Only the Thunder Knows_East End Girls

by Gord Rollo, Rena Mason

  Slipping his pocket watch out of sight, Black strode off into the swirling fog and Burke and Hare had to practically run to keep up with the older, yet unpredictably spry white‐haired man. Black led the two thugs past the busier commercial docks and down toward the far end of the boardwalk where a fancy private ship named Garfield’s Galleon was moored. It was a splendid sailing vessel – one of the newer Yankee Clipper cargo ships, its circular wheel of paddles powered by steam engine rather than the wind.

  “This is it, men,” Black said, pretending not to notice the look on his workers’ faces. They were suitably impressed with the ship, naturally, but it was greed that shone most brightly in their eyes. Black could almost hear their thoughts, calculating what a fine ship like this must be worth and wondering how deep their employer’s pockets might actually be. More importantly, they were wondering how much coin was in this enterprise for them.

  Beside the dock, in a pyramid stack of 2’ x 2’ wooden crates waited Black’s offloaded cargo. It was a smaller pile of goods than Burke and Hare had been expecting, but once they lifted the first container and realized how heavy the crates were, they began to realize that indeed, they’d be earning their pay this night.

  “Blimey, Gov’nor!” William said. “What have you got in these crates…rocks?”

  “Actually, yes,” the white‐haired stranger said. “Well, stones to be exact. Blocks of corundum stone from the Emerald Isle. I’m a sculptor, you see, and it’s up to you and your mate to get these crates back to my room at Tanner’s Close without damaging them. I’ve rented a pull cart for you. It’s over there beside the wall.”

  “How’d they get on the dock?” Billy asked, seeing no work crew or block and tackle assembly anywhere in sight.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but the rather handsome gent there, standing on the aft deck of the Clipper offloaded them for me. His name’s Nickolas Garfield, a colleague of mine from the United States.”

  Burke and Hare peered through the fog and light rain to catch a glimpse of Mr. Black’s friend but all they could make out was a tall well-built man wearing black dress slacks and a navy blue knit sweater, his white captain’s hat pulled down low to conceal his clean shaven features.

  “By himself?” William asked, clearly astonished.

  “Let’s just say Mr. Garfield is a very special man and leave it at that, shall we? If he can handle the blocks, surely you two strapping young men can get them the rest of the way with no worries. Right?”

  “I guess so, sir,” Billy said. “We’ll do our best.”

  “You’ll do better than that, Billy Boy. Deliver them intact and I’ll pay you handsomely. So much as crack or chip one of them...trust me, I won’t be pleased.”

  There was clearly a threat in Mr. Black’s words, and ordinarily that would have set Burke and Hare off in a rage, but tonight neither of them was in the mood for a fight. They wanted to be paid for this job, sure, but there was something unsettling and uniquely dangerous about their mysterious employer and neither friend wanted to do anything that might upset him.

  “Are we clear, gentlemen?” Black asked, his tone lighter, friendlier.

  “Yes, sir,” William said. “Perfectly.”

  Chapter

  5

  Taking turns – one man pushing, one pulling – it took two full hours for Burke and Hare to lug the heavily weighted cart back to the lodging house, and another half hour to carefully unload the wooden crates into the back storage room that Mr. Black was using as his bedroom and workshop.

  Although the two toughies were too stubborn to admit it, both were secretly relieved to have the job behind them without damaging any of Black’s important stones. The task complete, their collectively dull minds quickly turned to the night ahead – a night filled with drinking, fighting, and whoring – now that they’d have extra money in their pockets. By 11:00 p.m. they were on their way out the door, more than ready to hit the pub but a high-pitched scream up on the second floor stopped them in their tracks.

  “That’s my Maggie!” William said. “Come on!”

  They ran up the stairs two at a time only to find Mrs. Hare sitting numbly on a chair outside of room number 6.

  “What in blazes are you yelping about, woman?” William asked, his concern turning to anger seeing his wife unharmed and wasting their valuable drinking time.

