Gypsy

by Lesley Pearse

  He had been surprised that Sam wasn’t in work, and when he sensed her anxiety about it, he tried to help, never imagining Sam would stoop to being a barman on the Bowery. Jack hadn’t admitted how he was living, or how gruesome his job was — that would have been too much for Beth — but it spurred him on to improve his situation.

  Getting moved into the butchery side of the slaughterhouse wouldn’t seem much of a step up to many, but it was. He was learning a trade which would stand him in good stead in the future, and he didn’t have to see and hear the cattle’s terror. Shortly afterwards he got a better room, sharing with three friends. It wasn’t much, but it was clean, he had a real bed and a place to hang his clothes.

  All through the summer he thought he had the sun, the moon and the stars because he had Beth. He worked extra hours to get more money so he could save a little; he even went to a night class to improve his reading and writing.

  Then came the day he realized she didn’t feel the same about him.

  For a while he thought life wasn’t worth living without her. It was like a knife through the heart hearing that his rival was a gentleman, for it brought back all his old feelings of worthlessness. So many nights he went down to Heaney’s and stood outside just to listen to her playing, and he’d be choked up with tears.

  It was on one of those nights that it came to him that even if she didn’t return his love, maybe he could keep her in his life as a friend. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy, for he’d have to pretend to like Theo the card sharp and put up with Sam looking down on him. But he thought he could do that, in the hopes that one day Beth might need him.

  Well, she needed him now. He just hoped he could track down where she was being held and rescue her.

  Jack was systematic in his search, up one alley, down the next, checking out each tiny dark court in between. He saw drunks lying insensible, near-naked children with hollow eyes sitting listlessly on stoops. Gangs of young lads eyed him up with suspicion, haggard whores offered themselves for a few cents.

  Everywhere else in New York there were Christmas decorations, festooned trees and shop windows full of ideas for presents. But although tomorrow was Christmas Eve, there was no hint of any festivity here.

  Jack spoke to many people. Mostly he pretended he was just off a ship and had been told that he’d got to look up someone called Fingers Malone. Mostly people shook their heads and said they didn’t know anyone by that name. An old whore with a pockmarked face spat and said he was an evil bastard, but couldn’t be drawn as to why, or where he could be found. A couple of lads of about thirteen bragged they’d done a few jobs for him. Jack was pretty certain they’d only heard his name and wouldn’t even know the man if he stood in front of them.

  In a dirty, smoky saloon on Mulberry, the barman said he owned a chunk of property in Bottle Alley, but a man drinking at the bar said it wasn’t there, it was in Blind Man’s Court.

  By eight in the evening Jack’s feet ached. He was so weary of repeating the same story to so many people that he doubted he was making much sense, and he’d scrutinized every inch of both Bottle Alley and Blind Man’s Court. The Bend was no place for a stranger to hang around at night, for the alleys were dark, full of drunks eager for a fight and young lads on the prowl looking for someone to rob. It was also bitterly cold, so he felt he had to go back to Heaney’s to see if Sam had any news.

  It was a relief to get back to the Bowery with its bright lights and gaiety. Music thumped out from the German Beer Gardens, and a marching band was playing Christmas carols. The pedlars were out in force, selling everything from cheap toys to men’s suspenders. There were toffee apples, roast chestnuts and waffles, and the warmth from the stalls and the sweet smells reminded Jack that Beth might be cold and hungry.

  Jack spotted a familiar face in the crowd ahead of him.

  He had only seen Theo once, but his striking good looks were memorable, and in the Bowery such a man would stand out, even without his full evening dress, complete with top hat and a cloak.

  Jack stepped right into his path. ‘Mr Cadogan!’ he said.

  ‘Do I know you?’ Theo asked, looking Jack up and down as if astounded that a man so roughly dressed should know his name.

  ‘No, sir,’ Jack said. ‘But I’m a friend of Beth’s, and she’s in great danger. I was just going down to Heaney’s to see her brother, and I spotted you.’

  Jack half expected the man to claim he had urgent business and couldn’t stop now, but he didn’t. ‘In danger?’ he exclaimed. ‘Tell me what’s happened!’

