With every passing day the water dropped further, until the last of it was swept out of our yard and everything began to dry out. There were changes – little ones at first, like putting chairs back in different places or deciding the kitchen was better without rush matting on the floor. Abigail climbed the church roof and took in the prayer books. Those crispy, crinkled pages would serve as a reminder, people said, of things mankind couldn’t control.
Then new people moved in to Old Margaret’s cottage. They were a family called the Fitzpatricks, whose home on the outskirts of town had been flattened by the flood. There were ten of them, a mother and father and eight children. Overnight our little hamlet doubled in size. Jem wasn’t the only young man any more, which I think made him relieved. It also gave Abigail something new to gossip about, although judging by her daft behaviour around the Fitzpatricks’ eldest son, Tom, the talk would soon be about her.
*
On the first Tuesday of Lent, we took Blaze and as many ropes as we could muster to Withy Cove. It was a bright, breezy day, the snowdrops going over and primroses beginning to take their place. The time I’d taken to rest and recover had only strengthened my desire to go to sea. Now, at last, that day had arrived and I’d made up my mind. If Maira would have me, I was going. My family and friends still weren’t overly keen, but they were kind enough not to stand in my way.
In the sack over my shoulder was my one clean shirt, a small pebble from our beach, and Mother’s lucky little parcel. Jem was on one side of me, whistling. On the other, Susannah and Bea. I felt, in that moment, complete.
An awful lot had happened since I’d last seen the Songbird. The sight of it, lying on its side in the meadow, made me feel a bit overwhelmed.
‘That’s a small boat,’ Jem muttered to me. ‘You’re not really crossing the ocean in it, are you?’
I was thinking the same. In my mind’s eye the Songbird had been a decent-sized vessel, but in reality, it was little more than a fishing rig.
‘There’s plenty of space on board,’ I replied, not wanting him to see I was worried.
*
With the help of Maira and her crew, we tied Blaze to the boat. She had the look of a horse who’d really rather be eating grass. But on the count of three, Susannah clicked her tongue and led her forward, while the rest of us pushed from the back.
It was a bumpy, stop-start sort of journey. A couple of ropes came undone, and when the ground got wetter nearer the sea, we had to tie sacks to Blaze’s feet so she could get proper purchase on the grass. In less than an hour, we hit the shingle of the cove. Another almighty heave, a bit of splashing and snorting from Blaze, and the boat slipped into the water. A huge cheer went up.
‘That’s the girl!’ Susannah cried, clapping Blaze’s sweaty neck with pride.
All too quickly, Maira’s crew climbed on board, readying themselves for the journey ahead. There was a deck to clean, supplies to check, maps to read. And I knew that if I was joining them, now was the time to say my goodbyes.
Mother, who was already brimming with tears, said she’d go on home with Abigail and Blaze. As we parted, she held my face between her hands.
‘Do better than your father did,’ she said. ‘Make sure you come back to us.’
‘I will,’ I promised. ‘I’ll bring home a purse this time, and all.’
Then it was Abigail’s turn.
‘Sorry for not always understanding you and your clothes,’ she said, looking surprisingly contrite.
I shrugged, smiled. Most of what I’d worn these past weeks had belonged to someone else.
‘I mean it, Fortune,’ she said, with force. ‘People have tried to crush you and make you into a person that you’re not. You’ve stayed true to who you want to be, and that takes courage.’
I glanced down at my leggings and boots. If I’d looked at her I’d have started crying.
With just Jem, Susannah and Bea remaining now, we all went down to the water’s edge. Maira was on deck, checking what seemed to be a map as two of the crew unfurled the boat’s mainsail – actually, I noticed now, its only sail.
‘Don’t say a word,’ I muttered to Jem.
From up on deck, Pepper was waving to us. ‘Come up! All of you! Come and have a look!’
Flint and Pepper heaved me on to the boat. Before he could object, they did the same with Jem, despite him muttering that he wasn’t staying.
‘Any room for us?’ Susannah asked.
Within moments, they were on board too. Pepper, taking Bea from Susannah, started showing her the ropes and mast like she was his favourite little sister.
‘She can walk now,’ Susannah told him, ‘though she’ll need to hold your hand.’
Soon little Bea was stomping up and down like she owned the place, though it wasn’t a big deck. Ropes and buckets lay heaped at its edges, and with all of us on board, there was no denying how crowded it was.
‘Well.’ Maira, tipping back her cap, eyed me up and down with a smile. ‘Someone’s looking recovered.’
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my excitement. ‘I am.’
