The Dockmaster
Richard was led back through the church by yet another of the Reverend's boys. His mood was foul but he was also scared. And he was not accustomed to the feeling. The Reverend was evidently quite mad with power. Certainly in Fairyland he seemed to be the absolute pinnacle of power. But if all that he had said was true, he also had some sway over the King and could therefore affect Richard's tenuous fortunes at Home. Then again, on the other hand, he was accusing Mary of witchcraft seemingly solely for the purpose of selling her boy for an outrageous sum. In Richard's experience, witches were always from the poor class; generally old and almost invariably ugly, due to their unholy lives. But Mary was beautiful; she claimed to be fallen nobility. And her partially removed bodice haunted Richard's thoughts. He had seen no evidence of a third breast, which would be necessary to suckle a demon, and would mark her as a witch.
The boy let Richard out seemingly in the back yard of the church. There was a gibbet there, with a fresh rope. No doubt awaiting Mary, tomorrow at noon. It was probably not by accident that Richard was let out this door instead of the much more convenient front one. Getting around the massive cathedral to regain the avenue leading down was a bit of a walk, but eventually he made his way to the front and left the imposing church and its even more imposing Reverend behind.
The gargoyles were undoubtedly watching Richard as he left the grounds, but he did not look up to check. Had he looked up, he may have been more concerned about the gathering storm clouds. But as it was, he was staring at the cobbles on the broad avenue as he descended through New Town. A general sense of life broke his revelry. The school must have let out; there were children everywhere, laughing, skipping, some playing gird and cleek, or stick and hoop, others kicking various objects at each other; but all of them laughing. Some were playing on a rope swing, swaying back and forth. With horror Richard realized that the loop at the bottom for the childrens' feet was in fact a noose, likely enough tied for them by the hangman, who was probably everyone's friend in New Town. To these children, a gibbet was simply a rope swing. They would likely get out of school to watch Mary die. They would never have to worry about being indentured, and finding themselves working the docks or the back kitchens of some great house. Not like Jonathon.
Now there was a fine lad by the look of him. And he would make a fine ship's boy if Richard were any judge. But if he were truly born in shame, but otherwise nobley, then would it be just to condemn him to such a life? This was shaky moral ground, and Richard had no answer. If the Reverend was correct, and Mary were in fact in servitude to the devil, then Jonathon could possibly be the spawn of Satan himself. Did that make him more or less qualified to work for Avery? But if Mary was as she claimed, the Lady of Eddington, save for a chance encounter of her father's one fateful night, then her son was the rightful heir of the Baronetcy. But then, if Richard failed to pay for and take delivery of the boy, then he would most assuredly be ruined by the good Reverend. A knighthood granted by a previous King for services against a foreign power with whom the country was now friends was best not mentioned to the current King. And Richard had no doubt that is just what Macready would do if he were crossed. Complicating everything was the fact that the Reverend had effectively frozen all of Richard's assets here in Fairyland. The way forward was not clear.
"Ahoy, toff."
It took some time for Richard to process this. His musings had taken him all the way through New Town and he was now in Old Town, and not an inviting part of it either. He looked up, as he had been following the cobbles in New Town and the dirt in the Old, and quite oblivious of his surroundings. What he saw when he looked up did not appear to be any better than the dirt. It was another pirate.
"You be the dandy what killed me mate."
"I have killed no one, sir. Out of my way and let me pass."
"Ye'll pass certain enough. I'll see to it meself. Two things I lack before I do that. Hand me over thy bag o' coin and thy map to th'west."
"You must be friends with that other scoundrel that tried to rob me earlier. Out of my way! I'm in no mood for this."
"Yer mood be no concern o' mine, fop. Ye may keep yer purse and yer map. It be only yer life I require, now that I thinks it over again. O' course, I may think it over once more after ye have passed. On, as it were."
