Authors: Valerie Wood
Will refused. ‘It’s my fight, nobody touches my family without answering to me.’
A woman stood up and shouted across the room, ‘We should do summat. ’Press men took my lad. He were just a bairn – nine year old, barely off ’breast when they took him.’ Tears streamed down her worn face. ‘I’ve nivver seen him since.’ She sat down at a table, her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed and hiccupped drunkenly.
There were mutterings and then another woman got up. ‘She’s right, what are we waiting here for? My man got took and he was in good work at ’Yards, but that didn’t stop ’em.’ Her voice was loud and angry. ‘Let’s go and find ’em. Show ’em we mean business.’
There was a roar from the men in the crowd as the women and the alcohol incited them to action, and as Will made his way to the door he heard the anxious voice of the landlord imploring the crowd not to be hasty, but to stay and enjoy the fine ale.
‘Come on, Tom, let’s be off. I reckon we’ve stirred up a bit of trouble between us.’
There was no answer from Tom. He was curled up fast asleep in the corner where Will had left him. He woke him up and once more hitching him up on to his back he made his way towards Rob’s house, taking a longer route to avoid the Market Place and the hostile crowds who were streaming there out of the inns and dram shops to join the fierce demonstration against the press gangs, the navy, the price of bread and countless other grievances which they felt were persecuting them.
Rob had almost finished the limb. He had shaped and smoothed and planed, tapering the timber down slimly to where the ankle should be. From a separate piece of wood he had carved a foot, rounding the ball and heel, and at the top he had taken an auger and gouged a hole for the tapered leg to fit into.
‘Tha should have been a carpenter, Rob,’ said Will admiringly. ‘Tha might have been thine own master now.’
‘Aye, I should have, instead of following me da into whaling. But money was short as it always is, and I had to go where I was sent.’
Tom was leaning against his father swaying slightly, his eyes half closed with weariness. ‘Fayther, I wanted to tell thee – I wanted to tell thee about that man.’
Mrs Hardwick put her brawny arms around him and led him to the bed. ‘Tell us tomorrow, chuck.’ She pulled off his boots and tipped him in, dirt, straw and all, with the other children, where shivering he huddled up to the warmth of their bodies and was asleep in an instant.
‘And what’s ’name of this villain who steals childre’?’ she demanded as Will related how he had found Tom and the subsequent events at the inn.
‘Jack Crawford,’ Will replied absently. ‘He thinks I owe him, but it was all a misunderstanding.’ He avoided telling them of the connection with Francis Morton. ‘He’s a villain all right, no doubt about it, he’ll stop at nowt.’
Mrs Hardwick poured them both a tankard of ale, then wrapping a shawl around her shoulders said to her husband, ‘I’m just stepping out for a minute. I want to see what’s happening down at ’Market.’
‘Just watch thy step,’ Rob growled. ‘Don’t go poking thy nose in if there’s trouble there.’
‘Would I do that, Rob Hardwick? Tha knows me better than that!’
‘Aye, that’s just it, I do!’
The crush of the crowd was so thick in the Market Place that she could hardly get through, but had to skirt the edges, squeezing her large frame past the shop doorways and windows. Some of the shopkeepers were putting up their shutters, anxious to avoid the glass being broken if there was trouble, whilst others, keen to take advantage of the large crowd, were shouting out the excellence of their goods.
She saw two women of her acquaintance and beckoned them over. She spoke earnestly for a few minutes and then moved on to a different area, and the women did the same, going their separate ways.
Soon an angry murmur rippled through the crowd. ‘Sold a bairn to ’press gang.’ ‘His name’s Jack Crawford.’ ‘Call him Blackjack.’ ‘’Press gang murdered ’lad.’ ‘To hell with ’press men.’ ‘Down with ’navy.’
The clamour grew louder and fighting broke out, fruit and vegetable stalls were overturned and the produce trampled underfoot. Shouts and screams and breaking glass were heard and occupants of nearby dwellings opened their windows to complain and add their raised voices to the confusion. The clatter of hooves rattled over the cobbles as the military arrived, and further reinforcements were sent for from the citadel across the Old Harbour waterway.
