by Val Wood
Presently Toby sat up and sat staring at her. ‘What is it Annie? Why do you keep sighing? Are you nervous?’
She shook her head. ‘No. I mean – aye, a bit. No, I’m sighing ’cos of this sewing. Mrs Trott cut it for me and I daren’t make a mess of it or she’ll have summat to say.’
He smiled and got off the bed and came over to her. He picked up the material and fingered it. ‘I wondered if you could manage it when you asked me if you could have it.’
‘I just fancied it that’s all. I thought how nice it would look inside that black cloak, and it’ll be that much warmer.’
She’d thought of lining the cloak when Mrs Trott had said that she could keep it, that she didn’t want it back, and Annie had wondered if the old woman had had a qualm of conscience about taking her satin petticoat and was trying to make amends.
But that wasn’t the reason that she was restless. Toby had said that she could stay on the river-bank to act as lookout. That she didn’t have to climb the ladder and go on board the Breeze, that she didn’t have to face his brother. And the annoying thing was that she wanted to.
It was cold by the side of the creek and she wrapped her cloak tightly about her. Toby and Josh had moved off towards the Breeze as soon as they received the signal, and as before, other boats appeared, coggy boats and cobbles slipping silently out from the reed-beds, rowing swiftly towards the waiting schooner. She had to keep a keen ear for the sound of hooves on the road above the boggy meadow, and a sharp eye on the shingle beaches of Hessle and North Ferriby in case the revenue men were watching and waiting to cast off in their cobbles as soon as the Breeze was discharged.
‘You must also watch the river,’ Toby had said. ‘The revenue cutters can move fast and be on top of us before we realize. Be ready to give a warning signal.’
She shivered, a fog was starting to descend, it clung to her hair and she pulled the hood of the cloak about her head. She listened intently. What was that? Some sound. She was unfamiliar with the sounds of the country and the rustling and croaking in the reed-beds and long grasses made her uneasy. She wanted to lift the lantern to frighten away the nocturnal creatures, but dared not show even a glimmer of light.
Ducks, she hoped, or those little black creatures with the red beaks that swim so fast. Or, she cringed, maybe water rats. I’ve seen plenty of them, and land rats, and the more I see of them the less fond of ’em I become.
Land rats and water rats. Land rats and water rats. River Rats. That’s name we were given, them as lived beneath the wharves. Scavengers all, dredging up a living. And here I am still, earning me crust by ’river bank with me feet wet and watching out for ’law.
She drew further towards the edge of the creek, holding on to the reeds so that she didn’t fall into the water and peered out down river. If the revenue ships were coming then they’d sail from the direction of Hull where they were based, she was almost sure.
The mist was thickening, shrouding the Breeze in a ghostly curtain so that only the skeleton of the ship, her masts and rails, stood superimposed, black and stark, against the grey background.
The tide was high and it washed against her feet. Tentatively she stretched her foot into the icy water feeling for the shingle. She reached bottom and gingerly put her foot down. It was firm and held her. She put down the other one, still holding on to the reeds. The water was almost to her knees but from this position she could see better, both up and down river.
She blinked. Were her eyes playing her tricks? She thought she could see in the distance a ghostly veil of sails. She listened, her head on one side and her hood thrown off. Did she hear the rush of water against a bow? She narrowed her eyes. Yes! The tall masts and square sails of a cutter were bearing fast up river towards the Breeze.
She let go of the reeds and prayed that the rush of water wouldn’t knock her off her feet as her fingers fumbled incompetently with the shutter of the lantern. What was the signal? For a second she forgot, then remembered. Two long, two short, then repeat in quick succession. She held her breath as she waited for an answering light. Two short. A query. Again she repeated the first signal and then, oh blessed relief as they signalled that they had understood.
Her relief was shortlived. From further up river she heard the muffled creaking of oars and as she leaned perilously out and strained to see through the fog she saw a flotilla of small boats appear from the banks, heading towards the schooner. She gasped. Revenue men! They’ll catch Toby and ’others as they come ashore, and ’cutter will catch ’Breeze. We’re done for! We’ll go to gaol!
