
leaning
, Séamus had done nothing to help him. ‘Sit still now,’ he instructed. He took up the oars and began to row. ‘Watch what I do, lad. Ye might do this yourself some day.’

Tom gave the pair of oars a hard look. They were very long and narrow, with a flat blade at the end instead of a
paddle. He could not imagine them propelling a boat
forward
. But when skilfully handled by Séamus, they made the small currach seem to fly over the water.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Roaringwater Bay

‘
M
r Fox has not called on you since the betrothal party,’ William Flynn said accusingly. ‘What have you done to upset him, Elizabeth?’

‘How could I upset him if I have not seen him?’

‘You must encourage your suitor more, my girl. You don’t have so many danglers you can afford to let this one get away.’

‘I accepted his offer of marriage, Father, what more do you want?’

Flynn could no longer restrain himself, even with one of his beloved daughters. ‘It is woman’s work to keep the pot on the boil! You should have been writing frequent letters to Herbert Fox, assuring him of your undying devotion.
Scenting
the letters with some of the expensive perfume I gave you. Must I think of everything myself? The lot of you hang out of me like leeches. Taking and taking, never giving!’

Elizabeth ran crying to her mother. ‘I’ve done everything Father asked of me, always. Still he wants more. Is there no pleasing him?’

Lying half submerged in the pile of pillows on her bed, Catherine Flynn turned a pale face towards her daughter. Elizabeth bent low to hear her words.

‘What did William ask of you now?’

‘To embroider some flags for Mr Fox’s ships. I’m not
artistic
, Mother, you know I’m not. My embroidery is pitiful. Ginny should be doing this. Then I could say it was mine.’

‘That would not be honest, dear. You would be deceiving the man who has promised to marry you.’

‘What difference would that make? Have you always told Father everything?’

Mrs Flynn said, ‘William knows all there is to know about me.’ Her whispery voice faded to a mere thread. ‘Yet he loves me anyway.’

Elizabeth stood at her mother’s bedside, looking down. ‘Of course he does, Mother. You are beautiful.’

Catherine Flynn gave a hollow laugh.

The rhythmic sound of the oars …
tloc swoosh, tloc swoosh, tloc swoosh
… accompanied the little boat like a kind of music. Séamus stayed close to the shore. Tom relaxed and began to enjoy himself.

He was careful to watch how Séamus handled the oars.

Travelling in a boat, he decided, was easier and more
pleasant than travelling on land. Riding the waves. He could imagine himself making other, longer voyages. Perhaps some day he might even sail to the New World.

Come and take a ride with me upon my magic pony, fast and far we’ll travel all the live long day
…

As night took hold, the sky above the bay was losing its peacock radiance. There was no visible moon.

They reached the mouth of the little river more quickly than he had expected. Muiris, Seán and Fergal, the younger of the two male cousins, were waiting with a much larger currach. ‘Isn’t Donal coming?’ Tom asked.

‘Donal is still a boy,’ said Muiris. ‘Strong and willing surely, but what we do tonight is man’s work.’

Man’s work. Tom wished his father could hear those words.

Transferring into the larger boat was another challenge. No one offered to help him this time. He was directed to sit in the middle of the boat. ‘I don’t suppose you know how to row?’ Seán asked.

‘Not yet,’ said Tom.

‘Not yet,’ Muiris echoed. ‘D’ye hear him, lads? He has a head on his shoulders, this one. Tomás knows he is for the rowing.’

Séamus stood knee deep in water to shove the currach forward, then vaulted over the side and took a place in the stern. The drumbeat of oars with four men rowing was like
a mighty heartbeat.

The waves came to meet them.

In common with all currachs, the boat was made of hides stretched over a light but sturdy frame of wickerwork. It was large enough to transport a grown cow from one island to another. As flexible as a living creature, the currach adapted to every wave.

Tom had watched his father’s head groom break colts to the saddle. The young horses leaped and plunged, but the head groom clung to them like a burr. He made it look easy. As the currach began to leap and plunge Tom realised it was not easy. His head knew he was in no danger of falling, but his stomach had a different opinion.

