Ocean Meets Sky
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It took a while to convince the ship’s surgeon that I had no intention of taking him as my first officer. The moment when we shook hands for the last time was an uneasy one, not least because his fingers were so cold and slippery. He said it was the weather; then he went back inside the sickbay where he could keep warm with his patients and I went into my cabin to write up a log entry.
I had been at sea for six days since leaving Portsmouth in early February. My crew was exhausted, but they were happy to be alive and well again after our ordeal. The men had all survived, and I had kept them fed and warm on nothing more than their own strength and will.
For myself, I would never have made it through without my captain, my second, my quartermaster, and the rest of my officers: good old John Bannister had been worth every penny of his three hundred guineas. And if I ever found myself in such trouble again, then I was determined to make sure there was no room for argument or compromise with my future captains.
No matter what the cost – even the loss of a limb – I would ensure that I had the best available people by me at all times.
I knew this because of something I had witnessed earlier today. I’d just finished writing out the log when I heard raised voices from outside my door. It was Mr. M’Call and two other midshipmen, Tom and Harry.
They stood on either side of the door and spoke quietly so they couldn’t be overheard by anyone who happened to walk past my cabin door. They were arguing about something. It wasn’t until I heard Tom say ‘I’ve told you already!’ that I realized they were discussing whether or not I should appoint Mr. M’Call as my first mate.
When I looked up at the doorway and saw both boys staring back at me, I was stunned into silence for several seconds. Both of them were very tall for young men; Tom especially had the look of an athlete. His eyes were piercing blue and his hair fell to his shoulders like a mane.
His nose was straight and small for such a big boy, but then his mouth was large and sensual. He wore the same black coat that I remembered so well, along with the red waistcoat and cravat he’d had when he came on board.
But what struck me most was how different he seemed to be to the lad who’d first come aboard my ship – so timid and fearful, always looking over his shoulder, afraid to speak unless spoken to first. That was gone now.
‘You can go,’ I said, once my brain had caught up with the situation. It was hard to think of any reason why I shouldn’t have asked Tom as my first mate; I trusted him implicitly and he seemed to know all that there was to know about navigating a vessel in rough seas.
‘We’re waiting for your permission to enter, sir.’
‘What? No, it’s fine. Go ahead.’ I tried to hide my surprise. It felt wrong somehow, not to let them see me standing there with my hand on the doorknob, watching them pass by and step inside.
They sat down, looking slightly embarrassed.
‘Well?’ I said. ‘Out with it.’
Tom cleared his throat. ‘If you’ll allow us to, sir…we wanted to ask whether we might be considered for a post here. As midshipmen perhaps. We’ve both been on long voyages before…’
‘Midshipman? Is that what you want?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Tom replied. Then he lowered his head and looked at the deck. ‘Sorry to have troubled you.’
‘Not at all, Tom. You don’t need to apologize. What did you say to each other in the passage between the two cabins?’
He looked up at me with wide eyes, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. ‘We were discussing you, sir. In private.’
‘And what were you saying?’
‘That you seem like a fair man and that…that…’ He stuttered, not wanting to offend me with anything he thought might sound impolite. ‘We…we didn’t mean to say that you weren’t…a gentleman, or that you hadn’t earned what you’d got.
It’s just that it seems to us that someone like you would only employ a certain sort of person – the kind who has connections and money and who doesn’t have to work as hard as everyone else does…’
‘Oh yes?’ I leaned forward.
‘We think you’re being too generous to those fellows who saved your life,’ Tom went on. ‘We’re not against giving them jobs, but you could give some consideration to those of us who helped you, who did everything you asked of us…who gave up time with our families and friends…’
‘I did save their lives, didn’t I?’ I said softly, leaning back against my chair and letting the memory wash over me once more. I remembered what it was like to be on that wretched ship; the fear and cold, the terror of the storm, and most of all the knowledge that I would surely die unless something changed.
The moment when Mr. M’Call had taken my hand and pulled me towards safety had been like a gift from God.
Tom smiled sadly. ‘Yes, sir, but…well…you don’t even know if they deserve it yet.’
I looked at the floor in front of me and sighed. ‘Tom, you are absolutely right: I don’t know whether they deserve it or not, although I do know that it is my responsibility to try to help them. For that reason alone, they must be given a chance to prove themselves.’ I glanced up again. ‘Do you really think that you have done enough, Tom?’
‘Sir?’
‘In the last three months, you have sailed with me, you have survived storms, you have been attacked by pirates and you have escaped death many times. You have seen more of life than most men twice your age, and yet you still have no family and no prospects?’
The boy nodded eagerly. ‘Yes, sir. It makes sense that you should employ me.’
‘You may well find it a difficult place here,’ I warned him. ‘It takes a certain type of person to succeed. Do you understand?’
He grinned, then quickly wiped it away. ‘Of course, sir. I understand perfectly. Thank you very much.’
I stood up. ‘Thank you for your honesty, and for your advice. I will take it into account.’
