Bill and The Mary Ann Shaughnessy

by Catherine Cookson

  It must have been all of an hour later when he dragged himself to his feet and stumbled across the fenland in the direction of the boat. The going was rough and the jumping of the dykes too much for him, so he had to traverse their length until he found a plank bridge by which to cross, then retrace his steps until he picked up the familiar scent again.

  When eventually he came limping to the place where the boat had been, he sniffed the ground then lay down and stared at the dark water, and once more he tried to lick the pain out of his tail.

  He turned his head slowly when he heard the footsteps. They were mixed footsteps, human ones and those of his own kind, and when the bitch came up with a low growl and sniffed cautiously at him he made no response, but he blinked into the light that was flashing in his eyes. Then a soft hand was gently tapping his head and a man’s voice was saying, ‘What’s this? What’s this, old chap? I know you.’

  The man was from a cottage some distance down the river. He had helped in the search for Joe, and he had talked to Jonathan and Malcolm about this very dog because his Flo, who was of uncertain temper, had taken an unusual liking to the bull terrier and had gambolled along the bank with him. And now here was the beast bleeding from both ends and, if he wasn’t mistaken, from what he could see of its tail the end had been shot clean off. That was no trap snip.

  ‘Come on, boy,’ he said gently. ‘Come on.’

  Bill pulled himself slowly to his feet, but he did not follow the man along the bank; instead he walked into the dark, and then the light shone on him again and the man said, ‘Not that way, boy, not that way. Come on home and I’ll fix you up, then I’ll find out what this is all about.’

  But Bill still stood, and when the man came up and bent down to him Bill put out his tongue and licked his hand, then turned away and walked into the darkness again.

  Standing still, the man watched him through the light of the torch, and when Bill stopped once more to see if he was following he shook his head. He knew the way of animals; he had dealt with them all his life. This beast was trying to lead him somewhere over the fens, but it was no place to walk in the dead of the night, so saying ‘Stay boy! Stay!’ he approached Bill and, picking him up in his arms with no protest whatsoever from Bill now, he retraced his footsteps along the bank and to his home.

  But when once he entered his house Bill would have none of it. Although weak on his legs he stood scratching at the door until the man’s wife said, ‘Let him out; you can see he wants to go some place.’

  ‘And I’m going some place,’ said the man tersely. ‘I’m going to get onto the phone to the police. I don’t like this at all. This beast has been shot, and the boys’ boat has gone from along the river. It was there two hours ago, I’ll swear.’

  ‘Well, you’d better take him along with you; he’ll go mad if he’s left in here,’ said the woman.

  A few minutes later the man stood in the telephone kiosk on the main road while Bill lay outside the door waiting. After the man had explained to the police about Bill and the condition he was in, also the disappearance of the boat from the bank, the station officer asked where he was, and when he told him he was asked to stay exactly there and a patrol car would be with him in a few minutes.

  And it was only a few minutes before the patrol car came to a stop outside the kiosk, and two policemen got out. The policemen, too, knew Bill, as they had also helped in the search for Joe, and they looked from him to the man as he said, ‘Those boys were bats about this animal; I can’t imagine them going off and leaving him, in fact I wouldn’t believe it for a minute. I don’t know what’s happened but the whole thing seems fishy to me. We’d better check it out—and get this fellow to a vet.’

  ‘That boat going down the river in the dark, turning into the Brandon.’ One policeman was looking at the other now. ‘You remember? I remarked then that it looked like the boys’ boat, and didn’t I say they were leaving it late and looking for more trouble being on the river in the dark?’

  ‘Yes.’ The other policeman nodded, then said to the man, ‘Thank you very much; we’ll look into this.’ And turning to Bill he said, ‘Come on, boy, get in.’ He opened the back of the car, but again Bill would have none of it. However he was in no condition to resist for long and he found himself being lifted onto the back seat.

  ‘You’ll let me know what’s happened?’ said the man.

  ‘As soon as we find out we’ll let you know,’ said one of the policemen. ‘And thank you very much.’

