Hell and High Water

  Henry Meddon agreed. “Food enough all around, I’d say. Just no means of getting none.”

  It appeared that the convicts had all been city dwellers. Builders. Labourers. Stonemasons. They were skilled men, but lacked the knowledge to feed themselves from the land. The wandering, nomadic life that Caleb had led with Pa now served him well. He climbed the steep path to the top of the island, battling through the undergrowth, and saw from their droppings that rabbits were plentiful – in fact there were several within a few feet, nibbling the grass in broad daylight, untroubled by the sight of him. There being neither foxes nor hawks to hunt them the population had multiplied and they had lost much of their natural wariness. With no gamekeepers or man-traps to stop him Caleb intended to harvest as many of them as he could.

  It took some time for him to fashion snares. Shreds of washed-up rope plaited together for a noose; driftwood for hook and stake; a bent branch of gorse to make the whole thing taut. He’d watched Pa do it often enough, but Pa had made it look easy. Without proper tools and with limited materials the task took him five times as long, but before noon he had set half a dozen crude contraptions along the animal trails that criss-crossed the island and by nightfall he had three fat rabbits. A swift blow to each one’s head with a stone and then Caleb reset the snares so he could catch more overnight. Letty, meanwhile, who had neither line nor net to fish with, had instead scraped mussels and whelks from the rocks.

  The convicts had not been left with the means to light a fire, for that might have been seen from the shore. Such food as they had been provided with had been dried, cured or salted, but they could not now eat raw rabbit or shellfish.

  As evening drew in they debated the merits of lighting a fire with Pa’s tinderbox.

  “If it gets seen it might bring help,” said Jack Lancey. He seemed cheered by Caleb and Letty’s presence – as if their arrival might bring an end to his enslavement. Caleb wished he could share Jack’s optimism.

  “Bring danger, more likely,” replied Letty. “Leastways to Caleb and me. I don’t suppose anyone on land saw the Lady Jane go down. They’ll think she’s on her way – that Caleb’s been got rid of. That gives us a bit of time to work out how we’re going to get away from here. We don’t want to be facing Sir Robert before we’re good and ready for him.”

  No one asked what she meant by that. Amongst the convicts the hope that Sir Robert might be punished for his wrongdoing had died with Joseph Chappell.

  In the end Caleb did light a fire, but only after dark when the smoke would not be seen rising in the clear air. He chose a place on the beach where the cliffs curved around in an almost perfect semi-circle and it could not been seen from the mainland.

  Roasted rabbit. Mussels. Whelks. They ate. They talked. And as they talked the plot that concerned the Linnet was stripped bare.

  It was Richard Brendon who explained that it was not just the convicts who had been unloaded onto the island. The Linnet’s cargo had also been taken to shore and stowed in the cave. “It took one hell of a time. Every last barrel had to be lowered down into a little boat then rowed ashore.”

  “I should have known,” Letty said. She turned to Caleb. “Didn’t I say the Linnet was too low in the water, that it was a miracle she got so far before she sank? But why take the cargo off? Why sail an empty ship halfway across the ocean?”

  Caleb considered her question. An aged, worthless vessel sinking, as everybody who knew anything about shipping had thought she might. It had been a lucky chance that the Celandine had been passing close enough to rescue the crew. Or had it? In front of Narcissus Puddleby the Linnet’s men had spoken of a terrible storm, but he’d endured a hellish tempest the night before and Letty’s little boat had overturned. How could a ship the size of the Linnet be overwhelmed by waves when the rowing boat carrying the crew had survived? It occurred to him for the first time that the magistrate hadn’t called upon the captain of the Celandine to verify the story. Was it possible that this violent tempest had not, in fact, ever occurred?

  He said slowly, “I saw papers in Sir Robert’s study. I don’t understand the business, but I did discover that he was paid a large sum of money when the Linnet sank. There were men in Torcester – what did they call themselves? – underwriters … that was it. They covered the cost of the ship. Oh – and the cargo too. Could it be that her sinking was deliberate?”

