Hell and High Water

by Tanya Landman

  “Did you never wonder why she fainted when she saw you? You look like your Pa, she said. Your real Pa. She thought you were a ghost.”

  “Poor Anne! I didn’t mean to shock her.”

  “It was quite an entrance.” Letty laughed suddenly. “Stew all over the floor. The place full of street urchins.”

  “And then you appeared. Towering in the doorway, staring at me! You hated me from the moment I arrived.”

  “I never hated you!” She looked at him with tender surprise. “How could you think that? The first time I laid eyes on you, I thought you were the most handsome man I’d ever seen.”

  Caleb felt himself to be teetering on the brink of something. He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He was too scared to move.

  It was Letty who leaned forward, took his face in her hands, and kissed him.

  4.

  Caleb knew that whatever lay ahead would be dangerous and difficult, but he and Letty would face it together, side by side, and there was great comfort in that.

  By night they sat with the convicts by the fire to eat and talk over what should be done if they found a rescuer to carry them to shore. Caleb and Letty were determined that Sir Robert’s crimes should be revealed. But to whom? Narcissus Puddleby was in his pocket. Of course there were other magistrates, other men of law, but having seen how a judge condemned Pa when he was perfectly innocent Caleb had little faith in any of them. Were there no honest men to whom they could appeal?

  Nightly, they discussed the matter. Nightly, the matter lay unresolved.

  There was, besides, the question of what they would tell the captain of any ship that picked up the felons.

  “We tell the truth, do we not?” Caleb said.

  “No. We do not.” Jack Lancey was firm. “’Twas you who said we’re dead men. If we get off this place, well then, it’s a chance to start afresh. We can take new names, every one of us.”

  “But won’t you give our story your backing?” asked Caleb.

  “Who’d believe the likes of us?”

  “We have evidence.” He turned to Letty. “You still have Pa’s ring, do you not?”

  Letty patted her pocket. “I’ve got it safe.”

  Jack Lancey still shook his head. “There isn’t a man here who’ll trust the law.”

  Caleb persisted. “If the case is made against Sir Robert, if it comes to a trial, you’d be needed as witnesses.”

  “Lord love you! You think I’d walk into court, tell them who I am?” Jack Lancey laughed. “And what would happen next? You think they’d let me go free? They’d have me in irons again soon as look at me.”

  “But don’t you wish to see Sir Robert punished? He enslaved you all! Abandoned you here. A judge would surely make allowances…”

  “Maybe he would. Maybe he wouldn’t. Ain’t no way of knowing, is there? Sir Robert might have all the judges and all the magistrates in the whole damned county in his pay. ’Tisn’t worth the risk.”

  Henry Meddon intervened. “Look, lad, we all been sitting in that stinking gaol for months before we was put on board ship. Doesn’t a man of us ever want to go back. Ain’t nothing you can say will change our minds.”

  Disappointed though he was, Caleb could hardly blame them. Pa had never had a good word to say about anyone in authority either. They were all out for themselves: whether in parliament or palace or church. An honest man was rarer than hen’s teeth!

  And then a thought snagged in Caleb’s head.

  “Letty!” he said. “The Bishop of Torcester! He spoke up for Pa. He knew him to be an honest man. A bishop’s word would carry weight, wouldn’t it? If we can convince him of the truth, surely we’ll have a chance of justice?”

  Letty and Caleb were decided. If they escaped from the island, if they safely reached the shore, if they could make the journey to the city without Sir Robert or his men catching up with them, it was to the bishop they would go.

  Time was now running against them.

  The same current that had carried Pa’s body to the beach would take the Lady Jane’s sailors there too, Letty said, in time. Even if they were bloated, their faces distorted – a crew of eleven: one at least was sure to be recognized if not by a ring, then by an item of clothing, a birthmark, a tattoo. And if Caleb was not amongst the dead? It would not take long for Sir Robert to send men in search of him.

  And so Letty and Caleb kept watch, come rain, come shine, come high and low water.

