The Thief's Daughter

by Victoria Cornwall

  A man arrived from the beach, his breathing rapid from running. Tied to his body were two tubs of spirits, one strapped to his back and the other to his front. A man helped him to remove them and passed a four-gallon barrel to Jenna so she could load it onto a horse. Aware she did not know how to, she rolled it towards the man at her side. Too busy to question her, he lifted the tub high onto a horse’s back and tied it into place. Jenna grabbed the opportunity to leave and followed the other man onto the beach.

  Although she was away from the horses, she did not feel any safer. As she ran along the beach, she passed men loaded with goods coming in the other direction. Either side of the runners were lines of large, stocky men standing guard and holding farm implements, their eyes focused on the cliff edges and ready for an attack from the preventative men. Pig sticking knives, wooden farm flails and scythes were deadly weapons in their hands, yet could easily be explained away by the rural workers if they were caught. These men have used violence before, thought Jenna, and they will turn on me if they discover I am not one of them.

  The tide was out and left a damp sheen in its wake. The soft sand beneath her feet became solid and unforgiving as she neared the water’s edge. A rowing boat, laden with tubs and wooden boxes, arrived at the shoreline. Immediately its cargo was unloaded by eager waiting men, while others steadied the bobbing boat. They worked in silence, fighting against the tidal water that hampered their speed as they waded back onto firm ground again with their booty.

  Jenna grabbed a bale of tobacco, which was wrapped tight and made waterproof by oilskin, hastily turned and followed the others back to the waiting horses. As she ran she held the bale tightly against her chest and kept her eyes down to avoid looking at anyone as she passed them. She hated what she had become and silently cursed her brother under her laboured breath.

  The hard sand turned soft again, sapping her strength with each step she took, but desperation and fear fed her determination so she continued on. As she arrived at the horses, she covered her small hands with her sleeves and handed the bale over to a waiting man before turning again and heading back to the shore. She was now one of many anonymous shadows on Porthenys Cove, all hardworking, focused, yet eerily silent.

  Knee deep in icy water, Jenna began to shiver as she grabbed another bale of tobacco. She had lost track of time, but suspected that several hours had already passed. She was exhausted and wondered how long she could keep working. Her fingers, numb with cold, were blanched and clumsy, as she struggled to maintain her grip on the bundle.

  She glanced up and saw a tall man approach, his face hidden behind a long beard, black markings and a low set hat. He looked down on the men scrabbling for goods around him, selected three with a firm touch on their shoulders and indicated that they follow him. Fearful she might be discovered, Jenna hugged the bale she was carrying closer to her chest and turned quickly to leave, but a wave pulled at her thighs and dragged her ankles from beneath her. She fell sideways into the water as the bale escaped her and began to float away. She scrambled to her feet and managed to grab the bale again, hoping she had not been seen.

  ‘You! Boy! Follow me,’ the man called.

  Jenna froze in fear. It was the first time anyone had spoken and she was aware that inquisitive faces were already beginning to lift. She bowed her head and tried to ignore him, hoping he would try someone else, but the bearded man called to her again. Someone else nudged her to get her attention as heads began to turn in her direction.

  ‘Job Blake wants you, boy,’ muttered someone under his breath.

  ‘He’s one of the Blake brothers,’ warned another. ‘Best do as he says.’ This time she felt she had no choice but to obey. Pulling her hat lower to cover her eyes, she dropped the bale back into the water and reluctantly followed, leaving the tobacco bobbing on the surface until it was grabbed by another.

  She trailed behind the other men, as they left the main group and headed towards a cave entrance. Its gaping mouth was barely visible in the shadow of the cliff, as the cloud filled sky blocked out most of the moonlight above. Jenna’s steps faltered, afraid she was heading for a trap. Job noticed her hesitation and called for her to hurry. Fearful of the unwanted attention she was causing, she had to do as he commanded.

  ‘They hid some in here,’ Job said as they entered the cave. ‘We are nearly finished so we need to get this lot moved.’

  ‘Lambskin adding to his collection again?’ asked one of the others.

