The Wrecking Storm

by Ward, Michael

  Dirck arrived and was shown his target. A grim smile came over his face as he approached the window, a cobble in each hand. Leaning out, he unleashed a stone into the gloom below. It hit one of the timbers, as did the second. ‘I am getting my aim’, Dirck said. ‘The next two are for Jan’, and leaning forward he hurled a third stone. There was a cry below and a flurry of movement followed by an agonised scream when the fourth cobble also found its mark.’

  A voice cried out: ‘Clem! Clem! Let him have it. He’s killing us!’ as Dirck turned towards the window again, re-armed with stones.

  ‘No Dirck!’ Tom shouted and threw himself at the Dutchman, pushing him to the floor. At the same moment there was a sharp crack on the stone window frame and a shower of dust.’

  ‘They’ve got a musket,’ Petty warned. ‘Step back from the windows. Put out the lanterns! We will have to work by candlelight and not show ourselves. It will make…’

  ‘Tom, Tom,’ Barty was running down the stairs calling softly.

  ‘Keep down! What is it?’

  ‘It’s begun as Robert described. There are four of them prowling around the back door like wharf rats. Henry is preparing our welcome.’

  He left Petty and Dirck to continue their bombardment and followed Barty to the pepper store. He nodded at Tulloch and Andrew as he approached the open loading bay. Peering over the edge, he could see four shadowy figures working silently below. Two disappeared down the side alley and returned minutes later, whispering something to the others, pointing towards the alley and shaking their heads.

  Tom waited. He wanted them grouped together by the back door before taking action. Tulloch and Andrew now had six bags propped up next to the loading bay, waiting for his signal. Each sack carried a heavy load of wet sand and shingle from the shoreline. He checked again and heard grunting below as the men started pushing at the back door.

  He stepped back and nodded to Tulloch. The bosun grabbed a sack and launched it over the edge of the loading hatch. There was barely time to hear the crash before Andrew followed with a second. In his eagerness, he forgot to let go. Tom grabbed him just before he disappeared through the loading bay with the sack.

  Henry and Andrew didn’t let up until all six bags had reached their target. Hearing low moans from below, they peeped over the edge to see two men helping a third limp back to their boat. A fourth was following, holding his head.

  He slapped Tulloch and Andrew on the back. ‘Well done, men,’ he whispered. ‘So far, so good. Stay alert.’

  As he left the pepper store, he counted another eight sacks ready for use. They had decided to make the first bombardment as terrifying as possible. He now prayed they had enough in reserve, in case the gang came back for another attempt.

  He ran down to the first floor and gave Petty a nod. ‘Have they retreated up the ginnel, Robert?’

  ‘The two at the front? Yes. One had to be supported by the other. They’ll be reporting back to the gang leader.’

  ‘And soon he’ll find his sea borne assault’s been repelled,’ Tom grinned. ‘A heavy broadside from Andrew and Henry Tulloch was enough to sink ‘em!’

  ‘I hate to spoil the good news, Master, but I think you should see this.’ Sam was crouching by one of the windows. He moved aside allowing Tom to peer to his right over the window ledge. ‘Quickly, fetch my father’ he told Sam.

  Ralph arrived and spent several minutes by the window studying the stable roof which was now well alight, flames licking up the side of the warehouse. He was careful not to put himself on show. They still did not know the whereabouts of the man with the musket.

  He turned to Tom. ‘People said I was mad when I used stone from the old monastery at Bolton Hall to rebuild the warehouse. It took two years, carting it from Clerkenwell and cutting it at the docks, but now I thank God I did. That wall will hold and give us time. The roof, however, is another matter. It is much higher than the stables, and we’ve had such a wet December. The tiles and beams will be well doused by the recent rain and now this snow, but it will not last forever. But remember, they can’t afford to burn us out. They want the map intact.’

  Chapter 30

  Tallant warehouse

  There was a lull after the first attack and the defenders took the opportunity to get a mouthful of food and drink. Their respite was brief.