As the rioting reached its zenith, two figures slipped away from opposite edges of the crowd. The woman, a smile twisting her lips, put her shawl round her head to protect her from the cold night air and hurried home. The man, with his head and shoulders hunched low, slithered stealthily down the back streets, cutting through the quieter parts of the town, and headed northwards up the country roads towards Beverley. The silence of the country was broken only by the mocking call of an owl and a creaking of rope on wood. He cast a glance upwards as he scurried on and shuddered as he saw the frame of the gallows silhouetted against the night sky.
Rob had finished the limb by the next morning and Will took it straight to the bootmaker who promised to start working on the leather right away. Must feel good to have influence like Mr Masterson, Will mused. Just ask and it’s done.
‘Come on then, Tom,’ he said on his return. ‘I’ll tek thee to see Annie’s lads like I said.’
They picked their way through the debris which remained from last night’s rioting. Broken glass from the shattered shop windows crunched beneath their feet, and scavenging dogs and drunken men searched amongst the mangled fruit and broken eggs for something wholesome.
Tom kept close to his father’s side, nervously looking back over his shoulder from time to time.
‘Don’t worry, lad. That villain will be well clear of ’town by this time. He’ll be keeping low for a bit now that his name’s known.’
Mrs Hardcastle had told them of the crowd chanting Jack Crawford’s name.
‘What a hero tha’ll be!’ Will tried to keep the subject lighthearted. ‘What a tale to tell to ’Reedbarrow lads, eh? Only – only try not to say too much to thy ma. Tha knows how she worries, and she’ll be near her time now – might even have had ’babby. How about that, Tom? A country bairn!’
‘I’m stopping in ’country,’ said Tom determinedly. ‘I’m not likely to get taken there!’
As they walked down the corridor of the Seamen’s Hospital, two rows of children marched towards them, girls at one side and boys at the other. The girls were wearing sacking aprons over their grey dresses and their hair was tucked under crisp white bonnets. The boys were dressed in grey jackets and breeches. They all wore shiny black boots and they all carried scrubbing brushes, every other one carrying a metal pail. Bringing up the rear of the platoon was a large, formidable woman, who on drawing abreast of Will and Tom, called out in stentorian tones, ‘Boys to ’left, girls to ’right,’ and with not one ill-matched step they streamed off obediently.
She looked impassively at Will and then down at Tom. ‘We only tek childre’ of maimed or drowned seamen. And tha has to go before ’committee.’
‘No, no. We’ve not come for us. We’ve come to see ’Swinburn lads. I came yesterday.’ He was interrupted by the woman, who swung around, ordering them to follow her. She took them into a small office where she sat down behind a huge desk and surveyed them. She was obviously somewhat perplexed.
‘Is tha a relation of ’Swinburn lads or what?’
Will shook his head. ‘No, we’re friends, that’s all, though we’re guardians of ’eldest girl till Mrs Swinburn gets back.’
‘I’m matron of this institution and I need to pass on some news to Mrs Swinburn. Has tha any idea where she is?’
Will shook his head. ‘No. I don’t know where she is. We haven’t heard.’ He looked back at her earnestly. ‘She won’t abandon them, she’ll come back one of these days.’
‘That’ll be too late.’ She stared at them stonily. ‘Eldest lad is dead. ‘Died last night in his sleep. We have to make arrangements for the funeral.’
Will put his hand on Tom’s shoulder for he had felt the boy shudder as the woman brusquely gave them the news.
‘What about ’young ’un, Jimmy, is he all right?’
‘No, he’s not, he’s gone mad. We’ve had to lock him up for his own safety. He said he wasn’t stopping here on his own.’ She leaned back in the chair and folded her arms. ‘I know he’s had a shock, but there was no need for all them ’isterics, throwing things and that. He’s going to be trouble, that lad.’
‘Can we see him for a few minutes?’
She looked dubious, then relented. ‘Come with me then.’ She preceded them down a long corridor, then down two flights of stone steps which led to store rooms. She stopped outside a heavy wooden door and took out a set of keys. ‘Tha musn’t think that this is for punishment,’ she said. ‘It’s just so’s we know where he is and so’s he won’t run away. We’re responsible until somebody comes for him.’
Will looked through the barred opening at the top of the door and saw a white-faced Jimmy sitting forlornly on the edge of a bed, his head and shoulders hanging dispiritedly. He looked up at the sound of the woman’s voice, and though the matron may not have thought that he was being punished, Jimmy seemed to have different ideas, for no sooner was the door open than he propelled himself furiously towards her and attacked her stout person with small, flailing fists.
