A feigned irritation flashed across Finn’s face. ‘You’ve managed to put me in the hands of a sailing-mad lunatic. Do you know how little sleep I had last night? I stood middle watch last night, finished forenoon just now, and the crazy man has me rostered for two more, finishing up with the last dog watch. Says I’d learn quicker this way. Hawsers, halyards, pulleys, blocks, shrouds, all the different masts, tops and yards – who knew a ship had so many parts? And for the few hours I did sleep, all I did was tie bowline knots, five different ways! I tell you, ‘tis coming out of my ears and arse already. Puddenings and creengles. God Almighty, who dreamed up all these names?’
Tristan laughed, then suddenly realised he was so caught up in his thoughts that he had completely missed the sound of the bell. It was midday already? No one had raised any alarm as yet or had come looking for him, so all must be well. Silva knew where to find him so he decided that it would be a good time as any to get reacquainted with his old friend. ‘’Tis all important stuff, my friend, valuable knowledge that every sailor needs to know. But tell me when you’ve had enough. As a courtesy extended to all ailing passengers and failing sailors, we like to sail a little bit closer to the shore before we toss them overboard.’
A grunt from the tired man was all Tristan got. It was a low blow, but Finn could take it. ‘Have you had your share of rum yet?’
Finn nodded.
‘Here. Have another.’ Tristan offered Finn his mug, which his friend gladly accepted, his hands raw from working the lines. ‘You should spit some of that liquid onto your palms.’ Tristan’s advice came just as Finn emptied the mug in one giant gulp. ‘Or see the doctor down below and let him patch up those sores.’
‘Aye, I will, after I had some grub and before I have a nap.’ Finn yawned loudly as he stretched his stiff and tired body.
‘Now tell me, how did you find me? Africa is a big continent.’
Finn handed the mug back to him, then came and stood next to Tristan, the two of them watching the ship’s wide wake dissipate into the vastness as if it had never been.
‘As I made my way down the coast, I met this group of hunters in a tavern on the island of São Tomé. On my journey here, I found taverns to be an invaluable source of information, whether it be news of land or sea. I overheard them boasting about their bountiful expedition when one of them mentioned your name – “that Conway fella”. At first, I thought it couldn’t be, but then the same man repeated it, asking his captain if he thought whether that Conway fella would make a success of his hunting trip. At this stage, I was paying close attention, and when the captain mentioned the words “headstrong lad”, I knew it couldn’t be another Conway. However, I was confused at first because I believed you to be on a ship as your Captain Cutcliffe had pointed out the day he came to visit da’s shop, a few years ago now. He came with word that you were in his employ.’
‘So you did get my message. The Old Man told me as much at the time.’
‘Aye, I did. A good man, your captain. Those were da’s words, and you would know he’s a sound judge of character. From the other side of the bridge, your captain was, but plain spoken, and not a hint of haughtiness. The man even bought some crabs, and that’s always a favourable deed in da’s books. Anyway, that night da made a promise to me, that when I get into my eighteenth year that I could go find you, as I had promised. Da said every man should make a life for himself, and that he owed me that much seeing I had done him such great service over the years, foregoing most of my childhood, although I think ‘tis ma who reminded him of that last bit.’ They both smirked. The Sullivan women had proper Irish blood coursing through their veins, and his father was now bearing the full brunt by his lonesome self.
‘Anyhow, I introduced myself to the group’s leader, said that I was looking for an old mate of mine that fitted your description. I bought their table a round of drinks and learned that they were heading to the east coast of Africa for another expedition. Said he had an order for lion and leopard hides he needed to fill. Most importantly though, before the night was over, I was dead sure that white hunter from Embomma and the Tristan Conway I was looking for were one and the same. The captain said they weren’t taking on supplies again until they’d navigated around the Cape of Storms and with that went my chances of joining my newfound friends on their southward journey.