‘Sit easy, lad,’ Muiris said out of the side of his mouth. ‘Do not fight the motion, ride with it.’

Tom followed his advice. Soon he was grinning into the wind. His eyes adjusted to the darkness. The water seemed to give off a faint light of its own, as if reflecting the vanished day.

He had not brought a warm coat because he had never seen the others wearing warm coats. It was cold on the bay after the sun went down, but he loved it. The pitch sealing the seams of the oxhide had a sharp smell that caught in the back of his throat. He loved it.

At night Roaringwater Bay seemed larger than ever. Wave upon heaving wave rolled away towards the end of the world. Tom could not tell where the boat was in relation to
the land. If the land was still out there. Perhaps it had
disappeared
entirely, and he would ride the cresting waves in the company of these men forever.

He loved it.

When he saw a dark bulk looming off to one side he knew they were passing an island. Soon a small red glow appeared to the other side.

‘There she is,’ Seán announced. ‘I see the captain’s lamp.’

The oarsmen adjusted their direction.

‘Sit easy, Tomás,’ Muiris said again. ‘You are not going aboard this time.’

This time!

‘Stay in the boat with Séamus and Fergal to receive our cargo. Séamus will show you how to distribute the load evenly in the bottom of the boat. It is important to keep a currach stable.’

Tom had seen sailing ships only at a distance. He had no idea of their true size. As the currach drew alongside, he had to tilt his head back to look up as far as the gunwales. He had expected great sails towering overhead, yards and yards of billowing canvas like the clouds that sailed above the bay. But the sails were lowered. The wind whistled through the shrouds.

Tom was awestruck. ‘That ship is enormous!’

Séamus laughed. ‘You think that’s big? She’s only a little Portuguese caravel out of Lisbon.’

‘How can you tell?’

‘Easy enough. She has a square-rigged foremast raked well forward, with a foresail and topsail and a spritsail over the bows. That high stern is to keep her from being
overwhelmed
by following seas when she’s sailing before the wind. Her flags tell her nationality and home port.’

‘Oh,’ said Tom.

A rope ladder was thrown down from above. Muiris and Seán scrambled up with marvellous agility and disappeared over the rail. The others waited below.

Tom was aware of the bulk of the ship looming above him. The caravel had a voice of its own. It groaned and muttered like an old man who could not get comfortable in his bed. From somewhere deep in its bowels came a rumbling noise.

Time passed. The men waiting in the currach heard human voices above them, though they could not make out the words. Someone held a lantern aloft and peered over the side. The light lasted only for a few moments before it was withdrawn.

More time passed. Then – ‘Ready below?’ Muiris called down.

‘Ready,’ Séamus answered crisply.

A loaded cargo net was swung over the side of the ship and lowered, swinging, toward the water. Séamus and Fergal prepared to pull it into the boat. Tom was faster. He leaped to his feet and tried to catch hold of the net himself.

The currach promptly rolled sideways, in the direction of the waiting ship. Tom frantically cartwheeled his arms in the air to regain his balance.

He failed.

The icy water waited below. The caravel was so close it looked like crushing him. He tried to throw himself back into the boat, but his weight was too far committed in the other direction. He felt himself going, going ….

A strong hand caught him by the back of his collar and pulled him to safety.

‘
Amadán
!’ scolded Fergal. ‘What are you doing at all?’

‘Trying to help,’ Tom panted.

‘You can help by following instructions. Sit down there and wait,’ said Séamus.

Tom sat.

The two men eased the loaded cargo net into the middle of the boat. When it was settled, Fergal whistled two short notes. The lantern was held over the rail again. ‘Is there any more?’ Fergal called up.

‘One more. Mind yourselves now.’

‘Sit still, Tomás,’ Séamus repeated, unnecessarily. Tom was folded in upon himself, too ashamed to move.

When the second net reached the currach the two men settled it behind the first. Séamus told Tom, ‘Ease towards the stern now while we open the nets.’

