The Black Moon

by Winston Graham

  Below, to the south of them, a chimney smoked among a clump of beeches; in the distance they could see the town, with a gleam of river; over to the west was another farm.

  ‘There’s water there,’ said Tholly, pointing. ‘We can tell by the willows.’

  ‘You cannot get at it without crossing open country.’

  ‘Nay, but it comes from higher up. If I can trace it I may be able to reach it without going down. Then there’s cows. You shouldn’t never have to go short when there’s cows.’

  ‘Take Jonas, then. See what you can find. But no risks. It’s better to fast for a day than have them all about our ears.’

  They went off at six and were not back until eight. They brought back water in Jonas’s hat and milk in Tholly’s. It was a ration all round and some extra milk for Dwight.

  ‘Ye get sent t’gaol for this back ’ome,’ said Ellery. ‘My cousin back in ’88, ’e got two months in prison for milkin’ a neighbour’s cow. Justices said it ’appened too often.’

  Through the long morning some of them dozed while the others kept watch. Drake had lost his boots in the escape and had rags round his blistered feet. About noon Jonas went off again, with Ellery this time, and an hour later they came back with two eggs from a moorhen’s nest. One of these Dwight took and the other was offered to Drake. But Drake said he was not hungry, so it was kept for Dwight until later in the day.

  So daylight dragged endlessly on. They saw a woman come in for the cows, a man stacking a hayrick. A dog barked and ran around, but fortunately they were too far away for it to pick up their scent. They could see the mud in the river and later a sail or two moving as the tide rose. It was a still day, and smoke from the town created a haze over it. A high thin cloud obscured the sun. Ross watched the sky anxiously. A storm would be a disaster, but so would a dead calm.

  When they came he had thought if things went well they might not return to their boat in the river but might trek across country to the sea and steal some other fishing boat more suitably situated. If they went back to the Sarzeau they were gambling on its not having been taken away, and also on their not walking into a trap with soldiers waiting for them. However there was now no choice. Dwight could never walk eleven miles. Nor Drake.

  Later he went to sit beside Drake, who was leaning against a bush nursing his wound and his burns. He thought there was a new colour in Drake’s cheeks and he did not like it.

  ‘How is it with you?’

  ‘Nicely, sur, thank ee.’

  ‘Think you you can walk when the time comes?’

  ‘Oh, yes. These cloths are so good as shoes, s’long as I don’t step on sharp stones.’

  ‘And your shoulder?’

  ‘He’ll be stiff for a while.’

  They were silent. Ross thought, if that cursed dog should come up here . . .

  He said: ‘Last night, what made you hesitate so long on the wall?’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘You know you did. Turning this way and that.’

  ‘I wa’nt sure where to jump.’

  ‘I think you lie.’

  Drake shifted but did not speak.

  ‘Were you trying to get shot?’ Ross asked.

  ‘Nay! Ne’er such a fool as that.’

  ‘Then you were trying to draw the next shot – was that it? So that I could get over safely while the musketeer recharged his gun.’

  Drake said: ‘I’m thirsty. Be there a drain left in that hat?’

  Ross brought it to him. ‘Listen, boy, when I want heroics performed on my behalf I will ask for them.’

  Drake put up his bandaged hand to wipe his lips.

  ‘I was hesitating where to jump,’ he said.

  Chapter Ten

  They started as soon as the last streaks of daylight left the sky. It was a long and tedious descent, for they had to avoid all buildings, whether out-houses or cottages. Anywhere a labourer might be coming home from his fields, and, although there had been no obvious signs of pursuit today, everyone within twenty miles would have heard by now of the raid. Much would depend on whether there was a company of soldiers left within riding distance; if so, they could be here before morning. To say nothing of agents from Brest or Concarneau.

  Ross and Tregirls led the way. Both had had professional knowledge of warfare and before leaving the Sarzeau had taken careful sights of where they had tied up. An exact point on the banks of a strange river was not the easiest thing to locate in the faintly moon-shot dark.

