Very soon, to Gus’s relief, he heard the anchor being raised and the engine started again. It was not long before the movement of the ship told him that they had reached the open sea. His relief was short-lived. He had heard people talk of seasickness, but had never imagined that he would be affected. The lifeboat, hanging in its davits, swung from side to side, exaggerating the roll of the ship, and above his head the masts described wide arcs against the clouds. He shut his eyes, but that gave little respite. It would pass, he told himself; but now he had another source of discomfort. He desperately needed to piss. To stand up and piss over the side would be to reveal himself, and anyway he was no longer sure he could stand; but he had to do something. Reluctantly, he wriggled to the stern of the boat, undid his breeches and relieved himself. Soon after that he was sick for the first time. After that he lay in a fog of misery that wiped out any possibility of coherent thought. He had been taught to pray in the workhouse, but he had mouthed the words without really thinking what they meant. Now he prayed in earnest, begging God to still the waves, but no answering miracle occurred. Then he prayed for death to bring a quick end to his sufferings, but that prayer was not answered either. He was roused from his stupor once by the sound of feet running across the deck and, opening his eyes, he saw men swarming up the masts and soon the great square sails were unfurled and the engine stopped. The ship heeled over and after that, it seemed to Gus, the rolling was less severe. Hours passed. Darkness came again and he heard the watch being changed, and at last he sank into an exhausted sleep.

Voices and movement on deck woke him and he saw that it was dawn and the watch was being changed again. He was shivering with cold and his whole body ached as if he had had another beating. He was lying in a puddle of his own piss and vomit and he knew that he could not stay hidden any longer. What reception he would get he could not guess, but he no longer cared as long as someone gave him something to drink and some dry clothes. Shakily he hauled himself to his feet and clambered down to the deck, arriving with a bump almost at the feet of a tall, dark-bearded young man in civilian clothes.

‘Great God Almighty!’ the man said, in an accent that was unfamiliar to Gus. ‘Where the devil have you sprung from?’

Gus got to his feet unsteadily and ran his tongue over his cracked lips. ‘Up there, in the lifeboat. I was hiding.’

‘A stowaway! Well, I’ll be damned!’