“What if four’s not enough?” he said. “What then? What then?”
“Then it still won’t work, because we couldn’t control five even without the copper tied to the bottom,” said Ten Tons.
Davies hates backing down, but … well, the thing is, he was exhausted. It’s funny … Ten Tons is as weak as a kitten, and Davies is a tough man. But he gets tired while Ten Tons can go on gibbering and running around all night, if he gets the food. You could almost see Davies fading while we argued. So in the end he just waved a hand and sat down with his head in his hands and let us do what we wanted.
Me and Tens paddled one beam down to the timber yard while Davies guarded the other four. Then we bought beer and hot pies. It was a feast! You see? Our luck had turned. We were rich already! And there was still some money left. I knew how cross Davies was going to be when he thought how he’d given way to us just because he was weak, so I bought him a pipe of tobacco, which he loves but he hardly ever gets.
Davies says he’s the only one old enough to smoke. Actually, Ten Tons is the oldest. He just doesn’t look it.
Davies was laid out like a limp rasher when we got back, but his eyes lit up when he saw the pipe. Me and Ten Tons sat around him and cut his spuds up and gave him the fattest pie. He was our leader. Even though it sometimes looked like just staying alive was enough effort to kill him off.
When it was all done, me and Davies lay down for a sleep and Tens took the first guard. He didn’t need so much sleep as normal folks. He stared at Davies with his big bulgy eyes. “It’s all right about the beam, Davies,” he said shyly. “You’ll see.”
Davies just puffed on his pipe and smiled. “Go on, then, Tens … tell me all about it.”
So we both lay down to sleep while Ten Tons’ piping voice went through the plan from start to finish. I didn’t hear it all. I fell asleep listening to his voice. The last thing I thought was … it was sure this time. Nothing could possibly go wrong.
Six
The Lift
Next morning me and Ten Tons were itching to get on with the job, but Davies wouldn’t let us. “It’s night work,” he said. “Unless you want the prize taken from us, that is.”
So we had nothing to do but sit it out and guard our timbers, and that was a thing in itself. There were a lot of greedy eyes on our wood, wondering why we weren’t off to sell it. Old Patty was on to us as soon as the morning mist lifted. She came squelching across, with her skirts tucked into her drawers and a stupid filthy little bonnet on her head.
“Where are you taking that? You won’t get more for it sitting down there on your backsides,” she told us.
Ten Tons started giggling but Davies just yawned in her face. “Get lost, Patty,” he told her.
“There’s four beams, that’s one each,” she said, sticking her nose in the air as if we’d cheated her. But we weren’t about to let her in on this game … she wasn’t one of us. She started screeching and swearing at us and making out we were cheating her, and we had to pelt her with mud and chase her away.
Then after that there were some men nosing about the bank. Davies got the idea they were getting a few of them together to steal our wood, so we loosed the timbers and set sail on them. No one could catch us out on the water, but it was too hard … that wood was heavy! In the end we got a rope and a big stone and made ourselves an anchor, and we spent the rest of the day sitting in the middle of the river, basking, doing nothing.
I was glad we’d left the barge, because at midday my father came down to look for me. My heart was pounding when I saw him! I slid off my log and hid behind it, and Davies and Ten Tons laid low, too.
I watched him cross the mud and go into the hulk and then come out again, casting along the river for signs. He saw the timbers and stared, but he couldn’t make us out. Then he turned his back and toiled his way slowly back up to the dock.
I felt ashamed. I made a promise to myself that once the treasure was ours, I’d share half my profits with him. That made me feel better. I began to imagine that I was a fine fellow after all and not the runaway I really was.
As dusk fell we went back to the barge to wait for the tide to go out. We needed the water low when we tied the copper to the timbers, so that the rising tide could lift it.
Everything was right. It was dark, but with a bit of moon so we could see each other. The tide was low at eleven. By two or three in the morning the water would have risen far enough to float the beams and we’d have a few hours to get the copper down to the pasture.
Slowly the water disappeared from the river bed. You could hear the mud hissing as the water drained out of it.
“This is it, boys,” said Ten Tons. “Let’s get rich.”
I could hardly see him in the dark but I heard him spit on his hands and rub them together. He’d quietened right down, Ten Tons had … as if the copper had straightened him out.
The first thing was to get the ropes onto the copper.
Ten Tons had taken a rope down to the copper earlier and tied a piece of wood at the other end to mark the spot. All we had to do was pull ourselves down that to reach the copper on the river bed.
Under the water the copper had unraveled further. It was huge! It seemed like the bed of the river was all copper, it was that big. It lay there in the dark with the river mud drifting over it, but it felt to me as if it were glowing and lighting up the nighttime underwater … filling the river with wealth.
The ropes went on easier than I thought. There were holes drilled into the copper on one edge … I don’t know why but they were perfect for us. We tied one end of a rope to Ten Tons’ marker plank and the other end round our waists. Then, we pulled ourselves down to the copper. You felt your way along the metal until you found a hole and threaded your rope through. Then, back up to the surface, pulling the new rope after you through the hole. It was easy enough, except you had to do it all under the murky water in one big breath.
