The Curse of Salamander Street

by G. P. Taylor

  ‘Payment for your sailing, boy. Your life belongs to me,’ Crane replied with a smile and a wink, the light from the door reflecting from his face. ‘Onward – the Salamander awaits. I shall have two herrings and a boiled egg.’

  Kate stumbled into the bar of the Salamander Inn. She shielded her eyes from the glare of the lamps that lit every corner and dark place. Blinking several times, her eyes slowly became accustomed to the light and she saw what was before her. The inn was a place of warmth and light. Music played loudly, people sang and danced on the polished wooden floors, and like the rest of the street the inn was incredibly clean, with not a speck of dirt to be seen. It was packed with tables and at each sat four or five people. She was aware of Crane, Pallium and Thomas following on, but her mind was taken up by something more incredible. For the first time that she could ever remember Kate suddenly felt totally happy. It was as if every care in her life had gone, forgotten in the bewitchment of the Salamander Inn.

  A gigantic fireplace warmed the room and everywhere she looked there were happy, shining faces. People of all sizes and ages talked merrily. She could not make out what they said, all was babble, but that did not matter. This was not the discord of the gin-house but the open conversation of friendliness. It was not like the dirty drinking houses that lined the quayside at Whitby. No one seemed to notice them as they stumbled in. All appeared lost in the chatter with their companions. The hosteller looked over the crowded, noisy room and gave his welcome, nodding his whiskered face to four seats in the corner by the fire.

  Kate looked upon the walls that glimmered with gold and silver paint all edged in bright blue. The wooden floors were polished, scrubbed and dowsed in sawdust that smelt strangely of lavender.

  Pallium led them on, shrugging his shoulders as he looked back to the door. ‘Shouldn’t be here,’ he mumbled to himself. ‘Should be at home with the money.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ came a loud voice from a table by the lighted window. ‘This is the place you should be, Mister Pallium. See, I have saved you a table and a seat for each of your guests.’

  Mister Pallium suddenly changed. He quickly stood upright and puffed out what chest he had left. His hand speedily smoothed his hair and rubbed his cheeks, and then spinning on his fine shoes he turned in the direction of the voice. ‘MISTER GALPHUS!’ he exclaimed as he threw open his arms as if to welcome a long-lost friend. ‘It is you …’

  ‘Of course, dear Pallium, it is me … What a pleasure to see you again.’ The man stopped speaking for a moment and stared at Jacob Crane and then at Thomas.

  ‘Jacob, Kate, Thomas, come and be seated and we shall drink together,’ Galphus said. He raised his hand to signal to the hosteller, who immediately arrived at the table, followed in turn by two servants who carried large trays with silver warming tops.

  Kate looked at Galphus sitting serenely in a high-backed oak chair by the window. He wore a small green felt cap upon a bed of neatly cropped hair. Galphus wore the suit of a trader with a thick green tweed coat that came to his knees. At the elbows and the cuffs it was sewn with leather patches.

  It was then that she saw his hands. Upon each he had five fingers and a long thumb. Boggle, she thought quickly to herself, hoping that Thomas would see it too – She remembered Rueben Wayfoot at Boggle Mill and the morning they had taken breakfast together. He had the same hands, and in so many ways looked just like Galphus it was as if they could be brothers.

  ‘Kate,’ Galphus said softly as he noticed her staring at his extra fingers. ‘A quirk of nature and a cruel joke upon me,’ he mocked, changing his face to a sad expression. ‘Tell me – what brings you to Salamander Street?’

  ‘Our mutual friend, Mister Pallium,’ Crane interrupted. ‘I have known him a while and he said that should I be in London then I was to call.’ He looked at Galphus. ‘Then again, from what he has said to us, you already knew we were on our way.’

  ‘Another cruel joke of a cruel creator,’ Galphus laughed. ‘I have been dogged with seeing what is to come. I dream. Practically live in the sleeping world, and whilst there I experience what is to come. That, and a device which helps me to focus my dreams so that everyone I choose can see them also.’

  ‘How can you do that?’ Kate asked, forgetting that Crane had told them to be silent.