  Jack explained and added that he felt she was being held somewhere in the Bend and how he’d just come from there. ‘But sommat might have happened since I’ve been gone.’

  ‘Poor dear Beth.’ Theo sighed, looking genuinely distressed. ‘I had intended to go and collect her later this evening, I’ve been away in Boston for some weeks. But I’ll come with you now and perhaps with our combined force we can make that dreadful Heaney get her released.’

  Heaney’s was packed as usual on a Saturday night and a negro pianist was acting as a substitute for Beth.

  Sam looked wild-eyed and frantic, his customary bonhomie with the customers gone. ‘Thank God!’ he exclaimed as Jack and Theo came up to the bar. ‘I’d been thinking everyone had deserted me.’

  Theo had a few words with him, but over the din of the drinkers Jack couldn’t hear what he was saying. Then Theo turned back to Jack, caught hold of his arm and pointed to the back-room door. ‘We’re going in there,’ he said.

  Jack was somewhat bemused that the man he’d taken for an upper-class jackal who liked to scavenge in low places did appear to have some courage.

  Theo didn’t even knock on the door, just charged in. Heaney was sitting at a table writing in what looked like a ledger. His eyes grew wide at the unexpected intrusion.

  ‘I hear you’ve had a demand from Fingers Malone for the return of Miss Bolton,’ Theo bluffed, his voice cold as steel. ‘You may have your reasons for not informing her brother what they are, but as her fiance´ I insist on knowing.’

  Jack was fairly certain Beth had not become Theo’s fiance´e because she would’ve said so at Thanksgiving. While he hated the idea that this might be on the cards, he was glad Theo had come up with a good excuse for his intervention.

  ‘As the demand has been made of me,’ Heaney said, getting out of his chair, ‘it’s my feckin’ business.’

  ‘Not when a young lady is in peril,’ Theo snapped at him, and took a threatening step towards the older man. ‘Now, tell me what you know, and be quick about it.’

  Heaney blustered and stalled.

  ‘How much does he want?’ Theo asked.

  ‘It isn’t the price so much as what could happen in the future,’ Heaney said, a slight whine in his voice. ‘He’ll think he can take everything I’ve got, beat me down and stamp on me. I won’t let him do that.’

  ‘I take it that means you aren’t intending to do anything,’ Theo said contemptuously. ‘You want to let her rot with Fingers, don’t you? What sort of snake are you that a girl’s life means nothing to you?’

  ‘Fingers won’t kill her,’ Heaney said quickly. ‘He wants her to play at his place.’

  ‘She will do that if you don’t lift a finger to help her.’ Jack spoke out, tempted to wring the man’s neck. ‘You’ve got to rally some of your men and strike back. Why not snatch his missus?’

  ‘That wouldn’t bother Fingers, he’d be only too glad to see the back of her,’ Heaney said with a shrug.

  ‘Well, get one of his henchmen then!’

  ‘I’ve checked out his place. He’s got it tight as a drum, his men are everywhere.’

  ‘You mean his saloon, I take it?’ Theo said. ‘What other properties does he own? D’you know where they are?’

  ‘He’s into everything from the stale beer dives to the five-cents-a-night doss houses,’ Heaney replied disdainfully.

  ‘Down on the Bend?’ Jack asked.


  ‘Where else?’ Heaney snapped.

  Jack looked at Theo and gestured to him that he wanted to talk to him outside.

  ‘We’ll be back,’ Theo said to Heaney.

  ∗

  They had to go right outside on the street as the noise in the saloon was so loud.

  ‘Heaney won’t help.’ Jack spoke in a low voice as he lit up a cigarette. ‘So we’ve got to find her ourselves. Bottle Alley or Blind Man’s Court, she’s got to be in one of them. We pick five or six good men and storm ’em. Even if she’s not there, we’re bound to find someone we can put pressure on to tell us where she is. If we go in early in the morning everyone will be sleeping off the grog.’

  ‘I’ve never been down there,’ Theo said, his voice subdued as if this was all too much for him.

