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Cicely could see James Fillings near the top of the mast. She could not reach him, but she was damned sure she was going to be the one to get him down.
"Young!" She could hear Blakeney shouting at her to come down, but she feverishly battled on up, as the ropes dug into her hands.
"Young! Come down at once! Otherwise you'll both be killed!" Cicely looked down at the men below her. She had come to begin her pair change, but James had not been at morning mess. She had been halfway through her biscuit and fruit, when she heard shouting, and a crack of splintering wood.
Running onto the deck, she had seen disorder: men were running hither and thither, calling for more men, pointing and shouting. It appeared as if the top arm of the mainsail mast had come loose, waving the sail loose from its sheet.
"Are all free?" shouted midshipman Callumay, rushing underneath the sheet, and looking between the mastheads. "Mr. Blakeney, if you please!" Cicely hurried over to Chell, who had also been on the night watch.
"What happened?" she looked around at the men.
"The mast, it just…" He stopped as another crack brought down a piece of wood. Sailors scattered, just in time as it hit the deck with a huge thud. More crew appeared now.
"Fillings!" she heard someone yell. "He's still up there!"
Cicely hurried too, and saw her friend in danger. He was hanging by his leg, the mainsail sheet wrapped around it. Fifty feet up.
"James?" she yelled herself. "James!" He was not moving.
"The mast hit him," someone shouted.
The rest of the middies gathered round Callumay. Lamb approached Blakeney, and whispered something.
"We must get him down," said Edward, looking around. "We must..." Cicely looked at him quickly, then back at James and gasped. The second half of the cross-mast was moving now, as if threatening to join the first half. If that happened, James would go with it.
Taking to her station side of the ship, she got onto the middle sheet and began to climb, catching the ropes above her and pulling herself up feverishly.
"No!" she heard someone shout. "Don't be foolish, Hollum! Look at the mast! If someone goes up, they'll both be killed!"
"But we can't just leave him," she heard Edward shout, "we can't lose another man!"
Not after all the misfortune and bad luck the ship had been subjected to in this last week. She looked up at the mast through the haze of the baking sun. Cicely and James were the lightest crewmembers, so out of all of them, she was his best chance.
Hurrying underneath the masthead, she glanced at James, hanging limp between the sheets. She would not let her friend die, and she would have her brother know that someone respected his opinion. Using all the effort she had she began to scale the ropes.
"Young!" she heard Blakeney yell. "No, stop where you are, come back!" Cicely stopped looked down to a sea of faces so far down. She climbed the mainsail once a day, but only to check the line-end, and then, se was the slowest up and down.
Above her she heard the wood bow and creak and looked back at James. She could see his face, pale and small, with some blood leaking form his temple, and at the back. How could this have happened? The carpenter had just this week replaced it, after William Warley was lost in the Straits of Magellan, and he had been doing the job thirty years. There was no reason for it to break like that, especially in the becalmed seas they had been experiencing.
Without looking down she continued to climb, before stopping just underneath him, holding on.
"What's he think he's doing?" exclaimed Pullings to Callumay, before striding over to Aubrey. "He just climbed the sheets, sir." The captain marched over to the debris, looking up.
"Young!" Cicely looked down. If he told her to come down, she would not disobey a direct order. But she prayed that Aubrey would show himself the true leader he was by allowing her to get him.
Aubrey said nothing for a moment, and assessed the situation: that damned fool boy.
"Mowett," he said to his sailing master. "Round the men up, will you? I am not going to lose another man so soon after young Warley. We need to move this cross-mast and sever the line." He looked back up at Cicely who was beginning to tie James's clothing round her own, to secure him.
"James," whispered Cicely, up in the sheets to the unconscious boy. "It's Robert. When I get you down, the doctor can take a look at your head." She took hold of the rope, and pulled it to one side, to release his leg. She gripped him round his waist, draping his floppy limbs round her neck and interlinking his fingers.
But the sheet hadn't moved completely, and it was still attached round his foot. Worse still, she could hear the wood around her bend and creak in the cold wind. Without looking down, she unlocked his fingers. He was still attached to her clothing, but Cicely could climb a bit higher to release his foot.
"Young!" yelled Aubrey, "we're going to shift the other half. Then his leg will be free. Do you understand?" She looked down and tried to nod. Cicely hoped they could see her, as she held onto James.
"One, two, three…heave!" she heard Mowett shout at the sailors below. The mast moved to one side, and the sheet round James's foot was released. This meant she could now clamp his fingers together round her neck.
"One, two three…heave!" she heard from below again, and the sheet was pulled straight, so James's poor unconscious frame was free to hang on hers.
"Ahh!" she yelled, as the sheet slipped between her fingers. This second tug had manoeuvred his body too vertical, and as such, its mass hung round her neck, causing her to lose hold. Cicely desperately gripped onto the sheets she could reach, but had fallen ten feet until she could regain her grip. She heard a gasp beneath her.
