“I just want you to know that I understand how it feels when the water’s got hold of you and is sucking you under. I understand what it’s like to see every moment of your life before you, when you’re sure that you will die.”
Mama gave him a long look. She said, “How do you know this?”
“I was on board when the Mary Rose went down. The French were coming for us, more than two hundred ships sailing across the Solent towards us. We were one of eighty ships, waiting in Portsmouth harbour for them, proudly flying King Henry’s banner. The king had spent his riches on us. His rose was even stamped into the cannon. And they were mighty cannon too. How could we ever be defeated?” He laughed. “The king himself had come down to see the spectacle. And it was a spectacle. The fields were filled with the royal pavilions and the brewhouses were working hard to keep the tankards full. The cannon were stoked and ready, the bill men were thumping their staffs on the earth, waiting for the chance to impale a Frenchman. I remember looking back and thinking that no man could break through our defences.” He laughed again. I didn’t know why. He didn’t seem to find his tale funny.
“I should not have tested God,” he said. “At first the wind was too slow and the sails were slack, but then it was like God sent us speed. We moved towards those French galleys.”
As he spoke, the man’s eyes were like the fish’s, glazed to the outside world, as he fought the battle inside his head. Mama squeezed my hand under the table.
“My uncle’s saw snapped and he sent me back to the carpenter’s cabin for a fresh one. That saved my life, but not my uncle’s. As I opened the cabin door, the boat tipped. I fell sideways and the water came.”
“Was the boat hit?” Mama asked.
“No one knows why we went down. Some say a cannonball hit us, but I didn’t feel the impact. Some say the men were unruly, but they were all good men. My uncle, he was good at his trade and proud to be serving the king. I do know that there were nets at the side of the ship. They were meant to stop the invaders boarding us, but the nets stopped our men getting out.”
“How many men were lost?”
He threw back the rest of his ale. “Nearly five hundred boarded. Less than forty lived. The carpenter’s cabin was on the main deck, so I had more time to reach the upper deck. I clung to the mizzenmast until a rowing boat came to rescue me. Those on the decks below had no chance.”
I thought of Mama’s grip round me, pulling me back up to life. I wanted to ask who helped him, but when I thought about being in the river yesterday, the water was pressing against my eyes again. I wondered if he felt the same when he told his story.
Mama said, “I’m sorry.”
As he looked at Mama, his eyes came alive again. “I knew you would understand the pain.”
He turned his gaze on me. “And you understand, don’t you, Eve? That thin line between life and death?”
I realized I was nodding. I stopped myself. He had been the one who drew that line.
“I’m glad you agree.” His sudden smile made me jolt. His teeth were the colour of underwater. “We do not know when our lives will be cut short, so we must make the most of this life before passing on to the next.”
The travellers came into the room and pulled out chairs around the biggest table. The serving girl was summoned for ale and she still couldn’t resist having a peep at me. I was tempted to make a face at her. My dead-dog face was especially ugly, but Mama had told me off last time she caught me doing it. She’d said that people look at us enough already.
George Symons had leaned in so close to Mama that his forehead almost touched hers.
“I need your help, madam.”
“My help?”
“To make our fortune.”
One of the travellers laughed loudly and scraped back his chair. Mama turned to look at him then back at George Symons.
“My fortune?”
“Your feat yesterday was astounding, madam. Please believe me. It’s your pathway to riches.”
Mama’s face didn’t change, but she tore bread from her slice and used it to scoop up some fish. She washed it down with a good sip of ale.
“There’s treasure to be found,” he said.
This time I really did make my dead-dog face. You cannot live in Southwark without hearing every lost-treasure tale there is.
Mama said, “Would you have me dive back into the Thames to find gold? It’s rich in horse carcasses, but I would not call that treasure.”
George Symons laughed so loudly that some of the travellers looked round at him. Mama’s joke wasn’t that funny.
“No,” he said. “I’m not talking about the Thames. You would need to leave Southwark.”
Mama grasped my hand again. “This is my home,” she said. “I will not leave it.”
“Home, madam? A home is where there is more than this” – he held his forefinger and thumb close together as if he was going to pinch Mama – “between having a warm bed and sleeping on the street. Home is where you have food in your pantry and a fire in your hearth. That is the home that riches will bring you.”
Last year, some minstrels set up a puppet show next to the baiting ring by the river. Every time I decided to leave, the story would catch me again and I knew that I’d have to stay until the end. I’m not sure if Mama fully believed him, but her face said that she couldn’t stop listening.
“You can travel with your daughter, of course,” George Symons said.
“Travel where?” Mama asked.
“Southampton.”
“Where’s Southampton?” I hadn’t meant the words to come out. Mama was always reminding me that I should