‘Hey, hey, that’s no way to behave.’ Will grabbed the impetuous child.
‘She locked me up.’ he shouted. ‘Said I couldn’t have no dinner. Don’t think I’m stopping here, ’cos I’m not.’ He glared at her and made a run for the door.
Will put out his arm to stop him, forcibly picked him up as he kicked and struggled, took him over to the bed and sat down.
‘Just be quiet for a minute, wilt tha, while I think on what’s best to be done?’
Jimmy sat silently, his temper ebbing away, leaving a pale, tear-stained, miserable child who plucked anxiously at his lower lip. He stared at Tom, who looked away and down at the stone floor, not knowing what to say to his friend. All the things he was going to tell him about the games he’d had by the sea with his new friends, now seemed trivial and unimportant.
Will looked at the small room, the high window, the iron bed, then back at Jimmy and finally his gaze rested on Tom, who stood silently staring at the floor.
‘I’d be willing to take responsibility for him, if tha can release him to me,’ he said, looking at the matron. ‘His ma wouldn’t mind. We already have his sister staying with us.’
A gleam of hope showed in Jimmy’s dull eyes and he looked towards the woman, catching his breath.
She pursed her lips. ‘It’s not beyond regulations – but tha’d have to sign papers, and it would only be temporary, till we get his mother’s agreement.’
‘Aye, aye, that’s understood.’
Jimmy stole another look at Tom, not trusting himself to speak. A small bubble appeared at the corner of his mouth and he licked his lips and swallowed nervously.
‘Then I think arrangements can be made. We’ll get signed up and then he can fetch his things.’
Isobel stood by the window watching for the carriage that would take her to her new home. She was dressed in a warm travelling dress and cloak and the weight of it made her very uncomfortable. Ellie had loosened her corset and unstitched some of the seams on her petticoats yet she still felt very restricted and occasionally very faint.
She turned to look at the now empty drawing room. It was bare and cheerless, all semblance of elegance and charm had gone now that the furniture and ornaments had been removed. The high ceilings and cornices were grey and dusty, and Isobel was saddened. She had been happy here and she couldn’t quite make up her mind whether the choice of moving house had been hers, or whether she had been skilfully manipulated.
The clerks were waiting to move in with their desks and high stools as this was to be the office where all the paper work was done. Only Isobel’s own sitting-room had been left untouched, for, true to his word, Isaac had said that that could be used for an overnight stay if she required it. John was to have his own rooms also and make his home here during the week, riding over to Garston Hall only at weekends, it being considered too far to make the journey every day. Old Mrs Harris would stay on here and look after him and keep the place tidy.
Mrs Harris knocked on the door. She was breathless from climbing the stairs and yet Isobel detected a slight note of disparagement as she announced, ‘There’s a Mrs Moxon and a Mrs Hawk downstairs, ma-am, they say as you’re expecting ’em.’
‘Yes, ask them to wait, will you. I shall be down presently.’
She turned again to the window as the carriage arrived outside and Isaac stepped out.
‘Isaac, I hope you were not thinking of travelling in the carriage?’ she greeted him as he entered the room. ‘There really will not be sufficient room. The midwife and her assistant have arrived and I would feel much safer if they travelled with me.’
‘I quite agree, my dear. I shall ride alongside you. I’ve given Walters instructions to drive carefully.’ He smiled playfully. ‘Precious cargo on board, you know! I should be able to keep up, although it’s quite a long time since I rode so far. I’ve also arranged that we stop at an inn for refreshments. John suggested it and asked that you speak to a young girl there. He seems to think that she’d be suitable for another maid.’
‘Yes, I know, he told me about her, although I can’t think that an innkeeper’s daughter would know much about being a lady’s maid. But it seems that I have to put up with these people, I don’t have a choice in the matter! And what on earth is the matter with John at the moment? He’s as jumpy and as irritable as can be since he came back from Garston Hall.’
‘Can’t say I’ve noticed,’ Isaac replied. ‘Come along, let’s be off.’
Mrs Moxon fussed and fawned in the most irritating manner as Isobel was helped into the carriage. She plumped up the cushions, moving Isobel to one side as she did so and arranging blankets around her so tightly that she could hardly move, all the time muttering that madam must be kept warm.