  Ships passed the island daily, but selecting the right one to hail was no easy task. One afternoon a vessel that Letty identified as Bristol-bound came into sight. Caleb readied himself and the pipe, but Letty stayed his hand.

  “Might be slavers.” She didn’t say more. She didn’t need to.

  A day later another ship passed, this one from Ireland. It would have served, but a fishing boat was spreading its nets near by. If the fishermen saw a signal word would pass from them to the village and on to Norton Manor. They dared not risk it.

  And then at last a Dutch vessel came sailing close to the island’s northern shore and there were no others in sight.

  Pulse racing, Caleb blew on the pipe. A plume of hellfire and smoke billowed out but the ship sailed on.

  “Do it again!” cried Letty. She pulled off her apron and waved it over her head.

  Caleb filled his lungs and blew harder. Flames singed his eyebrows, sending the stink of burning hair up along with the smoke.

  There was a movement on deck. A small flash of light as the sun caught the glass of the telescope pointed in their direction. A command must have been given, for slowly the ship changed its course, tacking around the eastern edge of the island. It would come to anchor in the bay.

  They must hurry, but Caleb couldn’t leave the snares set – to trap a rabbit which would slowly die was a thing he’d not endure. Once he’d taken them up they ran down the cliff path to meet the ship, tearing clothes and skin on the brambles. By the time they reached the beach the eleven convicts were standing on the shingle and a rowboat was on its way to rescue them.

  They were taken off the beach and before long were climbing the ladder and standing on the deck of the ship that had come to save them. Being on the water, Caleb’s sickness returned and he was utterly unable to speak. It was Thomas Sinnett who told the captain a tale of a shipwreck, for what other excuse could any of them give for being stranded on a deserted island?

  The captain had little English, so he did not question their story although he did not entirely believe it. But whatever had happened to this motley crew was hardly his concern. Best to be rid of them as soon as possible. Once the anchor was raised he turned his ship towards the shore. For a while Caleb dreaded that he would make for Tawpuddle, but it seemed the tide wasn’t high enough to carry them over the bar. Instead they came to rest near a small fishing village some ten miles west. After climbing back down into the rowboat, they were landed without incident in a small cove. There Caleb and Letty took their leave of the convicts, each man giving them a solemn farewell, each man wishing them the best that good fortune could bring. And then they melted away, leaving Letty and Caleb free to pursue their own path.

  5.

  It was ten miles of walking. Ten miles along the coast on a path that climbed from cove to clifftop and back like a series of gigantic waves. On level ground it would have taken three, perhaps four hours. On this terrain it took twice as long and by the time they were in sight of Fishpool the light was starting to fade.

  They had approached from the west, agreeing to wait until nightfall before going on. While Fishpool slept they’d creep to Anne’s house, for they couldn’t leave her without a word. Caleb had disappeared and then Letty: she must be in an agony of uncertainty about what had become of both of them. And – oh dear God! – they must break the dreadful news of the Lady Jane’s sinking and of her husband’s death.

  They made their way first to the barn in which they’d rehearsed Pa’s show. Before they went to Anne they would collect bot
h theatre and puppets. If, as seemed possible, they were destined for a life on the road they must have some means of supporting themselves. To retrieve the show made sense. Besides, neither could bear to leave the puppets behind: they meant life, a future, the hope that all would one day be well.

  The sun was sinking into the sea as they approached the barn, both of them keeping low to the ground, staying on the far side of the hedge lest anyone should see them. Such caution seemed excessive until they came within ten yards of the barn door and heard from within a sudden cough followed by a curse.

  “Damn you! Keep quiet, he said. We got to be silent as the grave.”

  “A man can’t help coughing!”

  “Want me to tell him that?”

  “Don’t you go squealing on me!”

  “Well, shut your mouth, then.”

  “’Twas you started cussing.”

  A few more grumbles and then the men resumed their watch.

  Letty and Caleb had frozen behind the hedge, but now, slowly, slowly, inched away to a distance where they could talk unheard.