  ‘Kate, it is a great mystery. Mankind can travel to the farthest out places of the world and discover whole continents. Yet within us all there is a galaxy just waiting to be explored. It is an inner universe. But I feel as if it is not just within but without.’ He looked at the food that had been placed upon the table under the silver warmers. ‘If I am correct in my assumptions then what is on each of your plates is what you all really desire to eat at this very moment.’

  ‘Then you would not be a man to gamble with,’ Crane said as he lifted the silver lid from his dish. There on a white china plate were two perfect fried herring. By the side of each had been placed a fresh, soft boiled egg that had been meticulously peeled.

  Kate gasped as she lifted the lid upon her breakfast. There was a bowl of steaming milk, curdling cheese and roast apple. The smell of nutmeg swelled from within and brought to her the memory of her mother and the coming of Christmas.

  Thomas laughed as the eyes of the gathering fell upon him. There was great expectation, as if he were the last piece of a puzzle about to be placed. ‘You could never guess what I desire,’ Thomas said as he slowly lifted the lid, his eyes widening in disbelief.

  ‘Beef slices upon crusted bread and smothered in gravy?’ Galphus asked.

  ‘’Tis true,’ Thomas replied as he cut the meat with his knife and then ate it with dramatic celerity.

  ‘Very good, dear Galphus,’ Crane said, looking at Pallium as if he had somehow informed upon them. ‘Not only did you herald our arrival but you know what we would eat. Is there any point in conversation? For you will know what we are to say before the words appear upon our lips.’

  ‘Party tricks, Jacob, party tricks. I know nothing of your thoughts and am but shown portions of the future. I dreamt of the ship coming and of your food. What good is that in telling the future? That in itself will not change the course of history.’

  ‘No food for you, Pallium,’ Crane said. ‘Galphus must know you have lost your appetite.’

  ‘But I do know where the Magenta is berthed,’ Galphus said quietly.

  ‘By another dream?’ Crane asked.

  ‘By street gossips,’ Galphus replied. ‘It will be taken to Dog Island, the rigging chained and a charge of gunpowder placed in its belly. It is the news of London. A plague ship full of rats– that’s what they say. It is also said that two children were stolen from their master in Whitby.’ Galphus spoke quickly. He looked directly at Crane. ‘If you were to be caught they would hang you for kidnap, Captain Jacob Crane. Think on that as you swallow your herring.’

  ‘Then you’ll turn us in?’ Crane asked.

  ‘Luckily for you it was made very clear in my dream that you were to be protected at all costs. Whatever you are running from is coming to find you. At least in Salamander Street you will be safe.’

  ‘Even with a price on our heads?’ Thomas said.

  ‘There would not be enough money in the world to make me give you up.’ He spoke quietly, his words stern. ‘This is not by chance that you are here, not by chance.’ Galphus smiled as he picked a fishbone from Crane’s plate and began to clean his teeth. ‘I would betray a friendship. Someone whom you have met. I too have the acquaintance of Abram Rickards. I believe he was known to you in Whitby and helped in your escape.’

  ‘You’re well connected, Galphus. News travels fast,’ Crane said. He rubbed the fish oil from his chin with the back of his hand. Kate and Thomas could not contain their exhilaration.

  ‘Have you heard from Abram?’ Kate whispered as the raucousness went on around.

  ‘Not in a long while. I hear he is in London. He was seen some nights ago by London Bridge just before the sky-quake.’ Galphus be
came sullen and drew them close as he leaned towards them and hushed his voice. ‘I have known him many, many years and I know he will be very surprised to see me again.’

  ‘So, Galphus,’ Crane said. ‘You say we are safe. I say I’ll wake up and find a Militia man standing at the end of my bed if I stay here.’

  ‘Still don’t trust me?’ he replied. ‘Look about you, Jacob. Everyone here is just like you. They have run from their past, left families and fortunes so they can be free. Yet to a man they all trust and believe in Mister Galphus.’

  ‘Never trust anyone until they prove it.’

  ‘Perhaps I can do just that,’ Galphus said as he picked a long thin silver cane from the side of the chair and twizzled it in his hands. ‘I have a party trick, a way of entertaining my guests,’ he said jokingly. ‘Gather round and see what is to come.’ With that, Galphus took the cane and held it before them all. It looked to be made of solid silver and was tipped with a round glass globe that shone milky-white.

