New World

by Jo Macauley

  Beth was breathing more easily now, and reached up to wring the cold, muddy water from her hair. “Of course ... not!” she panted. “I mean breath control, that’s all.” Seeing John and Ralph looking blank, she explained, “All actors need to master their breathing, for projection and stamina.” She coughed a little again, shivering. “You’ve heard some of the speeches they make us recite, haven’t you? Those things are long.”

  “So you just held your breath?” said Ralph.

  “I slowed my breathing down until the trunk had completely filled up with water. Then I held my breath, for as long as I could, at least. Thank goodness you got me out in time...” She looked up at the tower, suddenly alert. “So what happened? Did you see where they went? Where’s Vale?”

  “He’s gone,” John said.

  Beth’s face fell. “We need to get after him!” She started to run, then staggered to a halt and coughed up another load of Thames water. “Can’t ... let him escape.” She fell to her knees.

  “Oh, no you don’t!” John gently lifted Beth back to her feet. She gave him a bleary smile of thanks. “I don’t think you’re in any condition to go chasing off after anyone,” he said.

  Beth blew out her cheeks. “I’m as strong as an ox!”

  Ralph and John looked at one another.

  “Nice try,” Ralph said.

  Beth sighed. “I don’t suppose we’d catch up with Vale’s carriage anyway.” She looked upriver towards the lights of central London. “We need to work out where he’s gone, though. Strange will skin us alive if he hears we let Vale get away.”

  “Most of his men left with him,” John pointed out. “We should head back inside the tower now it’s a bit safer to sneak around. See what we can find out.”

  “Good idea.” Beth started towards the tower, but Ralph stopped her with a firm restraining arm.

  “You aren’t coming,” he said. “You need to go home and get some rest.”

  Beth swatted feebly at Ralph. “Get off me!” She broke into a fresh burst of coughing.

  “Listen to yourself,” Ralph said quietly, but with gentle persistence. “You’ve water in your lungs. How are you going to sneak about in there if you can’t go two minutes without coughing or sneezing, eh? Someone will hear.”

  Beth glared at him sullenly. “I’ll just go back to the cottage and make us all some toasted muffins like a good little housemaid, then, shall I?”

  “Go back to your lodgings and go to bed, for God’s sake,” Ralph insisted. “It’s freezing out here and you’re soaked through!”

  “You’re lucky to be alive, Beth,” John said. “Ralph’s right. You should rest.”

  Now that she wasn’t fighting for her life, Beth was suddenly feeling cold and tired. Maybe she had done enough for one night. She trusted them to do the rest of the job well.

  “I’ll be at the Peacock and Pie, then,” she told them grudgingly. “Only ’til I get my strength back, though.”

  * * *

  Not long after, Beth had set off in the cottage’s little rowboat, while Ralph and John were making their way back into the tower. It was a lot easier to get in now that Ralph’s rope was already hanging from the beam. Nobody was waiting inside the uppermost room, and all the chests had gone. Cautiously, moving with their backs to the wall, John and Ralph began their search.

  It quickly became apparent that only two guards had been left in the building, and they were helping themselves to what was left of the food – and clearly drink, judging from their increasing sloppiness and loud voices. John was sure that Vale really had abandoned this roost, leaving only a skeleton crew behind in case something went wrong.

  But where was he heading to now? A place like this was perfect for a criminal like him to hide out in. It was secure, outside the city, and – as they’d discovered – not easy to see inside. So why abandon it?

  Opposite the main bedroom lay an office they hadn’t had the chance to explore before. By the light of an oil lamp, John leafed through papers while Ralph stood watch by the door.

  “Found anything?”

  “It’s mostly shipping records,” John murmured. “Cargoes of this and that, back and forth to America. He’s dealing in tobacco and sugar. And slaves.”

  “Is that so,” Ralph said. “What a lovely bloke.”

  “There’s just too much stuff here. We could search for hours and not find anything but— Wait!”

  John triumphantly held up an insignificant-looking scrap of paper. “We’ve got him, Ralph. It was staring us in the face. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before.”

