Tales From The Dark Past Collection

Chapter 9

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn"t do than by the ones you did so. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn"t do than by the ones you did so. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.MARK TWAIN

It was a day after we passed Rattray Head that the atmosphere in Lady Balgay seemed to change. I was contemplating the chipped stoneware jar of wood-bodied pens, wondering which one was least likely to blot and wondering when I had last used such archaic implements when a blast of shouted words upset my fragile concentration.

Lady Balgay"Damn and blast and bugger! Call this a seagoing vessel? She"s a b****y bathtub with a figurehead, damn her to hell!"

Welcoming the interruption, I laid down the pen. After only a few days at sea I was already accustomed to the use of foul language, but it was unusual for Captain Milne to indulge quite so liberally. When the captain lowered his moral tone to even more gutter language, I used a heavy rock as a paperweight and emerged from my dingy kennel but soon wished I had not as the wind on deck nearly took my breath away.

"What"s the matter, Captain? Is there anything I can do?" I prayed for something medical, something more interesting than cut fingers and head colds.

"She"s sailing like a pregnant cow in a force ten gale, lopsided as a drunken Irish washerwoman." Milne"s language became more colourful as he condemned the behaviour of his vessel.

Intrigued, for anything was better than scraping a cracked pen nib across damp paper, I looked around. Lady Balgay seemed no worse than normal as she heeled and battered her way north with the sea churning from her forefoot and frothing in her wake. "What"s the matter, Captain Milne?"

Lady Balgay"This damned ship of your father-in-law," Milne glared at me as if I had personally selected, built and launched Lady Balgay. "She"s sailing cockeyed. She rides light on the water and every breath of air sends her skittering like a virgin in a brothel." He looked out to sea, swearing again. "Sail her to Greenland? This bastarding boat would wallow sailing round the Greenmarket on a wet Saturday afternoon!"

Lady BalgayI allowed myself a tolerant smile and spoke to the captain, man to man. "Can anything be done about her behaviour, Captain?"

Milne shrugged, glaring into my eyes as if he hated me. Putting a hand to his cap, he pulled it down so the tattered peak nearly obscured his face. "Aye. I"ll add more ballast. Weigh her down so she doesn"t dance to every tune the wind plays, and when we pick up a few score tons of seal oil, we can ditch the bastarding stuff."

"I see. That sounds simple enough." I nodded as if I understood every word, although in truth I barely comprehended any. "From where can we buy this ballast?"

"Buy it?" Lifting his chin, Milne looked at me as if I had uttered some foul blasphemy. "We don"t buy ballast, Mister Cosgrove." He shook his head, obviously affronted at shore-bound ignoramuses such as me pretending to know anything. "Buy it, by Christ! We"re not all bastarding millionaires! No, we have to work for our living on this clapped out shite boat! We must obtain the ballast, Mr Cosgrove."

obtainTaking two strides toward the taffrail, Milne shook his head in disgust. "We"ll dig the bastarding stuff from a b****y shoal bank. Ten tons of shingle ought to do the trick." He turned suddenly, his eyes hard. "You can help with a shovel, mister. It"s about time you pulled your weight, after skulking in the cabin all voyage like some b****y schoolboy, scrape-scrape-scraping away with pen-and-ink, leaving seamen to do the real work."

Now that was manifestly unfair. I began to protest until I noticed the glint in Captain Milne"s eye and quickly closed my mouth. I was unsure if he was teasing me, or preparing for an argument, but I resolved not to give him satisfaction on either account. "I"ll fetch a shovel, sir."

"You"ll fetch four b****y shovels," Captain Milne corrected, "you can"t shift ten tons of shingle on your own. Not with your lily-white clerk"s hands." Turning abruptly, he shouted a volley of orders that saw Lady Balgay alter course, heading more to the west. "Buy it by Christ! Where the f**k did we get him from?"

Lady BalgayThe wind blew chillingly from the north, flicking the top from the waves so that the sea appeared like a badly ruffled grey and white carpet, constantly in surging motion. As Captain Milne had said, Lady Balgay was tossing madly, one second riding high on the swell, the next crashing into a trough, with her hull shaking, rattling every loose fitting and shifting anything not lashed down around the deck. I glanced upward, where the masts gyrated against ragged grey clouds, and I fought the unaccustomed heave of my stomach. The last thing Lady Balgay needed was a seasick surgeon and the last thing I wanted was to further reveal my nautical ineptitude to the crew.