  The policemen did not find The Mary Ann Shaughnessy berthed round the corner of the Brandon near The Ship Inn as they thought they would, and so, flashing their torches, they went along the bank with Bill limping behind them. It wasn’t until they made to retrace their steps that Bill stopped, then moved on again and stopped again, squinting up at them through the strong light when they told him to stay.

  The policemen looked at each other, one saying, ‘What do you make of it?’

  ‘He wants us to follow him, I’m sure of that. Look, hang on here and don’t let him out of your sight while I go back to the car and report that we are on the Brandon bank and give them the situation.’

  The policeman who was left on the bank dropped on to his hunkers and called softly, ‘Here boy! Here!’ And after a moment’s hesitation Bill came to him and flopped down wearily at his feet. The blood on his tail had clogged now, and his coat too was covered with blood and dirt, making him look a sorry sight, and the policeman said just that. ‘Poor old chap, you do look in a mess; I wonder how you came by it, eh?’ Soothingly he drew his fingers over Bill’s back and Bill closed his eyes and rested until the sound of the other policeman returning brought his head up and to the alert again.

  The policeman rose to his feet, asking, ‘What did they say?’

  ‘They seem to be onto something,’ said his companion tersely. ‘Ramsey spoke to Inspector Morley in the main office and then the Inspector got on direct to me. I think he’s got a hunch; something to do with another boat. Anyway, he’s coming out himself, and he’s ordering two more patrol cars to come over the fens. Hockley from Ely will likely lead them because he knows the fens like the back of his hand, and he’d need to, to bring the car across here in the dark. The Inspector’s making for Brockle’s old house along the bank here. You know, the empty place out in the wilds that used to be a pub. He says we are not to go near it, just hang around until they come. From where we are now he says the cars should be there almost as soon as we are, so come on, let’s get moving. Come on, boy.’

  Bill didn’t need any command. As if he had understood every word, he was already walking well ahead along the narrow path on the high river bank. Once he stopped and his front legs seemed to buckle under him, but before the policemen could reach him he was moving again, and one man remarked admiringly to the other, ‘He’s a bull terrier all right; he’ll hang on till he drops. The more I look at him the more I feel that he and the Inspector are definitely onto something. You know, he’s not unlike the Inspector, in looks I mean.’ At this they both laughed.

  It was some time later, after much stumbling and grunting, that one said to the other, ‘How much further for goodness’ sake?’

  ‘Another five minutes I think and we should see it round the next bend.’

  But when they rounded the next bend, they did not see the house, which was shrouded in darkness, but they saw a light coming from a boat in the river. And Bill too saw it, and he was about to make his way down from the high bank to the lower river bank when the taller of the two policemen called softly, ‘Stay boy! Stay!’ And Bill, answering as always the command of stay, stood hesitating for just long enough to let the policeman get hold of his collar.

  ‘Quiet boy! Quiet!’ He crouched down on the bank, holding him while he whispered to the other constable, ‘Go along and have a squint. Be careful, though.’

  As the policeman went cautiously along the bank Bill struggled to follow him, but the man holding him whispered soothingly,
‘There boy! There! All in good time. All in good time.’

  A few minutes later the figure of the other policeman came scrambling out of the darkness, saying urgently, ‘Come on, there’s something wrong. The boys are asleep, or apparently so on a bunk. And there’s that big fellow, you remember, from The Night Star, the one the Inspector thought he could remember but couldn’t find any trace of in the files, well he’s in there. He went into the galley, came out and looked at the boys, then went in again…Come on.’

  Once the policeman had let loose of Bill he was away, running drunkenly down the bank towards the boat, and he had just reached the bows when a man pulled himself upwards with the intention of jumping off. Stopping in surprise for a moment, he flashed his torch over the bared teeth and bristling body confronting him and he muttered thickly, ‘God! You again. He said he had finished you.’

  ‘No, he’s lived to tell the tale.’ The voice coming out of the darkness brought the man’s hand to the iron handle of the starter that was lying on the locker, and the policemen, now standing one at each side of the hatch, looked at Sloper, and one said, ‘I wouldn’t if I were you.’

