“Oh, Davy!” she said, caught between joy and sorrow, tears still filling her eyes.
He stroked her hair lovingly. “We will make a world of our own. A world strong enough to hold up against all the other ugliness and cruelties.”
“Davy!” she whispered.
“I need you so!” He said huskily.
And then he was in the bed beside her, holding her in his arms. She vaguely realized he was naked as he pressed his lips fiercely to hers and at the same time carressed her body. He helped her slip off her nightgown so that finally their nude bodies were in full contact.
Her breathing became more rapid, and she knew that the longings she had so often repressed could not be held back now. It was like a floodburst of emotions! He murmured her name in her ear, and then she felt him penetrating her. She gave a small anguished moan which was soon to turn to strong breathing as they frantically moved through the act of love! All other thoughts were vanished from her mind.
It ended in a great feeling of satisfaction and content. She and Davy lay close together long after the actual loving had ended. They fell asleep in each other’s arms. And he woke her to tell her of his love and to kiss her gently again before he left for work at the docks.
She afterwards felt that this initiation to love saved her sanity. It made things clear; she felt she could cope with them. And she knew that soon she and Davy would be married and build that haven of a life together far from the troubles of the everyday world. She did not know whether Mrs. Crown or Luther guessed that Davy had come to comfort her in a physical way. If they did, they gave no hint of it.
For her own part, she did not feel in any way betrayed by his making love to her. They were soon to marry.
She even managed a warm smile for him when he appeared at the bar that night. She whispered, “I’ve thought of you all day.”
He nodded. “And I of you.”
“Forgive me for being such a child,” she said. “But Peg is so dear to me. I think I can face it now and continue until I’m able to help her in some way.”
“That’s more like my Becky,” the seaman said approvingly.
The evening was a busy one, and among the many customers was little Jimmy Davis. The dwarf had learned of Peg’s running away and was in a melancholy frame of mind.
“She should not have done this to, you,” the bearded little man said sadly.
Becky told him, “I’m determined to find her.”
“I pray that you do,” Jimmy said and ordered another whiskey.
In fact he ordered too many whiskies, so he was finally in a sadly drunken state. Davy went over to Becky as she waited for the barman to fill her tray with drinks and told her, “He’s in desperate shape. There’s nothing for it but to help him home. I’ll see to it at once and be back by closing time.”
“I’ll be waiting for you,” she promised. “Take care!” She said the last urgently, as she still had fears of Alfie’s revenge.
Closing time came and Davy had not returned. Luther stood by the entrance door of the tavern ready to lock it. He eyed Becky who was waiting there and said, “I have to lock up. It’s time!”
“I know,” she said. “But Davy isn’t back.”
“Maybe he found a card game,” the bar owner suggested. “You know he can’t resist a gamble.”
“I don’t think so,” she said hesitantly. “Jimmy got drunk, and he took him home. He intended to come straight back. That was hours ago.”
Mrs. Crown came up to them with a wise look on her warty face. She said in a kindly tone, “You go to your bed, my dear. It’s not unusual for young men to take a night out on the town now and then. You’ll find he’s all right tomorrow.”
“That’s the truth!” her husband agreed.
“Very well,” she said, not wanting to keep them any longer. But when she reached her room, she did not undress but lay down on the top of the bed to wait. Eventually she dropped asleep and came to only at the sound of a loud knocking on the street door.
By the time she wakened and was on her feet and out to the hallway, a nightgown clad Luther was already on his way to the door with a candle in his hand. Seeing her, he gave her a warning glance.
“Keep back,” he said. “It could be thieves!”
“It may be Davy drunk,” she worried.
“He’d not rouse us this way,” the old man with the candle protested. And nearing the door, he called out, “What do you want? Who is it?”
A faint voice on the other side, said, “Jimmy! It’s me, Jimmy Davis!”
“Jimmy Davis?” Luther turned to give her a questioning look.
“The dwarf,” she said, going to the old man. “The one who drank too much and Davy had to see home!”
With some reluctance Luther Crown drew back the door bolt and threw the door open to the foggy night. A pitiful sight presented itself to them in the figure of a battered Jimmy Davis. The little man’s face was cut in many places, and his clothes looked as if he’d been rolling about in some filthy gutter.
He said, “I’m near dead!” And he stumbled forward almost collapsing.
“I’ll get some brandy,” old Luther said and told her, “You help him into the kitchen.” And with that he hurried ahead, the candle still in his hand.
She gave the dwarf some support and led him down the dark hall. “Davy! Where is Davy?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he moaned.
“What do you mean?” she asked frantically.
“My head! I can’t think!” the little man said as he seemed ready to collapse.
“Don’t give way,” she told him. “Luther will have some brandy for you in a moment.” And she helped him into the kitchen. He sat on the stone shelf before the fireplace.
Luther brought him the brandy and put it in his little hand. “Drink it down, it will help you!” he instructed the dwarf.
Little Jimmy gobbled the drink down and then coughed loudly for a second or two. Then he moaned and held his big head in his tiny hands. “They came at us in the darkness,” he moaned.
“Who?” Becky demanded.