She patted the top of my arm, just once. ‘And the caul?’
‘In my bag with my things.’
‘Good. Keep it safe. Keep us safe.’
‘Where are we headed?’ I asked.
She pointed straight out over the water. ‘There, to start with.’
We’d been so busy this last hour, I’d barely looked up long enough to notice the other vessel moored just outside of the bay. It was huge, easily one hundred feet long, with three masts and a beautiful wooden hull. Already there were crew on board, climbing the rigging, scrubbing the decks, though from this distance they were as small as ants.
‘Goodness!’ I breathed. ‘That’s our ship?’
‘Indeed,’ Maira replied, matter-of-fact. ‘The Pride of Bristol. She’s taking us and a hull full of grain to Jamaica.’
I’d never been to Bristol, let alone this place called Jamaica. Just the name sounded magical, like silver trickling off Maira’s tongue. There was so much I wanted to ask, but I swallowed my questions because Flint was raising our anchor.
‘You’d better go if you’re going,’ I said to Jem, a lump already in my throat.
Yet he was struggling to peel his eyes away from the big ship.
‘You’re welcome to join us, Jem. We’re always in need of trustworthy crew,’ Maira offered.
He glanced at me, at Susannah and at Bea, who was refusing to let go of Pepper’s hand.
‘She wants to stay!’ Susannah laughed.
‘Well, we could, if Maira meant what she said about having work to offer us,’ Jem replied.
Susannah, catching the seriousness of his tone, stopped laughing.
‘Could we?’ she said, her eyes wide. ‘Oh, Maira, could we?’
Maira hesitated. For a moment, I was sure she was going to say no. But I think she saw the strength in Susannah. Here was someone who wasn’t just courageous and clever, but had heart enough to love her baby sister. And, so it seemed, my brother Jem.
‘I must be mad,’ Maira said, laughing, shaking her head. ‘I must be truly mad.’
*
Late afternoon we set sail for Jamaica. ‘The breeze was a gentle southerly, the sea calm, visibility good.’ These were the words Maira read aloud to us from her logbook: to me they sounded like a spell.
As we travelled down the Bristol Channel we passed the little brown-sand beach of Fair Maidens Lane. To think of all the days I’d stood on that shore, wishing for something I couldn’t even name. On the hillside above, a small herd of recently purchased cows were grazing, and further inland someone’s laundry lay spread over bushes to dry in the sun. We watched it all go by and yet it didn’t feel like I was saying farewell to somewhere dear, because I’d finally found where I belonged.
*
Another wonderful thing happened later that day, as we passed the North Devon coast. It was dusk and the sun was melting colours into the sea. To our left, high up on the clifftop a great bonfire blazed. There were bright-patterned tents pitched in a ring around it, and as the breeze blew it carried music and voices out across the water. Drawn to the sounds, we rested our elbows on the side of the ship to listen.
‘It’s a festival, isn’t it?’ Jem asked.
‘Think so,’ I said.
Bea, who’d been dozing on Susannah’s hip, suddenly threw her arms in the air and giggled.
‘What’s she seen?’ Susannah wondered.
‘Something on the shore, look!’ I replied, and we all followed her gaze back to the ring of tents high up on the cliff.
In amongst the browns and greys of people in the crowd were odd spots of red, yellow, green – the costumes, I supposed, of the performers. One in particular caught my eye. A young man, by the looks of him, small and agile, wearing a bold purple and white striped tunic. The crowd were standing back to give him space. And no wonder. He was doing the best somersaults I’d ever witnessed.
‘Can you see him?’ Jem clapped his hands in delight. ‘He’s brilliant!’
‘He is,’ Susannah murmured, a smile spreading across her face. ‘He really is.’
Bea, arms flung wide, kept laughing.
I didn’t take my eyes off the acrobat. Even this far away, I knew in my bones that it was Ellis.
Quicker than any of us would’ve liked, we left the festival behind. I fell quiet and thoughtful, then, staring out over the molten-red water as the sun sank lower in the sky. Back at home, Mother and Abigail would be shutting up the chickens and bringing in the laundry. Or maybe my sister had wrapped up a slice of leftover pie and taken it round to Tom Fitzpatrick.
Times were changing. Life was changing.
Yet, it was us that were different now, not the sea. It was as it always was – cold, salty-sharp, tingling with possibilities. It didn’t hate or judge or hunt down what it was scared of.
It simply was.
We’d travelled so far these past months, and another journey was just beginning. The stars were in the evening sky. Our ship sailed onwards.