The Fire Within

by Samuel T Clayton

  ‘You just keep my son safe, lad, for there’s no amount of money in the world that could replace this bugger,’ said Mr Sullivan as he ran his fish gut fingers through Finn’s red curls.

  After some idle talk, Finn and a starving Tristan left Mr Sullivan and The Smoking Cod behind and headed to the nearby tavern for food and a tipple or two.

  ‘How did you go?’ asked Tristan as soon as they got seated.

  ‘First, tell me where you got the hat from. I can smell the new leather from here,’ asked Finn, unable to help himself. ‘And offering me da that stupendous amount of money? For a boat?’

  Tristan got slightly annoyed with Finn’s seemingly personal attack as well as diverting the conversation away from the most important matter of his day so far. ‘Thanks to our good fortune from the Hungry Ones’ days and some good investment by a wise man while I was away, I came into some decent coin. Don’t fret. There’ll be plenty to go around for everyone.’

  ‘I never fret,’ said Finn. ‘But you do know that a fancy hat on the head of a lookalike bum such as yourself would make you stand out in any crowd and could attract the very same suspicion that you want us all to avoid. It looks like you thieved the bloody thing.’

  He is right, thought Tristan. I need to be more careful. ‘Alright then! I won’t wear it. I’ll swop it with a beggar on the street. Well, when I find one with a hat that I like. Do you find that agreeable?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Splendid.’

  They sipped their drinks while looking at the different types of people drifting in and out of the place. Finn finally sighed like a man carrying all the burdens of the world. ‘I never thought I would say this, but this place, this city is driving me insane. ‘Tis just one relentless orchestra of cacophony. I can’t wait for the midnight hour every single day when finally, I can have some peace and quiet.’ When he saw the relaxed smirk on Tristan’s face, it just added fuel to the fire. ‘Not all of us were privileged enough to escape to the countryside for a week of repose. This morning, coming from ma’s pie shop and minding me own business, I walked around this corner when all of a sudden, this bloody bellman unleashed his pestering of morning news straight into my right ear. I nearly ran the man through, I tell you.’

  Tristan understood very well but still could not stifle the laugh. ‘I promise to get you out of here as soon as possible, but first, tell me what you found out.’

  A meat and vegetable pottage that had simmered for several hours was delivered to their table and while they ate, scooping up the sauce with big chunks of bread, Finn said, ‘No good news as yet. I went to Billingsgate every other day, to spy on da’s competition at the fish market, and to speak to the fellas down at the dock. A few merchant ships are heading for the East. One merchant I spoke to is expecting two shipments of sugar and rum from Jamaica any day now, and they will head back soon after. But I gathered from the dockworkers that those same ships have been overdue for a month now and had possibly fallen foul of the weather or pirates. Not many ships around here that travel that way, I’m afraid, Tristan. Most of them head down the African coast, pick up slaves, cross the Atlantic and then bring goods back here. We’ll need a specific trader who’s taking specific British goods for a specific reason to that part of the world.’

  Tristan scratched his head. He had not been expecting a miracle but could do with one right now.

  ‘You could always buy us a ship. Preferably a new one,’ said Finn, poking fun at his friend’s newfound fortune, more than anything else. ‘I mean you already have the hat to go with it.’

  Tristan pretended to ignore Finn’s attempted tomfoolery, for purchasing a boat was indeed an option he had previously considered. ‘There’s no time. This time of year, with its fine weather, everyone with a ship is trading and prices would be ludicrously high. Building one would take too long. I think I’ll go and see the Old Man next.’

  ‘Captain Cutcliffe? The one you’re always talking about?’

  ‘The one and same. He would still have connections with other merchants, including those at the docks further down the river, perhaps even some of the other ports. If there’s one person who could help us out of this quandary or at least set us onto the right person, he would be the one.’

  ‘Well, pray he can help us. Otherwise, London will soon be one crier short.’

  Wiping up the last of his meal and finishing it off with a mouthful of ale, Tristan reached into the satchel and said, ‘I’d better get going. In the meantime, here you go.’