They thanked me for the offer and I told them that I hoped to have a decision made by tomorrow morning. They left the cabin, feeling good about the outcome. I sat back down, closed my eyes, and tried to clear my mind. I had decided to trust the boys’ judgment regarding the crew, but that didn’t mean that they would be happy with me for doing so.
They would be disappointed, maybe angry; they would feel betrayed by an old friend, a friend who had never shown them his gratitude and appreciation for what they had done for him. I knew this and I also understood that it couldn’t be helped – in the end, I had to put my own needs above theirs.
It was a painful thing to admit, but it was a lesson that I had learned from my own father – something he had taught me from the day I had been born.
When they had gone, I walked across and looked out through the small porthole. The ship was now heading northeast under full sail and there wasn’t much wind: we were traveling along at a steady six knots. I could see land ahead, and felt a slight sense of anticipation as I thought about what I knew was waiting for us when we arrived.
***
The next morning, I took a long look at my remaining crew: twenty-eight men, including both Mr. M’Call and Tom. The first ten were in fact Mr. M’Call’s original crew, men he had selected from the ship that had brought them to America and whom he had kept aboard during their journey to London, where they had been given jobs as seamen aboard my own vessel.
I counted them carefully while Tom watched, his face expressionless. They stood on the quarterdeck, dressed in clean white shirts and trousers; none of them looked particularly pleased to be there, although I was confident that their feelings would soon change.
Mr. M’Call stood proudly behind them, looking proud and self-assured. His hair had grown since I’d last seen him and he wore a fresh blue waistcoat and yellow tie – all of which he had insisted on having specially made for him in a tailor’s shop in the West End of town. He had a small smile on his face.
‘I believe these men deserve better than to be working as sailors for another man,’ I said quietly. ‘For that reason, I have hired them and I hope you’ll all accept that.’ I turned my gaze to each individual man standing below me, trying to make eye contact with everyone at least once before returning to Mr. M’Call. ‘You have chosen wisely, Mr. M’Call. They are good seamen, loyal men, and worthy companions.’
‘I am sure they are,’ he replied with a nod. ‘I thank you for this opportunity.’
I returned his gesture. ‘I want you to stay with us until I’m ready to leave for the Indies, and then we’ll discuss whether you wish to return home or go on sailing with us to Australia.’
‘That sounds good to me, sir.’
‘Good,’ I said firmly. ‘Very good. We’re leaving tomorrow, so I expect you all to get yourselves ready. Mr. M’Call has already informed me that you will be staying in the captain’s cabin.’
His face fell slightly. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Well then,’ I continued after a moment of silence, ‘perhaps we can begin our work here.’
Tom nodded and stepped back to one side. He moved towards the stairs and disappeared below deck. Mr. M’Call and I stared at each other for a few moments and then he turned to head down to join Tom.
I looked up at the sails and saw that we would arrive at port within two days, depending upon the wind. I could feel it in my bones; the air had become colder and drier. There would be snow soon, maybe even ice. Winter was coming and there was nothing that could stop it.
My mind wandered back to my time on board the Golden Bough. That was the first time that I’d ever seen a winter sea. At the time, I had been a young boy. We had sailed out of London Bay and headed south, away from the cold continent that was our destination.
But as we crossed the ocean, heading west, the temperature gradually began to drop. By the end, it was bitter cold. We had no choice but to keep moving in order to keep warm. The water itself was freezing and I remember seeing icebergs floating by.
We were traveling along the coast of Labrador when an angry sea suddenly lashed against the ship, throwing us around like a leaf caught up in a storm drain. It was terrifying: I was thrown into the railings of the forecastle, which were slick and wet.
I struggled for breath while waves washed over me. I felt myself falling helplessly into the icy water and, before I could react, the ship lurched sideways, knocking me off its rails and onto the deck. I tried to move but I was frozen solid.
When I eventually managed to stand up and stagger forward, I found that I couldn’t feel my feet, only that they were there. My hands tingled uncontrollably and the ship lurched beneath me again. This time, I fell to the ground and was dragged along by the ship’s movement. I heard voices calling me but I couldn’t respond.
All I wanted was to curl up somewhere and die, but that didn’t seem to be possible: I was being pulled along, unable to resist. The next thing I knew, I was thrown overboard and I hit something hard that sent me sprawling.
And then, finally, everything went black.
It had been the most frightening experience of my life, and not just because of what had happened to me. The way the sea had come in like a monster – so quick! – filled me with panic every time I thought about it. The fact that we had all survived, even though others hadn’t… Well, it gave me comfort.
I still believed that the Creator had protected us from certain death by making that storm happen. It must have been the will of the Great Spirit.
As I walked down to where the Golden Bough was moored alongside another ship, I reflected on my journey. In my mind, it always wintered. The chill air, the darkness, the grey sky, the white landscape underfoot… Everything was dark, gloomy, and dangerous.
I shivered involuntarily, feeling the cold bite through my clothing. How long would it be before I experienced all this on board Amazon? For now, I needed to focus on the present, however difficult that might be. I had to make sure that I was ready for it.
