by Renee Duke
“You’re going out now? It’s almost dark,” said Paige.
Hetty got to her feet. “Low tide comes when it comes. We don’t work when it’s pitch black, but it should be all right for a bit tonight. We’ll come back here after. Some people’s more generous coming out than going in, especially if the sermon happens to have been about Christian charity. You wanna come with us? I sees you got your own sack.”
“Er, yes. It’s just got some spare clothes in,” Paige told her truthfully.
At Blackfriars Bridge, the waters of the Thames had drawn back toward the middle of the river, leaving behind wet, slippery rocks interspersed with various types of refuse. Other mudlarks, most of them small children, were already at work picking up bones, bottles, rags, and anything else they thought they could sell. Older ones were farther out, some using sticks to poke about in the shallow water, others stooping and feeling around with their hands. Two old men and several old women were doing the same.
Sliding down the embankment, Hetty tossed their sack to Pip, who held it open while she scooped up a bottle, two buttons, some bones, and a foul-smelling scarf.
“Nothing much else here,” said Hetty, dropping her finds into the sack. “We’ll have to wade out a bit. Right under the bridge is usually best. Stuff gets caught there sometimes. You can stay here if you want, titch,” she added kindly, smiling at her little brother. “Our mates here can help me.”
“Nah, I’ll come.”
The others took off their boots and joined them. Stepping gingerly into the cold river, Paige judged the time of year to be early September, and was troubled by the thought of the mudlarks having to endure even more frigid water temperatures as winter came on.
Upon reaching the bridge, Hetty clung to one of the supports and felt about in the water with her toes.
“Not finding much,” she said.
“What about that?” asked Pip.
“What?”
“That,” he replied, pointing.
A brown satchel jutted out from the underside of the bridge.
“Oh, well spotted, titch. Give us a leg up, Dane.”
Inching her way up the support, Hetty finally got close enough to stretch out her hand, pull out the satchel, and tuck it under her shawl to keep it from getting splashed when she jumped down into the shallow water.
Back on the foreshore, she drew her prize out for inspection. “This should fetch a bit,” she said gleefully. “Wonder if it’s got anything good inside.”
Upon opening it, she found some loose papers held together with a horse shaped brass paper clip. Pip immediately pounced on that, but to his sister’s disappointment, the satchel’s only other contents were a dozen or so official looking letters, and what appeared to be more papers in a brown paper parcel tied up with string, all of which she promptly threw on the ground.
“Don’t do that!” Jack cried, snatching them up. “Those come from a solicitor’s office. They’re probably important. The solicitor’s sure to want them back.”
“How do you know where they comes from?”
“It says so.” He pointed to the letterhead on one of the papers still held by the clip Pip had appropriated. “‘Henshaw and Pemberley, Solicitors’. You can take it to them tomorrow. Their office appears to be in the Holborn area. Do you know where that is?”
“Over that-a-way. Dunno the actual street. T’nt somewhere we goes much, Holborn. Why don’t you come back to our doss for tonight? Come morning, we’ll all go find this solicitor bloke. We can divvy up any reward we gets.”
Paige saw the boys looking at her. Since she was the one who had balked at sharing the ragged pair’s accommodation last time, they were obviously going to leave this decision to her.
“Is this the same doss you had before?” she asked Hetty.
“Yeah.”
“How many rats does it have?”
“Nary a one. Dog sees to that. Guards the place, too, so your sack’ll be safe if you wants to leave it there while we’s out and about.”
“What about fleas?”
Hetty shook her head. “That’s part of what makes it such a good doss. Nellie can’t abide ’em. Got powders and such all over the place, including our shed.”
“In that case, we’ll be happy to.”
Chapter Seven
Back at St. Paul’s, the sermon had obviously not been about Christian charity. Hetty and Pip only netted two more farthings.
“No matter,” said Hetty. “I got a couple of ha’pennies earlier in the day, and Ike’ll likely give us a penny for the other stuff what we found tonight. That’ll be enough for Pip and me’s food and lodgings. How about you lot?”