And with that the pirate drew his cutlass and leaped at Richard in the same awkward flying lunge that Richard had seen before. Really, these pirates have only the one move thought the civilized part of Richard's mind. The uncivilized part had drawn his sabre left handed, blocked the pirate's lunge with the blade edge, and drawn the back edge with its razor-sharp tip forcibly across the pirate's neck. The pirate became a spray of blood which Richard easily side-stepped not getting a single drop on him. Then he went on his way without a backward glance, still deep in thought.
"That were right pretty." said Captain Avery, apparently stepping out of thin air. The Captain had a talent for blending in with squalor.
"What?"
"That death. It were right pretty. An' I've seen me lots o' deaths, most of 'em up close. Just the one thing, though. Ye must always make sure ye're quite done afore ye turns yer back on some sot as has tasted yer steel."
He went over to the stricken pirate, who was on his knees clutching at his ruined neck and gurgling. Avery gave him a mighty kick, which caused another gout of blood. The pirate remained still on the ground, except for the occasional twitch. And seemingly he had voided his bowels, as the symphony of stench in Old Town had acquired a new instrument.
"There. Now ye be done. Ye can tell by the smell, ye sees." said Avery.
"And I am in no mood for you either, sir. I am quite vexed after meeting with Macready."
Macready. thought Avery. There be trouble.
"Be gone. I have some thinking to do." said Richard as he wiped and then sheathed his sword, but kept his hand upon the pommel. He turned and started walking downhill, towards the docks where the skiff from the Fancy presumably awaited to return him to the ship. The Captain accompanied him, and continued the conversation.
"Well then. If ye are in the mood to be thinkin', then I suggest ye thinks upon this. That man ye have killed, though few would accuse him of being a nat'ral man, were the Captain of the Revenge. An old friend of mine, as was Willum, his first mate. Now the Revenge will be that in truth; I have many other acquaintances on board o'that vessel. And all of them will be after blood. Yours and mine. And they outgun the Fancy two to one. I be thinking it were about time we set sail."
Richard had been thinking that very thing. If they sailed right away they would have at least a day or two, possibly a week, head start on anything the Reverend could send back Home with a message for the King, or even more importantly, the bank. That would give Richard a chance to close out his affairs and escape as something more than a pauper. With luck.
"I'm in agreement, Captain. We're going Home. Immediately. Unfurl the sails, or whatever it is you do. Let's be gone out of this hellish place."
"Well now, there be a problem with that. The King's own brig sloop Speedy, and its fourteen four-pounders and twelve half-pound swivels. Before Willum's return to hell he confided in me that for the price of an evenin's entertainment he had it out o' the first mate aboard that sloop that it were under orders from the King hisself to 'make all haste to the loathsome lump of rock calling itself Fairyland and report to that pissant Macready bearing him a sealed pouch of orders and await his instructions, but in any event detain the Fancy, its Captain and its passenger.' It were apparently the labour of another evenin's entertainment, this one bein' more of the abduction kind, if you will, to pry out of a certain bank manager the fact that one Sir Richard had engaged the bank to hold credit for a journey he was undertaking. To secure the route to the other side of the world, it was said, based upon a map that had come into his possession during a certain adventure to the far east some years back. And he would be having need of credit in Fairyland as some sort of a base of operations. Reprovisioning and such. It seems the good Sir Richard were running out of money, ye sees, from his various adventures of the past, and had need of one more roll of the dice, as it were. And for this he sold his very soul to Mammon. Who sold it to the King. And so here we are."
Richard absorbed this news with a measure of shock. His fortunes were already in ruins back Home then. But the bank surely wouldn't have been sharing his plans directly with the King, would they? They had a certain reputation for discretion. Macready. When he got the letter from the bank about the Fancy he would of course have sent that off in his 'diplomatic' post to the King, as an interesting development concerning the Rock. And then, when the Fancy arrived in port he would no doubt have set about delaying its departure until he could meet with Richard, as it was Macready's business to know things. Meanwhile, the King would have had the bank manager questioned. That poor bugger. He must have had a rough couple of days before being murdered by Willum. In any event, as soon as the King and Macready were in a position to compare notes, and that would be as soon as the Speedy made port, then Richard's adventure would be at a sudden end.