But Toby’s men were already on their way. She could hear the heavy breathing of the oarsmen as they raced to beat the revenue men ashore, and they had a shorter distance to cover as they headed across from the middle of the river towards the banks, while the customs men were well up river, close to the North Ferriby shore.
‘Come on. Come on,’ she breathed. ‘Pull. Pull.’ She urged on these unknown men, willing them to find an extra ounce of energy to pull them to safety. Some of them veered away, going back down river towards Hessle where they could beach their square stern cobbles, stern first on to the shingle shore. Others headed for the hidden creeks and inlets which they knew of and the revenue men didn’t, being strangers to this area.
A shot rang out overhead. She jumped. It came from the cutter which was now sailing ever closer to the Breeze. Then came a warning shout and a volley of small arms fire; she saw the spark and crack from the deck. Immediately came an answering shot from the Breeze and the rattle of the capstan as the ship weighed anchor and prepared to sail. The sails were unfurled, they filled and she moved, her pointed bow cutting through the water.
Tide’ll be on ’turn any time. If onny he can bring her round, she’ll lose ’cutter. Her thoughts were on Toby’s brother and his ship, and she was startled when Toby suddenly appeared at her side, like her up to his knees in water as he waded towards her.
‘Where did tha come from, where’s ’boat?’ she whispered.
He put his finger to his lips and drew her back to the cover of the reeds. Then he pointed to the river. Three small boats were rowing towards the Breeze, the angry shouts of the men on board them clearly heard.
‘They lost us. We’ve stowed the coggy further down,’ he breathed. ‘Now they’re trying to catch the Breeze and they don’t stand a chance, and if they’re not careful they’ll get run down by the cutter.’
Another volley of gunfire rang out followed by answering shots from the Breeze. They held their breath, and Annie didn’t even notice the freezing water which was washing over her skirt and cloak, as they watched the sparks and flashes of the ammunition as the two ships exchanged fire.
‘Ready about.’
The muffled command carried across the water.
‘She’s turning. The cobbles will get struck if they don’t move.’
The revenue men in the small boats suddenly became aware of their danger as the Breeze, with its shallow draught and its fore and aft manoevrable rig, heeled towards them. They shouted in alarm and started to row in the direction of the Lincolnshire shore to escape being run down, but now they were in the way of the revenue cutter which was gaining fast on the Breeze.
The frenzied shouts of the cutter captain urged them in no uncertain language to get out of the way. His was a fast ship, but it was long and old, and hadn’t the turning power of the Breeze.
‘Heave to! Heave to!’
They heard the command, and watched as the captain tamed the power of the sails to avoid crashing into the cobbles, and listened with amusement as he cursed and swore at them from the deck, and heard too the laughter of the seamen on board the Breeze as it sailed swiftly past the cutter towards Hull on the ebb tide.
Annie lifted her head and put out her hand. ‘’Wind is rising. They’ll make it safely back to port.’
Toby nodded. ‘There might well be another customs ship waiting for her.’ He smiled. ‘But it won’t matter. We got everyth
ing off. You did well, Annie. You warned us just in time.’
‘But what about ’goods? We can’t risk carrying it.’
‘No. We’ll have to leave it for a while. The men have gone to ground and they’ll come back when they think it’s safe. The soldiers will be searching inland and the customs will bring their boats out in daylight to see what they can find. So we shall just have to keep our heads down for a few days until they get tired of searching.’
They tramped wearily back across country, both shivering with the cold and feeling the cling of their wet clothes against their legs. They climbed uphill so that they could approach Toby’s cottage from above, rather than keep to the river where they might bump into a stray revenue man making his way back from an unsuccessful night’s work.
Annie stopped. ‘Ow,’ she said. ‘I’ve just trodden on summat sharp.’ She leaned on Toby and lifted her foot to look, when without warning he grabbed her. He put his arms around her and kissed her hard on the mouth, pressing the weight of his body against her and pushing her hard against a tree.
For a moment she was too shocked and surprised to do anything. Then she caught her breath and pushed him away. ‘What do—?’
