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Apprentice Still, Chapter One

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“Rules and regulations! If we were really pursuing the aims we believe in would we need them? It seems the answer is yes.”

Sila’s Journal: the early years

Chapter One

“Marheh Carron, we find you guilty of using your mental ability for the purpose of exploitation.”

There was a small gasp from somewhere in the room and Marheh’s face drained of colour.

“Stand while sentence is pronounced.”

Obediently she stood, straight and still. Only Nemle, her mentor, knew her well enough to recognise the tension in her clenched hands.

“The proscribed penalty is that you be grounded and Day Bringer lifted out of the water for ten years.”

Marheh stared down the emptiness of ten years imprisoned on land.

“However, in view of your youth, I am authorised to offer you the choice of a beating and a two year extension of your apprenticeship.”

Silence.

She stood motionless, determined to reveal nothing, but she dared not meet Nemle’s anxious gaze. Those nearest saw her close her eyes for a moment, saw her swallow with difficulty. Everyone in the room heard her clear soft voice when she said “I choose to be beaten.”

There was an exhalation, as if the room had been holding its breath.

“Very well.”

The voice paused. A page was turned in a large book.

“Sentence will be carried out in this room on Tuesday next at 10.00 am.”

The owner of the voice left the room and a babble of sound rose from the spectators, but Marheh still stood motionless as if any action would break her fragile control. At last Nemle went to her, took her by the hand and led her away to Day Bringer.

The Harbour was looking particularly beautiful in the spring sunshine. Light played on the water and the shining brass of the Silberay boats gathered there. The trees that bordered the moorings were veiled in new green. A gentle breeze touched the water, the trees and Marheh herself, but she was isolated from it all, encased in a hard shell that prevented feeling.

It was not until they reached the haven of Day Bringer’s cosy saloon that her control broke and she began to shake so much that it seemed easier to drop to the floor than force her legs to carry her further. Nemle crouched beside her holding her in her arms while she sobbed.

At last, when her trembling had ceased she looked at Nemle.

“I won’t let them force me from the water road, no matter what it costs.”

Nemle’s arms tightened around her.

“But you don’t have to do it this way. Accept the grounding. That will give us time to find the truth. Tuesday is only three days away.”

“And if we don’t find out, if the sentence is not overturned? Ten years could be the rest of your life and if we are off the water we will never learn who hates me so much.”

Nemle closed her eyes, opened them again. There was nothing to say. Marheh sighed and snuggled into her arms.

“Hold me a bit longer Mama Nemle,” she whispered. “Then I’ll be brave.”

Nemle held her and kissed her and helped her to wash her tear-stained face so that when a businesslike rap on the roof demanded entrance she was in control of herself again. Their visitor was the man who would carry out her sentence. He was matter-of-fact, even cheerful, like a doctor with a pleasant bedside manner. He carried folded garments of white cotton and a small piece of blue rubber, half moon shaped. He put the things on the table and waited for Nemle and Marheh to sit.

“You will present yourself at 9.45 wearing these clothes only. They fasten at the back,” he said. “You may have this to bite on.”

Marheh looked at the blue rubber in horrified fascination.

“Nemle will prepare you by fastening your wrists and ankles to the frame that will be constructed. She will then uncover you. You will receive fifty strokes of the cane in the space of an hour.”

Marheh shivered and Nemle heard a tiny whimper from deep in her throat.

“Now you need to come outside so I can measure you for the frame.”

Obediently Marheh followed him out to the back deck. She stood on tiptoe with her arms stretched above her head when instructed. She waited while he made this measurement and that. Nemle stood on the back step watching with anxious eyes. When he was done he rolled up his tape measure and nodded to her.

“I’ll see you on Tuesday,” he said. Then, as he was stepping off the deck he turned back to add. “Best if you don’t have breakfast and be sure to empty your bowels and bladder.”

Nemle thought Marheh would faint she became so white. She sprang up the steps and supported her into the back cabin, held her through spasms of uncontrollable shaking. She was still trembling when they felt Day Bringer move as someone heavy came on board. Nemle looked up angrily, afraid of some new refinement of mental torment, but relaxed when she realised it was Marheh’s Uncle Jik. He came down the steps and took in the scene in the cabin.