Avery was staring at Richard, who was obviously lost in that private world of his again. The Captain hawked and spat loudly as a polite way of gaining Richard's attention, before continuing.
"The Revenge were all set to sail off on some act o'piracy or t'ther, ye sees. So it had t'jump on the Speedy of a day'r two."
Richard continued to not pay attention, so the Captain continued:
"As it had on'y just come into port and had t'reprovision an' swap crews."
Richard was not communicative.
"Ye knows, milit'ry stuff."
After a few more minutes' walk they arrived at the docks. There were two skiffs there, surrounded by ruffians from the Fancy. The Captain kept looking at Richard in a funny way, which Richard failed to notice.
"Well?" said the Captain.
"Well what?"
"Be that the purpose o'yer v'yage, to sail to t'other side o' the world? I did not sign up f'r that, me nor my crew."
"Think of the adventure, Captain."
"Adventures be somethin' f'r younger men. I've had me adventures. No doubt some o' them adventures has come back t'haunt me, and so the Speedy be after me ship and me hide too and not just yor scrawny neck."
"Then think of the money, sir. What would it be worth to find out how to sail to the other side of the world? To the King, perhaps."
Avery had to concede that. If they came to the King with this knowledge then everyone's fortunes would drastically improve. Any past sins would be absolved. Maybe past glories returned?
"So we must leave harbour immediately." Richard concluded. "And there's nothing for us to the east except trouble. We'd likely meet with the Speedy and surely be boarded, and even if we made Home harbour unmolested we would surely be detained there. Let us leave and head west, then, as was the original plan."
"Ah, well, that be bringin' us to some other problems, I am saddened to say."
"And what other problems are we facing?" he asked Avery. Get on with it, man. he was thinking.
"Ah, they be equally grim, sorr. Ye sees the shadows of the buildings here abouts?"
Richard looked around him, failing to notice any particular shadows. There was a general gloom, perhaps, and some of that gloom was possibly darker than the rest.
"No, not a one."
"Well that be the problem, sorr. It be the late afternoon. But there be no shadows to alert us to that fact. Look up at the sky."
Richard glanced up. The clouds were angry looking.
"There be a storm coming." said the Captain. "A nor'easter if we're lucky. Most likely a purely easterly blow. That be a problem."
"Enlighten me."
"Well ye sees, sorr, Fairyland be a deep bay with two arms into the sea. A nat'ral funnel, as it were. For all directions of a blow it is a safe harbour, save only for when the sea comes from due east. Then t'water comes in with nowhere to go. Now by amazing good fortune we have parked ourselves out in the roads where the water is deep. Deep water makes swells, ye see, whereas closer to shore the swells become waves. Anyone parked closer in or God help 'em at the docks is going to get their toes wet, though they'll like as not be floatin' upside down, so maybe not. And anyone on shore as has accommodations near to sea level will find hisself moved about summat, perhaps further up the hill, perhaps more at the bottom o' t'harbour as it were."
"But we're safe, then."
"Aye, safe enough at anchor. The problem be when we tries to warp out o't'harbour and head west."
Richard's blank stare reminded the Captain that Richard knew nothing of ships.
