Witch Child by Celia Rees Read Free Book Online Page A

most eerie silence fell about us. Even the children were quiet and the babies ceased from wailing. The hush lay unbroken, except for a muttered prayer here and there, and stifled moans and the sounds of sickness. The cabin was full of listening and waiting for the final rending crash and inundation which would mean the end for us.
    Suddenly a scream ripped the silence, rending it like a cloth. A woman’s cry, followed by a sob. Then a space of time, then another groaning cry, and another. A woman in labour. Even the children knew what it was.
    Rebekah Rivers came weaving towards us, staggering to find her balance against the ship’s jolting movement. She was the girl who first saw me, but I have not had occasion to be much in her company. She is naturally reserved, and has been much occupied with helping her mother. Mistress Rivers has suffered cruelly with the seasickness and she is near her time, big with child, so care of the family has fallen on Rebekah. She approached Martha, putting a hand out to her.
    ‘The baby’s come untimely, Mistress,’ she said, her thin hand trembling, her large hazel eyes wide and terrified. ‘My mother’s in need of you. My father asks if you can come quick.’
    ‘Of course I can, m’dear. I’ll just gather my things.’ Martha bustled, collecting what she needed, turning to Rebekah when she was ready. ‘Don’t you worry. It will go fine with your mother.’
    The girl cast a look at the chaos raging round us. Her features are handsome, almost boyish, set in a face which hovers between beauty and ugliness.
    ‘I hope so, Martha.’ She smiled, tipping the scales to beauty.
    ‘’Course it will, never fear. Now, we will need water and clean linen. Go and ask for what they can spare.’ Martha turned to me. ‘You can help her.’
    I followed Rebekah, asking fellow passengers, friends, neighbours to give us what linen they could. Water is too precious for washing clothes and every garment had been worn for weeks, but most people had something hoarded to wear fresh for when they left the ship. Their beliefs might be narrow, but in other ways they are generous, open-handed people. They knew the cause and freely parted with shifts, shirts and underskirts. We soon had more than enough.
    ‘Thank you for your help.’ Rebekah looked at me over the linen heaped to her chest.
    ‘She’s not finished yet.’ Martha called me to her side. ‘My hands are not what they were, especially in this cruel cold and damp.’ She held up fingers reddened and thickened, rheumatic at the joints. ‘You can help with the birthing.’
    Rebekah’s broad brow creased in a frown.
    ‘You have the skill?’
    ‘M – my grandmother taught me.’ Something about this tall grave girl made me blush and stammer. Her straight look demanded honesty, and even though what I said was no lie, in my mouth it felt so.
    ‘She has the skill, Rebekah. You can trust her.’
    ‘I hope so.’
    I hoped so, too. Her hazel eyes had hardened to agate.
    ‘We will do what we can,’ Martha said, ‘but we are all in God’s hands.’
    ‘And we accept His will.’ A man’s voice sounded behind me. ‘In this as in all things. Do we not, Rebekah?’
    ‘Yes, Father,’ Rebekah replied, but the look in her eyes did not change as she bowed her head. ‘I will fetch the water.’
    ‘My wife is in a bad way, Mistress Everdale.’ He looked down at Martha. ‘Do what you can for her.’ He turned his tall hat in his hand. ‘Is there anything I can do to assist?’
    Martha squinted round. The storm still raged and although it was daytime, with the hatches shut the cabin was near as dark as night.
    ‘We will need something to light this murk if we are to see what we are doing.’
    ‘I’ll go and fetch candle lanterns.’
    The light they gave was slight, but we were not allowed oil lamps. They were thought too dangerous down here. Neither could the water be heated, not in a storm like this. On board ship, water was not the only