The Hungry Tide

by Valerie Wood

  ‘Tha thinks me honest – well, I’ll tell thee, until yesterday there was no-one more honest or trustworthy, but poverty and hunger can do strange things to a man’s mind as well as his belly. Tha must look for someone else – but I would defy thee to find anyone in this town who hasn’t given in to temptation at some time or other. If I could only stop Father Time and go back and undo what’s been done,’ he said finally, ‘then I would accept poverty and hardship as my lot in life, rather than live with my wretched conscience – even though it’s hard to see my wife and bairns going hungry.’

  ‘Then that is what must be done.’ John had listened in silence to Will’s outpourings, asking only an occasional question.

  ‘What must be done?’ The other was only half listening.

  ‘We’ll undo what is already done.’ John spoke quickly as the idea formed. ‘We’ll take back the stolen goods to where they belong, if you still have them, that is?’

  ‘We? There’ll be no “we”. I said I wouldn’t involve thee!’

  ‘But – don’t you see, if I help you it will be easier. I can get a horse and waggon without suspicion, and I know the house, I’ve been several times on visits with my aunt. We can leave the sacks near to the house where they will be found.’ He smiled grimly. ‘And my social influence could come in useful should we by some mischance be caught, for there is no doubt that my word as a gentleman would be believed when I explained the sorry circumstances, whereas, my friend, I’m sorry to say, yours would not!’

  Maria had viewed Will suspiciously when he had tried to persuade her to run some paltry errand for him and take the children with her.

  ‘I know tha’s up to summat, Will Foster, I can sense it and I don’t like it. Tha’s been acting very strange for ’last few days.’

  ‘Just go, love, trust me, and I might have some good news for thee soon.’ He put his arms around her and she felt the stirrings of hope and the awareness of his returning confidence.

  ‘Be careful, Will.’ Again she warned him and looked anxiously back at him as she gathered up Alice and Tom and went out into the descending dusk.

  He was concerned that he shouldn’t be noticed as he moved the sacks outside into the entry. Francis hadn’t been seen, he was obviously keeping out of sight for a few days, but his mother, Mrs Morton, never missed a trick, and Will could hear her moving about upstairs.

  The entry was narrow with six houses in it, three on either side facing each other. Should the occupants lean out from the topmost rooms then they could shake each other by the hand quite easily. At the widest end of the entry was the opening leading out into the busy thoroughfare of Blanket Row and the direction of the Market Place, and at the opposite end, where the house walls tapered together, was a thin slit, just big enough for a man to get through. Why this entrance was there no-one knew, but it was assumed that it had been used at some time by smugglers, for it led through into the Ropery and down to the river.

  It was here that Will piled the sacks and slipped quietly through the gap, his hands on the walls for support. He peered cautiously out and saw John pacing about in the now quiet street, a horse and waggon tethered nearby.

  He gave a low whistle and John turned round, startled.

  ‘Where did you come from?’ He had been unaware of the hidden entrance and wondered why Will had chosen this meeting place. The scheme was already assuming a suggestion of intrigue. When he had asked the foreman for the use of a waggon for a few hours, the man had looked at him questioningly. ‘A waggon, Mr John, doesn’t tha want a driver?’ John in a flash of inspiration had winked impudently, and the storeman, as he had intended, misconstrued his intentions and surmised that young Mr John was at last becoming a man of the world and wanted the vehicle for some night-time jollifications, and had nodded approvingly.

  Together they placed the sacks into the high-sided waggon and Will climbed in with them and stretched out on the floor.

  ‘Take ’side roads,’ he said. ‘And don’t drive too fast, we don’t want to be noticed.’

  He guessed, rightly, that John was beginning to enjoy the escapade and though he was well intentioned, any rash move could spell disaster for them both.

  They left the town and once out on the country road Will slid out of the back of the waggon and up on to the seat at the side of John.