  ‘I have, and I know my way around.’ Jack grinned at him, for he liked the fact that he was in a position to command. ‘I know which men to pick too. We don’t want Heaney’s blokes, nor Fingers’. This is just us, getting our girl back.’

  Theo didn’t speak for a moment. ‘I’ll have to go home and change,’ he said eventually. ‘Can I meet you later?’

  ‘We’ll meet up on the corner of Canal Street at six,’ Jack said.

  Theo nodded. ‘What shall we say to Heaney?’

  ‘Nothing, like he’s told us nothing,’ Jack said viciously. ‘But there’ll be trouble after this for all of us. Reckon we might have to leave town for a while.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘Who’s this other cove then, Jack?’ Edgar asked as the men gathered at the end of Canal Street at six in the morning. It was well below freezing and their breath was like smoke as they huddled together under a lamp post.

  ‘A flash geezer, name of Theo,’ Jack replied tersely. He was wishing now he hadn’t suggested Theo joined them, for he was likely to be a liability. ‘Beth’s been walking out with him.’

  All five of the men worked at the slaughterhouse and none had any affiliation with either Heaney or Fingers. They were all big, muscular men, ranging from twenty to twenty-five, but Edgar was the only one born in America. The other four were immigrants like Jack: Karl, a Swede, Pasquale, an Italian, Thaddeus, a Pole, known to everyone as Tadpole, and Dieter, a German.

  The bonds between these men had been formed while working alongside one another. Theirs was a hard, brutal trade and serious accidents could happen at any time, so they had to rely on one another. Jack had once knocked Karl out of the way of an enraged steer, and all the others had someone to thank for giving them a timely warning or helping them when they were hurt. There was a kind of code between all the men who worked in the slaughterhouse that if one of their number needed assistance, the others would give it.

  Jack was one of the group who offered their muscle when Tadpole’s younger sister was raped by three men as she walked home from a dancing class. One of the rapists would never walk again, let alone defile another woman, and the other two received a primitive form of castration.

  Jack had known he could count on these men, for they not only knew that Beth was special to him but had all heard her play at Heaney’s at some time. When he’d called at each of their lodgings, their only question had been, ‘What time?’ Each man had come prepared with a cudgel tucked beneath his coat.

  Sam came around the corner to join them, looking as yellow as a Chinaman in the gaslight. Jack introduced him briefly to the other men, and patted his shoulder in sympathy because he knew Sam was no fighter and could see he was scared.

  Finally Theo arrived. He was wearing working-men’s clothes and Jack fleetingly wondered how he came by them as he doubted the man had ever done a day’s real work in his life. He also wondered if Theo had considered running away from this. But he would have the man’s full measure in an hour or two.

  He introduced Theo, then urged everyone to gather round him so he didn’t have to shout.

  ‘The object of the raid is to frighten people into telling us where she’s being held,’ he began. ‘Shout, push, but hold back on using your cudgels, they are only for those standing in our way, not the poor sods who live in the hovels.

  ‘They’ll be reluctant to tell us anything. They may be down and out but even they have a code of not squealing. They are out in the alleys at all hours, though, so some of them must have seen Beth brought there.

  ‘Finally, watch out for the children. There’ll be hundreds of them; it will be like stirring up an ants’ nest. We don’t want hurting one of them on our consciences.’

  ‘Are we all to go in at once?’ Karl, the big blond Swede, asked.

  ‘No. I’ll go in with Pasquale and Dieter, to make sure the Italians and Germans understand what we want. The rest of you block the door to stop any escaping. I’ve got some money to offer as a bribe, so keep your eyes and ears open for anyone who acts or looks like they know what we want.’

  Jack handed Sam a spare cudgel, knowing he wouldn’t have thought to bring any kind of weapon. He noted that Theo had a stout walking stick, which surprised him; he had expected the man to produce a knife.

  Jack led the way, Sam beside him, and the others followed close on their heels.

  It was odd seeing the alleys so empty and peaceful after the crowds and noise on the previous day. They passed many drunks lying insensible on the frosty ground. Jack wondered fleetingly how many of their number would never wake up, for he’d heard that the death rate in winter here included many who’d frozen to death.