Lady BalgayLady BalgaySoutar the helmsman swore in unconscious imitation of the captain as he stood in the stern, both hands white-knuckled on the varnished spokes of the wheel.

"Where are we?" I had to shout above the shriek of the wind through the rigging, the banging of loose gear and the constant slap of waves against the bouncing hull.

Concentrating on the binnacle in front of him, Soutar said nothing. Despite the cold, there were beads of sweat oozing from his forehead while the muscles of his forearms writhed with the effort of keeping Lady Balgay on the correct heading.

Lady Balgay"That"s Orkney to port," bald headed Thoms pointed to a stern coastline of low dark cliffs, from which a regular procession of waves boomed. "And that"s the b****y Arctic up there," he indicated northwest with a languid wave of his hand, "where all this wind is coming from."

"Are we going to land in Orkney?"

Thoms shook his head. "No." He seemed to have the knack of shouting without raising his voice, so every word was carried clearly to me. "There"s a skerry a bit offshore. The Captain is going to send us ashore in a dinghy so we can collect shingle as ballast."

"What?" I glanced overboard. Grey waves leaped the length of the hull, smashing angrily at the timbers with their flaking green paint. Lady Balgay shuddered with each new assault, and I imagined rowing a small boat in such seas. "Is that safe?"

Lady Balgay"It"s safer than sailing the b****y Greenland Sea with an improperly trimmed ketch, mister." Captain Milne had appeared from nowhere and looked at me with unconcealed contempt. "When you came aboard, Mr Cosgrove, you told me you were willing to do anything, didn"t you?"

I nodded reluctantly, wondering what my loose mouth had condemned me to.

"Aye, well there are only two things on board a ship: duty and mutiny. All that you are ordered to do is duty. All that you refuse is mutiny." Captain Milne leaned closer. "Well, Mister Cosgrove; are you afraid to do your duty?"

The accusation of fear stiffened my resolve, as was no doubt intended. "Of course not, Captain. I am only concerned for the safety of the ship."

Milne"s brief snort may have contained humour, but I could only detect derision. "The safety of the ship is my concern you young pup. You just obey orders and we"ll get along very well."

"Yes, sir," I thought I should say more, but Captain Milne just grunted again, jammed his cap harder on his head and stalked forward, automatically testing every line and stay that he passed.

Replacing Soutar at the wheel, old John Pratt nodded to me. "Going for more ballast are we? About b****y time, eh?" Checking the set of the sails, he glanced to port, where the dark smear of Orkney was more distinct. What did you say this place was, Tam?"

"Gass Skerry," Thoms told him bluntly, and Pratt started and swore foully.

"You"re crazy man! Gass! We can"t go there!" I could see that only his years of experience kept Pratt from releasing his hold of the varnished spokes.

"Captain"s orders," Thoms defended the obviously unpopular decision.

Pratt took a step backward, but his hands still held the spokes. "I"ll not set foot on that place," he stated flatly. "Does the captain not know the stories?"

"Either he doesn"t know or he doesn"t believe them, John," Thoms appeared equally uncomfortable with the decision. "But Gass does have good shingle, perfect for ballast."

"No," Pratt shook his head. "I"ll go to the captain and tell him. He"ll listen to me, eh?"

"You"ll say nothing, John," Thoms told him, nearly smiling. "You haven"t the grit to question the captain."

"What stories?" I asked. "What"s wrong with Gass Skerry? It is dangerous?"

Pratt looked at me, but a nudge from Thoms prevented him from speaking.

"What stories?" I repeated, but there was a yell from forward and young Mitchell scurried to me with a bleeding hand to be stitched. By the time I returned on deck Captain Milne was back in his customary position in the stern and I knew that Pratt would say nothing in front of authority.

Orkney rose before us in a display of low cliffs and recently ploughed fields. The farmhouses were lonely under a graveyard sky, but oxymoronically cosy with the drift of smoke from chimneys. A score of fishing boats clustered companionably a mile or so to the south.

