'How long does it take to get your sea-legs?' I asked the grinning Arkwright.
'Maybe hours, maybe days,' he answered, while I gasped for air. 'Some poor folk never find them properly. Let's hope you're one of the lucky ones, Master Ward!'
'Going below deck now, Tom,' Alice told me. 'Sailors don't like women on board at the best of times. Think it's bad luck. I'd better get out of sight.'
'No, stay up here, Alice. Mam chartered this ship – they'll just have to put up with it!'
But Alice insisted. I tried going below with her but the witches were not coping well with the rolling motion. Down in the gloom the stench of vomit was so strong that I quickly fled back up to the fresh air. That night, taking Arkwright's advice, I slept in a hammock under the stars while we headed south down the coast. By dawn I hadn't exactly got my sea-legs but I was feeling considerably better and was able to observe the crew as they fearlessly climbed the rigging and adjusted the sails. They had no time for us – it was as if we didn't exist – but I didn't mind: they were always busy, and when the ship was rolling or pitching badly, it was a dangerous job for those perched high on the masts.
Arkwright knew a lot about seafaring, having made quite a few trips along the coast in his army days. He told me the names of the various parts of the ship: that the left side was called 'port', the right side 'starboard'; and that 'fore' was the front of the boat and 'aft' the rear. My dad had been a sailor, so I knew most of what he was telling me already, but he'd also taught me manners so I listened politely to everything he had to say.
'County ships are always given the names of women,' he explained. 'Take "Celeste", the name of this one. As your study of Latin should tell you, Master Ward, it means heavenly, and no doubt some women are. But in a big storm a ship can be very unforgiving if she's not handled correctly and treated with respect. Some waves can be the size of a cathedral; they can roll a ship like this over and swallow her up. Ships go missing at sea, lost with all their crew. It happens all the time. It's a hard life being a sailor – in its own way just as tough as being a spook.'
We had now sailed into the mouth of a big river called the Mersey, and there, at anchor, we waited for the tide. We hadn't left the County behind yet, it seemed. We were to put in briefly at Liverpool to take on additional supplies.
Unlike Sunderland Point, Liverpool had a large wooden quay where the Celeste could berth. Most of us took the opportunity to stretch our legs, but the witches stayed down in the hold. When I set foot on the quayside, I experienced a strange sensation – although I was standing on solid ground, it still seemed to be moving under my feet.
We waited about while the stevedores busied themselves loading up our provisions so that we could leave on the same tide. It was either that or be delayed until nearly nightfall.
Back on board, I stood beside Mam as the crew untied the ship from her moorings. She had sought the shade of the mainmast and kept shielding her eyes against the sun and staring into the distance as if expecting to see something. I followed the direction of her gaze, and out of the corner of my eye saw her face suddenly light up into a smile.
Someone was running towards us. And to my astonishment I saw that it was my master! He was carrying his bag and staff and his cloak was billowing out behind him. But the Celeste was already moving away from the quay, the gap widening with every second. The Spook threw his bag and staff towards us. They landed on the deck and I quickly retrieved them while he eyed the gap uncertainly. It was then that Mam stepped forward and beckoned him towards the ship.
He turned instantly, ran back a little way, then sprinted straight for the edge of the quay. My heart was in my mouth. It seemed impossible that he could leap such a distance. But leap he did: his boots landed on the very edge of the deck, where he tottered and started to fall backwards.
Mam stepped forward and grasped his wrist, then steadied him before pulling him forward to safety. He seemed to fall into her arms as if they'd embraced, but it was just the movement of the ship. He stepped back a little and gave her a little bow before coming towards me. I thought he had something to say to me, but he picked up his bag and staff and headed for the steps down to the hold – without even glancing at me.
'I'm glad you're coming with us!' I called after him.
He didn't so much as turn round.
'Is he angry with me, Mam?' I asked.
'More like angry with himself,' she replied. 'Give him time. But for now I doubt he'll wish to be your master.'
'For now? Do you mean that I'll be his apprentice again one day?'
'It could happen but it's far from certain.'
A silence fell between us, and we could hear the shouts of the crew as they brought the Celeste through the mouth of the harbour and out into the estuary, heading for the open sea. She was beginning to roll again, and squawking seagulls followed in our wake.
'Why do you think he changed his mind, Mam?'
'John Gregory is a brave man who always puts duty above personal needs and wishes. And that is exactly what he's done on this occasion. He's seen what his higher duty is and placed it above his own beliefs. But he's been forced to sacrifice some of his principles, and for a man like him, that's very hard.'
Despite what Mam said, I wasn't totally convinced that it was only that. The Spook had always maintained that you couldn't make alliances with servants of the dark. Something else must have changed his mind – I felt sure of it.
Chapter 8
THE YOUNG LADIES
The days passed and we continued south, always keeping the coast in sight. Once a storm threatened and we put into port for shelter, but mainly the weather was sunny, with a good following wind. Then, as we sailed away from the cliffs of our homeland, preparing to cross the Channel, I could hear what sounded like thunder in the distance.
'Another storm?' I asked.
Bill Arkwright shook his head and frowned. 'No, Master Ward, those are big guns. Eighteen-pounders if I'm not mistaken. There's a big battle taking place close to the sea. Let's hope it's going our way.'
The invader came from an alliance of countries to the east and southeast of our island. It was strange to be so close to the battlefront yet be sailing beyond it into open sea.
After completing our crossing of the Channel, we sailed straight into a big storm in the Bay of Biscay. Thunder cracked and boomed overhead like the cannon-shot we'd heard previously, and forked lightning rent the sky, the ship tossed hither and thither upon the furious foam-flecked sea. I wasn't the only one who feared that we would drown, but the crew took it in their stride and we sailed on into calmer waters, the air growing warmer by the day.