  ‘Aye. Amos was sent word that they dropped the box so we need to check it. Better we say it never arrived than bring Lambskin damaged goods.’ Job paused, causing those that followed him to stop too. ‘If any of you blabber about what I just said,’ he warned without bothering to look around and single anyone out, ‘I’ll make sure you will never walk again.’ An uneasy silence descended as Jenna and the men followed Job deeper into the pitch-black cave.

  Jenna heard the distinctive strike of a tinderbox. Flying sparks pierced the blackness and landed on a piece of char-cloth in Job’s hand. With gentle breaths, he coaxed life into the glow to encourage a flame, which another man used to light a candle inside a lantern. Jenna stepped backwards to hide in the shadows, but she need not have worried. The lantern they used was tailor-made for smuggling, with three sides blacked out whilst the fourth had a cone, which directed the beam.

  ‘Hold this, someone,’ Job demanded, holding it out with a straight arm as he dropped to his knees. Without hesitating, Jenna grabbed it and held it steady, eager to ensure the beam was always pointing away from her. ‘I want the light here, boy,’ he ordered, indicating an area of sand in front of him. Jenna did as she was told and lit up his grimy hands searching the sand. He quickly found two shovels and handed them out. Without speaking, the other men grabbed them and began to dig.

  It was not long before a shallowly buried wooden container jarred against their shovels. They immediately tossed their tools aside and fell to their knees, working furiously with their hands until the top of a box was exposed. Jenna watched in silence as they lifted it out and broke open the lid.

  ‘Boy, bring it closer,’ said one of the other men who had, up until now, not spoken. Jenna took a step closer and shone the beam of light onto the tightly wrapped cloth bundles. A knife was brought out and the twines holding them were quickly sliced in two.

  ‘He’s a strange one, to have such a fondness for fancy stuff such as this,’ someone muttered.

  A pair of turquoise, porcelain vases, on gilt bronze mounts, was exposed to the light of their lantern first. Each was decorated with an idyllic country scene of a gentleman wooing his love. What a contrast to my life, thought Jenna miserably, keen to look away.

  The second pair of vases was of a different style. They were tall, bold, with a sculpted, bearded face decorating one side. Their deep red surface, which was interspersed with luminous flecks of white, shimmered oddly in the flickering light. Their strange style hinted at the foreign land of their origin and was not to Jenna’s taste.

  The last to be exposed were the paintings. These captured Jenna’s attention the most. Such skill. Such beauty. How could something so static depict such movement? For the briefest of moments, Jenna forgot where she was, until rough, dirty hands began to examine them. They were hurried and rudimental in their execution as they knew nothing of the real value of the objects they were handling. Although Jenna was no more educated, she knew that these items held a far higher value than the men understood. Satisfied that there was no obvious damage, they were hastily rewrapped and the light extinguished.

  ‘Carry them to Amos. He’s up by the ponies. He knows where to take them,’ ordered Job. Without uttering a word, everyone in the cave took as much as they could carry and ran out onto the beach and back to the horses. Jenna did the same and this was repeated twice more before the cave was cleared. By then many of the other smugglers had received their payment and dispersed into the hills. Finally, Jenna was told to collect hers from Amos Blake. With he
r heart in her mouth, she lined up to be paid.

  As she waited in line, her collar turned up and her head bowed, she watched the last two heavily laden horses be led away. In their wake a man brushed the ground with a large branch in order to wipe away their hoof prints. As she drew nearer to her turn she could see that the man handing out the money looked similar in size to his brother, with a solid frame, a great height and a long black beard to the level of his chest. A man at her side jostled her to move forward. She realised she was in the front of the line and it was her turn to get her money.

  Jenna dared not look up as the coins were hurriedly thrust into her hands in the darkness and despite her dreading the moment, it was a rushed affair and quickly over. Within seconds she found herself walking briskly away to the safety of Jack’s home, with the equivalent of a month’s wage buried deep in her pocket.

  She was halfway up the hill, and beginning to relax, when she heard a man’s voice call out to her.

