Stromness, Orkney Islands. May 1750.
“Where do you think you are going?” Stuart asked.
Thomas stood beside Nellie. “I am going into town.”
“Not today. The barn needs cleaning.”
“But I want to watch for the ships. They might land today.”
“Then they will land without you because you are cleaning the barn.”
“Why cannot Harry or Bruce do it?”
“They are out planting.”
Thomas angrily turned Nellie loose in the pasture then went into the house to change into his work clothes. In the barn, he grabbed the fork from the corner and began throwing the dirty straw and manure from the first stall out into the center aisle. His anger increased with each fork full. The Hudson’s Bay Company supply ships usually arrived in Stromness towards the end of May. Since the middle of the month he had been doing his chores then riding Nellie into town to meet with John. Together they would climb the slight hill behind the town and watch out over the water for the first glimpse of a sail. When they tired of that, they headed for the pier and sat on the end talking about their future.
Because of Stuart he would be late, and he just knew today would be the day the ships docked. He would give anything to be on the boat right now, sailing for Rupert’s Land, leaving this farm work behind.
When the first stall was clean, he went to the second. After the third, he paused and wiped his forehead. It was hot work and he was thirsty, but he refused to stop. He wanted to get to town. When the floor of each stall was bare he went for the wheelbarrow. He forked the straw from the high center pile into the wheelbarrow and pushed it out behind the barn where he dumped it onto the mound made from past cleaning. This would eventually be used as fertilizer on the garden and fields.
“Lunch is ready,” his mother called from the house.
Noon already? Thomas shook his head at her. He had to get this done. He worked faster. Once the barn was clean, Thomas loaded the wheelbarrow with fresh straw from the stack near the pasture. He dumped it in the center of the first stall and went for another load which he kicked into the corners. The dust from the straw settled on his head, face, and clothes, causing him to itch all over. His thirst increased. He threw the fork down and stomped out to the well. He dropped the bucket down to the water and let it sink. When it was full, he hauled it back up by the rope attached to the handle. He drank some water and poured the rest over his head.
From the well he could see the field where Harry and Bruce were planting potatoes. Harry walked behind the plow horse making a furrow while Bruce dropped the pieces of cut potato in the row. Having done the same for as many years as he could remember, Thomas was again thankful he was going to the bay. He could not see himself being a farmer all his life. With renewed vigor he hurried back to the barn.
It was mid-afternoon when he finished, and though he was tired, he changed into his town clothes. He rode Nellie first to the dock, which he was both relieved and disappointed to see was empty, then to John’s place.
“Where have you been?” John asked.
“I had to clean the barn.”
“Oh.”
“I will be glad when I am out of here and Stuart cannot boss me around anymore.”
“Let us go up the hill,” John suggested.
They walked along the street that soon ended at the base of the hill, and then followed the path to the top. They had just sat down when John pointed to the ocean.
“I see it,” he yelled. “I see it.”
They both jumped up and stared at the tall masts and white sails they could see in the distance. They were in sharp contrast to the blue sky and water. Thomas and John watched as the ship drew closer.
The town cannon sounded, announcing the arrival of the first Hudson’s Bay Company supply ship. They both ran down the hill and through the town to the dock where the huge, square rigger had entered the harbor. A crowd of townspeople had already gathered. The sailors could be seen up on the foot rope furling the sails to ensure the winds did not catch the ship and tear her loose once she was docked.
“I can see Master Givens,” John said, waving his arms at the silver-haired man leaning over the bulwark. “This is our ship, the one we are sailing on.”
They watched as Master Givens signaled for the men to throw out the mooring lines which some of the townsmen caught and fastened. The sailors descended the masts and disappeared from sight, but their footsteps could be heard as they rushed to get ready to disembark.
Thomas and John stared in awe at the ship. While they had seen others like this in past years, this one had special meaning. It was the one that was taking them to the New World. The boys waited for Master Givens as they had done for many years. Master Givens was a friend of John’s late father. He always stopped in to see John’s mother, and John and Thomas usually greeted him when the ship docked.
Thomas heard Master Givens give the signal to his first mate to lower the gang plank. Givens descended to the dock, his men walking behind. Some of the sailors were greeted by young women they had met on the last voyage while others headed off the dock into town.
“Hello John, Thomas,” Master Givens said.
“We are going with you,” John blurted out. “We have been picked to go to York Factory.”
Thomas could see the look of dismay on Givens’ face. “Your mother is letting you?” Givens asked
“Yes.”
Thomas and John exchanged glances as Givens muttered. “I told her not to.”
“Do you not want me to go?” John asked, a quiver in his voice.
“It is not the place you think it is.” Givens strode away.
“But Mother says it is the best place for me,” John said, hurrying to keep up with Givens. “She says I have no future here.”
Thomas followed behind, suddenly fearful that John would not be going with him. And if John did not go, who would he have for company?
The boys followed Givens into Isbister’s Store. They stood beside the counter, their mood subdued, while Givens conducted his business.
“Ah, good day, Master Givens.” Simon Isbister greeted him from behind his counter. “A few days late this year.”
“Bad weather,” Givens responded. “Twice we had to pull into a bay to wait out a storm.”