  The convicts shrugged. Shook their heads. Said nothing. Clearly the concept of compensation for a lost ship was as alien to them as it had been to Caleb.

  Letty frowned as she thought the matter over. “You think she might have been scuttled? Yes … that would make sense of things. Their tale of hitting rocks in the middle of the ocean didn’t hang together at all.”

  “Would it be difficult to sink a ship?”

  “No, not with timbers half rotten. They’d have driven a hook through the hull.”

  “And timed it for when there was another ship in sight to pick them up.”

  Henry Meddon spoke. “So your Sir Robert got paid for a lost ship. Got paid for a lost cargo too when it was sitting here safe the whole time.”

  “Is it still here?” asked Caleb.

  “No. They sent little fishing boats to pick it up, bit by bit.”

  “He’ll have sold the whole lot on,” Jack Lancey said. “Made twice as much money as he would on any honest deal.” There was a pause and then he looked around the company and said, “You know what I was condemned for? Stealing a pie.”

  “I took a loaf,” said Thomas Sinnett.

  “Piece of bacon,” said Mark Andrews.

  “And why did we do it? Because our families were starving. This man – what d’you call him? – Sir Robert? He makes us look like mere beginners. I’ll tell you this, boys: if you want to get away with a crime make it a big enough one, and make sure your name begins with ‘Sir’. Can’t no one touch you then.”

  He’d spoken no more than the truth. There was bitter laughter and after it had subsided, Caleb asked Letty, “Would no one notice the cargo coming into port?’

  “Not if it was unloaded in Fishpool. The customs men wouldn’t come out of Tawpuddle on account of a little fishing boat.”

  “Of course!” He’d seen it himself, hadn’t he? That very first day he arrived: a cart coming up the road loaded with bales of linen making him climb into the hedge. And William Benson had been supervising the unloading of a fishing vessel the day they’d argued about parliament and the loss of eleven days in September. What had Benson’s words been? “Keep your head down and mouth shut … same as everyone else.” Caleb had thought the words were meant for him and him alone, but perhaps they were also a warning to every man present on the jetty, indeed to every soul in Fishpool! Caleb had been too much of an innocent to understand their significance back then. “But why were you all marooned here?” he said, looking at Henry Meddon. “What was the purpose of that?”

  “They said we got to build them a wall,” replied Jack Lancey. “One that sticks out into the water from this beach. See over there? That’s the beginnings of it.”

  “You’re making a harbour?” The idea seemed preposterous to Caleb. “Why do that on a barren island?”

  Before any of the men could answer, Letty spoke. “I reckon the Linnet was just the start. Sir Robert’s an ambitious man, he’s got big plans. Smuggling. Takes too long unloading a whole ship with just a rowboat. You anchor offshore by this island too long and folks are bound to notice sooner or later, start asking questions. But with a harbour in a hidden bay? One built by men who can’t go telling anyone about it? A good solid wall a ship can moor alongside? That makes it all so much faster. Easy to do it from here. And no customs officers hanging around, like there are in Tawpuddle.”

  Caleb remembered the coins, slid between the sheets of the ship’s records. “They can be bribed.”

  Letty shrugged. “True. Expensive, though. Say a big ship comes from the Americas. Sir Robert gets it unloaded here then takes the c
argo on through Fishpool. Use the island as a base and he doesn’t need to pay any bribes and he doesn’t need to pay taxes either. All the profit goes straight into his pocket.”

  “And would there be much money to be made from such a scheme?”

  “Once the harbour’s up and running … yes, I’d say he could make a fortune.”

  “But the wall isn’t yet finished.”

  “It ain’t been easy,” said Henry Meddon. “Us can only work between the tides, see? They was bringing gunpowder to blast more rock. Two or three times now we been well along with the work, but then a storm comes and smashes it back down.”

  “Perhaps that’s just as well,” Caleb said, for a chilling thought had occurred to him.

  “What do you mean?”

  Caleb looked from one man to the next, his eyes falling on each of the convicts in turn as he talked. “When the work is complete, what further use will you be? You’re dead men – that’s what the records say. Once you’ve done the job, he’ll want to be rid of you. The same way he wants to be rid of Letty and me.”

