by Iris Gower
There was more to it than that, much more, but what did it mean? He was silent for a moment aware that Bridie was watching him carefully. ‘What about yout state of health, how would you manage aboard ship with your disability?’
‘I’ll take Collins with me, of course,’ Bridie said as if that settled the matter. Paul considered the problem; if he refused to take her, Bridie might realize he had something to hide, she might even have her suspicions already that his cargo was not all it should be, she was many things but she was not stupid. He did not want her going to the authorities and causing trouble for him.
‘Very well, if that’s what you want.’ Let her go, he reasoned, the cargo would be safely aboard by then, what harm could she do? She would not be able to get into the hold to examine the cargo. Even if she persuaded someone else to do the deed for her, they would find only horse-collars and patent fuel blocks, goods he had carried to Ireland many times before.
He moved to Bridie’s side and took her hand in his, ‘No-one can say I’m not a generous man.’ He saw Bridie’s face redden and he smiled in satisfaction, his barb had struck home, they both knew that Paul could afford to be generous now that he held her fortune in his own hands. Serve her right for pestering him.
The landlord was lighting the lamps in the Burrows Inn, the room was fuller now and smokier than it had been earlier. Matthew Hewson leaned back in his chair, a feeling of triumph curving his lips into a smile. ‘I think just a few of the packets of opium will make us a nice little profit, why don’t we help ourselves to them while we have a chance?’
‘I don’t think Marchant is the sort of man you can double-cross and get away with it,’ Smithers said doubtfully and Matthew began to feel irritated with him.
‘If you don’t want to take any risks then get out now,’ he said aggressively, sizing Smithers up with a practised eye. The man was not tall but he was strong enough, his biceps bulging beneath his flannel shirt. But he was short on brains, he could be outmanoeuvred with no trouble.
‘No need to talk like that,’ Smithers said backing down at once, ‘I’ll go along with whatever you say.’
‘That’s better.’ Matthew relaxed, people were so easy to handle when a man knew what he was about. ‘Let’s have another tankard of ale, the night is young, I need to find myself a woman.’
Smithers looked him over, ‘I know a place, lovely doxies, do anything for me. Take care of them I do, if there’s bother with a customer.’
‘I’m not paying for any woman,’ Matthew said bluntly, ‘they can nail me in my coffin when I can’t get up a skirt without offering money.’
‘No need to pay, I’m always welcome to take my pick of the girls, any sort of girl I like, Chinese, Indian, African, they’re all bit of a change from the pale girls you get round the docks.’
‘Why not?’ Matthew said looking round at the pipe-smoking men in greasy caps, at the sawdust-covered floor and the beer-soaked tables. All at once he felt he would enjoy a woman who didn’t demur, didn’t pretend to be virtuous but allowed a man to take freely of his pleasures.
Smithers rose to his feet, ‘What if Marchant finds out we’ve taken some of his precious opium?’
‘I’m more than a match for Paul Marchant,’ Matthew said, ‘don’t you worry about that.’
The bawdy house was brighter than Matthew had expected, clean with drapes that were rich, if faded, and furniture that was cared for and polished. It was a good sign.
‘Evening, Mrs Preece Williams.’ Smithers addressed the woman, who sat in the opulent chair that resembled something like a royal throne, with obvious respect. She inclined her head regally and Matthew saw that once she had been very beautiful.
‘Good to see you so early, Mr Smithers, I do not theenk there will be trouble tonight, no many boats come into the docks this week so trade is, what you might say, slow.’
Was she really a foreigner, Matthew wondered, or as her name implied was she as firmly rooted in Wales as he was?
She snapped her fingers and a young girl came out of the shadows carrying a tray containing a crystal decanter and some balloon shaped glasses. ‘Brandy for the gentlemen, Seranne.’ The girl was quick to obey, she was dark and with the colouring of a country girl and her eyes slanted towards Matthew with approval.
Mrs Preece Williams saw the look and tapped the girl lightly on her bare arm. ‘Patience, Seranne, let the man have his dreenk. In any case, our visitor might like to peruse our other girls before he makes his choice, might you not Mr . . . ?’