  ‘We have more visitors on the wharf,’ Barty reported. Tom ran to the Pepper Store and saw four shadowy figures scouting the rear of the building. They were avoiding the back door, which was surrounded by sacks, their split sides spilling wet sand and stones across the wharf. One of the men went down the side alley and returned minutes later, walking past the other three back to their boat, disappearing into the gloom.

  ‘What are they up to this time?’ he murmured to himself. ‘Henry and Andrew, get another four sacks ready.’ Once those had gone, only four bags would remain, enough for one final salvo. This next attack must be repulsed forcefully. The men below seemed to be waiting but finally approached the back door. Two of them tried to move the sacks on the floor to one side while the other stood back watching the loading bay above.

  ‘Get ready,’ he whispered to the others. Henry Tulloch picked up a sack and dragged it to the edge of the opening. Tom saw the guard below look down and move towards the other men. ‘Now Henry!’ he whispered hoarsely .

  Henry dragged the sack into the opening. There was a noise and the bosun recoiled with a cry and let go of his load, which tumbled out of the bay, missing its target. Tom scrambled towards the injured man, who was writhing on the floor.

  ‘They’ve shot me, those whoresons, in the shoulder…left shoulder. Jesu, it hurts.’

  Tom took a handkerchief from his pocket. ‘Press this against the wound. We’ll move you somewhere safe in a minute.’ He turned to Andrew. ‘They must have transferred the musket from the front to the back, over the alley barricade, unless they’ve got two. Come on, we’ve got to continue while they’re reloading.’

  Andrew didn’t move. He was staring at Tulloch with his mouth open. ‘Andrew!’ Tom shouted. ‘Help me, come on!’ and he seized a bag and, glancing below, launched it over the edge. The young groom was now at his side, next sack in hand. He grabbed it and, in one movement, hauled it through the gap to the ground below. There was a satisfying howl of pain. One sack left. Did he have time before the musket was ready to fire again? Only one way to find out, and, keeping as far back as he could he flung the heavy sack with his remaining strength.

  He heard a whistle as a musket ball flashed past his face and the thud as it hit the roof beam behind him. Tom flung himself to the floor. He saw his final sack was teetering on the edge of the open hatchway. With a smile he stood, retrieved the bag and dragged it to the lip of the hatch. Unhurried, he surveyed the scene below. All three men were at the entrance, hammering and pushing at the door.

  Tom hesitated. He was seconds from possibly killing a man. Then he thought of Jan, casually knifed in the side, and that he too would now be dead if the musket shot had been two inches closer. He pushed his doubts to one side, took deliberate aim and carefully dropped the full weight of the sack on to the nearest figure. The man crumpled to the ground without a sound, sending the other two running back to their boat. Would that make the raiders give up? His hopes rose as the minutes passed. Then, with relief, he saw the fallen figure on the wharf stirring. In his heart, he knew he wasn’t a killer. Reassured, he was about to get help for Henry when a movement caught his eye. The two men were charging out of the gloom towards the warehouse as fast as possible, followed closely by a third.

  His heart sank. ‘They’re determined to get past us, and we’ve only four sacks left. We are running out of ammunition and they have all night to get through.’ The thought overwhelmed him. He turned to Andrew. ‘You better move Henry to my bed. Get Barty to help you. I’ll do what I can to keep our friends below at bay.’ Tom suddenly wished Elizabeth was there to help him. He badly needed her calm confidence and quick thinking. S
he’d know how to get out of this mess.

  Andrew didn’t move. He was staring through the hatch, pointing. ‘M...master. Look!’

  ‘Yes, I know. They’re attacking again. We need to find Henry somewhere safer, so get a move on.’

  ‘No, master. Look!’ and he grabbed his shoulder and pointed.

  Tom peered into the gloom and caught his breath. Another seven men had appeared out of the dark, following the three who had now reached the warehouse. Two of the seven were holding flaming torches while their leader was striding purposefully forward, swinging a wooden post in large, strong hands, and rolling his massive shoulders.

  He knew the game was up. Once they ran out of sacks, this group would make short work of the rear door. Then, all that remained would be the make-shift barricade on the other side. In a matter of minutes, they would be inside and raising hell. With a heavy heart, he realised they would have to surrender, if they were allowed to.