He put his hand over her mouth and pressed his head against her breast. ‘Ssh,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t say anything. Just kiss me as if I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.’
Again he pressed his mouth to hers and it wasn’t unpleasant, she thought, though it doesn’t set me on fire.
She kissed him back and as she opened her eyes wide saw the shape of a man standing in the shadows behind Toby. She gasped and pulled away, ‘’ere,’ she shouted. ‘What’s tha staring at? Paul Pry! Get off home. Peeping on decent folk.’
The man stepped forward. His head was covered by a black hat and he stood with his collar turned up, so that there was very little of his face to be seen.
‘I assure you I didn’t intend to pry. My business here is legitimate. I’m an officer of His Majesty’s Customs, and I would ask you what you are doing here so late at night?’
Toby opened his mouth to speak but Annie squeezed his hand to silence him. ‘Well, I’d say it was nowt to do wi’ thee or His Majesty, God bless him, but what does it look like? Can’t a lad and lass have a bit of privacy when they want it?’
The man remained unperturbed and folded his arms in front of him. ‘You.’ He nodded towards Toby. ‘What have you got to say for yourself. Does she always do all the talking?’
Toby swallowed. ‘Aye.’ His voice came out deep and husky. ‘She does.’
The man gave an impatient shrug. ‘I suppose it’s no use asking if you’ve seen anyone else about? Men carrying things?’
Annie sighed and put her arms around Toby’s waist and drew him closer. ‘We’ve been pretty busy, we wouldn’t have noticed; and now if tha doesn’t mind, we’ve got to get back home afore we’re missed.’
‘And where is home?’ asked Bernard Roxton.
‘Hessle.’ Toby answered quickly before Annie could answer. ‘We come from Hessle.’
Annie took off her cloak and wet skirt as Toby tried to coax the dead fire into life. ‘He’s horrible. I thought it was some ghoul coming out of ’wood. Then I realized who it was. I remembered what tha’d said about Roxton’s hat.’
‘I heard him, just as you stopped. I guessed there might be someone about but I thought it would be the militia. I thought Bernard Roxton would be down on the shore.’
‘Huh, maybe he doesn’t like getting his feet wet. Why don’t you leave that,’ she yawned. ‘We might as well go straight to bed. We’ll find dry kindling in ’morning.’
‘But you’re wet through to the skin. You’ll get a chill.’
She laughed. ‘No, I won’t. You might, but not me. I’ll soon warm up when I’m in bed. Them blankets are that soft and warm. I’ve never slept so comfortable as I have here.’
Toby’s blankets were of the softest ’thickest wool, nothing like the thin fabric she was used to. ‘Aye,’ she said as she climbed into the truckle. ‘I’m getting really spoiled.’
Toby came across to her. ‘You were really brave tonight, Annie. I was very proud of you.’ He knelt by the bed and leaning forward he kissed her forehead. ‘I wish—’
‘What does tha wish, Toby?’ she whispered with a trace of suspicion in her voice, though from the look in his eyes she thought she could guess, and she trembled. It was a pity. She had felt safe with him, unthreatened, living with him as a sister. But he was a man, after all, with bodily needs; and though she felt that he wouldn’t be brutal, for he had so far been very kind to her, she had been happy to live without the threat of a demanding body thrusting roughly into hers.
‘Oh, it’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.’ He got up and went to his own bed and blew out the lamp. She heard the soft sigh of the feathers as he climbed in.
‘Toby?’ she asked in the darkness. ‘How was thy brother?’
‘He’s well,’ he answered.
‘Good,’ she said in a still small voice.
‘He asked about you.’
She didn’t answer but smiled to herself as she snuggled down.
‘Yes,’ he said softly. ‘He asked if the ragamuffin was still with me.’
12
‘Just this one last trip. Then no more until spring. ’Weather’s good, I don’t know why tha’s worrying.’
‘You don’t know the weather up there,’ Toby answered her. ‘The snow can come down so suddenly the villages get cut off. You wouldn’t be able to get back.’
‘Then I’ll stop there ’till it thaws,’ she said. ‘Look, we’ve all this stuff to sell. Let me go. Me and Robin will make just one quick trip.’
