Moon Cutters

by Janet Woods

  George gave him an approximate. They all knew how much the box held; any adjustments would be made in the long term, should they be needed.

  The man took a small wooden abacus from his pocket and did a rapid calculation. He named a price he was prepared to pay, then said, ‘I take it the amounts will be deposited to the usual three accounts?’

  Fletcher looked at George, who nodded at their visitor. The gold was transferred into two canvas sacks, and the book joined several others like it on a shelf.

  When the man gave a low whistle, two men came in and the gold was carried outside. So gently that they barely heard a scuffle, it was lowered into a dingy on the harbour side of the ship.

  The man smiled. ‘I have on me the deeds to Monksfoot Abbey. The quicker the purchase is finalized, the sooner you can take up residence, Fletcher. I can redirect the draft and witness your signature now if you like.’

  When Fletcher murmured his assent, the man pulled pen and inkstand towards him and wrote a figure on two bank drafts. He pushed the pieces of paper across the table. Fletcher took possession of the deeds and smiled. ‘It feels surprisingly good to own some property of my own at last.’

  ‘Congratulations on the purchase, Fletcher,’ the man said. ‘Even though Monksfoot Abbey is in need of some repair, you got it at a bargain price.’

  ‘Silas could have got more from my uncle for it.’

  ‘He could have, but he decided not to sell it to him. Somebody told him your uncle intended to pull the place down.’

  Fletcher grinned. ‘Sir James is given to odd notions at times. I believe Silas’s heir is in America doing missionary work, much to his disgust. According to him, the man’s got no intention of returning to Britain. Silas is disgruntled by the thought that his relative is a preacher, and the man intends to spend Silas’s hard-earned cash on the poor when he dies. However, kin is kin.’

  ‘Quite. However, not everything in this life always goes as planned.’ Sir Oswald took out his watch and gazed at it. ‘It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, sirs. I must warn you. I’ve heard you’re due a visit from our friends in about half an hour.’

  George said with a sigh, ‘Thanks … That’s ruined my plans for the evening.’

  And those of Fletcher, who looked at his watch and also heaved a sigh. ‘I hope they get it over with quickly so there’s still some light left. You go ashore, George. I’ll stay. You got a good thumping last time, I seem to recall, so it must be my turn. I do understand my uncle’s need to disrupt my life as often as possible, though. I wish I had the means to reciprocate.’

  George shrugged. ‘You won his share of the ship fair and square. I was there – and I wasn’t the only one who witnessed it. But you know as well as I do that this harassment will continue until one of you gives in. No … I’ll stay with you.’

  Unexpectedly, Oswald asked, ‘Will they find anything?’

  ‘It’s highly unlikely, but last time they ruined a couple of sails for no reason at all, and they cost a fortune to replace.’

  ‘Then I’ll stay, too. There is no man more respectable of reputation than I. You can pour us a brandy if you would, George. Fletcher, you can break out the cards.’

  It was not long before feet thumped across the deck and down the short ladder. The cabin doors were flung open with some force, and Fletcher found himself looking down the barrel of a pistol. He took a mildly indignant stance in case the owner of the pistol had a nervous trigger finger, and gazed up into a pair of steely blue eyes. ‘What the hell’s going on here?’

  ‘Customs. We’re looking for contraband.’

  Fletcher jerked his thumb at George Mainwaring. ‘The master of this ship is there. I’m merely the owner.’

  George didn’t even turn a hair. ‘The revenue men have already inspected the cargo in London. I have the certificate.’ George threw a card down on the deck and reached for several sovereigns. He slipped them into his waistcoat pocket. ‘I’m afraid you’re out, Sir Oswald.’

  ‘Damn and blast it, Captain; that’s the second time tonight. The interruption put me off my stroke.’ Sir Oswald looked up at the customs officer and scowled. ‘Oh, it’s you, is it, Mr Bailey? Haven’t you got a home to go to?’

  ‘I didn’t know you were on board the Midnight Star, sir.’

  ‘There’s no reason why you should know, is there? I should think it was none of your damned business. Point that gun somewhere else, would you; else I’ll haul you up in front of a magistrate for using threatening behaviour.’

