The Ruby in the Smoke (20 page)

"Where are we?" he said. "What's over this wall?"

"A church," she whispered. "Is she coming? Is she coming?"

"The guvnor'll hold her off. Let's get over this bloody wall . . ."

He cast around in the dimness. The wall was not high—six feet or so—but it was surmounted by spikes; he could see them in the dim light from the church windows, now that his eyes were accustomed to the gloom. He heard the sound of singing, and wondered whether a church service would be a good place to hide.

But they would have to get over the wall first. There was a barrel on its side in a comer; he rolled it to the wall and heaved it upright, and then had to go and shake Adelaide, who was crouched on the ground, whispering to herself.

"Come on, stupid," he said. "Get up here. We got to climb over the wall . . ."

"I can't," she said.

"Oh, get up, for Gawd's sake. Get up!"

He pulled her up and made her stand on the barrel. She

was trembling like a nervous rabbit, and he went on more gently, "If we get over here, we can get away and go back to Burton Street. See Trembler. But you gotta try, all right?"

He gripped the top of the wall and pulled himself up. The brickwork was thick, so there was plenty of room to stand once he had lifted himself carefully over the spikes; then he turned and leaned over to help her.

"Tuck yer skirt up so's it won't catch," he said, and shakily she did so. Then she reached up and gave him her hands, and he lifted her up. She was hardly any weight at all.

Another second, and they were down in the graveyard. Dark leaning stones, rank grass, twisted railings spread out all around them, and the great bulk of the church loomed in front. The organ was playing; it looked warm in there, and friendly, and Jim was sorely tempted. They picked their way through the graves and around to the front, where a gaslight on a bracket showed him how filthy they were.

"Put yer skirt down now," he said. "You look ri-dicklus."

She did as he said. He looked to the left and right; the street was empty.

"Best not go back the same way, I reckon," he went on. "It's only a step from her place, that bridge. Can we get through these bloody docks any other way?"

"By the Tobacco Dock there's a bridge," she whispered. "Up Old Gravel Lane."

"Come on, then. You show me the way. Keep in the shadder, though."

She led him around the front of the church and then off to the right, past a disused workhouse. These streets were

narrower than the High Street, and edged with small terraced cottages rather than wharves and warehouses. There were few people about; they passed a public house, but even that was quiet, although lights blazed behind the steamy windows.

They walked quickly onward, and Jim's hopes rose. They'd have to walk back to Burton Street, but that didn't matter; an hour and a half's trudging wouldn't hurt. It had gone very well, all things considered.

They paused at the corner of Old Gravel Lane, which was wider and better lit than the little street they were turning out of. It was starting to rain; Jim squinted ahead, his hand over his eyes, and saw the bulk of two or three tall warehouses at the end of the street, and then a bridge.

"Is that it?" he said.

"Yus," she said. "That's the Tobacco Dock."

Carefully, they went around the comer and set off toward the bridge. A cart trundled past, with a tarpaulin spread over the load, but it was gone before Jim could call to the driver and beg a lift. One or two passers-by looked curiously at the pair of them—the frightened little girl in a cloak too big for her, and the boy without coat or hat on this wet night—but most went on their way, heads down against the weather.

They were almost at the bridge before they were spotted.

There was a night watchman's hut on the right-hand side of the road, in front of which a fire was glowing in a brazier, hissing and spitting at the occasional raindrop which eluded the canvas awning hung roughly above it. A man—two men—sat in the hut, and out of the corner of his eye Jim saw them stand when he and Adelaide were

approaching; and he just had time to think What are they doing that for? when he heard one of them say:

"Come on—that's her! That's the one!"

He felt Adelaide shrink away beside him, paralyzed again. He grabbed her hand as the men came out of the hut, and they turned and shot back the way they'd come. There were no side turnings: the walls of the warehouses rose sheer and dark on either side.

"Run, for Gawd's sake! Run, Adelaide!" he cried.

He saw an opening on the left and flung himself into it, dragging her after him; and then around a left-hand corner, and then a right, until the men were out of sight.

"Where to?" he said, panting. "Come on, quick—I can hear 'em."

"Shadwell Way," she gasped. "Oh, Jim, they're going to kill me—I'm going to die, Jim—"

"Shut up and don't be stupid. They ain't going to kill yer. No one's going to kill yer. She only said that to frighten yer, the ugly old bitch. She wants Sally, not you. Come on, how do we get to Shadwell?"