"There," Milne pointed with his chin. "That"s where you"re headed, Mister Cosgrove."

Gass Skerry was around half a mile offshore, a great curving bank of shingle and rock from which a straggle of sea birds soared. It looked innocuous enough to me, save for the breakers that crashed along the shore and the never-ending suck and surge of the sea.

"God save us all," Thoms repeated endlessly. "God save us all." But when I looked at him he closed his mouth and said nothing, although his knuckles were white on Lady Balgay"s rail.

Lady Balgay"s"Captain Milne," Pratt had been ordered to go with me, but he shook his head, staring at the skerry as he obviously gathered his courage to speak. "We can"t go there, sir. Don"t you know the stories?"

"What?" Milne"s face darkened. "Are you challenging my command of this ship?"

Pratt stood with his head down and his hands twisting together in front of him. He was the most humble of mariners, always willing to obey any order, so I knew it had taken a lot for him to speak up. Captain Milne stepped to within a foot from him, nearly pressing his face against that of the old seaman.

"No, sir," Pratt shook his head, "but Gass Skerry…"

"You"ll obey my b****y orders the instant I give them!" Captain Milne kept his voice low and those uncanny green eyes fixed on Pratt"s. His hands were deep in the pockets of his tattered jacket and his chin out thrust. "Get in that boat and do as you"re told." Although it hardly rose above a whisper there was no mistaking the authority in the captain"s voice.

I could see Pratt hesitated and I could nearly read his mind as he debated whether to obey orders or remain on board. He glanced from Captain Milne to the shingle bank on which the surf bounced and echoed.

"Is there nowhere else, Captain?" There was nearly a whine in his voice.

"No."

"Come on, John," Thoms urged quietly. "There"s no help for it."

"But, Captain," Pratt gave a last despairing plea. "You must know the stories, eh?"

"I know superstitious nonsense, Pratt!" Captain Milne looked away for a second, then adjusted his cap so it sat square on top of his head. "Listen John, I do know the tales, but I don"t believe them, and neither should you. I also know that Lady Balgay is riding light, so we need to trim her if we"re to reach the seal fisheries, and this skerry has the finest ballast for two hundred miles."

Lady Balgay"Yes, Captain." Pratt nodded. He obviously appreciated Captain Milne"s tactful explanation. "But the stories?"

"Damn and blast the stories, Pratt!" Captain"s Milne"s brittle patience snapped. "Get in that b****y boat and do your duty! You too Mr Surgeon! Move!"

I nodded assent as, moaning softly, Pratt gave a last imploring glance to the captain and nodded reluctant acceptance. He fingered the scrimshaw mermaid that was suspended on a leather thong around his neck and muttered something under his breath.

Watching him closely, Captain Milne grunted but did not leave his position on the deck.

Both the small dinghy and the larger whaleboat sat bottom-up on deck, but it took only minutes for the hands to upend the dinghy and lower it over the side. While Thoms held the boat secure with a boathook, Pratt, nearly sixty but more agile than most landsmen of twenty, scrambled over the rail and took the forward oars. Mitchell followed, holding out a hand to help me. With every eye in Lady Balgay watching, I moved as quickly as I could to avoid becoming a figure of fun.

Lady Balgay"Take your time, Mr Cosgrove," Thoms advised, showing the first concern that I had experienced since coming on board. "No sense in taking a tumble when you can take your time."

"Mr Cosgrove," Captain Milne leaned down from the rail, a mere three feet away, "you take charge. Bring back as much shingle ballast as you can carry, and don"t listen to Pratt"s nonsense. Don"t allow him to get off with anything. You understand?"

Glancing at Pratt, I could only nod, knowing that I was certainly not qualified to lead these hard-bitten men. "Yes, captain."

"Aye. He"s a good seaman, but…" Milne did not finish the sentence. "And mind you don"t capsize the boat, you hear?"

"Yes, Captain," I repeated.

"These boats cost money and I won"t be buying another this side of the Tay, that"s for certain sure." Spitting into the sea, Milne turned away.

I had thought that Lady Balgay had been unsteady, but she seemed a haven of security compared to the mad gyrations of the dinghy. I gasped in sudden agitation, grabbing at the bulwark for balance and allowed Thoms to settle me on a thwart.

