Chapter 24
They also that dwell in the uttermost parts (Psalm 65)
With the town in turmoil, pirates ready to rampage at any minute, a gang of bullies out on the streets, Rosella in captivity and mysteries piling up around them it might be thought that Pert and his family would be feeling fearful and cautious, but in some odd way the opposite was the case.
Pert felt in himself a mood of quiet elation and excitement. Something important was going to happen soon, he thought. His plans to rescue Rosella were almost formed, and he was waiting for the news that she had been moved to the Vicarage, for surely the Vicar would find the accounts books soon and run with them to Mistress Grubb, and the deal would be struck. Billy had appointed himself chief spy, and when he was not walking Fenestra back and forward to school he had absented himself from classes and spent his time in the back alleys and passages around the Emporium, peering through windows, climbing on fences and having urgent whispered conversations with the pale little urchin in the back yard.
“She not bin moved yet,” he announced. He was sitting in the kitchen, swinging his short legs and munching on a crust of bread and butter. Pert's old suit was looking a bit the worse for wear already, and Pert's old shoes which Mother had given him were scuffed at the toes, but his hair was bright and he no longer smelled.
“That boy says Grubb's not bin near these two days, she's all taken up with other fings. An' the Vicar's not bin round, either.”
"Do we know how she is?” asked Mother. “I've got some food ready, and balloons, for this evening.”
“I'll see ter that later, mum,” he said. “I called down 'er coal-hole this mornin', and she says she's all right but she's mortal bored. An' she was askin' after 'er boots again.”
The kitchen door opened and Floris appeared. “Is it all right?” she asked. “Mr.P's out an' I thought it was safe to pop over. I don' think Grubb's got time ter be watchin' me, what with everythin'.”
“How are the girls?” asked Mother.
“At school. They're doin' all right, really. That April's a good girl, very sensible. She's a big 'elp. An' Mrs.P jus' sits in 'er room an' mopes, an' Mr.P sits in 'is room an' sulks, and the rest of us, we jus' gets on with it.” Her eyes wandered to the stairs that led up to the curate's room. “Er ... is 'e ...?”
“He's up at the church, dear, but he'll be back any minute.”
“Oh. All right, I reckon I got ten minutes more 'afore Mr.P gets back.” Her voice dropped. “I fink e's drinkin',” she confided, “'e reeks of it when I goes in there, an' e' mumbles. All I want is to ask 'im for shopping' money, an' 'e just chucks a few coins at me and mumbles to 'imself.”
“Poor man,” said Mother.
“Poor man, my eye!” said Pert indignantly. “He all but sold Rosella to Grubb! He's nothing but a slave trader!”
“Well, dear, he's suffering for it now, I don't doubt. And I'm sure you'll be able to get her out soon.”
The latch rattled and Septimus fell into the room. “They're gone!” he gasped. “The account books, he must have found them!”
Billy slipped off his chair. “Right!” he said, “time fer me to keep me ears peeled an' me eye to the ground!” and he disappeared at a run.
“Don't worry, Pert,” said the curate, looking at Floris. She looked back with hunger in her eyes. “It'll take hours for him to pluck up the courage to see Grubb, and then I don't suppose she'll just hand Rosella over immediately. She'll want to make him sweat a bit first.”
Floris rose. “I need ter get back,” she said. “See you later!”
Septimus rose to the challenge. “I'll walk you to the gate,” he said, and followed her out. Pert and his mother looked at each other and smiled.
“She's just what he needs, the poor lamb,” said Mother. “She told me she wants to cut his hair and organise his wardrobe. She'll mother him, and he'll love it.”
“And Fenestra seems very ... happy,” he replied.
“Yes. He's a boy, isn't he, that Billy? I like him. I'm not worried about Fenestra at all, though she's my little girl and so young still.”
“So it's just you and me, then, isn't it? You and me who know what we want and can't have it?”
“Yes, dear, I'm afraid it is.”
Pert walked down to the town, and found it almost deserted. A few fishing boats were out at sea, but otherwise it seemed people were keeping behind closed doors. Only two or three stalls were open in the market.
At the top of the Market Square stood three of the pirates. They were lounging on the churchyard wall, smoking and talking quietly, their eyes on the street. They had pistols and cutlasses in their belts. Further down, past the Emporium, were two more, leaning against a wall.
“Well, then, young Master Potts, where be you a-goin' of?” called one of them. It was the dark-eyed Matthew Shattock. He was fingering his knife as though he wanted to use it on someone.
Pert went to walk past without speaking, but the man stood in front of him so he had to stop.
“I'm just going down to the quay to do some jobs on the boat,” he said, which wasn't true but sounded reasonable.
“Oh, what jobs are they, what can't wait till tomorrow?”
“I'm ... the mainsheet needs splicing again, it's unravelling where it goes through the sheave, so I thought I'd cut it and long-splice the ends together,” he said.
This evidently sounded sufficiently seamanlike to satisfy the man. “Well, off you go and splice, then, young master. But don't you get no clever ideas, 'cos we're watchin' all what goes on. We control this town now, Capting says, an' 'e's sittin' on the barky with 'is guns loaded wi' grapeshot what'll cut down a crowd o' men an' blow their legs ter bits, and they're pointed right down the quay. You see any of them naughty fisher-boys, you tell 'em. Capting's in charge now!”
