Farewell To The East End

she said, taking hold of the rope ladder.
    ‘Ever done this afore?’
    ‘We had a tree house when we were children, so I suppose you could say I’ve had some practice.’
    ‘The ’ardest part is when you jumps off, because you’re goin’ to ’it the side of ve boat. But just hold steady and yer’ll be all right. Ven you can start climbing.’
    ‘Good egg. Thanks for the tip.’
    The wind was blowing Chummy’s gabardine raincoat in all directions. It was a heavy garment, and long, as required by nursing uniform standards.
    ‘This bally thing’s going to be a nuisance.’
    She took it off. The nightwatchman looked at her. He was beginning to respect her, and his sausages and fried bread seemed less important.
    ‘Yer skirts too long. You might catch yer foot in ’em.’
    ‘Not to worry.’ Chummy pulled her skirt up above her waist, and tucked it into her knickers. ‘No need for false modesty,’ she said cheerily.
    She took hold of the ladder again and put a foot on the first rung.
    ‘Go up a rung, so you pull ve ladder taut. Grab ’old of a rung above head height. Don’t try holdin’ the sides of ve ladder.’
    ‘Thanks. Any other tips?’
    ‘No. Just keep yer nerve, an’ keep climbing. Don’t look down or up. Keep a steady climb, and whatever yer do, don’t stop. Jes keep it steady, an’ you’ll be all right.’
    Chummy put one foot on a rung. ‘Wizard show. Here we go,’ she said, cheerily, feeling upwards for the next rung. She hauled herself up.
    ‘Only another fifty to go,’ she called out to the man watching as she reached upwards for another rung.
    ‘I only ’ope to Christ them Swedes know ’ow to make a rope ladder,’ he muttered to himself, ‘a weak link could be ve death of ’er.’
    ‘What did you say? I couldn’t hear for the wind,’ she called.
    ‘Nuffink important. Jes’ keep going, one hand, one foot. Keep it steady, and don’t stop or look down.’
    Chummy kept going. The wind was rocking the boat, and every now and then a sudden gust caught Chummy and blew her a few feet to one side. But she kept her nerve. She would have tougher things than this to face when she was a missionary. She remembered Miss Hawkins, a retired missionary and Matron of Queen Charlotte’s, where she had done her early training. Matron Hawkins had taught all her students as though they were going to be up a creek without a paddle. Just keep going, old girl, thought Chummy.
    She reached upwards and there was nothing. She groped around with her fingers, but no, nothing. Then she felt the wood of a broken rung swinging loose against her arm. Panic hit her, and she froze, leaning her head against the side of the ship. To be paralysed with fear can mean death, because the muscles are unable to respond. Chummy listened to her heart pounding and knew her breathing to be shallow and irregular. Her whole body was stiff. She sensed her danger. She was a sensible and highly trained nurse and knew that, if she could control her breathing she would begin to regain control of her muscles. She knew the breathing that she had taught others in ante-natal classes would help. Gradually she felt she could move. She brought her foot up to the next rung, which gave her a longer reach, and was able to grab the one above her head with her outstretched hand.
    ‘That was a close shave,’ she muttered to herself.
    The nightwatchman had seen what had happened, and his heart was in his mouth.
    ‘She’s got guts, vat girl,’ he thought. The men above were commenting in Swedish.
    Chummy did not know it, but she had not far to go. She felt exhilarated now. Having successfully negotiated the danger of the missing rung, she felt she could tackle anything, and she even enjoyed the rest of the climb. Suddenly she heard voices close to her ear, and her hand touched the metal bars of the bulwarks. She climbed over the edge and stood flushed and breathless on the deck. For once in her life she was not confused or embarrassed to be surrounded by men, even though she was standing among them in her knickers.
    ‘Whoops, cover your legs, old girl,’ she said to herself as she let her skirt fall. They all laughed and clapped and cheered.
    One of the men handed her the bag then another took her down to a cabin on the middle deck. He knocked and spoke in Swedish. The door opened, and a tall, bearded man appeared. He spoke rapidly to Chummy in Swedish, as though he expected her to understand him. A female voice from within