meal, which was ship’s biscuits and a generous helping of salt beef boiled to a stew, they were all in splendid humour. None of them was on watch so they had the afternoon to themselves and could do as they pleased. Some took a needle and thread from their ditty bags and sewed ribbons into the seams of their shirts and trousers, some used the time to smoke a pipe or chew a wad of tobacco, and a group from Jem’s mess gathered round the ship’s story-teller for a yarn and were soon chuckling and laughing. But Jem sat apart and watched. He needed to get his thoughts into some sort of order and it was the first time since he’d come aboard that he’d had the leisure to do it.
He couldn’t understand how all this had come about. Nobody joined the navy on their wedding day. It was unheard of and it didn’t make sense, especially to him, for he’d got himself a good job and a room to live in and he’d made all the furniture for it. He was set up. But he knew he must have signed papers and been enlisted or he wouldn’t have been brought aboard and be sailing into a sea fight now – if that was what they were doing. He was sure Tom Kettle was at the back of it even though he had no recollection of anything between being plied with rum in The Dolphin and the moment when he was woken, tight as a tick and drenched with water. He struggled to remember more until his brain was aching and in the end he gave up. It was no good thinking. He was here, he had food in his belly and a job to do, and he’d be paid at the end of it, royally so Tom Kettle had said. He did remember that. In any case, he could hardly walk away from it and swim home, even if he wanted to. As the yarn went on and the laughter grew more raucous, his thoughts became more and more muddled and, after a while, he found himself wondering what would become of Marianne without a husband to support her and pay the rent. She’d treated him very badly, there was no doubt about that, but he couldn’t help feeling responsible for her. When all was said and done she was his wife, no matter how badly she’d behaved. She’ll go home to her father I daresay, he thought, trying to ease his conscience. She’ll be looked after there. And for a moment he pictured her, sitting by the fire in that crowded kitchen, helping her mother with the mending, the way he’d seen her when he first came visiting, that thick hair escaping from her cap, her face scowling with concentration, her hands busy.
In fact, that thick hair was swinging behind her in a long fat plait, and her hands were as busy as they’d ever been, but she wasn’t sewing and she wasn’t scowling, she was climbing the rigging of His Majesty’s Ship Amphion , buffeted by the wind so far aloft, soaked by a brief shower of rain and enjoying it hugely. The Amphion had lain at anchor in St Helen’s for the last twenty-four hours waiting for Admiral Lord Nelson to make some decision or other, and now the decision had been made and theywere under sailing orders and Marianne had been sent aloft with the other boys to unfurl the mainsail. If she looked down she could see the captain on the quarter-deck looking very grand in his splendid uniform with his epaulettes glinting like stars. And there was the Victory with Admiral Nelson’s flag flying from the mainmast. This is more like it, she thought. Now we can sail off to the nearest port and I can start my search.
A strong north wind blew them south into the Channel; there were several more squalls of rain; the distant coast looked grey and foreign and, for a day at the end of May, it was unseasonably cold. She was quite glad when eight bells sounded and it was time for a bit of warming grub, which was peas and plum duff and very tasty, although the grog still made her head spin.
‘En’t got yer sea-legs yet, have ’ee my hearty?’ Johnny Galley said, as she staggered from the table.
‘Never mind legs, Johnny Galley,’ she told him. ‘’Tis your
He couldn’t understand how all this had come about. Nobody joined the navy on their wedding day. It was unheard of and it didn’t make sense, especially to him, for he’d got himself a good job and a room to live in and he’d made all the furniture for it. He was set up. But he knew he must have signed papers and been enlisted or he wouldn’t have been brought aboard and be sailing into a sea fight now – if that was what they were doing. He was sure Tom Kettle was at the back of it even though he had no recollection of anything between being plied with rum in The Dolphin and the moment when he was woken, tight as a tick and drenched with water. He struggled to remember more until his brain was aching and in the end he gave up. It was no good thinking. He was here, he had food in his belly and a job to do, and he’d be paid at the end of it, royally so Tom Kettle had said. He did remember that. In any case, he could hardly walk away from it and swim home, even if he wanted to. As the yarn went on and the laughter grew more raucous, his thoughts became more and more muddled and, after a while, he found himself wondering what would become of Marianne without a husband to support her and pay the rent. She’d treated him very badly, there was no doubt about that, but he couldn’t help feeling responsible for her. When all was said and done she was his wife, no matter how badly she’d behaved. She’ll go home to her father I daresay, he thought, trying to ease his conscience. She’ll be looked after there. And for a moment he pictured her, sitting by the fire in that crowded kitchen, helping her mother with the mending, the way he’d seen her when he first came visiting, that thick hair escaping from her cap, her face scowling with concentration, her hands busy.
In fact, that thick hair was swinging behind her in a long fat plait, and her hands were as busy as they’d ever been, but she wasn’t sewing and she wasn’t scowling, she was climbing the rigging of His Majesty’s Ship Amphion , buffeted by the wind so far aloft, soaked by a brief shower of rain and enjoying it hugely. The Amphion had lain at anchor in St Helen’s for the last twenty-four hours waiting for Admiral Lord Nelson to make some decision or other, and now the decision had been made and theywere under sailing orders and Marianne had been sent aloft with the other boys to unfurl the mainsail. If she looked down she could see the captain on the quarter-deck looking very grand in his splendid uniform with his epaulettes glinting like stars. And there was the Victory with Admiral Nelson’s flag flying from the mainmast. This is more like it, she thought. Now we can sail off to the nearest port and I can start my search.
A strong north wind blew them south into the Channel; there were several more squalls of rain; the distant coast looked grey and foreign and, for a day at the end of May, it was unseasonably cold. She was quite glad when eight bells sounded and it was time for a bit of warming grub, which was peas and plum duff and very tasty, although the grog still made her head spin.
‘En’t got yer sea-legs yet, have ’ee my hearty?’ Johnny Galley said, as she staggered from the table.
‘Never mind legs, Johnny Galley,’ she told him. ‘’Tis your
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