  Bailey did as he was told. ‘I’m sorry, sir; we had a tip-off that the Midnight Star was carrying gold.’

  Fletcher stood, stretching lazily to his full height, a hard-muscled six feet. ‘Of course we were carrying gold. We’re licensed to do so by the Royal Mint. For obvious reasons, we usually keep such a consignment quiet. Would you mind telling me where you got your information from?’

  ‘I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say. Where is the gold now?’

  ‘I have no idea. Safely in the Royal Mint, I should imagine. Your informer forgot to tell you it was off-loaded in London early this morning.’

  Bailey lost his air of authority, and Fletcher almost felt sorry for the man. After a moment, he suggested, ‘Hurry up and do your search if you must. I intend to go ashore once I’ve won my money back from Mainwaring. Why don’t you join us? It’s your deal, isn’t it, Oswald?’

  ‘Let’s up the stakes, shall we, gentlemen?’ Sir Oswald expertly shuffled the cards and began to deal them.

  Bailey said quickly, ‘Count me out, Sir Oswald. I’ve got other business to take care of.’

  Sir Oswald didn’t look up. ‘What about your search, Bailey? I’ve received complaints from ship owners that you’ve been a little too zealous on occasion and have caused unnecessary damage. One or two are thinking of presenting a case before the magistrate’s court to seek redress. I’ve told them to count themselves lucky that we have an honest and fair man in charge of the port, and one who doesn’t court favours.’ Oswald gazed up at him, his eyes sharp. ‘You don’t court favours, do you, man?’

  Bailey fiddled with his cuffs for a moment. ‘Mistakes and accidents can occur from time to time, but one does one’s best. My men have a good record at catching the thieving bastards who bring illicit goods into the country without paying the due taxes.’ His mouth pinched with frustration. Being honest could be a liability since everyone knew that several of those working under Bailey were on the take. Then the man’s glance flicked to Fletcher and his eyes narrowed as he grated out, ‘Now I must go. Another time perhaps, Mr Taunt. Obviously I was given the wrong information this time. I must warn you, though: my pistol cannot tell the difference between a smuggler and a gentleman.’

  Sir Oswald gazed up at him. ‘Nor mine between an officer of the crown and a beggar. Are you threatening us?’

  Fletcher chuckled after Bailey turned on his heel and left. ‘There’s nothing more tedious than a man who justifies his faults by imagining he has more integrity in him than the other fellow, when really he just has less humanity. I sense my uncle’s hand behind this. I wonder what he’d do if they found something and threw me in jail.’

  George clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Sir James knows damn well you’ll never be caught, and he still wants his half of the ship back. If you were arrested for smuggling gold, he’d make sure he was the magistrate hearing the case, and he’d seize the Midnight Star.’

  Oswald chuckled. ‘Your uncle will have a fit when he discovers you’ve bought Monksfoot Abbey, lock, stock and barrel.’

  Grinning, Fletcher patted the deeds, now held safely in the deep, inside pocket of his waistcoat. Monksfoot wasn’t a large residence, but it was of comfortable size. He calculated that in another eighteen months or so, if his luck held, he’d have enough money to repair the place. I’m taking the dingy into Axe Cove. I’m going to tie her up next to the Wild Rose and say hello to Silas.’

  ‘Silas was hoping you’d visit.
Don’t put it off, because he has something he needs to say to you, and little time in which to say it.’

  ‘Likewise. I enjoy his company, and have done since I was a boy. I used to enjoy hearing about his travels then; now he enjoys hearing of mine, though mine are not as embellished as his. What about you, George? Come with me if you like.’

  ‘I’m going to seek out a pot of ale and a willing woman for a fond farewell, and in that order.’

  ‘Anyone I know?’

  George grinned. ‘Strike while the iron’s hot, I always say.’

  ‘Just be careful the iron doesn’t rise up and strike you first,’ he said.

  A thin mist vaporized from the cold grey surface of the sea, and Fletcher pulled his greatcoat around him as he made his way round the coast. The wind was fitful, his progress slow, and he wondered if he’d made a mistake in using the Midnight Star’s dingy. The light was fading rapidly as he rounded an outcrop of rock.