"Young," she could hear the Captain talking to her. Cicely swing herself round so she could face him. "Can you see the loose line below you?" She nodded. "I want you to grab it," he said, "and we'll pull you down."
Cicely breathed, the adrenaline of the excursion going up to get James was beginning to wear off and suddenly thirty five feet to the hard planked deck seemed a very long way. She didn't move.
"Young!" shouted the captain again. "Do as I say. It is just to your right." Cicely looked across at the ocean now, into the glare of the dazzling hot sun. If she moved, she knew, they would both be killed.
"Robert Young." Cicely's heart began to pound as the soft gentle voice planed through the hot air. She recognised it. It was the same calm voice which had encouraged her down from a tree in their back garden when she was eight years' old. The same cool manner telling her their mother had died.
"Robert Young, there is a line to your right. Take it with your right hand, and keep grips of Mr. Fillings with your left." She heard muttering from below.
"Do as Mr. Hollum says, Young," shouted the Captain. Yes, she thought. It's just there. All I need to do is catch it.
She shifted her weight to her right hand side. This is going to hurt, she thought. She took the sheet and wrapped it round her wrist; the more grip she could get the better. Then she placed her left hand on James's back, letting go of the sheet on the left. She closed her eyes. This was it, she thought. Either they both lived, or they both died.
The rope in her right hand shifted them both away from the centre of the mast. At the same time as they swung pendulously towards the furthest point on their trajectory, the second half of the mast came down, impacting on the first with a thud. If Fillings was left up there on his own, he would have come down with it and been crushed to death.
Cicely yelled with the pain; despite James being a small lad, her arm was in agony as she held on for dear life.
She looked down and could see crew members scurrying round the debris again, this time, following orders the midshipmen were giving them, but that she couldn't hear. They lurched into the space where the cross-mast had been, and became entangled momentarily in the sheets that had come chaotically apart.
"Young! Can you hear me?" She heard the b'o'sun shouting below. She refused to look down. Any moment now and she would lose her grip. They would both be going to the deck.
James, she thought, looking at the brown mop of hair in front of her, matted with blood and wood chippings. She looked down, and saw the deck coming towards them both.
"Hang in there, lad." The speed she was falling was slow and regimented, but she could feel the rope slip in her right hand. She screamed, trying desperately to wrap her leg round the rope to prevent them from falling. If she could – just – hang on, then they would be safe.
Ten feet from the deck, and her grip finally gave way. James landed on top of her, as she thumped onto the tangle of mainsail below. Men gathered round her, untangling the ropes round her hand and leg. She looked at the bright sunlight, and her head began to ache.
"Stand aside!" she heard the Maturin say, and the men shuffled back from her. He rolled James off her, and looked into her eyes. She blinked, eyes fuzzy, and tried to focus on his.
"Hm" she coughed, before staring at the doctor in alarm; he was feeling down her sides and legs. Then he felt her arms firmly before pulling he forward. She slumped into a sitting position.
"No broken bones, Jack," he said, turning back to the Captain, who stood just behind him. "Just be careful of your head today, Young," he added, looking at her forehead.
"James," she said hoarsely looking at Fillings. "He's still alive," she said, trying to divert the attention to him. "I could feel his heart beating just now."
Maturin crossed over to James, and tore open his jerkin and shirt, examining his ribs. Cicely glanced across, and began to get up. Chell held out an arm to help her.
"Hm" she sighed, nodding in gratitude, as she got to her feet. "He's – still – alive!" she continued, looking at James Fillings.
"As are you," said her brother, next to her ear. "Well done, Young," he added, giving her a smile. She glowed, and one or two salts came across to pat her on the back, causing her to stagger slightly.
"Well done?" The Captain crossed the deck, and looked keenly at Cicely. "Well done?" he repeated. "You disobeyed orders from a superior Young, and as such, should be severely reprimanded. Hmph!" he added, looking across to the scene where Stephen Maturin, with the help of John Ball, was carrying an unconscious Fillings down to the lower decks.
"As it is, you saved his life and since the Straits, I need all the souls we can get against this hellish misfortune that has ailed us. Hmph!" he snorted, before leaving Cicely standing on the deck.
"Three cheers for Young," shouted Chell, to the sailors around them. "Hip hip-"
"Hoggett," shouted the Captain to the top decksman, interrupting the cheers from the salts.
"Salvage all that you can, and make as good as repair as you can for now, will you? It's not as if we are going anywhere that our mast must be oak stable."
"All back to work!" shouted Hoggett, and the midshipmen sparked back into life, cajoling the men into work. "And you, you lazy lot," he yelled at some of the men leaning against the deck railings.
I rather think it was he who saved my life, thought Cicely. He's alive now, and if he hadn't told Edward about Nagel, I would have been discovered.
