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Authors: Morgan Llywelyn
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with marvellous agility and disappeared over the rail. The others waited below.
Tom was aware of the bulk of the ship looming above him. The caravel had a voice of its own. It groaned and muttered like an old man who could not get comfortable in his bed. From somewhere deep in its bowels came a rumbling noise.
Time passed. The men waiting in the currach heard human voices above them, though they could not make out the words. Someone held a lantern aloft and peered over the side. The light lasted only for a few moments before it was withdrawn.
More time passed. Then – ‘Ready below?’ Muiris called down.
‘Ready,’ Séamus answered crisply.
A loaded cargo net was swung over the side of the ship and lowered, swinging, toward the water. Séamus and Fergal prepared to pull it into the boat. Tom was faster. He leaped to his feet and tried to catch hold of the net himself.
The currach promptly rolled sideways, in the direction of the waiting ship. Tom frantically cartwheeled his arms in the air to regain his balance.
He failed.
The icy water waited below. The caravel was so close it looked like crushing him. He tried to throw himself back into the boat, but his weight was too far committed in the other direction. He felt himself going, going ….
A strong hand caught him by the back of his collar and pulled him to safety.
‘ Amadán !’ scolded Fergal. ‘What are you doing at all?’
‘Trying to help,’ Tom panted.
‘You can help by following instructions. Sit down there and wait,’ said Séamus.
Tom sat.
The two men eased the loaded cargo net into the middle of the boat. When it was settled, Fergal whistled two short notes. The lantern was held over the rail again. ‘Is there any more?’ Fergal called up.
‘One more. Mind yourselves now.’
‘Sit still, Tomás,’ Séamus repeated, unnecessarily. Tom was folded in upon himself, too ashamed to move.
When the second net reached the currach the two men settled it behind the first. Séamus told Tom, ‘Ease towards the stern now while we open the nets.’
Tom needed all of his courage to obey. The slightest movement of the currach made his stomach turn over. When he reached the stern, Séamus said, ‘I will hand you boxes from one of the nets. Arrange them in the bottom of the boat. The lightest in the front, the heavier ones behind.’
In near darkness, Tom obeyed. The boxes were of different shapes and sizes. Some rattled when he lifted them. ‘What’s in these?’
‘Spices and palm oil,’ said Fergal, ‘from the West Indies. We have jugs of black rum, too. They go in the centre of the boat.’
‘What is black rum?’
‘The sweetest drink you could ever taste, Tomás, except you won’t be tasting this lot. Neither will the men who are expecting it. Their shipment seems to have come up short.’
The two men cackled with laughter.
When the nets were empty and their contents stowed in the currach, Fergal gave another sharp whistle. Unseen hands hauled the empty nets back up to the deck of the ship. Moments later, Muiris and Seán climbed down the rope ladder and into their boat.
‘Good job, lads,’ Muiris remarked as they rowed away from the ship.
Tom expected Séamus to tell his brother about Tom’s disobedience. When he said nothing, the boy threw him a grateful glance – which Séamus could not see in the dark.
After a few minutes Tom remarked, ‘You didn’t really needme, Muiris. You had enough men already.’
‘Enough for this job, perhaps, but there will be other times when we do need help. It is important that you have experience .’
‘I’ve had plenty of experience tonight,’ Tom said truthfully.
The currach travelled on. Ploughing the rough sea, under the silent stars.
‘Did you pay the captain?’ Fergal asked Muiris.
‘I did, of course. I paid him exactly what we had agreed. He thought he should have more, but …’
‘You made him think again.’
‘I made him think again,’ said Muiris. ‘We will
Tom was aware of the bulk of the ship looming above him. The caravel had a voice of its own. It groaned and muttered like an old man who could not get comfortable in his bed. From somewhere deep in its bowels came a rumbling noise.
Time passed. The men waiting in the currach heard human voices above them, though they could not make out the words. Someone held a lantern aloft and peered over the side. The light lasted only for a few moments before it was withdrawn.
More time passed. Then – ‘Ready below?’ Muiris called down.
‘Ready,’ Séamus answered crisply.
A loaded cargo net was swung over the side of the ship and lowered, swinging, toward the water. Séamus and Fergal prepared to pull it into the boat. Tom was faster. He leaped to his feet and tried to catch hold of the net himself.
The currach promptly rolled sideways, in the direction of the waiting ship. Tom frantically cartwheeled his arms in the air to regain his balance.
He failed.
The icy water waited below. The caravel was so close it looked like crushing him. He tried to throw himself back into the boat, but his weight was too far committed in the other direction. He felt himself going, going ….
A strong hand caught him by the back of his collar and pulled him to safety.
‘ Amadán !’ scolded Fergal. ‘What are you doing at all?’
‘Trying to help,’ Tom panted.
‘You can help by following instructions. Sit down there and wait,’ said Séamus.
Tom sat.
The two men eased the loaded cargo net into the middle of the boat. When it was settled, Fergal whistled two short notes. The lantern was held over the rail again. ‘Is there any more?’ Fergal called up.
‘One more. Mind yourselves now.’
‘Sit still, Tomás,’ Séamus repeated, unnecessarily. Tom was folded in upon himself, too ashamed to move.
When the second net reached the currach the two men settled it behind the first. Séamus told Tom, ‘Ease towards the stern now while we open the nets.’
Tom needed all of his courage to obey. The slightest movement of the currach made his stomach turn over. When he reached the stern, Séamus said, ‘I will hand you boxes from one of the nets. Arrange them in the bottom of the boat. The lightest in the front, the heavier ones behind.’
In near darkness, Tom obeyed. The boxes were of different shapes and sizes. Some rattled when he lifted them. ‘What’s in these?’
‘Spices and palm oil,’ said Fergal, ‘from the West Indies. We have jugs of black rum, too. They go in the centre of the boat.’
‘What is black rum?’
‘The sweetest drink you could ever taste, Tomás, except you won’t be tasting this lot. Neither will the men who are expecting it. Their shipment seems to have come up short.’
The two men cackled with laughter.
When the nets were empty and their contents stowed in the currach, Fergal gave another sharp whistle. Unseen hands hauled the empty nets back up to the deck of the ship. Moments later, Muiris and Seán climbed down the rope ladder and into their boat.
‘Good job, lads,’ Muiris remarked as they rowed away from the ship.
Tom expected Séamus to tell his brother about Tom’s disobedience. When he said nothing, the boy threw him a grateful glance – which Séamus could not see in the dark.
After a few minutes Tom remarked, ‘You didn’t really needme, Muiris. You had enough men already.’
‘Enough for this job, perhaps, but there will be other times when we do need help. It is important that you have experience .’
‘I’ve had plenty of experience tonight,’ Tom said truthfully.
The currach travelled on. Ploughing the rough sea, under the silent stars.
‘Did you pay the captain?’ Fergal asked Muiris.
‘I did, of course. I paid him exactly what we had agreed. He thought he should have more, but …’
‘You made him think again.’
‘I made him think again,’ said Muiris. ‘We will
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