Lady Balgay"All right, Doctor. Sit yourself down now."

Taking a deep breath to steady my frayed nerves, I grasped an oar, hoping that I would not be disgraced in this simple nautical skill.

"Have you rowed before, sir?" Thoms asked, and looked relieved when I nodded false confidence. "Then you"ll be fine. Where on the shoal shall we beach?"

"Wherever is easiest, Mr Thoms." I had long decided it would be best to treat the crew with as much respect as I could, in the somewhat forlorn hope they would do the same for me. "I"ll be guided by whatever advice you care to give." I looked to Pratt for help, but the bearded man looked away, saying nothing. I noticed that his hands were trembling and wondered if he was genuinely nervous about landing at Gass Skerry, or if he was still suffering withdrawal symptoms from the alcoholic excesses of shore life.

"It"s a bit breezy!" I tried again as a wave exploded against the prow of the boat and sent a bucketful of spray inboard. Nobody replied, but young Robert Mitchell gave a small nod and a nervous half smile.

A pair of oystercatchers circled overhead as we approached the shoal, and a host of black-backed gulls screamed in discordant chorus around the boat. Pratt glanced up, ignoring the spindrift that spattered from the prow as he handled his oar with a casual nonchalance that did not square with his unequivocal anxiety. "They birds are warning us about something."

Thoms looked upward to the lowering sky. "Maybe they"re saying the weather"s about to change."

"No, it"s not that, Tommy. They"re warning us not to land. Should we not return to Lady Balgay, Dr Cosgrove?"

Lady BalgayI hesitated, not being used to giving nautical advice. "I"m afraid not, Mr Pratt. We must all follow the captain"s orders."

"But Dr Cosgrove…"

"Shut up, John. The doctor can"t do anything about it. We"ll be all right." Thoms nodded to me. "You just work your oar, Doctor, and leave the rest to us."

I nodded, thankful for Thoms" intervention, and tried to concentrate on rowing. With the swell so steep, I found it hard to get the angle of the oar correct as I pulled through the water, and I was terrified that I would catch a succession of crabs that would lead to ridicule from these leather-faced men.

The gulls massed above us, beaks open, wings spread like wavering white crucifixes, their eyes unblinking, remorseless. One swooped downward, nearly catching Pratt with its talons.

"They"re definitely upset," Pratt said, resting on his oars as he ducked.

"They"re only b****y birds," Mitchell sounded scornful. "They can"t tell us anything."

Pratt glowered at him. "Thank you for your unwanted opinion," he said, "gained after days of experience." He spat into the wind. "You have to read the signs at sea, young Rab. Listen to the birds and the wind; understand the sky and most of all, feel the ship or you won"t last very long. That"s what"s wrong with you youngsters nowadays with your new-fangled gramophones, steam ships and electric lights. Spoiled, that"s what you are." His glower included me, as if youth was to blame for every ill in the world.

Mitchell coloured and ducked his head, sulking in shamed silence as a single gull landed on the prow, preening its feathers as it watched the toiling men.

"Now that bastard is deciding which one of us to peck at first," Pratt said gloomily, but nobody replied.

Gass Skerry was larger than I had thought; a great semi-circle of shifting shingle and gaunt black rock all fringed by crashing surf. For a moment I was back in the university anatomy lectures, with the shovels posing as a blunt scalpel, the rock as the bones of a corpse and the shingle as the decaying flesh. The thought was unpleasant and I shook it away and concentrated on finding the best place to land. The seaward side was obviously useless, for the surf scoured savagely at the shingle and withdrew, sucking backward so violently I knew the dingy would be overturned.

"We"re not landing there," I announced and steered around the northern tip of the skerry until we could ease into the lee side. The water calmed immediately, and the boat glided in the sudden shelter. Half a mile away, the Mainland of Orkney beckoned with the farms now welcoming and the fields more familiar than the sea.

"Shall we bring her ashore here, Mr Cosgrove?" Thoms asked diplomatically and I nodded.

"It looks best to me."

We hit the shingle with a rush, the keel digging deep into the sea-smoothed pebbles, and the men leaped out, yelling for me to join them and help drag the dinghy away from murmuring waves. Again Pratt fingered his scrimshaw mermaid.