  Bill, scratching the earth and growling, was now making tentative dives to cover the distance from the bank to the narrow deck, but the bows were turned outwards, and in his condition he was fully aware that he would never make it, but Sloper didn’t realise this, and it was evident that he was more afraid of the dog at the moment than he was of the policeman for, backing to the further side of the cockpit, he muttered, ‘Keep that beast away from me, he’s mad.’

  ‘I think he’s got reason to be,’ said the other policeman. ‘Somebody’s been treating him rather roughly. Do you know anything about it?’

  ‘Me? No; why should I? What you want?’ he now demanded as the policeman, stretching out, threw his leg over the gunwale.

  ‘Just to have a word with the boys.’

  Sloper was now standing with his back to the saloon door and he said, ‘They’re asleep. They’ve had a tough day. They’re asleep. Better not disturb them.’

  ‘Well, I’m afraid we’ll have to disturb them. They’ve deserted their dog. It isn’t like them, is it?’

  When Sloper didn’t answer or move, the tall policeman flashed his light over him, saying, ‘Go on inside.’

  ‘I’m busy; I’ve got to get back on board me own boat.’

  ‘There’s plenty of time for that. We’d like a word with you. Open the door.’

  Sloper didn’t open the door; instead he did a surprising thing. He lifted his hands and cupping them over his mouth, he yelled into the night, ‘The cops, boss! The cops! THE COPS!’ Then punching viciously right and left he threw the policemen off their balance, knocking one over the engine top. But as he made a dive for the side of the boat and the bank there, confronting him was Bill, barking loudly now. The deterrent was enough to give one of the policemen time to recover, to grab Sloper’s legs and to pull him down into the cockpit again.

  ‘Put the bracelets on him,’ gasped the tall policeman, and while he brought Sloper’s wrists together the other man clipped the handcuffs on him and, dragging him to his feet, said to his companion, ‘Now open that door.’

  The policeman opened the door, and the next moment exclaimed in awe. ‘My God! Gas.’ Then, putting a handkerchief over his mouth and flashing his torch, he ran past the sleeping boys and into the galley, and there he turned off the two gas taps that fed the grill and kettle ring. Pulling open the cupboard doors he looked for the cylinder, and when he found it he found the valve full open.

  Coming into the saloon again he flashed his torch about until he found the light switch. Then he shook first Malcolm and then Jonathan, but their bodies remained limp. After pulling down their eyelids and looking for signs of gassing he turned to the other policeman who was at his side now and whispered, ‘They’re lucky. The gas hasn’t had time to affect them, but they’ve been drugged. Let’s get them out of here and into the air.’

  But as they bent over the inert forms Bill’s barking suddenly ceased. A strong beam of light flooded the boat and a crisp-sounding voice came out of the darkness, saying, ‘I’ve got you covered. Now do as I tell you or you won’t live to tell the tale.’

  The policemen reacted by moving slowly into the cockpit, but Bill’s reaction was to scurry along the bank into the tall grass. He knew that voice. He connected it with the man who had aimed a small stick at him, out of which a ball of fire had come and torn off his ear, and the same stick had taken off the end of his tail. From his cover on the bank he lay growling low down in his great chest, and waited.

  The voice said now, ‘Put him over the side, and try any tricks and I won’t hesitate.’

  The policemen couldn’t see the speaker, but when Sloper, handicapped as he was, went to scramble over the side of the boat one of the policemen made a grab at him, and as he did so there came a whizz of a bullet within a foot of his head and the voice said again, ‘That should convince you I’m not playing; it’ll be on the mark next time. Now unloosen those bracelets before I count five.’

  One of the policemen took the keys from his pocket, and making a pretence of unloosening Sloper he pulled him sharply round and holding him as a shield shouted, ‘Go on then, shoot!’

  There was silence from the bank for a moment; then the voice came from another position, saying, ‘From where I’m standing now I can see one of the boys plainly. I’ll give you another five and then I’ll shoot.’

  The voice from the bank had only reached three when the policeman called, ‘He’s loose, but neither of you will be loose for long, the place is surrounded. Don’t think you’ll get away.’