  He was about to run downstairs but something about the leader made him stop. He inched closer to the entrance to get a better look and was astonished to see the man approach one of the gang and fell him with a single blow of his wooden cudgel. He glanced up at Tom, grinned and put his thumb up.

  ‘Jonah!’ he cried out. ‘It’s Jonah Dibdin! By all the saints! What’s he doing here?’

  Jonah ignored him and turned to the pair of remaining attackers. ‘Right. As I see it, you two have a choice, which is a rare thing in my world, so make the most of it. Either you leave here now and not return, and tell your other friends likewise. Or you can be a brave pair of bullies and try your luck against the seven of us. So, what’s it to be?’

  The two men exchanged glances and their shoulders dropped. They put their hands up. One spoke up. ‘But how can we leave? You’ve stolen our boats.’

  ‘And my musket,’ added the other.

  ‘It’s not too far to swim,’ Jonah said. ‘Once you’re in the river, head for the bridge. You’ll pass some landing steps on the way. But I wouldn’t hang about. More than ten minutes in the drink in December will finish you off.’

  The first man pointed at the two members of the gang felled by Tom’s sack of sand and Jonah’s cudgel. Both were now sitting up but still groggy.

  ‘Leave them. They’ve nowhere to go, so I’m sure Master Tallant above will make them very welcome when your little party is over. So, off you go boys. Enjoy your dip.’

  ‘But I cannot swim!’ one of them said.

  Jonah sidled up to the man and pushed the end of the cudgel into his chest before leaning into his face. ‘I’ll let you into a little secret, my son. Neither can I.’ Jonah laughed and turned to the boatmen. ‘Get rid. I can’t stand the sight of them,’ and the two men were grabbed by the arms and marched off towards the quay, protesting loudly.

  Jonah finally turned to look up at Tom who had witnessed the whole scene. ‘Well, this is a fine pickle, even for you, if I may say so. Mind you, the whole of London is going to hell in a handcart tonight, without the plague. The city is doing itself in, all on its own, quite nicely.’

  ‘The streets are in disorder?’

  ‘Everywhere. It’s Bedlam.’

  ‘But why are you here, Jonah?’

  There was a shout of alarm from the wharf and then several loud splashes. Jonah didn’t react.

  ‘As I told you the other day, I have no truck with either side in all this trouble. I take the fare and keep my mouth shut. But it’s plain to me that a lot of people are using the current rumble for their own profit, and that brings misery on us all. And when they step into my backyard to play their games, I won’t have it.

  ‘And my friends here, we all feel the same, don’t we boys?’ There was a murmur of agreement among the other boatmen who were wearing their distinctive red jerkins carrying the badge of the watermen. They look like an army, Tom thought.

  ‘So tonight we decided to patrol the north shore in our wherries. Then we heard that churl, now trying to stay afloat in the river, firing off his musket, so we came to have a looksee. When I saw it was your warehouse I thought ‘well, I better save this fare – he’s too good a tipper’ and so here we are. Easy as wink to sneak up on the shooter and grab him. The rest you saw.’

  Once again, Tom felt his hopes rise. Seven more handy men on their side could tip the balance. ‘I can’t thank you enough for rescuing us Jonah, as we’re under attack at the front of the warehouse as well.’

  ‘Before you start getting ideas, I don’t know what your fight is with these folk,’ pointing at the two still sitting on the floor, ‘or any of their friends, and I don’t want to.

  ‘I have a living to make on this river and a reputation to keep. If I kept wading into people’s disputes, taking sides, I’d be out of business before I knew it. I’ll always defend the river, like tonight. Always. But I can’t take on your trouble. I’ll guard your back door if you like. No-one else sets foot on this wharf tonight, I promise you that. So you’ll have a way out if things get too tasty. But don’t ask for more.’

  Tom felt disappointment, but securing one of their two fighting fronts would help greatly.

  ‘Jonah. I understand your position and thank you again.’

  ‘Anyway, what you need is to get at this gang from the rear, from Thames Street. And that’s not happening. Not by us or anyone else. They’ve got the street stitched up tight.’

  He waved to Jonah and returned to the ground floor. There had been no further attacks at the front of the warehouse.