‘However, my luck soon changed for six days later, I secured passage on a Portuguese galleon, a slave ship that could not get its fill at Bissau. It was on its way to Loanda to further stock its hull with human cargo. Tristan, you should see the conditions in which they keep those slaves. ‘Tis dreadful. Worse than animals. With their legs and arms in irons, they are made to lie on their sides, squeezed between decks which prevent them from sitting or standing upright. The poor captive wretches share but a few buckets in which to empty their bowels, and you can imagine what a mess ‘tis within the confined space.’ Finn shook his head in all earnest, letting out an ominous sigh. ‘Tristan, these people are lying in their excrement! And it appears, to combat the ship from overflowing with faeces, they are only fed once a day, and they have to eat with their hands. Imagine crawling around in your own shit and then use it moments later to flavour your food.’
Tristan could hear the frustration in Finn’s voice, probably imparted through the inability to do anything about the poor people’s plight. Within himself, based on recent experiences with slavers, including the very personal event, he too was beginning to build up hatred towards these people.
‘Sometimes, small groups are allowed up on the deck where they are forced to dance and sing, and if they don’t partake, they get flogged. Men, women and children alike get a taste of the cat if they don’t comply with their masters’ wishes. This is also the time when those who no longer care, if given only the slightest of chances, leap for freedom to certain death.’ Finn snorted and spat into the sea with disgust after which he took some time to compose himself once more.
‘I arrived in Loanga some time ago and since then, waited for the right ship to take me to Embomma. Most northward ships that land at Loango head further up the coast, so I resigned myself to the fact that I could be based there for some time. Little did I know the town was just another slave factory and that slave ships, sometimes five or six at a time, would arrive fortnightly to take on board slaves who had been held captive up on the hill at the Capela de Casa Grande, where they had been baptised and given European names, like Carlos and Pedro.’ Finn smirked bitterly. ‘Maybe even Finn or Tristan. And now they’re probably out there on the ocean somewhere, still wondering what cruel God this is who inflicts so much pain and suffering on them.’ He let out a deep breath as he contemplated the sad circumstances of those people. ‘Sorry, I digress again.
‘Isabella arrived not long after, as did your Portuguese friends and this ship. Isn’t it strange how chance has brought us all here? Fortuna has surely smiled upon us, as Mr Hale used to say. I even ended up on the right ship!’
‘And with the right crew!’ While Tristan laughed, his heart skipped a beat upon hearing the barber’s name.
Finn looked at his raw hands. ‘That remains to be seen. Ask me again in a week.’ He returned the punch received earlier, with skill, and caught Tristan completely off-guard, his tired, yet quick wit, not lost on his old friend.
‘How’s my mother?’ asked Tristan, momentarily putting Hale out of his mind.
‘Your ma’s still living up north, on the outskirts of Hackney. A neat little farm with a nice cottage that she bought with the money you left her. A few sheep and chickens keep her company, and at the back, she has a beautiful vegetable garden. I think the reclusiveness that country living brings has helped her forge a new and happier life and, I’m sure the brothel’s ruination has helped her to forget the old.’ Finn lit a small pipe that had come from his jacket’s inner pocket. ‘I visited her whenever a delivery took me that far across the bridge. ‘Tis only a short ride by horse. She struggled in the beginning to make s
ense of it all, but I told her the truth, Tristan. To be honest, she didn’t seem fazed by anything I said, but I think hearing it from someone she knew brought some closure to any doubt she’d harboured. After that visit, she was doing much better, but naturally, she still misses you.’
Finn puffed away like a seasoned smoker even though he had only recently acquired the pipe. Tobacco had been hard to come by, even the lousy stuff he could afford. ‘Our conversation usually ended up with speculations about your travels, current whereabouts and the good old days, the mischief we two got up to, including those pranks that she knew about but never caned us for.’ They both chuckled, fondly remembering the rascality they had inflicted on others, the twins, La Boutique’s ladies, their friends, Mr Sullivan. The list was endless, and all their victims had brought them hours of joyous pleasure unless they had been caught, of course.