“Wrap her in a blanket and I’ll carry her through to the saloon,” he said. “I saw that pantomime on the back deck.”

Hastily Nemle pulled a blanket from Marheh’s bunk and wrapped it around her. Jik gathered her in his arms and carried her into the saloon as if she was a baby. He put her onto Nemle’s lap in the big chair. Nemle cuddled her until she was calm while Jik perched beside them on the footstool.

“I’m sorry,” she said at last. “I didn’t know … how it would be.”

Nemle still held her, but now she tried to get up.

“I’m too heavy for you Nemle,” she said.

“You stay here daughter, just let me hold you.”

Jik reached out to take one of her hands in his. Marheh held it tightly.

“I didn’t do what they said, Jik, truly.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“You won’t tell them at home, will you?”

He shook his head. “Not that they would doubt you, but it would hurt them.”

Marheh nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

“Marheh,” Jik said. “You know there will be people watching don’t you?”

“I guessed there might,” she said, cuddling in to Nemle again.

“Will it make it better or worse if your Uncle Jik who loves you is there?”

Marheh clutched his hands.

“Oh, better. I can be brave for you and Nemle.”

Writings

Water Road Apprentice, Chapter Two

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“Maintain firm discipline, instruct the apprentice in obedience and service and expect both at all times.”

Guidelines for mentoring the young apprentice

Chapter Two

Six weeks later Nemle stood at the tiller of Day Bringer. Part of her mind was on her steering, the other part, the major part, was attempting, not for the first time, to address the problem of her new apprentice. Marheh was at present sitting on the boat’s roof, half heartedly dabbing at the brass ventilator caps with a polishing cloth, a sulky expression spoiling her lovely face.

Things had begun quite well. Marheh had seemed eager, too eager perhaps. Even on their first day of boating she had wanted to talk and been surprisingly forthright in her opinions. Nemle had not expected that. Neither had she expected how wearing a constant presence could be. She had snapped at times, sending the child and her chatter away to her cabin.

Her cabin. Nemle caught the thought and forced herself to examine it. The cabin that was now Marheh’s had been her own for fifty years. No matter that she now had a new cabin, the old one had fitted her like a glove. She knew where everything was. There was a place for everything and never a wasted moment hunting for some ordinary necessity.

She mourned her workspace too, gone to make room for her new cabin. None of that was the child’s fault.

Then there was the problem of the clay, something her father had given her to practice with, though practice what she did not know.

The landscape slowly eased past as Day Bringer moved steadily onward. The countryside had a pleasant, homely feel about it. The silver ribbon of the water road uncoiled in easy curves between low hills. Nemle saw Marheh pause in her polishing, saw her face soften as she took in a farm cottage nestled amongst trees. A trickle of smoke drifted from one of its several chimneys and almost like a reflection, a drift of greyish white sheep fed in the field below.

She is beautiful. It must make a difference.

Nemle had no illusions about her own looks. She had always been short and stout even when she was the age of this girl. Now, at seventy, she was stocky and strong with a face that hid her thoughts behind the weathered look of old wood.

She pushed the tiller a little way from her so Day Bringer moved easily into the curve ahead.

“Bridge!”

She called a warning to Marheh and received a venomous look in return.

“I saw it.”

She stayed where she was a dangerously extended moment before swinging nimbly down to the gunnel.

Nemle bit back her instinctive anger, understanding that Marheh was being deliberately provoking. She supposed she must bear some responsibility for that too, remembering how she had lost her temper in the first week of their journey.

She had been woken while it was still dark by the movement of the boat. At first she had simply waited expecting the movement to cease when Marheh returned to bed, but then there had been stealthy sounds from the galley and she had got up to investigate.

She had found Marheh crouched on the floor feeding the fire with little pieces of coal. Keeping it alight was one of her jobs. The fire door was open but the damper was still partly closed so there was smoke in the saloon and the galley. She did not like to remember the scene that followed.

