Questions 1-11 are based on the following
This passage is excerpted from Katherine Mansﬁeld, The Voyage. Originally published in 1921.
The Picton boat was due to leave at half-past eleven. It
was a beautiful night, mild, starry, only when they got out of
the cab and started to walk down the Old Wharf that jutted
out into the harbour, a faint wind blowing off the water
5 rufﬂed under Fenella's hat, and she put up her hand to keep it
on. It was dark on the Old Wharf, very dark; the wool sheds,
the cattle trucks, the cranes standing up so high, the little
squat railway engine, all seemed carved out of solid
darkness. Here and there on a rounded wood-pile, that was
10 like the stalk of a huge black mushroom, there hung a
lantern, but it seemed afraid to unfurl its timid, quivering
light in all that blackness; it burned softly, as if for itself
Fenella's father pushed on with quick, nervous strides.
Beside him her grandma bustled along in her crackling black
15 ulster; they went so fast that she had now and again to give
an undigniﬁed little skip to keep up with them. As well as her
luggage strapped into a neat sausage, Fenella carried clasped
to her her grandma's umbrella, and the handle, which was a
swan's head, kept giving her shoulder a sharp little peck as if
20 it too wanted her to hurry. Men, their caps pulled down, their
collars turned up, swung by; a few women all mufﬂed
scurried along; and one tiny boy, only his little black arms
and legs showing out of a white woolly shawl, was jerked
along angrily between his father and mother; he looked like a
25 baby ﬂy that had fallen into the cream.
Then suddenly, so suddenly that Fenella and her grandma
both leapt, there sounded from behind the largest wool shed,
that had a trail of smoke hanging over it, "MiaooooOO!"
"First whistle," said her father brieﬂy, and at that moment
30 they came in sight of the Picton boat. Lying beside the dark
wharf, all strung, all beaded with round golden lights, the
Picton boat looked as if she was more ready to sail among
stars than out into the cold sea. People pressed along the
gangway. First went her grandma, then her father, then
35 Fenella. They stepped out of the way of the hurrying people,
and standing under a little iron stairway that led to the upper
deck they began to say goodbye.
"There, mother, there's your luggage!" said Fenella's
father, giving grandma another strapped-up sausage.
40 "Thank you, Frank."
"And you've got your cabin tickets safe?"
"And your other tickets?"
Grandma felt for them inside her glove and showed him
45 the tips.
He sounded stern, but Fenella, eagerly watching him, saw
that he looked tired and sad.
"MiaooooOO!" The second whistle blared just above their
50 heads, and a voice like a cry shouted, "Any more for the
"You'll give my love to father," Fenella saw her father's
lips say. And her grandma, very agitated, answered, "Of
course I will, dear. Go now. You'll be left. Go now, Frank. Go
"It's all right, mother. I've got another three minutes." To
her surprise Fenella saw her father take off his hat. He
clasped grandma in his arms and pressed her to him. "God
bless you, mother!" she heard him say.
60 And grandma put her hand, with the black thread glove
that was worn through on her ring ﬁnger, against his cheek,
and she sobbed, "God bless you, my own brave son!"
This was so awful that Fenella quickly turned her back on
them, swallowed once, twice, and frowned terribly at a little
65 green star on a mast head. But she had to turn round again;
her father was going.
"Goodbye, Fenella. Be a good girl." His cold, wet
moustache brushed her cheek. But Fenella caught hold of the
lapels of his coat.
70 "How long am I going to stay?" she whispered anxiously.
He wouldn't look at her. He shook her off gently, and gently
said, "We'll see about that. Here! Where's your hand?" He
pressed something into her palm. "Here's a shilling in case
you should need it."
75 A shilling! She must be going away for ever! "Father!"
cried Fenella. But he was gone. He was the last off the ship.
The sailors put their shoulders to the gangway. A huge coil of
dark rope went ﬂying through the air and fell "thump" on the
wharf. A bell rang; a whistle shrilled. Silently the dark wharf
80 began to slip, to slide, to edge away from them. Now there
was a rush of water between. Fenella strained to see with all
her might. Was that father turning round? Or waving? Or
standing alone? Or walking off by himself? The strip of
water grew broader, darker. Now the Picton boat began to
85 swing round steady, pointing out to sea. It was no good
looking any longer.