‘Her nearest neighbour is an elderly gentleman, a retired actuary from London. I’m no expert on matters of love, but I’d say, your ma has been quite taken with the fella. A Mr Albert…errr…I can’t recall his surname now, but I know he visits her every other day and I had the pleasure of running into him a few times when I called on your ma to see how she’s doing. Then there’s Joseph, a very protective drudge who helps your ma with all the tough tasks around the farm. Sleeps in a room at the back of the stable and apparently, he came with the farm. Nice fella, but as I said, very protective.’
Finn’s words warmed Tristan’s heart. To know that Sissy was ardently cared for was important to him. ‘My…’ – Tristan shook his head in wonderment and appreciation – ‘all of that is such good news. Our lives might have drifted worlds apart, but her happiness still means everything to me, especially considering the circumstances under which I left. The captain told me that he had visited mother once after he had managed to track her down, but he was frustratingly light on the details. He did mention that the brothel had burnt down and I’ve heard a myriad of stories and conspiracies from folks ever since. What happened to all the others, and the barber, after I’d left?’
‘He sure hadn’t told you much, your captain. But then I guess his main concern was the immediate welfare of your mother. Well, my friend, prepare to be intrigued because on some days, I myself still struggle to make sense of it all.’
‘No need to be dramatic. Just tell me the facts.’ Tristan hurried his friend along.
‘The long and the short of it is that they’ve all disappeared,’ said Finn.
‘What!? Perhaps I shouldn’t have offered you my rum.’
‘You heard me right. They all disappeared. It was like the sky had opened and swallowed them whole. First the barber, then the rat-faced fella, Miles, Madam—'
‘Somebody killed 'em?’
‘No, you don't understand. All of them vanished into thin air.’
‘You’re losing me. Perhaps I should hear the long version.’ Tristan walked over to the barrel in which the lead line was coiled. He turned it over, trapping the rope underneath, and took a seat.
Finn rested his bum on what appeared to be an empty chicken coop, but he was not sure as to its purpose and did so carefully.
‘First thing I did, after you’d left, was to see the barber. I went straight to the tavern after we’d spoken our last words down by the river. He didn’t take the news well and very quickly reminded me of the terms of our agreement. That was until I reminded him that the whole of London would be looking for you and that you had fled to protect his anonymity. It suddenly dawned on him that your disappearance was for his own good and that you had done him an irrefutable favour. I’ve never seen a man embody such dejection and elation at the same time. Over a few pints of ale, I told him exactly what had transpired, and in return, he disclosed who and what those parcels were intended for. I think he thought he owed me that much because of what had happened to you, or perhaps the pints had loosened the restraints on his usual self.
‘First, you need to know what you didn't know then. So, do you remember the contents of the parcel that you carried to the fancy house – the mansion out west?’
‘Aye. The one with the gold. How could I not?’ Tristan remembered it like it was yesterday.
‘Correct. Well, the owner of that house was none other than Mr Richard Page, the local justice of the peace.’
‘What? I knew there were a few grand houses out west but wasn't sure which belonged to whom. A justice of the peace? Who would’ve thought?’ Tristan was certain his friend would tell him everything in due course, but he was curious to know what business the barber had with a lawman. Hale despised them. Then he realised something. ‘Why did you say “he was the owner”?’
‘Well, if you let me finish—'
‘Sorry, carry on.’ Tristan was beyond intrigued.
‘Those two parcels contained bribes, intended to make these men look the other way. It allowed the barber the freedom to conduct his business in his own manner and on his own terms. One was meant for Mr Page and the other one, my one, went to a government official who ensured Mr Hale’s business ventures received approval at the highest levels. Apparently, this arrangement with the two corrupt officials had been in place for many years with at least one of them going back to the barber’s time in prison when a very young and ambitious Mr Page was a warden at The Clink. The deal was simple. As long as these two men received their generous windfalls triennially, the barber was the untouchable lord of the underworld. I asked him why he was telling me all of this, to which he replied, “Because they will be coming for me next, and none of this matters anymore.” That was the last time I saw him.’