  “It’s Mr. Murdock,” she said. “I just walked in and found him dead on the floor of his room. See for yourself. I can’t believe it. We were having a nice chat downstairs less than an hour ago. Now he’s gone!”

  William and Billy pushed past Maggie and peered into room 6. Sure enough, an old heavyset bald man in a frayed brown suit lay sprawled just inside the door, eyes wide open but not seeing anything in this world anymore.

  “So what?” William asked, sympathetic as usual. “The old bugger snuffed it. Was he paid up?”

  “You’re a cruel man, William. How can you ask such a thing with poor Mr. Murdock not even cold yet?”

  William just shrugged, slapped Billy on the shoulder and started back down the stairs. “Well, we’re off for a few pints, love. Don’t wait up.”

  “Oh no you’re not,” Maggie shouted, chasing her good‐for‐nothing husband to the front door. “You’re not leaving me here like this. Not with him just lying there in the doorway!”

  “What do you want me to do with him? Take him to the pub with us?”

  “I don’t care what you do with him, but he’s not staying here. Take him to the hospital or something.”

  William was about to tell her it was a bit late for that, but knew from the look on her face she wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “Okay, Maggie. You win. Come on, Billy. We’ll drop him off on our way.”

  * * *

  Using the same pull cart they’d used earlier to transport the wooden crates, Burke and Hare once again found themselves out transporting a load; only this time one not made of heavy stone. Maggie had found them a tattered blanket to cover Murdock’s body with, but they were still getting some unusual stares from the people they walked past on the street.

  “Let’s just dump him here,” Billy said for the third time since they’d left the lodging house. He was tired, thirsty and in a foul mood.

  “We can’t, fool, but I’ll tell you this. I’m no’ taking him all the way to the Edinburgh morgue either.”

  “Oh yeah?” Billy asked, interested. “Where’s he going then?”

  “Bristo Port. Jimmy Mack told me about a doctor there that gets the dead bodies delivered to him from the jail after they swing on the gallows.”

  “Christ! What’s he do with them?”

  “The hell do we care? All I know, he’s a lot closer than the city morgue.”

  “Can we find him? What’s his name?”

  “Pretty sure it’s Knox.”

  * * *

  Dr. Robert Knox was a rake-thin man with a pallid tone to his flesh not far removed from the men he usually operated on. Knox did indeed accept the deceased bodies of convicted criminals. He ran a small school for newly graduated doctors in the rapidly advancing study of dissection, providing surgeons with vital hands-on training to study human anatomy and improve their operating techniques. It was a thriving, respected school, but impossible to keep running steady; the demand for freshly deceased bodies being far greater than the prison’s limited execution schedule – their only legitimate source of donated cadavers. So it was when Burke and Hare stumbled to his door, he was more than pleased to take the body of Mr. Murdock off their hands.

  “Thanks lads,” Dr. Knox said, excitedly twirling the ends of his handlebar mustache, seemingly unconcerned that what he was about to do was highly illegal. “This is completely unexpected but a huge help to me.”

  “No worries,” William said. “Helps us too. We’ll be off, then. Night, gov.”

  “Wait a second,” Knox said as Burke and Hare were turning to leave. “I haven’t paid you yet!”

  “Paid?” Billy
said, his eyes widening at the notion.

  Dr. Knox went into his office, returning a moment later to count seven one-pound notes into Billy’s slightly shaking hand. When Knox was finished, he bid them good night and thanked them again for their service. Burke and Hare were both too stunned to even speak so they nodded and shuffled away as fast as they could.

  “Seven pounds, William!” Billy said once they were out of earshot. “Can you believe it?”

  “Bloody Hell!” William said, overwhelmed. It was an outrageous sum of money – more cash than either of them regularly earned in months. “We’re on a roll, mate!”

  “Aye. Between this toff with the silly mustache and the white-haired old git at your lodge, we’ll be rich in no time!”