  Though the voices were familiar Caleb couldn’t put faces to them. Letty, however, knew in an instant who they were. “Stanley and George. The men who took your Pa’s body from the beach? They’ve been set on to keep an eye out for us, I reckon.”

  “What do we do?” The idea of leaving Pa’s puppets – of abandoning the show – appalled Caleb. But as far as he could see they had no choice.

  He was surprised to see a smile on Letty’s face. “I reckon our luck’s in,” she said.

  “Luck? How so?”

  “Didn’t I say they’re not the sharpest of men? I’ll lead them off. Once I’ve got them running after me, you go in, fetch the show out. But be quick.”

  “I can’t let you take such a risk!”

  “You can’t stop me.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “You will not. I know the land, I know the men, and you don’t know either. I’ll meet you down on the beach, right? Where you found your Pa. Wait for me there until I come. I shan’t be any longer than I need to.”

  Hitching her skirts right up, tying them about her waist so she could run unencumbered, Letty – in a display of great theatricality that Stanley and George could not fail to miss – started towards the barn as if attempting stealth, pushing noisily through the hedge. She walked along its side, stumbling in the gathering dark so they’d hear her approach. Reaching its door, getting so close Caleb was sure they’d strike her over the head and knock her senseless, she then gave a cry of alarm as if she had seen something – or someone – in the barn. “Run!” she cried, as if to a companion standing just behind her. “Caleb, they’re onto us! Run for your life!” Then she turned tail and fled inland, making plenty enough noise for two, running towards Fishpool and Norton Manor crashing through scrub and reed.

  Her act would not have convinced more sensible men, but it was pitched perfectly for Stanley and George. They pursued, and when all three had disappeared into the night Caleb walked silently and swiftly to the barn. Hefting the theatre upon his shoulder, taking the sack of puppets in his hand, he walked, as quickly as he could, over the marshes and dunes to the beach.

  Caleb waited alone on the sand, his back to the sea, squinting through the dark, straining for any sound that might herald Letty’s return.

  She, meanwhile, was leading her pursuers on a desperate dance through mud and mire, through ditch and field and then through the woods that surrounded Norton Manor. Whether by pure luck or divine providence she couldn’t say, but, narrowly missing it herself, she led Stanley straight into a man-trap. The iron teeth clamped about his leg, biting deep through flesh and into bone, and his anguished shouts stopped George in his tracks. He abandoned the chase to assist his injured friend, yelling aloud for someone, anyone, to come to their aid.

  Hard though it was to hear those screams, Letty did not stop running. How long it would take to free Stanley, how long it would take George to carry him to Norton Manor she did not know. But of one thing she was certain: as soon as the story of her flight and their pursuit was known to Sir Robert there would be more men on their trail and these would not be so easily eluded.

  She ran from the woods straight across the manor lawns and from Sir Robert’s own jetty took a boat and sailed it downriver. Going against the incoming tide, having to tack from one side of the river to the other, her progress was slow. But finally she was over the bar and sailing towards the beach.

  Caleb waited in agonised suspense, hoping for her success, dreading her failure, fearing above all that he might lose her.

  He was still looking inland, eyes straining to catch sight of her coming through the dunes, when she beached the little dinghy on the beach behind him. At the scrape of its hull on the sand Caleb jumped almost clean out of his skin. William Benson was here to kill him. Dear God, he’d give the man a fight for his money. His hands were up in front of his chest when he saw Letty’s bunched skirts, her legs showing white in the darkness, and heard her cursing, “What the hell are you doing? Get a move on, Caleb.”

  Letty had picked the boat carefully. It was small but seaworthy and chosen to mislead Sir Robert.

  “If he sees it gone he’ll think we’ve sailed on up the coast to Bristol maybe. But if we take it back over the bar and head upriver, why then his men will be looking in the wrong place.”

  Caleb loaded the show on board but the minute they put to sea his stomach began to churn.

  “Look at me,” Letty said. “Watch what I’m doing. Take your mind off your belly.”

