by Val Wood
‘Do you need some help? There’s a lot of trouble tonight.’
They seemed friendly enough, decently dressed in dark clothes, probably just pals out for a drink after work.
‘I’m going back to my ship. I can manage.’ But could he? His legs didn’t seem to belong to him; as he took a step his knees buckled and he stumbled.
One of the men took him by the arm, his grip was firm. ‘We’re going that way ourselves, sailor. We’ll walk along with you.’
Another man came to the other side of him and took his other arm and they marched him out of the George yard.
He became alarmed and resisted. ‘Let go!’ he demanded. ‘I’ll find my own way.’
‘We’re taking you, in the King’s name, sailor, so don’t struggle. There’s a pistol in my hand and I’ll use it.’
The press-men had him! He groaned. Through his own stupidity, he had let slip his caution. Caution which a seaman should never abandon, for they were wanted by the navy more than any other able-bodied man with their knowledge of the sea and ships.
They hustled him around the corner and in the darkness of an alley clapped an iron on his wrists and led him away towards the docks and the naval ships.
‘Stop in the King’s name!’
The cry rang out as Matt and other pressed men were being hustled towards the docks. He had spent the night in a locked room along with a motley assortment of other men, most of them the worse for drink, waiting the turn of the tide. Matt had spent most of the time battering on the door demanding to speak to the authorities, until the other men had turned nasty and made him stop.
‘Stop! In the King’s name, I arrest this man.’ Roxton, the customs official put out his arm to halt the naval lieutenant who was escorting Matt.
‘In the King’s name he’s mine.’ The officer pushed Roxton away. ‘I have his papers. Look, he’s volunteered to serve in the navy.’
‘I did not!’ Matt made to grab the paper but the lieutenant snatched it away.
‘It has your name on it, Captain Linton, and your signature, therefore you’ve volunteered.’
‘I have a warrant for his arrest. A seizure of contraband was made on his ship.’ Roxton turned to Matt. ‘I arrest you on a charge of smuggling goods on which duty was not paid.’ He raised an arm to summon a cavalry sergeant who dismounted and stood at his side.
‘The devil you will, Roxton.’ Matt raised his voice in anger. ‘My ship was clean. There was nothing on board that wasn’t paid for.’
Roxton sneered. ‘I knew I’d get you sooner or later, Linton. You or your brother, it didn’t matter which.’ He drew out a list from his pocket. ‘Two half ankers of brandy, one of geneva and one cask of tobacco. We’ve seized your ship and the men on board her.’
Matt made to attack him, but was restrained by the soldier. ‘You’ve planted that,’ he snarled. ‘I wouldn’t keep such a miserable amount on board. You took it on board with you!’
‘Are you accusing me of connivance, Linton? That’s a serious charge against an officer of customs!’
Matt rubbed his beard. Roxton had been known as a man who wouldn’t take a bribe or get up to dirty tricks. Strange that he should fall now.
Roxton stared hard at Matt as he made no answer. ‘Bring him along sergeant.’
‘Whoa! One minute if you please.’ The naval lieutenant stopped the sergeant. ‘I said this man is mine. I got to him first therefore I have first claim on him.’
‘Then I shall send for the magistrate and he can convince you.’ Roxton glared at the officer. ‘I’ll not leave without him. He’s going to gaol – and not before time.’
‘He’s going to sea, where he belongs.’ The officer stood his ground.
‘Well, gentlemen, until you’ve decided my fate, you won’t mind if I sit down?’ Matt dropped to the ground by the harbourside and crossed his legs as if to make himself comfortable, and the men behind him grinned and did the same.
‘We’re going to have some sport, captain, by the look of it.’
Matt turned on his haunches at the familiar voice behind him. ‘Master Parson! So they caught you too?’
‘Aye, sir. Just coming out of the inn and there they were waiting, like rats in a pack they were. Bosun got away though, they couldn’t catch him.’
‘They’ll let you off, Parson White.’ Matt dropped his voice. ‘Tell them your sight is poor, I’ll vouch for it – walk into something!’
