voice.
‘The
Swan’s
crew left at daybreak, lad. Best look lively!’
The man who had spoken was already casting off. Ellyn saw him throwing a rope from the stern of a little boat that could only be reached by climbing across three others. She hesitated, looking round for a helping hand or some support, but of course there was none.
The man barked at her.
‘Quicken thy sticks!’
She almost fell as she scrambled down. The first boat rocked, and she lurched. She staggered like a drunkard and clung like an infant. Laughter rang behind her until she reached the last boat, and there she quailed at the sight of the choppy sea. The man leaned across, grabbed her shoulder, hauled her over, and sent her sprawling at his feet. While he rowed she avoided his eye, but busied herself by looking in her pocket and finding the shilling she had offered to pay. She pulled a face to suggest she was indeed feeling tipsy, in the event quite easy. Once a sail was raised to catch the sharp wind, the boat bobbed violently in the waves further out, but the craft was fast. She reached the
Swan
in good time, while the lighter with her father was still lashed to the leeward chains.
Ellyn was taken to the other side feeling sick.
‘I thank you, good sir,’ she mumbled, paid the boatman, stood, toppled and was unceremoniously shoved into a sling that pulled her up to the deck as effectively as cargo.
Fear set her shivering. She had hoped she might sneak aboard unnoticed, but plainly she would be seen as soon as the winch set her down. What would she say? Her legs felt naked without the wrapping of skirt. She was conscious of looking ridiculous. In wide-eyed panic she stared at a scene that twisted and rolled as the sling was raised then lowered. Everywhere she looked men were moving about, climbing rigging, setting sails, and gathering round to properly receive the important merchants who were boarding on the other side. Ellyn caught a glimpse of her father’s new rabbit cape, and the sort of outlandish hat-plumes she associated with vain popinjays; she had no doubt that Richard Dennys was sporting them. Only one man was close as she put her feet on the deck. But she had to speak.
‘Good—’
Her greeting was cut short.
‘Gurt below, thou clay-brained scut!’
A stinging blow to her ear sent her tumbling to her knees. The pain was so intense that tears filled her eyes. She was faint with shock. But then she became aware that whoever had hit her was probably approaching. She saw boots near her hands. She pushed up unsteadily, as startled and terror-struck as a field mouse in the open. Glancing round wildly, she tried to take in where she was. Then she did what field mice do: she made for the nearest hole her size and disappeared by squeezing inside.
8
Discovery
‘. . . They are ill discoverers that think there is no land, when they can see nothing but sea . . .’
—
From
The Advancement of Learning,
Book 2, Chapter 7, by Francis Bacon, 1 st Baron Verulam, adviser to Elizabeth I
FOR DAYS ELLYN cowered in the darkness after burrowing mole-like into the deepest nook she could find. She did not dare show herself. The mariner’s blow had made her realise the enormity of what she had done. Nothing in her upbringing had prepared her for the predicament she faced: the isolation and disorientation, and the relentless physical discomfort. Her original, rather nebulous plan had been to play the role of a galley boy who might be accepted as useful before a joyous revelation. But the viciousness of the mariner had shattered that fantasy. She was ruled by terror: the dread of brutality should she be discovered, and the fear of condemnation should she make herself known – she could barely conceive of her father’s wrath on finding out she had stowed aboard the
Swan
. Her objectives contracted down to the simple necessities of sleeping and eating, and trying to stay hidden.
Ellyn discovered where she was mainly by touch at first. But even
‘The
Swan’s
crew left at daybreak, lad. Best look lively!’
The man who had spoken was already casting off. Ellyn saw him throwing a rope from the stern of a little boat that could only be reached by climbing across three others. She hesitated, looking round for a helping hand or some support, but of course there was none.
The man barked at her.
‘Quicken thy sticks!’
She almost fell as she scrambled down. The first boat rocked, and she lurched. She staggered like a drunkard and clung like an infant. Laughter rang behind her until she reached the last boat, and there she quailed at the sight of the choppy sea. The man leaned across, grabbed her shoulder, hauled her over, and sent her sprawling at his feet. While he rowed she avoided his eye, but busied herself by looking in her pocket and finding the shilling she had offered to pay. She pulled a face to suggest she was indeed feeling tipsy, in the event quite easy. Once a sail was raised to catch the sharp wind, the boat bobbed violently in the waves further out, but the craft was fast. She reached the
Swan
in good time, while the lighter with her father was still lashed to the leeward chains.
Ellyn was taken to the other side feeling sick.
‘I thank you, good sir,’ she mumbled, paid the boatman, stood, toppled and was unceremoniously shoved into a sling that pulled her up to the deck as effectively as cargo.
Fear set her shivering. She had hoped she might sneak aboard unnoticed, but plainly she would be seen as soon as the winch set her down. What would she say? Her legs felt naked without the wrapping of skirt. She was conscious of looking ridiculous. In wide-eyed panic she stared at a scene that twisted and rolled as the sling was raised then lowered. Everywhere she looked men were moving about, climbing rigging, setting sails, and gathering round to properly receive the important merchants who were boarding on the other side. Ellyn caught a glimpse of her father’s new rabbit cape, and the sort of outlandish hat-plumes she associated with vain popinjays; she had no doubt that Richard Dennys was sporting them. Only one man was close as she put her feet on the deck. But she had to speak.
‘Good—’
Her greeting was cut short.
‘Gurt below, thou clay-brained scut!’
A stinging blow to her ear sent her tumbling to her knees. The pain was so intense that tears filled her eyes. She was faint with shock. But then she became aware that whoever had hit her was probably approaching. She saw boots near her hands. She pushed up unsteadily, as startled and terror-struck as a field mouse in the open. Glancing round wildly, she tried to take in where she was. Then she did what field mice do: she made for the nearest hole her size and disappeared by squeezing inside.
8
Discovery
‘. . . They are ill discoverers that think there is no land, when they can see nothing but sea . . .’
—
From
The Advancement of Learning,
Book 2, Chapter 7, by Francis Bacon, 1 st Baron Verulam, adviser to Elizabeth I
FOR DAYS ELLYN cowered in the darkness after burrowing mole-like into the deepest nook she could find. She did not dare show herself. The mariner’s blow had made her realise the enormity of what she had done. Nothing in her upbringing had prepared her for the predicament she faced: the isolation and disorientation, and the relentless physical discomfort. Her original, rather nebulous plan had been to play the role of a galley boy who might be accepted as useful before a joyous revelation. But the viciousness of the mariner had shattered that fantasy. She was ruled by terror: the dread of brutality should she be discovered, and the fear of condemnation should she make herself known – she could barely conceive of her father’s wrath on finding out she had stowed aboard the
Swan
. Her objectives contracted down to the simple necessities of sleeping and eating, and trying to stay hidden.
Ellyn discovered where she was mainly by touch at first. But even
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