Finn saw the disbelief on his friend’s face. Tristan must be wondering how they had never caught wind of Hale’s interaction with these people and his other businesses, especially since they had considered themselves close confidants of the barber. At least on their part, there had never been any doubt. Finn had since made peace with the fact that everyone had secrets.
‘’Twas exactly as he had said. As soon as the lawman didn’t receive his hush money and came to know that someone had been murdered outside his residence, he panicked and squealed like a pig. When all this appeared in The Gazette, that the magistrates had uncovered an elaborate plot by the barber to murder Mr Page but that you, the so-called assassin, had accidentally killed Giles instead, word had already started to spread about the barber’s disappearance. As you can imagine, the article brought great delight to the tell-tales, and coffee houses all over London were humming as imaginations ran wild. Some thought that the barber had already been captured and secretly put to death, while others speculated that he had fled to the countryside or even the country. How wrong they were.
‘I returned to the Two Daggers tavern a day later, hoping to find Arthur, but the place had been closed down, doors and windows all boarded up. I, for one, knew that the barber would never set foot in The Clink again, and for a man that knew more than most about London’s underground, he knew exactly where to lay low. When Ralf, who had taken over your deliveries, and I returned to The Smoking Cod later that afternoon, two magistrates were waiting for us. They were keeping da company. I told them everything that they didn’t want to hear, and after two hours they left us in peace, with nothing new, except a complaint from da about the theft of his boat.’
‘The boat that saved my life.’ Both lads grinned. ‘One day I will buy your father a new one.’
‘Da eventually got the truth out of me a few days later. I guess he just knew that ‘twas too much of a coincidence – your disappearance concurring with that of his boat.’ Finn could laugh about it now, but he remembered very well his father’s strained voice as the man tried his utmost to assess the danger that his son was in. Finn had finally obliged, and his father became the only other living soul to whom he told everything.
‘’Twas about the same time that the disappearances started. First, there was another murder. Ratface, or George as he was known in other circles, was found dead outside the brewhouse, close to
da’s shop. The watchmen found him, stuffed inside a barrel, one leg sticking out. His body was mutilated almost beyond recognition. Beaten to a pulp and then taken to with a knife. Forty-six cuts, the papers said. Whoever killed him took timely revenge and sent a message at the same time. I believe Miles had done the killing on behalf of his dead brother and, of course, Madam, who was probably still livid about the gold they’d lost.’ Finn looked at Tristan. ‘You know, for a clever lady, I could never work out why she’d even tried to mingle in the barber’s affairs. I mean, most people just knew…’
‘Greed. ‘Tis the relentless beast that made her who she is. If left untamed, it quickly becomes this bottomless pit in which you could throw all the gold, silver and jewels in the world, yet hungry it’ll remain.’
Finn acknowledged Tristan’s wise words and could not agree more. ‘That’s when real terror got a grip on the city. It started with the speculation about the barber’s disappearance. First Miles vanished, then Mr Page, but when the noble government official disappeared, that’s when panic really set in for no one knew exactly why, except the poor man himself. At the time, The Gazette ran a series of articles – “The Transcending Mysteries”, they called it.’ Finn carried on, describing in detail each of the murders and the victims. ‘The whole saga got the tongues wagging and fuelled the public’s obsession and craving for appetising tales of the macabre. Soon there was an urgency to people’s daily activities – they walked faster, talked faster, moved in groups and late-night traffic almost came to a standstill as fascination grew together with speculation as to who would be next. But I knew, and our lot carried on with our deliveries without a care.
‘Next thing I heard La Boutique had gone up in smoke in the middle of the night, presumably Madam with it. The whole place was gutted like a cod, and of the beautiful building, only a blackened shell remained. Your mother said they had heard a loud yet unknown voice boom through the corridors, screaming at them to run. By then, the fire had already started upstairs and quickly ate its way through the wooden ceilings. In the end, only Madam and her new guard were unaccounted for, so that’s who they opted for in the obituaries.’
The Fire Within Page 51