The Constant Heart (51 page)

Bertha handed them over grudgingly. 'What are you going to do?'

'You'll see. Stand up, Rosie.'

Rosina did as she asked. 'I don't see . . .'

'Wait a moment and you will.' Caddie snipped a rosette of lace-trimmed silk from the bustle at the back of Rosina's gown. 'Turn round and look at me.'

Chuckling at Caddie's unusual bossiness, Rosina turned to face her. 'What next?'

Taking a hairpin from her own hair, Caddie fastened the rosette at a cunning angle over Rosina's left ear. 'There. It ain't exactly a bonnet, but it's a headdress of sorts and it suits you down to the ground. What do you think, Bertha?'

'It'll do, I suppose, but a nice straw bonnet would do better.'

Rosina arrived at the wharf just as the last barge was setting sail. The fat man with the gold watch was just about to climb into a carriage and she had to run the last few yards. 'Wait, sir. Please wait. May I have a word with you?'

He hesitated, frowning. 'What do you want with me, young woman?'

'My name is Rosina May and I am the owner of the sailing barge
Ellie May
. I wish to speak to you on a business matter, sir.'

He pushed his bowler hat to the back of his head, eyeing her with a spark of interest. 'A woman owning a barge? Come, come, young lady, is this some kind of joke? I'm a busy man. I don't like time-wasters.'

'No, indeed. And I am not a time-waster. I can ship your rubbish for you at a very reasonable rate.' She caught him by the sleeve as he started to walk away. 'I'll do it cheaper than the best offer you've had.'

He turned slowly, giving her a piercing look. 'What do you know about barge business, Miss May?'

'My father was Captain Edward May, a shipmaster for thirty years. I've lived on Black Eagle Wharf for most of my life, and, although I don't pretend to be an experienced skipper or businesswoman, I am prepared to learn. And because of my inexperience, I will give a rate that no one else could match, Mr – er – I'm sorry, I did not catch your name.'

'George Gilks. And I have enough barge captains working for me. I have no need, nor do I wish, to deal with a young woman who ought to be at home waiting patiently for a suitable husband to come and claim her.'

He climbed into the carriage, but before he could shut the door, Rosina had leapt in beside him. 'You would not speak to me in such a way if I were a man.'

'No, I would not. Take my advice, Miss May. Go home and concentrate on being a pretty young woman. Leave business matters to men.

Now, will you be good enough to alight from my carriage; I have business elsewhere in the city.'

'Give me one cargo. That's all I ask. If I cannot deliver the rubbish to its due destination in good time, and at a cheaper rate than any other barge captain, then I will admit defeat.'

His lips twitched and she saw a glimmer of amusement in his grey eyes. 'You are a persistent young woman, I'll give you that.'

'I mean business, Mr Gilks. I am in deadly earnest; I am not playing games. All I ask is one chance. What have you got to lose?'

Gilks leaned back against the leather squabs, eyeing her shrewdly. 'Have your vessel at the wharf at eleven o'clock this evening and you shall have a load of rubbish to take to Queenborough on the Medway. If you can accomplish that trip successfully and be back here in the same time as it takes the other barges, then I might consider giving you a contract. But I have to tell you, young lady, that I think it highly unlikely that you will even get as far as Queenborough, let alone make the return journey in the required time.'

Rosina shook his hand. 'You will be pleasantly surprised, Mr Gilks. Good day, sir.' She climbed down from the carriage and marched off with her head held high. She knew that she was smiling, and received some odd glances from passers-by, but she somehow managed to resist the temptation to crow with delight. She had not really believed that hard-faced Mr Gilks would give in so easily, but desperation had made her bold, and now they had a chance to prove themselves. She made her way back to the hut with a spring in her step. She looked up into the hazy blue sky, wondering if her papa was looking down at her. She wanted so badly to tell him what she had achieved; he would be proud of her, she was certain of that.

Night came all too soon. Rosina's euphoria had diminished into a welter of nervous tension as she waited until it was time to go down to the wharf with Pip and Caddie. She had hung her precious gown on a nail in the wall, and borrowed Caddie's only change of clothing: a much-darned bombazine skirt and a cotton blouse. She took down the scraps of cloth from the window and tore them into squares to serve as masks against the flying dust. With her hair scraped back into a bun and her sleeves rolled up in anticipation of hard manual labour, Rosina knew that she was as ready as she ever would be.

Under Pip's surprisingly expert guidance, they moved the
Ellie May
and made fast alongside the wharf in time to load the rubbish. Rosina and Caddie tied the cloths over their mouths and noses, standing back to allow the dockers to do their work. Dust flew up and enveloped them in thick, suffocating clouds; the stench was appalling. Rosina coughed and retched and her eyes streamed, irritated by the small particles of grit. The sky was like an inverted bowl of pitch above their heads and the flickering light of the gas flares illuminated a scene which was frighteningly akin to her childhood imaginings of hell.