  He fixed his eyes on Letty’s hands holding rope and tiller, guiding the boat with confident ease, and it helped a little. The wind was with them now, and the tide.

  “When we’re over the bar the water will be calmer. I’ll let the current carry us then.”

  They were almost on it when something bumped against the hull.

  It set the boat rocking, swaying from side to side. Letty cursed, pulling at the tiller to steady it while Caleb looked into the water. It was a mass of seaweed, he thought. But how could seaweed be so solid? As he and Letty watched, the shape rotated – slowly, slowly turning in the current. And then – for the briefest of moments – the moon emerged from behind a cloud and they saw the white face of the captain, Luke Slater, and smelled the stench of death.

  One by one, the Lady Jane’s drowned crew were finally coming home.

  6.

  There could be no question now of going to Anne. If the barn had been watched then her house, too, would have its guard, whether she knew it or not. All they could hope was that her innocence and her ignorance would give her protection. Once they reached Torcester, once they had talked to the bishop, once the wheels of justice had been set in motion – only then could they send her word that they were alive and well.

  Meanwhile they must go upriver, carried by the tide, using neither sail nor oar in case the slap of canvas, the splashing of wood in water was heard by any who watched for them. Letty, hand on the tiller, steered the boat to the side furthest from Fishpool, not letting it stray onto the mudflats where they might become stranded. Caleb said not a word, letting her concentrate on this most difficult of tasks.

  Going past Norton Manor, all was quiet. The house slept. But then they heard shouting. Pinpricks of light punctured the dark, as if torches had been lit.

  Stanley and George must have reached the big house, Letty guessed. The alarm had been raised. Benson was no doubt calling for men.

  But they were sliding past the manor now, heading for Tawpuddle. No pursuit came by water. And Letty’s ruse had worked. For when a voice did come from the jetty it was to declare that a boat was missing: the miscreants must have set out to sea.

  Reaching Tawpuddle, they passed beneath the bridge, and now Letty deemed it safe to add manpower to tide. The river began to narrow here so sail was of less use than oars.

  For the remainder of that night she rowed, and it was hard, hard labou
r. After an hour the tide turned and the river began to empty itself, threatening to push them back towards Tawpuddle and on to Fishpool. Letty didn’t know the river south of the bridge – once or twice she ran aground on the mud and it was a slow, messy task to free themselves.

  As dawn approached, they neared the point where the river ceased to be tidal. It would eventually become much shallower, Caleb told Letty, and she said it would be wise to abandon the boat and proceed on foot. They’d better sink it so it couldn’t be found by any of Sir Robert’s men.

  After unloading theatre and puppets onto the shore they stripped to their undergarments. Letty fixed a rope to the mast top and, holding it between them, they capsized it in the deepest part of the channel. And then they swam – Caleb towing Letty – and from there waded through stinking river mud and squelching marsh to retrieve their livelihood. Dressing once more, they turned their faces towards the city.

  7.

  They did not follow every bend and curve of the river as Caleb had on his journey north. Instead they cut through fields and woods to make better time, yet the need for stealth meant it was still several days before they neared Torcester; several days in which they resorted to poaching and thieving to eat. A trout from a stream. Eggs from a barn. A rabbit or hare snared in the woods. Both knew that if they were caught they would likely be transported for it and yet they could not make that entire journey on empty bellies.

  As they proceeded the landscape changed. Trees grew tall and straight, the sky stretched between them, the hills curved gently, the colour of earth transformed from dull brown to vibrant red, the colour of Letty’s hair. To Caleb the scene was soft and familiar. The birdsong was sweet, the scent of grass and wild flowers rich and heady but now there seemed something excessive, almost over indulgent in all this bounty. He found himself missing the starkness of cliffs, the expanse of sea. Letty – who had lived all her life beside the water – was struck by the lush growth and the softly rolling hills, but she did not especially like them. She was a creature of cliff and crag, of storm and surge, Caleb realised: vital and elemental, and now as necessary to him as breathing.