  ‘What’s this?’ asked Finn. He grabbed the pouch that Tristan had placed on the table, then immediately recognised its contents and as inconspicuously as possible, slid it into his jacket’s inner pocket, looking inquisitively at Tristan.

  ‘All your wages paid retrospectively for the past eight weeks and a little bit more to see you through until we find a suitable ship. Please see that the others get their fair share.’ The frown on Finn’s face slowly receded. ‘You’re still the quartermaster and purser after all, are you not?’ Finn nodded.

  They got up and walked out into the busy street. ‘Are we still meeting up as planned?’ asked Finn.

  ‘Nothing has changed. Just let them know that I’m working on a plan to get all of us out of here.’

  The two men shook hands and went their separate ways, one set about tracking down their crew while the other looked up an address on a scribbled piece of paper and pointed the nose of his horse in that direction.

  ‘Ah, bless you, lad, for bringing joy to this old fool’s otherwise humdrum existence!’ The Old Man struggled to get the words out in between a fit of laughter, wiping tears from his wrinkly eyes. ‘Tayler would not have been a happy man. Not at all!’

  Tristan knew the captain would appreciate the story, one of many he had already told over tea and scones they were having in the Old Man’s study at his home in Bloomsbury. Not wanting to navigate the bridge’s traffic once more, he had left Chestnut in a stable boy’s care after which he had taken a wherry across the river. On the other side, he had disembarked at Temple Stairs, and from there it had been a brisk ten-minute walk to the captain’s home, first through narrow alleys close to the riverside and then large open parks where various new buildings were taking shape.

  ‘Purvis has briefed me on all your adventures, but his academic background can sometimes be his downfall. Sometimes that’s the problem with a learned mind, lad, because it can overlook the trivial titbits that give a good story the substance it needs to make it great.’ The captain wiped crumbs from his moustache before he called the young housemaid, asking her to bring them a fresh brew of tea. As she left with the tray, he shook his head in disdain and mumbled, ‘Good ole Tayler. The world as we know it will be drearier without him.’

  ‘Aye, sir. Although he and I had a rocky start, a more forthright and genuine man would be hard to find.’

  ‘Indeed so, lad, indeed so. Like Mr Shakespeare wrote over a hundred years ago, he truly wore his heart on his sleeve, an example for all of us,’ contemplated Cutcliffe, before his need for the truth jolted him upright in his chair. ‘Now, Purvis has given me his account of what happened to the Deliverance, but now I would like to hear it from the ship’s captain, if that’s alright with you?’

  Tristan did not mind and got right into it. The Old Man did not flinch once when Tristan gave him the detailed account of the slaughtering, every single moment that he could recall and then, what the others had witnessed. Silently, the captain listened. Not even when Tayler and Hanlon’s names were mentioned, or how they had died, did the Old Man raise an eyebrow, but when Tristan mentioned the perpetrator’s name, the captain did so with grunted disgust, then let the young man finish his story.

  The Old Man was brazen in his response. ‘I know the little shit. To be more precise, I know his father better. I served with him in the Navy many years ago. Stewart Bradford. The man is a now-retired admiral, but a man who kissed every pair of white buttocks
in sight to reach the top, and when he finally did, the kissing of arses stopped, and he became one of the vilest and corruptible individuals I’ve ever come to know. He used the Royal Navy like it was his own fleet. Stewart Bradford was one of the reasons I left the Navy and became a merchant, lad.’ The maid interrupted their conversation, and after Cutcliffe had thanked her for the tea and enquired about dinner’s state of readiness, he poured them each another cup. ‘The German people have a saying, lad, “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree”, and in his case, it certainly didn’t fall far at all. That son of his inherited all the immoral character traits of his father and, from what I understand, has added a few of his own for good measure. And if your beating of him was half as good as Purvis has described, I fear that boy harbours a grudge that would’ve eaten away at his insides ever since.’

  ‘That’s most certainly the case, sir. Still, he obliterated the Deliverance and its crew. He needs to pay for his crime.’

  ‘Who else is privy to this information?’

