Cat Among the Pigeons

  ‘Oh yes, replied Hawkins, he’ll hang high and hang long. There won’t be any sad violins playing at his funeral.’

  The gentleman laughed.

  ‘Such a shame his capital value has been spoilt by all this. He could’ve made you a lot of money,’ said another man, taking a pinch of snuff from a gold box.

  ‘I’ll willingly sacrifice all that to rub those abolitionists’ noses in it when they see what they made me do to him.’

  ‘You’re a good man, Hawkins,’ said Dr Juniper, patting him on the back.

  They made me sick, these slavers! I could feel myself shaking with rage but now was no time for an outburst. I crept up silently to within feet of Pedro and hunkered down behind a coop of sleepy chickens, waiting for an opportunity to catch his attention. His eyes were closed and his lips moving soundlessly as if praying for a miracle. I wished I could reach out and touch him: he looked so alone.

  While I was debating what best to do, I heard oars splashing in the darkness, followed by the bump of a vessel coming alongside. Next came raised voices from the stern.

  ‘I say, what’s going on?’ asked Dr Juniper, looking up.

  ‘Just some mad old woman trying to free that there slave of yours,’ explained a passing sailor.

  ‘Radicals and madmen,’ said Dr Juniper, shaking his head. ‘That’s what the abolitionists are.’

  ‘Tell Janssen to throw her over the side if he must. I want to set sail tonight,’ ordered Hawkins.

  But it wasn’t just one old lady Janssen had to contend with: Mr Sharp and party had arrived, swarming up the rope ladder before anyone could stop them. Mr Sharp now appeared on the steps leading down to the main deck, waving a piece of paper, Frank, Charlie, Lizzie, the duchess, Miss Miller and Mr Equiano all behind him. Pedro lifted his head, hope in his eyes. Hawkins dropped his glass. It smashed on the deck, leaving a stain like blood on the planks.

  ‘Mr Hawkins,’ called out Mr Sharp. ‘Mr Kingston Hawkins! I have here a writ against you for the immediate production of one Pedro Hawkins, late of Drury Lane. According to this, you have no right to remove the boy from England against his will.’

  ‘Janssen!’ roared Hawkins. ‘Throw them off this ship!’

  The captain stumped forward, his face pale with anger. ‘I can’t, sir. They’ll never let me dock again if I ignore this. It’ll ruin business. For God’s sake, it’s only one slave.’

  ‘Only one slave!’ bellowed Hawkins. ‘This is about more than the boy – it’s about what’s mine and what isn’t.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Mr Equiano triumphantly, ‘and the law says that Pedro isn’t yours to take away against his will.’

  Hawkins turned on the African. ‘Shut your mouth, negro. I don’t listen to the likes of you.’

  ‘Well, you should,’ said the duchess, sweeping across the deck towards him, impressive in her ermine-trimmed, salmon pink cape. ‘Let the boy free or you’ll be sorry.’

  Hawkins gave her a humourless smile. ‘Sorry to disappoint a lady and all that, but I know I’ll be even sorrier if I let him go.’

  ‘But you must, man,’ reasoned Mr Sharp. ‘Your captain can’t sail with him on board.’

  Hawkins bowed his head for a moment, thinking as he fiddled with the top of his cane.

  ‘All right,’ he said at last. ‘All right, habeas corpus: you can have his corpse!’ With a ringing sound, he pulled his sword from his stick and raised it to stab Pedro in the heart.

  ‘No!’ screamed Lizzie. A whole deck stretched between Mr Sharp’s party and Pedro. I was the only one within reach. I grabbed the first thing that came to hand – a mop – and leapt from my hiding place, planting myself in front of Pedro to parry the blow. The stroke cut into the wood and stuck there, point towards my chest.

  ‘Cat!’ shouted Pedro. Lizzie screamed again.

  ‘Not you!’ hissed Hawkins. His blue eyes burned with hatred as he bore down on me. ‘I’ll kill you!’ He pushed towards me, driving the blade closer. I was no match for his strength. But as the point pricked my throat, a flat disc flew out of the air from behind me and struck him on the forehead. He reeled, giving me time to execute Syd’s emergency manoeuvre. Hawkins received a kick to his privates that brought tears to his eyes, the first he’d probably ever shed. That was enough – Frank and Charlie were on him, wrestling him to the floor. Mr Sharp and the duchess stood between Hawkins and the other gentlemen as they moved to his aid.

