A Safe Harbour, page 36
He took one more look up and down the quayside. It was still deserted. ‘Stay close to me,’ he said to Matthew without turning his head. ‘We’ll board the boat at the for’ard where it’s higher in the water. All right?’
There was no answer and Thomas looked round. One glance told him that Matthew was petrified. He hoped Jos’s young brother wasn’t losing the stomach to carry out what lay ahead.
‘Are you all right?’ He spoke as calmly as he could.
‘Aye, but I’m bloody wet through,’ Matthew replied. Then he gave a watery grin. ‘Let’s get it over with.’
Thomas told Matthew that to break cover and run would make them more conspicuous. So he walked the twenty yards to the quay’s edge with Matthew close behind him. ‘Now!’ he hissed.
And they both jumped out into the darkness.
William saw the two figures clearly as they crossed the pool of light cast by a gas lamp and he knew who they must be. He’d run most of the three miles from the village and had reached the high embankment that overlooked the Shields Quay and the river. The flight of steps that led down to the quay seemed endless, and it was impossible to run down them in the dark without risking a headlong fall. The buffeting wind and the incessant rain helped to make the descent precarious.
Once at the bottom William made straight for the place near the edge of the quay where he’d seen the two figures. When he saw where he was standing, next to Richard Adamson’s Tyne Star, he knew that the two men he had seen were Thomas and Matthew. Without a second’s delay William jumped down on to the deck of the trawler. The jump plunged him into darkness, the deck of the boat being in deep shadow below the quay wall.
‘Damn!’ He cursed under his breath as his left leg hit an obstacle when he landed. It sent him over on to his side and he lay sprawled on the wet deck, stunned and with the wind knocked out of him. He lay there for a few seconds until it became less painful to draw breath. While he gathered his wits he allowed his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Clouds covered the moon and the light from the gas lamps on the quayside didn’t reach deck level.
Gradually objects became visible and he saw it was a coil of rope that had caused him to fall. But where were Thomas and Matthew? They could only be down below. Then he saw that the hatch cover, just behind the wheelhouse, had been left open. That’s the way they must have gone down, he thought. To the engine room.
He stood up and immediately pain shot up his left leg from his ankle. Gingerly he put his weight on it. Although the pain intensified nothing gave way. Thank God it wasn’t broken. Perhaps the pain had provided a jolt of doubt, though, because now William hesitated and looked at the open hatch. Was it any use going on? Thomas and Matthew could have the seacock open by now.
His spirits sank. Was his attempt to stop them futile? With the seacock open the Tyne Star would start to take on water and slowly sink to the river bed. But damn it, he thought, I’ve come this far. They may not be finding the task as easy as they thought it would be. There may still be time.
He limped over to the open hatch and sat on the edge with his legs dangling inside. Then he eased himself down on to the metal grid through which he could see down into the engine room. A dim light flickered up from below. They must have provided themselves with candles.
William swung his legs on to the ladder that gave access to the engine room some six feet below. He could smell oil and grease and the dank odour of stagnant water. He was halfway down when he heard a dull knocking and the noise of metal on metal.
‘Thomas. Matthew,’ he called into the dimness through cupped hands. The noises stopped and William could almost sense the feeling of panic. ‘Thomas,’ he called again, ‘it’s William.’
He heard a gasp and then Thomas answered, ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘I’ve come to try to make you see sense. What you’re doing is madness.’ He gave his hushed voice as much authority as possible. ‘For Christ’s sake stop before it’s too late.’
He reached the bottom of the ladder and groped his way along the trawler’s bulkhead, past highly polished brass tubes, pipes and gauges that reflected the candlelight. Thomas and Matthew were crouched in the corner. They had one of the floor plates lifted. It wasn’t too late to stop them!
‘Come on, lads,’ he pleaded. ‘Get out while you can.’
‘No, you get out,’ Thomas snarled. ‘I told the others you’d gone soft and I was right.’