  ‘Percy and the men who were on his ship, the few crew members I still have, and Mr Whyte, although I did request a vow of silence on the matter, telling him I would handle it myself.’

  ‘Christopher Whyte is a sensible and righteous man from what I hear. But being in the position he is in, it will only be a matter of time before his conscience kicks in, after which he will try to resolve the matter amicably. Let’s face it, son, right now he sits with a letter that, if left unattended, could make him subject to what you and I call revenge but what others might refer to as murder, so what exactly is your plan?’

  ‘Well sir, now that I’m considered dead I would like to use that to my advantage, find the bastard, set things right and head for the New World at the soonest, so my first order of business would be to track him down.’

  ‘And then what? Shoot him?’

  ‘I was hoping to be a little more inconspicuous, sir.’

  ‘Mmm,’ said Cutcliffe thoughtfully, and if Tristan had not spent that much time with him as a young child, he would have missed the brief twinkle in the captain’s eye. ‘Let us leave that for now. I understand you’re also in need of a ship, lad. Jamaica, is it?’

  ‘That’s correct, sir.’

  ‘If we’d been strangers, I probably would’ve whacked some sense into you by now, perhaps even tell you that with a young wife and child sailing into the unknown, you have no business in this place.’ The captain slurped his hot tea. ‘Luckily for you, I’m a feeble old fart now, one whose mighty sword has been replaced by a rather weak cup of tea. But I know too well that a man must occasionally silence the devils that dwell within before he can find peace again and move on with his life. I have no doubt you have given this some serious thought?’

  ‘I have indeed, sir. Back then, and now even more so, for the decision to travel here has cost me dearly and unveiled one mighty fiend that needs to be taken care of, no matter what the cost. His crime cannot go unpunished, sir.’

  The captain gave an uncomfortable shuffle in his chair. ‘You’re bound to find this out sooner or later, son, and I’m telling you this because it makes no difference whatsoever to your current circumstance. Understand?’

  ‘I guess so?’ What the hell is the Old Man on about?

  ‘Now, it may come as a surprise to you, but the French have delayed sending that armada of theirs down south. The squadron has been reassigned elsewhere, probably to help the Spanish out of the conundrum they constantly find themselves in.’

  ‘How do you know this, sir?’

  Cutcliffe could sense the dejection. ‘I still have my sources within the Navy.’ He saw the glumness quickly turn to horror.

  ‘I sent my wife and newborn to a faraway place, and ‘twas all for nothing?’

  Cutcliffe expected as much and raised his voice to snap the young man out of his downcast state. ‘This changes absolutely nothing! If life – or let’s put it in the hands of a higher being – if God wants you somewhere, you will end up there. You don’t ask questions. You just have faith and hope, and keep on going! If he needs you to go to Jamaica, you will end up there, whether you like the route he has taken you on or not. Perhaps he needed you to serve up a bit of righteousness here in London and get your affairs in order before you all head off into the blue yonder.’

  ‘Righteousness? At the expense of sixty souls?’

  ‘At the expense of a thousand souls, if needs be! It’s not our place to demand answers, son. Only to follow. None of it makes sense sometimes. God himself knows I’ve given up trying to understand his ways a long time ago. But as for faith and hope, I can assure you, lad, those are the only two things that have brought me here today – an old but otherwise happy man, who has led a full life.’ Then, as only a loving father could say onto his son, Cutcliffe said, ‘Lad, there was nothing else you could’ve done at the time, for you simply didn’t know.’

  Tristan was sitting silently as the guilt that had gnawed at him day and night started to dissipate like mist before a rising sun. Then he realised that the consolation, paired with an almost instantaneous relief, had come from hearing the captain utter those few simple words. There was nothing else you could’ve done at the time. He had purely acted based on what he had known at that moment, and as difficult as it might be to accept such a simplistic answer when the harrowing event seemed to require a far more intricate explanation, it was indeed just that simple. ‘Then ‘tis so,’ he muttered when his mind had finished churning through it all.

