She softened a moment. ‘I do understand William, and I’m very fond of you but I must think of my future.’
I was not giving up. ‘We can have a future. The Emperor will die soon, everyone knows that.’ Marie winced. ‘He is not your future. Look, can we make a deal? If I can find your son and bring him to you, would that be proof enough of my love?’
She seemed perplexed by my offer but finally agreed. ‘Very well William. If you can do that, then I will know you are a real man. A man as big as the Emperor. If you can get my Pierre back, I will give you my heart. But not before.’ At this point I could hear noise from the foyer above and footsteps on the stairs. I reached over and gently kissed her outstretched hand, then darted back into the lavatory. I could hear from within the cubicle Toulouse talking to Marie.
‘I am very a sorry for that my lady, we had some lascar idiot trying to steal the carriage. He has run off now. So, all is well. Are you ready to depart?’ She answered in the affirmative, and I could hear their footsteps going up the stairs. I was left alone with my thoughts. I waited a few minutes then slipped out. The carriage had now gone. I thanked Scarfe profusely for his help and walked out onto the high street.
I soon came upon a bloodied Asif. ‘Mr Reeves, why are you here? Why did she not want to go away with you?’
I sighed. ‘I really don’t know Asif; women can be strange creatures. Thanks for your help though, at least I got to speak to her. Now let us get back to the fort and get you cleaned up.’
Thirty
The Next Move
I was now back at the fort but utterly bereft. All my dreams were turning to ashes. I now had a stark choice – give up on Pierre and Marie, and go back to my old life, or carry on trying to achieve what felt like the impossible.
I spoke to Gordon about my quandary. He was transparent in his attitude, he felt that I should now cut my losses and forget about Marie and the lost boy. I racked my conscience – was my love for Marie causing me to lose my judgement? Finally, I concluded that on this occasion I would let my heart rule my head and try one more roll of the dice. I would take Asif to meet Jack Carter and confront him with the truth about his son. Maybe, just maybe, Jack might have some key information that he had withheld up to now.
So, that afternoon we walked up to his modest house near the top of Windmill Hill. For once Asif was a little nervous. I knocked on the door and waited. Finally, the grizzly old seaman appeared, there was no great smile of recognition or welcome on his face. He seemed to be wearing the same jumper as the last time I had seen him, despite the warm July weather.
‘What do you want?’ he snapped.
I smiled back. ‘Let me introduce my friend, Asif, who has been assisting me since I came to Gravesend.’
Asif reached out to shake Jack’s hand; the offer of the handshake was brushed aside. ‘I’m not shaking a lascar’s hand. What’s your business?’
‘Jack, we would just like to talk to you some more. We also could have some information that might be of interest to you.’
‘I’ve told you everything I know about that night when the French lad was supposed to have come ashore. Now leave me alone.’
I maintained an even tone of voice and continued, ‘It is not information from you we want. It is information we have, that might be of interest to you.’ I lowered the tone of my voice. ‘About the death of your boy, Tom.’
Jack’s expression dropped, like he had been slapped in the face. ‘How would you know anything about all that? Be off with you.’
‘Asif was on the same boat as your boy, ten years ago, on the spice run from India. He remembers his illness and death. I thought that might be of interest to you. Now, can we come in?’
Jack had now lost his granite-hard exterior – his dead son was clearly his Achilles heel. He looked visibly upset.
‘You had better come in then.’
We were ushered inside and sat down in his parlour as directed. Jack clearly had no time for pleasantries today, he was obviously upset that his son’s death had been mentioned at all.
‘Go on then, tell me what you know. And if this is a trick, there will be trouble.’
I looked at Asif, then back to Jack. ‘It is my friend here, Asif, who has the information which you may find of interest. Go ahead Asif.’
