"This the gel what Mrs Holland wants?" he said.
"You heard, have yer?" said Jim. "We got to get out o' Wapping. But she's got blokes on the bridges."
"You come to the right feller," said the boy. "I knows everything hereabouts. Everything there is to know, I knows it."
Paddy was the leader of a gang of mudlarks. He had made Jim's acquaintance when he and his pals had made the mistake of first stoning him and then meeting his answering fusillade with insults; Jim's aim was better, and his vocabulary was far richer than anything they could muster, and he earned their respect at once.
"But what are yer doing up this way?" whispered Jim. "I thought you never left the river bank?"
"Plans, matey. I got me eye on a collier in the Old Basin. Lucky for you, eh? Can yer swim?"
"No. Can you swim, Adelaide?"
She shook her head. She was still lying prone, her face to the wall. The passage they were in was roofed over, so they were out of the rain which was beating heavily on the street behind them, but a chilly stream was running down the passage from the gutter and soaking Adelaide's dress. Barefoot Paddy took no notice.
"Tide's on the turn," he said. "Let's be goin'."
"Come on," said Jim, tugging Adelaide up. They followed Paddy further into the passage, feeling their way in the darkness.
"Where's this?" whispered Jim.
"Animal Charcoal Works," came the reply from ahead. "There's a door just up here."
He stopped. Jim heard a key turning in a lock, and then the door creaked open.
The room they entered was cavernous and long, and the guttering flame of a candle lit only a corner of it. A dozen or more children, clad in rags, lay asleep on piles of sacking, while a wild-eyed girl a little older than Paddy held the candle. A foul, thick smell filled the air.
"Evening, Alice," said Paddy. "Two visitors."
She stared at them silent. Adelaide clung to Jim, who stared back, not at all abashed.
"We got to get 'em out o' Wapping," said Paddy. "Is Dermot on the barge?"
Alice shook her head.
"Send Charlie along to tell 'im then. You know what I mean."
She nodded at a small boy, who left at once.
"D'you live here?" said Jim.
"Aye. We keeps the rats down for rent, and sells 'em to the Fox and Goose for rattin'."
Jim looked around, and saw a pile of animal bones in a corner, with something stirring on them. The something pounced, and became a boy of five or six, nearly naked, who tottered to Alice with a squirming, lashing rat in his hands. She took it without a word and thrust it into a cage.
"You can stay here if you like," said Paddy. "Handsome doss, this."
"No, we got to move. Come on, Adelaide."
Jim tugged her hand. He was worried: she was so passive, so still. He'd have liked to see a bit of fight in her.
"This way, then," said Paddy, and led them through into an even larger, even fouler-smelling room. "Got to be careful here. We ain't s'posed to have a key. They keeps the furnaces going all night, so there's a watchman somewhere."
They passed through a succession of rooms and passages, pausing occasionally to listen for footsteps, but hearing none. Eventually they reached a cellar, in one corner of which was the bottom of a chute down which bones and horns and hooves were evidently tipped: it was slippery with fat and rancid with dried blood.
"How we supposed to get up that?" said Jim.
"What's the matter with it?" said Paddy. "Tasty."
He gave his candle to Adelaide and showed them how to climb the chute by bracing themselves against the sides. Jim took the candle and shoved Adelaide up, taking no notice of her protests, and after a minute they stood at the top in the fresh air and the rain. They were in a cobbled yard with a wire fence, opening on to an alley behind a public house.
Paddy tiptoed to the fence and looked through.
"All clear," he said.
Obstacles did not seem to exist for him. The wire fence looked solid and fixed, but he knew a spot where a staple had come out of the post, and where it could be lifted aside. He held it for the other two and they stepped through swiftly.
"Fox and Goose Yard," said Paddy. "The landlord here has our rats what we catch. We got to get across Wapping Wall now, and then we're at the river. 'S only a short step."
Wapping Wall was a street, not a wall, and took only a moment to cross; and almost opposite them was the entrance to King James's Stairs. Jim could see a tangle of masts and rigging and a gleam of water.
"We can get hold of a skiff down there," said Paddy. "Easy. Row yer home. You go down - I'll keep an eye open up here."