  3.

  They couldn’t build a raft that would safely carry eleven men, together with Letty and Caleb, across such an expanse of water. If they were ever to get off the island they needed to find another way.

  Letty’s knowledge of the sea and of the shipping trade was vastly superior to any of the men’s. When she spoke, they listened. “A signal fire. That’s the way to do it. If we catch the attention of a passing ship – the right one, mind, not one of Sir Robert’s – why then they’ll row a boat over to pick us up, take us to the mainland, set us down.”

  “And what do we do then?”

  “Time enough to decide that when we’re back on the shore.”

  The lighting of a fire would take time, and couldn’t be easily controlled. A beacon would be a blunt instrument – seen by too many ships. Yet as well as Pa’s tinderbox Caleb had the hellfire pipe. A puff of breath – a single ball of flame, come and gone in an instant – it was a risky business, but it had more chance of being seen by only those whose attention they wished to attract. They must be prepared when the moment came. It was just a matter of waiting for the right vessel.

  And so Letty and Caleb kept a lookout, daily climbing to the top of the island, pushing through briar and bracken to the northern side. They watched and waited, waited and watched. One day passed, then two, then three, and they were days of surprising contentment. There was a beauty to the place, a calm that Caleb found soothing. While the weather remained fine he thought there could be nothing more pleasant than to keep company with Letty, watching seals bobbing their heads above the water’s surface, seeing dolphins leap and spin in pursuit of mackerel, and seabirds wheel and soar across the waves.

  Removed from the village, removed from the silences and secrets that thickened the air, Letty and Caleb began to talk more freely than he would have dreamed possible.

  She was grieving bitterly for her father and, like Caleb, she also feared for the future and for Anne and for Dorcas. Without the money Edward brought in how could Anne keep a roof over their heads? Dark thoughts indeed, and yet speaking them aloud seemed to lighten her load a little.

  Letty talked of her father, and Caleb talked of his. He told her of the country house where they’d spent a winter. How Pa had scared the life out of him, waking Caleb one morning with a screech after he’d been up all night carving his new Punch. Pa had stood there with a grin on his face, his right hand raised in the air, the carved wooden head fixed to his first two fingers, a pair of puppet hands to the second two and his thumb. The puppet was as yet ungloved, unclothed.

  Sitting there on the cliff, Caleb began to laugh at the memory. He told Letty, “There was no costume. The puppet was naked, you see? And when I said so Punch looked down and saw Pa’s bare palm. He clamped his hands together as if he was covering his privates. It sounds absurd, but oh, it did make us both laugh. It made us laugh so much that Pa was doubled over and Punch’s head came flying off.”

  Laughter, Pa always said, is like a contagion. Once one person begins, it spreads to all who breathe it in. It infected Letty then and she lay on the grass, chuckling.

  “I do like the sound of him. I wish I’d known him. He was a good man, your pa,” she said at last.

  “As was your father. I am glad to have known him.” He paused and looked at her. “It must have been strange for you when he married Anne.”

  “It was. But I was grateful for it, to tell you the truth. He was always away at sea – I got passed from pillar to post around the village until she came along.”

  “You never felt any resentment then?”

  “Oh, there was a little at first, I suppose. Father was so wrapped up in her! He always treated her like she was a piece of porcelain. Me and her – we’re so different. She’s so delicate – makes me feel like a clumping great carthorse. But I like her well enough. I just can’t be like her, that’s all.”

  Caleb, thinking of what his own fate would have been without Letty said, “I thank God for that.”

  There was a pause while they both looked out to sea. And then she turned to him and said, “Did your Pa never speak of your mother?”

  There was something in the way she asked, something in the frankness of those green eyes staring into his that made Caleb’s heart contract. “No, he didn’t. Why?”

  She glanced down as if deciding something. Then she said, “Before you came … well, Father was at sea. One of the lads in the village started paying attention to me.”

  At once Caleb bristled. “Who was he?”

