by Holly Webb
“After her. Look – she’s just gone past the church! I’m sure it’s her, Maisie, I saw that hat with the bird on it hanging on the coat stand in the office.” She hurried to the gate, and Maisie and George dashed after her. “Look, there, do you see? She’s got a smart dark green coat, with a fur trim.”
“That looks ever so expensive,” Maisie said, as they ran out into the street. “A silk dress and a fur-trimmed coat. Could she be buying all that on the wages your father pays her?”
Alice shook her head. “Probably not.”
“She might have saved up for them,” George pointed out. “But it does seem like she’s richer than she should be,” he added quickly, when Maisie and Alice glared at him. “Here, slow down a bit. We don’t want to get too close, in case she spots us.”
They dropped back a little, but it was already getting dark. They couldn’t risk falling too far behind, in case they lost Ivy Eccles’s dark coat in among the hurrying people on the pavements.
“I think she’s making for the docks,” Maisie whispered, after they’d gone a little further on. “Look, we’re coming out on to the Commercial Road.”
“Did she suspect us?” Alice gasped. “Perhaps she realized we were looking for clues in the office and she’s going to hide the evidence.”
Maisie frowned. “She can’t have suspected. She’d never have told us about the charm then, would she? No, we’re just lucky. Now we’ll get to see what she’s doing. If we can get into the docks without anyone stopping us, that is…”
George snorted. “Useless, you are. We just need to wait for a cart and duck down beside it.”
Maisie rolled her eyes. “Very well then, Mr Know-It-All. You can be in charge of that.”
George stepped in front, sticking out his chest importantly and, as they came up to the gate, he gestured to them to press up against the wall. They skulked by the archway until a cart came lumbering past, and then George beckoned them hurriedly through. Maisie hadn’t thought that such a simple plan would work, but no one shouted after them.
The docks were even stranger by night, Maisie thought, shivering a little. In the half dark the ships loomed over them like monsters in the mist, and the noises seemed louder than they ever had in daylight. The water lapped quietly against the stone walls of the dock, over and over again, like whispering voices. Every so often there was a slapping noise, as the ships’ rigging moved in the wind, followed by the creaking of old timbers. She was very glad that she wasn’t alone.
“Look, isn’t that Miss Eccles? Down there – by your papa’s warehouse.” Maisie pointed and they tiptoed after her. The figure melted into a pool of shadow, and then the shadow broke apart again, moving out towards a great sailing ship moored at the dock. Now, there were two shadows – Miss Eccles had met an accomplice. There was a tiny hiss as one of them struck a Lucifer match, and then a flare of yellow light that died away to the faintest glow.
“Dark lantern,” George muttered. “Got shutters to hide the light, so you can signal with it. And hide your light if you don’t want to be seen, more to the point… Still, there’s enough light to see the size of him, though. Look. He’s huge…”
“It’s that man! The one who shouted at us in the warehouse,” Alice hissed, moving closer to Maisie.
“It makes sense that he’d be working for her,” Maisie whispered back. “We need to get closer, so we can hear what they’re saying.” But she didn’t move. She couldn’t help thinking about the way that enormous man had smiled when he told them about the body in the barrel…
“What’s that ship got on the front of it?” George murmured, peering through the shadows. “A girl. Looks like she’s got a tail.”
“Figureheads, they all have figureheads,” Alice told him impatiently. “It’s just to make them look nice. That’s a mermaid.”
Maisie blinked. “Is it?” She squinted, but she couldn’t see well enough. Forgetting to be frightened, she started to sneak closer. She heard Alice gasp behind her, and then the tiniest padding of footsteps as her two friends followed her towards the ship and the conspirators.
“He’s still digging about, Jacob,” Miss Eccles was saying, as Maisie ducked into a patch of deep shadow. The three of them were lurking under the metal framework of a crane now. Maisie thought it must be used for unloading the heavy cargo. “He’s gone off to China to find out what happened to the ships.”
“That Lacey,” Jacob growled. “Doesn’t he ever give up? We need to get rid of him, Miss Ivy. He’s getting to be more trouble than he’s worth.”
