Rosa's Island (32 page)

She nodded. You know that he loves you, his mother had said with her dying breath. He will make up for what has gone before if you will let him. But what had gone before? She didn't know. She only knew that there was a void, an emptiness within her. She felt tears pricking her eyes, but she mustn't cry. It wasn't the time for crying, for she never did. She also knew that it wasn't the time for Matthew to speak out or her to respond. There would be a right time, but it wasn't now. There would be other issues, other circumstances to unfold first. She didn't know what they were and didn't understand the consciousness within her. It was some instinct, a presentiment perhaps, that they must wait, and she felt that Matthew understood that too.

‘Please. Don't go.'

There was a sound behind them and as they looked up, Delia was on the stairs staring down at them. ‘What's going on?' she demanded.

‘Nothing that concerns you, Delia.' Matthew's words, though blunt, were not unfriendly.

She stepped into the room. ‘Is she going behind my back about something?' Then she saw Matthew's hands still holding Rosa's, and looked from one to the other. ‘You're not planning owt?' She addressed Rosa. ‘I know you've allus been after Matthew. But he's too good for you. You're not worthy of him!'

There was hostility written on Delia's face and Rosa tried to release her hands from Matthew's grasp, but he held them fast.

‘Don't say things like that, Delia,' he admonished harshly. ‘Rosa is worthy of a better man than me.'

Delia sneered. ‘She's allus wanted you. She wants our farm and that's how she thinks she'll get it. Through you. She thinks she belongs here. Well, she doesn't. She's a foreigner, like her father was.'

That hurt Rosa and she drew in a breath before saying, ‘I belong on Sunk Island, just as you do, Delia. My father was foreign, but I was born here, as my mother was and my gran and grandfather and generations before them.'

As she spoke she felt an empathy with those past generations who had come to this once waterlogged land and who had sweated and died in their efforts to make it cultivated and habitable, and she wasn't sure that Delia even thought about that or would understand it. But Matthew did, of that she was sure.

‘It doesn't make any difference,' Delia glared at her, ‘whether you were born here or not! It doesn't make you entitled to it. It's good land,
that's why folks want it. If they can stand the isolation and solitude they can make a good living out here, and that's what you're after.'

‘You're wrong, Delia,' Matthew interrupted, his voice sharp. ‘You don't have a feeling for Sunk Island and that's why you went away. You wouldn't have come back if you hadn't been in trouble and needed help.'

‘I went away because of her,' Delia said bitterly. ‘I knew I couldn't stop under 'same roof. I had to get away.'

Rosa pulled her hands from Matthew's grasp. ‘But why, Delia?' she appealed. ‘What did I do? Your ma and da took me in when I was only a child. Why do you feel this way?'

Delia stared at her with hatred in her eyes, then her face started to crumple. ‘I haven't got anybody,' she grieved. ‘I was youngest and expected to tag along after everybody else. But Matthew was my friend. At least he was until you came along, then he forgot about me and it was Rosa this and Rosa that, and it didn't matter about me any more.'

‘I don't understand,' Matthew said. ‘You had all of us, me, Henry, Jim, four sisters – Rosa was the one who had nobody else.'

‘But you were 'onny one who took any notice of me.' She sniffled and her eyes filled with tears. ‘I was just a nuisance to everybody else. A runt,' she declared hotly. ‘An unwanted bairn, even by Ma.'

‘That's unfair, Delia,' Rosa broke in. ‘Your ma loved all of her children. Even me.'

‘Aye, and that was 'worst of it! I saw that she
was fond of you and I saw from 'start that she was making plans for you and Matthew.' She wiped her eyes. ‘And I couldn't bear that. Matthew was
my
brother,
my
friend, and
you
, who I hated, were taking him away from me.'

ROSA LAY FULLY
dressed on her bed until midnight. How could she resolve this impasse with Delia? One of them would have to leave, and Matthew had said to her, when Delia had turned her back on them and run upstairs, that if she, Rosa, should think of leaving, then he would follow her.