The weather had been mild, fog by the river and some rain, but no snow so far and they couldn’t see any snowline up on the Wolds, not even looking through Toby’s glass.
Reluctantly he agreed. He’d bought a considerable amount of ends of range from the manufacturers. Lengths of linens with a slight flaw, which with judicious cutting could be made perfect. Muslins of last year’s shades and patterns, and coarse fustian cotton which the thrifty Wolds women favoured for its hard-wearing qualities, which had been lying on the dusty floor of the mill and needed only washing to bring it to pristine condition. All of these Toby would sell at low costs to satisfy his customers and still make a profit for himself.
‘Shall I come with you into Hessle?’ They loaded up the cart and Annie climbed into the cart and took up the donkey’s reins.
She shook her head. ‘I can manage. Ned’s getting used to me. I think he likes me better than he does Robin.’
‘Don’t forget what I said if you meet the revenue men. Be polite and for heaven’s sake don’t let them look under the blankets!’
She set off towards Hessle to pick up Robin. He had said, when he called to make the arrangements a few days ago, that he would come to meet her, but she’d told him there wasn’t any need for him to make the journey. She knew the way now and she would pick him up at his sister’s house.
The cart lumbered over the rutted lanes. It had rained steadily during the night and the ruts had filled with muddy water which splashed up the sides of the cart, and though the rain had stopped the trees dripped a heavy shower onto her. Annie pulled up her hood. She was glad that she had at last finished the lining to her cloak. It was warm and cosy and she was wearing her new skirt and a thick shirt belonging to Toby.
Her money bag beneath her petticoat had only a few coins in it, sufficient for her needs, for she had asked Toby to look after her money which had accumulated to an astonishing amount, comparable to the wages which Alan gave her when he came home from a whaling trip, but which, unlike this money, was always spoken for by the moneylender, the landlord, the butcher and various vendors who gave her credit when she was completely without a copper coin to her name.
Aye, I’m almost rich, she thought. I could buy me bairns new clothes and boots, good food to fatten ’em. And yet I daren
’t go back to fetch ’em. If ’law should be waiting for me! What shame they’d have. A criminal for a mother. Hanged at that. How would they ever live with that disgrace? Nay. Better they live without me. Forget I ever was, rather than live with knowledge of what I did.
Morbid thoughts always swamped her mind when she was alone. The fear of being found out and brought to justice filled her with dread and made her shake as if afflicted with ague.
She rattled into Hessle and thought what a prosperous town it seemed to be, though a little dusty from the chalk which was worked and processed from the quarries on the cliff. Ship-building, too, was a major industry in the town, and the ferry brought in trade from across the estuary on the main route from London and Lincoln through to York.
‘Come on Robin,’ she urged under her breath as she waited by the cottage door. ‘Tha’s never still in bed.’ She knocked again. It was nearly six o’clock, surely someone must be up. The doorbolt rattled and a sleepy-eyed child opened the door. ‘Is Robin here?’ She smiled down at the girl. She must be about eight, same as our Lizzie, she thought.
The little girl opened the door wider for Annie to enter and she caught the sound of a woman’s voice calling from behind a curtain which divided the room. ‘Is that Mrs Hope?’
‘Aye, it is. I’m looking for Robin.’
A weary-looking young woman who, Annie guessed, was Robin’s sister, pushed aside the curtain and came into the room brushing a tangle of hair from her face. ‘He’s sick. He’s got ’fever. He’ll not be fit to go travelling. I’ve been up all night with him and one of my bairns.’
‘Oh,’ said Annie, at a loss to know now what to do. ‘Can I see him? Is it owt catching?’
The woman pursed her lips and then shrugged. ‘I don’t know. One of my other bairns had it a week ago, so he’s maybe passed it on. But it’s not deadly,’ she added encouragingly, ‘he’s all right now and back at work.’
Annie followed her behind the curtain and found Robin, red and sweating beneath a pile of blankets and next to him a small boy, pale and languid and obviously most unwell. At the bottom of the bed were two other small boys, hale and hearty with wide grins on their dirty faces.