“It has been particularly blowy here too this spring,” Simon agreed. “Although we have had some hot days.”
Givens pulled out his list and handed it to Simon. “These are the supplies I need, and my men will be around tomorrow to begin picking them up.”
Simon looked at the list and nodded.
From Isbister’s Store, Givens walked to see Anderson. The boys trailed behind.
“Afternoon, Givens,” Anderson said, when the master entered his office. “How was the sail?”
“Stormy. The other two ships had to stop for repairs and will be here later this week. What do you have for me?”
Anderson picked up a sheet of paper.
“Here are the names of all the boys who wanted to go to the bay this year,” he said, showing Givens the list. “There are not as many as in past years. I have picked out the eight who will sail with you.”
Anderson handed him another sheet with eight names.
“Are they all in town, or nearby?”
“Yes, I gave them their usual physical and asked them if they were sure they wanted to go.”
“Do you have a replacement if one of them does not go?”
Thomas cringed as he looked over at John who was standing with his head bowed.
“Oh, yes,” Anderson grinned. “A couple of the boys from distant villages have come to see me this week. They were turned down, but said they are staying with relatives and would be ready in an hour if given the signal.”
“I will be back at the square at eight o’clock tonight to meet the boys,” Givens said.
“They will be there.”
“I am just going to have a drink at the well, and then I will be seeing your mother,” Givens said to John, as they stepped out onto the street.
Givens, with his two shadows, walked to the granite quays and drew some water from Login’s Well. He drank deeply.
“I never tire of this water,” he said.
Thomas knew it was the first fresh water he had had since leaving London. This was also a main reason the ships of the Company stopped at the islands. It was their last chance to stock up on fresh water before sailing across the Atlantic Ocean.
Givens knocked on the wooden door of John’s house then lifted the latch. Thomas hesitated, unsure about entering behind his friend. There was going to be a discussion and it was none of his business. He walked over to Nellie and rubbed her nose.
“Come on.” John beckoned from the doorway.
“I think I should go home,”
“No,” John wailed. “You have to come in. I need you on my side.”
Thomas stood just inside the door. John’s mother was bent over the large, black kettle hanging in the fireplace. He could smell the stew as she stirred the contents, then pushed the kettle back over the fire. She turned, a smile on her lips. It faded as she looked from face to face.
“What is the matter?” she asked.
“Why are you letting John go to the bay?” Givens demanded. “I thought we had agreed he would not.”
“No, you agreed he would not.” She took a step towards John and put her arm around him.
Givens shook his head. “And you know why. It is a hard, lonely life. Men go crazy there. Some even kill, or commit suicide.” He paused and looked at John. “I know I am not his real father, but I have known him since he was small and even though we only see each other for a few days once a year, I think we have developed a relationship of sorts. I like him and I do not want to see him in the new land.”
“Just because you did not like it, there is no reason why you should stop him from trying it. Times have changed.”
“When the forts were first built in the 1670s the men lived in little posts and traded guns, powder, kettles, and other items, to the Indians for beaver furs. They still do the same today. The only change is the posts are larger and much better built.”
“It is John’s only way of getting ahead,” Martha argued. “And you know when I did not let him sign on as a cabin boy on a sailing ship three years ago that I promised he could join the Company when he turned fifteen. It was my way of making sure he does not die at sea like his father.”
“And Thomas is going,” John interrupted.
“It is not an easy life over there,” Givens insisted.
“From the stories you have told me, it is a better one than being a sailor. Besides, I can give him nothing. He has no future here. At least he will have a job, a roof over his head, and some money with which to buy some land when he comes back.”
“If he comes back,” Givens said.
“What makes you say that?” Martha asked.
“You know as well as I do that many of the boys who go over there stay with the Company for years, or head someplace else with their money, or even die. You might never see John again.”
“Oh yes, I will,” Martha said. She hugged John closer to her. “He has promised to write me, and he will come back here when he is finished his service.”
John ducked out of her embrace not acknowledging her words. He went to stand beside Thomas.
“I hope so,” Givens said. After a few moments of silence he continued. “I guess I am just as worried about you as I am about John. But you will still have Sandra with you.”
“Sandra went to London to work last fall.”
“She did? What are you going to do with both children gone?”
“I do not know. I guess I will just keep on living as best I can.”
“Why do you not stay and marry her?” John asked.
Thomas elbowed him in the ribs as Martha exclaimed. “John. That is not something for you to say.” Her face was red as she glanced at Givens.
“Why not? If he is so worried about you, he should stay and look after you. After all he has been visiting you every year for nine years. That is a very long courtship.”
Givens turned to John. “I have my reasons for not marrying your mother.”
“Oh, and what are they?” John challenged.
Thomas held his breath. Why was John provoking Master Givens? Why did he not just keep quiet, especially when it looked as if his mother had won the argument?
Givens looked down at his hands. “I have other people to think about.”
“Another family?”
There was a pause. “Yes.”
Thomas saw Martha’s face fall. From what John had said over the years she kept hoping Givens would leave the Company one day and stay with her. But now she knew he would not.
“I have to go,” Thomas said wishing, as he slipped out the door, that he had left earlier.