Though nervous, he cleared his throat and spoke well. ‘I was waiting for a boat to work on in Zanzibar. This was ten years ago. Captain Lynch arrived in port with the Spirit of Rochester, a fine ship. The captain grabbed any men interested in becoming crew and put us on board. He did not care if we knew what we were doing or got hurt. We work very hard. It was rush, rush, rush – get to London quickly. The sooner there, the bigger the profit. So, Captain Lynch was cutting all corners to get to England fast. It was my first voyage, so I remember everything that happened. The smell of the boat. The names of the crewmen and officers.’ He paused for a moment to get his breath. ‘I remember Mr Carter; he was a junior officer and was already in the sick bay when we sailed out of Zanzibar.’ Jack was having none of this.
‘Nonsense, it’s a fact that Tom was not ill till they put into Freetown, in Sierra Leone. That was in the coroner’s report, and the captain’s log.’
I could see this was going to hurt the old sea lag, but he needed to know. I took up the story.
‘I’m afraid Asif is telling the truth, as he saw it. I have been working with him for the last few weeks and know him to be an honest man worthy of total trust. Now Asif, continue with your story.’
‘Mr Carter was sick all the way around the African coast. I think it was malaria he had, though I did not know for sure as we were kept apart from the officers – who seemed upset at what was going on. I was told they pleaded with Captain Lynch to drop anchor in Cape Town to allow him to go into a hospital, but he insisted there was no time to lose and raced on. By the time we berthed at Freetown, it was too late, Mr Carter had died from malaria.’
Jack’s face dropped and there was a look of deep sadness, as if he were close to tears.
‘I’d like to be left alone,’ he said.
I nodded. ‘Of course, I understand. We will let ourselves out.’
We got up and respectfully made our way slowly back to the front door. Just as we got there, Carter turned back to us.
‘So that is what really happened? You’re telling me that if Lynch had not been so greedy, Tom could have been saved?’
Asif replied, ‘Yes, sir, that is my opinion.’
There were a few moments’ pause. Finally, Jack said; ‘Sit down you two. What can I do for you? If it gets Lynch locked up, I’ll help you in any way I can.’
We returned to the parlour and sat down again. I opened the conversation.
‘I am sorry to bring you that news, but we desperately need your help. We must find the French boy, and you are our last hope. Have you any idea, any thoughts as to what may have occurred? Is there any place he could be hidden in the town?’
Carter took out his pipe and lit it slowly with a long match. He inhaled deeply – though the tobacco had hardly taken. There was a long pause, I noticed the smell of the house, a mixture of mustiness and stale tobacco – finally he spoke. ‘I’ve been thinking about that as well, since I saw you. Something was playing on the back of my mind. Then I remembered. It is a long shot but maybe worth looking into. Tunnels. There are smugglers’ tunnels running from near the pier up into the town. They were used by smugglers right up to the 1830s. I went down them when I was a boy. They got blocked off when the smuggling ended, but they still might exist. That would be a good place to hide someone. Not very pleasant though.’
I almost gasped in excitement; this could be the breakthrough we needed. ‘Have you any more information on the exact location of these tunnels?’
Carter held up his finger. ‘Give me a minute, I think I’ve got a map somewhere.’ He stood up and walked
over to his bureau. Although of modest dimensions, Jack’s house had good-quality furniture, with dark brown mahogany timber everywhere. Similar to the inside of a captain’s cabin. In fact, his furnishings might have well come from such a source. After much shuffling and searching, a double foolscap map appeared. He brought it out and spread it on the table.
‘Here we are, a street map of the riverside area, and as you can see I’ve drawn in pencil the approximate location of the tunnels.’
I studied the map in as much detail as I could understand. Jack could see my excitement so added some words of caution. ‘The map is old now, so some of these tunnels may have been filled in, others adapted to become sewers or what have you.’
I looked hard at the map; the details of the streets overlaid by the pencil markings of the tunnels. My eyes were drawn to the riverside area. ‘Look here.’ I pointed to the junction of the high street with Gravesend pier. It looked like there might be a tunnel running under the King’s Arms.