  Galphus pulled up his chair and stared into the crystal ball. He mused for a while, his thick eyebrows twitching up and down, then coughed slightly to clear his throat. He looked solemnly at each one of them before he spoke.

  ‘Wonderful, amazing, marvellous …’ he said as he looked into the glass and then tutted as if he saw something he had expected. Kate stared into the crystal; she saw nothing but the reflection of the fire and the many people who by now had gathered around them to see Galphus’s performance.

  ‘There is a rumour in the world of my dreaming that someone close to you will be seen again. Someone you thought to be lost and long gone – do you know of whom I speak?’ Galphus asked with a dramatic smile. ‘I can see him travelling, walking across the windy moors.’

  Kate jolted a glance at Thomas, daring not to say the name. He stared back at her and then at Galphus, his look urging him to speak.

  ‘I have lost many people in my time and can’t recall …’ Crane said, his face telling the children to be silent.

  ‘You are wise not to mention his name or where he is from. But I can tell you he is alive. He searches for you with a desire that can overcome death.’

  Kate felt as if she would explode if she didn’t say his name. She had to know the truth from Galphus. ‘Do I know the one of whom you speak?’ she asked, talking as she ate.

  ‘Not only do you know him, but you have spent much time with him. From what I can see in the crystal, he is on his way to London.’ Galphus touched the tip of her nose with his finger. A spark cracked from the tip as if a minuscule bolt of lightning had jumped through the ether towards her.

  ‘Another one of your dreams, Galphus?’ Crane said as he leant forward. ‘Was it picked from slumber and chewed like cud? Don’t give them great expectations, Galphus. These kids are in my care and I don’t take lightly to them being made fools of.’

  ‘I tease not, Jacob. Within the crystal, news travels faster than the horse and outruns the mortal messenger. These matters are of heavenly importance. For as your friend seeks you, so does another – an adversary. I can see him in the stone; he hides his face like a spectre in the candlelight. You all know his name and it doesn’t need to be repeated.’ Galphus rambled as he stared at the walking stick. ‘You are being hunted by your friend and news is but two days away.’

  ‘So what is your place in all of this?’ Crane asked. ‘You speak as if we were brought here for this very purpose.’

  ‘Believe me, Jacob. This is the safest place for you to be … for the time being. All I can say is that Salamander Street will grow upon you. It will become like a haven of rest. Wait with me three days and all will be made clear. Stay in Salamander Street and you will find your friend and you, Jacob, will be on your ship again.’

  Galphus turned to Thomas and held out his hand. ‘I see you’re the son of a fisherman. How would you like to make shoes? I could teach you myself this very day. You could be my apprentice. Jacob and Kate can take old Mister Pallium back to count his money and you and I can make shoes. Whatever you make you can keep. How does that sound?’

  Thomas nodded, his mouth filled with food. ‘Can I go?’ he asked Crane as he swallowed quickly.

  Crane smiled and gestured for him to go. ‘Go and make some sea-boots. If Galphus is right then we will soon be sailing again.’

  Then Galphus got to his feet. Kate hadn’t noticed before how tall the man was. As he stood, he seemed to tower above them. Crane stood with him and held out his hand.

  ‘Come, come, Thomas,’ Galphus said slowly as he made to walk to the door. Then he stopped and turned. ‘I’ll bring him back tonight. We can talk again, Jacob. Perhaps I can help you free your ship.’

  With that Galphus stepped from the Salamander Inn and disappeared into the street with Thomas following like an obedient dog. Kate shrugged to herself, not wanting Crane to see her anger at being left behind.

  ‘Do you believe him?’ she asked Crane.

  ‘Of course he believes him,’ said the silent Mister Pallium as if suddenly stirred from a trance. ‘That is Galphus you speak of. Didn’t he amaze you with what he knows of your lives?’ he asked querulously.

  ‘We’ve seen much in the past days. Enough to last a lifetime, Pallium. It’s only right she should ask,’ Crane replied.

  ‘But it’s Galphus. He’s a seer and knows the future. The man has the finest leather factory in London – some say he has a thousand silver guineas. Imagine all that wealth, and he ate with us.’