  As luck would have it, the tide turned and began to surge back towards the shore. The current carried him straight into Axe Cove. The small harbour was aptly named. Viewed from the top of the cliff, the cove was shaped like the head of the tool it had been named after. The narrow end was a deeper passage worn in the sea bed, and the blade end fanned out into a curving sandy beach.

  Where the cliff dipped towards the water, there was a jetty, and a track that meandered up towards Monksfoot Abbey and past the drying shed. A strong smell of seaweed lingered in the air. Axe Cove trapped the weed, especially after a storm. Gathered up by the villagers, it was soaked to rid it of salt, then dried in a long shed before being crushed and sold to farmers for fertilizer.

  Monksfoot Abbey came into sight. It was a solid, oblong building with a coach-house and stables off to one side. It had an air of secrecy about it. As he strode along the track, a light appeared in the porch and a pair of dogs headed towards him, barking rustily. They were well past their prime and had never been blessed with proper names. They were known as Dog and Dog.

  He stopped, allowing them to inhale his scent and recognize him as friend or foe. As they nosed at his ankles, their tails began to wag. Only then did he take the liberty of fondling their ears. When he got closer, a man with a pistol trained on him stepped from the gloomy depths of the porch. ‘Identify yourself.’

  ‘Fletcher Taunt … I’ve bought the place.’ Fletcher patted his pocket, reassuring himself. ‘I have the deeds to Monksfoot here, with my name on it, and not a penny owing.’

  ‘Aye, so I’d heard.’

  ‘So soon? I’ve just finalized the transaction. How are you, Tom?’

  ‘Fair to middling, I reckon. The cold gets to your bones this time of year. I thought it might be you, Mr Taunt. We saw the Midnight Star sail past earlier. Silas said he hoped you’d come to see him tonight.’

  ‘Can you manage a meal and a bed?’

  ‘Reckon so, seeing you own the place now.’

  ‘How is Silas? I hear he’s been poorly. I thought to share a jar and a tale with him.’

  Tom Pepper grinned widely. ‘He’s as sour as a witch’s tit and hates being confined to bed. There’s life in the old dog yet, though, especially now he knows he won’t have to leave his home to a stranger. Got instructions for you about his funeral, too.’

  ‘Which are?’

  ‘He wants to be tied to the mast of the Wild Rose and be towed out into the channel and set fire to. He’s reckoned the times and tides, and tells me his ashes will float back into the cove if you do it right. That way he’ll be able to keep an eye on you.’

  Fletcher chuckled. ‘I’ll have to try to talk the old fool out of that one. I don’t want him floating around the place telling me what to do every five minutes. Besides, the Wild Rose is too sweet a lugger to waste on a funeral.’

  ‘He thought you’d say that, but it won’t hurt to humour the bugger. He wants to take Dog and Dog with him for company.’

  ‘We can use the old dingy instead. It’s been beached for over a year, so a small amount of encouragement and it should go up like a torch.’

  Five minutes later, Fletcher greeted Silas with as much cheerfulness as he could muster. ‘The best you’ll get from me is to wrap you in your shroud, take you out into the channel in the dingy and bury you at sunset. I might take the preacher to say a sermon over you, as well.’

  ‘Do that and I’ll come back to life and kick the pair of you overboard,’ Silas growled.

  Fletcher was shocked by the change in Silas. He couldn’t be more than sixty, but he’d lost weight and his cheeks had sunk over his bones. Fletcher could almost hear his lungs flapping for air against his rib cage, and his breathing was painful to listen to. He looked like a skeletal child in the large four-poster bed. It was plain to see the Grim Reaper had placed his mark on him.

  ‘I get tired of lying here.’ He grimaced as he shifted from one hip to the other. ‘I can’t eat, I can’t pee, and I can’t … well, never mind. Just thinking about women hurts. All I can do is fart. It feels as though rats are chewing away at my guts. And I hate having nobody to talk to.’ Silas gazed at him through eyes filled with pain and fatigue, his manner all at once piteous. ‘Will you stay a few days, Fletcher?’

  Fletcher felt sorry for the old man, who seemed desperate for company. ‘I can stay longer. George can manage to sail the Midnight Star without me, especially on the American run. After all, he’s the one in possession of the seamanship qualifications. If you like, he could inform your nephew of your illness – bring him back, perhaps.’