Marheh had looked up at her from the floor. She had not bothered to put on her dressing gown or slippers and her white nightdress was streaked with coal dust, not only her nightdress, but her hands and face also.

“The fire was going out. I thought I might be able to rescue it.”

At that point Nemle had still been in control of herself. She had put her candle on the bench next to Marheh’s and tightened the belt on her dressing gown. Marheh had returned to her fire, carefully positioned another couple of pieces of coal and shut the door.

“I think it’s caught now,” she said, beginning to stand up and stepping on the hem of her nightdress.

She put out a hand to save herself and caught the rack of dishes she had left to drain the night before. They crashed to the floor. A couple of plates, a mug and a bowl shattered on the hearth, cutlery skittered into corners and a saucepan tumbled into the sink then rocked itself gently into stillness.

Nemle remembered a moment of shocked silence before she exploded, hurling her anger at Marheh in a stream of ugly words that cut across her attempts at apologising. She had grabbed Marheh’s wrist and held her, berating her, then hauled her off to the bathroom.

There was barely enough room for them both in the tiny space, but she crammed them in and began to pump water into the basin with her free hand. Marheh tried to wrench her wrist free.

“What are you doing?”

“Scrubbing some sense into a stupid, spoilt child.”

She had dropped Marheh’s wrist and seized her plait at the nape of the neck instead. Then she had grabbed the nailbrush, stabbed at the soap with it and begun to scrub at the black smear across Marheh’s cheek.

“You’re hurting me!”

“I’m punishing you. Keep still.”

She had scrubbed until the black smear was gone and Marheh’s cheek was bright red then she had handed her the nailbrush and stood over her while she scrubbed away every last speck from her hands.

Marheh had been monosyllabic ever since.

Nemle watched her, still standing on the gunnel, looking ahead, one foot kicking restlessly at the paint work.

She had apologised of course, later when Marheh had dressed and cleaned up the mess. She knew her apology had been stiff and unpractised but she had not dared to reveal how appalled she was at her own outburst.

Marheh had shown clearly in the weeks that followed that her apology had not been accepted.

“I’ll be mooring in a few minutes Marheh. Take the front line please.”

A boating task such as this was the only time Marheh showed any enthusiasm for her new life and now she moved obediently into the well deck and picked up the coiled rope.

Time and patience, Nemle thought, hoping she had enough of the latter.

She eased back the throttle and guided Day Bringer carefully towards the bank. The bow touched lightly and Marheh stepped off with her rope, a mallet tucked into her belt and a mooring pin in her other hand.

She can learn when she wants to. Nemle pushed the tiller over and allowed the stern to ease in. A short burst of reverse halted the forward motion and a moment later she too had stepped off. She held Day Bringer steady with the centre line while Marheh worked with mallet and mooring pins at bow and stern. She did not in fact need Marheh’s help, having managed alone for the past thirty years, but since this was help Marheh actually wanted to give she was glad to take it.

“This is Fairdale Wood.” Nemle was coiling her line as she spoke. “We’ll stay here tomorrow.”

Marheh shrugged, returned her mallet neatly to its home and disappeared below.

—

Later as they ate their evening meal together, Nemle offered a cautious word of praise for her quick understanding of the process of mooring, but Marheh had not forgiven her yet and only tossed her head and scowled. Nemle held onto her temper and tried to continue calmly.

“I’m going plant hunting in the woods tomorrow. Would you like to come with me?”

“I’d rather go by myself.”

“I thought you might like to learn about some of the plants.”

“No.” Marheh stood up to take their bowls to the sink. They had not yet been able to replace the broken plates. “I’d rather go by myself.”

Nemle watched her fill the sink and begin on the washing up.

“If you wish. Perhaps you could collect some wood for the fire on your way home.”

Marheh said nothing only scrambled through the dishes and disappeared into her cabin. Nemle sighed and went to clean up the sink. Her one burst of temper had had catastrophic results and she was determined not to lose it again but sometimes she found it very hard.

She spent the evening making quiet preparation for her plant hunting and sorrowing over a relationship broken almost before it had begun.

