by Roger Hurn
‘What’s ’e want a wall for?’ Bloodwine recognised it was now the blacksmith Nathaniel Jones speaking.
‘To divide the island in two, you jackanapes. He wants to cultivate the good land here on this side of the island and let the wild goats and deer roam free on the other side. That way the castle’s got a ready supply of fresh food and he and his fine friends can have a bit of sport hunting when they get bored of prigging the whores.’ The tone of the speaker’s voice showed that he was proud of his master. ‘He’s a fly cove and no mistake.’
‘No, ’e’s a bastard of the first water. ’E’s got no right to make free men slaves.’ The anger in Payne’s voice was raw.
‘You ain’t free men. You’re convicts.’
‘That’s as mebbe, but ’e should be taking us to America not ’ere.’
One of the gaolers laughed. ‘Is that so? Well, Mr Inglethorpe says that bringing you convicts to Lundy is the same as sending you to America. He’s had you transported from England like he was contracted to do, so it don’t matter where you end up so long as you’re out of the kingdom. You see, nobody cares what happens to Newgate birds like you.’
‘Well, I fear you’re wrong there,’ said Bloodwine stepping into the light and pointing his musket at the two men who were in charge of the prisoners. ‘You see, I care very much about the plight of these poor fellows, so I’ll thank you to release them into my charge immediately.’
The tunnel had widened out into a small cavern which contained several dismal cramped stone cells no more than eight feet long and six feet wide. The prisoners were held in three of them. The doors to their dungeons were planks of wood crudely nailed together with cracks and gaps large enough to peer through. In the space outside the cells there was a wooden table with a jug of ale, a large iron key and a lantern on it. The two gaolers were sitting there with mugs clutched in their hands and their weapons on the floor. Bloodwine’s entrance caught them completely by surprise and they stared at him, slack-jawed and dumbfounded.
Payne laughed nastily. ‘There, I told yer Mr Bloodwine wouldn’t be best pleased wiv you, didn’t I? An’ I was right.’
The thief-taker sighed. ‘Mr Payne has a point. Have you been struck deaf as well as dumb? I said to release the prisoners!’ He gestured with the musket and one of the men stood up sullenly, took the key and opened the cell doors. As soon as he did so the lighterman leapt out on him, sank his fist into the man’s belly and then threw him into the cell. ‘There, let’s see ’ow much you like it in there now the table’s bin turned,’ he snarled. Then he snatched up a mug of ale from the table and drained it. He belched and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. ‘Much obliged to yer, Mr Bloodwine. You’re a gent.’
Payne was a thickset fellow with bad teeth and sly eyes that glistened in the lamplight. The thief-taker stared at him unblinkingly. The lines at the corners of his mouth deepened. ‘Not everyone would agree with that assessment, but what the hell. Lock this other buzzard up and let’s be going.’
The convicts bundled the man into one of the empty cells and hurried after Bloodwine back up the tunnel. When they reached its end they found themselves back in the main cavern. The thief-taker started to lead the men towards the door when the lighterman called out to him. ‘What’s dahn this tunnel, Mr Bloodwine?’
Bloodwine glanced back over his shoulder. ‘I have no idea as I’ve been too busy rescuing you to go exploring. Now come on.’
Jabez Payne made no move to follow. ‘Now let’s not be too ’asty. It won’t do no ’arm to take a quick peek. Maybe there’s other poor souls like us banged up in some dingy ’ole dahn there.’
Before Bloodwine could stop him, the man plunged into the tunnel. The blacksmith and the prizefighter looked at Bloodwine waiting to take their cue from him. The thief-taker cursed inwardly. He needed to be gone from the island as soon as possible, but he doubted he would make it across the sea to the mainland without the help of the lighterman’s particular talents, so he made the best of a bad job. ‘It could be that he’s right,’ he said, although the last thing he needed was more convicts slowing down his escape. ‘We’d best see.’
The other two nodded and they all followed in Payne’s footsteps. They hadn’t gone more than a few yards when they came to a cavern that doubled as a storeroom. It was filled with barrels of contraband tobacco that Inglethorpe’s ships had brought back from Virginia. Payne was almost beside himself with excitement. ‘Take a look at this lot,’ he said gleefully. ‘We’ve ’it the jackpot ’ere all right.’