  ‘Shall I take ’reins for a bit? If there’s a chance of my becoming a country man then I need to show thee my skills with a hoss and waggon!’

  This time the driving was more hazardous. The road was muddy and in parts little more than a track. The ruts were deep and waterlogged as there had been steady rain during the afternoon, while the waggon was much heavier than the cart had been. Will found that he had to use the whip increasingly to keep the horse moving.

  ‘We can’t risk taking hoss and ’waggon down that lane. If we get stuck we’ll never get out again. We’ll have to leave them on ’road and hope that no-one sees them.’

  ‘Let’s hope that the clouds don’t lift for there’s a full moon due tonight and that will give the game away.’ They whispered now as they manoeuvred the horse and waggon under the trees. ‘I’m wondering whether it would be a good idea to take the horse with us. We could get there in half the time if you rode him and carried some of the sacks, and I’ll carry the others?’

  Will agreed, and after uncoupling the horse from the traces John cupped his hands to help Will mount. He found that he could manage three sacks and John took the other and walked alongside.

  ‘Poor old Prince, what an indignity,’ John laughed. ‘He’s never been used as a pack horse before. Just as well he can’t carry tales.’

  ‘Shh, don’t tempt providence, and keep tha voice down. Sounds carry a long way!’

  They continued their journey in silence until they reached the same spot by the bank where Will had waited previously.

  ‘I’ll have to go alone now, Will. I can move faster. I’ll take two sacks and then come back for the others.’

  He threw the sacks up to the top of the bank and scrambled up after them. ‘Wish me luck,’ he said in a hoarse whisper and disappeared out of sight.

  Will started to count. He reckoned it would take John no more than ten minutes to get across the estate, find a suitable place to leave the sacks and five minutes to run back and collect the remaining ones. With luck we could be out of here in half an hour and home before midnight, he mused, and then all I have to do is deal with Francis Morton!

  John arrived back breathless. ‘So far, so good,’ he gasped. ‘They’re having a house party, so the Beaumonts are obviously home again. I hope they’ll be too engrossed to notice any noise from outside, and there’s no sign of the dogs that you mentioned.’

  As John ran once more across the Beaumont field, the sacks buffeted painfully against his legs. He had never before thought of himself as adventurous, and yet danger seemed to seek him out. After being half drowned in the icy seas, he was now risking incarceration, or worse, transportation, for handling stolen merchandise. Although he had spoken confidently of the magistrates believing in his honesty and integrity, he only half believed it himself, being inclined to think that should they be caught, the law would believe that he was involved with a den of thieves.

  The Beaumonts’ house was double-fronted with central steps leading to the entrance, and on either side were windows with shutters not yet closed against the night. Through those on the left he could see a small gathering of people, including some military officers in uniform, and on the right, servants were putting the finishing touches to the dining table. There was a splendid array of silver and glassware, and unconsciously he echoed Francis Morton’s views that the stolen goods would barely be missed.

  He had placed the first two sacks at the side of the entrance and had just done the same with the second two, and was preparing to run once more across the wide lawn, when he heard the rattle of wheels and a coach turned into the drive and rolled up to the steps.

  He crouched bac
k against the wall but, his curiosity getting the better of him, he peered over the steps to see who was arriving. As he did so he leaned rather too heavily against the sacks and with a slithering sound they toppled over. It was not a loud noise but unfortunate that as they fell, the occupants of the coach descended and turned towards the sound. The front door was opened at the same instant and a gentleman from the coach called out in some surprise, ‘I say, I believe that somebody is skulking about down here!’

  John waited no longer, now wasn’t the time for formal introductions or explanations, and keeping his face averted and his head down he ran as fast as his legs would take him across the lawn and through into a small copse before the people at the door had recovered from the shock of seeing him there.