"Ye sees," he continued, "when we tries to warp out o't'harbour..." Richard's stare remained blank. "Warping be the act o' draggin' the kedge..." Blank stare. "The kedge be the smaller o't'ship's anchors, ye sees. If'n ye drags it far away from t'ship on one o't'boats, away from t'harbour, into t'wind in our case, then drops it, then the monkeys aboard can drag on t'chain and pull the ship. Then ye drops t'main anchor, retrieves t'kedge an' repeats the process. This be warpin'. Eventually ye be out o't'harbour p'intin' into the wind. Then yer troubles begin." Blank stare. "On account o' ye has to turn around t'p'int downwind in order to head west, wi' a followin' sea." Blank stare. "A followin' sea be trouble indeed, but not so much trouble as when ye are broadside to t'wind... look, I'll make it simple fer ye. Ye'll stay below when we do this and ye'll lose yer supper. Do not eat nor drink anything aforehand that ye wouldn't be pleased t'see again."
That was nautical jargon that Richard could understand.
"Agreed. So we leave at once, and head west, and I shall remain in my cabin."
Just then there was the bark of a mighty gun from the top of the hill.
"Is that your brig sloop then?" he asked of the Captain.
"No, that weren't Bess.That be somethin' else." He stared out at the gap between the two arms of the harbour, where the harbour became the sea, just visible from this vantage point. There was a mighty splash out there, visible but silent. And a second or two later the sound of it reached the ears of the Captain and Richard. It was a mighty splash indeed.
"Now that be another problem." the Captain continued. "It seems they has closed the harbour for safety reasons."
"Safety from the storm?"
"No, safety from the cannons atop the hill. There will be no one as leaves the harbour until they fire the all clear, likely enough after the Speedy makes harbour. I believe one o' they monkeys aboard the Revenge has told another tale. We are prisoners, Sir Richard."
"But wait, man. They cannot fire the cannons after dark, surely. Let's wait until dark and make our escape."
"Ye heard the brief description o' the process of warping out o't'harbour against a gathering storm. That were assuming 'twere done in the light. By dark not even an octopus would attempt t'leave harbour. See them arms at t'ends o' t'harbour? They be rocks. There be no way of warpin' out past them in the dark. We'd get holed, and most likely remain as a permanent feature o' the bottom. No, as I sees it, our on'y recourse now is to wait at anchor for t'storm and t'King's sloop. By morning they'll both be here. The Speedy might try t'board as they blow past, or they may simply signal the shore battery to keep us in the harbour. Either way we will be staying in harbour awaiting the pleasure of the King's Captain. I expect the Captain's pleasure will be unwelcome for both of us."
Richard was seething with rage. How could his life have changed so much in only one day? But then the germ of an idea presented itself.
"So the problem with getting out of harbour in the dark is that you can't see the arms, which are all rocks."
"Aye. There be no moon tonight, and it be all clouds as well. Dark as the devil's bung hole. If we attempt to drag the ship out o't'harbour we'll surely ground."
"How about if there were signal fires at the ends of the two arms?"
The Captain looked at Richard with curiosity.
"Aye - we could steer directly in the middle of them. That would surely keep us off'v the rocks. But the Revenge could do the same. It would have its for'ard guns on us, and we on'y have the two one pound chasers aft. And the Speedy will wi'out a doubt be hove to somewhere offshore awaiting the morning before making t'harbour itself. The battery on t'hill will no doubt signal it and it will give chase. And then we still have the original problem with the rats and the supplies."
"You let me deal with those problems. Can you get two teams of men on the arms ready to light bonfires at a signal?"
"Aye, I can do that."
"Then ready the ship to receive supplies. And to leave harbour at midnight!" said Richard, his voice swelling with a new-found authority.
"Eight bells of the first watch. Aye. We can do that."
"I'll be back here in a half hour." Said Richard, turning to leave.
"Now wait just a tetch, Richard. It seems ye have grown a pair since this morning. I'll be seeing ye keeps 'em. Ye cannot go about town looking like that with the Revenge in harbour."
"Looking like what?"
"A complete git. Ye looks like a cockerel as is looking fer a chicken t'fuck. Ye sticks out like a dog's balls, me son."
Richard had no comeback for this. He thought he looked rather dashing.