  “Think of what?”

  “Dorcas. She’s not a person at all. She’s a ship!”

  John’s finger traced the words on the shipping invoice he’d found. The trunks they’d seen upstairs had been booked onto a ship called the Dorcas. By the look of it, Vale had paid extra to take such a huge amount of luggage with him.

  “Maybe he’s not just quitting this tower,” Ralph said. “Maybe he’s quitting the whole country. Start all over again in a foreign land, like.”

  John pocketed the invoice. “We find that ship and we find him. That name ring any bells?”

  “Not to me,” Ralph admitted. “Let’s get out of here, eh? We’ve got what we came for.”

  John’s heart pounded as they made their way back up the stairs. Everything now depended upon their reaching Strange with this information. He was sure he’d find the rope cut, or guards waiting to ambush them. The name Dorcas kept going around and around in his mind. He racked his brains to try and remember if he’d ever seen the ship before, but came up with nothing but a maddening blank.

  Despite his fears, they made it back out of the tower without anyone trying to stop them. But as they reached the bank of the river and began the journey back, John stopped in his tracks.

  “Look at the river, Ralph. The tide’s going out.”

  “So?”

  “Nobody with half a brain tries to navigate the Thames at low tide, do they? If Vale’s taking a journey from the Port of London, his ship won’t be leaving until the tide’s full again.”

  “Then there’s still time to catch him!” Ralph said. “That settles it. We won’t have time to speak to Strange. We’ve got to get to the docks, and fast!”

  Chapter Nine - To the Land of Liberty

  Beth was immersed in water again, but this time it was steaming and welcome. She lay in the tavern’s one and only tin bath in front of a heaped-up fire, relishing the warmth after her ordeal. She sighed in delight as Maisie poured another pail of hot water in. The lamplight flickered around them.

  “Thanks, Maisie. This bath is bliss. I’m sorry to wake you up so late – or early!”

  Maisie shook her head. “Gave me the fright of my life, you did. You looked half-drowned!”

  Beth didn’t need reminding. When Maisie had seen her standing in the doorway in the pre-dawn gloom, looking bedraggled as a sea-hag, she’d almost screamed the place down. Only Beth’s swift reassurance had calmed her, along with a lie about how she’d slipped and fallen from the docks.

  “What were you thinking, miss?” Maisie scolded, a frown creasing her brow in curiosity. “I wouldn’t have gone down to those docks at this hour, not for all the tea in China.”

  “I know, I know. It’s my fault I fell in. I wasn’t paying attention.” Beth was thankful Maisie didn’t question her any further. The bathwater was almost as murky as the Thames now, but at least she felt human again. She rinsed off her hair while Maisie chatted away happily, none the worse now for having been woken up by her dripping friend in the middle of the night.

  “You mustn’t let me keep you up,” Beth said. “You need to get some rest!”

  “Oh, truth be told, I wasn’t sleeping much anyway,” beamed Maisie. “I’m too excited about my part.”

  “Your part?” Beth realized all at once that she’d not heard any theatre news for a while. She hadn’t even asked Maisie about the results of the audition.


  “I’m going to be Maid Marian in Robin of the Greenwood!” Maisie said, grinning. “Can you imagine?”

  “That’s wonderful!” Beth exclaimed. “I knew you’d done well, but getting the female lead? I’m jealous!”

  “Oh, please don’t be jealous,” Maisie said, her smile vanishing. “I’d never be as good as you, please don’t think I—” The smile came back as she saw Beth was clearly joking. “Oh, Mistress Beth, you do tease.”

  Beth went to dry herself off and get dressed while Maisie walked back and forth, chattering. “They’ve cast Mister Lovett as the Sheriff, and of course he’s happy with that – well, as happy as he ever is, I mean. And Samuel Jones was meant to be Robin, but he and Mister Lovett kept fighting so now Timothy Sewell’s got the part instead, honestly, miss, you should have heard the language, it would have made you blush...” Beth let her carry on. It was amazing how theatre gossip built up, even over a scant few days.

