Tales From The Dark Past Collection

Chapter 6

En ma fin git mon commencement

En ma fin git mon commencementIn my end is my beginning

MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS

My name is Iain Cosgrove, the journal began, and I shall transcribe in these pages a faithful and true account of everything that happened in our voyage from Dundee to the Greenland Sea. At present the sealing ketch Lady Balgay is fast to an iceberg, drifting but safe somewhere off the East Coast of Greenland and I am alone in the captain"s cabin. I would wish it otherwise.

Lady BalgayAs I write this, I shall endeavour to leave nothing out and add nothing. In other words, this account will be the plain, unvarnished truth as I see it. Please remember always that I am the surgeon of this damned vessel, and have only a vague understanding of anything nautical, so if I do not write the correct terms for the various manoeuvres that we have undertaken, please forgive me.

As this journal describes my personal feelings and impressions as well as the fearful events that led to my present position, I had better begin the day before I set out to sea, the last day I was truly happy.

I do not know if this journal will ever be found, or if my fate will be forever a mystery, but I hope and pray that someday a passing ship will see the topmasts of Lady Balgay and rescue me from my plight. If that vessel comes too late, and I have already joined my comrades in the blessed peace of death, then I would be obliged if you, the reader, could forward this account onto my beloved sweetheart and wife, Jennifer Cosgrove, care of Balgay House, West Ferry, Dundee.

Lady BalgayUntil that day, or until the day of my release from this unremitting hell, I can give you only my love, Jennifer, and write this journal. I will begin with what transpired that beautiful afternoon of the 14th February 1914, while I was still on land and at your side.

"Iain!" I heard Jennifer"s voice rise in a mixture of scandal and pleasure. "We can"t act like that here. Think of the proprieties!"

"Hang the proprieties, think of us, Mrs Cosgrove." I kissed her again, laughing when she did not turn away. Her lips were soft and welcoming.

"Say that again," Jennifer eased free, smiling.

"Say what again?" I enjoyed the pleasure that crossed her face.

"You know what," Jennifer"s eyes crinkled to slits of brilliant blue. "That name."

"Oh, that name." I nodded. "The Mrs Cosgrove name."

"Yes, say it again."

Stepping back to hold her at arm"s length, I altered my tone and felt all the teasing disappear. "I love you, Mrs Cosgrove."

Jennifer smiled to me, her eyes brilliant, but there was just a twist of unease in the corner of her mouth. "Now you can kiss me," she said, "but then we must return to the house. People will talk."

"People will always talk about us," I told her solemnly, "for we are such interesting and important people." I kissed her again, pressing luxuriously on to the softness of her lips, and held her close. I could feel the twin pressure of her breasts against my chest and thrilled to think that this was my wife, now and forever. Jennifer was mine; I gloried in the idea until a voice floated from the open French Windows a few yards behind us.

"There they are! Out in the garden! Come on in and dance, you two lovebirds. There will be time enough for that sort of thing later."

"Will there?" Jennifer asked, and I adopted a sudden frown.

"Perhaps. If you behave yourself."

"Well, Mr Cosgrove, I certainly don"t intend to do that any longer!" Her throaty laugh tormented me with the promise of future passion until she took hold of my sleeve and I allowed her to lead me back inside the house.

Balgay House never failed to impress me. Built to the design of Jennifer"s father, it had stood in Dundee"s exclusive West Ferry suburb for over twenty years as a splendid example of a Jute Baron"s mansion. I had been brought up in much more modest surroundings and tried to hide my amazement at the grandeur of this palace, with its huge rooms and ornate plasterwork, its acres of garden and small army of staff to attend residents and guests. As I was now married to the daughter of the house, I knew I should be treated as a member of the family, but I could sense that the servants still resented my presence; they thought me an upstart mixing with my betters.

Well, by God, I was here now and intended to make the most of it, whatever the hired help thought. If I was good enough for Jennifer, then I expected them to bow and scrape to me just as much. I shook my head; that was a complete lie; I felt nothing of the sort. My family home had run to one maid who had been as much part of the household as I was, and had considered it her right to scold me when I was a child. I would never get used to the sheer authority of the merchant class, and mostly I did not really want to.

"Come on, slowcoach!" Jennifer pulled me into what she referred to as the great hall, which had been cleared ready for the post-marriage celebrations. A dozen musicians sat in a semi-circle, working furiously on violin and piano, bass and cymbals. The music floated like audible nectar, sweetening the air and lightening the feet as Jennifer dragged me across the floor of especially imported Burmese teak. Surrounding us with aesthetic treasure, oil paintings adorned each wall, all personally selected by Sir Melville.