Writings

Water Road Apprentice, Chapter One

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DayBringer Web size

“BIRTHS – to Margaret and Stephen Carron a daughter”

Deerford Gazette, March 1910

Chapter One

March 1930

Nemle chose a seat in the front row. She was not normally a front row person, but today she had a job to do. Today she would become a mentor. Today she would take an apprentice who would be her charge for the next twenty years.

She had met her yesterday, a slim, dark-haired child with enormous brown eyes.

“Not a child,” she rebuked herself inwardly. “A young woman.”

But she seemed a child. She had only just scraped into this year’s intake. Yesterday had been her twentieth birthday. If it had been tomorrow she would have had to wait until the next Gathering two years hence.

“And she wouldn’t have been mine,” Nemle thought with a little flutter of… what… apprehension, excitement, anxiety? She didn’t know. Perhaps a mixture of all three.

The last night of the Gathering was always a grand celebration. For three weeks the ninety Silberay had been together to discuss problems, to share joys, to obtain their next assigned route and for apprentices to attend formal classes. In the morning they would take to their boats and spread out around the water road perhaps not to meet again for two years. Even more important than the celebration though was the ceremony and now the tables of food were moved to the side, the music and the talk were dying down and others were assembling behind and around her..

The Harbour Master and the Apprentice Master mounted the low dais and the gathered Silberay grew silent. In the ceremony to come the progress of the apprentices would be acknowledged. Until they reached their tenth year they were required to attend formal classes during the three weeks of the Gathering and satisfactory results were rewarded by the presentation of a new tunic in the colour of their new level.

Apprentices were the future of the Silberay so it was important to mark their progress at every level but for Nemle, as for many of the others, the two most important parts of the ceremony were the graduation of the final year apprentices and the induction of the first years.

This year five apprentices would graduate, five new Silberay take possession of the boats they had lived on with their mentors, five mentors retire to live their last years at the Harbour. That was a sobering thought. Today she would become a mentor. Would she be ready, twenty years hence, to leave the water road for ever? When she was twenty, seventy had seemed old but it did not seem so now she had reached it. Twenty years a mentor … again the flutter of apprehension, or was it anticipation?

The apprentices were gathering beside the dais. Nemle could see them moving into position all alike in their white shirts and loose brown trousers. There were three first years.

Nemle watched with interest as the first two, a young woman and a young man, were welcomed, spoke the words of commitment and received their tunics, gold-coloured for first year. Then came the third. This one was hers. The girl moved forward, back straight, chin up, ardent, glowing like a candle flame. She turned a little towards the Harbour Master and revealed a thick plait of long dark hair hanging neatly down her back.

“That’s the Carron youngster.” Nemle heard a man behind her. “She’ll be a handful.”

Nemle frowned.

“I, Marheh Carron, promise myself to the Silberay.” The young woman’s voice rang out. “I choose for my life the active pursuit of goodness and beauty.”

“All that passion and melodrama. I don’t envy her mentor.”

“They say she’s very talented.” This new voice sounded a little doubtful.

“All the more reason to come down hard then. Don’t want her to get above herself.”

Nemle went forward then to sign the indentures and welcome her apprentice but the man’s words hung in the back of her mind. “Come down hard” was that how she must treat this shining child?

Marheh stirred and stretched as the morning light crept into the little cubicle where she had slept during the Gathering. Then she remembered what day it was and flung back the covers. Today she would move onto a boat and her life as Silberay would really begin. The three weeks of classes had been, not boring exactly but not exciting either. After all she’d already been on lots of Silberay boats because of her Uncle Jik. He had even let her steer Autumn Wind once or twice on short straight stretches. The other two first years had been older, Tippa was months past her twenty first birthday but they had not really known very much at all.

Jik had told her lots about the history of the Silberay and what they believed so she had found it hard to sit and listen to someone else telling her the same thing when what she really wanted to do was to meet her mentor and start boating. Sometimes she had wanted to argue with the Apprentice Master who seemed to think she was a child who knew nothing but mostly she had remembered to hold her tongue. Jik and both her parents had warned her against showing off.