  “I’m so happy for you,” Beth smiled, relieved to be in fresh clean clothes now.

  “You really mean it?”

  Beth took her hands. “Of course I do, silly! You sing beautifully, and the audience is going to love you, just wait and see. I bet you’ll be the talk of London after opening night!”

  “The talk of London,” Maisie echoed. “Sometimes I do wonder, though, if this is really, truly right for me...” She pulled away from Beth and sat down, then turned to look out through the tiny window. London lights were twinkling in the dark.

  “Maisie?” Beth sat beside her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I am happy, and the part is exciting, don’t get me wrong. But ... it’s different for you, Mistress Beth,” she said quietly. “London’s your home.”

  “It’s yours too.”

  “So why has it never felt like home?”

  Beth was lost for words. Maisie was so quiet and serious all of a sudden. How long had these feelings been stewing inside her? she wondered. With a start, she realized how much she’d taken her young friend for granted.

  “You’re just getting a touch of nerves,” Beth smiled, trying to sound reassuring. “Everyone gets those. It’s your first big part. It’s natural!”

  Maisie heaved a sigh. “I know you’re trying to be kind, but if I’m honest, I’m really not sure I want to stay here.”

  “But ... you were so excited a moment ago!”

  “And I am!” Maisie insisted. “I’m truly grateful, believe me! But it’s made me think too. About what I really want to do. Where I really want to be.”

  Beth was shocked. Was she really hearing this? Maybe she still had water in her ears.

  “I like London well enough, but it’s just so crowded,” Maisie went on. “You can’t hear yourself think half the time. And the people can be so rude, looking down on you like you’re nothing.”

  “Oh.” Beth’s heart sank. “So where would you like to be, if not here?”

  Maisie gave a half-smile. “I keep thinking about America,” she said. “I wish I had the words to tell you about it, Mistress Beth. I dream about it often.” She closed her eyes. “Running through the cornfields when I was a little girl, out in the open air! Rope swing down by the creek, the jackrabbits scuttling away ... Then I wake up, and it’s all buildings and streets and people again.”

  “But don’t you want to keep looking for your father?” was all Beth could say.

  “That’s just it,” Maisie said in a tiny voice. “He’s not here. All this time ... it turns out he was never in London. He wasn’t even in England.”

  Beth stared. “What? But I thought you’d been looking for him here all this time and—”

  Maisie shook her head sadly. “Just the other day, I met a woman who’d just come back from transportation, after serving out her seven years in America,” she explained. “She kept staring at me as if she’d seen a ghost. When I asked why, she said I was the very image of a man she’d seen in Virginia. ‘Especially the eyes,’ she told me. ‘He had such blue eyes, just like you. They seemed to strike right to my soul.’”

  “But that doesn’t mean it was him, surely?”

  A tear fell from Maisie’s eye. “She said he was an Englishman, Mistress Beth. He’d gone to America to look ... to look for...”

  Beth’s mouth fell open. She finished Maisie’s sentence in a whisper. “To look for his little girl?”

  Maisie nodded, her eyes brimming over with tears now. “All this time,” she repeated, “I’ve been over here looking for him, while he’s been over in America, looking for me! Maybe our ships even passed each other in the ocean!”

  Beth gave her friend a tight hug. “You should have told me!”

  “I only just found out,” Maisie sniffled.

  “Well then, if you must go, I understand completely,” Beth said. “But I’d miss you, Maisie. I’d miss you terribly.”

  Maisie looked up at her suddenly, her eyes shining bright. “But I wouldn’t want to leave you behind, Mistress Beth! I was thinking perhaps we could go away together...”

  Beth barely had time to register that new bombshell when there was a tac at the window. Someone had thrown a tiny stone at it, and Beth looked down into the street and saw Ralph looking up at her, readying another piece of grit. He waved frantically and pointed at a carriage, out of which John’s head was poking.

