end of November Joe signed on a small freighter for a short trip to Hamburg. He broke the news to Cat and Mrs Travis
simultaneously, preferring to face the hurt of one and the wrath of the other at the same time.
‘So when do you sail?’ Mrs Travis did not appear to be too angry; in fact she seemed to be taking the matter complacently.
‘Day after tomorrow.’
‘And how much are they going to pay you and what prospects are there for the future?’
‘The wage is a bit more than you pay me and as for prospects, well . . . they did say if I suited they may sign me on again.’
‘So it’s for one trip only? A trial period? No firm promise?’
‘No. But that’s not unusual.’
‘Not for small-time tramp steamers. It would be different for a reputable line such as Ellermans or the City Line.’
He flushed, knowing what she meant.
Cat had remained silent, her eyes downcast.
‘And if they don’t keep you on, what then?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’ He couldn’t maintain his composure any longer. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t help it! There’s a passion
for the sea that was born in me – me Dad and brothers are merchant seamen! I just can’t help it!’
The old lady’s eyes strayed to the framed photograph that hung above the mantelpiece. A portrait of a stern-looking man with
a full beard and moustache, in the old-fashioned uniform of a merchant captain. She sighed. ‘Someone else once told me the
same thing. We’ll miss you, Joe. Now, I have some letters to write.’ And with a wave of her hand she dismissed them both,
but as he reached the door she spoke again. ‘Will you be back in time for Christmas?’
‘Yes. A week before, I hope.’
‘Then we’ll see you then and if they don’t keep you on, I’ll keep your job open until the New Year.’
‘Why couldn’t you have told me first!’ Cat demanded when they reached the seclusion of the kitchen.
‘Because . . . because, well, I didn’t want to upset you!’
‘You mean because you were afraid to! You know I don’t want you to go!’
‘I’m not afraid of any woman and you knew sooner or later I’d go! You know how I’ve tried and tried to get a ship!’
She turned away but he placed his hands on her shoulders. ‘She understands, why can’t you?’
‘Because I’m not like her, that’s why! I . . . I’ve onlygot my Ma and you . . . that I care about anyway, and now . . .’
‘It’s only for a couple of weeks, Cat! I’ll be back before Christmas and I’ll bring you something really nice and we’ll go
out on the town, and—’
‘I don’t want your presents! I won’t be fobbed off with presents and promises!’
‘I thought you cared for me, Cat?’
‘I do!’
‘Then stop yelling at me! Can’t you be happy for me?’
Her face crumpled and he gathered her into his arms. ‘It’s only a couple of weeks, I’ll be back before you know it!’
She hadn’t gone to see him off and the day he sailed Mrs Travis called her into the parlour.
‘So, he’s gone?’
Cat nodded and picked at the edge of the duster she was holding.
‘Put that away and sit down.’
She stuffed the cloth into the pocket of her pinafore and sat on the edge of the Chesterfield.
‘How old are you, Catherine?’
‘Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen next June.’
‘With your whole life ahead of you. Oh, how I envy you, Catherine.’
Cat fidgeted, wondering where this conversation was leading. It was obvious she hadn’t been called in for just a chat.
‘You’re fond of Joe, aren’t you?’
She nodded miserably. She missed him already.
‘And how is your mother?’
The change of subject startled her; she was expecting a homily on etiquette. ‘She’s coming along very nicely now, thank you.’
‘Good.’ The old lady fingered the brooch at the neck of her dress. A brooch in the shape of a ship’s wheel. A brooch she was
particularly fond of. ‘Take my advice, my dear, don’t marry a sailor!’
‘Oh, Joe
simultaneously, preferring to face the hurt of one and the wrath of the other at the same time.
‘So when do you sail?’ Mrs Travis did not appear to be too angry; in fact she seemed to be taking the matter complacently.
‘Day after tomorrow.’
‘And how much are they going to pay you and what prospects are there for the future?’
‘The wage is a bit more than you pay me and as for prospects, well . . . they did say if I suited they may sign me on again.’
‘So it’s for one trip only? A trial period? No firm promise?’
‘No. But that’s not unusual.’
‘Not for small-time tramp steamers. It would be different for a reputable line such as Ellermans or the City Line.’
He flushed, knowing what she meant.
Cat had remained silent, her eyes downcast.
‘And if they don’t keep you on, what then?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’ He couldn’t maintain his composure any longer. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t help it! There’s a passion
for the sea that was born in me – me Dad and brothers are merchant seamen! I just can’t help it!’
The old lady’s eyes strayed to the framed photograph that hung above the mantelpiece. A portrait of a stern-looking man with
a full beard and moustache, in the old-fashioned uniform of a merchant captain. She sighed. ‘Someone else once told me the
same thing. We’ll miss you, Joe. Now, I have some letters to write.’ And with a wave of her hand she dismissed them both,
but as he reached the door she spoke again. ‘Will you be back in time for Christmas?’
‘Yes. A week before, I hope.’
‘Then we’ll see you then and if they don’t keep you on, I’ll keep your job open until the New Year.’
‘Why couldn’t you have told me first!’ Cat demanded when they reached the seclusion of the kitchen.
‘Because . . . because, well, I didn’t want to upset you!’
‘You mean because you were afraid to! You know I don’t want you to go!’
‘I’m not afraid of any woman and you knew sooner or later I’d go! You know how I’ve tried and tried to get a ship!’
She turned away but he placed his hands on her shoulders. ‘She understands, why can’t you?’
‘Because I’m not like her, that’s why! I . . . I’ve onlygot my Ma and you . . . that I care about anyway, and now . . .’
‘It’s only for a couple of weeks, Cat! I’ll be back before Christmas and I’ll bring you something really nice and we’ll go
out on the town, and—’
‘I don’t want your presents! I won’t be fobbed off with presents and promises!’
‘I thought you cared for me, Cat?’
‘I do!’
‘Then stop yelling at me! Can’t you be happy for me?’
Her face crumpled and he gathered her into his arms. ‘It’s only a couple of weeks, I’ll be back before you know it!’
She hadn’t gone to see him off and the day he sailed Mrs Travis called her into the parlour.
‘So, he’s gone?’
Cat nodded and picked at the edge of the duster she was holding.
‘Put that away and sit down.’
She stuffed the cloth into the pocket of her pinafore and sat on the edge of the Chesterfield.
‘How old are you, Catherine?’
‘Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen next June.’
‘With your whole life ahead of you. Oh, how I envy you, Catherine.’
Cat fidgeted, wondering where this conversation was leading. It was obvious she hadn’t been called in for just a chat.
‘You’re fond of Joe, aren’t you?’
She nodded miserably. She missed him already.
‘And how is your mother?’
The change of subject startled her; she was expecting a homily on etiquette. ‘She’s coming along very nicely now, thank you.’
‘Good.’ The old lady fingered the brooch at the neck of her dress. A brooch in the shape of a ship’s wheel. A brooch she was
particularly fond of. ‘Take my advice, my dear, don’t marry a sailor!’
‘Oh, Joe
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