Moving smoothly across the floor, dinner-jacketed men waltzed with elegant ladies whose long dresses and sparkling jewellery revealed that here was the pride of Dundee society. Ship owners and merchant barons, linen manufacturers and landowners, this magnificent room contained the men who dominated the world jute trade, whose ships crossed the seas from Murmansk to Calcutta, and who enjoyed all the ease and society that hard earned wealth had brought them.

"Iain, my boy!" Sir Melville Manson eased through the dancing crowd, his long cigar held in a languid hand but his eyes shrewd, as befitted one of the richest men in Scotland. "Welcome to the family."

"Thank you, sir," I accepted the outstretched hand and bowed out of habit. "It is good to belong."

"But you"re not here for long, though. You set sail on the first tide tomorrow, I believe?" The blue eyes narrowed in a frightening reflection of his daughter. "For the North?"

"Yes, sir." In all the excitement of the wedding I had nearly forgotten the trials that waited. "We must sail tomorrow, or we will be too late for the sealing."

"I understand," Sir Melville nodded. "Duty must come first; even before your marriage. Life can be hard sometimes."

"It is something that has to be done, sir. If I am to become the best doctor in Dundee, I must learn my trade, and where better than on a sealing ship? And in particular the sealing ship whose owner is my father in law."

"Yes, but Iain," Jennifer"s voice was disapproving, "to sail so far, so soon after the wedding and in such a small boat!"

I forced a laugh, as much for my sake as hers. "Lady Balgay is not such a small boat, Jennifer. She is a ketch, and Captain Milne is an experienced mariner; he will take care of me, don"t you fret."

Lady BalgayYou should not be going,"Jennifer objected. "After all, it is not as if we need the money. Father will willingly provide for us."

"Of that I have no doubt," I agreed, "but I must make my own way, you see. I do not wish to constantly hold out my hand for your father"s charity."

"It"s hardly charity," Jennifer began, but Sir Melville silenced her with a wave of his cheroot.

"I understand exactly what Iain means, Jennifer. In this world, a man is not really a man unless he can make his own way."

I bowed my acknowledgement of Sir Melville"s support. I was more than aware that the Manson family did not think me quite a good enough catch for their daughter, and there must have been fierce arguments before I was accepted into their midst. Knowing that I was of far inferior social standing to my wife made me even more determined to pay my own way without asking for financial help, and a voyage in a sealing vessel would provide valuable experience that any medical practise might welcome.

"It"s still a long time away from me," Jennifer"s slight pout revealed her lack of years. She was still a few weeks short of her twentieth birthday and all the lovelier for that.

"I"m lucky to have the chance," I told her frankly, "considering that I have only just qualified and my sole previous voyage was on a mere yacht."

I had fully partaken of all the joys of Edinburgh while at the university and already I missed the high jinks of student life, but Dundee was my home. It was good to be back to the forests of chimneys and the whispering, ever changing Tay. There had been Cosgroves in this city for at least three centuries, and I had every hope of continuing the line: with the co-operation of my wife, of course. She caught my sideways glance and I knew by her sudden flush that she understood exactly what I was thinking.

"Anyway," Sir Melville added, "there may not be many more opportunities to sail to the Arctic. The whaling business up there is long gone, and the sealing is virtually moribund. Lady Balgay is the last of her line." He smiled sadly. "We had to purchase her especially and change her name to something more suitable." He leaned closer. "We named her after Jennifer of course, the Lady of Balgay House."

Lady Balgay"Yes, sir." Somehow it was easier knowing that I would be sailing in a ship named after my new wife. That way we could never be far apart, even if distance separated us.

"Just imagine though, Iain," Sir Melville shook his head. "In my youth there were fifteen, sixteen, even seventeen whaling ships, huge vessels, sailing from Dundee to chase the whales, and now there is just one small ketch hunting seals. You are part of history, sailing in the last Greenlandman." Sir Melville smiled and for a moment his eyes darkened, as if he were reliving his own past life.

"Yes, sir," I tried to sound dutiful but I thought then that history should be left in the past, along with all the diseases and plagues for which we had long since found a cure. Life was about progress, not reminiscing about the good old days of cholera and foul sanitation. I was so young and naive then: I had not learned how history can turn full circle to bite horrifyingly at the present. If I had known, God, if I had known, I would never have put a foot on that terrible ship.

"But you have only the one chance, Iain," Sir Melville was still talking, "for I have no intention of having my daughter live a solitary life. Yes, it is a man"s duty to provide for his wife, but I have little time for absent husbands who spend all their life away, leaving their wives to fend for themselves at home." His wink appeared ponderous, but there was no mistaking the sincere message behind the apparent jollity. "One voyage to prove yourself and gain experience, and then it is a practice in town for you, my boy, dealing with old lady"s fainting fits, old men"s hernias and the consequences of young men"s romantic misadventures."