  They both started to laugh, but their jovial mood was cut short when a familiar, large-winged bird suddenly swooped out of the fog like a disembodied wraith causing them to drop to the street, hands frantically covering their heads in case of attack. The Snowy Owl landed on a nearby fence post, swiveled its head to look back at them cowering, and screeched out a series of loud hoots. As if this was some sort of arranged signal, Ambrosious Black strode out of the darkness in the bird’s wake, appearing just as suddenly as he had down by the docks, towering over the fallen men.

  “Not unless you learn some respect, you won’t!” Black said. “Follow me before I change my mind…”

  With that, Black turned and walked off into the night, forcing Burke and Hare to jump up and follow, less they be left alone with the bird of prey.

  “How in blazes did he hear me?” Billy asked, whispering.

  “No idea, mate, but do as he says, hear? And keep that muckle big trap of yours shut next time!”

  * * *

  Burke and Hare skulked along behind Mr. Black keeping a respectable distance behind their mysterious employer. In the fog, sometimes it was difficult to see where they were going and to keep pace, but the phantom owl flew close on their heels, ensuring they didn’t lag too far behind.

  Eventually, Black crossed Main Street and walked through the high steel gates of a place neither man following would have guessed in a hundred years would be their destination – Calton Cemetery.

  “Why’s he taking us here,” Burke asked. “He’s not going to snuff us, is he?”

  “Not likely. Steady, Billy. I smell money in this. Black’s obviously a man of secrets, right? Well, he’ll pay handsomely to a couple of strong blokes like us that know how to keep them.”

  Deeper into the old cemetery Black took them, finally stopping on a grassy hill and waiting for his cohorts to walk closer. Once they were standing face to face, Black chose to remain silent, staring at both men with a strange look of either amusement or disgust; it was impossible to tell which. The silence unnerved Billy first, and he blurted out something, anything, just to break the tension hanging in the chilly air.

  “Ah…is that beastly bird following us with you? Is it your pet?”

  “My pet?” Black repeated, laughing at the absurd assumption. “Of course not, dolt. Nazza is my eyes…and my friend. We’ve traveled together many, many years.”

  William was tired of this senseless chitchat and butted in to say, “No offense, sir, but bugger the bird! I want to know what your plans are for us? Why did you bring us out here to this terrible place?”

  “Fair enough,” Black said. “The second job I mentioned. Remember? Good. Look around, then. Tell me what you gentlemen see.”

  “Easy,” Billy said. “I see dead people.”

  “Do you now?” Black chuckled. “Where? I don’t see any wandering around. Are you sure?”

  “They’re in the ground, obviously. Where God intended them to be.”

  “Precisely. Look down then, lads. See where you’re standing.”

  Burke and Hare looked down to see their shoes covered in soft brown dirt that looked and smelled like it has been recently turned. They were standing on a freshly dug grave. “Oh hell!” William shouted and jumped to the side, eager to get back onto the damp grass.

  “What do you see now, Billy?” Black asked.

  “Umm…nothing. Just some poor bugger’s grave. They must have buried him in the last day or two.”

  “And how about you, William? Is that what you see too?” Black asked. “Just a pauper’s grave?”

  Hare thought it over for a minute, piecing the events of the day together and remembering where they’d just come from. Then it dawned on him and he smiled coldly. “No, Mr. Black. That’s not what I see at all.”

  “What is it, then?”

  “Opportunity, sir. I see opportunity!”

  Black smiled darkly, a great unnerving feral grin spreading across his bearded face. “Excellent. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  Chapter

  6

  “What in blazes is that bloody racket?” William shouted for the second time, staggering down the stairs to confront his trembling wife.

  It was only six o’clock in the morning, but Maggie Hare had been up and cleaning for nearly an hour already. She enjoyed these first few peaceful hours each day before everyone else at the lodge woke up and started ordering her around again. The last thing she needed was William roused from his brief inebriated slumber. He hadn’t wandered home until the wee hours of the morning, and Maggie could tell from the tone of his voice he was still half drunk and in a murderous mood. Never a good sign – for her, or the unfortunate person who’d unwittingly woken him.

  “Shush William…you’ll wake the whole house.”