Lest his father wonder what had happened to their silver threepennies, Jack bought food for himself and his cousins with money he had raided from his personal coin collection. As to lodgings, the kindly Nellie let them stay in her backyard shed with Hetty and Pip for just an extra penny.
It was, as Hetty had warned them before, a bit of a squash. Sleeping on a hard wooden floor with only rough sacks for covering wasn’t very comfortable either. By morning, rain was dripping down on the shed’s occupants through a hole in the roof.
Fortunately, the rain didn’t last. A mere drizzle was coming down as the children breakfasted on some apples Nellie’s husband gave them before leaving for work. By the time they set off for the solicitors’ office, the sky above was beginning to clear.
It was a long way. They chatted on various subjects as they walked along, with only Jack, and the quiet-by-nature Pip, failing to join in.
Jack remained unsociable until they entered a quiet cobbled square off one of the Holborn area’s busy streets.
“This the place?” Hetty asked, seeing him stop in front of a building with a sign proclaiming it to be the premises of Henshaw and Pemberley.
“Yes.”
He pushed open the door. As they entered the reception area, a young man jumped up from behind a desk and hurried toward them.
“Stop! What do you think you’re doing? Get out of here at once, you repulsive little creatures.”
Hetty stood her ground. “We’ve got something for a Mr. Henshaw or Mr. Pemberley. That you?”
“I am their clerk. And riffraff like you could not possibly have anything that would interest either of them.”
“What about this, then?”
She took the satchel from under her shawl, pulling it back quickly when the clerk made a grab at it.
“What’s all the commotion?” An authoritative-sounding voice from the top of some stairs caused them all to turn and look up.
The clerk’s face flushed with annoyance or embarrassment. Or possibly both.
“Nothing, Mr. Henshaw. These ragamuffins are trying to sell some sort of satchel. Which I dare say they stole,” he added, glaring at them.
“Didn’t neither,” Hetty retorted. “We found it under a bridge.”
“Come up,” said Mr. Henshaw, ignoring his clerk’s outraged gasp.
They followed him to his office, where Hetty gave him the satchel.
Mr. Henshaw sat down at his desk to open it. “How did you say you came by this?” he demanded after he had examined what was inside.
“We was working the river and found it rammed in a crack under a bridge.”
“How did you know to bring it to me?”
“I didn’t. But Jack here can read. He read your name off one of the papers and said they was important. He figured you’d want ’em back.”
“I do. A client is coming in to discuss the loss of the package this very morning.” Mr. Henshaw looked thoughtful. “This satchel was snatched from a courier two days ago. He gave chase, but said it was as though the fellow vanished into thin air upon rounding a corner. Why he even took it is a mystery. It contained nothing of interest to a run-of-the-mill thief, and nothing appears to be missing. And why hide it down by the river? Even if the contents were of no value to him, the scoundrel could have sold the satchel.”
&n
bsp; “Too right he could,” said Hetty. “Good leather, that. Not something you’d just chuck away.”
“Precisely.” Mr. Henshaw stood up. “I shall investigate this matter further. I’m very grateful, my girl. Here’s something for your trouble.” He withdrew a gold coin from his pocket and gave it to Hetty before hurrying out of the room.
“What is it?” she asked the others. “I hasn’t never had anything like this afore.”
“It’s a sovereign,” said Jack. “It’s worth a whole pound.”
“It never is! And he give it me because I brought him some papers?”
“Valuable papers.”
“Cor. And I wouldn’t never have known they was valuable if you hadn’t said. Maybe there’s something to this reading lark after all.”
Before she could say more, the clerk came in and ordered them out of the inner office. “That’s it. You’ve got your reward. And far too generous a one, if you ask me—now, out you go.”
He shooed them toward the door, where they collided with an elderly man in a frock coat and top hat.