It was sheer relief when the shovelling and tipping of the rubbish ceased and the hold was full. Pip had instructed them with surprising clarity as to what Rosina and Caddie must do in the way of setting the different sails, while he took the tiller and steered them through the busy river traffic of Limehouse Hole into Limehouse Reach. To Rosina's inexperienced eyes, the dark water was alive with bobbing lights, darting before her eyes like hundreds of tiny fireflies. Pip, however, seemed to know his way instinctively and he steered them skilfully through the maze of shipping. There were moments of panic when she and Caddie set the wrong sail, or when a steamboat chugged past them, taking their wind, but Pip took it all in his stride and gradually they gained confidence in his seamanship. It was exhausting work and they were unused to being up all night. As the first grey-green streaks of dawn appeared in the east Rosina was so tired that she could barely keep her eyes open. The palms of her hands were blistered, and some had burst, creating painful weeping sores. Her back ached and she was numbed with cold. She looked at Caddie who did not seem to have fared much better, but Pip was at the tiller, smoking a pipe of baccy as if he had done this all his life. He met her eyes and grinned. 'This is fun, ain't it, miss? I've never had so much pleasure in all me born days.'

'If you say so, Pip.'

His smile faded to a look of concern. 'You should get some rest, and Caddie too. I can handle the old girl as far as the Medway, no trouble.'

'If you're sure.' Rosina could think of nothing she wanted more in life other than to lie down on the narrow bunk in the cabin and rest her weary limbs. She moved slowly and stiffly to Caddie, who was sitting on the deck with her arms wrapped round her knees. 'Come, dear. Pip says we should get some rest. He'll call us when we're needed.'

Caddie struggled to her feet. 'I could sleep on a bed of nails like one of them Indian gents at the fair.' She stumbled towards the cabin and disappeared inside.

Rosina hesitated for a moment. She sniffed the air and it smelt good. There was only a faint whiff of the rubbish below the hatch covers. The stench from the tanneries, iron works and glue factories had been nauseating, but the industrial part of the East End was now far behind them. She might be imagining things, but she thought she could smell clover, damp soil and just a hint of the salt tang of the sea. She made her way to the cabin and she lay down on her father's old bunk. Was it her imagination, or did the faint scent of him linger in the feather pillow? She closed her eyes, and her father's face seemed to be smiling at her. As she drifted off into a sleep of sheer exhaustion, she thought she heard his voice. 'Well done, poppet. I am so proud of you, my little Rosie.'

Someone was calling her name. It wasn't her papa and it wasn't Caddie. Rosina opened her eyes and saw Pip bending over her with a mug of tea in his hand. 'Morning, miss. I've made a brew.'

She sat up to take the tea from him. 'Thank you, Pip. But how . . .'

'Found a little spirit stove and some tea in a tin. Can't work without a cup of split pea inside you. No sugar though, and no milk. Maybe we could get some afore we makes the return trip.'

Caddie was already sitting up sipping from a cracked china mug. 'We've stopped moving. Are we there?'

'Not yet, missis. I've lashed the tiller so we keeps course for a bit. The only thing is, Miss Rosie, I never learned how to read, and your dada's charts don't mean nothing to me.'

Rosina swallowed a mouthful of hot tea. 'You mean, you don't know where we are?'

'Not exactly, miss. But I'd say we ain't a mile away from the mouth of the Med way. The river's wider here and the currents is stronger.'

'Best get back to the tiller, Pip.' Rosina put her tea down on the floor and scrambled to her feet. 'My pa showed me how to read a chart, but it was a long time ago. I hope I can remember what to look for.'

'My Artie said he always followed his nose,' Caddie said, seemingly unworried. 'Said he could smell land, and he knew by the different scents along the way exactly where they was.'

Pip tapped his crooked nose. 'Mine only goes round corners, missis.' He roared with laughter at his own joke, and shambled out of the cabin.

Rosina took a chart from the drawer and spread it out on the top of the chest. 'I should have studied this last night. We can't afford to go wrong now, Caddie. Everything depends on this trip. Absolutely everything.'

Somehow, more by luck than good judgement, they reached their destination and while the foul-smelling cargo was being unloaded they were able to snatch a few hours' rest. Rosina gave Pip some money and he went ashore to buy provisions, since all they had had to eat since leaving Limehouse Hole was stale bread scraped with a little jam.

As she watched the last of the cargo being shovelled into buckets and hoisted ashore, Rosina turned to Caddy with a sigh of relief. 'We've done it, and in good time. We'll set sail as soon as we've had something to eat.'

'But, Rosie, Pip must be tired out. He needs some sleep.'

Rosina hardened her heart. 'He said he could do it, and our whole future depends on getting back to London in good time. Mr Gilks won't have any sympathy for aching backs or groaning muscles. I'm prepared to stay up all night and help him, and so must you.'

Caddie stared at her wide-eyed. 'I never knew you could be so hard.'

'I'm not normally, but I'm learning fast. If you want to be able to feed and clothe your children, and give them a decent home, then you'll go along with what I say. Otherwise, it will be the workhouse for us all.'

It was dark by the time they arrived back at Duke's Wharf. Pip steered the barge alongside, taking the space vacated by a fully loaded vessel. The foreman watched them from the wharf. Tired and aching in every joint, with her bones feeling so brittle that they might snap at any moment, Rosina climbed up the ladder to meet him.

'So, you've done it then, miss.' The foreman looked her up and down, as though assessing her worth. 'Didn't think you'd make it though.'

'Well, mister, we did. And I require payment.'

'You'll get your money like the rest of them, from the counting house, office hours only. And you've only done half what Mr Gilks said you was to do.'

Rosina stared at him in horror. 'No, I agreed one load at half the going rate.'

'And you've taken only half a load. You'll need to do a quick turn about.'

'Is anything wrong, Rosie?' Caddie had come up the ladder behind her and was standing at her elbow.