The Fisher Lass (41 page)

‘You watch it, Dad, you know what rum does to you,’ Angus teased, knocking back his own tot like an old hand.

‘And you just wait till I tell your mother about you!’

‘Skipper’s keeping himself to himself, ain’t he?’ was the only other remark Robert overheard, though he guessed there were plenty went on out of his hearing.

‘Aye, well, awk’ard for him, ain’t it?’

‘Oh aye. I s’pose it is,’ came the reply and Robert, as he carried two mugs of tea and two plates of bread and butter along the rolling deck, felt their glance upon him. But by
the third day, they were taking their tea and saying, ‘Thanks, mate.’

Ted Gutteridge, the cook, had been blunt. ‘Well, Mester Gorton, I can’t say I’m pleased to have you aboard, but since you’re here and we’ve got to rub along for the
next three weeks, that’s the last time I’m going to call you that. From now on, you’re Rob and you take your orders from me.’

‘Right you are, Mr Gutteridge . . .’ Robert had begun, but the man had stuck out his hand, grinned and corrected, ‘Ted.’

Robert took his hand. ‘Ted, it is.’

Ted had seemed to relax a little. ‘It’s a dangerous place, the galley. Specially in a force nine gale.’ He jerked his thumb upwards. ‘Oh I know it’s rougher up
there, but they don’t have a pan of boiling soup slopping over their legs if the ship gives a lurch.’

Robert nodded, respecting the man’s trade. ‘You just tell me what you want me to do, Ted, and I’ll do it.’

Ted slapped his new galley boy on the shoulder. ‘Good man.’

Trying not to make it noticeable, Robert still tried to keep a watchful eye on Angus, though it was not easy since he was in the galley most of the time whilst the boy was on deck.

Over the next few days, once the tension had eased, ‘Rob’ was surprised to find that in a masochistic kind of way he was actually enjoying himself.

He saw little of Joe and nor did Angus, though Robert was thankful to see that Sammy had taken the boy under his wing. In fact, Angus became the third hand’s shadow.

‘When we get to the grounds,’ Ted told Robert, ‘he’ll have to keep out of his way a bit then. Dangerous job, Sammy’s got, y’know. He’s the one who
releases the knot when the trawl net comes aboard. I’ve seen a man killed doing that.’

Robert said nothing, but he was wondering if he had been right to go against Jeannie’s instincts and allow their son come to sea. Even though he was aboard too, he couldn’t watch the
boy every minute, nor could he be sure of being able to keep the lad out of potentially dangerous situations.

The moment the ship had nosed its way out of the mouth of the Humber, past the lightship and into the treacherous waters of the North Sea to begin its eight-hundred-mile voyage to the fishing
grounds off the northeast coast of Iceland, there was danger.

Suddenly, with a stab of fear, Robert realized, strangely now only for the first time, that the four men who mattered most in the world to Jeannie were all aboard this vessel.

With both Robert and Angus away, Jeannie felt lost. Although she saw Edwin every day, either visiting him at the Gorton offices or inviting him to dine with her in the evening,
there were still too many hours when she was alone. He took her to the theatre twice in the first week but afterwards Jeannie could not have said what the plays were about; her thoughts were out at
sea.

There was one person who would understand how she felt. Thelma. On the first morning of the second week since they had sailed, Jeannie stood outside the terraced house in Wessex Street.

‘Hello, Mam. What are you doing here?’

‘I hope you don’t mind . . .’ Jeannie began, stepping into the kitchen but then she stopped as she glanced round in amazement. Every surface gleamed and sparkled. From the
scullery came the smell of freshly baking bread and the girl herself was smiling at Jeannie. She had gained a little weight and her face had lost that gaunt, discontented look. Thelma was no longer
a girl, Jeannie reminded herself, but a young woman. She must be in her mid-thirties now, Jeannie calculated. As she looked around, everything so tidy and in its place, Jeannie felt a stab of pity.
It was too tidy. Immaculate – and childless.

‘I’ll mek you a cup of tea, Mam, but I’m ever so sorry, I’ve got to go out at eleven. I’ve got mesen this little part-time job in Yorks in Main Street.’ It
was the major department store in the street, the shop where George Lawrence had bought Jeannie the coat all those years ago.

Jeannie nodded. ‘That’s nice, hen. It’s a beautiful shop.’

‘It’s only part time.’ The young woman giggled. ‘I wouldn’t want owt to interfere with the times Joe’s at home, y’know. But it’s nice to have
summat to do when he’s not here. A little bit extra money’s handy and it keeps me out of mischief.’

