The Devil's Workshop

by Donnally Miller

  “It comes to me, you’re a right one with the ladies.” Vincenzo reached into his waistcoat pocket and produced a watch. The outside bore a design of knots and tangles, and when he opened it on the inside of the lid was engraved “From your own darling Katie.” Vincenzo read it aloud. “I’ve not yet had time to scratch her out, already you’ve another. You’re a tom cat, that’s what you are, and you set all the bitches in heat.”

  Tom had nothing to say, albeit tears stood on his cheek.

  “Of course she’s upstairs. Well then I’ll go and grab her.” Vincenzo put the watch away and crept up the stairs while Mr. Chips held the gun on Tom.

  “If you shout or say one word there’s a bullet through your brain.”

  “I’ll not cause trouble,” said Tom. He was completely disheartened and knew not what to do.

  There was a bit of silence while the two of them attempted to decipher the noises coming from upstairs. Then they heard Agata screaming and Vincenzo shouting, and the two of them came down the stairs, he holding a knife at her neck.

  “I tried to get out the window, Tom, I’m sorry I couldn’t.”

  “More candles! I want light,” shouted Vincenzo.

  “There’s some in the sideboard,” said Agata.

  The candles were obtained and lit and candlesticks were found. Then the four of them sat down and looked at one another.

  “The presence of simple Tom makes things a wee bit complicated,” said Vincenzo. “I’d thought it’d be just the woman and we could do her and be done.”

  “We still could do that,” said Mr. Chips.

  “Still we could. But what shall be done with Tom . . .?” The thought hung in the air. “I’d like to know why he’s here, wouldn’t you?”

  “What are you doing here?” Mr. Chips addressed him over the muzzle of his gun.

  “Do you know these men, Tom?” Agata asked.

  “That I do,” he answered. “In a former time these were my shipmates on the Queen of Bel Harbor.”

  “And it was a very queer trick you pulled,” said Vincenzo, “ getting off that ship. Like I said, we thought you’d drowned. Poor Brutus was the one had to take the lashes for it. How did you do it?”

  “I fell off the ship. Then I was swallowed by a fish.” Tom told them the whole tale, how he’d gone into the fish’s belly where he met Colophus, and the time they’d spent together. It was a strange tale, one that suited the surroundings, which were strange as well, with the wind blowing through the house and the candles flickering. It put the queerest feeling into all of them. And as Tom was nearing the end, Vincenzo said, “I don’t believe a word of that.”

  “Believe what you like. It’s the truth.”

  “No. You had a partner. You must have. In a boat. He lay beside us that night and that’s how you got off. And I think I know who your confederate was.”

  “I had no partner. But you were telling me what came of Brutus.”

  “They killed him,” said Mr. Chips.

  “Who?”

  “The next day. The Master and his flogger. They had a trial, did it right and honorable. Then they lashed him eighty lashes of the cat.”

  “Eighty?” His voice broke.

  “Eighty . . . He died.”

  “We watched the life go out of his eyes.” Vincenzo was only inches from Tom’s face. “With his last words he put a curse on you, who left him to take the punishment you didn’t get. He cursed you, and your children, and your children’s children too. They’re all cursed.”

  Tom hadn’t thought of Brutus for many days but now he did. He felt guilt come on him like a heavy cloak, one that bore him down and he’d never be able to take off. “Oh no,” he said. “Poor Brutus, what did I do . . . ?” He trailed off. All the events of that night came crowding back into Tom’s mind. “Oh, Brutus! Poor Brutus! Eighty lashes!” was all he could say. Then he sat in silent grief a few moments, till he resumed his tale. “One day Colophus started a fire, which so angered the animal he spat me out. When I looked about I saw a shore in the distance, so I went for it with all my strength, and it was a long and a hard swim till I came to land at last. That was just last night. I spent all the night on the beach. Then this morning I got up and came here, where now you’ve captured me. But what of you? I take it you’ve jumped ship and have come down in the world, being no longer honest seamen, now you’re naught but robbers and house breakers.”