"Hoy, Beanpole." Avery said, jabbing his finger at a ruffian who was mostly the same size and shape as Richard. "Ye'll be swappin' clothes with the gent. Right smartly."
"But Cap'n, ye can't make me wear toff clothes! I'll be kilt!"
"Then ye'll go as God made ye. I promise I won't look. Now off with yer clothes! You too, toff!"
Richard didn't have the energy to argue, and besides, he suspected the Captain was right. He stripped. While he was stripping, the Captain chuckled and said:
"Now that ye'r becomin' a man, Richard, ye'll be wantin' a man's name. Sir Richard will get ye killed most anywhere. I be thinking of several options, but ye knows how it is. The name that'll stick be obvious, especially now that I sees ye in a new light, as it were. Men're likely to call ye Long Dick. I cannot speak fer the ladies."
A hearty series of guffaws resulted from the Captain's pronouncement. Richard was no stranger to guffaws from the crew being aimed at him, but what he didn't expect were the mighty slaps he got on his back and one of the rogues even went so far as to shake hands with him.
Still wondering what this could mean, Richard put on the itchy, ill-fitting and above all smelly pirate clothing. But he kept his cavalry sabre, which gave him away if anyone were truly paying attention.
"Right. I'm off getting supplies, but I'll be back at the boat in a half an hour."
"It'll be waiting. And good luck with the supplies. Hannigan is a good man but a fat man. He moves slowly, and not at all if he finds out what we're about."
"Half an hour." And with that, Richard sped off, trying to remember where Hannigan's was. The warrens that were the docks area made little sense in the gathering gloom. Nonetheless, he found himself at Hannigan's with not too many wrong turns. Hannigan himself appeared to be in the process of 'locking up', which involved giving terse instructions to a couple of goons. A bit early, but Richard didn't know the man's business.
"A word, good sir." said Richard as the man was about to head, presumably, home for the evening.
"Sir Richard! And dressed like a scoundrel, too. I did not recognize you until you spoke. I was told to expect you, though I admit to thinking it would be tomorrow."
"You were told?"
"Why yes. Just now I have sent the Reverend's boy back to him. He was sent here to tell me to expect your custom tomorrow afternoon with a rather large order - enough supplies to 'journey to hell' I believe were his words. But not back? Curious. In any event, I have compiled an inventory of items I am certain you will need in hell and I'll start them transferring to your ship at sunrise, since you seem so eager. So all of your business in Fairyland has come to a satisfactory conclusion?"
"Yes, it appears so. Since talking to the good Reverend I am clear in my purpose."
"He has that effect on people. Until tomorrow then?"
"A pleasant afternoon to you, sir."
"And you."
Hannigan waddled off, generally in an 'up' direction, as the two night guards eyed Richard coolly before melting into the shadows. He had no doubt they could melt out of the shadows with surprising speed if the situation called for it.
So Hannigan was under the direct control of Macready. There would be no supplies from him before it was too late. That left one other possibility. The dark was becoming tangible with the gathering storm, but Richard could still find his way back to the docks. In truth, you could find your way there by smell alone. And much like a lingering odour, he found Scuppers patrolling the docks looking for mischief.
"Sir Richard! Out and about at this hour of the day? And in sailor's clothes? My but you cut a dashing figure as a rogue. Though I would be back to your ship if I were you. Generally unpleasant people about at this time of day, I'm afraid. It's the dog watches, you know."
Richard's blank look told Scuppers more detail was needed.
"The dog watches are from what you might call four o'clock in the afternoon until eight o'clock of the evening. There are two of them; they are half shifts. Four hours each."
Richard's look remained blank. How is it this man is still alive after two weeks around ships? wondered Scuppers. He tried again.
"That means those who are off for a given dog watch have half the time to get as drunk, beaten up and fucked as at other times of the day."
Realization seemed to be dawning on Richard's face, although the dawn did not promise a sunny morning. Scuppers tried one last time.