‘Aye, sir. I would, but what’ll I do without a ship to sail in? The Breeze has been captured and the crew that were left on board.’ He eased nearer towards Matt, elbowing the other men out of the way. ‘If you go with the navy, I’d just as soon go with you.’
Matt was touched by the man’s loyalty and patted him on the shoulder. ‘If we don’t go with the navy, it seems we go to gaol, and of the two I’d rather do the former. That’ll spike Roxton’s guns. But what I don’t understand,’ he mused, fingering the ring in his ear, ‘is, if he didn’t put the goods on board, then who the devil did?’
Parson White blinked his eye and cleared his throat, ‘Erm, begging your pardon, captain—’
Matt stared as the man’s face took on a hangdog expression. ‘Master Parson! You didn’t? Did you?’
32
Dusk was falling as the coach carrying Annie and Henry, along with three other passengers, clattered through the periphery of Hull. Though it was only a few short years since she had lived there, she was amazed at the change. Where once had been green meadows outside the town, there were long streets of elegant houses, and in the town itself as the coach drew towards the Market Place, changes had been made. Gone was the old gaol and guardhouse; finished and consecrated was the new St John’s church. Old buildings had been demolished, and flagstones laid in the new streets instead of cobbles.
Yet still there were signs of poverty; children were still begging in the streets and the haggard faces of the poor showed their desperate situation as they milled around the Market Place. She felt, as she descended from the coach that there was an undercurrent of discontent waiting to flare.
She hid a wry smile as she entered the Cross Keys Inn where a room had been booked. How often she had been in here, but not dressed as she was now in her travelling habit of grey beneath her much loved black woollen cloak, a white lawn shirt and leather laced boots. Nor did she then wear a tall beaver hat as she did today. Then, she had worn whatever cast-offs she could beg and dressed them up with feathers and bits of lace, for she had always hankered for finery.
The landlord greeted the passengers who were staying overnight and she wondered if he would recognize her, for she had once been a regular customer along with Francis Morton.
But he didn’t. He wiped his fingers on his apron and greeted her courteously and called for the maid to show her to her room.
If tha’s taking a walk to stretch tha legs, ma’am, take care.’ He called to her as she mounted the stairs. ‘There’s an ugly mood in ’town.’
‘What’s happening?’
‘Oh, usual complaint, ma’am,’ he said cynically. ‘Folks complaining that they’re starving – no money to buy food – but nowt for thee to worry about. Just keep away from ’crowds if tha goes out and keep hold of bairn’s hand; press-men are in town and there might be trouble. Nobody likes them.’
They took a short walk down to the Market Place, Annie wanted to show Henry the gold statue of King William III, or King Billy as the townspeople called him, as he sat on his horse in the middle of the road, but there were pockets of people standing around who were shouting abuse at a company of soldiers who were riding past and they couldn’t get near. Two men were fighting round a street corner and while some others kept watch for the law, another group shouted encouragement at the participants.
Annie smiled a wide smile and Henry looked up and asked. ‘Why you laugh, Mamma?’
She squeezeed his hand. ‘I’m laughing to think that some things never change, Henry. Come, we’ll go back for supper a
nd an early night, then tomorrow I’ll take you to see the big ships in the dock before we ride to Hessle.’
The landlord sent supper up to their room. ‘Too noisy downstairs, ma’am. Two whaling ships came in today and ’men are celebrating. Things might get out of hand. Best stay in tha room.’
She was tempted to question him on the names of the ships and the company who owned them, but on second thoughts decided against it. No sense in arousing his suspicions, she thought, and later as she lay in her bed with a sleeping Henry at her side, wondered if any jolt of memory might remind the landlord of who she was, or remember her bullying husband who’d died in the Arctic, or even worse, recall the death of Francis Morton.
For they must have found him, she thought, even though the mud was deep. They’d find him with the knife embedded in his chest. She sat up in the bed, her hand over her mouth. She’d never felt remorse for what she had done and yet, now she was back in the town where it had happened, in the very streets where she had roamed barefoot to save her boots, searching for cheap food to feed her children, she felt something like penitence.