Then you tied the two ends of the rope together to make a loop, nailed the loop to a little bit of wood to keep the rope at the surface, got your breath back … and down you went again.
It went so well! Usually all sorts of things go wrong with plans. But the ropes slipped in the holes and purred through behind you as you swam up. There were no tangles … it was easy! Even so it took a long time to get on the twelve loops we wanted. Then it was time for the next stage.
We went back up to the barge and pushed the beams down through the mud to the water. They weighed a ton … we were cursing ourselves for not leaving them tied to a jetty so we could just float them out, but then they might have been stolen. We had to strain like horses to budge them and we were all covered in mud from head to foot by the time we reached the water.
Once we got a beam afloat we paddled it out to the spot where the copper lay. The water was cold and choppy … there was a bit of a wind slapping the waves up. It was hard to believe there was enough copper to buy us a life each under there. We just pulled the rope loops over the timber, banged in another nail to stop it slipping, and went on to the next one. Davies had cut each rope to length, so that the timber would lift the metal evenly. The hardest bit was keeping the timber still in the current long enough to get the ropes on. When we had three ropes on, we went back for the next beam … and the next … and the next.
It was hard work. With the second beam, we had farther to push … the tide was still going out. But by the time we got to the third, the distance was shorter. The tide had turned already. We were all exhausted by that time, but the thought that we might be too late made us work even harder.
One by one we got the beams out onto the river and tied in place. And suddenly … it was done. Our job was over. It was the river’s turn. We sat still on our timbers and waited for the water to work for us.
It’s strange on the river at night, with the smoke and bustle of the day all gone. There was only the creak of timber ships and the wind in the rigging. The water lapped and slapped against our legs.
It was dark and open on all sides. We talked in whispers for a bit, and then fell silent. I think we were all scared it wasn’t going to work … and scared it would, too.
The wind began to pick up and it got cold. You could hear all our teeth going and we played a daft game, making music with our teeth chatters, until Davies went very quiet and I guessed the cold had got to him. We sat there for hours. Nothing moved, nothing changed. It felt like nothing would ever change again. Then, finally, there came a hard, loud creak right by me, like someone treading on a loose floorboard. It made us all jump.
There was a pause.
A moment later there was another hard creak. And another behind Ten Tons. And another. And then … there was a soft little groan right in my ear. I opened my mouth to yell, and it came again. There was a man sitting by me in the darkness, crooning! Sure, there was someone there!
“Jesus bless us!” groaned Davies. Then another noise … a long groan, as if someone was in pain.
“It’s the drowned men!” cried Davies, and I think he and I would have jumped off and swam for it. But Ten Tons sneered, “You pair of babies, it’s the ropes taking up the weight, that’s all.”
I could have wept with relief because I knew at once he was right. I’d heard those noises in daylight a hundred times before from wet ropes stretching over wood. It was the night that was ghostly after all, not the noise. But it made my hair stand on end to listen to the ropes speaking, even though I knew what it was.
“Feel the ropes!” hissed Davies.
I prodded the ropes under me; they’d gone as hard as iron. They were taking up the weight.
“Yes. Yes!” I hissed. I grinned in the dark, and I bet they did, too. There was another long wait. The next thing we noticed was how the timbers were getting lower in the water. Then, they began to drift together. It went on for maybe half an hour, until they were all jammed tight together.
And then everything went very still.
The water lapped at the timber. It was just like it had been before.
Ten Tons said suddenly, “We’re moving.”
“We never are,” said Davies.
“We are. We’re moving. We’re moving, boys. We’re away!”
The timbers began to turn slowly in the water. Two fathoms down below us, the slab of copper swung free of the mud and twisted slowly in the current. We tilted sideways and began to pick up speed.
We were off …
Ten Tons went mad. He’d been as sensible as anyone else while the work was on but now that it was done, he just went mad. He was gibbering, shouting snatches of song and kicking up the water. He was up and jumping and dancing along the beam, whirling about like a top.
Me and Davies whooped and splashed the water with our hands, and dug our heels in as if we were riding horses. Ten Tons started on his famous hornpipe … but the timbers were wet and of course he fell in with a loud splash. He didn’t care. He was still dancing in the water!
After that Davies tied one of the rope ends round Tens’ waist so he wouldn’t get lost in the dark if he fell in again. Ten Tons was the sort of lad who’d be falling in the whole time, you could count on that.
Away we went, singing and whooping as we sailed down the good old Thames with our fortunes hung below us, like a clipper from China with its belly full of tea!
Seven
The Accident
We were having a good time, but not for long. Somehow, like a gang of idiots, we’d thought the timbers would go nose first downstream like a boat. But no sooner had we got away than the current caught the sail of copper under us. We spun slowly round and there we were, heading sideways down river. We sat looking at each other and smirking when Davies yelled, “Look out! It’s a bloody ship!”