‘Mat,’ Matthew said quickly, he was somewhat suspicious, not willing to give his full name and the woman smiled.
‘Mat it shall be. More brandy for Mat, Seranne, and you Mr Smithers, a whisky and an hour with little Sal Huang as usual, is it?’
Smithers, with a quick glance at her, nodded but Matthew was looking at Seranne who was bending before him, her sweet, full breasts rising seductively above her bodice.
‘I think Seranne will suit me just fine,’ he said, liking her scent, her provocative way of looking at him, everything about her. She was seductive, knowing and completely undemanding and for the moment that was just what he needed.
‘Show Mat to the best room, Seranne, and look after him. Take the rest of the brandy with you.’
Mat glanced back at Smithers but the man was disappearing through a doorway obviously anxious to get on with the matter in hand. Seranne led the way up the carpeted stairs and along the corridor to a small but elegant room. ‘Make yourself comfortable, Mat,’ she poured him another drink and he sipped it, realizing that it was good, strong stuff.
‘Not too much of that or you’ll find me a disappointment,’ he said pulling her to him. She responded at once and he sighed in satisfaction, this was the life, take a woman when you wanted her and then leave her. This was merely a dalliance, a chance encounter, a little bit of spice to his boring existence.
Seranne was everything he could have wished for, she did not push him, or appear too eager, she waited on him like a handmaiden, doing anything he bade her with swift sureness that excited him. He did not care that she had practiced her art with other men, many other men, indeed the thought lent a piquancy to the event as if it were not quite real.
At last, he lay beside her sated and as if by magic, a drink was presented to him. ‘Well, why not?’ he said aloud, he was beholden to no-one, he might just as well make a night of it.
‘Another few drinks,’ Seranne said persuasively, ‘will give you back your strength. You are a wonderful lover, Mat, the best man I’ve ever had.’
He believed her and feeling good, he drank deeply from the glass. When Matthew opened his eyes, it was daylight, he turned his aching head and saw that he was alone in the large bed, Seranne had vanished. He rose and his ablutions were perfunctory, the water in the jug was cold as he splashed it into the basin careless of the drops falling onto the pale marble of the washstand. The door opened and Smithers entered the room, a big mug of steaming tea grasped in his hand.
‘Good night?’ he asked and Mat nodded, feeling none too pleased that the other man seemed clear-headed, none the worse for his night of carousing.
‘Good enough,’ Matthew said flatly. ‘Isn’t it about time you were getting back to work, don’t want your boss suspecting anything.’
‘No, that would never do,’ Smithers agreed readily. ‘But it’s only just gone five, I start work at six. Perks of being in charge, the other men are hard at it by the time I get to the tannery.’
Matthew sniffed, ‘You don’t need to tell me, I worked at Glyn Hir for years, remember?’
Smithers ignored Matthew’s ill temper. ‘There’s a good, cooked breakfast waiting down in the kitchen when you’re ready.’ Smithers backed towards the door. ‘When is the Marie Clare sailing for Ireland?’
‘Today,’ Matthew said briefly and brushed his thick, dark hair wishing the other man would go away and leave him in peace.
‘So when do we make our move?’ Smither
s persisted. Matthew turned to him, his face hard. ‘When I tell you,’ he said. ‘Now get the hell out of here.’
The door closed and Matthew stared at it for a long moment. In only a day or two, he would be able to quit the sea, he would have a little nest egg all of his own. Then to hell with everyone, Paul Marchant, the odious Smithers and most of all Ellie Hopkins who had been the one who had got him in this situation in the first place, dismissing him as if he was a nobody.
He left the room and walked down the carpeted stairs feeling a great deal better than he had when he’d woken up. Soon, he would be able to afford a fine house of his own, he would be looked up to, he would have money in his pocket and then the whole town of Swansea could look out.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
‘I’ve missed you so much, Daniel, and I’m so glad you could come home for the weekend.’ They were walking side by side in the garden at the back of Glyn Hir, as far away from the smell of the tannery as they could get. The air was cold, crisp, with a light fall of snow covering the ground but Ellie felt warm as she looked up at Daniel. She felt her heart lift, in his dark suit covered by his big topcoat, he looked so handsome with a powdering of snow in his hair. ‘What’s the bishop of St David’s like, have you come to know him any better?’