Jeannie made no comment but the two women exchanged a smile.

‘Don’t let me keep you then.’

‘No, no, it’s nice to see you. I’ve half an hour. I’m all ready except for putting me coat on. Sit down, Mam, do. I’ll get the kettle on.’

Thelma bustled about, lay a tray with a dainty cloth and reached for delicate china from a cupboard. Jeannie could scarcely believe her eyes. The change in the girl was incredible. She wondered
if there was more to it. Surely, oh surely not. Had Thelma got another man whilst Joe was away? Then firmly, she shook herself. I’m getting as bad as Tom in my suspicions, she told herself
sharply.

Thelma sat down at the table and poured the tea. ‘Do you know, Mam, I’ll always be grateful for what you did for me that time. You brought me to me senses. I love Joe and he’s
a good man. A bit moody at times, maybe, and he gets jealous . . .’ She pulled a face. ‘Even when there’s no need.’

Jeannie knew at once that her fleeting fear had been groundless. She smiled. ‘Dinna let’s talk about that any more, hen. It’s forgotten.’

‘Well, I just wanted you to know, that’s all. I am grateful, really I am.’ Thelma sighed. ‘I just wish Joe would see sense and mek friends with you again. He’s
missing so much, but he’s so stubborn. Mind you,’ she added, and there was a more hopeful note in her tone. ‘I reckon he’s coming round to his little brother. And Sammy
thinks the world of young Angus, y’know?’

Jeannie’s eyes widened and she felt her heart thumping and she could not prevent the tremble in her voice as she said, ‘Does he? Does he really?’

Thelma nodded. ‘I reckon Joe’ll come round, given time. He just doesn’t want to admit it, y’know.’

Jeannie smiled, remembering the fights between Joe and Sammy and then the sudden switch to brotherly, or rather cousinly, affection. Maybe Joe was feeling the same towards Angus. He just
couldn’t decide exactly what he did feel towards his half-brother.

‘I just wish I knew what was happening out there,’ Jeannie murmured, sipping her tea. ‘I just wish I was with them all.’

Thelma laughed. ‘Oh, you’re best out the way, Mam. The Arctic Circle in a force ten is no place for you an’ me.’

Despite the warm cosiness of the room and the hot tea she was drinking, Jeannie shuddered.

As they sailed northwards, Robert pointed out the hazy outline of hills on the port side. ‘That, Angus, is Scotland. Somewhere over there is the Fife coast where your
mother was born.’ He paused and murmured more to himself than to the boy, ‘I’ve been promising to take her back for a visit.’

‘We’ll take her when we get back,’ Angus shouted above the throb of the diesel engines beneath his feet. ‘She’d like that.’

The ship passed between the Orkneys and the Shetlands and on past the Faeroes towards Iceland.

As they neared the fishing grounds, Robert went up on deck. He thought he had never seen such a beautiful sight in the whole of his life. For a moment, he wished Jeannie were standing beside
him, seeing what he was seeing.

‘It’s a rare sight, ain’t it?’ Sammy said at his elbow. Without taking his gaze away, Robert murmured, ‘It certainly is. I wouldn’t have missed seeing this
for the world.’

They were silent, standing together, watching the small pack ice drift by as the ship nosed her way carefully further and further northwards. The sea was calm, sparkling in the spring sunlight
and already sea-birds circled above their heads waiting for easy picking when the fishing began.

‘It all looks so – so untouched,’ Robert murmured. ‘As if no one’s ever been here before us. Just look at the blue of the sea and the sky and the whiteness of the
ice. It’s magnificent. Oh, I’m glad I came – if only for this.’

‘It’s certainly picture-postcard scenery when it’s like this. But get a freezing force ten blow and it’s a fearsome place. Mind you,’ Sammy nodded towards the
bridge, ‘I don’t know how far north he’s planning to go this time. Sometimes he . . .’ Sammy stopped suddenly and glanced at Robert in embarrassment.

‘It’s all right. I’m not on board as The Boss, Sammy,’ Robert said quietly. ‘Anything you say goes no further.’

‘Well, sometimes he goes right to the edge of the ice field, y’know. Fish are often plentiful there.’

More confident now, Sammy grinned impishly, puncturing Robert’s romantic image of the magnificent scenery all around him and bringing him back to stark reality.

‘You’ll be sick of the sight of ice before we’ve done and so will Angus. He’s been down in the ice-room all morning, breaking it up ready for our first trawl. But
we’ve let him up on deck for a bit now, though.’ Sammy pointed to where Angus stood on the fo’c’sle, eagerly scanning the horizon. ‘He can’t wait to get started,
can he? But he shouldn’t have much longer to wait now.’