Last night had been glorious. She had been too excited to eat much of the party food. She couldn’t keep still long enough. She had spotted the woman who was to be her mentor. Jik had told her she was very lucky but watching as she moved quietly among the older Silberay Marheh could not see why. She was just a little old woman in Silberay uniform.

She had said her promise with all her heart, loudly, so they would know how much she meant it.

She scrambled into her clothes and re-did her plait. Now she had her tunic she looked like Silberay. The soft bag which held all her belongings was almost packed. She tucked her nightdress into the top then stripped the linen from the bed. That had to be taken to the laundry. She gathered it all into her arms and whisked off with it.

She was going to be the best apprentice that ever was. Nemle was pretty lucky really.

Nemle was up early too, dressed and breakfasted and ready to take Day Bringer around to the loading dock by the time the sun was fully above the horizon. She would need to get diesel and water before they set off but that could wait until Marheh was on board and become part of her first practical lesson.

Usually the tasks associated with setting out, the engine checks, the careful untying of mooring lines were second nature but today everything was done as if for the first time, knowing she would be teaching these skills. Manoeuvring out of her mooring she noticed how she used the throttle as well as the tiller to help her reverse and felt Day Bringer respond as she moved slowly and easily through the quiet Harbour waters.

She was just tying up at the loading dock when Marheh appeared from the building which housed the accommodation, extra bathrooms and the laundry. She was carrying a large soft bag and trying to run but the bag kept banging into her legs turning the run into a hop and a skip. Nemle watched her for a moment then bent to finish her mooring.

When she straightened again Marheh was in front of her, eyes shining, a little breathless, the bag clasped in both arms. Nemle smiled a greeting and hoped it would hide the sudden surge of panic that swept over her. What did she know about being a mentor? The advent of this eager young woman would change her life and now, suddenly, she didn’t want her life to change. Then she realised that Marheh was looking not at her but at Day Bringer.

The girl stood transfixed for a few moments then she put her bag down very carefully and stepped across it to touch the dark green hull and trace around the decorative letter D.

“Day Bringer,” she said softly, turning to Nemle. “She’s beautiful.”

“She is a pretty boat,” Nemle said, keeping her voice matter-of-fact. “You’ll be able to help care for her.” She stepped onto the back deck and turned to Marheh. “Come on board and get settled. There’s a bit to do before we can set out.”

Turning, she led the way through the open door and down the four steep steps into the back cabin.

“This will be your cabin,” she said. “Put your bag down here and I’ll take you through the rest of the boat.”

A sudden flash of resentment surprised her into the realisation that she did not want to relinquish her cabin to this new comer, did not want to have to occupy the new cabin that had been created for her in the bow, the work space it replaced gone forever.

She led Marheh through the cabin to the engine room, the big engine shining with her care, just waiting to be awakened. Then they passed the tiny cubicle that housed the toilet bucket and reached the galley with the saloon beyond it. She heard Marheh’s little gasp of delight as she took in the neat, compact space. The morning sun bounced off the water and filled the boat with light. The kettle gently steamed at the back of the stove. Everything that could possibly sparkle did so. The sink and the stove defined the small corner that was the galley. The chimney for stove and fire reached to the roof, black and shining. There were green curtains at the windows with a pattern of wildflowers. The lower sides were panelled in light golden timber, the lining of the roof and topsides was painted a very pale grey-green.  There was a big green armchair and a matching footstool by the fire and a small table and two little benches built against the opposite wall. Beyond that was the door to Nemle’s cabin, firmly closed.

After a few moments Nemle turned to look at Marheh.

“Your new home,” she said.

Marheh’s face shone.

“She’s beautiful,” she said again.

Nemle smiled then.

“She is, isn’t she?”

A moment of silence while Nemle hunted for some more words.

“Would you like to unpack now, or shall we get under way?”

“Get underway,” Marheh said, in no doubt. “But I just have to get my box of clay.”

Nemle stared after her as she turned and hurried away, watched through the window as she bolted towards the accommodation building and disappeared inside then shrugged, went to get the hose and started filling the water tank.