It only recently occurred to me that I have at least one scene involving a voyage by sea in every single one of the nine books I’ve written. As I write this post I am getting ready for my own major sea voyage – a round-the-world cruise for four months. This has to be more than accidental – although I have never been on a cruise before – apart from a river trip up the Douro Valley in Portugal.

I suspect it’s because the sea must be in my blood. My mother’s father was a Master Mariner, captaining ships all around the globe. He moved his family from Dublin to Liverpool as he was more often in port there. At one point he contemplated taking a job in New Zealand – which would have meant I’d never have been born. Sadly for him, his eyesight began to fail and he lost his Master’s ticket and being too proud to sail as a mate, ended up having to work casually on the docks, where he was killed in a terrible accident with a winch. The incident merited only a short paragraph in the Liverpool papers – with the coroner remarking that this type of accident was “all too common”. This is him on the right in the photo on the left – presumably somewhere in the tropics based on what he’s wearing.

My grandmother knew what she was letting herself in for when she married him as her own father was an able seaman and several of her brothers and uncles were merchant sailors too. My great-grandfather was killed at sea when his merchant ship was sunk just after Christmas 1917 by a German U-boat. I turned this tragic event into a short story recently.  The SS Adela was crossing between Dublin and Liverpool on the night of December 27th 1917 when it was torpedoed. The ship was defensively armed but didn’t stand a chance. It was transporting cattle and one lady passenger. Twenty-four lives were lost (plus the livestock) with the only survivor being the captain. He had rescued half a dozen other crew into his lifeboat but some got washed overboard in the rough sea and others died of exposure before they were picked up. My great grandfather was not one of them – he was probably killed instantly or drowned soon after the ship was hit. Most of the lifeboats were destroyed in the initial impact. This plaque on the south bank of the River Liffey in Dublin marks the tragedy.

While my dad’s side of the family produced no sailors as far as I know, his widowed aunt, needing to work to support her kids, became a cabin steward for The White Star Line, travelling between Liverpool and America – and then frequently to Australia.

As to my own sailing credentials – I did a sailing course, run by the Italian navy, in Sardinia. It was only six months after I moved to Italy to work and my Italian was not fantastic so I had some difficulties understanding the tuition, constantly managing to capsize the boat and ending up failing to get my patente – something I didn’t lose much sleep over! One of my sisters has kept up the family tradition. She and her husband have a sailing yacht they keep in Venice (he’s half Venetian) and I have crewed for them, sailing between Greece and Italy. (For crewed –  read responsible for mixing gin and tonics and hanging wet swimwear from the rigging!). This is me actively crewing!

The sea plays a major role in my new novel which will be published in June 2019. The book, called Storms Gather Between Us, is set mainly in Liverpool, in 1938-39 and the main character is a merchant seaman – an able seaman like my great grandfather. The book is already written, so I was not able to benefit from the first-hand experience I’ll be getting on my cruise. The book is a sequel to A Greater World – although with secondary characters now moving into leading roles.

So now, my sea-legs will be well and truly tested as the SS Columbus becomes my home for the next four months. I will try and post the odd update and photographs – watch my Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.

Image credits : Author’s own family collection, image of the sea by Thierry Meier on Unsplash