  Vincenzo hit him on the mouth. “I’ll take no lip from you. I’m a better man than you are. You’re happy enough to leave your cabin-mate to take your punishment and now you go all tears and crying. And you think I’m so stupid you can just tell me a fairy-tale of being in a fish’s abdomen? Well I’m not. Not by a long shot. You went to Crazy Dog that night, didn’t you? I see it now. How he knew where we were bound. You sold the lot of us to him. Am I right? Or maybe it was Barnacle Jack.”

  “I’ll not say who it was.” Tom’s only plan was to keep them talking long enough for Josh to come back with some help.

  “You will. You’ll tell me everything before this night’s out. Where are they?”

  “I’ll not tell you.”

  “Shoot him in the foot, Mr. Chips.”

  “He doesn’t know anything,” said Chips. “How could he? He’s been inside a fish.”

  “I said shoot him in the foot!”

  “Alright!” Mr. Chips shot Tom in the foot. Tom fell to the ground, writhing in agony.

  “I should hurt you like they hurt Brutus.” Rage surged through Vincenzo’s whole body. “Let you know what he felt.” He had to take a moment to get under control. Then he turned to Mr. Chips, “You still believe he was in a fish?”

  “He sure smells like it. Ah, if he’s a liar I’ll just shoot him dead and be done.”

  Agata was mumbling prayers under her breath.

  “Our good friend Tom thought he could play us false, didn’t you?” He hit Tom again. Tom cursed. “I wish I had some rope, I’d tie you.”

  “We have rope,” said Agata.

  “Shut up! I mean, where’s the rope?”

  “Why waste time tying him up? Out of my way. Surely I’ll just shoot him in the head.”

  “Don’t shoot him, I’ll get you rope,” said Agata. “Sure you can’t run a farm without rope. I’m the only one knows where it is.” She left to get the rope.

  “You just let her go?” said Vincenzo to Mr. Chips. But then she was back, carrying a rope coiled round her upper arm. Vincenzo went on, “I suspect – no, I’m knowing for certain – this scoundrel’s in with Crazy Dog.” Tom was trying to follow his chain of thought, trying to figure out the names he’d used, Crazy Dog and Barnacle Jack. He was praying he could stick a wicket in his gears, get him more confused. “Or maybe there’s a reward he plans to claim. He’s been following us. Else how did he come here?”

  “Oh . . . I hadn’t thought of that,” said Mr. Chips.

  “No, you hadn’t, had you? He was just swimming around inside a fish. Oh, Chippy, you’ve a brain the size of a walnut.” Then, turning to Tom, “So, where is he?”

  Tom put on a long face like he was thinking things over. “Well, I –“

  On that instant Vincenzo jumped him and put a knife to his throat. “I’ll have none of your wells. You’ll not drag this out till your friends get here. Tell me where he is or I’ll slit your throat this minute!”

  “Alright, I’ll tell you. Get off me.” Vincenzo got off and Tom sat up. ”Christ, my foot hurts . . . But if I tell you, I’m a dead man for sure, you’ll not have any use for me.”

  “Oh, and I suppose you thought you’d survive this night?” He laughed, and it was a real laugh, all the way from the belly. A great wind came through the house then and set the candles flickering.

  “Let me just shoot him in the head,” said Mr. Chips.

  “No, that’s not the way of it.” He turned to Tom. “I’ll ask one more time: where is he?”

  Tom was silent.

  “What color you guess his
brains are?” Mr. Chips gave a chortle.

  “I will now be counting to five,” said Vincenzo. “If I say five before he’s told us where Crazy Dog is you’ll shoot the woman. Do you understand? The next time I say five this woman is dead. One . . .”

  “I knew I’d be shooting someone.”

  “Oh, Tom,” said Agata.

  Two . . .”

  “Tom, if you know, tell him.”

  “Three . . .”

  “That’s not like you, Vincenzo. Don’t you want to rape her before you shoot her?”

  “That ain’t funny,” said Agata.

  “Four . . .”

  “He’s waiting in a boat just off the beach,” said Tom. “He’s been there now a good hour.”

  “Oh, I knew it,” said Vincenzo.

  “I was to signal him. Three flashes of the dark lantern meant they was waiting on him, it was no go. One flash, he was to come in.”

  There was a puzzled pause.

  “What?” asked Chips.

  “Waiting on him . . . ? Who’d be waiting on him . . .?” asked Vincenzo.