  As he ran the moon appeared from behind the clouds, its brightness highlighting the lawn into pale silver and etching his shadow long and thin behind him. He could hear the sound of raised voices and knew that it would only be a matter of minutes before the alarm was raised and someone would be after him. His saving grace, he thought, would be the discovery of the sacks with the stolen goods. Someone would be sure to want to examine them. However, he was bothered about the officers, who would almost certainly have arrived on horseback, and who would very soon be saddled up and into the chase.

  He slithered down the bank, landing in a heap almost under the hooves of Prince who shied away, startled. ‘Give me a hand up quickly.’

  Will put out his hand and with a great leap John was hoisted up on to the horse’s back behind him.

  ‘Let’s go as sharp as we can, or we are in real trouble.’

  As they galloped back down the lane, John was thankful that they hadn’t brought the waggon, for the ground was soft and muddy and they would surely have been bogged down. He felt also that if the soldiers came after them, the likelihood was that they wouldn’t know the area or of the existence of this little lane which was nothing more than a narrow cart track, and would go the long way round, meeting up with the other road at a point nearly a mile from where they had hidden the waggon.

  ‘Are you willing to take another chance, Will, I think with some degree of success?’ They were feverishly coupling up the waggon, their fingers fumbling clumsily in the dark in their haste.

  ‘Huh, one more won’t make a lot of difference. What has tha in mind?’

  ‘I would like to risk driving along the coach road if we reach it in time. If anyone should see us they’re not likely to suspect that we’re on the run if we are driving on the main highway, but will more probably think that we are on legitimate business.’

  Will laughed, ‘I’d say tha’s wasted in whaling, John. I reckon tha should join ’French Revolution, they need clever people like thee!’

  ‘In all seriousness I have already considered it,’ John replied with a grim note in his voice as they moved off. ‘But my problem lies in choosing sides. Although I abhor all the violence that is being committed by the Paris mob, my sympathies still lie with the common people, who in my opinion have suffered for far too long.’

  They had been on the highway no more than ten minutes when they heard the sound of hoofbeats coming up fast behind them. Will turned to look, and in the moonlight saw two riders bearing down swiftly upon them. He pulled on the reins as they drew alongside and called out in mock anger, ‘Go steady there. What’s tha hurry?’

  The two officers sat high on their mounts, one on each side of Prince.

  ‘What’s your business out here?’ one of them asked.

  John leaned forward. ‘What seems to be the trouble, sir. Can I help you?’

  ‘Oh – sorry to bother you, sir, but we are on the lookout for a thief.’ The soldier was obviously nonplussed by John’s manner and accent.

  ‘I see, and you thought that you had found him? Well, I’m sure that the driver won’t mind if you look in the back of his waggon.’

  Will shrugged his shoulders and feigned indifference.

  ‘That won’t be necessary, sir. I can see that there is no-one there.’ He looked more closely at John. ‘Could I ask what brings you out on the road tonight?’

  ‘Certainly,’ John replied cheerfully. ‘My horse went lame on the other side of Beverley and this good fellow here offered me a ride home.’

  He leaned towards the officer confidentially and lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘It will cost me something, I expect, but I didn’t want to wait for the coach. I need to be home before midnight.’

  ‘I understand, sir, I am a family man myself.’

  The other officer had been observing Will closely and beckoning to him said sharply, ‘You. Step down a minute.’

  Will turned in surprise towards him and shuffled along to the edge of the seat. He took off the sack which had been covering his legs. ‘Aye, I will, but tha’ll have to give me a hand to get up again.’

  The soldier saw then his disability. ‘Your pardon. I didn’t realize. It’s just that the man we were looking for is seemingly quite tall, and I thought that you fitted the description. But obviously it couldn’t possibly be you.’

  Will took up the reins again and prepared to move off. ‘If there’s nowt else?’ he said sullenly.

  ‘By the way,’ John asked, ‘what has this villain stolen?’

  The officers shifted uneasily. ‘Well,’ said one, ‘he hasn’t exactly stolen anything. As a matter of fact, he brought something back.’