"Don"t haul the boat too far up," Thoms warned. "She"ll be a damned sight heavier when we come to pull her off." He looked around, his face distorted as he slithered up the sliding shingle. "Ugly place this."

I was more ambivalent; ugliness was in the mind, rather than in the eye of the beholder and this skerry could have been far worse. When a sudden shaft of sunlight lightened the atmosphere I found the place fascinating, a place of black rock and variegated grey and white stones set against the silver and blue backdrop of the sea. In the centre, rising high above anything else and surmounting a large cairn, a single pole nodded to the blast of the wind.

"I don"t think this place is ugly at all," I gave a tentative opinion, looking for support from Mitchell.

"It"s ugly all right," Pratt spoke first. "It"s ugly in every possible way." He swore as he unloaded the shovels from the boat, testing them for weight and choosing the lightest before he combed his beard with stubby fingers. "It"s not a place I would have chosen for ballast, that"s for certain." He shrugged as if attempting to push the fear from his mind; it remained to haunt his eyes. "I only hope that the story doesn"t spread."

"What story?" Mitchell asked, flinching when Pratt raised an admonitory fist.

"Never you mind, you work shy little bastard. You just get on with the shovelling." Pratt paused, sliding his shovel just under the surface of the shingle. "Right, we"ll just throw it directly into the boat; makes it easier that way."

About to nod agreement, I stopped. Although I was very aware of my lack of years and experience, I had no intention of allowing any mere foc"sle seaman, even one with Pratt"s grey hairs, to make decisions that should belong to me. "No," I spoke loudly to carry my voice above the noise of the waves. "We will fill the sacks I have brought."

"You"ve brought sacks?" Pratt stared at me in disbelief, "for b****y ballast?"

Thoms shook his head. "The captain won"t like that, Mr Cosgrove. He won"t like that at all."

"It will be easier to carry in sacks," I explained as patiently as I could, "and we"ll dig over there," I pointed to the cairn that rose prominently in front of us, where the seagulls voiced a rising clamour of protest.

"Not there." Pratt"s voice was high pitched and for a moment I thought he was going to run back to the boat as he glanced first at the cairn and then behind him. Instead he shook his head so violently I swear I heard his teeth rattle. "Not ever from there."

"It"s easier," I pointed out, reasonably I thought. "There"s less bending so it"s easier for the back."

"Jesus!" Pratt screwed up his face in disgust. "Do you any have b****y idea what you"re doing?"

"I have the idea that Captain Milne put me in command," I reminded, lifting my shovel. "Come along Robert; you can hold the bag for me, while Mr Thoms and Mr Pratt work together."

Glancing toward Pratt as if for confirmation, Mitchell ducked his head and followed, clutching a small pile of sacks.

"I"m not going near that place!" Pratt shouted, "and neither should you!"

Ignoring him, I winked at Mitchell and carried on, with my boots sliding on the shingle and the wind ruffling pleasantly through my hair.

The cairn was taller than I had expected, a full eight feet in height, with a base of large stones that tapered to a crumbling apex of small pebbles. "I wonder what this was for," I tried to make conversation with Mitchell. The stones shifted under my boots when I thrust my shovel into the shingle, "maybe it is some sort of marker?"

Mitchell held open the sack. "Maybe, sir. I don"t know." He was silent for a few moments as I filled his sack. "It could be a sea mark, Doctor Cosgrove, something to help fishing boats find their way home."

"You could be right, Robert. It could have been built here to mark the skerry." I shovelled a load of small pebbles into Mitchell"s sack and raised my voice against the wind. "What do you think, Mr Thoms? What was this mound for?"

Thoms looked over. He was digging a good thirty feet away, with Pratt keeping his back turned in protest as he held open a sack. "I"m not sure," he said, but there was something in his voice that convinced me he was lying.

"Do you have any idea, Mr Pratt?"

"I think you"d be best to leave it well alone," Pratt said. He turned around but did not look directly at me, or at the cairn. "You"ll not find me touching that thing, Mr Cosgrove, and if you"ve half the sense you should have, you"ll leave it well alone. b****y well alone."