  ‘Nay, lad … the man won’t be coming here to visit.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable, Silas?’

  ‘Apart from shooting me through the head like you would a worn-out nag? Take me out on the Wild Rose tomorrow. I want to smell the salt and feel the wind on my face just one more time. I asked Tom to take me over to Cherbourg on the next run, but the miserable old bugger refused.’

  ‘We could go into Poole, and Tom can come with us to help sail her, but only if the snow lets up. George Mainwaring will need the ship’s dinghy back before he sails. I’ll ask the doctor if you’re fit—’

  ‘Sod the doctor. He can’t cure me; he just fills me up with laudanum to keep me quiet. The medical fraternity like their patients to die in a dignified manner and without kicking up a fuss.’ Silas plucked at Fletcher’s sleeve like a magpie. ‘What did Oswald say to you?’

  ‘Nothing I didn’t already know. He took my payment for Monksfoot and gave me the deeds. Bailey came sniffing around, looking for trouble, but with Sir Oswald there he couldn’t do much. I think Bailey is in the pay of my uncle.’

  ‘Could be, but I doubt it. Simon Bailey is as straight as they come. He’s always been a loyal servant to the law. Take my advice, Fletcher. Heal the rift with your uncle before it’s too late and get him out of the smuggling business. It’s getting out of hand. Bailey is one of the new type of law enforcers. He’s an outsider who doesn’t have an emotional connection to the Dorset coast or our local customs. And the authorities are getting tougher. They’d shoot you in the back first and ask the questions afterwards. Give your uncle his half of the ship back. He bought the Midnight Star to give you and your mother a legitimate income.’

  ‘I will … when he apologizes for calling me a cheat.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter which of you is in the wrong. You’re all he’s got. He brought you up and you owe him some respect.’

  ‘He gets all the respect he deserves. I’ve put aside the money he would have earned from the Midnight Star. It’s in the bank under his name, so if anything happens to me, he won’t be able to accuse me of stealing from him. As for giving up the game, I intend to, Silas, just as soon as I’ve earned enough to repair this place and give me something to fall back on. It should take me another eighteen months or so to get on my feet.’

  ‘You’re just as stubborn as he is, but he’s a wiley old fox.’

  ‘Aye, Silas, there’s no doubt t
hat I am. He taught me well.’

  ‘There’s more to running an estate than house and land. You need a woman to warm your bed and children to feed your soul. They’re like pups. They rely on you, take all you can give them and love you in return.’ His eyes took on a dreamy look. ‘When all’s said and done, it’s people who matter … not fame and fortune. Family turns an ordinary man into a good man who knows how to love and forgive.’

  ‘But a man needs to be able to earn the means to provide for them.’ Remembering that Silas had lost his wife and two children to typhoid, he said, ‘But aye, you’re right, at that.’

  ‘Then you’ll reconcile with your uncle?’

  ‘I’ll think on it, Silas.’ He grinned at him. ‘I come here to pay you a visit and in five minutes you’ve already arranged a pleasure cruise for yourself, a wife and a litter of youngsters for me, and a reconciliation with my uncle. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a woman hiding in the cellar waiting to be carried off. Now, stop nagging me and get some rest.’

  ‘Time enough for that when I’m dead.’ Silas yawned. ‘Come to think of it, I am a bit weary. Go and explore your new home, lad; everything in it is yours, including the dust and dog turds. At least I can die knowing Monksfoot is in good hands. And Fletcher …’ Silas said when he reached the door. ‘I forgot to mention earlier that my nephew in America has died. One of those redskins he was trying to convert had the good sense to fire an arrow through him. Apparently, it went in one ear and out through the other.’

  A huff of laughter escaped from Fletcher. ‘Please accept my condolences, if you feel you have need of them.’

  ‘I don’t. I just want you to know that I’ve made you my heir.’

  Fletcher turned to stare at the man, wondering if he’d heard that right. ‘Say that again, in words I can understand.’

  ‘You heard, all right. I had to leave it to someone. Apart from Tom, who’s already been taken care of, and the lawyer man, you’re the only one who knows that I’ve made you my heir.’

  ‘What I want to know is why, Silas?’