  They had been going for two hours in pairs, with Bone helping Dwight behind the first two, Ellery helping Drake, and Jonas and Hoblyn bringing up the rear; and they were not more than a few hundred yards from the river though somewhat downstream. Ross had just changed direction back towards the town when Tholly held up his hook. Everyone fell silent. The most noise then came from Tholly’s breathing, which sounded like a kettle simmering.

  Ross took a step back until he was beside Tholly, who raised his good hand and pointed. About them in the evening were all the natural sounds: a bird chattering, a trickle of water, the rustle of leaves, a seagull crying in the distance. But there was no wind to create a rustle of leaves. They waited.

  A footstep. Very cautious and coming towards them. The undergrowth was thick here, and it was a matter of luck, or Tholly’s sharp hearing, that they had heard the men approaching instead of vice versa. To move at all you had to push aside bracken and bramble and low branches of the trees. They were on a path, but one much overgrown, one that had hardly been used this year. Very cautiously, one by one, they shrunk back into the undergrowth on either side. But the footsteps had halted too. Tholly took out his knife. Muttered voices. They were going past on a fork in the path so close that they could almost be touched. Someone did touch Ross’s shoulder. He looked round angrily. It was Dwight.

  ‘They’re English. Two men. I think from the prison.’

  The footsteps had stopped again. Dwight’s whisper must have been heard.

  Ross raised a hand to stop Dwight’s movement, but as one of the men broke cover, running away, Dwight said out loud: ‘Enys here. Are you from the camp?’

  One of the two men had not yet begun to run. His figure moved in the undergrowth towards them. Tholly raised his knife.

  ‘Enys?’ said a voice. ‘Spade here. Lieutenant Spade. Where are you? Speak up.’

  ‘Here! Stop, Tregirls; these are our friends.’

  The one who had begun to run halted. They pushed through the undergrowth and stared at each other in the dark. Two ragged men who might have been street beggars. ‘Armitage,’ said the other. ‘I think we have met before.’

  Ross nodded. ‘Are you alone? Are others with you?’

  ‘Alone. Maybe a dozen of us got away but we split into twos for safety.’

  They had spoken in lowered tones, but Ross held up his hand and the whole group were silent, listening. But now there were no more untoward rustlings.

  Ross said: ‘What happened in the camp?’

  ‘Did you imprison the guards? The guards at the gate found their friends missing and hurried to release those you had tied up. Then they came into the prison with lanterns, looking for you. That pestilential young Enwright started the panic by rushing into the church screaming “Escape, Escape!” But maybe he helped, for it began a rush to the doors which even the guards could not stop. I know not how many men were trampled underfoot, but a couple of dozen of us got as far as the walls and about half over.’ Armitage ended: ‘I fear I deserted my post in the ward, Enys. But the thought of freedom was too much for me.’

  Enys said: ‘It was too much for them all.’

  After a pause Spade said, ‘We have not eaten or drunk all day. Have you anything about you?’

  ‘Nothing. But there may be a boat – the one we came in. There’s food and drink there if it has not been taken.’

  The group began to move again, two men added to the number. Ross knew that two more would not increase their chances. Yet to save three
good men instead of one perhaps made the enterprise that much more justifiable.

  They came near to where the river widened to a lake. The water glimmered and reflected the setting sliver of moon. Ross was relieved to feel a breath of wind on his face.

  ‘It’s gone!’ said Ellery. ‘We left’n just by that there tree!’

  ‘Nay, wait,’ said Tholly. ‘The tree was not bent so. Ah. That is the one beyond.’

  Stumbling now along the grass-grown bank, they peered into the dark. There was nothing there, no masts, no . . . But Tholly broke into a run and raised his hook on high. The lugger was still there, masts sloping, all firmly aground in the mud.

  Ross hung back a few moments, restraining Dwight and Drake and Bone, fearing the ambush. But no shot came to disturb the tranquillity of the sleeping woodland, so presently, fatalistically he went forward. If there were soldiers here all was lost. If not, and if none came, they had only to wait a few hours until the water returned.

