Children of the Tide (45 page)

He wiped his mouth and straightened up. ‘I’m going to fetch a doctor. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

‘They won’t take them into ’Infirmary, will they?’ asked Tim. ‘Our Mary won’t want to go. Not without I go with her.’

Billy’s eyes smarted. How could he explain to this small boy that his sister wouldn’t be going anywhere ever again? He turned away. Where to go? Not all doctors would be willing to come to patients who couldn’t pay.

Then he remembered Doctor Fleming, who had often been called upon to attend casualties at Masterson and Rayner; mainly to porters or seamen who had injured themselves during the course of
their work.
I can but ask
, he thought as he set off at a run towards Lowgate where the doctor lived.

A carriage was waiting outside the doctor’s house and the doctor just emerging into the street to enter it.

‘Doctor Fleming,’ Billy said breathlessly. ‘You’re needed urgently. There are some very sick children—’

‘There are sick people all over this town, young man.’ The doctor looked at him from over his round spectacles. ‘But I cannot attend them all. You must find someone else, I fear.’

He put one foot on the step of his carriage. ‘Where are they, these children? Are they within walking distance? And how many of them?’

‘They’re in the cellars in North Church Side. It’s only five minutes, sir. If you could just come. There are about seven or eight of them, all very sick.’

The doctor stepped down and confronted Billy. ‘In the cellars? Which cellars?’

‘Where the warehouse burnt down, sir.’ Billy spoke quickly, trying to impress the urgency upon him. ‘That’s where they live.’

‘Beggar children, are they? Vagrants?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Billy said despondently. So now he wouldn’t come. He’d have to find someone else.

The doctor put his foot back onto the carriage step and entered. After closing the door, he pushed down the window. ‘I can’t come. I’m on my way to a woman about to give birth. Ring the bell on my door. My nephew is there. Tell him I told him to go with you. It’ll do him good to see life in the raw rather than reading about it in his text books.’

He tapped on the roof of the carriage with his cane and it pulled away, leaving Billy feeling guilty for his erroneous attitude towards the diligent doctor.

Doctor Sheppard was a brisk, eager young man who grabbed his bag and hurried after Billy as soon as he was told of his uncle’s directive. ‘Thank heavens,’
he said. ‘I thought I was going to be twiddling my thumbs all night.’

‘Why didn’t you go to the birthing?’ Billy asked curiously.

‘The woman wouldn’t have me,’ he said cheerfully. ‘She said having one male there was more than was seemly. It’s a breech and likely to be a forceps job, otherwise she wouldn’t have had my uncle either. You know what women are like,’ he added. ‘They think that men are in the way at such a time.’

Billy reflected that they were probably right. How could men be expected to understand the rigours of birth? The only births that he had seen were those of lambs and calves and small animals like kittens and pups in the stables at Garston Hall, when he had watched in awesome fascination.

‘Where are we going?’ Doctor Sheppard looked around the street as Billy slowed from his fast trot as they neared the cellar steps.

‘I’m afraid it’s pretty rough down here,’ Billy said, and the boys who were still sitting near the steps moved back to let the doctor through. They ducked their heads as they went through the low opening and entered the dark and musty interior.

‘What in God’s name is this place? It’s as black as
Hades
.’ The doctor slipped and almost stumbled. ‘Surely no-one lives in this wretched place? Is there no light?’

‘There is no light,’ Billy said grimly. ‘Not down here, or in their lives. Wait a moment and your eyes will become accustomed. These are all children living alone,’ he explained, ‘though there are other people living further back; families and some single people – some drunks, some escaping from the law. But no-one interferes with the other, everybody keeps to themselves.’

‘I’m going to be sick,’ the doctor muttered. ‘The air is foul.’

‘Try not to breathe too deeply,’ Billy advised him.

‘Thanks for the advice,
doctor
,’ Doctor Sheppard said sardonically. ‘I’ll try to remember.’

Billy gave a spontaneous grin in the darkness, though he felt far from humorous. Here was a man he could relate to. ‘Here they are,’ he whispered as they reached the children. ‘One child is dead. They’ve been drinking from a bucket of water which smells putrid.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me. The water is still being drawn from the River Hull, and we know well what gets thrown in there.’ Sheppard pulled back the coat covering Tim’s sister and hastily threw it back again. ‘She’s dead all right, has been for some time. We’ll have to get the body out before it starts decomposing.’

