IV
The stairwell to the tower was steep and dusty, and the light from the lantern was dim. Jane groped for hand-holds in the rough walls, then finally the density of the darkness lessened; they came through a trapdoor on to the roof of the square tower. The figure of a man, leaning against the parapet, turned swiftly.
‘We found her headin’ this way on the Lydd road, Mr. Fletcher. Leadin’ an ’orse.’
‘We’ve brought ’er to speak for ’erself. Says she’s got a message for you … ’er name’s Liza Thomas.’
‘Liza Thomas? …’ His tone was speculative.
Jane stepped forward. ‘You ain’t never ’eard o’ me, Mr. Fletcher. I’m cousin t’ Adam Thomas from Appledore. He sent me.’
There was a perceptible stiffening of Paul’s body, but he said nothing for a moment. For Jane it was a moment to wonder whether he would recognize her voice before she was forced to begin explanations in the presence of the other men.
He spoke quietly. ‘All right, Harry … John. You can leave her. Hitch the horse by the south door. I’ll be down directly there’s any sign of movement out there.’
They waited in silence for the men to leave. Paul made a warning gesture towards her; he stood by the trapdoor watching the lantern light grow fainter. Then he stooped and closed it.
‘Big ears!’ he said softly.
She moved close to him, taking his arm. ‘Paul, I had to come …’
He shook off her hold impatiently. ‘Damn you, Jane! Don’t you know the meaning of discipline? How do you think this organization is run. We’re not here to play games! … you’ve disobeyed orders!’
His tone, stern and unfriendly, stung her to retort. ‘Just wait before you have too much to say!’
He ignored her, sweeping on, ‘… And you’ve exposed yourself to these men. How long did you think you’d go unnoticed in that ridiculous costume? ‒ and riding Blonde Bess, I’ll be bound!’
‘Wait!’ There was a period of cold silence between them. ‘I’ll leave when I’ve said what I have to say. I’m aware we’re not here to play games … and don’t imagine it was a game for me to find my way here across the Marsh to-night. Or to have those men pawing me!’
‘Did they touch you …?’
‘It took them overly long to decide by feel whether I was a boy or a woman … they were ready for a little sport. It’s a good job they’re afraid of you, Paul.’
‘Well, what did you expect?’ he said shortly. ‘These aren’t gentlemen with pretty manners. They take a woman when they want her, and in whatever circumstances they can get her. And a woman wearing breeches is an open invitation. In their minds you were just asking them to put you on the ground and have their sport …’
He went on. ‘Two of those men were impressed into the Navy, and served their term. You know what happens on the lower deck, Jane, when the Navy’s in home port? … the men have three feet of space to lie with their women. And those who want a woman take her there with all the others, or go without. It doesn’t make for reticence or consideration of the woman they use …’
‘Oh, hush!’ she said angrily. ‘I haven’t come all this way to have you preach to me about the wenching habits of sailors. That was a risk I took … along with breaking my neck if Blonde Bess stumbled. I’ve got five hundred pounds at stake to-night … and a good deal more. If we lose the cargo to-night, I lose Blake’s Reach.’
‘I didn’t know it was yours to lose …’
Her voice was tense and slow. ‘It is mine ‒ make no mistake about that! And unless you lose this cargo it has a chance of being something I might be proud of …’
‘Lose the cargo?’ he said. ‘I’ve never lost a cargo!’
‘You could ‒ to-night. The Preventive Officers know you’ll try to land it and the Dragoons have been called out.’
He was silent for a time; she strained to see his face in the darkness but there was nothing to see. There was no movement of surprise or alarm; nothing but stillness and silence. She had never imagined such coldness in Paul, and she began to know, suddenly, his qualities as a leader.
‘How did you hear this?’
She told him quickly of the meeting outside the ale-house at Hythe, repeating as well as she remembered everything the two excise men had said. Between them the hostility dropped away; she had the feeling that Paul had forgotten her as a person, forgotten his own anger with her. He was completely and impersonally absorbed in her words.
‘So they’ll go to Langley ‒ it’s as I hoped.’