William ignored his brother’s angry response. ‘Thomas, there’s no sense in what you’re doing. Adamson will hire divers and he’ll have the boat raised within the week. And, besides, he’s got other boats. And he’s not the only trawler owner to convert to steam. Tonight’s work won’t make a ha’p’orth of difference to the fishing.’
Before his brother could reply Matthew said, ‘We’re going to do it. It’s what Jos wanted.’ He looked fired up with nervous energy.
‘Are you sure?’ William asked. ‘Did your brother tell you that before he died?’
‘No . . . but he told your brother. Didn’t he, Thomas?’
‘Aye.’
‘Listen, Thomas,’ William said. ‘Adamson didn’t even have the Tyne Star before Jos died.’
‘Don’t you think his other steam trawlers have done damage enough? Jos knew this one was on its way and he knew she would be the pride of the fleet. The Tyne Star would be able to stay out longer, in all weathers, and catch more fish, he said. He was so worked up about it, he said he’d like to sink it.’
‘He’d like to sink it or he planned to sink it?’
‘Stop trying to confuse me with your clever way of putting things. You’re nearly as bad as Kate. Now, hawway, Matthew,’ he said. ‘Don’t listen to him. We’ve got to get on with it.’
William looked at them in despair. Matthew was holding the candle. Thomas had a hammer and he’d wrapped a piece of cloth around the head to deaden the noise. They had the floor plate open and William could see the brass seacock glinting in the candlelight.
Ignoring William, Thomas put the hammer aside and, reaching down, grasped the seacock with both hands. His neck muscles bulged as he strained to turn it open. Suddenly it moved and the valve opened. There was the sound of water rushing into the boiler.
‘That’s got it.’ Thomas was panting with the effort. ‘Now to stop the bastards from closing the valve,’ he said. And he swung the hammer again and again.
William knew it would be hopeless to try to stop his brother now. Thomas looked almost demented in the flickering candlelight as he rained blow after blow on the brass seacock. Then, as he began to tire and his movements became slower, the valve broke and water gushed into the engine room.
‘Get out!’ Thomas yelled.
Matthew, still holding the candle, ran to the ladder, followed by Thomas.
‘William, you first,’ his brother said. But William knew his injured ankle would only hold them back.
‘No, you two go on.’
They didn’t argue. They brushed past him and climbed the ladder. William followed and had reached the metal grille when he heard a commotion ahead of him. Just outside the hatch by the sound of it.
‘Who the hell are you?’ A voice he didn’t recognize was shouting and cursing. The voice was thick, the words were slurred; either with sleep or drink, William decided.
Then there was a scuffling. He poked his head out of the hatch into the open air in time to see two men on the deck swinging punches at each other. A third man stood watching. He recognized the third man by his slighter figure as Matthew. Which meant that it was his brother, Thomas, who was in the thick of the fight. He also realized that the rain had stopped and a pale moon was emerging from the clouds.
So who could Thomas’s assailant be? One of the watchmen, or perhaps a member of the crew who had been sleeping in the wheelhouse or the fo’c’s’le quarters and had been disturbed by the hammering?
William was still half in and half out of the hatch when the fighting men reached the side of the boat further away from the quay. The other man, even though he seemed to be staggering a little, was getting the better of his brother. He had his arms up behind his back as he manoeuvred him towards the gunwale. In a heart-stopping moment, William realized that he intended to throw Thomas over the side.
‘No!’ William shouted and heaved himself up. But Matthew got there before him. The other man already had Thomas dangling over the water when Matthew leapt on him and pulled him back with all his might. Surprised, the man let go of Thomas, who fell on to the deck, and turned on Matthew. The fight should have been uneven, but Matthew was fired by anger and fright and he fought back fiercely.
Then the bigger man, attempting to avoid a blow, seemed to lose his balance. He let out a despairing cry of rage and fear as he toppled over into the river. William rushed forward. Matthew, who a moment ago had been fighting for his life, was reaching down over the gunwale in an attempt to rescue his adversary. But, all too soon, he sank back and fell on to the deck, where he kneeled and moaned with despair.