  Below decks in the Sarzeau was a fair-sized hold. Aft of the foremast was a compartment to hold spare sails; behind that was the big fish room. Aft of that was a hold for carrying nets and behind that the cabin, with the root of the rear mast piercing it through the middle. The cabin was about ten feet long by eight broad, and into this were carried the two sick men.

  Water at least they had now, and bread with a smearing of rancid butter. Everyone ate some, but Ross, feverishly concerned with their good fortune at finding the lugger still there, would have no moving about, no noise of any sort. Until the water came they must lie like the dead.

  It came, inch by inch, so slowly at first as to be barely perceptible. It seemed impossible that this great boat would ever be lifted off its side and would ride upright. As they waited the night seemed to darken and every surrounding tree to hide a soldier. When the water was half in, a rowing-boat went down in the main stream, and then up again. Guards on patrol, or someone returning home late from a love tryst? A nightjar in the creek kept up his rough churring noise hour after hour.

  The water of course would be nearly two hours later than when they had arrived. Perhaps it would never come. Perhaps the lake only filled to these limits in the spring tides after the new and full moon. So near and yet so far. Perhaps they should have made for the coast after all, carrying their two invalids.

  The boat began to straighten. Slowly, as reluctantly as the flow of the tide, slow as dough rising for bread, slow as age, slow as death, the boat came up at last, was riding free.

  The minimum number to man her: Tregirls at the wheel, Bone and Ellery to hoist sail, the others below. Thank God for this night breeze.

  They cast off. Sluggishly she answered her helm. With his pole Ellery fended off the bank and they were away.

  The breeze was fitful. Here in the grip of the land it blew and then dropped – seemed to be picking up from another quarter, dropped again. The sails filled and flapped. Filled and flapped. They made slowly across the lake.

  And then to Ross’s horror he saw that they were not gaining ground towards the lake’s entrance – they were losing it. The inflow of the tide was carrying them in towards the town.

  He crawled over to Tregirls.

  ‘Can you bring her up? We’re drifting faster than we’re sailing.’

  ‘I can see that, Cap’n. But we’ve all but lost the thrice-damned wind.’

  ‘What d’you think the depth is here? D’you think Ellery could pole?’

  ‘Not against this current.’

  Ross put his head in his hands. ‘My God! May I burn in hell!’

  ‘Nay, you was not to know. We can anchor, maybe.’

  ‘In the centre of this lake, and a bare two miles from the town quays? Someone will see us soon, if they have not already. Then they can send round to close the Vire-Court gorge against us.’

  ‘Maybe we can come about and make back where we come from. The tide will turn in a couple of hours.’

  ‘No, go on. Make for the other bank. While it is still dark there is little to choose between them, and I believe the water is deeper there.’

  They crawled slowly across the current, losing ground all the way. By the time they neared the other bank they had just enough way on for Tholly to bring the lugger up into the tide, and Bone let the anchor go and they lowered the sails. Cautiously Jacka Hoblyn reared his head from the hatch.

  ‘What’s amiss?’

  ‘We’re too early. Tell the others. We must wait for the tide to turn.’

  Silence fell. The water lapped gently round the bows.

  Tholly said: ‘We’re no worse off here than where we was before, Cap’n. Who would have waited?’

  ‘A sailor would,’ said Ross. ‘Or a man with a brain – any condition of a brain. I deserve to lose.’

  ‘No one deserves to lose,’ Tholly said, and wheezed a few times. ‘That’s not the way things work in this world. Folk don’t get their deserts. Fortunate for me, eh, Cap’n?’

  ‘You a praying man?’ Ross asked.

  ‘Not much of one. You know I don’t.’

  ‘Well pray now.’

  Some hours later – or days – or sometime while it was still dark, the wind picked up again and they ventured out into the stream. The wind now was less errant and they found the tide had stopped flowing. They sailed quietly and efficiently towards the narrower water at the south end of the lake.