‘Then you knew!’
‘Yes, I knew. The word leaked out. Perhaps an informer ‒ or perhaps carelessness. One of the women, maybe. Time enough to deal with that after we’re through to-night’s work.’
‘Couldn’t you have stopped the Dolphin? ‒ sent her back?’
‘If you want profits, Jane, there’s no time to wait around on the movements of the Customs men. You have to set the pace! The Dolphin could make another trip to Flushing for a cargo in the time we would have wasted letting her cool her heels outside the legal limit. Organising a run costs money, and I’ve no money to waste. So I let the Dolphin come on, and let the word get back to the Preventive men that we had learned they were planning a raid, and we’d switched the operation to Langley. It’s near enough not to rouse suspicion, and if the Dolphin’s sighted in the Channel, she could be making to either place.’
‘If she’s sighted, won’t they send a Revenue cutter out?’
‘They would, if they had one. The cutter, Falcon, whose station this is, suddenly developed a mysterious leak in Folkestone to-day, and she’s unfit for duty.’
‘You did it?’ she whispered.
‘I arranged it ‒ and it cost plenty. But I had to be sure the Falcon wouldn’t interrupt the unloading to-night. She doesn’t have the Dolphin’s speed, but she could either force us to pull out to sea, or fight it out. At any cost I want to avoid doing either ‒ the Dolphin’s loaded with a cargo that’d make your heart sing just to see it, Jane. I managed to borrow some more money, and this cargo’s worth more than a little risk.’ Suddenly he gripped her arm, the even control of his tone breaking. ‘For the first time, Jane, I’m not being paid to take a risk! ‒ this time it’s for myself, and the profit’s mine! Nothing’s going to stop me making that landing to-night!’
‘The Dragoons …’
‘Ah …!’ The sound was contemptuous. ‘I’ll take my chances on the Dragoons. They’ve no liking for chasing smugglers, and no heart in it. If they’re clever enough to come back here after drawing a blank at Langley, then we’ll have warning of it and clear out. Just an hour or two’s all I need, and I’ve planted false scents at Langley that should keep them busy for that length of time.’
‘Just an hour or two …’ she said. ‘Then could I stay? … Paul, let me stay!’
‘Stay! … why?’
‘Surely there’s something I could do … you need to hurry don’t you? Then why shouldn’t I be of some use, even if it’s just staying with the horses. I’ll reckon there’s not an able-bodied woman in this village to-night that’s not lending a hand somewhere.’ Her tone warmed and grew persuasive. ‘Don’t you see, Paul ‒ it’s my cargo too that’s coming in to-night. It’s my luck that’s riding on the Dolphin. I want to be here … As soon as they start unloading they’ll all be so busy they’ll never notice me, or stop to wonder who I am …’
Her voice trailed off indecisively, and she stood beside him at the parapet waiting for his answer. He said nothing. The minutes dragged out, and still he didn’t stir or speak. The moon was gone, completely blanketed now by the clouds that had built up solidly in the west. In the silence and darkness there was only the sea, not seen, but heard in the lapping against the shingle bars, and felt in the sharp wet smell in her nostrils. Gently Paul’s arm came about her shoulders; he held her lightly against him, almost absently, seeming to draw comfort from her presence, but not surrendering his watchfulness to her. At this moment she wa
s a companion, nothing more. Her eyes strained in the darkness to catch the signal at the same moment that he would. She was calm, knowing fully the danger in which she stood, and also aware with another part of her mind, of the strange joy of sharing it with Paul; of feeling each second go with a heightened sense of its passing. She knew that there might never have been another moment like this in her life again. Her senses were sharpened to perceive and to remember; there was sadness in knowing that the memory of this might have to serve many evenings of dozing by the fire. Her body grew taut with stillness, so that she hardly seemed to breathe.
It came at last. A blue light flashing twice from the Channel. Paul uncovered the lantern that stood at his feet, and hashed it above his head once ‒ twice.
He spoke softly. ‘Down to the beach … quickly!’ Confidently and sure-footed now, she followed him down the winding staircase.