‘Are we nearly there, then?’ Robert asked.

Sammy nodded towards where Joe stood in the wheel-house, a pair of binoculars to his eyes. ‘He’s got Sparks listening in to the radio to see if he can track the other
ships.’

Robert glanced around him, the blue water stretching emptily as far as he could see. ‘I don’t see any others.’

‘You will,’ Sammy said, confidently. ‘Sparks’ll find ’em. Good lad is our Sparks. He listens in to all the radio conversations. He’s even picked up a
smattering of German and can listen into them, an’ all. And he’s fathomed out some of the others’ codes. Them that don’t change their codes regular like we do. Mind you,
Skipper won’t join the other ships. He hates bein’ in a crowd. But he uses them as a marker, y’know. He’s a good skipper, is Joe, and a lucky one. He seems to have an
instinct for where the fish are. It’s usually us the other ships follow.’ Sammy glanced sideways at Robert. ‘Course he shares the info with the other Gorton boats . . .’ He
paused almost waiting to see if Robert would refute his words. Robert managed to keep his face straight, though inwardly he was thinking, pull the other one, Sammy.

The Gorton fleet used a system of codes which their skippers could use to help each other find the good grounds, but Robert knew from overhearing the other skippers as they came ashore that Joe
Lawrence was a loner. Rather than fish in a crowded area, he would deliberately steam off and trawl in waters ignored by the other skippers. More often than not it paid off. As Sammy said, Joe was
a ‘lucky’ skipper. But sometimes the gamble failed and Joe had a poor haul.

But now, as they neared the grounds, Sammy was full of confidence. ‘If we get a good catch,’ he was saying, ‘Skipper has everyone on deck. All except the cook. He even has
Sparks boiling the livers. So get yer gutting knife ready, he’ll mebbe not let you stay warm an’ cosy in the galley.’

Robert’s expression must have been comical for Sammy laughed and slapped his shoulder just as Angus came running along the deck, sure footed as a goat on a slippery mountain side.
‘There’s a ship to the north west. Have you seen it?’

Sammy glanced around and squinted in the direction the boy was pointing. ‘Where? I can’t see. By heck, lad, your eyes must be sharp. Away and tell the skipper. I don’t reckon
he’s spotted it, even with his glasses.’

Robert watched as Angus climbed the ladder to bridge. He saw Joe turn briefly as the boy stepped inside the wheelhouse. Then Angus was pointing and Joe was putting the binoculars to his eyes
once more and training them in the direction the boy pointed. The two watching from the deck saw him search the skyline for a few moments and then, dropping the binoculars momentarily, he gave the
lad a brief nod and a quick smile and then his attention was once more on the trawler on the horizon.

Angus left the wheelhouse and clambered down the ladder. ‘He ses he can see several ships. We’re there, Dad, we’re there.’

‘Right then,’ Sammy said. ‘There’s work to be done. ‘You come with me, Angus. I’ve a job for you.’

Happily, the boy trotted after his cousin.

Robert watched them go. It was the longest conversation he could remember having with Sammy, he thought, and certainly the friendliest. If only they could carry this camaraderie back to shore,
back to Jeannie, how happy she would be.

And work there was in plenty. From the moment they reached the fishing grounds and Joe turned his ship port-side to the wind to shoot the first trawl over the starboard side,
Robert lost all account of time and only the cook seemed to keep a tally of whether he should be serving breakfast, dinner, tea or supper.

‘You go up on deck whenever you want, Rob,’ Ted said. ‘I know you want to keep an eye on that lad of yours.’

‘You sure, Ted? I’m supposed to be helping you.’

The man grinned, showing a broken front tooth. ‘Yer more of a hindrance than a help down here, but I’ll give you a shout if I need a hand.’

So Robert was able to watch as they shot the first trawl. When the shout went up, ‘Pay away’, over the side went the net, bobbins, trawl doors and lastly several hundred feet of
three-inch steel cable. As the net sank below the surface to the bottom of the sea, Joe turned the vessel in the direction he had chosen to fish. For the next three hours the ship would trawl at a
steady four knots.

Angus was beside him. ‘Sammy ses I’m to get summat to eat and some kip, ’cos once the first haul comes up, we’re going to be busy.’

Robert smiled at his son. ‘Then I’d better go below and see if I can be of any help to Ted if it’s “grub up” time.’