Just as Pratt finished complaining, I had a very unsettling experience that stayed with me for the remainder of my stay on that skerry. Perhaps it was the angle of the light, but for an instant I thought I saw a woman walking across the shingle toward me, her face shaded but sunlight silhouetting her statuesque body as through a transparent dress. I blinked and glanced away, but when I looked again she had vanished; there was nothing but the sky, the shingle and the circling, screaming seabirds.

"Did you see that?" I asked, but Pratt was still swearing foully, resolutely staring out to sea, where a mist was rising between the skerry and Lady Balgay.

Lady Balgay"See what? I can see that b****y mist!"

"All right, Mr Pratt," I decided. I was not quite sure what to make of Pratt, but that vision was a bit disturbing. I shook away the feeling and decided that either I was sleeping badly or I needed a tonic. All the same, I thought it best not to antagonise the men further. "If you are so adamant, we"ll just take the shingle from round about, rather than the cairn itself."

"A bit further away would be better, Mr Cosgrove." Pratt was shaking his head with surprising obstinacy. "As far away as possible would be best of all."

"We"ll take it from here." I made my voice as severe as possible, for I had bent far enough to this old man"s superstition, and that mist was getting thicker. I had no desire to be stuck on this godforsaken island if visibility deteriorated and the tide rose. "Come on; the captain is waiting." I thrust in the shovel but staggered at the weight of the load. I was a doctor, not a labourer, but I must show no weakness to the men.

At least one of the men was not as naive as I had hoped. "Dr Cosgrove," Thoms said tactfully. "It"s not right that you should do the manual work. Best leave that to young Rab."

About to uphold my authority by persisting with my shovelling, I noticed the expression of near terror on Pratt"s face and relented. Thoms was correct: I had no need to prove anything; furthermore, my duty was to care for the mental stability of these men just as much as their physical well-being. "If this cairn is here as a marker," I announced grandly, "maybe it would be best to dig elsewhere. We don"t want the pole to topple for lack of support."

I was more than curious when I saw Pratt"s sudden relief.

"That"s a good idea, Doctor. The shingle is better over here." The old man guided me to his oh-so-much superior shingle, nearly dragging me away from the central mound.

"You dig, Rab, and the doctor can hold the sacks, eh?"

Seagulls circled as we worked, endlessly screaming, occasionally diving so that their dark shadow flitted briefly across the backs of the men who toiled below.

"I wish these b****y birds would go away," Pratt glanced upward, his eyes rolling back in his head. "I don"t like their constant crying, like some damned soul calling for eternal rest."

"They"re just birds, John." Thoms rested for a second on the handle of the shovel. "They"re nothing but b****y, useless b****y birds."

"So why can"t they go and catch some fish or something?" Pratt ducked as a gull swooped low overhead, its outspread wings nearly touching the top of his head. "Did you see that? It tried to peck my eyes out."

"Wish it would peck your b****y tongue out," Thoms said. "It might keep you quiet for a while. Moan and complain; that"s all you ever do!"

I hid my grin; gratuitous insults were so normal on Lady Balgay that I considered them as healthy banter. I had been right to move away from the cairn for the ballast; the men were obviously more cheerful for the sake of those few yards. I did not like the look of that mist though, hazing the sea and creeping slowly toward us. I wondered if the woman had disappeared into it and grunted at my own imagination. Obviously, I told myself, I had spent too much time in Pratt"s company.

Lady BalgayLight rain was falling as we dragged the boat back into the water before loading the sacks. Despite the late-winter chill we were all sweating, although the men were used to working every bit as hard on board Lady Balgay.

Lady Balgay"Ballast, by Christ! I"ll ballast Captain b****y Milne, given the chance." Thoms hauled another sack onto the dinghy, swearing mightily as Pratt mumbled under his breath and fingered his scrimshaw mermaid. Only Mitchell said nothing, but I think that he was more overawed by the older men than anything else. When all the sacks were on the boat, I nodded to Thoms.

"That"s the last now, Mr Thoms. We"ll be back on board soon."

Thoms spat into the sea. "Aye. So what? We"re just exchanging one type of work for another. Why did I not choose to work in a mill?"

"They wouldn"t b****y have a bald old bugger like you, that"s why." Pratt glowered at him. "Come on Tommy, let"s get away from here."