  ‘Hey! Are you Ebenezer’s boy?’ Jenna knew no Ebenezer and vigorously shook her head without turning around. She held her coat tightly around her and quickened her speed.

  ‘He won’t like you being here,’ he shouted. ‘Stop when I’m speaking to you!’

  Jenna broke into a run. The man gave chase, his grunting breaths indicating the speed of his steps behind her. Jenna followed an earthy track that snaked its way up the side of the hill, but already wet and exhausted, the steep gradient soon began to drain any strength she had left. As she grew weaker, her steps grew smaller. She dared not turn around and hoped he would soon tire, but like a dog with a bone, he would not give up.

  The futility of her attempt at escape began to dawn on her when she heard more desperate, grunting breaths – and realised they were her own. Yet, despite the inevitable capture, she was still taken by surprise when her foot missed its step as he kicked it away from under her. She fell, sprawling forward, her chin hitting the ground with a sickening thud. She felt his knee press hard into the small of her back.

  ‘I’m talking to you, boy. Show some respect!’ he whispered through gritted teeth into her ear. She turned her face away as the smell of brandy and stale breath wafted over her face, but the action only angered him more. He grabbed her collar and some of her hair in his fist, and pulled her to standing. Jenna clamped her mouth shut to stop herself from screaming as strands of hair tore from her scalp.

  ‘I can see I need to teach you a lesson in manners, lad,’ he said, shaking her so roughly that for a moment her feet left the ground. She knew she had no strength to fight him, but she still had her wits. She reached behind her head for his hand and pulled hard on his little finger. He yelled in pain and his grip loosened, but just as she found her balance again, she lost it as he was pulled away into the darkness by someone unknown and thrown aside.

  Jenna fell onto her knees, breathless and shaking, as her attacker sprawled on the ground beside her. Someone had intervened and, although she was grateful, she remained fearful that this new arrival would be just as dangerous.

  She was about to run when she saw her attacker rise to his feet and challenge the man who had come to her aid. In reply, he received a single punch to his face. He stumbled drunkenly backwards, dazed and in pain. The newcomer advanced, spun him around by the shoulders, placed his muddied boot on his buttocks and shoved him roughly into the darkness.

  ‘Scuttle back into the rat hole you crawled out of, unless you want my boot down your throat.’

  Recognising the voice, Jenna scrambled to her feet in an attempt to escape. She stumbled and fell, but rose quickly again, desperate she would not be discovered, but it was too late. Her rescuer grabbed her sleeve to stop her, but as she tried to twist away she heard her shirt tear. The cold air on her exposed shoulder halted her in her tracks. The man tore off her hat and looked at her hair.

  ‘Well, well. You are not a boy, but a maid. What a surprise,’ he said, not sounding in the least surprised. He pulled her closer and roughly pushed the hat back onto her head as he looked about him. ‘It is too dangerous to be out here tonight,’ he said. ‘You are coming home with me.’

  He began to lead the way, but when he saw that Jenna was too tired to match his steps he grabbed her hand. Angry with herself at being caught, she shook him off, but he would not have it.

  ‘You will do as I tell you. You have been lucky tonight, but luck has a bad habit of ending.’

  ‘My luck ended some minutes ago!’ she retorted angrily.

  He paused and looked at her shivering body. ‘You should be in bed,’ he said tersely, before slipping his arm about her waist to hold her tightly. She held her breath, surprised by his close proximity. He did not notice. ‘Come on,’ he ordered, forcing her to match the speed of her steps with his own. ‘We are too exposed on this track.’ As they walked, the heat from his body began to warm her. She found her body, which had been tense with cold, begin to relax making the hill climb somewhat easier.

  At the top of the hill she stepped away from him, to put some distance between them. He let her go, allowing her to claw back some dignity and independence. Side by side they looked down on the now empty cove below them to catch their breaths. With no form of shelter, the wind was stronger here and buffeted their bodies as they rested. He turned to look at her face covered in mud. The anger had left his, only to be replaced by disappointment. He reached for her hat again, and gently took it off her. Disarmed by his unexpected calmness, she did not resist. She watched him as he turned it in his hand to look at it, before drawing it back and throwing it over the cliff. The wind caught it, tossed it as if it were a toy, and carried it away.