‘I’m sorry, Francis, if tha’s listening anywhere.’ She whispered in the darkness and watched wide-eyed as the candle flame flickered in a draught and sent quivering shadows across the ceiling. Outside the inn she could hear shouting and the sound of breaking glass. ‘I know that what I did was wicked, but you were more wicked than me. Tha was going to hurt my bairn, my poor Lizzie.’
She looked down at Henry and moved a strand of fair hair from across his chubby pink cheek and knew in her heart that if anyone should attempt to hurt this child then she would do the same again.
Sleep deserted her and she slipped out of bed and looked out of the window. Outside the inn an affray had broken out between gangs of men. They were shouting and cursing and in the scuffle she saw the flash of a drawn cutlass and the raising of cudgels. She closed the shutters to muffle the noise and climbed back into bed and stared with sleepless eyes into the darkness.
In the hour before dawn she got up once more and looked down at the now quiet street. The only movement was from the muffled and bent figures of the night-soil-men with their odorous baskets, which as she watched they shouldered into the carts on their way to the muckgarths outside the town.
The next morning she woke heavy-eyed and could have slept on but Henry was awake and anxious to be off to see the ships.
‘There was trouble last night all right.’ The landlord served them first with gruel, then brought a platter of ham and boiled fowl and sausages, and a seperate plate of eggs made into an omelette. ‘Will tha have ale to drink, ma’am, or milk?’
‘I prefer to take tea – or chocolate.’ She smiled, revelling in being able to use the phrase which Toby had taught her. ‘And milk for the child.’
‘Aye, a heap of trouble,’ he gossiped. ‘It’s a wonder ’noise didn’t keep thee awake. Press-men were outside waiting to catch ’seamen. There were a few fights I can tell thee and plenty of clearing up to do this morning.’
As they went outside she saw the results of the disorderly and violent night. Market stalls had been overturned and produce trampled on. A wooden cart had been set on fire and was black and smouldering, whilst nearby a lone donkey munched from a basket of carrots. Glass and bricks littered the street and amongst the rubbish, women with torn and tattered clothing and children by their sides, poked about looking for something to eat or sell. Lying in the road in a sticky brown pool, the overflow from a brimming muck cart, was the still form of a man, either drunk or dead, and by his side a dead cat.
‘Aye,’ Annie stood in the inn doorway holding Henry’s hand, and surveyed the scene. ‘Nothing changes.’
She wanted to get away, to sit astride the horse she had hired, with Henry in front of her and ride away from this town and its memories. But she had promised him that he could see the ships in the dock, and from first rising he had constantly asked when would they go.
There were a great number of soldiers about, both the regular troopers, cavalry and infantry, and the militia, and they were all heading in the same direction, towards the dock. The New Dock, built to replace the Old Harbour and which was always crowded with shipping from every corner of the world.
Lines of men were being marched towards the dock, some holding their heads as if they were in pain, others openly weeping and she guessed that these were the pressed men, on their way to join the naval ships. Women were running by their sides, some crying, others clinging to the naval officers’ coats, imploring them to let their men free.
‘Excuse me. Can we come through.’ She elbowed her way through the crowd. ‘We want to see the ships.’
‘I shouldn’t go over there, miss – ma’am. There’s too great a crush. Are you looking for somebody.’ A young naval lieutenant spoke to her.
‘I promised my son he could see the ships, but we can’t get near.’
‘Like ships do you, young man?’ The officer bent down to Henry and ruffled his hair. ‘Perhaps you’ll join the King’s navy when you’re big enough?’
‘Not if I can help it,’ Annie’s rejoinder came swiftly though she smiled amiably enough. ‘I’ll not have my son sailing to a watery grave.’ Then she shivered as the words were out, as if in premonition.
‘If you come with me, I’ll find you a space.’ He made a way through the crowd, still talking to Henry. ‘You’ll be able to see from over here, there are whalers and schooners, cutters and sloops, every kind of ship from all over the world.’
