To The Rescue
Ferrying coal along the canal, Jane and her pals have prejudice as well as locks to contend with…
April 1944
IfI didn’ t know better, I’ d never believe we’ re in the fifth bloom in’ year of a world war. Will it ever end? Jane sighed as she stood at the rear of Bluebell, the motorised narrowboat, remembering to turn the tiller the opposite way from the direction she wanted to go – that was, to the left – to stop it from crashing into the left bank of the Grand Union Canal. Rays of sun warmed her face, streaked with dirt. She turned her head to look at Charlie, her collie, and grinned. Alert at her side, his golden eyes shone with health and enthusiasm.
She took her other hand off the tiller, giving him a guilty pat. Their trainer had drummed it into them: “No dogs allowed on my boats. They’re a menace.”
Well, she and the other two girls who made up the team now were no longer trainees and could make their own decisions, managing the two narrowboats between them, heading back from Birmingham to London with a full cargo of coal.
Her stomach growled with anticipation that Eleanor would be setting out a wellearned piece of cake and tea in Hyacinth, lapping behind on the end of the long rope with Maisie at the tiller. Jane stretched one slim arm in turn above her head. Every bone and muscle ached from the long morning helping to deposit coal in the holds and covering the mounds with heavy sheeting to keep them in place.
And if the other girls were anything to go by, she must look a sight. Thank heavens there was no mirror in the cabin to disclose the awful truth. She couldn’t help grinning at the thought. No matter how desperate they’d all been for a wash, they’d had to forgo it. Cleaning the cabin had taken priority, as thick coal dust had landed on every conceivable surface.
The two large flower-painted cans holding their drinking water were almost empty, and Eleanor had insisted those last two pints were needed for tea and cocoa to keep them going until they tied up later that afternoon.
Momentarily Jane closed her eyes, dreaming of her bath booked at The Greyhound. Sinking into all of five inches of bath water, rationed since the start of the war, would be bliss.
She startled as Charlie broke into her reverie with a short, sharp bark.
“What is it, boy? What’ve you seen?” He barked again, this time more urgently. Jane squinted in the dog’s direction. All she saw was an idyllic scene of a field of sheep and their new-born lambs, many of the youngsters peacefully suckling, although several were skipping, the sunlight shining on their snowy-white coats.
“I expect you’re remembering your old job, rounding up the sheep,” Jane said, tickling Charlie behind his ears. “Do you miss it?”
He briefly licked her hand but turned again towards the field. If only she had her binoculars. And then she saw what had caught his attention. A sheep had managed to fall on its back and if she hadn’t been high up on the deck she probably wouldn’t have noticed it.
Holding her breath, she watched as the animal struggled helplessly. It was obviously too heavy to right itself and Jane was too far away to hear, though she fancied she heard it groaning.
“We’ll have to do something to help her, won’t we, boy?” she told the dog.
She’d have to steer the boat into the bank. Frantically, she looked in every direction. Where on earth was the farmer? There was no one in sight.
Ah. Wasn’t that a lock in the distance? If so, maybe there’d be a lock-keeper somewhere about. She kept her eyes fixed ahead as Bluebell drew closer. And that must be the lock-keeper’s house higher up the bank.
Sure enough, as the two boats closed the gap, a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing breeches and an open-necked shirt with the sleeves rolled up, came out of the house and ran down the verge to the lock gates. He glowered up at her.
“Not another load of female trainees without a clue as to how to work a lock?” She felt a hot rise of anger.
“We’re not trainees,” she shouted back. “We’re experienced boatwomen who can tackle locks perfectly well. And even if we couldn’t, you’ve no right to be so rude. We’re working bl –” She broke off. She wouldn’t swear. “We’re working hard to do our bit for the war effort, so you can keep those sorts of remarks to yourself.”
“Eleanor says tea’s ready.” It was Maisie calling from the other boat.
Jane looked over her shoulder.
“I can’t come. There’s a sheep on its back. I’m pulling into the bank.”
“Can’t hear you!”
“I”m pulling in!” Jane bellowed. “Okay!”
Under the frowning lock-keeper’s watchful eye, Jane steered Bluebell into the bank. He stomped over and without speaking extended a hand for Jane to hop down. She ignored it. But Charlie made a flying leap and the man’s face contorted with anger.
“DO NOT BRING THAT BLOODY DOG WITH YOU!” he yelled.
“He’s used to sheep,” Jane protested, fighting not to explode. Who did he think he was? He might be good-looking in a craggy sort of way, but the grim expression didn’t do him any favours.