He looked up at her with his woeful, bruised face and said, “I don’t know! I was the worse for drink!”
“Where were you attacked?” the bar owner asked.
“Just a block form the tavern,” the dwarf said. “They came out of an alley. There must have been four of them!”
Becky gave Luther Crown an anguished look. “I knew Alfie Bard would get even somehow!”
Luther gave her a motion to be silent and asked the dwarf, “What happened?”
“Davy put up a good fight and I did what I could,” the little man said unhappily. “One of them picked me up and threw me in the alley like an old sack!”
“What about Davy?” she asked.
“He was still fighting them and doing a good job when I passed out,” Jimmy Davis said.
“And when you came to?” Luther questioned.
“Just a while ago. The street was silent. No sign of them or Davy or anyone! I was afraid to go any further, so I came back here.”
She told Luther, “Davy wouldn’t have deserted him if he were all right!”
“Don’t think the worst,” Luther implored her. And he asked the dwarf, “Do you remember anything else about them? Did they say anthing you overheard?”
“I’m not sure,” the dwarf worried. “I was awful drunk. But I thought one of them said to me, ‘He won’t do for for Australia!’ And then he laughed and picked me up and threw me in the alley!”
“Do you think any bones were broken?” Luther asked.
“No. But my head is in pain, and I need to rest,” the dwarf said. “And my mother and sisters are bound to be worried about me!”
“They’ll have to wait until morning. You can go back to them after daylight,” Luther said.
“I’ll have to go to work then,” the little man worried. “I’ll send them a message from work.”
“You won’t be fit to work,�
� she chided him.
The little man gazed up at her gloomily. “When you’re employed by Gregg & Kerr, you report for work, or you don’t have a job!”
Luther said, “You’d better rest in the room that Davy has rented. I’ll wake you early in the morning.”
So it was arranged. She spent a sleepless night worrying that Davy might be dead, murdered by the thugs at the order of Alfie Bard. Perhaps his body was dropped in the river or was hidden in some alley. She prayed it might be only that he was too injured to get word to her, that someone might have found him and taken him home or to one of the hospitals.
In the morning Luther Crown went out early to try and get word of the missing Davy. Little Jimmy, still in a sad state, limped off to work at the shipyard. At Luther’s request she remained waiting in the house with Mrs. Crown.
It was a long, worrisome two hours before a gaunt-faced Luther Crown returned. He confronted her in the kitchen, saying, “I’ve found out what happened to poor Davy.”
“Tell me!” she said, scarcely daring to breathe.
He said soberly, “You must be brave. There was a group of shanghaiing seamen last night—led by one of the known thugs along the warterfront, a crony of Alfie Bard’s.”
“I knew he was mixed up in it!” she gasped.
“They set upon Davy almost as soon as he and the dwarf left the tavern,” Luther said. “They knocked Davy unconscious and took him away. At this very moment he’s on a ship bound for Australia. That is, if he’s still alive.”
“You think he may be dead?” Becky asked brokenly.
“I’m afraid you’d better accept it,” Luther said sadly. “The man who told me about it swore me to not betray him before he’d talk. But he claimed Davy put up such a fight they were rougher with him than they should have been. They collected their fee for turning him over to the captain of the ship, but they all agreed it was a dead seamen they’d sold him, not a live one!”
Becky listened in a state of shock, unable to summon tears. She went to her room and sat there, she couldn’t organize her thoughts. Later Mrs. Crown came and told her she might have the night off. She made no reply, still staring blankly ahead of her. Only when the shadows of night came did she begin to cry.
CHAPTER 4
Almost twelve months had gone by since the night of Davy’s murder. She had come to think of it as that, and mourned his death as any true wife might mourn her man. They had not been before the preacher, but they would have been had he lived. So she felt right in her mourning for him. The Crowns were sympathetic, as were the regular customers of the tavern.
In all this time there had been no word of Peg or the wicked Alfie Bard. But Becky had not given up hope of finding her sister and saving her. She let this be the motivation for her continuing to live and work. Every penny of her tips was placed in a new tin box, and she felt it might not be too long before she could make a trip to Paris and try and locate the missing Peg.
Jimmy Davis came regularly to the tavern and he was much against her going to seek out Peg. He advised her, “She went of her own accord. So let it be.”
“I can’t,” she said. “However foolishly she has acted, she is still my sister.”
“You’ll get no thanks,” the dwarf warned her. “And you might even place yourself in danger. If Davy were alive, he would not approve of it.”
Her smile was bitter. “But Davy is not alive, so that changes everything doesn’t it?”
The little man stared up at her shrewdly, his beer glass in hand, as he said, “It’s Alfie you’re after, isn’t it? You want to settle your score with him for what he had done to poor Davy!”
“That may be part of it,” she admitted. “But I do want to help Peg if I can.”
It was the summer of 1862 and while the winter had been unusually cold, this summer which followed it was sweltering. The crowded tavern was hot and filled with fetid air each night. There were times when she felt she couldn’t stand the heat and noise. But she had come to be fond of Luther and his wife, and did not want to leave them to break in new help in this difficult time. She decided to continue on.