She gave a great sigh. I'll have to talk to Gran, she thought. She's old and wise, she'll know what I should do. Unable to sleep, she rose from the bed and stood by the window. The mist was lifting, swirling around the yard as the breeze caught it. It hung over the roof of the barn, hovered cobweb-like across the tiles and, drifting down to the orchard, floated over the tops of the old apple trees. From the river she could hear the haunting cry of ships' hooters reaching out in warning and she suddenly thought of the Dutch fluyt, moored out in the Humber, and again wondered why it was there.

I'm curious. I'll go! I'll go right now to see if it's still there. It's not so dark now that the mist is lifting. I'm wide awake, I'll not sleep if I get into
bed. She argued with herself as to why she should go. It was no business of hers, there were ships up and down the river all the time. What was so special about this one? But it
was
special. She felt strongly that it was, and not least because she was sure that it had been Mr Drew and Jim and one of the Byrne brothers who had been at Stone Creek, also looking towards it.

She put on her shawl and another pair of warm stockings and stealthily crept downstairs and into the kitchen, where her cloak was hanging behind the door. She put it on and another shawl around her head, and laced up her boots.

The door was still unfastened and she hoped that no-one would lock her out. The door creaked as she opened it and she stood and listened for a moment. It was quiet, no sound of movement from upstairs, and she wondered if Matthew had been able to sleep after the dispute with Delia.

The hens in the coop stirred and cackled quietly as she went past and the dogs, tied up in their kennels, thumped their tails slowly and sleepily. She bent down to pat their heads and moved on quietly until she reached the gate, which was open, and hurried along the familiar path by the side of the dyke towards the river.

She was breathless by the time she reached it for she had half run, half scurried in her eagerness to get there. The ship was still moored, silent, with the mist drifting about it and the water slapping against the hull, and no sign of life on board but a low light showing on deck, to warn other shipping of its presence. A red flag
with a white circle in the centre flew from the masthead, but she didn't know what it represented.

What was I expecting? she wondered. Why have I come? She looked down towards the creek and her attention was caught by another ship, a cutter, moored on the edge of the tiny harbour with no light showing, and a coggy boat low in the water, being rowed away from it towards the shore. As she watched, she heard the rattle of chain on a capstan, the anchor on the cutter was hauled and the vessel prepared to make sail. Two seamen were at the midships wheel and they steered a course to give a wide berth to the Dutch fluyt which rode gently on the current.

She climbed down from the embankment and walked below it, along the edge of the fields towards the creek. The ground was muddy and pulled squelchily at her boots, yet she plodded on. Who was rowing the coggy boat, she wondered, and why at this time of night? It had to be illegal, and smuggling was the first thing that came to her mind. Was this why my father came to Sunk Island? And if so, why did he choose to come here and not the port of Hull?

The ground was becoming more marshy and the water was lapping up to her ankles. She knew that she would soon have to stop and climb the embankment again and risk being seen by whoever was down by the water's edge. She scrambled up on her hands and knees and peered towards the harbour. Three men with their backs to her were unloading goods from the coggy boat and, judging by the number of crates
that were already stacked there, they had unloaded more than one consignment. Now they were lifting barrels off the coggy boat and transferring them to a nearby waggon.

She crouched, better to see the activity, and drew in her breath as they turned their heads. James Drew was one of the men, Jim was another and the third, she was sure, was Seamus Byrne.

‘Well, little lady. Have you seen enough?' a voice whispered in her ear and she gave a sudden cry of fright as John Byrne grabbed her around the waist.

‘Oh! You frightened me!' Her heart hammered furiously and she tried to pull his hands away from her waist. ‘Let go of me, please.'

He lifted her to her feet and turned her so that she was facing him. ‘Not until you tell me why you are here,' he said softly. ‘You're spying I think?'

‘No.' She caught her breath. ‘I'm not. I wasn't.'

He gave a little chuckle. ‘You wanted to know what your precious Drew family were up to, didn't you? You were curious about this pious, God-fearing, hypocritical preacher by the name of James Drew, and his lily-livered son, weren't you?'

Before she could deny it, he brought her closer to him and stared down into her eyes. ‘Is Jim your lover? Is that why you were watching? Did you wonder what he got up to at night when he should be sleeping the sleep of the just?'