Billy put his hand to his mouth as nausea overtook him.

‘Breathe through your mouth if you feel faint,’ Doctor Sheppard said. ‘Never mind the stench, and if you’re going to be sick, go and get it over with.’

‘No, I’m all right,’ Billy gasped. It was not the nauseating stench but the thought of the poor child, Tim’s sister, spoken of in such basic terms that had sickened him.

‘This is Dinah,’ he said, going to where the young girl lay. ‘She said they’d been sick since Saturday.’

Doctor Sheppard put his hand on Dinah’s forehead as Billy had done less than half an hour ago. ‘I don’t know if we can save her,’ he said. ‘We have to get them out of here. They need fresh water; saline.’ He put his hands to his head. ‘I’ve not seen it before. But I’m almost sure.’

‘What?’ Billy asked, staring open-mouthed at his stricken face.

‘It’s cholera.’

Gilbert leaned back and put his feet up on the desk. He felt rather pleased with himself. He had been included in the assembly of notable shipping personages of the town in the procession to the new public park, and had had discussions with eminent members of the shipping and commerce professions on the state of the whaling industry. At least, he had listened and sagely nodded his head when points had been brought up, and he had agreed that the industry wasn’t what it had once been, now that there were fewer whaling ships sailing from Hull.

The Greenland Yards, which prepared and boiled the blubber for processing into oil, were in the process of being closed down, while other industries were springing up as new machinery was developed; seed oil was displacing whale oil, and coal gas for street lighting had long ago supplanted the product of the whale. But, Gilbert had considered complacently, theirs was a well-established firm, which ran smoothly on standards of good sense and practicability set long ago.

He was gratified, too, by his own personal finances. The money borrowed and speculated at Billington’s suggestion had proved a sound investment. He had paid back the original loan and with the interest accrued he had reinvested again, once more on Austin Billington’s advice. He had transferred the company’s business to Billington’s bank and severed all connections with the previous bank.

Yes, things are going pretty well
, he thought smugly.
Billington’s the man for us; he’s sharp and forward-looking
,
not afraid to take a bit of a chance, unlike that old stick in the mud, Collins. I might even have a wager
, he mused.
It’s quite some time since I had a game of crib. Although Harriet wouldn’t approve. I shouldn’t have to tell her
.

He had been prompted towards this fancy when he’d caught sight of Craddock in the town. Craddock had a large parcel beneath his arm and he’d crossed over the road deliberately in order to speak to Gilbert.

‘Don’t see you these days, Rayner,’ he said facetiously. ‘Little wifey keep you under lock and key, does she?’

‘Not at all,’ Gilbert replied stiffly. ‘I’ve been very busy.’

‘Of course.’ Craddock smiled. ‘I do understand. But there’s a game on this evening if you’re interested. Bring Mrs Rayner if you think she’d like a gamble.’

‘She wouldn’t.’ Gilbert wouldn’t dream of taking Harriet to such places. Gambling dens were not suitable for ladies of Harriet’s sensitivities.

‘Can’t blame you, old fellow.’ Craddock gave him an insidious grin. ‘It’s cost me a fortune.’ He indicated the parcel. ‘My little lady saw me win last night and wheedled a new gown out of me.’ He winked. ‘I told her if she was specially nice to me, I would come out and buy her one from Madame Schubert.’

‘Indeed?’ Gilbert had moved away. ‘Must be off.’

‘Don’t forget then!’ Craddock called out. ‘Tonight at the Squirrel Club, ten o’clock. If you’re allowed out!’

Ten o’clock, he pondered, taking his feet off the desk and reaching for the hand bell.
It’s tempting, though I don’t know what excuse I would give if I went out at that hour
.

‘Yes, sir?’ His clerk answered the bell.

‘Ask my cousin to come up will you, Jennings.’ Gilbert busily shuffled some papers around his desk.

‘Mr Billy hasn’t come in today, sir.’

Gilbert looked up. ‘Not come in? Have you had word from him? Is he sick?’

‘We haven’t heard, sir. We knew that he wasn’t going to be in Monday or Tuesday, but expected him as usual today. Should I send round to his lodgings?’