Daniel shook his head. ‘He’s so far above me in all sorts of ways, I’m half frightened to speak to him. I obviously don’t appear as stupid as I feel because he seems to think I’m a suitable candidate for a career in the church.’ Daniel took her gloved hand and hugged it close to his side. ‘I think it’s going to work out all right, I’m determined to make a success of it.’ He paused. ‘I won’t be very well off, though, Ellie. I won’t have much to offer you but when I’ve finished at Lampeter college, I’ll be ordained, I’ll be appointed curate, probably to some fairly small parish. Will you come with me, Ellie, where ever I go?’
‘I’ll be like Ruth in the Bible,’ Ellie said. ‘Your people will be my people, that sort of thing.’ She became serious, ‘Dan, there’s something I have to talk over with you.’
‘What is it?’ He looked at her quickly, ‘You’re not in any trouble, are you?’
‘Not exactly but I’ve planned something and now I’m having a conscience about it. I wanted to protect you from the truth but now, Dan, I need to know if I’ve done the right thing.’
He laughed. ‘I’m sure you have but tell me everything and then I can really decide if you’re a wicked woman or not.’
‘It concerns contraband goods,’ Ellie said hesitantly knowing how absurd it sounded. ‘I’ve learned that opium is being smuggled through Ireland without any duty being paid.’
Daniel frowned. ‘I don’t know how you’ve come by this information but surely, Ellie, the proper authorities should be alerted as soon as possible.’
‘It’s not as simple as that.’ Ellie spoke quietly. ‘The opium is being concealed inside horse-collars made from our leather.’
Daniel looked down at her, she had his full attention now. ‘This really is serious, are you sure about it Ellie?’
‘I’m sure. What’s so awful is that Matthew Hewson is involved along with Paul Marchant. Matthew threatened that if I didn’t keep my mouth shut and give him a substantial amount of money, I would be implicated in the whole sorry mess.’
‘Go to the police,’ Daniel said at once, ‘don’t allow anyone to intimidate you, Ellie, you are innocent, anyone with eyes would see that.’
‘I wish you were right,’ Ellie frowned. ‘But my wagons take the leather to the saddler and collect it when it’s ready, who would believe I didn’t know anything about the contraband? In any case, I think people will believe anything they hear, especially about me. I haven’t exactly had an unblemished past, have I?’
She paused seeing Daniel rub his eyes, carefully considering what she had said. ‘I think you could establish your innocence, Ellie, I really do. I think you must put the matter in the hands of the authorities, alert the Customs and Excise men about what’s happening.’
‘Listen, please Daniel, there’s more. I instructed the men from the yard, Harry, Luke and Boyo to switch the loads of leather goods. What Paul Marchant is shipping to Ireland will be horse-collars, simply that.’
‘I see. What then? Will you turn the contraband over to the customs men, is that your plan?’
Ellie shook her head. ‘I hadn’t thought of doing that, my idea was to exchange the real contraband cargo for Paul Marchant’s signature on some documents. He would have to sign his wife’s fortune back into her hands and sign a letter absolving me of any involvement in his schemes.’
‘But Ellie,’ Daniel’s voice was soft, ‘you’ll be allowing these men to profit from the misery of others. The opium will be sold on the open market, don’t you understand what that means?’
Ellie shook her head. ‘I’m not sure, Dan, I know people smoke opium but no-one seems to come to any harm from it.’
‘Ellie, you are so unworldly,’ Daniel shook his head, ‘opium is addictive, taken in excess it will kill.’
‘But Dan, laudanum is derived from opium, it is a medicine, you know that as well as I do. The trade in opium is not illegal, what Paul Marchant is doing is smuggling simply to avoid paying the duty on the goods.’
‘The selling of opium should be illegal and it will be very soon, mark my words. Whatever way you look at it, Paul Marchant is breaking the law, you realize that, of course.’
‘Yes, I do realize that,’ Ellie took her hands away from Daniel’s grasp, piqued at his tone, ‘I’m not completely stupid you know.’