***
The beach was crowded with people who seemed to move with ease by the dim light of the masked lanterns. Low voices were heard, speaking briefly with a pitch of urgency; she caught the sound of boats scraping against the shingle, the subdued splash of oars. Her ears were assailed with all the unfamiliar sounds of the sea and the people who lived by it. Occasionally there was a woman’s voice, not authoritative, just part of the background, because it was recognized that speed was needed, and that a woman was no more than a strong back and a pair of hands. Jane could only vaguely make out the forms moving among the boats, the outlines of the boats themselves, the small swirl of foam where the water broke against the shingle. There was a string of horses waiting ‒ some of them were harnessed to carts. The shingle made heavy walking; the rounded stones rolling under her feet; several times she half fell, and Paul didn’t notice. Once again he seemed to have forgotten her identity, and even her presence. She hurried after him, and humbly kept silent, suddenly aware of her ignorance and uselessness in the midst of this orderly speed.
He gave one or two swift commands in passing along the boats, stopping a moment to watch one of the craft being pushed off. But for the most part his orders were unnecessary. The people along this sea coast had been going out to meet the smugglers’ luggers for many years and many generations.
But he assigned no duty to her, and gave her no order. She followed him closely, and in silence, trying to efface herself, and merge into the bustle about her. Then the last of the boats was gone, and a quiet fell on the group left behind. A soft murmur in a woman’s voice now and then was all she heard ‒ that, and the stirring of the horses, and the impatient stamp of their feet. She wondered why Paul did not go with the boats, and then immediately answered the question for herself by realizing that in a crisis the leader must be on the shore. The skipper of the Dolphin and Paul were the only two that night who counted for more than their ability to lift a keg of brandy.
She grew nervous in the silence and the waiting. Around her, some of the dark forms sat down on the shingle; she stayed close by Paul’s shoulder, wishing for the easing of tension that would come when the boats returned. There was no sign of a break in the clouds, and she realized that she would not get even a glimpse of the outline of the Dolphin. The monotonous slap of the tide on the shingle grew oppressive. She stood with her chin huddled into the collar of Kate’s old cloak.
It seemed a small age of time before again she heard the faint swish of oars, and the first boats showed through the darkness. Suddenly Paul was by her side no longer; he moved first towards the string of waiting horses giving orders in a low, tense voice, then he brushed past her hurriedly, wading out into the surf to meet the first boat.
After that there was no time to wonder where he was, or what he was doing. She found herself surrounded by people pressing forward to unload the cargo. A young woman moved beside her, and started to hitch up skirts and petticoats and move out into the water ‒ a deep-bosomed young woman with the strong supple body of a hard worker. Jane followed her, feeling the shock of the cold water as it rose above her boots and swished about her legs. She found herself next to the young woman as they both grasped the gunwale of the boat, and started to drag it ashore. It scraped with unusual loudness on the shingle. Jane was half soaked with water as the crew jumped out; for the first time in her life she tasted the salt spray on her lips. Suddenly she could feel herself laughing inside with excitement and nervous expectancy. She became one of the group; she fell into line beside the young woman, forming part of a chain that extended to the waiting horses. A large package was dumped into her arms, and she passed it to the next woman; from the feel of the oilskin she knew it was tea. Moving past them were the line of men carrying the tobacco bales. Out at the Dolphin she knew they would be loading the wool bales which the boats had brought out ‒ the wool which would pay for their next cargo in Flushing or Roscoff. Her body fell into the rhythm of the movement; she began to glow with a sense of exhilaration and triumph. It was difficult to keep from laughing out aloud now. Suddenly and incredibly she knew that she liked being here for the sake of the excitement alone; that she was also securing the future of Blake’s Reach was a thing quite apart. She knew that she was consciously enjoying the swirl of the water about her legs, and the knowledge that a few miles along the coast the Dragoons were searching for them. She found herself grinning at the young woman, and receiving an answering grin as she turned to pass on the next bundle.