‘I had him,’ he told them between sobs. ‘He reached up and I grabbed his arm. And then . . . and then I felt him trying to drag me in after him. I shook him off. I let go. What else could I do? I saw the current take him. I’ve killed him.’
William rushed to the side and looked over. There was no sign of the man. Thomas had risen to his feet. ‘Never mind that now,’ he shouted. ‘The boat’s sinking. It’s time to go.’ He grabbed Matthew by the shoulders and dragged him to his feet.
William realized that Thomas was right. The Tyne Star was settling in the water. They had to get ashore. Thomas and Matthew turned to go. William stayed a moment longer, leaning out over the water and straining his eyes in the pale light to see if he could catch sight of the man who’d gone overboard. His hopes rose when he saw a dark shape break surface about ten yards away, but from the wake it left as it swam by it soon became obvious it was too small to be a man. It was a water rat. He hoped that the man, whoever he was, had managed to swim to safety. But he knew the hope to be forlorn.
‘William, come on!’ Thomas turned and yelled.
With a final glance over the side William limped after the other two as they ran to the bow. By climbing on to the gunwale they were able to reach up and hook an arm round a quayside bollard then pull themselves up, one after the other. First Matthew and then Thomas. William heard them running along the quay as he reached for the bollard.
He got his arm round it but he was bigger and heavier than either Thomas or Matthew and it was not so easy for him, especially with the trawler sinking in the water.
At last he managed to swing one leg over the edge of the quay and then, pulling as hard as he could on the bollard, he eased himself up until, finally, he lay face down on the wet ground, panting with the effort.
The other two would be well away by now, he thought, but they might be waiting for him at the top of the embankment steps. He put both hands on the ground, ready to raise himself, and lifted his head.
The shock of what he saw almost stopped his heart. There, not more than three feet away, were two sturdy boots, the toecaps glistening in some sort of light from above. William rose to a crouching position.
‘What are you up to, lad?’ a voice said. The man was carrying an oil lamp and as he spoke he held it out towards William’s face.
William didn’t answer. He scrambled upright and lashed out with one arm, catching the lantern and sending it skittering across the cobbles. The light went out and, with the curses of the watchman and the smell of burnt oil filling the air, he ignored the pain in his ankle and ran as fast as he could.
Thomas and Matthew had waited at the bottom of the embankment steps. When William reached them they each hooked an arm under one of his and dragged him up. The steps were steep and slippery but panic made them sure-footed. They were exhausted by the time they reached the top and they flung themselves down. Lying on their stomachs, they peered down at the quayside. There was no sign of chase.
‘We’ve got away,’ Thomas said.
‘No we haven’t. He saw me,’ William told him.
‘He doesn’t know who you are.’
‘He’ll soon find out.’
‘How’s that?’
‘How many people have hair this colour? When he reports the incident someone will tell him that’s it’s likely he caught one of the Lawsons.’
‘But that could be me!’ Thomas lost a little of his bluster.
‘It could be but you’ve nowt to fear.’
‘Why?’
‘I told you. He got a good look at me. He saw my face.’
‘What the hell are we going to do?’That came from Matthew and he sounded scared. ‘When they come for you they’ll ask you if you acted alone. What will you tell them?’
‘William won’t tell them anything. Will you?’ his brother asked and William sensed the pleading in his voice.
‘You’re right. I won’t tell them anything because I won’t be here.’
‘What do you mean?’ Matthew asked.
‘I mean what I say. I won’t be here. I’ll have to run.’
‘No!’ Thomas gasped.
‘Use your head, man,’ William said. ‘If I don’t run for it, it won’t just be prison; they’ll hang me. There’s a man drowned, remember?’
‘Oh, God, oh God, oh God,’ Matthew began to moan.