‘Is it possible that a tunnel might be connected to the beer cellar of the King’s Arms?’
Jack puffed his pipe and stroked his chin thoughtfully.
‘It is possible, but you cannot be sure, the map is over forty years old, anything could have happened since.’
I nodded. ‘I think I’ve seen enough to give it a try. I’ll need to get into the cellar and have a poke about of course, but it’s definitely worth a go.’ I held out my hand. ‘Thank you very much Mr Carter, and I’m sorry I had to bring you such news of your son.’
‘To be honest, I’m not surprised. Typical of Lynch to put the chance of profit before a man’s life. Promise me this though; if you get this French lad back, make sure you get Lynch sent down for his part in it. Can you do that?’
‘Yes, I’ll make sure of that. Thank you for your help.’
At that he did something I was not expecting, he held out his hand, inviting a handshake from Asif. My friend was obviously delighted. They shook hands. ‘Thank you for your candour Asif. I’m glad you knew of my boy.’
At that he returned to the parlour, leaving us to go out of the front door. Outside of the darkness of the house, the sunlight seemed even brighter than usual. I closed the door behind us and turned to Asif.
‘I think we are finally in with a chance now. Come on, let us get things organised.’
At that we walked down Windmill Hill back towards the fort. It was still a fine warm afternoon as we strode down the hill. We did not talk but I had now begun to realise how much I owed Asif; without his devotion and skill, I would be lost.
‘What are you going to do when your work at the fort ends?’
He seemed unperturbed by this. ‘I will find another ship, go back to sea. Find my way back home. Something will turn up.’
I smiled. ‘Indeed, who knows what tomorrow holds.’
At the bottom of the hill we passed the Customs office and at that point I heard the heavy hoofs of a pair of dray horses, behind us. I was glad to see it was Jessie Armitage on his delivery run. I shouted over to him. ‘Jessie, any chance of a quick word?’ He gently tugged at the reins and brought the pair to a stop, then jumped down.
‘What can I do for you Mr Reeves?’
I gestured for us to get out of earshot of his second man, so we walked away from his dray, and stopped under the shade of a London Plane tree.
‘Jessie, I wonder if you could do me a big favour?’
He listened attentively. ‘What would that be Mr Reeves?’
I said, ‘I need the key to the street cellar door for the King’s Arms. Can you get hold of it for me?’
Jessie looked a little concerned but obviously still wanted to help. ‘What would you be wanting that for?’
I gently pulled him closer to me so that I was almost speaking into his ear. ‘We believe that the French boy may be incarcerated in tunnels below the pub, which can only be reached from the beer cellar. If we can get in there tonight, we could have a rummage around and try and find that tunnel.’
Jessie looked genuinely concerned at this. ‘Begging your pardon sir but I’ve only just been allowed back onto the drays after the break-in at the brewery. I would not want to do anything that might come back on me.’
I was not happy at this but had to agree. ‘Very well Jessie. I understand how important your job is to you, but I am disappointed at your response.’
‘Thing is sir, I don’t know why Mr Gordon insisted I should turn a blind eye to your robbery in the first place. I am none the wiser. All I know is that you went into John Bennett’s office. I saw that out of the corner of my eye.’
I decided to tell all. ‘The truth is, Jessie, that we were just looking through Bennett’s files to make a link between Tommy Tibbalds’ keg business and the King’s Arms, we found that. We also found something more disturbing. I do not want to upset you, but I think you need to know what kind of man Bennett is. To put it bluntly, we found a file containing numerous photographs of young boys in stages of undress and in some cases… performing sexual acts.’
I stood stock still waiting for Jessie’s reaction. He was clearly mortified. ‘That dirty bastard! I’ll kill him!’
‘Let us leave that to the police. Taking out a personal vengeance will do no one any good.’
Jessie was still shaking with rage, so I continued. ‘We are fairly sure that Bennett and Lynch had some kind of sex ring involving boys. Once we have the full proof of that, they will reap the whirlwind, you have my word for that.’