"Father!" Jennifer looked as scandalised as only a young newlywed bride could.

I thought it best to hide my smile. "Indeed, sir. People will be far more likely to accept me as their doctor if they knew I had practical experience."

"I am quite aware of that." For a moment Sir Melville looked testy, but his paternal smile chased away the mood. "Captain Milne is a good man, Iain. Like Lady Balgay he is the last of a long line of Dundee whalers. A splendid mariner, as long as you keep him away from the bottle." He laughed. "But that won"t be a problem. I"ve ensured that Lady Balgay is a dry ship. There is no alcohol among her stores."

Lady BalgayLady Balgay"I am pleased to hear it, sir." Growing up in Dundee, I had heard the tales of drunken Greenlandmen causing havoc among the bars of Dock Street, or under arrest in Shetland before they even entered the chilled waters of the Arctic. Their behaviour was notorious even among British seamen, a breed not renowned for sobriety and the singing of Sunday school psalms.

"So that"s one less worry, eh?" Sir Melville had a long pull at his cigar. "Now, Jennifer, I intend to rob you of your husband for five short minutes."

"Oh father, must you?" Jennifer widened her eyes and tilted her face, but Sir Melville remained unmoved.

"Come, my boy. Five minutes."

Shrugging my shoulders to Jennifer, I followed Sir Melville through the house to the gunroom, where, amidst racks of Purdey shotguns, boxes of cartridges and a selection of mounted antlers and other hunting trophies, a roll top desk gleamed beneath an electric globe. The room smelled of leather, tobacco and wet dog; I doubted if any woman had ever placed a dainty foot past the dark panelled door.

"This is between men," Sir Melville said quietly, "so not a word to Jennifer. Understand?"

"Of course, sir," I agreed, instantly intrigued.

"Good." Unlocking the drawer of his desk, Sir Melville produced a revolver, which he weighed in his hand for a quiet moment before breaking it open and handing it to me. "Take this with you, in case of unforeseen eventualities. One never knows what might happen at sea."

To say I was surprised would be to put it mildly. I took the thing and weighed it carefully; here was death packaged in functional steel. I had held a revolver before, of course, at the Officer"s Training Corps at Dundee High School but I had never expected to carry one as a man. It felt cold but quite familiar and the butt fitted nicely inside my hand.

"It"s a Webley Fosberry," Sir Melville was something of an expert in firearms, having hunted all his life.

"Yes, sir." I held the pistol before me, arm straight as I had been taught, and sighted on a pair of wildebeest antlers that hung on the far wall. It felt heavy and I could not imagine cold-bloodedly pointing it at a man and squeezing the trigger.

"It has a .45 uncoated lead bullet, so it"s got tremendous stopping power; the bullet spreads on contact. If you hit your target anywhere in his body, you are almost certain to kill him. These fancy automatic weapons…" Sir Melville shook his head. "Fine for show, but they jam at the most inconvenient moments and their light, nickel plated bullets are useless in a tight situation. The Webley will work in any conditions and will never let you down."

"Do you think I will need it?" I listened to the musical whirr as I spun the chamber, and imagined the terrible wounds a soft lead bullet could cause to a human body. Automatically I wondered how to best treat a patient with such injuries and felt sudden repugnance; I was tempted to hand the thing back. Common sense told me that it would be unwise to alienate my father- in- law so I listened to his sage advice, nodding as if interested.

"Keep it close by you," Sir Melville was saying. "The rule generally is, if you do need a weapon, you will need it badly. Aim to kill, Iain, whether it is a man or a polar bear, and don"t bother with this nonsensical notion of only wounding. A wounded man is quite capable of putting a bullet or a knife in you. Save your own life and worry about the consequences later."

"Yes, sir;" I held the pistol clumsily, promising myself that it was going overboard the moment I stepped on board.

"What am I thinking of?" Sudden good humour lightened Sir Melville"s eyes and a smile softened the thin mouth. "There"s Jennifer waiting anxiously for you, and on your wedding day, too. You run along now, and I will put this with your things." Sir Melville gave an indulgent smile. "And Iain, take care of her, will you? Tonight of all nights?"

Restraining my smile, I nodded gravely. "I will, sir."

Sir Melville held my eye for an awkward moment as if to confirm my sincerity. I must have impressed him for he gave a final nod. "Fine; good; off you go then, and when you get to the Arctic, you enjoy the experience."

Jennifer was sitting on a hard backed chair with her hands folded in her lap and her eyes focussed on the floor at her feet. She looked so demure that I was immediately suspicious, but she smiled when I entered. "About time too, Mr Cosgrove. I suppose you have been receiving all sorts of paternalistic and manly advice?"