"So you get roughly twice as much mischief during the dog watches as the whole rest of the day. It's considered to be something of a fête amongst the participants, so they are extra lively."
Richard understood. So that was why Hannigan was making haste to leave the docks. Dog watch. Richard had need of this little worm of a man but not his repartee.
"Scuppers. Will you take a bill of exchange?" he said to the little round man.
This stopped a barrage of inane chatter dead in its tracks, which was the intent.
"My good sir, I would take your word as a gentleman if I were but asked. But certainly, yes, your word and a bill would do nicely. May I ask what service it is that you require?"
"You have been stealing supplies from Hannigan's."
Scuppers' normally florid face turned a startling purple colour. Like an outraged corpse.
"Upon my oath, sir! I find that accusation insulting to an unbearable degree!"
"And I wish to buy them."
Scuppers' face returned to its normal lividity as quick as a blink.
"Well yes, I may have a few items that have, shall we say, a murky title. Quite a few items. What are you finding yourself in need of ?"
"Two things. All of the supplies of whatever nature appropriate to my circumstances that you can have loaded aboard the Fancy by seven bells of the first watch. And your assurance that Macready won't hear tell of it until sunrise."
"Now you are up to something, my good sir. Ooh, I do like a mystery."
Richard shot the plump man an icy stare and put his hand upon the pommel of his sword.
"But I find it spoils a good mystery to know too much about it. Best it remains a mystery, I always say." said Scuppers, avoiding Richard's gaze. "It may be said that I have a few secrets of my own. This would be something of a tall order, Sir Richard. Might I see the bill of exchange?"
"Here you are, Sir" said Richard, handing it over. "I'll fill it out and sign it of course. But you'll notice it bears Macready's stamp. I am told that carries weight. Best you be first in line when the bank opens tomorrow, though. Fair warning."
"Fair warning taken. I think I am beginning to glimpse the nature of your mystery, sir. You would not be the first person to discover how very long the Reverend's reach can be. His reach is most limited in a westerly direction, just as a point of interest. He reaches certainly all the way back to the King's court in an easterly direction. To the south he commands the fear if not the respect of all those who intend to visit the Rock at any point in the future. No one travels north. Again, just as a point of interest."
Scuppers considered the implications of crossing the Reverend in such a bold manner. He had no idea what Richard had done to earn the Reverend's displeasure but it must have been egregious; or possibly he had simply worn the wrong cravat in the Reverend's presence. The man was constantly skirting insanity and there was no telling what would drive him over the edge on any given day. Whatever it was, Scuppers could likely plead ignorance; Richard had told him nothing of his plans and Scuppers was simply filling an order in unusual haste. Most likely the Fancy was going to ship out at high tide upon the morrow, as far as he could know. If this buffoon were planning a midnight run to escape Macready for whatever reason then the rocks would see to his silence. If he were planning an early morning run then it would be the shore battery. In either event Scuppers wouldn't have to worry about a competing story, and he had all night to craft his own. It's a deal, then.
"I will accept your terms, sir, although there will be a certain surcharge to account for the inevitable fallout once your purpose becomes clear. I must shortly arrange some details before the hired help gets too far into their cups. But first we should discuss the price."
Richard took back the document. "I am willing to leave the price more or less up to you, as long as I am well pleased with what I see at the seventh bell. Now be about your business, sir. Oh, one further thing I require. At precisely seven bells, as I am signing your bill and leaving you to the amount. There is a ship at anchor in the harbour. The Revenge. I wish to send them a token of my respect. An SR I believe it is called. The ones that are dipped in lantern oil. That should give me sufficient light that I'll be able to sign your bill. For otherwise I will find my eyes are not up to the task."
"I will see to it personally, Sir Richard. There will be enough light that anyone in harbour will be able to read themselves to sleep, if any of them can in fact read. Or if any of them do in fact sleep. At precisely seven bells."
And without a further word, Scuppers scuttled off into the gloom.