  John sat silently, gazing at the two officers, then slowly he nodded his head and smiled quizzically. ‘What kind of a thief would bring something back? Some kind of jape, is it? Or perhaps he’s diverting you whilst he’s up to some other mischief?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir, but I regret having bothered you. I trust you won’t be too late home.’

  They were anxious to be off, back to the delights of food and wine and feminine company, and with more apologies they wheeled about and galloped back the way they had come.

  Maria was uneasy. Something was happening that Will didn’t want her to know about. He had wanted her out of the way at all costs. He had been irritable and tense all the evening, constantly going to the window and looking up at the small patch of sky which could be seen above the houses at the opposite side of the entry. She knew better than to harass him with questions. To choose an ill-timed moment might unleash a sudden explosion of exasperation, a thunderous flashpoint which once set free would then melt away as instantly as it had appeared, leaving him as penitent as a rebuked child.

  She took Alice by the hand and Tom ran in front of her as they made their way towards the apothecary’s shop in the market place.

  ‘Will needs something for ’soreness on his leg, Mr Dobson. It’s still giving him a lot of pain and it hasn’t healed properly.’

  ‘Try to get fresh comfrey leaves, they’re the finest poultice of all,’ said the man. ‘They reduce the swelling and help the wound to knit, but I’m afraid that I haven’t any in stock.’

  He reached up to the shelves which lined the walls of his tiny shop, and from amongst the coloured bottles and stone jars there, took down a large bottle and poured some of the contents into a smaller one.

  ‘Try this rosemary oil and see if it helps, but tell him he must keep the wound clean or it will become infected again.’

  He sighed, shook his head morosely, and patted Alice on the head. ‘Let’s hope this poor child gets through the winter safely. I do believe we shall have a cold one; and you’ll have to take care, you ought not to be lifting those heavy fish barrels.’

  ‘I’m very fit,’ Maria reassured him, ‘and we don’t lift them, we roll them, there’s a knack to it.’

  Nevertheless, in spite of her cheerfulness in the face of his gloom, she felt perturbed, especially by his concern over Alice who, although she didn’t want to admit it, seemed to be growing paler day by day.

  ‘Come on,’ she said as they stood outside the shop. ‘Let’s go and visit Annie and her bairns, we haven’t seen them for a long while.’

 
The small house in the dim square was in darkness as Maria knocked on the door and tried the sneck. ‘Annie, it’s me,’ she called.

  She could hear a soft shuffling sound inside and then silence as though someone was listening behind the door. She called again. ‘It’s Maria, Annie.’

  There came the rattle of the bolt being drawn, the door slowly opened and through the crack a pair of wide blue eyes in a small pallid face stared up at her.

  ‘It’s only me, Lizzie, is tha ma at home?’

  The child opened the door a little wider and shook her head without speaking.

  ‘Can we come in then?’ Maria stepped inside. The room was cold and bare with a stale, damp smell. There was no fire in the grate, nor had there been for some time, Maria observed, for the ashes were grey and lifeless.

  ‘Has tha no light?’ she asked.

  Lizzie shook her head again but remained silent.

  Maria took her by the hand and led her over to the window where she could see her better. She drew the child towards her and said softly, ‘What’s ’matter, Lizzie, come on, tha can tell me. Is’t afeard of ’dark?’

  The little girl shook her head again and started to tremble, first her hands and then her thin slight body, until she was shaking uncontrollably.

  Maria bent down and put both arms around her, holding her close to her, and gently rocked her to and fro.

  ‘It’s all right. Tha’s quite safe, just tell me what’s wrong. Where’s thy ma?’

  ‘She – she’s gone out to look for – to look for Frankie.’ Lizzie started to tremble again as she uttered Francis Morton’s name.

  ‘He hasn’t hit thee?’ Maria demanded.

  ‘No, no – he never hit me,’ she whispered, her eyes wide and frightened. ‘He said he wouldn’t hit me—’

  Maria stood up straight and stared down at Lizzie. ‘Unless what?’