She felt a little glow of happiness inside her as she stooped as she staggered; her head did seem a little light, and the fierce eleven-o'clock sun wasn't helping matters. Feeling her knees give way under her and the deck meet her body again for the second time that day, she passed out.
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Sound, on the very tip of her consciousness filtered through into Cicely's mind. She lay where she was, resting, and tried to work out what it was.
"The doctor doesn't think the Captain ought to do it."
"I know we all hate Hollum, but he failed to salute him. No matter how much you hate a superior, you got'a salute."
"You just get back to 'im, over there."
Light, now filtered into her eyes. Cicely blinked wondering where she was.
"H…hello?" She recognised where she was; on the second deck, just above the sailor's berths. The shape of the planks told her that; they were thinner than those further down, and chinks of light from above told her that the mizzendeck was just above.
"Robert!" Into her view came James, grinning. "You're awake! Thank heavens!"
"James," she gasped, her chest aching. "You 'right?"
"Yep, thanks to you, Rob," he said, punching her playfully on the shoulder. "The doctor said my head'll heal in a while," he pointed to his forehead. "And now you're back with us, maybe we'll be out of the doldrums." Cicely coughed, trying to raise herself up in the hammock.
"Did I hear something about Nagel and Hollum?" she asked quietly, trying to sound casual.
"Refused to salute," said James, with sensation. "Can you believe it? Not salutin' an officer, well! It's no wonder the Captain's thinkin' a floggin' 'im. Bonden and Harris were just here tellin' me! "
"Nagel didn't salute?" she swallowed. God, what's been happening, she thought. "Well it's no wonder the Captain wants to thrash him," she added loyally. "When was that? It's a wonder he had time what with the mast." She coughed, before continuing. James thumped her on the back.
"The mast?" he said, then laughed. "That was three days ago, Rob; it's all been repaired now, and asail; not like there's much wind to fill it. But lashes for not saluting," James continued. "I mean, it's like he said, isn't it? He's the bad luck." There was a cough behind them.
"I do believe, Fillings, I asked you to remain in bed until this evening." The warm tones of the doctor filled the berth as he strode over to Cicely. Robert said nothing, but scuttle back to his own low-slung hammock.
"Young," he said, leaning over her. "Glad to see you are in the land of the living. You gave us all quite a start, Young," he said, looking at her throat and ears. "You have earned the grave disappointment of the Captain," he said, looking her up and down, "though I must say I think bravery alone saved your friend. And I am not alone," he continued, "I had to all but bar the door to prevent them coming to see you." He smiled. "How are you feeling?" She swallowed and coughed.
"I think you may have caused some damage in here." He looked at her stomach. "This may explain your growth, or lack of it," he added. "However that is likely the reason you managed to get away with your brave but impetuous stunt."
"If there are any internal injuries, then you may be here for some time." He began to push up her jerkin near her stomach. No! thought Cicely, freezing at his touch. Say something!
"I..i..if you please sir," she said, with as much force as she could manage. "It's just my head," she said, pointing to her head, and near her neck and hoping her lie would sound convincing. "It only hurts here."
"I see," said the doctor, touching her neck again. "In that case," he pulled up a blanket from underneath her hammock. "You need to remain here for the rest of the day, without moving. You may have some problems with your back, and if you move it sharply it may make it worse. Do you understand?"
"Ye…yes, sir," she said quietly. Stephen Maturin turned to go, nodding at James as he went, to indicate he should also remain where he was.
"Sir?" she asked, to his retreating back. "Is it true? Did Nagel not salute Mr. Hollum? Is he the cause of our bad luck?" The doctor stopped, hand on latch, before turning to address Cicely.
"I believe we make our own luck, Young," he said, smiling a little in her direction. "No man can cause bad luck, however there are consequences for actions done. Now, as I say, not one muscle, Young."
There, she though, as she lay there in the darkness, Edward could no more cause them to be windless than any other person. She glanced to one side.
"Do you believe it?" she said to James, who was standing near her again, grinning. "Is this bad luck? Can't it just be chance?"
"We're in the doldrums for a reason, Robert; something's caused it, and it's delaying the Captain in finding the Phantom, to destroy her. You know the bible as I do. I know you're not Non-Con; but you know the story of Jonah. Anyway, whoever it is, they know they're the one 'as done the wrong thing. It'll be someone, the wickedest person on the ship. And that person shouldn't be here."
He whacked her on the shoulder again, before Cicely heard the fibres in the hammock creak as he got back on it. Cicely nodded slowly, before staring back at the planks above her. Though she cared little of the captain's plans, her heart agreed with James. Someone was causing it. A Jonah on the Surprise. The wickedest person on the ship. The person who shouldn't be there.