  “Oh ... er ... I have to go,” she stammered. “It’s some friends of mine from, er, a theatre out of town, come to visit. Their journey must have been quicker than they expected. I clean forgot all about it. I said I’d show them around London...”

  She began to pull her boots on and Maisie silently helped her lace them up. If she had any doubts about Beth’s story, she didn’t voice them – she still seemed caught up in her thoughts about leaving. Tac. Another stone on the window.

  “I’m coming as fast as I can,” Beth muttered through clenched teeth.

  “You’ll think about what I said?” Maisie looked serious.

  “I promise I will,” Beth said, wishing she didn’t have to. The idea of leaving London was just too big to think about right now...

  * * *

  Moments later, Beth flung herself into the back of the carriage. The leather seats were icy cold. John and Ralph’s faces were almost hidden by shadow.

  “Where are we going? Did you find something out?” she said. “Are we going to see Strange?”

  “There’s no time,” John said excitedly. “‘The game is afoot!’”

  “This ain’t no game,” Ralph snapped.

  “It’s Shakespeare,” Beth said, rolling her eyes. “John means it’s time to chase the prey to ground.”

  “Should have ruddy said so, then,” Ralph muttered, folding his arms.

  “We worked out the truth about Dorcas,” John explained to Beth, ignoring him. “She’s a ship, one that Vale’s booked onto. I checked the records in the Naval office and found out where she’s berthed, and we were close by so we thought we’d come and get you before high tide hits.”

  “We’re going to try and catch Vale? Without telling Strange first?”

  John nodded. “It’s our one chance. We have to bring him down.”

  Beth understood – she only hoped Strange would understand too. Doing this was a gamble, but she agreed it was a chance they had to take.

  The driver drove the horses so hard that pedestrians were shouting and shaking their fists as the carriage raced through London. They nearly toppled over when they charged around corners. Once, years ago, Beth had seen the mangled aftermath of a coach overturning, and she tried to shut the image of the wreckage out of her mind. John didn’t seem to care about the danger, though. He kept his head stuck out of the carriage window, and soon he was yelling, “We’re at the docks! We can still make it!”

  The three of them piled out of the carriage and out onto the open dockside. Dawn was just beginning to steal up over the sky, and masts swayed and rigging creaked. In the breaking light, they could see at least five ships that might be the
one they were looking for.

  “Excuse me,” Beth said breathlessly to a red-eyed dockworker struggling with a crate. “Which of these is the Dorcas?”

  “None of them,” the man grunted. “If you wanted to board her, you’re too late. She’s just set sail.” He pointed down the length of the Thames to where a large ship was sailing away, almost out of sight in the morning mists. Beth’s heart sank, and she heard Ralph curse under his breath.

  She thought quickly. “Do you know where she’s bound for?”

  The dockworker laughed. “You’ll have a long swim if you want to catch her, young lady. The Dorcas is bound for America.”

  The three of them stood on the quay and watched the ship vanish from sight, fading into the distance like an impossible dream. Their prey was gone. Nobody spoke. What would have been the point? There was nothing more to say.

  Vale was gone.

  Chapter Ten - Desperate Measures

  It was the morning of the next day and John was nearly home. In one hand, thrust deep into his pocket, he clutched the single coin that was all that remained of his wages. The landlord had scowled at him when he’d knocked, but his expression had quickly changed when John had handed over the money he’d earned from watching Vale’s tower. It had taken care of the arrears, and now at least the heavies would be called off. Whatever else might happen, his family wouldn’t be out on the street.

  Vale might have been on his way to America and Strange furious that they’d let their quarry slip away, but John still smiled to himself as he thought that he’d spared his mother the nightmare of an eviction, for now. He had seen evictions before. They were horrible – the furniture piled up in the street, the children sobbing, the grim-faced men carting treasured possessions off to be sold, the neighbours peering out of their windows to sneak a look. No wonder some people stole and cheated just to scrape money together for the rent.

  He pushed the front door open and strode into the single room that served as both kitchen and dining room. “Morning, everyone! I’ve been to Mister Clatherton and paid the rent...”