  But it wasn’t entirely silent. They could hear snoring and babies crying, and there was the inevitable rustling of rats going about their business.

  They began with Blind Man’s Court, and Pasquale lit the lantern he’d brought with him. As Jack had expected, there was no lock on the front door, nor even any on the door of the first room they charged into. As Pasquale held the lantern up they saw there were at least fifteen people huddled in together on the floor like sardines in a tin.

  ‘Where’s the girl?’ Jack yelled, prodding bodies with his cudgel. ‘Come on, tell me where she is!’

  One by one heads lifted, blinking in the light of the lantern. A woman screamed, a man swore at them, but Jack persisted. ‘Someone brought a girl here by force yesterday,’ he said. ‘It was around six in the evening. Did you see her?’

  Pasquale repeated the message in Italian when he heard some of his countrymen’s voices. That brought forth a torrent of words and Jack looked questioningly at Pasquale, for though he’d learned a few Italian phrases, he couldn’t understand them.

  ‘They say to go away, they haven’t seen anything. They are upset you woke them up.’

  ‘D’you believe them?’

  Pasquale nodded. ‘We’d best try the next room.’

  They went through the house systematically, and although they saw some two hundred people, ranging from babies to old folk, they learned nothing. Some of the younger men escaped from them and ran outside, where the others stopped them and questioned them. But they had run not out of guilt, just sheer force of habit. It seemed that a raid on that house usually meant some of their number being sent to the Tombs.

  By the time they were ready to move on to the next house, the noise they had created had alerted most of the residents in the little court, and Jack’s men had their work cut out to keep everyone contained within it. Fortunately, as it was still dark and bitterly cold, most were so frightened by the sight of the cudgels that they soon disappeared back inside.

  ‘She wasn’t brought here, Jack,’ Theo said when they’d been in every house, searching from the cellars up to the attics. ‘I’ve never seen such a pitiful bunch. You saw how hopeful they looked when it got around there was a reward for information! They are half starved — if they knew something they’d have been falling over themselves to tell us.’

  ‘Let’s hope we find something in Bottle Alley then,’ Jack said wearily.

  ∗

  The situation in Bottle Alley was a repeat of what had gone on in Blind Man’s Cou
rt, except it was harder to contain the people who came tumbling out to see what was going on, because it was an alley, with an exit at either end. By the time they were half-way down the alley, it was light, and their problems were exacerbated by people who lived elsewhere coming through it. Many stopped to ask what was going on, or just stood around watching.

  Sam looked as if he was on the point of collapse. Dealing with so many people milling around him, all speaking different languages, when he hadn’t slept for two nights, was indeed hard on him.

  Jack was tired too. He felt he must have asked the same questions at least a thousand times, and there were moments when he was tempted to use his cudgel, just to provoke some real reaction rather than the blank stares. A few old crones clutching shawls around their bent shoulders held out filthy hands for money, many of the men hurled insults, and the children darted around them constantly, getting in the way.

  To Jack’s surprise, Theo was very good with the children. Most of them spoke English, or at least enough to communicate with him, and he worked his way diligently among them, questioning, cajoling and promising a reward for information.

  ‘Come over here, Jack!’ he suddenly called out, and as Jack pushed his way through the throng, he saw Theo was with a little girl of six or seven. She was typical of all the children, painfully thin and white faced, with matted hair, and her dark eyes seemed too large for such a small face. She wore only a thin, ragged dress, her feet were bare and dirty and a shawl was criss-crossed across her chest and tied in a knot at her back.

  ‘She heard something,’ Theo said as Jack reached him. ‘But her English isn’t good. She keeps going off into Italian.’

  Jack got Pasquale, who knelt down in front of the child and spoke to her in his language. Pasquale was handsome, with curly black hair, olive skin and soft, dark eyes, and although the little girl was shy and peeped through her fingers at him, she gradually began to respond as he kept talking to her and smiling to reassure her. Theo held out a silver dollar, and her eyes fixed on it greedily. ‘Tell her she may have it if she can tell us what she heard and where it was.’