  ‘You really don’t want to cross the Duchess of Avon,’ she said, raising her fan threateningly at Dr Juniper. ‘Or you’ll be black-balled from every club in St James.’

  Mr Equiano disarmed Hawkins, throwing the swordstick into the river. He then searched his pockets for the key to free Pedro from his chains.

  ‘You’ll regret this!’ hissed Hawkins.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Mr Equiano, unlocking Pedro’s neck collar. ‘We’re free men – we’re not afraid of you, Hawkins.’ Mr Equiano then wrapped his cloak around Pedro and led him away from the mast, stepping on Hawkins in the process – doubtless by accident.

  I meanwhile had retrieved the disc that had saved my life and took it back to its owner.

  ‘A neat throw, Pedro,’ I said, holding it out to him. ‘I don’t think Mr Wedgwood had thought of that usage when he made it, but it was certainly effective.’

  ‘I just hope I’ve permanently stamped the message on his forehead,’ Pedro replied with a shaky smile.

  He reached out and took my hand fast in his, our palms wrapped around the medallion. He then pulled me towards him and hugged me tight. I was in tears; from the heave of his shoulders, he was too.

  But we weren’t safe yet. We were still on board a slave ship that was about to set sail, heavily outnumbered by a hostile crew.

  Frank and Charlie got off Hawkins and moved to join us. We formed a circle, Pedro in our midst.

  ‘What now?’ I asked Mr Equiano in a low voice. Hawkins had got up and hobbled over to rejoin his friends and Captain Janssen. They now entered into a hasty conference. It looked as though they were planning a counter-attack. Moments later, Janssen stepped forward.

  ‘This is my ship. I cannot have you man-handling my passenger like that,’ he declared.

  ‘Of course, captain,’ Mr Sharp said politely. ‘But I cannot have him flouting the law. Now we have Pedro, we will disembark and leave you in peace.’

  ‘No one’s getting off. We’re cleared to sail and I’m not going to miss this tide.’ Janssen gave a nod and the sailors leapt up the rigging to unfurl the canvas.

  Mr Sharp and Mr Equiano exchanged worried looks.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous – put us ashore, man,’ boomed the duchess.

  ‘Of course, ma’am – as soon as is convenient. Gravesend, or maybe Portsmouth.’

  I glanced fearfully at Pedro. I didn’t fancy our chances of getting free if the Phoenix left the Thames.

  ‘There’s a boat approachin’, captain,’ called a sailor.

  My hope rekindled. Surely by now it would be Syd’s gang or Mr Jones and the men? Janssen must have thought the same thing.

  ‘I’ve no time to take on more passengers. Weigh anchor!’

  ‘Aye aye, captain.’

  Then a whistle blew shrill in the night. ‘Ahoy, Phoenix! Stop in the name of King George,’ came a voice from the waters below.

  ‘It’s the Bow Street runners,’ shouted the bosun, peering out into the night. ‘There’s six of ’em packed like sardines in a lighter. We can’t ignore ’em – they’ll catch up with us down river if we do and there’ll be hell to pay.’

  A delighted smile spread across Hawkins’ face. He looked across at me, sensing a consolation prize within his grasp. ‘Yes, do stop, captain. I think they just want to relieve you of some unwanted cargo.’

  I thought of making a run for it. Shepherd was still lounging against the rail, watching the drama unfold with a sardonic expression on his face. He might be prevailed upon to take me off before the runners had a
chance to catch me. But Mr Equiano put a hand on my shoulder.

  ‘Stay where you are,’ he whispered as I made a move to bolt away. ‘It will be all right.’

  There was a pause as the runners climbed over the side. My old acquaintance, Constable Lennox, came first. He soon spotted me in the huddle around Pedro despite my much altered exterior.

  ‘Captain, I’ve come to arrest that girl over there.’ He pointed at me. ‘And a merry dance she’s led us!’

  ‘You’re welcome to her,’ said Janssen. ‘She’s nothing to do with me.’

  Mr Sharp stepped forward. ‘Constable, I’m delighted to see you. I have here a writ from the magistrate which I am having some difficulty in executing. As you’ll see, it expressly states that the person named below must present himself before the magistrate with one Pedro Hawkins – a boy who he has been holding against his will.’

  Hawkins growled, ‘It’s none of his business. Let the man get on with his job.’

  ‘As an officer in the employ of the said magistrate,’ continued Sharp loudly, ‘it is, of course, your duty to see that the writ is carried out to the letter.’