‘Yes, you’d better – mm, no, on second thoughts, don’t bother, leave it until later in the day. Perhaps he’s been held up with something.’

The clerk turned back to the door.

‘Send Hardwick up then. Ask him to bring the accounts that he was working on yesterday.’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Rayner. Mr Hardwick isn’t in either. He had a message to go down to ’docks while you were out earlier and he hasn’t got back yet.’

Gilbert sighed. ‘All right. Send either of them up if and when they get back.’

Jennings closed the door behind him. Gilbert rose and stood by the window. Below him, in the Old Harbour, barges and tug boats were packed into the narrow waterway, and on the quayside the porters and tally men were counting coils of ropes and checking crates of equipment before despatching them down the river to the docks, where some of the old wooden whaling ships were laid up for further strengthening.

The
Polar Star Two
and
Arctic Star
were iron ships, powered by steam, and although they had both had successful voyages, the seamen who sailed on them were less than satisfied, being of the opinion that the wooden ships rode the waters of the Arctic and withstood the pressures of the ice much better than the iron vessels. But there was still a disparity of opinion as other men told of the long journeys tracking through the ice before the advent of steam arrived to quicken their voyage through that harsh landscape.

Perhaps we should diversify
, he thought.
We have had good catches of seals over the last couple of years, better than the whales. Maybe it’s true that there are fewer whales than there once were. Perhaps on the next voyage we’ll try
for seals in Newfoundland rather than the Davis Straits for whales
. He sighed.
Decisions, decisions. I wish Father was here
.

There was a pad of running feet on the stairs and an urgent knock on the door. He turned from the window and returned reluctantly to his desk.

‘Sorry, Mr Gilbert. But can you come down to ’docks?’ Hardwick, whose forefathers had been with the firm for almost a century, stood flushed and breathless in the doorway.

‘What’s happened? Is something wrong?’ It wasn’t like Hardwick to be so agitated. He was not given to panic.

‘Some of ’other whalers are in.’ He stood in front of Gilbert’s desk. ‘Two of Brown’s;
Lara
, belonging to Wymark’s, and two more of Samuelson’s are off ’Shetlands.’

‘Yes – and?’ There was more to come, judging by Hardwick’s anxious face.

‘They’ve none of them seen ’
Polar Star Two
, not since they set off from Shetlands on ’outward voyage.’ He took a deep breath. ‘And they’ve not seen ’
Arctic Star
since she was in Melville Bay.’

‘Plenty of time. Plenty of time. Another month yet before we need to start worrying.’ Gilbert sounded more confident than he felt.

‘For ’
Arctic Star
, yes, perhaps, sir. But not for ’
Star Two. Lara
was ’last to see her. Nobody has seen her since. She’s disappeared. She’s gone from ’face of ’earth.’

‘Rubbish! There are other ships due in. Somebody will have seen her.’ He frowned. ‘There’s something else bothering you, Hardwick?’

‘Yes, sir. That’s why I wanted you to come down to ’docks. There was a message for you to go earlier, but you weren’t here, so I went instead.’ He tapped the desk top with his fingertips. ‘There are some women waiting by ’dock side. Wives of men from both ships. They’re a bit agitated as well they might be. But –
but, they’re blaming ’company, sir. They’re saying that ’
Star Two
voyage was doomed from ’start.’

‘Doomed from the start! What is that supposed to mean?’ Gilbert exploded. ‘She’s a good ship. Seaworthy!’

‘It’s because no-one from ’company saw her off, Mr Gilbert. I know that you sent her a message, but they’re saying that that wasn’t good enough, that there should have been somebody there.’

Gilbert stared at the man in front of him. Hardwick would understand these women more than anyone. His was an old seafaring family, and he would know of all the old superstitions and customs, and although seeing off the departure of company ships had been instigated by the senior members of Masterson and Rayner themselves, the tradition was now firmly entrenched and had become part of a ritual, so important to the superstitious sea-going folk.

‘I’ll come down.’ He strode from behind his desk and reached for his hat from the stand. ‘You’d better come with me, Hardwick, and we’ll sort it out together.’

Some of the women gathered on the dock side had taken time from work; many were from the fish yards and were wearing their wooden clogs, and with swollen reddened hands were clutching the woollen shawls which were draped around their heads. Others had small children clinging to their skirts or babies at their breasts.