  There would always be a tide through here, except at high and low water, and it had been chance which had brought them through on Wednesday without noticing it. With the sort of wind there was tonight they could never have hoped to get through against the current. Now they made fair progress, probably little faster than a row boat, but steady, creeping between the wooded hills, every minute a minute nearer safety. The sky lightened and darkened as clouds drifted across it. Dawn could not be a long way off.

  So the gorge was left behind and they sailed down the broadening river. The square shoulders of a big château peered through the crouching trees. It could not be far now, but there was still that other narrow neck to be negotiated at the mouth near Benodet. Boats might be watching here for any escape. It did not occur to Ross to change the men on deck, any more than he thought of going below himself. It was make or break for them all, and Bone and Ellery were the best men.

  Tregirls’s breathing kept whistling through his black and broken teeth. Ross looked at him, and thought there could hardly be a better model for a pirate. A week’s growth of beard, the great knife scar puckering one leather cheek, grizzled hair blowing in the wind, savage teeth just showing, one hand on the tiller, the hook fixed firmly into the bulwark to give him stability. He had killed two men last night with no more compunction than swatting a fly.

  Tholly met Ross’s gaze and nodded. ‘Dawn’s breaking, Cap’n.’

  Ross had realized it at the same moment, that he could see his companion’s face too well.

  ‘How far would you say? Two miles?’

  ‘Oh, less. Just a little way. See, there’s the church on the hill. That was soon after we come in.’

  Ross looked at the church and then his eyes were caught by what was astern of him. As the light grew it was possible to see three boats and then a fourth rounding the bend they had just left behind them.

  ‘That little way may yet be too much.’

  ‘What d’ye mean?’ Tholly looked behind him and the boat lurched as his hand jumped on the tiller. ‘Holy Mary! So we’re done! They been following us all the way!’

  Two more boats, and now a seventh appeared. They were quite a way behind the Sarzeau and as yet well out of musket shot, but they were gaining on her.

  ‘We’d best get the others up!’ said Tholly. ‘Seven fit men and there’s four fusils below. They’ll not find us easy meat! John! Jim! See if ye can set a jib! Git Jacka up and one of they loots to help! We got to try and crowd on all we—’

  Ross was pulling at his arm. ‘Tholly! A minute! Wait! Wait!’

  The other two men had
come to the stern, and Jacka had again put his head out at the sound of the raised voices.

  ‘Well?’ said Tholly. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Look again,’ Ross said. ‘Look carefully. Do you think those boats are pursuing us? I don’t believe so. I think they are the fishing fleet from Quimper just coming out with the morning tide.’

  They sailed on. In all eleven boats were following them, and, knowing the winds and currents better, they were catching them up. But if Ross’s assumption were correct, this was an advantage rather than a danger. There were two craft in the narrows at Benodet with sails furled but men about the decks and looking in a state of alert. Both could have caught any lugger built. They made no attempt to stop the Sarzeau. It was one of the fishing fleet sailing out on its daily task.

  As they reached the mouth of the Odet a choppy sea met them. By now the risk was that some of the fishing fleet, which could hardly have failed to recognize a stranger, should take time off to capture it. The Sarzeau was still perhaps a quarter of a mile in the lead as they shortened sail and set a south-westerly course to clear the Penmarche Cape. Anxiously they watched. One by one the other vessels straggled off towards the south-east, and the distance between them grew, and presently they were hull down, and then they had all disappeared.

  The long delay waiting for the tide, instead of being the ruin of the escape, had in fact saved them.

  So all that day, spirits rising, hearts rising as they left the French coast behind. It seemed improbable now that they would be challenged, for no French warship would be likely to pursue a French lugger, and if an English warship did so they could come to no harm.

  They made skilly – slices of bread with hot water poured over them and a chunk of sour butter thrown in with a helping of salt. They had enough food for several days, and with any luck they would make England before it ran short. This diet even began to bring Dwight round, and, sitting as he did in the bows of the lugger with the strong warm wind blowing through his hair, some traces of colour came to his paper cheeks. With Tholly’s keenly honed knife he hacked off his beard and scraped the worst stubble from his chin.