  Constable Lennox read the writ through, a frown on his brow. ‘And where do I find Mr Kingston Hawkins?’

  ‘Fortunately, he is at hand, sir,’ said Mr Sharp, gesturing to Pedro’s old master. ‘And I’m sure the magistrate will be most interested in the African boy’s testimony for it will show that Mr Hawkins lied under oath when he said he had no knowledge of the child’s whereabouts. That is perjury and punishable by a severe prison sentence, as I’m sure you know. Oh yes, and we will also be lodging a charge of attempted murder by Mr Hawkins when he attacked that girl there, an incident witnessed by all now present, including this lady, her grace, the Duchess of Avon.’

  ‘You see, constable,’ said the duchess in clarion tones, ‘you thought you’d caught our little cat and you’ve come away with a tiger in the bargain.’

  ‘This is preposterous!’ spluttered Hawkins. ‘I’m not going back with that clown!’

  The Bow Street runner did not like the implication that he was in any way ridiculous. He puffed up his chest and faced Mr Hawkins, the highly polished brass buttons of his uniform glinting in the lantern light. ‘Oh, but you are, sir. This writ is binding. I have no choice but to take you – by force if you will not come quietly. I take the girl too, of course,’ Lennox added with evident satisfaction. Two arrests in one night would look good on his record sheet.

  ‘Indeed, you must do your duty, constable,’ said Mr Sharp. ‘We will all come with you. But you may find on arrival at the court that Mr Hawkins will wish to drop his charge of assault against Miss Royal here when it is weighed against a counter-charge of attempted murder.’

  Reluctantly, I left my friends and crossed the deck to surrender myself up to the runners. Two of them seized my arms tightly, determined not to let me give them the slip again. They chained my hands, Reader, but of course left that so-called gentleman, Hawkins, unfettered. He was escorted first to the boat. As I waited for my turn, Shepherd appeared at my side.

  Frank and Charlie were with me in an instant.

  ‘Pssst! Moggy,’ hissed Billy. ‘Tell your bulldogs to back off. I only want a quick word.’

  He was hardly going to try anything surrounded by so many officers of the law. I gave Frank and Charlie a nod.

  ‘It’s all right. I’d better hear what he has to say.’

  Reluctantly they moved off, remaining within call.

  ‘Looks like you’ll be back ’ome soon, don’t it?’ said Billy, leaning with his elbows on the rail, gazing back at the lights of the city. ‘I told ’Awkins I ’ad me money on you rather than ’im.’

  ‘Thanks for your vote of confidence,’ I said sourly.

  ‘That’s all right, Moggy. You were just grand. It was worth the trip out ’ere to see you shove that mop in ’is face. Shame I won’t be joining you tonight in the lock-up: I do so enjoy our little chats down there.’ He jingled my chains. ‘You ain’t forgotten, ’ave you?’

  ‘Forgotten what?’

  ‘Our bargain.’

  Of course I hadn’t. The thought filled me with dread. My promise would still be hanging over me even if I did escape gaol. I was bound by my word, not only for my own honour, but also because I knew that, if I didn’t keep it, Billy’s game with me would be over and he’d most likely do away with me. I was stuck with the bargain I’d made. ‘Billy, can’t you just leave me alone? I promise I’ll never come near you again.’

  Giving me an enigmatic smile, he reached out and gave a tug on one of my curls. I flinched back and he took his hand away. ‘I kept it,’ he said and felt in his jacket pocket. I thought for a moment that he was going to pull a knife on me. ‘Nah, Cat, it’s not what you think. I kept this.’ He held out a long lock of hair – my hair – the piece he’d shaved off almost a year ago.

  ‘That’s sick, Billy,’ I said in disgust.

  ‘When I want you to come, I’ll send you this to let you know it’s time. See you, Cat.’

  And with that, he turned on his heel, climbed over the side to his boat and began to row for shore, humming to himself.

  Miss Miller approached me. ‘That young man is the devil incarnate, Sister Catherine. Thou must have nothing to do with him.’

  ‘You’re right – he’s Satan himself,’ I murmured. And, like the foolish Dr Faust, I appeared to have struck a dangerous bargain with him.

  SCENE 3 – THE PRICE OF FREEDOM

  By the time we arrived back ashore, we found the fish market had been transformed into a battleground. Groaning bodies and blood were strewn across the snow, splashes of scarlet on what had been glistening white. Milly and the younger Miss Millers were ministering to the injured, picking their way across smashed crates and crunching over oyster shells.