As I approached, I saw the men working on the masts of the other ships. They looked so small compared to the towering giants of the Amazon. As they worked, their faces were hidden behind hats, goggles and scarves wrapped around their mouths and noses.
There was something different about these men – something I hadn’t noticed the last time I’d visited the Golden Bough. It wasn’t just their appearance: something seemed to have changed inside them too. Perhaps it was the way they carried themselves or perhaps it was simply a result of living on the boat for so many weeks.
Whatever the cause, they were more confident than they had been before. And I could see how important the ship was to them; it represented freedom and excitement. The men spoke quietly to each other while they worked, smiling and joking as they did so.
The Golden Bough seemed smaller now; less imposing. It was just a boat in a harbor waiting to leave for a voyage. Yet even from afar, I could see its great size; I remembered the fear I had felt when I had first climbed aboard it in England. It reminded me of a dragon, lying curled up and dreaming of new adventures.
I took a deep breath and walked closer, my heart pounding and my body trembling as if I were freezing. I had never felt so anxious in all my life.
The mooring lines snapped taut, pulling the Golden Bough tight against the ship next to it. I waited patiently until she was secured. Then I turned and looked at her, feeling a strange mix of relief and sadness. The ship wasn’t mine any longer and I would never go sailing in her again.
She was beautiful, but not in the same way that she had once been. The rigging hung limp and loose. Her decks were covered with rust and grime. She no longer looked like a vessel full of potential; instead, she looked battered and worn. I couldn’t believe that someone would want to use her. But then I realized that it wasn’t her exterior that was important: it was the spirit within.
A smile spread across my face and my shoulders relaxed. She was a survivor. Even after everything that she had seen and done, she still stood tall, proud, and dignified. There was something very special about her, and I had loved her dearly for as long as I could remember. It would be wrong to abandon her now.
‘Thank you,’ I whispered. ‘Thanks for everything.’
My feet took me away from the docks, along a path lined with wooden posts and ropes hanging off the side of the building. It led up to a small house set back off the road, which belonged to Mr. Johnson, the chief trader who had helped me so much since I arrived in Montreal.
It was an old-fashioned house, made of wood with a sloping roof; the sort of place I’d imagined a family might live during the eighteenth century. The front door creaked open as I stepped onto the porch. A tall figure appeared, blocking out some of the light. When he smiled, his face lit up like the sun itself. ‘Good morning, Miss Bennet,’ he said in French.
He came down the steps and reached out his hand to help me up. His skin was brown, like mine, although his hair was black and he wore it in a neat queue over his forehead. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a thick neck, and his eyes sparkled with life and energy.
The most striking thing about him, however, was his smile. His lips stretched wider and wider until they formed an upside-down triangle above his nose. It made him look friendly and cheerful. He was wearing a suit of blue velvet; so smart and dapper that I wondered what he would wear to work aboard a ship.
As we walked into the kitchen I saw that two young boys were sitting at the table. One of them looked exactly like him: a dark-haired boy with a large mouth and a pointed chin. On top of his head sat a cap that was almost completely covering his curly hair.
The other child was older: his eyes were bright and lively and his brown curls bounced as we entered. He wore a navy blue tunic over grey trousers. I smiled at both of them and the youngest one giggled. ‘Bonjour,’ I said.
Mr Johnson put his finger to his lips as he spoke to his wife. She turned and smiled at us as she poured tea from a pot on the stove. The room smelled warm and fresh, as though they had recently washed their clothes. As we sat down, she brought over three plates of toast with jam and marmalade on the side and a jug of steaming milk.
The eldest boy looked at his younger brother in surprise as he began to eat. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked in French.
His younger sibling frowned back at him, taking another bite of toast and smacking his lips loudly after every mouthful. ‘I don’t care if you do,’ he answered. ‘You’re going to have to wait your turn.’
‘But there’s enough for everybody.’
‘Not if you gobble everything before I’ve had time to eat!’
I laughed and looked at Mr. Johnson as I picked up the teapot. ‘Is that how you two argue?’
‘No,’ he said quickly, looking embarrassed. ‘We get on very well. In fact, it is because of the good relationship that we are able to work together so effectively.’
The woman smiled proudly as she watched us. ‘It was not always so easy,’ she told me as she ladled some cream onto my toast. ‘In fact, it has taken me many years to bring this house together. I have spent many days and nights working late into the night just to keep things running smoothly.
We had to make difficult choices when we first started out, especially because of money issues.’ She gave me a knowing look. ‘And there was nothing more expensive than keeping the children fed while their father was away at sea.’
Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke. At this point the two brothers became concerned and both began to speak at once. ‘We can help,’ they said, looking at each other with wide eyes. ‘Father will give us money. Don’t cry, Mama.’
I placed my hand on hers to stop her from answering and smiled at the little boys. They stared back at me, unsure how to respond. After a moment they nodded and smiled shyly.
The End