  As Sloper scrambled ashore the voice came again. ‘I’ve got a surprise for you,’ it was saying. ‘If you’re hoping for assistance from the fens you’re going to be disappointed. We saw to the wooden bridge some time ago. Any car attempting to cross it would find itself in a rather deep and dangerous dyke.’

  The voice, now addressing Sloper, became brisk.

  ‘Pull up the rond anchors and take the tie ropes off the cleats, and push her well out into the river…No doubt you can swim, coppers.’ The voice came at them now. ‘But a couple of bullets below the watermark will keep you busy saving the occupants, and by the time you reach the bank again you’ll find everything on the fenland quiet once more.’

  Quickly Sloper obeyed the orders, and The Mary Ann Shaughnessy left the bank, swaying a little as Sloper pushed at her bows with the boathook, and within a minute or so she was making for the middle of the river. As her bows swung away from the torch the tall policeman, tearing off his uniform jacket and crouching down to loosen his boots, whispered hoarsely, ‘Get your things off, Arthur, quick!’ And the other policeman was in the act of unloosening his shoelaces when the promised bullet hit the boat, shuddering her for a moment but spurring the policemen to greater efforts to be rid of their clothes. It was as the tall policeman raised his head cautiously above the gunwale that they heard the dreadful growl followed by a scream, and this was followed by a spate of frantic broken orders, ‘Sloper! Sloper!…the gun. Get it…get him!’

  ‘The dog’s got him,’ exclaimed the tall policeman excitedly. ‘Look! You stay aboard; you can’t drift far, there’s no wind. I’ll swim ashore and with the help of that dog I may be able to get them. Give me the bracelets and my truncheon.’

  As he pushed the handcuffs and truncheon into his back pocket the other man asked, ‘What if she sinks?’

  ‘She won’t go that fast with one bullet hole. There should be a bilge pump around here somewhere. Find it and, if it’s filling, start pumping.’

  As the tall policeman dropped quietly over the side of the boat and into the water, saying, ‘Listen to that; he must be still hanging on,’ the other one said to him, ‘Be careful now. It’s not just fun and games with those fellows.’

  There was no answer to this advice except the soft splash of the water and all the while the yelling and cursing comin
g from the bank and the frenzied command of ‘Grab him! Grab him!’

  Sloper, falling and stumbling on the steep bank in the dark, found it impossible to obey this order, for Bill was clinging to Mr Leech’s shoulder and, as the enraged and now frightened man swung round, Bill swung with him. The only chance Sloper would have had of doing Bill further injury would have been if his master had stood still for a moment, but you don’t stand still with a bull terrier’s jaws clamped on the thick of your neck, and his legs clawing at your back.

  His torch and gun gone, Mr Leech, at the mercy of the enraged animal, seemed to go mad. At last, in desperation he stumbled down the bank and flung himself into the river. Down he plunged but when he surfaced again his companion was still with him.

  He was holding on to the bank and repeating the process when the policeman scrambled from the water only a few yards away. The policeman did not stop to attend to this part of the situation for from what he could hear the bull terrier was doing very nicely. It was the other fellow he had to tackle, and he was directed to him by his grunts and muttered curses as he searched in vain for the gun and the torch.

  Sloper did not hear the policeman’s approach until the man was almost on top of him, and when straightening up, he discerned the dark bulk towering over him he brought his fist with lightning speed towards the policeman’s stomach. But the blow, although it reached its target, did not carry its full force because the truncheon had brought him a glancing blow on the shoulder, and when it came down for a second time on the side of his head his bulky body doubled up slowly to lie in a heap on the bank.

  The policeman bent over double for a moment as he tried to ease the pain of the blow, and as he did so there came to him the sound of running footsteps, and, crouching down near the recumbent body of Sloper, he waited. He didn’t know how many more there were but he felt he could deal with them one at a time. When they were some yards from him the footsteps divided, some going down the bank to where Mr Leech was still shouting from the river, but without so much ferocity now; the others obviously moving slowly towards him, and when the torch picked him up he was standing poised with his truncheon at the ready.