Jim and Adelaide moved down the dark passage between the buildings, and found themselves on a narrow little wharf. Beneath them vessels lay sideways on the mud; ropes ran up from them to bollards on the wharf, and the flight of stone steps led straight down on to the foreshore.
"Where do we go, Paddy?" said Jim, and turned - and then stopped.
Mrs Holland stood in the entrance. Paddy stood beside her.
Jim reached for Adelaide and put his arms around her. His mind racing. He could find only one word to say, and he said it to Paddy.
"Why?"
"Money, mate," was the reply. "Gotta live."
"There's a good boy," said Mrs Holland.
"I'll be back," said Jim. "I'll be back, and I'll find yer."
"You do that," said Paddy, pocketing the coin Mrs Holland gave him. Then he vanished.
"Well now," said Mrs Holland. "Seems like I got yer, yer little bitch. You can't run away now, 'cause Mr Berry's down there at the bottom o' the steps, and he'll twist yer head off. He does that with chickens, to keep his hand in. They runs around flapping their wings for a good five minutes after their heads is off. I made a little bet with him on how long you'd run about for, and he's awful keen to win it, so I wouldn't go down there if I was you. You're caught now, Adelaide. I got yer."
Jim could feel the child making little convulsive movements as he held her.
"What d'you want her for?" he said, and then he felt cold, because Mrs Holland looked directly at him for the first time, and he knew that she really was capable of having a child's head pulled off to see if she'd run about. She was capable of anything.
"I want to punish her for running away. I want all kinds of things out o' that child. Yes, come on up, Mr Berry."
Jim turned and saw the big man climbing the steps. The little light there was didn't reach his face, so he seemed to have no face at all, to be all shapeless malevolence. Adelaide pressed herself into Jim's side, and he looked around desperately for a way of escape, but there was none.
"It's Miss Lockhart you want, not Adelaide," he said. "You wants the Ruby, don't yer? Well, Adelaide don't bloody know where it is. Let her go."
The only light on the sodden waterfront was the dim gleam from a distant window; but for a second, another light seemed to shine out of Mrs Holland's eyes as she looked past Jim at Mr Berry. Jim turned and saw the big man raising his stick. He pushed Adelaide behind him.
"You try it, mate," he said, staring up at Mr Berry with all the daring he possessed.
The stick crashed down. Jim raised his arm, and caught the whole force of it on his elbow. He nearly fainted. He heard Adelaide cry out, and saw the stick raised again; and then he lowered his head and charged.
Mr Berry brushed him aside like a fly and dealt him another blow with the terrible stick - on the shoulder this time. Jim fell into waves of pain, and hardly knew he had fallen.
He tasted blood and heard a child's cry. He knew he had to help her, that was why he'd come. He forced his head round and found he couldn't get up; his arms wouldn't obey him. He struggled against the pain and found himself crying, to his deep shame and disgust. Adelaide was clinging to him, to his jacket, to his hand, to his hair - she was gripping him tight and he couldn't lift his arms to help her - Mr Berry was holding her around the neck with one hand and tearing her loose from Ji
m with the other; she was choking, her eyes were rolling, she was gasping - the big man was growling like a bear, his lips were drawn back from his broken teeth, his red eyes glowed closer and closer, he had her loose, he lifted her higher -
"Put her down," said Frederick Garland. "Put her down at once or I'll kill you."
Mr Berry stood still. Jim wrenched his head round. Frederick was standing limply, one hand against the wall. His face was terribly marked. An eye was closed, his mouth was swollen, one cheek was blackened and cut, and he was shaking all over. Mrs Holland stood and watched comfortably.
"How?" said Mr Berry.
"Put her down and find out," said Frederick.
"I thought I sorted you out," said Mr Berry.
"You're losing your touch, Mr Berry," said Mrs Holland. "Mind you, he's a game chicken, this one. That makes four times now he's crossed my path. I want him dead, Mr Berry. Give me the girl."
Adelaide was as limp as a doll. Mr Berry dropped her and Mrs Holland seized her at once.
"He'll kill yer, Fred," croaked Jim.
"No he won't," said Frederick thickly.