“Granddad,” said Paige, and then realized it couldn’t possibly be. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought…I mean, for a minute you looked like…” She trailed off, unable to explain.
The old gentleman gave her a quizzical look.
“Sorry to disappoint you, my dear. As an old bachelor, I have neither chick nor child, and, in consequence, no grandchildren.”
“And certainly none such as you,” the clerk avowed, pushing Paige and the others outside. “Be off.”
“Now, now, Jenkins. It was a simple enough mistake. And it must be upsetting to misplace a grandfather. Here. Perhaps this will help.”
He gave Paige a large silver coin and winked as an exasperated Jenkins ushered him inside.
“You mustn’t let street urchins take advantage of you in this way, Mr. Hollingsworth. They’re born liars, every one of them. Her grandfather, indeed. What a preposterous story.”
“But inventive. You must admit it’s inventive.”
Jenkins slammed the door.
Hetty gazed at the coin, a half crown, in astonishment. “Cor, t’nt half our day for raking in the money. Who was that old geezer?”
“I’m not sure. But he really did look a lot like our grandfather. A bit younger maybe, but…” Paige gave her head a shake, as if trying to clear it.
“Pity he in’t your granddad. Seems like he’s loaded.”
“That Jenkins called him Mr. Hollingsworth,” said Dane. “So he must be…” He stopped, not wanting to say more.
The other two nodded to show they understood.
“Must be what?” asked Hetty.
“Loaded,” Jack replied smoothly. “We’ve heard of the Hollingsworth family. They’re quite well off.”
“So’s we, now, with one pound, two and six between us. That’s more’n I’ve ever had in me life. Even divvied up five ways, which is…uh, well, I don’t rightly know.”
“I do.” Jack mentally recreated the old monetary table he had seen on the blackboard at the Ragged School Museum. “It works out to…to four shillings and sixpence each. You’d have been able to figure that out yourself if you went to school. So, you see, an education could be useful to you and Pip in your line of work.”
“And help get you jobs that could have you making that much money on a regular basis,” added Paige. “Living day-to-day’s all very well, Hetty, but you’ve got to plan for the future too.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll think on it.”
Hetty was adamant that all their newfound wealth be shared equally. Ignoring protests from the others, she marched into a tavern and got both the sovereign and half crown broken into smaller monetary units, which she asked Jack to portion out.
“This isn’t right,” Dane whispered to Paige. “We shouldn’t be taking any of it.”
“Hetty won’t have it any other way,” Paige replied. “And who knows? We might have to use it to help them out later on.”
Hetty’s generosity did not end there. “We can go back along Cheapside. Some of me mates are likely to be there this time of day. Now that Pip and me’s in the money, we can stand them a slap-up meal.”
In Cheapside, a barefoot boy with a broom stood near the church of St. Mary-le-Bow, home of London’s famous Bow bells. About ten, he was being rebuffed by every passer-by whose path he offered to sweep. Close by, a girl who looked slightly younger than Hetty was trying to sell watercress, and two girls of about nine and six were offering passers-by a selection of lace. The watercress girl was barefoot, with clothes as ragged as Hetty’s. The two young lace vendors had shoes and were slightly better dressed than their companions. But they, too, were being ignored.
Hetty made the introductions, identifying the boy as her friend, Nolly, and the watercress girl as Gladys. The lace girls were Meg, and her little sister, Dora.
Nolly doffed his cap. “Pleased to meet you. Hetty told us about you. Finding your way all right, are you?”
“Yes, thanks,” said Dane. “Business not so good today?”
“Nah. Didn’t rain enough to get things really mucky. Folks usually only wants their path swept if it’s mucky out.”
“Can’t say we’ve moved much lace, neither,” sighed Meg, “nor Gladys her cresses.”
“Never mind,” said Hetty. “Pip and me’s had a bit of luck. We come to treat you all to a midday meal.”
“Oh, cheers, Het,” said Nolly. “And here comes Minnow. Hoi, Minnow, over here.”