‘‘I don’t see how,’ said Jones lugubriously. ‘It’s no good to us.’
The lighterman shook his head in exasperation. ‘Nah, you’re not gettin’ it are yer? We ’elp ourselves to a few barrels and take ’em wiv us when we scarper off back to England. We sell ’em to some accommodatin’ gentlemen and make ourselves a nice few bob to help get us back on our feet again.’
‘Sounds like a fine plan to me.’ It was William Parker, the bare-knuckle fighter, who spoke. His voice was surprisingly high-pitched and effeminate for such a big man and Bloodwine wondered if that was why he had chosen fighting as his trade. He must have had to endure much mockery in his time and knocking his tormentors’ teeth back down their throats with his chunky fists would have honed his skills no end. Parker grabbed a barrel and swung it up onto his shoulder with an easy grace. ‘Right, I’m fixed.’
‘Good man,’ said Payne. ‘Now ’ow abhat you, Mr Jones? Them blacksmith’s shoulders of yourn could carry a coupla barrels ’n never feel it.’
The taciturn blacksmith grunted dismissively, but picked up a barrel. ‘This one will do me,’ he said.
‘What abhat you, Mr Bloodwine? Are you in on our little scheme?’
Bloodwine shook his head. ‘No, I’ve got bigger fish to fry, but I’ll not begrudge you your spoils.’ He knew he had to humour these men, but he was growing increasingly fretful and impatient. ‘So, now you’ve taken what you want, I’ll bid you to make haste. I want to be on the road to London by nightfall.’
‘Well, that suits me just fine,’ said Payne. ‘So lead on bruvver and devil take the ’indmost.’
Chapter Sixteen
As they stepped back out of the cavern into the harsh light, the first thing they saw and heard was Ben Cobley on all fours retching like a dog. He looked up at them with eyes that were bleak with pain. ‘Bastards,’ he muttered and tried to push himself up onto his feet. Jabez Payne needed no further provocation. He swung his boot at the man and kicked him hard in the side of his head. Cobley crashed back down and Payne followed up his assault with another vicious kick.
‘Leave him be,’ snapped Bloodwine. ‘You’ll kill him otherwise.’
‘So what?’ snarled Payne. ‘What they gonna do if they catch me – ’ang me twice? Once fer smugglin’ and once fer murder?’
He locked eyes with the thief-taker as if daring him to argue. Bloodwine felt his fury boil and rage inside his guts and he wanted nothing more than to be rid of the man, but they both knew that until they’d successfully navigated their way across the turbulent waters between them and the coast, Payne had the upper hand. A slow smile spread across the lighterman’s face and, as if to emphasise his temporary superiority, he gave the unconscious Cobley one last kick. It was as ferocious as the first and it sickened Bloodwine. The thief-taker made a silent promise to track Jabez Payne down when this was over and see him hang. It wouldn’t help Cobley, who Bloodwine suspected was as dead as mutton thanks to that fatal final blow, but it would be some kind of justice and that was the best he could do.
He turned away from Payne’s mocking grin and started to head down the track to the quay. He hadn’t taken more than two steps when his attention was caught by a ship riding the ocean swell. It had come from Appledore harbour and was inexorably making its way towards Lundy. Bloodwine’s heart sank because he had absolutely no doubt that James Inglethorpe was its master and he would be making landfall within the hour.
‘There’
s a change of plan,’ he growled. ‘Even if we managed to steal a boat we’d never make it across to the coast without being seen and run down by the bastard on board that vessel.’
‘So, what in God’s name do we do now?’ said Parker, querulous as a child.
Despite his bitter frustration, Bloodwine almost smiled at the incongruity between the man’s size and his fluting, girlish voice. But then he saw Payne’s malevolent little piggy eyes watching him intently and his expression hardened.
‘You men go back in the tunnel and take this poor fellow’s corpse with you.’
‘Why would we do that?’ It wasn’t an innocent question. Payne was challenging Bloodwine’s authority to tell them what to do.
‘Because we’re outnumbered and outgunned on this blasted island and we need to change those odds without delay.’
Payne shrugged. ‘Agreed. But ’ow does skulking abhat dahn a tunnel wiv a dead man help us do that?’