  ‘I knew you would be trouble,’ he said as he glanced down at her clothes. ‘I should have listened to my head and never have hired you.’

  ‘I had my reasons,’ she replied.

  He did not want to hear it. ‘There is no good reason for you to risk your life, Jenna,’ Jack retorted.

  They left the cliff edge and continued on towards his house. Her damp legs grew chilled and she began to tire again. Noticing she was lagging behind, he offered her his arm. The independence she had attempted to show earlier was gone and she reached for it. It gave her the support she needed, and for the first time that night she was glad that he was there.

  ‘Wash that filth off your face,’ Jack muttered, dropping a bucket of water down in front of her. Jenna watched some of the water slop over her boots and onto the floor. From the tension in his face, and the silence that followed, Jenna could tell that his anger had returned. The water was just another sign of how much she had disappointed him. It was ice cold, but she tentatively began to remove the dried mud from her face as he moved around the room, lighting candles. She shivered and Jack noticed. Saying nothing, he began to feed the fire with wood to bring it back to life. It did not take long and Jenna came to stand before it to soak in its warmth.

  The silence was deafening; she had to break it.

  ‘You are angry with me.’

  He didn’t answer and then, as if he could not bear to be near her, he left the room.

  Jenna waited, unsure what to do. Finally he returned with a blanket and her nightgown.

  ‘Take off those wet clothes and put this on before you catch a fever,’ he said solemnly, dropping them unceremoniously at her feet. He turned his back on her to allow her some privacy. ‘You have a lot of explaining to do,’ he said.

  ‘How did you know it was me?’

  ‘I just did.’

  ‘Did you know I had left? Did you follow me?’

  ‘I did not. The fool that I am, I thought you were asleep in your bed.’ He turned his head to the side so she would hear his next words clearly. ‘Where you should have been.’

  ‘Yet you knew it was me.’

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘When I saw you running up the hill, you reminded me of when I first saw you running away from the gibbet. The way you moved looked the same, a sort of grace and fluidity in your movement that a ma
n does not have.’ He turned his head away again and lifted his chin. ‘I knew it was you and did not question it.’

  ‘Why were you out at night? Were you one of the smugglers?’

  ‘It is I who should be asking you that question.’

  The rustling of her clothes stopped, but she did not answer. He turned around abruptly for her reply, but he had turned too early. The white nightgown she had just put on over her head fell from her thighs to cover the rest of her legs. The unexpected sight of her shapely, bare legs surprised Jack, but it was the added bonus of being able to see every curve of her body silhouetted through her nightgown which rendered him speechless. He cleared his throat, which had gone noticeably dry, and reached for the blanket.

  ‘You look cold,’ he lied, determined not to let his hankering for a woman’s body, this woman’s body, muddle his thinking. He handed her the blanket. ‘Wrap yourself in this and cover yourself up.’

  She did as she was told, glad for the extra warmth, and sat on the floor to watch the orange and blue flames as they danced in the grate.

  ‘I will leave in the morning,’ she said quietly.

  Jack pulled a chair up and sat down close to her. ‘I think I deserve an explanation before you go.’

  ‘I have none to give.’

  ‘Let me be the judge.’

  She glanced up at him with sad, brown eyes that reminded him of the dark hues of rosewood. ‘I do not need you to judge me. I judge myself enough.’ She returned her gaze to the fire.

  Jack was glad. It would be easier to question her when she wasn’t looking at him.

  ‘They are fine words you speak.’

  ‘It is the truth.’

  ‘I think you would not recognise the truth if you saw it.’

  His retort hurt, he could tell, but she tried not to show it and continued to stare into the flames.

  ‘Let us start from the beginning,’ Jack continued. ‘Why did you follow me from Goverek and insist on working for me?’

  ‘You paid for a day’s work. I had nowhere to go and it was the right thing to do.’