A ginger-haired boy came up to them with his right arm cradled in a sling made from a dirty piece of sacking. He was also sporting a black eye and had a small cut on his forehead.
“Well, now, you’re quite a sight,” said Hetty. “What you been doing to yourself?”
“I sprained me wrist trying to catch a barrel that were rolling off the barge. Didn’t manage it,” he added ruefully. “The bargee called me a clumsy young lout, blacked me eye, and told me to clear off. He owed me a couple of day’s wages, but he wouldn’t give it me. Said the barrel were worth more than that.”
“That’s not fair,” said Dane, bristling with indignation.
Minnow shrugged. “How it is, mate.”
Paige was equally outraged. “He had no right to hit you either. You should get your parents to report him to the police.”
The street children all laughed.
“Huh! Like the peelers’d do anything.” said Hetty.
“And me dad’ll clout me himself if I goes home without money for his booze,” said Minnow. “Think I’ll steer clear of him ’til I’ve healed up. There’s other barges I can go on, but I won’t be much use for a bit. These the kids what you was on about a while back, Het?”
“Yeah.” Hetty reached into the little purse she kept fastened to the inside of her skirt. Pulling out a coin, she handed it to him. “Here, Min. This should help tide you over ’til you can work again. And keep your old man from leathering you.”
“A whole shilling? Coo, where’d you get that?”
“Found us a satchel with some papers in it. Gent what owned it were so pleased to have it back, he give us a gold sovereign. Wouldn’t never have taken it to him if this lot hadn’t been able to read and knowed it was valuable. They’ve been after me to learn ever since. Afore, too, come to that. Worse nags than Nolly, they are.”
Minnow grinned. “Wouldn’t have thought that were possible. S’pose you think I should go to school all the time now, eh, Noll?”
“Well, t’nt like you’ve anything else to do, is it? I were thinking of going tomorrow, if I had a good enough day to get by on for a bit.” He sighed. “Not looking too promising, though.”
“I told you I’d stand everyone a meal,” said Hetty. “I’ll do the same tomorrow. Then the whole lot of us can go to school.”
Nolly’s face lit up. “You mean it, Het? You’ll actually come?”
Hetty nodded. “Might as well give it a try, eh, Meg?”
“Can’t,” sa
id Meg. “Not Dorrie and me, anyway. The rent’s due. Mother won’t be able to pay it if we don’t go out with our lace. She works so hard making it. We have to do our bit.”
“I’ll give it you,” said Hetty.
“That’d be charity. Mother don’t hold with charity.”
“’T’nt charity. Just a mate helping out.”
Meg just shook her head, and Hetty gave up.
“What about you, Glad? You game to come?”
Gladys smiled. “I never minds a day off selling cresses.”
Paige, Dane, and Jack spent another uncomfortable night in the shed. In the morning they accompanied Hetty and Pip to what Hetty referred to as to the Copperfield School, where Minnow, Nolly, and Gladys were waiting for them.
Boys and girls were not taught together. They were all separated and Hetty had to allow Pip to be taken to the Infants Class. He was a little fearful at first, but the kindly Infants teacher coaxed him from Hetty’s side and assured her he would soon settle down.
Paige was told she was too old for day school classes, but upon hearing she could already read and write, the teacher in the girls’ section was delighted to make use of her as an assistant. Dane and Minnow were, technically, too old as well, but Dane was able to pass for ten, and the staff knew Minnow from night classes. In view of his injuries, he was allowed to stay.
Hetty, Gladys, and Jack were of suitable age, and Jack’s flair for languages served him well for posing as a London urchin. “Me and Dane’s had some learning,” he told his teacher, “but we’s after a bit more. We’ve got ambitions, we have.”
Even though they tried to do poorly on the tests he gave them, the man was quite impressed. Sitting down to advanced work, Dane realized he had never really appreciated what he knew. All around him, boys close to his age were struggling to read simple words; not because they were stupid, but because they’d had no chance to learn.