Jones and Parker stared at Bloodwine. Despite their size and propensity for violence, neither man was a leader.
‘Listen and you’ll learn,’ said Bloodwine coldly. ‘Do you remember what that guard said? Inglethorpe’s got the other convicts out building a wall and they’ll be supervised by armed men. But not even slaves can labour all day and night, so they’ll bring them back here when it gets too dark to work. And that’s when we get the extra men and weapons we need because you’ll ambush the guards, overpower them, take their muskets, lock them up and set the convicts free. But be careful because these roaring boys won’t just stroll into your trap. They’ll be wary when they return here and find no sign of the man they left behind on sentry duty, so be ready and act swiftly when the moment comes.’
‘Gotcha,’ said Payne. ‘Don’ you worry abhat nuffin, Mr Bloodwine, them roarin’ boys as you call ’em won’t know what’s ’it ’em when we go into action.’ The thief-taker nodded but Payne wasn’t finished. ‘But that ain’t the problem. What concerns me is what’ll you be doin’ whilst me, Natty ’n Bill are layin’ low?’
Bloodwine bared his teeth at the lighterman. The man’s insolent manner infuriated him almost beyond measure but he forced himself to reply evenly. ‘I’ll go up to the castle as if nothing was amiss. I’ll make sure Mrs Crabtree doesn’t suspect anything and then, when Inglethorpe arrives, I’ll keep him distracted until you send me word that your ambush has been successful, then I’ll slip away and join you back here.’
Payne’s thin lips twitched up into a smile that contained no humour, only malice. ‘Nah, I’ve got a better idea. We’ll do like you say and get the jump on Inglethorpe’s boys, but when we’ve bundled ’em into chokey we’ll take a stroll up to the castle ourselves. I’ve a mind to take advantage of the situation and ’elp ourselves to a pleasant little windfall.’ His grin grew wider. ‘What wiv the baccy and the pickin’s up at the castle we’re gonna come outta this venture flush in the pocket I tell yer.’ His eyes gleamed at the possibilities. ‘We could maybe even ’ave time to sample some fine vittles and give the wenches a saucing before we leg it. What say you, lads?’
Jones frowned as if his conscience was pricking him, though it was probably the thought of the sure and certain hanging he’d receive if he was caught that caused the ox-like blacksmith to hesitate. Parker had no such qualms and nodded enthusiastically at the prospect. Bloodwine’s eyes narrowed, but he kept his counsel. This was the last thing he wanted to happen. He was deeply worried that Payne’s brutish appetites would win out over his native cunning and render him far more interested in indulging himself in the carnal delights and riches that awaited him at the castle than in escaping from Lundy at the earliest opportunity. He suspected that many of the other convicts would feel the same way and that they’d take their lead from their liberator, Jabez Payne. The thief-taker cursed his dependency on a man he despised as a murdering and rapacious scoundrel, but he knew he had no choice but to play along for now and try to wrest back control of the situation later. The problem was that he couldn’t for the life of him see how he was going to manage that.
Chapter Seventeen
The castle perched at the top of a precipitous cliff like a grey and battle-scarred bird of prey surveying the ocean. Its rectangular granite keep had just a few small windows and plug-holes. ‘It’s as blind as a fool’s heart,’ muttered Bloodwine as he scanned its battered walls and domed chimneys. ‘It’ll serve well enough as a dwelling for the whores when they’re not required, but it’s no place to entertain the gentry, so where do you make your sport, Inglethorpe?’
He carried on up the track way and, as he did so, he became aware that the day was growing darker as storm clouds rolled in from the south west and covered the sun. As the brightness leached out of the air, the looming citadel appeared increasingly inhospitable and more like something from the witching tales he remembered from his childhood than the ideal location for a rich man’s bordello. He gave a shiver as if someone was walking on his grave, then damned himself for a credulous fool. ‘It ain’t the old ghosts haunting the place that need concern you, Balthazar,’ he told himself sharply. ‘It’s the flesh and blood bastards in the here and now who mean you harm.’