He found them a space near a group of men who were sitting on the ground near the edge of the dock. ‘Don’t go too near the edge.’ He smiled at Henry. ‘He’s a fine boy, ma’am. I have two of my own. I haven’t seen them for two years. I can hardly remember what they look like.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Annie began, but he saluted her and turned away.
There was a gusty wind blowing and Annie took off her hat for fear of losing it in the water. She pointed towards the dock. ‘Look, there’s a whaling ship, Henry. See how well the hull is built? That’s because it has to break through the ice. And those small boats hanging at the side are what the men use to row out from the ship to capture the whale.’
‘These men here?’ Henry turned to look at the men sitting near them. ‘Are they going to row out and catch the whale?’
There was general laughter and one man answered. ‘No, son. We’re going to row out and capture the enemy, whoever that might be.’
Annie turned away from the sight of the ships and smiled sympathetically. She felt sorry for these men. They may well have had regular work and a home and family, but now they were in the hands of the navy, whether they liked it or not.
From the corner of her eye she saw a fair-haired man rise slowly to his feet and stare in her direction. ‘Here you!’ A soldier called to him. ‘Sit down.’
She turned to face the man as ignoring the command he strode over the men sitting on the ground, and came towards her.
It was as if the world stood still. As if time had taken a deep breath and was suspended. They both gazed, one at the other and didn’t speak. Then a veil of uncertainty showed in his eyes, to be replaced immediately by a flash of tempestuous fire.
‘So, Mrs Hope. We meet once more.’ His voice was cold though it trembled.
Oh, Matt! He’s hurt, she thought and felt hot tears gathering behind her eyelids. And he’s angry with me, just like he used to be. He doesn’t want to show that he once cared.
‘Indeed we do, Captain Linton,’ she answered softly.
Matt gave a harsh laugh. ‘Not Captain Linton any more, I fear. Just a common sailor in the navy.’
‘You’ve been pressed!’ Distress made her raise her voice. ‘Oh, no.’
‘Thank you for your sympathy, but it’s of no matter. One ship is very like any other.’ He continued to gaze at her and she wanted to put out her arms and hold him close to her.
‘That isn’t true. I know how you feel about the Br
eeze. It’s what you most care about.’
‘Is that what you think?’ he asked in a bitter tone. ‘You think I care only for tree trunks and sailcloth?’ He gave a wry laugh which twisted his mouth but didn’t reach his eyes. ‘How little you know of me.’
She fell silent and hung her head. Perhaps then she had made a mistake, one that she would pay for forever. And now it was too late.
Henry had crouched down on his haunches and was playing at throwing pebbles with one of the men in the crowd, and she put out her hand to draw him towards her.
Matt drew in a sudden intake of breath as she stood the boy beside her.
‘This is my son, Matt.’ She saw his eyes glisten and the tears held back in her own eyes, spilled over.
He bent down and smiled at the boy and shook him by the hand. Then he ran his hand over his Henry’s head and stood up, keeping his hand on his shoulder.
‘And mine too, I think.’
She took a step towards him and he put out his arms and wrapped her within them. She felt the strength of them around her and started to sob. She had never thought to hold him again, to feel the softness of his fair beard against her face, to smell the sea in his hair.
He kissed her. A tender loving kiss which told her all she wanted to know, and from somewhere in the background, she could hear the cheers of men around them and felt Henry pulling on her skirt.
‘Come on now. Break it up. Break it up!’ A soldier on guard came towards them.
‘This is my guard,’ Matt said and kissed her wet cheeks. ‘He’s afraid I’ll run away before Roxton gets back.’
‘Roxton?’ she breathed. ‘What has he to do with this?’
Matt laughed. All signs of strain had gone from his face and he looked quite merry. He kept his arm around her.
‘The Customs and the navy are fighting over who should have me, we’re waiting for the magistrate to get out of bed and decide for them. And in the meantime, this poor fellow has charge of me, me and this blackguard of a parson who insists on staying with me.’