Tom needed all of his courage to obey. The slightest
movement
 
of the currach made his stomach turn over. When he reached the stern, Séamus said, ‘I will hand you boxes from one of the nets. Arrange them in the bottom of the boat. The lightest in the front, the heavier ones behind.’

In near darkness, Tom obeyed. The boxes were of different shapes and sizes. Some rattled when he lifted them. ‘What’s in these?’

‘Spices and palm oil,’ said Fergal, ‘from the West Indies. We have jugs of black rum, too. They go in the centre of the boat.’

‘What is black rum?’

‘The sweetest drink you could ever taste, Tomás, except you won’t be tasting this lot. Neither will the men who are expecting it. Their shipment seems to have come up short.’

The two men cackled with laughter.

When the nets were empty and their contents stowed in the currach, Fergal gave another sharp whistle. Unseen hands hauled the empty nets back up to the deck of the ship. Moments later, Muiris and Seán climbed down the rope ladder and into their boat.

‘Good job, lads,’ Muiris remarked as they rowed away from the ship.

Tom expected Séamus to tell his brother about Tom’s disobedience. When he said nothing, the boy threw him a grateful glance – which Séamus could not see in the dark.

After a few minutes Tom remarked, ‘You didn’t really need
me, Muiris. You had enough men already.’

‘Enough for this job, perhaps, but there will be other times when we do need help. It is important that you have
experience
.’

‘I’ve had plenty of experience tonight,’ Tom said truthfully.

The currach travelled on. Ploughing the rough sea, under the silent stars.

‘Did you pay the captain?’ Fergal asked Muiris.

‘I did, of course. I paid him exactly what we had agreed. He thought he should have more, but …’

‘You made him think again.’

‘I made him think again,’ said Muiris. ‘We will have a nice profit out of this night’s work.’

Tom spoke up. ‘If you paid him, it wasn’t robbery.’

‘Of course it was not robbery,’ Muiris said. He sounded insulted. ‘It was business. Though I grant you, it can be hard to tell the difference. Some ship captains are honest. Others, like the one on that caravel, are corrupt to the bone. They skim their ship’s supplies and sell the goods ashore, or keep the ship undermanned and pocket the money that is meant to hire a larger crew. And it is not always the captain who is dishonest. Sometimes it is the owner. There are many ways in which the owner of a ship, or a fleet of ships, can enrich himself and no one the wiser. Och, Tomás, we have many partners in our business.’

William Flynn stood in the doorway of his wife’s bed-
chamber
. ‘Are you awake? The hour is late, but–’

‘I am usually awake, even at this hour,’ replied a soft voice from the darkness. ‘Is something wrong, William?’

‘I fear I must return to Dublin.’ He went to sit beside her on the bed. ‘I should never have left the capital when I did. I let myself be discouraged and gave in, which is not like me.’

‘No, dear,’ she agreed, moving over to make more room for him.

‘I hesitate to tell you this because I do not want to worry you, Kate. Strangers have been asking questions in Bantry about the size of my property. Unless I act quickly, the
bailiffs
may throw us off our land and give it to the New
English
.’

His wife gave a muffled cry of distress.

He swiftly gathered her into his arms. ‘Don’t be
frightened
, Kate,’ he murmured. ‘’Pon my honour, I vow no one will take your home from you.’

‘How can you prevent it?’

‘By following the advice I was given,’ he replied. ‘I shall call on the Lord Deputy, Thomas Wentworth, in Dublin Castle. Beg him on bended knee if I must. My desire for a political appointment is not merely selfish ambition; it is a matter of
survival. If I have a position with the administration I can protect my property.’

‘Are you certain?’

‘I am not certain of anything any more,’ Flynn said
gloomily
.

She forgot her own distress. ‘Oh my dear, this will mean another dreadfully long ride for you.’

‘Not this time. In the interest of haste, I shall ride to Cobh and book passage on a ship from there.’ He forced a smile. ‘We are about to have a ship owner in the family, remember? Might as well make use of him.’