To try and cool off, she took long walks in the daytime, her parasol carried prettily over her straw bonnet while she wore a new blue linen suit which was her best. Often she went in the direction of the docks to watch the great ships tied up there and those at anchor out in the river. Most of the sailing ships now had some sort of steam auxiliary engine. Some of the great vessels had paddle wheels amid-ships, and many ships of iron were showing themselves. The talk was that the day of the wooden ship was limited.
She had heard from many of the men who worked for Gregg & Kerr, that the shipyard was on the point of bankruptcy because the partners could not agree about building the new iron ships. Old man Kerr was determined to continue with wooden vessels since they had made the firm’s name. But the younger, Mark Gregg, was just as certain that iron ships were the thing of the future. They were faster and safer.
It was seventeen years since the Great Britain had been launched, and now the superiority if iron ships was no longer in question. Further, paddle wheels were being supplanted by screw propellers, a means of propulsion thought to be better than paddle wheels and much more speedy.
But shipping people and seamen were still divided in their views. The superiority of the iron ships with screw propellers was questioned when the 1600 ton City of Glasgow sank in 1854 after sailing from Liverpool. There were 480 on board and it was never heard of again. But ships continued to be built of iron and used the new method of propulsion.
In 1858 Brunei built the Great Eastern at Midwall—it slid into the Thames to be the largest ship afloat, a record it held for thirty years! It was built of iron, had paddle wheels and a screw propeller as well. It was 700 feet long and had a tonnage of 19,000. Some claimed she was ahead of her time, but all began to agree that ships of iron were the vessels of the future.
Becky had seen the Great Eastern. Her father had taken Peg and her to the docks to see it floating down the Thames in stately splendor. She could still recall five tall smokestacks and its five graceful masts; it had been partly under sail at the time. Her father had pointed out the paddle wheel and the propeller. The great size of the ship in contrast to those around her made them gasp! Becky tried to count the many portholes along its side and couldn’t begin to! And then they marvelled at the patriotic design on its stern. It had been an afternoon she would always remember.
Now she strolled along the wharves past the red brick offices of Gregg & Kerr to a spot overlooking the giant shipyard. There was only one small ship on the stays under construction. And this underlined the fact that the company was in some trouble.
In the distance the Houses of Parliament, St. Paul’s, and other London landmarks stood high in the sky, blue against the fleecy white and blue clouds. In the shipyard the small ship under construction looked lost; the yard was capable of building much larger craft. Men swarmed around the partially finished sailing ship like ants. And she thought with some bitterness that was how they must look to Mark Gregg, who certainly had no more regard for their lives than people generally had for the lives of ants.
She could never forget the day he had tossed six golden sovereigns to her in payment for her father’s life. She had thrown them at him and she would do it again if he made the same gesture. She blamed him, to a good extent, for what had happened to Peg. If they had not been driven by poverty to seek work at the tavern, Peg would never have met a man like Alfie Bard.
And she might never have met Davy. She could not deny that she had been lucky in her meeting and romance with Davy Brown. It would always be a sweet memory for her, no matter what fortunes life might deal her. Even if she loved again, Davy would always have a place in her heart. And she would never forgive Mark Gregg for what happened to her father, Peg, and to Davy. In a strange way, all these things were somehow linked with the shipbuilding firm. And for her the firm would always suggest a vision of that grim,
square-jawed man behind his mahogany desk, unyielding and uncaring.
It began to shower heavily in the afternoon and Becky, along with all of London, was grateful for the break in the strange hot spell. She hurried back to Number Eight to rest a little before the evening’s work began. She had learned to do this in her year alone.
The rain continued through the evening, and the tavern was much more comfortable because of the cooling rain outside. The air had cleared, and a goodly number of the regular patrons were assembled in the big room. At mid-evening Becky changed to the role of entertainer and sang some familiar sea chanties which proved popular. Then she went back to carrying the heavy trays of drinks.
As it neared closing time and the crowd had thinned out, the door opened and a man came in. He paused in the doorway and gazed sternly about the big room. Apparently satisfied that it was safe to enter, he came in. His walk was unsteady, indicating he’d been drinking heavily, and he was well-dressed in a blue jacket and fawn trousers. He wore a blue top hat; he was clearly not of the usual tavern class.
All eyes were fixed on the well-dressed man as he went to take his place at the bar and order a whiskey. Luther poured him out a drink and said respectfully, “The best whiskey in the house for you, Mr. Gregg!”
Mark Gregg’s stern face showed a thin smile, “You know me, then?”
“Yes, sir,” Luther said in the same polite fashion. “I once worked in the yards.”
“Everyone has!” Mark Gregg said and downed the drink. “Another, please!” He rapped on the bar for service.
Luther set the drink before the shipyard owner almost immediately. “We are honored by your patronage, Mr. Gregg,” he said humbly.
Mark Gregg offered him an icy smile. “I expect you are,” he observed complacently. Then he started on this new drink.
His entrance in the saloon had created a lot of attention. Becky made a point of avoiding the well dressed man slouching against the bar mid way along it. A number of the other patrons were whispering about Gregg and pointing him out. She noticed that a tough-looking group of four near the door seemed to be extremely interested in the wealthy man.
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