  ‘What on earth’s been happening here?’ asked Mr Equiano.

  ‘It was the mob from the Rookeries,’ explained Milly, wiping her own cut lip with a lace handkerchief. Charlie hastened to her side but she waved him away. ‘It’s nothing – I just caught an elbow in the face. They were lying in wait for the Butcher’s Boys – but we won.’ She smiled, then winced as her lip began to bleed again.

  I now noticed that among the fallen were several liveried footmen as well as Elias Jones. He had a nasty knife wound to his cheek.

  ‘Is anyone seriously hurt?’ asked Lizzie anxiously as the runners began to move among the injured, checking them over.

  ‘Fortunately, no. It was mainly fists until an ugly thug arrived just before you landed. He had a knife. He slashed at anyone in reach, then whistled and the whole gang moved off, carrying their injured away.’

  Constable Lennox gave a nod to two of his men. ‘See if you can catch up with them and make sure you arrest that one with the knife.’

  I knew it was too late. Shepherd would have disappeared back into the Rookeries. They had no more chance of catching him than trapping water in their hands. But Lennox had to look as if he were doing something before a duchess.

  ‘How’s Syd?’ I asked, not seeing him among the boys on the ground.

  My answer was a bone-crushing hug from behind. ‘I’m all right, Cat,’ he said. I wasn’t so sure: his nose looked as though it was broken. He had a puffy black eye and his clothes were in tatters. ‘I’m just relieved to see you and Prince alive. I thought Shepherd ’ad trapped you both good and proper. I was near desperate to get out on the water but ’e ’ad all ’is boys waitin’ for us.’

  ‘You should have seen Mr Fletcher, Cat,’ said Milly. ‘He laid about him with his fists like a second Samson.’

  ‘And you were pretty ’andy with that there umbrella of yours, if you don’t mind me sayin’, miss,’ said Syd.

  Milly blushed but looked very pleased at the compliment.

  ‘But your nose, Syd?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh that? That’s nothink. Got that earlier in the boxin’ match. I’d just knocked ’im down when this lady strode into
the ring, bold as brass, and told me what was up. You should’ve seen our faces. Never seen a lady at a fight before – except you, of course, Cat, but not a real, genuine top notch lady.’

  ‘Thanks, Syd,’ I muttered.

  ‘You know what I mean, Cat. Anyways, I’ll get me nose fixed when we get you ’ome.’

  ‘I can’t go home just yet. I’m under arrest.’

  ‘Not again?’ Syd groaned.

  ‘But not for long, we hope,’ added Pedro, coming forward to shake Syd’s hand. ‘So Shepherd didn’t want you to come to my rescue. Then why tell Cat where I was?’

  Syd shrugged. ‘I guess ’e wanted to trap ’er too. What d’you think, Cat?’

  I didn’t want to let on to them about the deal I had struck with Shepherd. They wouldn’t approve. ‘I think it was his idea of fun,’ I said lightly. ‘He wanted to see if I could free you on my own.’

  ‘He’s evil,’ commented Lizzie, shaking her head.

  ‘Not all evil,’ demurred Pedro quietly. ‘He was the only one who was half-decent to me during my captivity. He brought Cat to see me, remember?’

  ‘But he was the one keeping you locked up!’ Lizzie protested.

  ‘It wasn’t personal,’ Pedro said philosophically.

  I agreed with Pedro: Billy was rotten but he had never had anything against my friend. Indeed, I had an inkling that Billy may have treated him well because he knew I cared for him. But that wasn’t a pleasant thought. It reminded me too sharply of the complicated feelings Billy had for me, and standing here in the snow knowing that I had him to thank for saving Pedro, I knew that my attitude to him had become equally entangled. I hated him, of course, despised his way of life, naturally, but now there was a slight suggestion of gratitude, a glimmer of admiration for his diabolical cleverness in getting what he wanted from both Hawkins and me.

  The runners commandeered hackney carriages to transport their two prisoners and the wounded back to Bow Street. Unfortunately, this meant I had to leave my friends to ride with the guards and Mr Hawkins. The slaver glared at me the whole way, no doubt wondering what revenge he could exact despite everything. I knew my weak spot even if he didn’t: Pedro. Hawkins was still technically my friend’s master. If Pedro stepped beyond the protection of his English allies, most courts around the world would hand him over to Hawkins without a second thought. Our victory in preventing Pedro’s removal from England was only partial. He would still be living in fear of Hawkins for the rest of his life.