‘Stop that,’ William said. ‘It doesn’t help.’
‘But it was my fault he went overboard,’ Matthew said.
‘He was trying to shove you over the side, remember?’
‘Aye, and me too,’ Thomas added.
William raised himself on his elbows and reached out and gripped his brother’s arm. ‘And if this fiasco is anyone’s fault it’s yours, isn’t it? It was all your crazy idea—’
‘No, it was Jos’s.’
‘Stop trying to blame a dead man. You have no idea if he would have carried out his plan to sink the trawler. If he’d lived, and if he’d gone ahead with the plan, then we could lay the blame squarely at his feet. But he didn’t and what happened tonight is entirely your responsibility.’
‘We’ll have to own up,’ Matthew said. ‘We can’t let you take the blame alone.’
‘What good would that do? We’d all hang. Do you want to break our mother’s heart, Thomas? And you, Matthew, your mother’s already mad with grief because she’s lost one son; what would it do to her if she lost another? No, I was the one the watchman saw and if I vanish there’s no way they can get to you. But you’ll both have to keep quiet about what happened for the rest of your lives – quite a burden. And you, Thomas, will have the extra burden of making sure that our da keeps his mouth shut. Your lives won’t be easy, either of you.’
‘But where will you go?’ Thomas asked.
‘Right now we’re going home and you’re going to get a few things for me from the cottage.’
‘What shall I tell Ma?’
‘Nothing.’
‘She’ll ask.’
‘Tell her I’ll make sure she finds out all she needs to know.’
‘How will you do that?’
‘For God’s sake stop blethering and let’s get home. I’ll wait in the lane until you get my things and then I’ll be off.’
‘You haven’t told me where you’re going to go,’ his brother said.
‘That’s the way it’ll have to be. If you don’t know you can’t tell anyone.’
‘As if I would!’
‘You might not mean to but you’re just like our da when you’ve had a drink or two. I won’t change my mind, so let’s go.’
Alice had insisted on sitting up all night to watch over Charlie. Mrs Hewitson had been to lay him out and the undertaker would be coming today. And Kate knew that Alice would keep her vigil when Charlie was in his coffin until the hearse came to carry him to his last resting place in the graveyard on the headland. Kate made Alice a cup of tea and sat with her while she drank it.
When Alice dropped her head and began to doze Kate eased the cup and saucer from her hands and took them through to the scullery. Then she slipped quietly out of the living quarters. She wanted to open the shop well before Susan arrived. She would give the young woman no cause for complaint. It would only upset Alice, who would be torn between her love for her daughter and her growing affection for Kate.
No sooner had she opened the shop door than the muffled figure of a man pushed his way in, took hold of the door and closed it quickly. Kate looked at him in surprise. His cap was pulled low on his forehead and the collar of his jacket was turned up. But despite this there was still a glint of red hair showing. He was carrying a bundle wrapped in sacking and tied with string. And she thought that when he entered he had been limping.
‘Lock up again,’ her brother William said. ‘I won’t stay long.’
Sensing his urgency, Kate did as she was told. ‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘Is there somewhere we can sit where no one can see us?’
‘Yes, for the moment. We could go to the stockroom. But . . .’
‘But what?
‘Susan Armstrong will be arriving.’
‘How soon?’
‘We’ve probably got about half an hour. Maybe just a little less.’
‘That’ll have to do.’
‘Come through then, but I’ll unlock the door. If an early bird arrives they’ll expect me to be open.’
William followed Kate through, and once they were seated in the stockroom she urged him to talk softly. ‘I don’t want Alice disturbed,’ she said. ‘Now, what is it? There’s something very wrong, isn’t there?’
‘I don’t know where to start.’
‘At the beginning.’
As concisely as he could William told Kate what had happened just a few hours ago and what he intended to do. ‘I’ve been skulking in the shadows until you opened up,’ he told her. ‘I thought it best not to go home. I can trust our ma but I don’t want Da to know too much.’