  “Bugger them all. What in hell is making that infernal clanging noise? It feels like someone is driving a nail through my skull with every bang! If that wee bastard Donny is up making that row I’ll—”

  “It’s no’ Donny, William. He’s by the fire playing his chess, as usual. It’s Mr. Black. He told us he’d be starting his work this mornin’, remember?”

  Maggie expected her husband to fly into a rage, cursing his way to the back workshop to put a stop, once and for all, to their recent arrival’s banging, but she was surprised by his reaction. Amazed, in fact. Instead of anger clouding William’s unshaven face, another emotion altogether surfaced. Was it fear? Couldn’t be.

  “Oh. Mr. Black. His…his statue. Right. Maybe I’ll just pop in and see how he’s making out.”

  “Don’t you hurt him, William,” Maggie said, still convinced her husband would return at any moment to the nasty man she knew. “He’s our best paying guest and we can’t afford to lose him.”

  “No worries, hen. I just want to see if he needs anything.” William started toward the back room, but paused halfway down the hall, almost as if he was hesitant to carry on. Turning back, he asked, “Go wake up Billy for me. He’s kipping up in Mr. Murdock’s empty room. And put a cuppa on for us, luv.”

  With that said, William headed for the workshop, leaving his wife open-mouthed and wondering what was wrong with her husband this morning. Having no answer but happy William was at least no longer shouting, Maggie headed for the kitchen to put on a pot of tea and go wake up her least favorite person in the world.

  * * *

  William knocked lightly on the door and nervously waited until his guest bid him enter. Ambrosious Black was immersed in his work over by the open window, the early morning sun cutting through the gloom to give the large man excellent light to guide his clearly skilled hands. Before him on a raised dais, a stone bust was taking shape, the head and shoulders of a man with piercing eyes peering out from within an ornate armored helmet. The work was nowhere near finished but was already intricately detailed enough that it took William’s uncultured breath away.

  “My God, Mr. Black. It’s stunning!” William took a few steps closer but a noise to his left stopped him. It was the bird. The owl, perched on the bed frame as still as the statue its master was chiseling. Only its eyes moved, riveting Hare to his spot just inside the door, the sight of its immense body and razor-sharp talons deterrent enough that William approached no
further.

  “Well?” Black asked without looking away from the bust. “Did you find anything last night?”

  “No sir. We didn’t.”

  “Then why bother me? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  “Sorry. I just wanted you to know Billy and I dug up three more, after you left. It was hard work and—”

  “Your pay is on the table. Take it and get out.”

  “No, it’s not the pay, sir, it’s where you ‘ave us digging. Everything in the old part of the cemetery is, well…old. Dusty boxes filled with chalky bones and threadbare rags teeming with spiders. We were hoping to have a go at some of the, shall we say, fresher graves.”

  “You’ll dig where I damn well showed you. Grab a recent corpse for your doctor friend on your own time if you want, but best do it sparingly or you’ll attract unwanted attention. Your work for me comes first. Let me know when you find it.”

  “Find what, sir? That’s just it. Billy and I have no bloomin’ idea what we’re looking for. Perhaps if you—”

  “Trust me; you’ll know when you see it. It’s impossible to miss. Take your money and get out. I’m trying to concentrate.”

  Dismissed, and despite having other questions for his employer, William had no choice but to bite his tongue and walk over to the wooden table to gather his pay. There was a pile of shiny guineas on the board, much more than Black owed, and for a moment William considered taking more than his do. When he looked over his shoulder though, the white beast was still intently watching his every move and he thought better of stealing anything from this odd, mysterious man.

  William gathered his coins and left without another word.

  * * *

  Burke was awake, or to be more precise, half awake, sitting droopy-eyed and hung over at one of the tables in the common room. He looked up, bleary-eyed and miserable, when William entered the room to sit across from him. Mind you, after his frustrating visit with Ambrosious Black, Hare wasn’t in the best of moods either. He was a man not used to being intimidated, and being afraid of a crazy old man wasn’t sitting well in his belly. There just wasn’t a lot he could do about.