Then Mr Berry ran at him, and Frederick dodged. Never, never, Jim thought, he'll never live. But he's brave, though.
Frederick took a blow to the head, and fell, but twisted out of reach of Mr Berry's boots. He ain't got his stick, thought Jim, he must've dropped it to pick Adelaide up; and then Frederick reached the wall and pushed sideways, sweeping his leg around to bring the big man down.
He fell like a tree, and Frederick was on him at once, pummelling and punching and gouging and twisting - but he was so slight and so weakened that his blows were like those of a child. Mr Berry brought up an arm like an oak beam and swept Frederick aside. Jim struggled frantically to get up, and put his weight on the damaged arm for a moment, only to find it collapsing the wrong way under him. He crumpled at once into such a blaze of pain as he had never imagined. His head struck something loose as he fell; the stick, he thought, and fainted.
Another second and he was awake again, to find Frederick on his knees a yard away, shielding himself from a barrage of blows that thundered down on his shoulders and head. He struck out in reply, and missed with three blows for every one that landed - but he was so weak now that his punches would hardly have hurt Adelaide. Jim twisted and reached out with his good arm till it found the stick. I'm going to die of this pain, he thought, I can't bear it - but look at Fred - he won't stop - nothing'll stop him, he's like me, he is - he's a good 'un -
"Here y'are, Fred," he said, and thrust the stick at him. Frederick felt it in his hands before Mr Berry saw what was happening, and the feel of it seemed to give him strength. He put both hands round it and jabbed it forward into the big man's stomach. Mr Berry gasped, and Frederick did it again, and scrambled to his feet.
They were a yard or so from the edge of the wharf. Frederick knew this was his last chance. Some ghostly remnant of his fencing came back, and he balanced himself and lashed forward. He could hardly see; both eyes were filled with blood; but he felt the stick connect, and heard Jim's cry, "This way! This way, Fred!"
He struck again, and wiped his eyes. Jim hurled himself at the big man's knees, and, tangled, Mr Berry fell - just at the edge of the wharf. Frederick struck again; Mr Berry raised himself to his knees, and swung his fist at Jim, catching him on the ear. Jim fell, but the big man was off balance. Frederick saw his chance, and with the last of his strength swung the stick.
Mr Berry disappeared.
Jim was lying still. Frederick fell to his knees and was sick. Jim pulled himself to the edge and looked over. There was silence.
"Where is he?" said Frederick, through thick lips and broken teeth.
"Down there," said Jim.
Frederick crawled to the edge. There was a stone platform a yard or so wide at the foot of the jetty; Mr Berry lay sprawled half across this and half across the mud. His neck was broken.
"You done it," said Jim. "We done it. We killed him."
"Where's Adelaide?"
They looked around. The wharf was empty. The rain had stopped, and the puddles gleamed in the dim light. Below them on the mud the lowest boats were stirring and slowly righting themselves, as if they were rising from their graves; but it was only the tide coming in. Jim and Frederick were alone. Adelaide had gone.
Chapter Eighteen
LONDON BRIDGE
Much later, Sally awoke. The hands of the kitchen clock had advanced to midnight, and the fire had burned low. Trembler was asleep in the armchair. Everything was familiar - except herself; for she had changed, and so the world had changed. She could hardly believe what had happened... Except that it explained everything.
Trembler woke up with a start.
"Good God, miss! What's the time?"
"Midnight."
"Have you - oh, no, I didn't fall asleep, did I?"
She nodded. "It doesn't matter."
"You all right, miss? I'm awful sorry -"
"No, no, I'm fine."
"You look proper shocked, as if you've seen a ghost. Let me make you a cup o' tea. And I said I'd stay awake... Fat lot o' good I am."
Sally wasn't listening. Trembler got up and touched her shoulder.
"Miss?"
"I've got to find the Ruby. I've got to have it."
She stood up and moved to the window, looking distracted, beating her hands together gently. Trembler stood away, alarmed, and gnawed his moustache. Then he spoke again.
"Miss, wait till Mr Frederick gets back -"
There was a rattle at the door. Trembler sprang to unlock it, and a moment later Rosa was in the kitchen, cold and wet and cross.