  Chapter 31

  Tallant warehouse

  His father was astonished. ‘Jonah Dibdin? Our saviour? I don’t believe it!’

  ‘He says he’s defending the river, father, and I know what he means. He ferried Elizabeth and I last week and was deeply troubled by the current turmoil. He sees his London, his way of life, slipping from him.’

  ‘Well, whatever his reasons, I’m grateful for his intervention and will tip him more generously in future, if we ever get out of this mess. I think we’ve given Tansy’s men, or whoever is behind this, a bloody nose and they have withdrawn to regroup. They’ll soon find our back door has been slammed shut for the night. That may change their thinking. Then again, they may decide to wait for the fire to do its work.’

  Tom looked through the window. The stable roof was well alight, flames climbing further up the stone warehouse wall. There was no sign of smoke yet from the roof above but the external timbers supporting the tiles were blackened. If they could just hold on until the stable burnt itself out, they’d have a chance. But if the warehouse roof started to catch, it could spread in minutes.

  Tom went to check on Henry Tulloch, lying on his bed, clutching his shoulder and sweating. Barty was sitting next to the bosun feeding him brandy from a glass.

  ‘Thank you, Sir, that is helping the pain,’ and leaning forward he took another swallow. Barty gently lowered Henry back on to his pillow, turned from the bed to stand close to Tom.

  ‘As you can imagine, I have no idea what I’m doing, other than keeping this poor man as comfortable as possible. I have made one medical examination however. Something I remember Elizabeth talking about a while back. I gently turned Mr. Tulloch onto his back and saw nothing.’

  ‘No exit wound?’

  ‘Quite. I am not sure if this constitutes good or bad news – Elizabeth didn’t tell me that, or perhaps I wasn’t listening – but I suspect it’s not good. Infection?’

  ‘Yes, eventually. But for now we’ve done what we can. Has the bleeding stopped?

  ‘Mainly, but the injury is clearly giving him a great deal of pain, hence my liberal doses of your brandy.’

  He squeezed Barty’s arm and said: ‘I can see he is in good hands. Do you…’

  His father’s voice broke in. ‘Tom. Tom. To the front, now!’

  He raced to join him and followed his gaze. ‘Keep an eye on the mouth of the ginnel. Watch. There! Can you see?’

  Ralph Tallant was famed among merchants for his sh
arp vision. He was still the first on board ship to spot a sail on the horizon, and he was right again. In the gloom, Tom saw someone scamper out of the ginnel on all fours and into a dark corner of the yard.

  ‘That’s the third by my reckoning. They’re building up numbers for a mass attack on the front. We can repel a handful of them, but if they gather in numbers out of sight and then come at us, throwing stones won’t be enough. We might wound a few but the others will pull down the barricade and then they’ll bring up the ram. While they hide in dark corners, we can’t reach them. Maybe we’ll need Dibdin’s back door after all,‘ he said gloomily, suddenly deflated.

  There was a cough behind them. Both turned to see Sam, holding in his hand a rocchetto. ‘Begging your pardons, sir, but perhaps Miss Elizabeth had just such a contingency in mind?’ In the frenzy of the fight, Tom had completely forgotten about her contribution to their defence. It was worth a try.

  ‘Quick. Pull the loading ramp up to the window and pass me a candle.’

  Sam scampered off and returned with the simple wooden mechanism Elizabeth had devised. Tom examined the two pieces of wood, nailed together to form a V-shape. They had been rubbed smooth to form a four foot long shallow channel for the rocket to travel along.

  Taking care not to be seen, he propped one end of the ramp on the edge of the open window and carefully took the first rocket from its basket and placed it on the other end. He sighted down the length of the ramp and pointed it towards the corner where the attackers were gathering. He watched his father for approval but Ralph simply shrugged his shoulders. Remaining at the end of the ramp that housed the rocket, he reached down and picked up the lit candle. He gently moved the flame towards the fuse. He could feel the sweat on his brow and the candle starting to tremble as he held the flame still closer.

  Sam grabbed his arm. ‘Stop, master! Stop!’ Tom jumped and dropped the candle on the floor.