Jessie was still red-faced and upset. He tried to speak but stumbled over his words. ‘You don’t think they used my boy like that do you?’ He looked imploring at me for an answer.
‘I’m sorry Jessie I just don’t know’.
We both stood in silence for a moment, then he turned to me. ‘About the key. That will be no problem. I will slip it in my pocket and bring it to you after my shift. Anything that helps put those bastards away.’
I looked at him with concern, I knew my words had crushed his world, but felt I had no choice. ‘Thank you Jessie.’
He seemed to calm down a little and spoke more purposefully. ‘I’ll do all I can to help you and get you that for key tonight. Shall I meet you by the river, in front of the Clarendon? I walk home that way after work. Say, five o’clock?’
I smiled. ‘That would be great Jessie, and if we succeed we will owe you a great deal.’ He was now getting over the shock.
‘If you get that boy back with his parents, it will help make up for me losing my George, and it will be one in the eye for Lynch and his scummy friends. I’ll see you later.’
At that he swiftly made his way back onto the high seat of the dray, said a few words to his second man, and grabbing the reins gingered the horses into life. Within seconds the heavy horses were trotting off down the street. One wave of his bowler hat and he was gone.
I turned to Asif. ‘It looks as if it is a runner tonight. Let us get back to the fort and prepare.’
Thirty-One
Riverside Sightings
Asif and I made our way down to the Clarendon’s riverfront just before 5 p.m. It had been a warm day, the river was like a millpond, seemingly unaffected by tides. Despite the lack of a breeze, more craft were coming upriver, mostly Thames barges, catching the meagre winds with their fully erect blood-red sails. I took in all these sights and smells. The Thames was probably the busiest commercial waterway in the world, but on a late afternoon like this, it seemed serene and untroubled.
I turned to Asif; he was the most engaging of companions. Nothing ever seemed to trouble or defeat him. He seemed to have an understanding of his own destiny which I envied. I spoke. ‘ Don’t you ever get homesick? This is a very foreign country to you after all.’
‘No sir, I can look at the sea before me and know it is the same sea that will take me back to my homeland one day. It will all c
ome to pass when the time is right.’
And that was that. We just stood there, taking in the warmth of the sun. Then I noticed Asif stir, like a hawk seeing its prey.
‘Look, sir.’ He pointed downriver at the bend of the Thames known as the Hope. My eyes were immediately drawn to what he had seen. A big sailing ship, coming up the estuary, just rounding Hope Point towed by a steam tug. It was an old square-rigged sailing ship, a china clipper, there was only one boat it could be. The Spirit of Rochester.
‘What is it doing back here Asif? I thought we’d seen the last of her for a long while.’
He shook his head. ‘I do not know.’
I thought back to the fiasco at the chalk pits; that had been ten days ago. ‘It must have got to Liverpool in good time, unloaded its flint for the potteries, and come straight back here.’
Asif looked bemused ‘Why would it be doing that?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know, maybe they are bringing a load down south to London. Perhaps earthenware from the potteries. Who knows?’
Asif look concerned.
‘Will it spoil our plans if he stops here?’
‘It will make no difference. If we strike at the cellar in the middle of the night, Lynch and his crew will be fast asleep.’ At that we relaxed and awaited the arrival of Jessie.
On the stroke of five he arrived. He was out of his dark green uniform livery. Now, he was just another man on the street. ‘Good evening Mr Reeves, I’ve got the key here.’
At that he surreptitiously took the key from his pocket and passed it to me. ‘Be careful with that and let me have it back before trouble breaks. Remember, I am doing this for the boy. Don’t take anything else from the cellar.’
I nodded in agreement. ‘Of course not. You have my word on that.’ At this point Jessie noticed Asif staring at the sailing ship creeping upriver and asked, ‘Is that the boat that was here before, Lynch’s ship, the Spirit of Rochester?
‘Indeed,’ I said.
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