  “He won’t come in if the . . . Your Crazy Dog’s a smuggler, is he not?” said Tom.

  There was another pause as a dawning awareness grew on Vincenzo. “Tom . . .” he started to say something, then he laughed. “I think you’re spinning a tale . . . Yes I do. Shall we go down to the beach and meet Crazy Dog? What do you say?”

  “Yes, I think we should.”

  Vincenzo laughed again. “No, I don’t think so. You’ll not play me for a fool. There’s no one there, is there?” Vincenzo gave him a broad smile. There was not a word Tom could say. “Shoot him, Mr. Chips.”

  Agata gasped. And though there was no wind, at just that moment all the candles went out, and in the sudden darkness the closet door flew open and Josh hurled himself onto the back of Mr. Chips. So surprised was he he did not have time to pull the trigger. As he went down, with Josh on top, he dropped the pistol so he could use his good hand to block his fall. However, he was only partially successful, and his broken arm hit the floor hard. He cried out in pain and rolled over onto his back. As he did so, Tom leapt at Vincenzo. Vincenzo tried to jab him but missed in the dark and Tom got in close under his guard, grabbed him around the chest and wrestled him to the floor. Agata found the pistol Mr. Chips had dropped and picked it up. Mr. Chips was just getting to his feet again and Josh was backing off into the hallway. She held the gun on Mr. Chips and told him to stay down. There was an awful moment when Chips was crouched, staring at Agata, a rictus of pain on his face, and she was standing her ground, both hands holding the pistol. The moment could hardly have lasted a second, but it seemed drawn out as each measured their will against the other’s intention. Then Chips pounced, and Agata fired. Mr. Chips fell writhing to the ground, a gaping, bloody hole in his neck.

  While this was happening, Vincenzo and Tom were locked in struggle. Vincenzo couldn’t get a grip on Tom, as he was holding a knife in each hand, but he did manage to gash the fleshy part of his thigh. Tom, however, got hold of Vincenzo’s right arm and gave it a good twist. Vincenzo dropped the knife in that hand and backed away from Tom who let go of his arm and picked up the knife. As soon as he had it, ignoring the pain in his foot, he lunged at Vincenzo’s face. Vincenzo knocked the blade down but couldn’t deflect it entirely and it penetrated his stomach on the right, just below the ribs. Seeing he was wounded and Mr. Chips was down, Vincenzo made a break for the back door. Tom tried to follow, but was toppled by the pain from his wounds, which were bleeding profusely. Vincenzo was out the door and they quickly lost sight of him in the pitch black night and the shadows of the trees.

  Agata turned her attention to Josh, to see he was alright, but when she looked she couldn’t find him. “Josh?” she called. She looked through all the rooms on the ground floor. While she was doing this, Tom had a look at Mr. Chips. There was nothing to be done for him as he was clearly dead so Tom turned his attention to his own wounds. There was a gash in his left thigh and a bullet hole in his right foot. There was a good deal of blood also but it appeared no major arteries were cut. He looked up to see Agata had returned and was staring at him.

  “It’s a good job Josh got me two pairs of pants,” he said. “I’m afraid I’ve ruined this pair altogether.”

  “I don’t know where Josh is.”

  It didn’t seem important, yet it put a weight on his mind.

  “And how did he get in the closet?” She rattled the door. “It’s locked. I locked it this afternoon when I put the besom away. Here’s the key. This door’s got but one key and it’s stayed in my pocket.”

  “Josh must’ve found another . . . Perhaps he’s upstairs.” Then he thought some more and said, “It would be no surprise and certainly no disgrace if he was scared and found someplace to hide.”

  “Why’s he hiding now . . .? Let’s see to you,” Agata barely whispered.

  “It looks bad, but I think not fatal.”

  “Take your pants off. Josh . . . ? Where is that boy.”

  Tom was grunting with the pain as he removed his pants, but outside of that the house was still. The moon was up now and just past full so, even though the candles had gone out, there was light to see by. Nothing stirred. Even the wind was sunk now to less than a murmur.

  “I’ll bandage your leg and your foot, but then I must find Josh. I don’t know what I’m in fear of. My heart misgives me.”

  “There’s no harm could have come to him.”