“He trusts me, though,” Ivy Eccles murmured. “It’s useful to have the run of the office, to be able to read his letters… If he has an accident, someone else will buy Lacey and Co. and I’ll need to build up that trust all over again. Still. You may be right, we might just have to start again. Lacey’s daughter was at the offices this afternoon, nasty spoilt little brat. I’m sure she was nosing about – she said she was looking for a necklace, but I wouldn’t trust her as far as I could throw her. She was definitely looking for information, even if she didn’t suspect me.”
“What about the ship?” Jacob sounded nervous. “If they’re suspicious, Miss Ivy… Perhaps the Elizabeth Ann had better have an accident, too. They might be able to trace her back here.”
“Yes. What a waste.” Miss Eccles sighed, and looked up at the figurehead. The huge man turned to look at the mermaid as well, and the pinprick of light from his dark lantern fell upon the wooden face. It was thickly painted, the skin creamy white and the eyes deep blue, with heavy black brows. But in the lantern light, Maisie could clearly see the tears trailing down the pale cheeks. The resin beads were just as her father had described them.
It was the weeping mermaid.
“There’s a cargo of brandy in that warehouse behind,” Jacob murmured. “Small kegs, easy to lift. We’ll douse her in brandy, and she’ll go up like a torch. Don’t you worry, Miss Ivy. No one will know.”
“We can’t let them set fire to the ship!” Maisie whispered. “The evidence! We need to get the police! Come on, let’s go.”
The three of them started to back away slowly, desperate to turn and run, but knowing that it wasn’t safe, that they had to be so, so quiet. As they reached the bow of the boat next to the Elizabeth Ann, Maisie drew a deep breath, feeling a little safer. “Let’s run,” she whispered to the others, and the three of them began to hurry along the side of the quay, with the dark water glinting below.
Maisie looked round to check that Miss Ivy and her henchman weren’t following. No, they were clear away, a good three warehouses behind. But when she turned back, she found that she and Eddie were alone. George and Alice had disappeared. And then a strong, iron-hard arm shot out and grabbed her, too, hauling her into the darkness between two piles of crates.
Maisie gasped and kicked and tried to bite the hand that was pressed tightly across her mouth. She heard a scrabble of paws, and then Eddie began to bark frantically, and the person holding her – a man, whose voice was strangely familiar – groaned, “Noah, you didn’t tell me the dog was here!”
“Sorry, Dan!”
Maisie wriggled harder. She definitely knew that voice.
“If you stop struggling and promise not to shout, I’ll let you go,” the man holding her muttered. “We’re friends. Friends, Maisie, I promise you. We’ve come to help.”
“Help!” growled the other man. “Bunch of kids.”
Mr Smith – that was the second voice! Yes, his accomplice had called him Noah. Maisie stopped fighting, and the other man let her go.
“What are you doing here?” Maisie hissed, as Mr Smith opened a dark lantern much like Jacob’s. A soft glow of light lit up their faces, and she saw George and Alice huddled together against the wall of the warehouse.
“Are they coming? Did they hear the dog?” the other man demanded urgently, and Mr Smith peered out.
“No, Dan. They must have just reckoned it was a guard dog. There is one, tied
up over by one of the other warehouses.”
“Good.” The man turned back to look at them and, in the light of the lantern, Maisie saw that he was tall and wore a rough blue jacket, with a spotted handkerchief tied around his neck. He had a cap pulled down low over his eyes, but she could still see that dark red curls were springing out from underneath it. He stared at her and, somehow, his eyes were as familiar as his voice.
“Dad…?” Maisie asked, her own voice very small.
“I didn’t think you’d recognize me. I hardly knew you, Maisie. You’re so tall.”
“It’s been years and years,” Maisie whispered.
“This is your dad?” George demanded, stepping forward. “What did they grab us for, then?”
“To stop you getting yourselves into trouble,” Mr Smith growled. “We’ve been watching Miss Eccles and her accomplice. They’re nasty.”
“How long have you been home?” Maisie asked suddenly. “Why didn’t you come and visit us? Gran’s desperate to see you!”
