Runcorn Gap
Written by S.E. Hicks
Straddled on the apex of the stern, Tobias Archer repeatedly dropped the lead and line to check the depth of the River Mersey. Giles Ginter, his childhood friend was at the helm directing the river cog through the shallow sandy bottomed channel. Tobias scanned the ship, looking proudly forward at his father Oswyn, who was standing statuesquely at the bow, studying intently the water in advance of the cog. He listened curiously at Piers Geste, who was barking orders to the small crew manning the square rigged sail and again to the oarsman. They were eight, mostly Archers and one from Ginter‘s family. Giles Ginter had many a time sailed the river but had never ventured west of Warrington nor to far east into Manchester. Tobias knew not of navigation, he was both excited and inquisitive. The trip on the river flat would be his only schooling, an incomplete preparation for the rapids yet to come.
The river was flowing just fast enough to mostly out run the effects the gentle early morning breeze had on the sail. As he watched the sail fill and relax, Tobias wondered of the horses they had set free at the confluence of the Goyt and the Etherow. Packed with a few bags of rock, the equine had been sent on a rouse, galloping east towards Mottram ferry with no riders along the River Mersey’s north bank. He thought of his Millicent and her angry father the Shire-reeve. Tobias’ fathers men had in deed thrown Barnaby Shipwash and the hue and cry off their trail. The Archers were temporarily safe from their pursuers. At least for now. Their heading would be north and west on the whims of the river. With the aide of the single sail river cog, the gap between them had lengthened considerable.
Their trip on the river would take them past Wulfiges, the land of wolves. On to Woolston Eyes and the great breeding grounds of the Black Neck Grebe, past the mill pond at Warrington, Lancashire the place of the Roman crossing, then into the treacherous narrows of Runcorn Gap. If the cog made it through to the wide expanse of the estuary they would be but a day’s sail to the next narrow and on to the busy Seaforth Dock of Liverpool, the gateway to the Atlantic.
As the cog approached the Runcorn, the wind picked up sail and Giles ordered the men to furl the square rig. Both Oswyn and Piers joined the men on the oars. Giles requested Tobias to help him man the tiller. Just before they entered the mouth of the gap, a young woman appeared on the far bank chased by two rouges. Her dress of rags just clinging to her, she sloshed her way to the edge of a moored row boat, casting off into the fast water just ahead of the cog. The unknown woman was successful evading her assailants.
The river groaning sounds like a raging beast, began to dance a myriad of ballistic ballets before them. Tossing about sea craft and voyagers alike. The drift ahead presented a surging river which was riddled with white capped dilemmas defining but a single course. One mistake meant death to the few that dared her challenging jaws.
Giles instructed the crew at each approaching obstacle. The men responded courageously to the demands of each protuberance. Rocks void of moss not lacking in mass sent colossal rising fountains of water up skywards and stood defiantly in their path. Tobias keen on the fate of the young woman in the row boat was distracted from his duty and was knocked over by the pitch of the cog and sudden sway of the tiller. When he finally stood he caught only a brief glimpse of the waterlogged women as she disappeared into the raging torrents. The little rowboat, now a passenger less, sagged and dipped, spiraling into one boulder then the next. How the wooden dinghy held together was a tribute to the ship’s carpenter and a parcel of luck. The girl could be seen infrequently, barely holding on to the gunnels of the craft, rarely raising her head from the water. Two hours more of rapids inspired careful and diligent management of the cog-- suffering the crew to safe passage thru Runcorn Gap.
When the cog finally found itself in quiet water, the embattled ship came upon the little row boat. Tobias rushed to the lee side and with anguish, peered over the side to look for the girl. She was not in sight. He had nearly turned away when a hand slowly appeared from the murky water and grabbed hold the gunnels. The woman had survived the watery ride but was bleeding badly about her head. He saw her face in a brief flash. He noticed a piece of her scalp was missing and bare skull exposed. Her had been nose, smashed into her skull and her bloody cheeks were dislocated she looked haunting and pitiful, unrecognizable. Before they could mount an effort her eyes froze in death. Her disheveled corpse slipped away into the green murk leaving simply a spire of crimson trail in the water and a single blonde shed floating on the surface. It was hair like Millicent had.
Oswyn said “Do not forlorn her passing Tobias, she did not die without courage.”
Then Oswyn said a short prayer to himself, others coalesced with Tobias at the stern to bid her a safe journey.
“Who do you think she was and what fate had she escaped from?” questioned Tobias.
“ I can not conjecture her first fate, but the River Mersey and the rapids of Runcorn Gap was the fate that took her life,” said Giles.
Tobias then sheltered his eyes as he wished not for his father’s men to see his tear.
After they passed the placid tidal narrows of Liverpool Bay they moored at Seaforth Dock. Both Oswyn and Tobias stowed themselves in the hold, keeping out of sight. Giles and Piers went ashore to perform reconnaissance of the markets adjacent to the ship yard. They had a mission, to hire a guide for a sea crossing to Ireland. Neither Giles or Piers could navigate the vast openness of the Irish sea. They not only needed a guide but a guide with charts and compass. Someone that could be trusted, someone not easily bought buy the Duke’s shilling.
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