Shaking his head at his momentary foolishness, he strode through the castle gateway and was surprised to see revealed behind the enclosing walls a moderately-sized but elegant double-fronted manor house standing at the far end of a wide stone terrace. It had obviously been built to order and was exactly the kind of dwelling to which a fashionable country gentleman like James Inglethorpe would feel he could welcome his guests without embarrassment. Bloodwine smiled sardonically. ‘Yes, that’s more the style,’ he thought. ‘Now let’s see what kind of a welcome I receive from that bundle-tailed bitch, Crabtree.’
He hurried across the terrace to the house and hammered on the door. He didn’t have to wait for more than a second or two before it was opened by a flustered serving girl. Immediately his ears were assailed by noise of a furious shouting match going on somewhere in the house. He realised immediately that it was Becca sounding off like a fishwife at Mrs Crabtree. He closed his eyes in exasperation, took a breath, then swept by the babbling servant and ran down the hall and into the drawing-room where the row was taking place. He saw Becca being physically restrained by a manservant whilst a brawny female servant held a struggling Harry face down on a chaise longue. His breeches had been pulled down exposing his backside. Mrs Crabtree stood behind him with a large wooden paddle in her beefy paw ready to bring it smacking down on Harry’s naked rump. Bloodwine didn’t wait to ask what the hell was going on. He flung himself on Mrs Crabtree and wrenched the paddle from her grasp.
‘Let the boy go,’ he barked at the female servant who stared at him in shock as Harry wriggled free.
‘Mr Bloodwine, you exceed your authority,’ snapped a startled Mrs Crabtree. ‘The child stole from the kitchen and it is my duty to punish him.’
‘I didn’t steal nuffink, Balthazar,’ said Harry, his tone that of a perfectly aggrieved innocent. ‘I wuz jus’ gettin’ somefink to eat for the girls ‘cos they was ’ungry, when Mts Battleaxe come in the pantry ’n started screamin’ blue murder.’
Mrs Crabtree snorted with indignation. ‘The child’s a thief, Bloodwine, and I won’t tolerate thievery in this house. I caught him red-handed and I’ll punish him as I see fit. So give me back the paddle this instant.’
Mrs Crabtree’s plump cheeks may have been mottled with fury, but her voice was imperious and the thief-taker noticed that the hand she held out was steady. She was as formidable as Grendel’s mother when confronted by Beowulf in her lair and Bloodwine knew he had to undermine her self-possession and quickly. However, unlike the hero of legend, he didn’t have a giant’s sword, but he was still clutching the wooden paddle and so he snarled like a rabid dog and brandished it at her, his anger genuine. He was gratified and not a little relieved that, despite herself, she flinched and took half a step backwards. He pressed home his advantage. ‘And if you ever so
much as lay a finger on young Harry, I’ll break this paddle on your head. Is that clear? He’s under my protection, as are Becca and the girls, and they’ll answer to me, not you, madam, for any wrongdoing on their part.’
His tone was implacable and Crabtree’s spiteful eyes flicked away from his stare. She was a bully who’d temporarily met her match, but she wasn’t about to leave the field without throwing one last barb.
‘We’ll see what the master has to say about that,’ she hissed. ‘You may think you’re the coming man, Mr Bloodwine, but he is guided by me and has been since he was a little boy.’ As she looked at the thief-taker there was no disguising the gleeful maliciousness in her gaze. ‘Because you see blood is thicker than water. Oh, our mutual father may have got me on a serving girl, but I’ve always been much more of a mother to James than his own ever was, seeing as how the poor woman died giving birth to him.’
She affected a brief, mocking curtsy and then turned and stalked from the room with the other servants hard on her heels. Becca and her children all looked to Bloodwine for their lead but before he could speak, a bright flash of lightning stabbed the air. Then, above the house, thunder rolled ominously and the first fat raindrops splattered down on the roof. The storm Bloodwine had seen gathering was fast approaching and he had a sickening feeling that it threatened to sweep him and all those he held dear away with it.
He rubbed his face with his hands and tried to gather his thoughts. Becca, Harry and the girls were in danger and there wasn’t much he could do to help them because he had no idea of how he was going to help himself. All he knew was that he had to get them out of the house before all hell broke loose.
‘What kinda Bedlam ’ave you brought us to, Balthazar?’ Becca sounded distraught and angry. ‘I fort we was gonna be on easy street but somefink ain’t right ’ere if that bitch Crabtree is anyfing to go by. She’s got it in for my ’Arry.’