  Suddenly she was desperate. Dropping the bandages she sat and shivered for a moment. Tom looked at her, not knowing and not understanding. Then she picked up the bandages again and wrapped Tom’s wound. “How did he get in the closet . . .? Hold this.”

  “How did he get away when Vincenzo caught you upstairs?”

  “And where’s he gone now? You’re not holding it.”

  “Sorry. I think after he tackled Mr. Chips he went upstairs.”

  “I hope he hasn’t gone to chase that one who got away.”

  “He didn’t. I started to chase him. I didn’t see Josh. Josh didn’t leave the house . . . How did he get away when Vincenzo brought you down here?”

  “You keep asking that.” Her hands stopped moving for a minute. Then she cut off the bandage she’d tied around his leg. “Is this tight enough?”

  “No. Yes. I left the two of you together when I came downstairs.”

  “You didn’t . . . Josh wasn’t upstairs.”

  “Of course he was.”

  “No.”

  “I saw him. I told you to stay with him.”

  “Was that what you meant? He wasn’t with me . . .” The two of them looked at one another. Then she said, “Give me your foot. He must have gone to his bedroom. Why didn’t I think of that before? I’ll look for him there. Hold this.” She tied the bandage round his foot. When she’d done with that, she started upstairs, but something stopped her and she turned around. “But why he’d be upstairs and not with us is something I can’t understand . . . Don’t you come up; I don’t want your blood everywhere. It’ll be the devil to clean up.”

  Tom’s wounds were bandaged and the worst of the bleeding was over. He heard Agata for quite a while, moving through the rooms of the house. He wouldn’t have thought it would take her as long as it did, but the truth is he wasn’t thinking about her. His wounds were throbbing mercilessly and he couldn’t think about anything except the pain. When she came back down she was alone. “He’s nowhere in the house.” There was a little breeze and a sound of footsteps in the hall, and then the door from the kitchen to the back garden was shoved open with a clatter. Agata went to look. Tom found a stick and using it as a cane he followed her. No one was there, but they thought they still heard footsteps in the grass and they followed them to a little ditch behind the hen house. That’s where they found him lying on his back. For a dreadful moment the flies made it look like he was still moving. He had a monstrous gash on his throat, from ear to ear. Whoever did
it – and Tom, remembering the knife in Vincenzo’s hand had little doubt who – had then carried him here and laid him out of the way. He pictured it: stealing up behind him while he was busy with the wagon and then a hand over the mouth, pulling his head back and a quick slash, left to right — Josh must’ve been dead before he’d realized what had happened — then picking up the body and hiding it out of sight before coming into the house. And all the time he and Agata upstairs playing Nasty Notions.

  Then the spirit had played its part. It followed them into the house, directed Tom to the knife and hid in the closet. And after it did what it had to do, it had gone. Where . . .?

  They buried him that morning in one of the fields south of the house. Agata was a useless bundle of tears, forever lapsing into a shivering despair, and Tom was hobbled by the wounds he bore, so they had a couple young men from a neighbor’s to help with building the coffin and digging the hole and placing the body. They stood round the grave to say a few words, but no one could bring himself to say very much. Agata tried, but she couldn’t get a sentence out before it became a long crying sob. Tom looked at the pine box as they threw dirt back on it. I’m a curse. His thoughts were dark. Wherever I go I bring calamity and death. Brutus I left and he died in my place. Colophus must be drowned. And sure it was I drew Vincenzo here to kill Josh. Everything I touch I destroy. Everyone I befriend I kill. I’m a curse. And my children are cursed. And their children too.

  They also buried Mr. Chips, though not with any ceremony, and they didn’t build him a coffin. The carpenter he was, for certain he would have taken offense at that. They just laid him in the ground and covered him up. The neighbor lads, respectful as they were, were yet in a stammering hurry to be done and gone. After they left, the silence and the empty sadness came down on Agata and Tom. Agata saw no reason why her useless heart still beat and she leaned hard on Tom. She’d fancied him a bit when first they met, but now she needed him. Without his companionship she’d have sat wailing and staring at the wind, venting her grief in inarticulate sobs. She looked out too for Josh’s ghost, sometimes sensing his presence certain moments when things went still. They never heard the footsteps again.