They finished unloading, and helped push the boat again. Then they moved to the next boat; the line fell into place, and the movement was set up once more. After a while her arms and shoulders began to ache and twice she nearly lost her footing in the water when she leaned forward out of balance to take an oilskin package. But the sense of excitement did not leave her; she knew her nerves were at a pitch where she could have gone on working to the point of collapse. She knew that time was passing; her feet grew cold in the water; her arms and shoulders felt as if they were on fire.
Now the first boat carrying the brandy kegs had touched the shingle. She paused briefly to watch the ease with which the men slung the half-ankers on their shoulders, and waded out of the surf towards the horses. Then she felt a tug at her arm; the young woman beside her, gestured towards the carts. Quickly she scrambled to catch up with the others. The women were waiting patiently, bundles in arms, to help load the carts and the pack-horses. Here Jane was more at ease, and she slipped round to hold the head of each horse as it was loaded; most of them were work horses, heavy and strong, but others were of lighter build, borrowed from the stables of the neighbouring farms. The tea and tobacco was all loaded, and they had started tying the kegs in place when the alarm came.
‘Light in New Romney tower, Mr. Fletcher!’
A sudden stillness descended on the whole group; action was frozen for a second ‒ arms upraised with kegs, fingers buckling harness. A low, uneasy murmur rose in a few throats. Over to the east they could all see it ‒ a light that blinked and disappeared, and blinked again. Someone was waving a lantern from the tower of New Romney church.
Then Paul’s voice was heard, dry, matter-of-fact, carrying along the line of waiting men and animals.
‘All right! … you all know what you have to do! There’s time yet. That light means they’ve only got to the edge of New Romney. The kegs still in the boats are to stay there. Row them out and drop them overside. We’ll pick them up to-morrow. Get the stuff that’s been landed into the carts ‒ and move yourselves or you’ll all have the privilege of serving in His Majesty’s Navy.’
He turned and called to the end of the line. ‘Jerry! ‒ start the potato carts moving! You’ve plenty of time to get to the turn-off by Carter’s place before they do. Smartly, now! Move, boys!’
He strode along the line, checking the loaded carts. The head of the procession was ready to move; at the end two carts detached themselves and started off in the direction of New Romney.
Jane plucked at Paul’s arm as he passed. ‘What’s happening?’ she said softly.
‘Came before their time,
damn them!’ He was poised, ready to move on. ‘I’ve two carts loaded with potatoes as a blind. They’ll wait by the turn-off to Carter’s farm, and when the Dragoons come up, they’ll think they’re part of the cargo making towards the hide. If Joe can lead them a bit of a chase, then it’s extra time in our hands.’
Then his tone dropped. ‘Now you get out of here! ‒ do you understand me! Go and get Bess, and by the time the Dragoons touch Barham, you should be the other side of Lydd. I’d send a man with you but I’ll need every hand for unloading at the other end.’
‘Where are you taking the cargo?’
‘It’s better if you don’t know that. But it’s not far from here, and we’ll all be under cover before the Dragoons start nosing round.’
He put his hand on her shoulder and spun her round.
‘Now, go! ‒ quickly!’
Without a word she started moving down the line, heading in the direction of the church. She ducked in between two carts, and started helping with the loading on the off-side, out of Paul’s sight. There was haste but no confusion; the loading went on in an orderly fashion. The boats had already pushed off from the shingle, and out farther in the bay she heard the first splashes as the kegs started to go overside. Although she knew it was common practice to dump kegs in an emergency, and retrieve them later, each separate splash was like a blow to her. Suddenly she was conscious of her water-logged boots, and the weight of the wet cloak pulling at her shoulders.
The loading was finished. The women stood by watching as the men tightened the last ropes, and the head of the procession started to move. It was heading towards Lydd. The hide Paul had selected would be an emergency one; no one wanted to leave the cargo close to the coast or to the place where it came ashore. But there was no choice. Mounted Dragoons could easily overtake the cavalcade, and the cargo was rich enough for them to risk an armed clash with the smugglers. Paul had to get it hidden as soon as possible, and move it when he could.
Blake's Reach Page 28