  ‘Good! Now get it out of your head once and for all. In the meantime, you let me find you a ship, lad. When Purvis told me what you needed, I put the feelers out to some of my old colleagues. At least, it’s one fewer problem to trouble you.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. Your help is much appreciated.’ Tristan reached into the satchel next to his chair with the captain gazing on inquisitively. ‘There’s one more order of business though. Here’s the money that I owe you as per our original agreement, with interest of course.’ He placed the heavy pouch onto the coffee table between the two seats. It was not often he had the privilege of seeing the Old Man surprised, and the special moment was not lost on Tristan. ‘The money with which you sponsored our endeavour?’ He pushed the pouch across to the Old Man. ‘Please, sir, open it. ‘Tis yours.’

  Cutcliffe’s ageing fingers struggled with leather strings on the pouch. ‘Purvis said you had lost everything?’

  ‘Only that which is not under sail to Jamaica. And then there was this, courtesy of a childhood well spent and some sound investment, the latter of which I can’t take any credit for.’

  Cutcliffe was astounded with what he saw. ‘Son, I never expected anything in return, and I really have no need for this.’ He almost felt like a criminal, given what the lad had gone through, but at the same time knew that it would mean much more to Tristan if he accepted the bag, as opposed to refusing it. ‘But we had a deal after all, and I even remember us shaking hands on the matter. So, as much as it pains me to accept this, I shall do as you wish.’ The words brought a smile to Tristan’s face for he too remembered that handshake vividly, including the excitement that the departure to the unknown had brought at the time. It was a stirring within oneself that grew stronger as the day drew nearer, and he was starting to feel it once again – knowing not much more than the direction he was supposed to travel in.

  ‘Perhaps we should shake hands now, sir, and bring the matter to a close.’

  It was when Tristan’s hand closed around his own that Cutcliffe realised that he was standing in the presence of a great young man with an impenetrable moral conscience. By now, many men would have cut their losses and run, but not this one. Tristan had come all this way to finish what he had started and the thought of not seeing what such a fine man might become one day pierced the captain’s heart with great pain, especially with his profligate son, whom he had lost forever to the corrupted world of politics. He pulled Tristan close and hugged him tightly, slapping him on the back
. ‘Good lad,’ was all he could muster, before he pushed himself away. ‘Perhaps it’s time for something stronger to celebrate this fortunate visit and commemorate the good times.’

  ‘Sounds good to me, sir,’ said Tristan, who himself had grown rather tired of tea and scones.

  ‘It will be dinner soon, and I insist that you join me. And if you have no other plans for the night, I’ll get Mary to prepare the guest bedroom.’

  Tristan had nowhere to go but back across the Thames or to the nearest inn, so he obliged.

  ‘Splendid,’ said Cutcliffe and called on the housemaid to arrange the necessary.

  They spent the rest of the evening eating and drinking while they talked and laughed as they reminisced, from Ravenport to their travels to the Far East. It was during the main course that the Old Man asked him. ‘I have this gala that I need to attend the day after tomorrow. Would you care to join me? The invitation did state two persons, and since I don’t have anyone particular in mind, and unless you have some other important matter to attend to, I can’t think of another person’s company I’d rather prefer.’ Then before Tristan could reply, he said, ‘I’m confident no one would recognise the wee snotty-nosed delivery boy from Southwark.’

  ‘Are you certain, sir? Surely, there are better companions than me. How about your son?’ asked Tristan hesitantly.

  The Old Man snorted. ‘That fool! No lad, don’t go and spoil what has so far been a perfectly good evening.’

  ‘What sort of event is this gala of yours, sir?’ asked Tristan, still uncertain and feeling slightly scorned that he had brought up the sensitive subject.

  ‘Ahhh, just some old colleagues of mine and their half-yearly gathering of sorts. I wasn’t planning on going, but now that I’ve found a suitable companion, there’s no harm in attending and trade a few stories of days gone by. Most men will bring their sons, as a rite of passage, and introduce them to the right people. You know this fickle business of ours, lad. It’s all about who you know. You’ll have a great time. Besides, the food and drink at this gala go beyond measure.’ Cutcliffe noted Tristan looking down at his chafed shoes and the sleeves of his coat. ‘No need to dress smartly. Just come as you are.’