‘Ellie, I didn’t mean to imply that you were, it’s just that you can’t in all conscience just hand the contraband cargo back to these men.’
Ellie turned her back on Daniel, for the first time she felt out of sympathy with him. ‘Don’t you realize the implications, Daniel? Marchant could be harmed if he doesn’t deliver the load as promised. In any case, it’s too late to change my mind now, Bridie has gone across to Ireland, she is going to confront her husband, give him an ultimatum.’
Daniel rubbed his head. ‘I can’t condone what you are doing, it’s just not right.’
Ellie bit her lip. ‘Dan, are we having our first quarrel?’
He shook his head. ‘I will not quarrel with you, Ellie, I accept you acted for the best.’ He stood behind her and drew her back against him. ‘I can only pray that no harm comes to either you or Bridie Marchant, I’m sure you don’t realize just what sort of vicious men you are dealing with. You are playing a dangerous game, my love, I wish you’d talked to me before you got into this mess.’
She turned in his arms and faced him placing her hands against his cheeks. ‘It will be all right, you’ll see. Paul Marchant will sign anything just so he can save his own skin and after this is over, he will have to give up the smuggling for good, too many people know about it for it to be safe any more.’
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he sounded doubtful. ‘I still think you should have gone to the authorities and I still think you are taking, silly, dangerous risks.’
Ellie suddenly shivered, she had felt the cold touch of Daniel’s disapproval and it was a feeling she didn’t much care for.
Boyo was in love. He stared across the aisle of the Catholic Church to where the O’Conner family were sitting. There were four of them, the parents, stiff in their Sunday best, Mr James O’Conner looking fierce and large with a heavy moustache and beard and his wife Irfonwy, gentle and pretty as a summer’s day. Beside them were their two daughters, April and Cathie, both pretty, both with an abundance of thick hair tied back beneath old-fashioned straw hats. It was April, the elder of the two girls who interested him, who had brought him to this unaccustomed place of worship on a Sunday.
He allowed himself another glance at April, he should have bought her something really special, a locket on a gold chain, perhaps. She was very well aware of his scrutiny; she glanced his way often, only to lower her golden eyelashes the moment his gaz
e met hers. She was, he thought, about sixteen years of age, her sister quite a bit younger.
April was well-built already, her breasts were full, straining sweetly against the crisp cotton of her dress. She had the healthy look of a farmer’s daughter which was exactly what she was.
Boyo had seen the family in Swansea many times, of course, only it seemed that lately April had turned from a chrysalis into a butterfly without him being aware of it. He had sometimes collected milk and eggs from the farm for Ellie but lately she had been sending Rosie, claiming she needed Boyo at the tannery. Just his luck.
Boyo frowned, the tannery wasn’t the happy place it used to be before Smithers had come to work there. He was a poor manager and his air of self importance stuck in Boyo’s craw. The atmosphere at Glyn Hir was different, colder. The men resented the newcomer, he wasn’t experienced in the way that Harry was, or even Luke, either of them would have made a better manager. It was just a shame that Ellie didn’t think the same way.
Mind, it was the old hands she turned to when she wanted anything special done, like the swapping of the loads of collars for instance. Not that he understood what it was all about but if it was what Ellie wanted, it was all right by him. The original consignment of collars was now stored in the barn at the side of the house where Boyo used to sleep. There must be something special about those particular leather goods because Ellie had employed a locksmith to put a huge lock on the barn door.
Boyo looked up as he became aware of the bustle of people preparing to leave the church but at the last minute, the priest held up his hand. ‘There will be a social evening for young people and a special mass on Monday next.’ He beamed beatifically at the congregation with the awesome regard for children given only to those who have none of their own.
Outside the church, Boyo saw that April had fallen behind and was standing a little apart from her family, apparently tying up the laces of her boots. He moved quickly towards her. ‘Excuse me, Miss O’Conner,’ he began hesitantly. She looked up at him and then looked quickly away again, her cheeks blushing red beneath her bright hair. ‘Might I have the pleasure of seeing you at the social on Monday?’