"What on earth have you got the door locked for? Ugh - what a night! And the house less than half-full, and a miserable bunch they were - Sally, what's the matter? What is it? What's that smell?"
She wrinkled her wet nose, and brushed the water out of her eyes as she looked around and saw the ash and the matches on the table.
"What's this? Not opium?"
Trembler came back before Sally could speak. "It was my fault, Miss Rosa," he said quickly. "I let her do it."
"And what's happened to you?" She dropped her cloak on the floor and hurried to look at his bruised eye and cheek. "What in the world has been going on? Where's Fred?"
"Adelaide's gone," said Trembler. "Mrs Holland come with some great big bruiser and snatched her in the street. Mr Fred and that young Jim went after 'em."
"When?"
"Hours back."
"Oh my God - Sally, why the opium?"
"I had to. Now I've got to find the Ruby, because I know all about it. Oh, Rosa, I'm -"
Her voice shook, and she put her arms around Rosa and broke into a sudden sobbing. Rosa embraced her and sat her down gently.
"What is it, love? What's the trouble?"
Her cold wet hands soothed Sally's cheeks. In a moment or so Sally shook her head and sat up straight, wiping away the tears with rough fingers.
"I've got to find that ruby. That's the only way I'll ever finish this business off. I've got to work it out..."
"Wait there," said Rosa.
She ran upstairs and was back in under a minute. She dropped something on the table - something heavy, wrapped in a handkerchief; something that glinted in the linen folds.
"I don't believe it," said Trembler.
Sally looked at her in pure astonishment.
"It was Jim," Rosa explained. "He - you know these stories he's always reading - I suppose he thinks like a sensational novelist. He worked it out some time ago. It was in a pub in Swaleness, apparently - I can't remember the details - but he kept it away from you because he thought there was a curse on it and he didn't want you hurt. Do you know what he thinks of you, Sally? He worships you. But he brought it to me today because he thought I'd know what to do. He told me the whole story just before I left for the theatre, so I didn't have time to tell you earlier on. It's Jim you've got to thank. Anyway... There it is.
"
Sally reached out and opened the handkerchief. In the centre of the crumpled whiteness was a dome of blood - a stone the size of the top joint of a man's thumb, containing all the redness in the world. It seemed to draw in the light of the nearby lamp and magnify it, and change it, and cast it out again as visible heat; and inside it was that shimmering drugged landscape of caverns, ravines, abysses, which had so mesmerized Major Marchbanks. Sally felt her head swim and her eyelids droop... Then she closed her hand around it. It was hard and small and cold. She stood up.
"Trembler," she said, "take a cab now and go to Hangman's Wharf. Tell Mrs Holland that I have the Ruby, and I will meet her in the middle of London Bridge in an hour's time. That's all."
"But -"
"I'll give you the money. Do it, Trembler. You - you fell asleep while I was in my Nightmare; please do this."
A spasm crossed her face as she said this, as if she hated reminding him of his failure. He bowed his head and shuffled into his greatcoat.
Rosa jumped up.
"Sally - you can't! You mustn't! What are you thinking of?"
"I can't explain now, Rosa. But I will soon. And you'll see I've got to meet her."
"But -"
"Please, Rosa, trust me. This is the most important thing - the only thing - you can't understand... I couldn't understand myself, before..."
She indicated the ashes of the opium, and shuddered.
"At least let me come with you," said Rosa. "You can't go alone. Tell me on the way."
"No. I want to meet her alone. Trembler, you're not to come there yourself. Just send her."
He looked up guiltily, and then nodded and left.
Rosa went on: "I'll let you go on to the bridge alone but I'm coming as far as there with you. I think you're crazy, Sally."
"You don't know -" Sally began, but shook her head. "All right. Thank you. But you promise to let me meet her alone. You've got to promise not to interfere, whatever happens."
Rosa nodded. "All right," she said. "I'm starving. I'm going to eat a sandwich on the way."
She cut a slice of bread from the loaf on the sideboard and spread it thickly with butter and jam.
"Ready for anything," she said. "And sopping wet. You're mad, you're insane. A lunatic. Come on; it's a long walk."
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