They were in a little place called Pearl Street—hardly wider than an alley. She looked to the left and right, indecisively.

"There they are!" came a cry from behind them, and pounding footsteps echoed from the walls.

Once again they fled. But Adelaide was tiring, and Jim was short of breath; another corner, and another, and another, and still those heavy footsteps followed them.

In desperation Jim flung himself down a little court so narrow he could hardly squeeze through, thrusting Adelaide ahead of him. She tripped. He fell on top of her, and gasped, and lay still.

Something moved in the passage ahead of them—^a quick, scuttUng sound like a rat. Adelaide flinched and pressed her face into his neck.

"Hello, matey," came a voice from the darkness.

Jim looked up. A match flared, and then Jim felt his face grinning for him, of its own accord.

"Thank Gawd!" he said. "Adelaide, it's all right! This is me mate Paddy!"

Adelaide had no breath left to speak with, and she was at such an extremity of fear that she could hardly move. She looked up and saw the face of a dirty, foxy boy of about Jim's age, clad apparently in sacking. She could say nothing, so she lowered her head again onto the wet stone.

"This the gel what Mrs. Holland wants?" he said.

"You heard, have yer?" said Jim. "We got to get out o' Wapping. But she's got blokes on the bridges."

"You come to the right feller," said the boy. "I knows everything hereabouts. Everything there is to know, I knows it."

Paddy was the leader of a gang of mudlarks. He had made Jim's acquaintance when he and his pals had made the mistake of first stoning him and then meeting his answering fusillade with insults; Jim's aim was better, and his vocabulary was far richer than anything they could muster, and he earned their respect at once.

"But what are yer doing up this way?" whispered Jim. "I thought you never left the riverbank?"

"Plans, matey. I got me eye on a collier in the Old Basin. Lucky for you, eh? Can yer swim?"

"No. Can you swim, Adelaide?"

She shook her head. She was still lying prone, her face to the wall. The passage they were in was roofed over, so

they were out of the rain which was beating heavily on the street behind them, but a chilly stream was running down the passage from the gutter and soaking Adelaide's dress. Barefoot Paddy took no notice.

"Tide's on the turn," he said. "Let's be goin'."

"Come on," said Jim, tugging Adelaide up. They followed Paddy farther into the passage, feeling their way in the darkness.

"Where's this?" whispered Jim.

"Animal Charcoal Works," came the reply from ahead. "There's a door just up here."

He stopped. Jim heard a key turning in a lock, and then the door creaked o{>en.

The room they entered was cavernous and long, and the guttering flame of a candle lit only a corner of it. A dozen or more children, clad in rags, lay asleep on piles of sacking, while a wild-eyed girl a little older than Paddy held the candle. A foul, thick smell filled the air.

"Evening, Alice," said Paddy. "Two visitors."

She stared at them silently. Adelaide clung to Jim, who stared back, not at all abashed.

"We got to get 'em out o' Wapping," said Paddy. "Is Dermot on the barge?"

Alice shook her head.

"Send Charlie along to tell 'im then. You know what I mean."

She nodded at a small boy, who left at once.

"D'you live here?" said Jim.

"Aye. We keeps the rats down for rent, and sells 'em to the Fox and Goose for rattin'."

Jim looked around and saw a pile of animal bones in a corner, with something stirring on them. The something pounced, and became a boy of five or six, nearly naked.

who tottered to Alice with a squirming, lashing rat in his hands. She took it without a word and thrust it into a cage.

"You can stay here if you like," said Paddy. "Handsome doss, this."

"No, we got to move. Come on, Adelaide."

Jim tugged her hand. He was worried: she was so passive, so still. He'd have liked to see a bit of fight in her.

"This way, then," said Paddy, and led them through into an even larger, even fouler-smelling room. "Got to be careful here. We ain't s'posed to have a key. They keeps the furnaces going all night, so there's a watchman somewhere."

They passed through a succession of rooms and passages, pausing occasionally to listen for footsteps, but hearing none. Eventually they reached a cellar, in one corner of which was the bottom of a chute down which bones and horns and hooves were evidently tipped: it was slippery with fat and rancid with dried blood.

"How we supposed to get up that?" said Jim.

"What's the matter with it?" said Paddy. "Tasty."