“I know, I’m sorry. I wanted to lie low. You have to understand, Maisie – you saw my notes, didn’t you? Noah said you got the box.”
“And we found your secret pocket,” Maisie told him, enjoying the flare of surprise in her father’s eyes.
He nodded at her slowly. Admiringly, Maisie realized. She wouldn’t tell him that she had only found the pocket by accident – or rather, Eddie had.
“So you know what’s at stake here. I wanted to be free to investigate back in London, so I kept my return a secret. But you don’t know how I’ve been longing to come in the back gate and sit down at the kitchen table, Maisie. How much I’ve been envying Noah. I watched you, a couple of times, you and this other young lady, setting out on your errands with the little dog.”
“We didn’t spot you,” Maisie said, rather indignantly.
Her father chuckled. “Well, perhaps you get your spying skills from me.”
“Much as I’m enjoying this touching reunion,” Mr Smith muttered, “that lovely pair back there are about to set fire to the ship. We need to fetch the law. They’ll have to believe us now.”
“You’ve already been to the police?” Maisie asked.
“They said they couldn’t search the docks without more evidence. That’s why Noah and I were hanging around the Elizabeth Ann,” her father explained.
Mr Smith rubbed his hands together. “They can’t say we ain’t got enough evidence now, not with Miss Ivy and her mate fetching barrels of brandy. Hey, they’re pouring it out, I can smell it.”
Maisie sniffed, and almost choked. A rich, sharp smell filled her nose and throat, and for a moment her head swam.
“They must be fair drowning that ship in brandy,” George said, coughing a little.
“There’s a policeman walking his beat down the Commercial Road. I’d better fetch him,” Maisie’s father said. “I don’t like to leave you here to keep watch, but—”
“They wouldn’t believe us,” Maisie agreed with a sigh. “They never do.”
“I’ll be quick,” her father promised. “Noah will stay with you. Take this, just in case, Maisie.” He pressed something into her hand – a clasp knife, with an old, well worn leather handle. He made to walk out on to the dock, but then he turned back and swept Maisie into his arms, hugging her tight. “Keep yourself safe. Look after the others,” he murmured to her. “I know you will.” And he was gone.
Maisie stared after him, her heart thudding. “I will,” she whispered. “I promise.”
“We’d better get a bit closer. See what those two are doing down there,” Mr Smith muttered. “No chat, you hear?”
Maisie and Alice and George glared at him, and Maisie felt like telling Mr Smith that this was their mystery.
Quietly, they sneaked out from the little alley between the warehouses and crept back down towards the Elizabeth Ann, tied up on the wharf. The smell of brandy grew stronger and stronger, and Alice reeled dizzily against Maisie and George, overcome by the fumes.
“We ain’t got time to wait for your dad to come back, Maisie,” George whispered urgently, pulling her back a little so that Mr Smith couldn’t hear them. “They’ll light her up any minute. She’s going to go up in seconds, she’s that soaked in spirits.”
“You mean the evidence will be gone?” Alice gasped. “They won’t be caught? The beasts who are robbing Papa?” And she wrenched her arm out of George’s and set off at a staggering run towards the gangplank.
“What is she doing?” Mr Smith snarled. “They’ll see her!”
“She’s frightened for her father,” Maisie whispered. “Oh, Alice, come back!” she hissed. But Alice didn’t turn round, so Maisie raced after her friend. She could hear George muttering furiously as he followed them.
Alice was halfway up the gangplank when Jacob saw her. He had an empty cask under his arm and he was obviously coming to fetch another. He grabbed Alice with one massive hand and dragged her on to the ship.
“Miss Ivy! Miss Ivy!” he growled. “We got a little girl spying about. This the one you was telling me about?”
Miss Eccles appeared hurriedly from a trapdoor leading down under the decks. Her heavy silk frock hissed across the boards with a shhhing sound, and Maisie, dashing up the gangplank after Alice, found herself giving a little shiver of fear.
“There’s another one! Behind you!” Miss Eccles shrieked, as Maisie dashed across the deck to snatch at Alice, and Eddie barked and scrabbled at Jacob’s tree-trunk legs.