  Surprised by his tone, Letty asked, “Is this jealousy, Caleb?”

  “Yes. No! Perhaps. What of it?”

  “I never thought to see you mind what I did.”

  “I do not! It is your own affair.”

  “Is that so?” Her eyebrows arched teasingly.

  “Yes. No. I do … mind, I mean. There! Does that satisfy you?”

  She smiled but carried on. “It was nothing – a bit of foolishness, was all. But Anne warned me off him. We had something of a set-to. I said how I’d do what I damned well pleased, that I was plenty old enough to have a sweetheart, that she couldn’t stop me. So she told me of the trouble she’d had back years ago, around about the time her father lost all his money.”

  Goosebumps prickled along Caleb’s arms despite the day’s warmth. “Trouble? Of what sort?”

  Letty was deadly earnest. “The worst kind. For a lady.”

  “Go on.”

  “You know how some well-to-do folk buy themselves a page boy? A pretty little African slave lad, dressed up in fine clothes, treated like a lapdog?”

  “Yes,” Caleb said grimly. He’d seen several during his travels with Pa. The sight had always sickened him.

  “It’s all well and good until they grow up,” Letty sighed. “What happens to them then? I wonder. Anyway, Anne and your Pa were given one of them when they were small, name of Pompey, same age as her. He was supposed to be their playmate, only he was so sick for his home, so sad, it fair broke her heart. They became friends, all three of them, she said: true friends. And then your Pa was sent away to school and she and Pompey was alone. They’d grown up together. She loved him. Then her father’s ship went down and all hell broke loose. The estate was broken up, everything taken by creditors, Pompey included. He got sold to the Indies and Anne had to go into service. Can you imagine? Only she was with child by then.” Letty suddenly flushed.

  Caleb looked at her narrowly. “I don’t understand…”

  She met his eyes full square and said bluntly, “Anne isn’t your aunt. She’s your mother. Pompey was your father.”

  For a moment he thought Letty had made it up. It was so ridiculous! And yet … no … it was like a broken plate being put back together, piece by piece, the pattern finally coming clear. Anne, looking for his father in Caleb’s face. Anne in a fever, looking almost ready to kiss him; pained with disappointment, demanding, Whe
re’s your father?

  “Why did you not tell me this before?”

  “She made me promise to keep it quiet. She regretted telling me the moment the words were out of her mouth. Terrible state she was in. Made me swear on Father’s life never to say anything to anybody.” There was a catch in her throat – “on Father’s life… No point keeping that promise now, is there? But I couldn’t say anything before, Caleb. I just couldn’t.”

  “And so she gave me away? As if I was nothing!”

  Letty took his hand in hers. “What else could she do? Joseph promised he’d look after you, raise you as his own. He was glad to do it, Caleb. Pompey was his friend too.”

  “But to give away her own child!”

  “Oh, Caleb! She had no choice. An unwed mother? A gentlewoman lying with a slave? Bearing his child? She was lucky not to fetch up in the workhouse or worse. She got a place as a lady’s maid at Norton Manor. She had to behave like nothing had ever happened: like she never even had a brother, let alone a child. It tore her apart, but what else could she do? She said not a single day had gone by when she didn’t think of you.”

  Once more the world had shifted in its orbit. Everything had changed. Pa was not his father, but his uncle? It was a bitter blow to bear. Caleb wanted to be Joseph’s son, and yet he felt more powerfully than ever how good a man Pa had been, for he was not obliged to love Caleb but had done so. To find he had a mother after all these years was actually a great blessing. And Dorcas – not his cousin, but his half-sister.

  Yet it was such a weighty secret to have lain so long in the dark! “Why didn’t Anne tell me?”

  A foolish question – he knew the answer before the words had left his mouth. Hadn’t he seen enough women in the city streets reduced to beggary, dying in gutters, or condemned to the life of a whore? Women did not have children out of wedlock and remain in respectable employment. Not even the charity of the parish would support a fallen woman. If the village gossips heard of it now, Anne would be ruined. No one must ever know.