“I don’t give a damn what he’s used to – I’m telling you to send him back. Some of the ewes are still birthing.” He bent to tie up the boat. “And we don’t want any dog barking and frightening them.”
She was close enough now to see that his eyes were an even deeper blue than the sky above them.
“Come on, we’re wasting valuable time,” he said.
“Back on the boat, Charlie!” she ordered. But the dog took no notice.
He stomped over and extended a hand for Jane to hop down. She ignored it
“BACK, Charlie!” Jane pointed commandingly to the boat, but he merely looked up at her and whined.
“Why aren’t we going through the lock?” Maisie called out as she steered Hyacinth in smoothly close behind Bluebell, throwing a curious glance in the man’s direction.
“A sheep needs rescuing,” Jane answered. “Can you take Charlie inside so he doesn’t follow me?”
“Right-o.”
Have you seen the farmer?” Jane broke the silence as she and the surly lock-keeper trudged along the towpath towards the field. “He shouldn’t be allowed to have sheep if he can’t keep his eye on them. And if you must know,” she continued without waiting for a reply, “it was Charlie who noticed the sheep and warned me.”
“Hmm.”
He walked fast and she had to push herself to catch up with his long strides. “There it is,” Jane said, pointing. He rushed over, then bent down. Gently, he ran his hand over the animal’s stomach, then looked up at her.
“As I suspected. She’s heavy with her lamb. That’s why she overturned. I’m going to roll her over.”
In seconds the ewe was on her feet, but then she wobbled. He steadied her and with a moan she lay down.
“Can you hold her head while I have a look at what’s happening at her rear end?”
She nodded. Silent minutes went by. She swallowed, wishing that she could be of real help.
“I can see something. Talk to her.” Jane put her hand on the sheep’s neck and bent low. She spoke softly.
“Come on, girl. We’re here to help you deliver your lamb. I’m sure you’ll have to push, just like human mothers.”
As though she understood the words, the sheep gave a grunt.
“It’s coming …” The lockkeeper paused, and Jane heard him say, “One more push, old girl.”
She watched as his face changed from pure concentration to one of awe when he pulled out a quivering, slippery little black and white lamb.
He looked up and met her eyes. “Come and look.”
“Clever girl,” Jane whispered to the sheep. “You’ve done it.” She hurried to squat by the man’s side, marvelling at the little creature in his bare arms. “Oh, he’s so sweet. But his eyes aren’t open.”
“Never are straight away,” he said brusquely. “The ewe needs to bond with her baby, so can you help her up?”
The sheep seemed just as keen to rise. Jane guided her round so she could see her newborn. She sniffed the lamb and licked it, making little snicking noises.
“She’s telling him he has to stay close to her,” he said.
After a few moments he carefully positioned the lamb underneath her udder, then dipped his arms in a nearby water trough. Drying them on a large handkerchief, his smile was wide as he watched the lamb suckle.
“See – he knows exactly what to do.” “I can’t believe the little soul can already stand.” Jane forgot his ill-temper as she beamed at him. “It”s a miracle.”
“A miracle indeed,” he said, removing his cap, and ruffling his fingers through corn-coloured hair as he gazed at her. He held out his hand. “Truce?”
She hesitated. Tentatively, she put her hand in his, then snatched it back, warmth tingling up her arm. He raised an eyebrow and for the first time his mouth tilted upwards in amusement.
“What is it?” she demanded.
“I thought you were a chimney sweep when I first set eyes on you.”
Jane put a hand to her burning face. “We happen to be delivering coal –”
“I can see that. And underneath those smudges I reckon you might not be a bad-looking girl.”
“Thanks for the compliment,” she shot back, glaring at him.
“Now you’re cross with me again.”
His smile was mocking.
“I haven’t time to be cross. I want to find that farmer because I intend giving him a piece of my mind.”
“Well, you don’t have far to go.” This time he grinned and grabbed her hand. “I”m the farmer – Bob Ferris. More than delighted to meet you.”
Blast! She could kick herself.
“I was just making a pot of tea before checking on the sheep when I saw your boats and thought I’d help you through the lock.” He looked at her, his expression contrite. “I’m sorry I assumed you were trainees. We’ve had several lately, banging into the banks and opening the wrong lock gates.” He glanced at the new mother and baby. “Thank goodness you spotted her. It could easily have been too late.”
“I told you – Charlie’s the one who saw her. You can thank him.”
“How can I? Your friend’s taken him to the other boat.”
Without thinking, she blurted, “Then you’d better thank him properly by joining us for tea in the cabin – if you can bear to be around three experienced boatwomen, that is.”
Bob’s eyes twinkled. She was lost in their blue haze.
“Yes,” he nodded. “I believe I can.”