  ‘Can’t you see, he’s so much like Rueben Wayfoot in every way,’ Kate said, remembering the time at Boggle Mill. ‘He talks the same, looks the same. It’s as if Rueben were here amongst us.’

  ‘Whoever Rueben is, he must be a fine fellow,’ Pallium chuntered as he nodded his head fretfully. ‘Let the man be, Jacob. By his fruit is a man known.’

  ‘Exactly, by his fruit. I feel as if we stand on the verge of winter and there has been no harvest and a thorn tree cannot bear a fig.’

  The Rocks of Galilee

  WITHIN the minute they were all on the road and walking with the carriage as it began to descend the steep and winding hill. The bugler walked ahead, his faithful hounds packed close to his feet. The hairs on their backs stood bristled and each bared its teeth and uttered a low growl. The man carried his blunderbuss at the ready as he looked about him. To the east, the sky rumbled with the approach of a storm that flashed against the dark sky.

  The travellers huddled together, jostling to be inside the group, not one of them wanting to be on the outer edge. All was quiet, except for the distant rumbling of thunder and the growl of the dogs. The madman could not be heard amongst the rocks, and as they walked a sense that the danger had passed came to them.

  Bragg sighed, out of breath and with a sense of relief. Behind him, Mister Shrume scurried on like a little mouse, his legs at a trot to keep pace. It was Raphah and Beadle who had been pushed to the back of the gathering. They walked on, Beadle constantly looking over his shoulder with every distant peel of thunder.

  ‘How far do we keep this up?’ puffed Bragg discontentedly. ‘The hill can’t go on forever and I paid to be carried, not to walk.’

  ‘Just a mile, sir,’ muttered the coachman, pulling the brake even tighter as the carriage pressed hard against the horses.

  They quickly descended into what was a vast open cavern with steep sides, littered with dark, jagged boulders. Pigs grazed on the sparse grass between the rocks. They were silent, their small sharp eyes reflected in the light from the carriage lamps.

  ‘In daylight, it is said that you can see for miles from this place,’ Ergott advised the gathering as they walked. His hand gripped the wand that he kept within his coat.

  ‘I prefer the inside of a hostelry, with a warm fire and hot food,’ Bragg snapped.

  ‘Then you better keep walking or else we shall never see such a place again,’ said Barghast, his long cloak flapping like a bat’s wing.

  For a while the road became steeper. The
horses slipped their footings and the carriage rocked back and forth. The light of the carriage gave a meagre glow that surrounded the travellers. Not one would step away from the glow of its paltry flame. Like moths they were drawn closer to it step by step, as if it would provide them with some protection. Outside the rim of its defence, the blackness was so intense that the travellers could not see a hand’s breadth in front of their faces.

  ‘We’re like sheep,’ Beadle said as they shuffled even closer together, as if herded by an unseen shepherd. ‘Ready for slaughter.’

  ‘The hounds say we are alone. They show no fear,’ the bugler said as he cocked the blunderbuss.

  ‘They’re dogs, what do they know?’ Bragg argued again.

  ‘They can see and hear that which we cannot,’ he replied. Suddenly one of his beasts began to growl.

  ‘My guts tell me different, my guts …’ Beadle said. His guts were rumbling and gurgling like a sewer.

  ‘I think we are all aware of what your guts are telling us, Beadle,’ Barghast said as he made a loud snort.

  From the outer darkness came the babbling cry of a young child. The company gathered closer to the carriage as it squawked and squealed with every turn of its wheels. Beneath their feet, the road fell away steeply. The coachman held the brake tightly until it smoked against the rim. The cry came again, high and shrill, this time from the far side of the valley. The hounds growled and jumped about their feet. They pressed in against their human companions to form a frightened pack.

  ‘There’s someone out there,’ Beadle said as they walked slowly on.

  ‘Not for long,’ said the bugler as he aimed the blunderbuss into the darkness.

  The screaming came again. It echoed around the walls of the valley and upwards to the thunderous sky. A blanket of lightning flashed from horizon to horizon. In amongst the rocks the shadow of a gigantic man was silhouetted against the stones.

  Quickly, without taking aim, the bugler fired his gun. The shot rang out just as the storm began to explode upon the moors. Falling to his knees, he reloaded the weapon.