Maisie dragged at the huge man’s arm as hard as she could, but he seemed not to feel it. He simply brought his other hand around and swatted her out of the way, as if she were a fly. She rolled across the deck and crawled behind the mast. She felt so dizzy that for a moment all she could think about was how to get away.
Then Jacob did the same to George, who had come racing after them, knocking the butcher’s boy hard against the mast that was just in front of Maisie. George hit it with a dreadful thud and he crumpled to the deck like a rag doll. Maisie began to feel sick.
Mr Smith appeared, stomping up the gangplank. Maisie watched him from her place on the deck, half behind the mast, and all she could think of was his rheumatism, and his creaky joints. Go away! she begged him silently. Go! Go away! Don’t let him hurt you!
But Mr Smith came lumbering on, like a gallant old bulldog, and Jacob laughed. He stuffed Alice into Miss Eccles’s arms, took one step forward and hit Mr Smith – not even very hard. He didn’t really have to try, which made it worse than anything. The old ship’s cook folded over with a wheeze.
“Where’s the other one?” Miss Eccles snapped, giving Alice a furious shake. “The other little girl?”
“Don’t know,” Jacob called over, when Alice didn’t answer. “Over there somewhere. Doesn’t matter, does it. Light the fire. We can take Lacey’s brat with us. Lacey would pay to have her back, wouldn’t he? He’ll pay, and then he’ll keep quiet. We’ll put the frighteners on him. Tell him we could snatch her again whenever we like.”
Miss Eccles looked around for a moment, frowning at George and Mr Smith sprawled on the deck boards, but then she nodded. She reached into the pretty bag she was carrying, and Maisie swallowed a panic-stricken laugh. She had the matches in her nice little bag, the matches she was going to use to set the ship alight, and kill her and George and Mr Smith. It seemed all wrong, that someone so awful should have such a pretty bag…
It’s the brandy fumes, Maisie told herself. And you’re frightened. Stop it! You’re being stupid and panicking. Think!
The mast had footholds, Maisie noticed dreamily. Little metal footholds, to help you climb. But what was the point of climbing? The fire would climb, too, and she couldn’t carry Eddie up the mast with her, and it wouldn’t help George, or Alice or Mr Smith.
“He told me to keep them safe,” she whispered, rubbing her aching cheek where Jacob had hit her. “I promised.” She looked up and, above her in the rigging, saw a heavy wooden block. Just like
the one that was supposed to have fallen from the rigging on the ship in China and knocked out her father. It hadn’t been a block, of course. It had been one of Miss Eccles’s gang, trying to scare her father off and silence him. Or worse. It hadn’t worked, Maisie thought triumphantly. And she wouldn’t be scared off either. She wouldn’t let them win. She was going to look after her friends.
“Stay, Eddie,” she whispered, and the little dog whimpered at her. She patted him and shushed him, and he sank down with his nose on his paws, watching her worriedly.
Maisie began to climb the mast as quietly as she could, feeling the painful drag on her arms as she hauled herself up. Miss Eccles was fiddling with the matches, ready to fling one on to the puddle of spirits they had poured in the middle of the deck. Maisie looked away – Miss Eccles seemed too far down already. Maisie was a city girl, she’d never even climbed a tree. This was like looking over the banisters outside Miss Lane’s room, leaning over too far, so her head began to swim. Only a hundred times worse.
“Where is that other girl?” Miss Eccles was saying to Jacob, down below. “She couldn’t have crept back down the gangplank, could she? What if she’s gone for the police? We’d better find her, to make sure.”
Any moment now they would look up, Maisie thought. But she was nearly there. The block was just in front of her, fastened on to the rigging.
How was she supposed to loosen the rope, though?
Maisie clung to the mast, staring at the ropes and knots, and wishing she understood how they worked. A breeze ruffled the furled sail, the ropes swung and the mast creaked. She gripped on tighter, feeling the ship move beneath her, and closed her eyes. Her skirts swung, and Maisie felt the heavy weight of the clasp knife thump into her leg. Her father had given her the way to save the others! Maisie pressed her cheek against the smooth wood of the mast and whispered, “Thank you, Dad…”