‘No! No. How dare you! Let go of me.' She struggled to get out of his grasp, but he held her fast.

‘I told you. I'll let you go when you tell me why you are here. If it is not curiosity, then what is it? Hah!' His eyes lit up with a sinister light. ‘You want to be part of it, don't you? You want some of the excitement! You're tired of the mundane life you are leading!'

‘No. No. No!' She raised her voice. ‘If you must know I came to look at 'ship out yonder.'

‘The ship?' A wariness came into his voice.

‘Yes.' The word came out in a sob. ‘The Dutch fluyt. I wondered why it was here. I've seen it before.'

His fingers eased on her waist and she pulled away a little. ‘It's an old ship,' she started to explain, but he interrupted her.

‘I know it's an old ship, but how do you know it?' His words were rough and demanding.

‘I – I've seen it here before,' she said. ‘I saw it for 'first time when I was just a child. Henry told me that it was a Dutch fluyt.'

‘Henry?'

‘Jim's brother. He's dead now. He drowned in a dyke.'

‘Ah, yes.' He dismissed Henry with a shrug. ‘When did you next see it?'

It was when I was with Matthew, she remembered. When he insisted that we went walking because I said I was missing the river. ‘It was a while ago,' she said. ‘Just before I met you and your brother at Hawkins Point.'

‘Hmm.' His eyes pierced into hers. ‘Do you know whose ship it is?'

She shook her head. ‘No! Why should I? I know nothing about ships.'

He gave a cynical smile. ‘Even though your father was a sailor?'

Her eyes opened wide. ‘I don't know if he was a sailor,' she said. ‘I only know that you told me that he was a smuggler! You probably know more about him than I do. He's a mystery to me and to others on Sunk Island.'

‘But not to James Drew or his son?'

‘I believe that they met him, yes. But they don't talk about him.'

‘And they don't talk about his ship? The ship that was confiscated with me and my brother and the run goods on board!'

As he spoke he turned towards the river and the fluyt, which was clearer to see now that the mist was lifting. Rosa glanced at him and saw how his eyes narrowed as he gazed at the vessel.

She drew in a breath. ‘What are you trying to say? That isn't—? But how? If it was—' Her words dried up. Was this why she had such a strange sensation each time she had seen the ship?

‘That's it, all right. I'd know it anywhere, I spent enough time on it.' His voice dropped. ‘I loved that ship as if it was my very own.' He nodded his head as if lost in thought, then said, ‘Revenue men must have sold it on, probably to a foreign buyer. But now it's back on its old hunting ground, but who, I wonder, is its captain?'

She gazed across at it. Was it true what he said? Could she believe him? Was this really once her father's ship? She felt her lips trembling and she was full of emotion, but she was suddenly rudely jostled by Byrne, who took her arm and marched her along the embankment.

‘Come on, enough of this reminiscing,' and she knew that he was speaking of his own memories and not of hers. ‘We'll go and meet the rest of the family.'

Jim and James Drew straightened up and looked round as John Byrne approached, then, as Jim saw who was with him, being so roughly mishandled, he charged forward.

‘What do you think you're doing,' he yelled. ‘Get off her! Let her go.'

Byrne gave a mocking smile and kept hold of Rosa's arm. ‘Yours, is she, Jim? She's just denied it!' But his words were cut short as Jim hurled himself towards him and aimed a blow at his face. Rosa fell to the ground as Byrne released his grip, but was brought to her feet by Seamus Byrne who surveyed her coldly, no ready smile in his eyes as there had been on other occasions when he had greeted her. James Drew just stood as if made of stone, his hand on a wooden cask.

‘You beggarly heathen!' Jim aimed another blow at John Byrne, who retaliated with a fist to his chin. ‘Why bring her into it? I warned you before.'

Seamus Byrne stepped aside from Rosa and with a swift movement made to separate the brawling men. He put his arms between them, a hand on each chest, and said quietly, ‘Will you leave your fighting till we get this stuff away! It'll be light before long and the fishermen will be here.'