"Some," I agreed, leaning forward to put my mouth near her ear. "I"ve to be gentle with you tonight."

"Well," Jennifer gave a little humph sound that I had not heard before and put a possessive hand on my arm. "Well, before you have any silly male notions, I will claim you for the evening. You are my husband, after all!"

As the bandmaster announced a waltz, Jennifer gave a smile of satisfaction. "Waltzes are my favourite," she told me, dragging me on to the floor. Moving as close as convention allowed, she whispered. "Come on, Iain; let"s show everybody what to do. I won prizes for dancing, you know."

"I know," I had studied the silver medals that were displayed in a glass case in the drawing room, directly beneath Sir Melville"s Boer War decorations.

The other guests watched, with one or two gently clapping as she guided me through the first dance. I allowed her to lead, for I was unsure how much she knew of my time in Edinburgh when I cut an amazing dash on the floor. Jennifer was my love and my wife, but a succession of other girls had taught me a great deal about dancing; and other things. I shook away the memories; that was the old me.

oldJennifer pressed closer so I could feel the heat of her body as the older ladies gazed fondly through their fans, recalling their own youth.

"Do come back early from Greenland," Jennifer insisted as I took charge and whirled her round unconventionally fast. "I do hate that you have to leave."

"I shall return as soon as I can." I could feel everybody watching, some critically, some with jealousy. Kate Davidson, the little blonde granddaughter of the famous whaling captain, was smiling slightly, her eyes hungry. I remembered her very well, from a time before Jennifer. Catching her eye on me, I thought I"d tease her a little and increased the pace so the musicians had to work harder and the other dancers followed.

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Kate incline her head slightly, allowing her eyes to roam down the length of my body as we passed, and with only a slight movement out of step she contrived to brush her hip lightly against the outside of my thigh as we glided purposefully together.

That"s enough of that, my girl, I decided, and leaned closer to my wife.

"You"re so dashing," Jennifer sounded slightly out of breath, but there was delight in her face. "I must be the happiest woman in the world."

"And I the luckiest man," I led her in a great circle, manoeuvring our position carefully. Kate held my eye for a second, and I smiled at Jennifer. "Kiss me," I commanded and she looked suitably scandalised.

"Not here!"

"Why not? We"re married now; it"s allowed. Kiss me."

Glancing around the crowded room, Jennifer shook her head, so I bent down and touched my lips to her blushing cheek.

"You"re terrible," Jennifer whispered.

"Much worse than you realize," I agreed. I knew that Kate was mentally devouring me and decided to give her a proper show. "Kiss me again," I ordered, and abruptly stopped dancing so Jennifer gave a little gasp.

"Iain! No!"

"Oh yes." I kissed her full on the lips, feeling the thrill of her softness beneath me as she relented. She tasted sweet. "Isn"t that better?" I smiled directly into her eyes, seeing my image in her dilated blue pupils.

"Much," she agreed, and then frowned. "But why have you stopped?"

As I hesitated, open mouthed, Jennifer took the lead, placing her white-gloved hand on my cheek, opening her mouth under my own and shockingly teasing with her tongue until I pulled back.

"There now," the saucy wench smiled directly into my eyes, "that will help you behave for a while, Mr Iain Cosgrove, and keep Kate Davidson thinking too!" She smiled archly, eyebrows raised. "She"s right behind you, Iain, watching avidly, and I know that she still likes you." Jennifer raised her voice just loud enough to be heard above the band and the rhythmic beat of elegant feet on the polished teak floor. "Well, you"re mine now, and she"ll just have to settle for second best."

"You little minx," I said as my astonishment altered to pride and renewed affection chased away any lingering feelings for Kate Davidson. "I do believe that you have me."

"I do believe that I do," Jennifer"s smile widened into a definite grin. "So now," the look she threw at Kate contained a mixture of triumph and complete satisfaction, "shall we dance again? After all we are the stars of the evening, not just hopeful, or should I say, hopeless, admirers."

less"You are the most amazing girl," I told her truthfully, and she shook her head.

"Woman, please, Iain. Katie Davidson is a girl, for girls are not married."

girlsShe was so obviously in charge of the situation that I could not help but laugh and would have hugged her close if she had not again began to dance, forcing me to concentrate on my steps or fall in a most undignified heap in front of all the invited guests.

Jennifer felt the change in atmosphere a fraction before I did, and we both looked up as a blast of bitter air swept across the floor. She shivered and for a brief second I had a vision of the Arctic, with a flat plain of ice and a wind driving snow straight into my face. And then it was gone and instead I could see the dancers on the floor parting like the Red Sea before Moses, and Jennifer was pulling at my sleeve.

"Iain: who is that woman?"