Over the rest of the week she watched as the Captain held reign over the whole affair, issuing drought orders to preserve their water supply, the men, along with James and herself grow increasingly filthy. Nagel had been flogged, which caused the men to harbour a growing hatred and insubordination for Edward, not in action, but in thought.
It was one mealtime when Cicely looked at her crewmates, eating the meagre rations and grow increasingly restless and agitated she realised with a sense of relief and growing dread that the salts had got it wrong; it wasn't her beloved brother who was the Jonah– it was her.
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The night the after the Phantom was seen again, and the days that followed were two that Cicely would never forget, even when she was an old woman, nursing her grandchildren. She could still recall the moonlit sky that illuminated the deck, the smell of the ocean, and the unnerving calmness.
Cicely had been declared fit to work almost a week ago, and the Captain had continued making preparations for war with the Acheron that they had begun following their successful sailing round Tierra de Fuego, and following their sighting the previous night, the men had been drilled for the action; through artillery, and practice quarters and motions to battle.
Though she knew she would have the strength and will to fight the French, she couldn't help wondering whether the Captain was merely continuing in order to boost morale for it was not possible for the Acheron to be sailing; if the Surprise had no wind, then neither had she. But just the mention of her possibly being there, called out by Callumay the previous evening was enough to terrify the men, and continue their talk of the Jonah aboard.
As she worked her duties and drills only two thoughts were on her mind – to remain as inconspicuous as possible from now on, and what she could do to let Edward know she was there. Once she could tell him, she told herself, the curse would be lifted and the bad luck she had brought to the Surprise would disappear.
That evening, they had eaten a pathetic brown sludge and James had been sick, undoing Chell's work that day of cleaning the outside of the ship. Cicely had rubbed his back, feeling guilt slowly fill her that it was her presence that had caused her friend to be ill.
Even later, Edward had run through the crowd of men on the lower deck, sweating profusely, before rushing back above decks. On recalling the scene years later, Cicely had always wanted, in her mind's eye to have rushed forward, and tell him, tell the whole of the crew, that they had the wrong man, so to speak, and they should be punishing her for their misfortune, not him.
But James had held her back from going, wondering aloud where it was she was intending to go, and this had made Cicely's plan of revealing her identity to her brother that night evaporate in her mind. Minutes later she heard the news that he had gone to the doctor and telling him he was ill.
I can't tell him now, she thought, mind thinking deeply as James dragged her off in the direction of the berths before returning to carry out the duties as her pair. Tomorrow, she decided finally, following the rest of the men down to the lower deck. It'll be tomorrow.
They had been asleep when default of four was rung, and the captain called the men to deck.
He was wearing a black cloth covering his collar, and the doctor, far from his usual dressing gown attire that she was used to seeing him in when he appeared at odd hours, was dressed formally. First and second lieutenants stood to the left of the Captain; middies to the right.
Silence reigned as they stood there, for such a long time, maybe an hour or more it had seemed to Cicely, and she scanned the faces as best she could form her proximal position.
The first thing she noticed was Midshipman Blakeney. His skin shimmered in the moonlight, as if ghostly, like he was in shock. It wasn't until sometime later that she realised Edward was not present.
As if a dream played out, the captain recalled the incident to them all; that Hollum had taken his own life and it was being investigated. The words didn't register to her, not until the crew were eased of the formality of rank and began to return to their berths. That was when she heard Nagel.
Even to her last days, when she recounted the story to her youngest grandchild, when he asked her what Nagel had said, she could never remember exactly. But it was abhorrent enough for her to take hold of her hammock, throwing it in his direction with such force that when it bounced off his shoulder it knocked the oil burner from its hook, causing it to smash noisily onto the floor.
Again, she could never remember exactly what she had said, but she had lunged at him, her dumbfoundedness turning quickly to rage and anger. Whether she actually intended to kill him, she would never be sure, but one thing she did know; he was the cause of the only person in her life, her reason for following the life she had done for almost a year, the cause of Edward's death.
In the confusion that followed, men around her began to yell. She could hear James beg her to stop; the men around her restraining her when they realised how violently she was assaulting Nagel.
After his initial surprise, he hit her back, making her fly across the berth, so Cicely landed with a thump against the wall. When she got to her feet she lunged again, feeling blood on her face now where Nagel had landed a few accurate blows.
She did not feel the pain as he retaliated now, matching her blow for blow as the men stood around, aghast.
Nor did she recognise the officers that eventually restrained her, carrying her by the arms out of the lower cabin to the top. It was only when she felt the cold night air on her face that she began to slowly stop struggling and lashing out and anger replaced by bitter sobs.
Neither did she hear the officers arrest her again before throwing her manacled into the keep, slamming the double oak doors onto her crumpled form.
No-one heard Cicely Hollum as she threw her sorrow and pain from her body and as dawn broke over the Pacific Ocean and the Surprise, her tears continued, wild and erratic until she was asleep.