Farewell To The East End

to a crowd of men, until she remembered Kirsty’s profession. She explained to Kirsty that help was needed and opened the door.
    A dozen or more bearded faces appeared at the door, all peering in. At once they started cheering and clapping again. Chummy beckoned to the captain, who strode in, shutting the door behind him. She indicated what was necessary, and he nodded. She took the baby from her mother and retired to a stool in the corner.
    The captain was a big man, and strong, but for sheer body weight his daughter could easily have doubled him. He took both of her hands and pulled – the bulk shifted a few inches. He stood astride her body and pulled again; no result. He went to the door, shouted, ‘Olaf, Bjorg!’ and two massive men entered. He explained, and they nodded. He took her hands again, and one man stood behind each shoulder. As the captain pulled each man heaved until Kirsty was sitting upright. They gave a cheer. This is obscene, Chummy thought, I can’t bear to look at that poor woman sitting there with her huge breasts swinging on the floor, and these men cheering. They were obviously debating how to get Kirsty onto a chair. The debate was long and contentious; each man had his own ideas. A chair was solemnly brought forward and placed behind the woman. The three men grabbed her torso and heaved once more. ‘That’s not the way to do it,’ thought Chummy, who had been taught how to lift a heavy patient, ‘you’ll never get her up like that.’ They didn’t. After another debate, they tried again, the two men locking their arms under Kirsty’s armpits, and the captain ready with the chair. ‘That’s more like it,’ thought Chummy.
    I have said that Chummy had cleared up the mess as best she could under the circumstances. But resources were minimal, and the deck of the cabin was still slippery in patches.
    The two men lifting Kirsty nodded to each other, took a deep breath and heaved. Her bottom lifted about six inches from the deck. Olaf, on her left, moved his foot and trod on a slippery patch. He hurtled forward across Kirsty’s body and Bjorg was thrown backwards. In his fall he flung his arm upwards and hit the hurricane lamp with such force that it shattered, plunging the cabin into darkness.
    In the meantime Kirsty had acted. A desperate mother can do anything in defence of her child. As the lamp shattered she screamed, ‘My baby,’ pushed Olaf, who was lying sprawled over her, to one side, scrambled to her feet, and ran over to the corner where Chummy was sitting. She took the baby, enfolding her protectively to her bosom. When another hurricane lamp was brought in she could be seen by all the men sitting quietly on a chair, rocking her baby, with a sheet modestly draped around her.

    When the cabin was cleared of men, Chummy set about making it into a suitable lying-in room for mother and baby. The bed was not broken, the legs had merely folded in on themselves so she fixed it up again for Kirsty. But there was no clean linen left after delivery, and her patient had no nightie. There was no cot for the baby, no means of bathing her, and no clothes for her. She explained her needs to Kirsty, who was not really listening, so she went to the door, opened it, and shouted, ‘Olaf!’ The biggest of the bruisers entered and stood to attention, looking ill at ease.
    ‘Tell him I need more clean linen, two more pillows, some nightdresses and a dressing gown for you. Also I need some more hot water and more clean towels for me to bath the baby; a box or basket which I can make into a cot, and some soft linen or cloth that I can tear up and make into cot blankets.’ She considered there was no point in asking for baby clothes.
    Kirsty translated, and Olaf looked mesmerised. She repeated the instructions two or three times, and Chummy could see him desperately trying to activate his brain and memorise the list, which he was counting off on his fingers. He left the cabin, and Chummy set about clearing things up a little more and packing her delivery bag. She was beginning to feel tired. The drama of the night had kept the adrenalin pumping through her body, but now that all danger for mother and baby had passed, her limbs felt heavy and slow.
    Olaf reappeared with an armful of stuff, and a second man brought in a jug of hot water. Chummy was able to bath the baby, with Kirsty eagerly watching and commenting at every stage. A basket, which smelled of fish, had been provided, and this