longitude. He got quite carried away before he noticed the bewildered looks on some faces. He really would have to get to know more of their names.
‘Will you be going home, sir?’
Before he had time to answer a girl said, ‘My brother is coming out to me.’
The others turned their heads to her and it was hard to judge whether their communal look was one of envy or scepticism. Charles began to roll the map. There was a murmur of disappointment, which could have come from a desire to still place themselves on the map. Or from annoyance that the respite from routine was broken.
‘I’ll bring it again,’ he said.
That night after bedtime when the noises had subsided, Charles walked on deck. He looked out to sea to where he fancied he could see flickering lights and candles on the island. It might have been nice to stop, to get one’s feet on the ground, even briefly. To let the boat nestle in the dock, where the workers, unhampered by the temper of the weather, could tidy up its loose ends, patch up its injuries and get ready for the next lot of seafaring. But that might be too hard on these girls, too hard for some of them to come back on board. He watched the lights until they were tiny stars thrown on the edge of the ocean. It took some time for this fading to happen. Then the dark around him thickened and the only lights to be seen were the ones still lit on the deck. He thought he heard a noise and wondered if perhaps it was a girl out looking too, without permission. Still, if it was, she was quiet. He turned his back on the sea and headed into his room where he thought he would have a drink. He passed Honora but didn’t see her. She had slipped out from the darkness below, unable to turn into sleep. She rolled herself into a small bundle under the ropes and looked up through them. She wanted to believe this was the same sky that was over the home she had just glimpsed on the map, the one she had been taken from and would never see again. That became clear the more days passed. Who could ever come back from so far? If she could believe it was the same sky surely that would help. It would be good to get a map too.
CHAPTER 9
On the following morning Charles called the girls together to begin the first washing day. He knew it would throw up its own difficulties, but then every new ritual had to find its feet. This was the opportunity to have one of the main lessons of order taught. Here are the rules …
‘Here we go again.’
That would be Julia. He could see that some of the other girls also found the rules harsh. A sulky look came over some, but they put it away from their faces when Charles looked them in the eye. Maybe he had a point about slopping water and people falling.
‘If we fell and hurt ourselves we could not come up here at all. We’d be stuck down below all day,’ Anne Sherry said.
The second washing day went more smoothly, girls even appearing to have moments of satisfaction with their completed tasks. But there was still work to be done to get the ritual flowing better. He had decided he would postpone taking up their trunks from the hold for examination—a few more successful washings would need to be achieved first. They would have to learn order before that happened.
When the men did lug up the boxes, and when the girls saw their names still there despite the sea, a few of them cried and others used that to cry as well. Sometimes it was good to have something to start crying about. Julia never cried—she wouldn’t satisfy them, she thought. She couldn’t figure out who ‘them’ was, but she wouldn’t satisfy them no matter who they were.
They tripped in the small spaces left between the boxes. They examined their clothes and found out from each other how best to banish mildew. Seeing their belongings and unfaded names gave them a boost, which matured as the day wore on.
Then Bridget Joyce saw her bird again. She saw it every morning and most evenings.
‘Look, it’s the
‘Will you be going home, sir?’
Before he had time to answer a girl said, ‘My brother is coming out to me.’
The others turned their heads to her and it was hard to judge whether their communal look was one of envy or scepticism. Charles began to roll the map. There was a murmur of disappointment, which could have come from a desire to still place themselves on the map. Or from annoyance that the respite from routine was broken.
‘I’ll bring it again,’ he said.
That night after bedtime when the noises had subsided, Charles walked on deck. He looked out to sea to where he fancied he could see flickering lights and candles on the island. It might have been nice to stop, to get one’s feet on the ground, even briefly. To let the boat nestle in the dock, where the workers, unhampered by the temper of the weather, could tidy up its loose ends, patch up its injuries and get ready for the next lot of seafaring. But that might be too hard on these girls, too hard for some of them to come back on board. He watched the lights until they were tiny stars thrown on the edge of the ocean. It took some time for this fading to happen. Then the dark around him thickened and the only lights to be seen were the ones still lit on the deck. He thought he heard a noise and wondered if perhaps it was a girl out looking too, without permission. Still, if it was, she was quiet. He turned his back on the sea and headed into his room where he thought he would have a drink. He passed Honora but didn’t see her. She had slipped out from the darkness below, unable to turn into sleep. She rolled herself into a small bundle under the ropes and looked up through them. She wanted to believe this was the same sky that was over the home she had just glimpsed on the map, the one she had been taken from and would never see again. That became clear the more days passed. Who could ever come back from so far? If she could believe it was the same sky surely that would help. It would be good to get a map too.
CHAPTER 9
On the following morning Charles called the girls together to begin the first washing day. He knew it would throw up its own difficulties, but then every new ritual had to find its feet. This was the opportunity to have one of the main lessons of order taught. Here are the rules …
‘Here we go again.’
That would be Julia. He could see that some of the other girls also found the rules harsh. A sulky look came over some, but they put it away from their faces when Charles looked them in the eye. Maybe he had a point about slopping water and people falling.
‘If we fell and hurt ourselves we could not come up here at all. We’d be stuck down below all day,’ Anne Sherry said.
The second washing day went more smoothly, girls even appearing to have moments of satisfaction with their completed tasks. But there was still work to be done to get the ritual flowing better. He had decided he would postpone taking up their trunks from the hold for examination—a few more successful washings would need to be achieved first. They would have to learn order before that happened.
When the men did lug up the boxes, and when the girls saw their names still there despite the sea, a few of them cried and others used that to cry as well. Sometimes it was good to have something to start crying about. Julia never cried—she wouldn’t satisfy them, she thought. She couldn’t figure out who ‘them’ was, but she wouldn’t satisfy them no matter who they were.
They tripped in the small spaces left between the boxes. They examined their clothes and found out from each other how best to banish mildew. Seeing their belongings and unfaded names gave them a boost, which matured as the day wore on.
Then Bridget Joyce saw her bird again. She saw it every morning and most evenings.
‘Look, it’s the
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