You could hardly see it in the dark, but it was coming right at us … a bloody great ship, sitting in the water like a mountain right in the way. As it got close we could see the black bulk of it. We all paddled like barmy, trying to get round her, but of course we hit. We all flung ourselves off into the water and then …
BOOM! It was like a drum, and our timber was the drumsticks. The whole thing jarred and shuddered. I trod water, gurgling and spitting. I heard someone yell out and just caught sight of some great thing swimming at my head … it was the timber turning round in the current. I grabbed at it … it knocked the wind right out of me but I held tight.
Then we were away again, clinging like rats to the beam. I called out, “Davies? Tens? Are you there?” Davies was all right, but for a moment it looked as if Ten Tons had been lost. Then we remembered that we’d tied him on. We pulled in his rope and there he was on the end of it, half drowned and coughing up his guts.
Davies had a lump on his head as big as an egg. We were terrified that we’d hit another and get stuck on the side by the current … there were dozens of big ships anchored downriver. But we were lucky. There was one more we hit, right by the bow, and we were soon brushed off by the water and sent off on our way.
We just sat back and grinned at each other and drank toasts of river water and sang songs. It was plain sailing! Then, before you knew it, there was a pale sky ahead and you could see the shapes on the banks. Trees, fields. There was an inn on our right, and a few lights on in a farmhouse in the middle of the darkness and we suddenly realized … we were already there! It was time for us to get working again.
We each had lengths of plank as paddles and we rowed, hard and fast. We had to get close enough in to the bank before we dropped our load, so that we could get at it again at low tide.
It was difficult to tell how we were doing in that light. After a few minutes, Davies said, “Are we moving it?”
Ten Tons said, “Do you think we’re moving it?”
I said, “You can’t tell in the dark.”
We rowed harder than ever and in another five minutes or so we were certain that we were no closer to the shore than when we started. We might as well have been trying to steer St. Paul’s Cathedral. The copper under us was catching the current like a huge rudder. Whichever way the water pushed us, that’s the way we went.
We were still miles from the bank, with no way of stopping or steering.
“We’re going to lose it!” I wailed.
“Shut your mouth and work,” roared Davies. He won’t have thinking like that once he’s got going.
We put our heads down and heaved and splashed in the water, while the copper swung beneath us, dragging us down toward the sea. Ahead of us in the east, the light was brightening fast … but bit by bit we were getting closer to the bank … whether from our efforts or a chance of the current, I don’t know.
If we could just get close enough! All we had to do was cut the ropes and let the copper sink. The river would hide it for us until the next night. Then we could come back with horses and more rope, and we’d have the whole night before us to drag it out and get it to a dealer’s.
The bank was getting closer, closer. There were plenty of fields this far out. We were going to make it! We were just arguing if it was right to slip the ropes now or best to wait a few minutes more, when the accident happened.
It began with a crack … sudden, hard as gunshot. The next thing I knew I was under water. I struggled up. The light was bright enough by now for me to see the white faces of my friends staring at me. The timber I’d been sitting on lifted its nose out of the water, like a whale.
Davies said, “The rope went.” I touched my shoulder and found a patch of skin a foot long stripped off my shoulder. I pulled myself up out of the water and in the same moment another went; then another …
CRACK! CRACK! and SHHHHHHHHHHHHWAAAK! as they struck the water. There was a puff of wet fibers where the rope split on the beam and a long flash of spray where it lashed the river. Those ropes were deadly. It was the strength of the copper lashing out at us.
Then the timbers started to misbehave.
They were twisting and sinking. It was the uneven weight pulling at them as the ropes snapped. Some o
f them leaned right up out of the water and then crashed back down with a great splash, like the dolphins you see in the harbor from time to time. I fell into the water again and tried to swim clear. Davies tipped sideways as the timber he was on rose into the air like a horse. I saw Ten Tons staring as his beam dipped down and the water rose around his hips. Then the rope slipped off the beam and Ten Tons went straight off the end of it and down with a hard, quick splash.
For a second it was just waves and water and the timbers rising and falling like giant clubs beating the water. We were bobbing up and down trying to duck out of the way. There was a pause. One last timber that must have been dragged right under by the metal suddenly shot up from the depths, nose first. It went up like a salmon and then fell back down with an almighty splash.
And it was all over.
I was cringing in the water. I’d been right in the middle of it, it was sheer luck I hadn’t been hit. Just one blow could have killed a horse. The water heaved and the timbers rolled and yawed. I grabbed hold of one. They were moving in the current, swiftly now that they were free of the weight. Davies was a few yards away, splashing and spitting water and reaching for a beam.
Ten Tons was nowhere to be seen.
The water settled. Me and Davies stared around us waiting for Ten Tons to come back up. I said, “Maybe he got washed downstream.”
Davies looked at me and as I watched, his face sort of changed shape and color. I suddenly knew …
Tens had that rope tied around his waist. Remember? To keep him safe if he fell in? He was tied good and tight to that rope, and the rope was tied good and tight to the copper. Our treasure lay God knows how many fathoms down, and it had Ten Tons with it.
Davies screamed twice, “Tens! Tens!” Then he slipped off the beam and dived. But we’d drifted on. Tens would be yards upstream. I struck out back to where I thought it was and I dived. We dived and came up, dived and came up, dived and dived and dived. The time was ticking by and all the time Ten Tons was under water.