Authors: Valerie Wood
John joined in the laughter without any embarrassment, and commented wryly, ‘You must realize, Will, that I have had a very sheltered upbringing. It just isn’t the done thing to speak of such things.’
‘Tha’s brightened up my day, no doubt about it.’ Will became serious again. ‘I’m very grateful that tha thought of us. A life in ’country – it sounds good to me, but I’m not sure how Maria will take to it. She’s lived all of her life here by ’river, never been anywhere else.’
‘Think about it for a day or two, but we must know soon. My uncle wants to get his wife away before—’ he smiled, ‘before her confinement! I did tell him that I would find someone honest and trustworthy and I know that that is what you are.’
He looked anxiously at Will as he saw him recoil and his face pale. ‘Are you unwell?’
Will leaned on the river wall, his head in his hands. The relief he had felt as he viewed the prospect of work was slipping away. He had momentarily forgotten the escapade of the previous evening and his own vow to put matters right. He was still guilty of aiding a theft, even though he hadn’t physically stolen the goods with his own hands. Until he had rid himself of that problem, how could he with his hand on his heart say that he was honest and trustworthy?
With a start he realized that the sacks were still lying under the bed. What more proof of his guilt would be needed if the law came looking, or if Maria or the children found them and became involved themselves in his predicament?
‘Are you sick?’ John repeated, putting his hand on Will’s shoulder.
‘Aye, I’m sick all right – sick at heart, not in body. I’ll tell thee, young John,’ he said as he straightened up with a deep sigh, ‘’pain I felt on losing my leg is nothing to ’pain and shame that I’m feeling now.’
‘Then let me help you. If there’s anything I can do, then name it and I’ll do my utmost to see that it is done.’
Will shook his head. ‘It’s not possible, I wouldn’t want to involve thee – and besides, tha wouldn’t understand ’circumstances, being too young for one thing and ’wrong class for another.’
John considered for a moment, then said seriously, ‘My youth and social position I am unable to alter, although I’m told by my elders that youth is but fleeting; and my social standing does not mean that I am devoid of understanding or sensibilities. Come, Will, you need to talk to someone and I’m as good a listener and confidant as any man.’
Will studied the younger man’s face. He had an open, honest countenance, too young yet for life to have etched its shadow upon it, and he supposed that if John was to be enlightened as to the realities of life outside his own comfortable existence then he might as well learn from him. In addition, he was desperate to speak out to someone, in the vain hope that by so doing he might perhaps find a solution to his dilemma.
‘Tha might well walk away in disgust if I should tell thee; and if ’law should come after, then I won’t blame thee.’
As they paced up and down by the river side, Will felt that he was locked in by an invisible prison as he talked and explained the circumstances of his lapse, whilst out on the wide Humber ships with full canvas sailed away towards the open sea as if they belonged to another time and another world.
‘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 back 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.’