He gave his candle to Adelaide and showed them how to climb the chute by bracing themselves against the sides. Jim took the candle and shoved Adelaide up, taking no notice of her protests, and after a minute they stood at the top in the fresh air and the rain. They were in a cobbled yard with a wire fence, opening onto an alley behind a public house.

Paddy tiptoed to the fence and looked through.

"All clear," he said.

Obstacles did not seem to exist for him. The wire fence looked solid and fixed, but he knew a spot where a staple

had come out of the post, and where it could be lifted aside. He held it for the other two and they stepped through swiftly.

"Fox and Goose Yard," said Paddy. "The landlord here has our rats what we catch. We got to get across Wapping Wall now, and then we're at the river. 'S only a short step."

Wapping Wall was a street, not a wall, and took only a moment to cross; and almost opposite them was the entrance to King James's Stairs. Jim could see a tangle of masts and rigging and a gleam of water.

"We can get hold of a skiff down there," said Paddy. "Easy. Row yer home. You go down—-I'll keep an eye open up here."

Jim and Adelaide moved down the dark passage between the buildings and found themselves on a narrow little wharf. Beneath them, vessels lay sideways on the mud; ropes ran up from them to bollards on the wharf, and the flight of stone steps led straight down onto the foreshore.

"Where do we go, Paddy?" said Jim, and turned—and then stopped.

Mrs. Holland stood in the entrance. Paddy stood beside her.

Jim reached for Adelaide and put his arms around her. His mind was racing. He could find only one word to say, and he said it to Paddy.

"Why.?"

"Money, mate," was the reply. "Gotta live."

"There's a good boy," said Mrs. Holland.

"I'll be back," said Jim. "I'll be back, and I'll find yer."

"You do that," said Paddy, pocketing the coin Mrs. Holland gave him. Then he vanished.

"Well, now," said Mrs. Holland. "Seems like I got yer, yer little bitch. You can't run away now, 'cause Mr. Berry's down there at the bottom o' the steps, and he'll twist yer head off. He does that with chickens, to keep his hand in. They runs around flapping their wings for a good five minutes after their heads is oflf. I made a little bet with him on how long you'd run about for, and he's awful keen to win it, so I wouldn't go down there if I was you. You're caught now, Adelaide. I got yer."

Jim could feel the child making little convulsive movements as he held her.

"What d'you want her for.^" he said, and then he felt cold, because Mrs. Holland looked directly at him for the first time, and he knew that she really was capable of having a child's head pulled to see if she'd run about. She was capable of anything.

"I want to punish her for running away. I want all kinds of things out o' that child. Yes, come on up, Mr. Berry."

Jim turned and saw the big man climbing the steps. The little light there was didn't reach his face, so he seemed to have no face at all, to be all shapeless malevolence. Adelaide pressed herself into Jim's side, and he looked around desperately for a way of escape, but there was none.

"It's Miss Lx)ckhart you want, not Adelaide," he said. "You wants the ruby, don't yer? Well, Adelaide don't bloody know where it is. Let her go."

The only light on the sodden waterfront was the dim gleam from a distant window; but for a second, another

light seemed to shine out of Mrs. Holland's eyes as she looked past Jim at Mr. Berry. Jim turned and saw the big man raising his stick. He pushed Adelaide behind him.

"You try it, mate," he said, staring up at Mr. Berry with all the daring he j>ossessed.

The stick crashed down. Jim raised his arm and caught the whole force of it on his elbow. He nearly fainted. He heard Adelaide cry out and saw the stick raised again; and then he lowered his head and charged.

Mr. Berry brushed him aside like a fly and dealt him another blow with the terrible stick—on the shoulder this time. Jim fell into waves of pain and hardly knew he had fallen.

He tasted blood and heard a child's cry. He knew he had to help her; that was why he'd come. He forced his head around and found he couldn't get up; his arms wouldn't obey him. He struggled against the pain and found himself crying, to his deep shame and disgust. Adelaide was clinging to him, to his jacket, to his hand, to his hair—^she was gripping him tight and he couldn't lift his arms to help her—Mr. Berry was holding her around the neck with one hand and tearing her loose from Jim with the other; she was choking, she was gasping, her eyes were rolling—the big man was growling like a bear; his lips were drawn back from his broken teeth, his red eyes glowed closer and closer, he had her loose, he lifted her higher—