“And what does Mistress Grubb think about that?” Pert asked, greatly daring.
The man drew breath to answer but was interrupted by the coarse voice behind him. “What Mistress Grubb thinks is what Mistress Grubb knows,” it said scornfully. From the mouth of the alley stepped the woman herself, short and squat and menacing. Pert felt his heart turn over as she approached and stood at the pirate's shoulder. Her head was level with his breast bone but she looked completely unconcerned about the knife in his hand and the pistol in his belt.
“You, Pertinacious Potts, it's time you and I had a little chat,” she said. “I'm sure this gentleman won't mind if I steal you away for a minute, seeing as I have my sharp knife up between his legs?”
The pirate gulped and tried to stand on his toes. “And he wont be needing this, will he?” she said sweetly, taking the pistol from his belt and pointing it at the other pirate. She took Pert by the shoulder and pushed him towards the alley. Her grip was powerful, paralysing him. At the entrance to the alley she turned, tipped the pistol up so that the ball fell out and rolled into the gutter, and threw the gun on the pavement.
She hustled him down the alley, her great boots pounding on the cobbles, and pushed him into a doorway. The door opened and he found himself in the back yard of the Emporium.
“Now,” she said, facing him, her back to the door so there was no escape, “our little chat. It goes like this. Your friend Teague wants his treasure. He doesn't know where it is. I don't know where it is, though I think I know where it's been but isn't there now. But you ...” she paused, and her one good eye narrowed, “you know where it is, or you know where your father is and he knows it. At any rate, I think you have a handle on the thing, and I mean to get that handle from you.”
“I don't ...” he began, but she slapped him in the mouth with her gloved hand. He felt his lip split against his teeth, and tasted salt blood on his tongue.
“You listen, you sneaking, idle, thieving little turd!” she hissed. “I've got your girl, and if you don't do what I tell you, I'll take it out of her precious prissy hide! And then I'll give her to someone who'll do worse, and enjoy the doing of it!”
&n
bsp; “You ...” he began, but she slapped him again.
“And when I've finished with her, we'll see how you feel when it's your sister down in my cellar, or your mother so bathed in sweetness and light! And if that don't work, when they're ruined and spoiled, I'll start on you. I'll flay your skin off your back, boy, and I'll extract your pretty white teeth one by one with a poker, and I'll puncture your eyes with a toasting fork, and ...” she raised her head even closer to his face, and he stared fascinated at the moustache on her upper lip and the blooming hairs in her broad nostrils, “... I'll rip off your manhood and eat it!”
She stepped back. “And then I'll toss your useless carcase into the street and tell everyone I caught you doing something so rotten that they'll hunt you down and string you up and spit on what's left before the seagulls get it!”
“You've got a pretty way with words, Mistress,” he said, “but I don't know what you're talking about. And as for your threats, well, you'll have to catch me first!” He burst into motion. Keep moving, keep moving, he gasped to himself, she's bigger and heavier than you but she's slower, keep moving! He ducked under her arms and dashed to the other end of the yard, turned and threw over a dustbin in front of her feet, dodged one way and then the other as she reached for him with her great mouth gaping wide and her great yellow teeth gleaming for his throat, then leaped up onto a dustbin and vaulted over the fence. He had no idea what lay the other side of the fence, but were it a fifty foot drop it could hardly be worse than Grubb. What lay on the other side of the fence was, it turned out, Billy Moon. Pert struck him and they both fell sprawling in the dirt.
“Quick, scarper!” said Billy, pulling him to his feet, and they ran hell for leather for the alley and then downhill. Billy led him the usual dance, up this entry and down this yard, through one garden and out of another, until he judged it was safe. They stopped in a side street. Bent over and gasping for breath.
“Whew ... that was ... grand, guv! You told 'er!”
“I was so scared, Billy! I don't care who knows it. I nearly wet myself. In fact,” he looked down, “I think I might have!”
Billy laughed. “No you ain't! Bleedin' 'ero, you are, standin' up to 'er! There ain't no one stood up against 'er these fifteen years, I should fink. You're a bleedin' 'ero, an' I'm proud to know yer. Bloody 'eavy you are, though, when you falls on a bloke!”
Both laughing and supporting each other they began to walk towards home.
“What we've got to think about,” Pert said, “is what she'll do next. If she wants to come after me, she's either got to use the pirates, or Bunt and his men. I don't think there's much love between her and the pirates, and there'll be even less now. She put a knife to Matthew Shattock's trousers, you know!”
Billy's eyes gleamed. “Cor!”
“And if she uses Bunt and Durridge and Fisty Marrow, I reckon I can keep out of their way all right.”
“But she might come at it another way, like.”
“Yes. There's Rosella, and there's my sister and my mother.”
“Oh! Wait up! I knew there was somefink I never told yer! I meant to say, Vicar came callin' this mornin'. 'E come to the front door of that Emporimum all puffed up and excited, wiv a pack o'
books under 'is arm.”
“Did she take them?”
“Yes, she took 'em in, but then they stood on the doorstep arguin' for a bit. He was wavin' 'is arms, an' she was shakin' 'er 'ead, and in the end 'e turns an' stumps off lookin' none too pleased.”
“I think I can guess what that was about. He thought she'd give him Rosella right there and then, to take home with him, and she wouldn't. But I expect she will later on. We'd better get ready!”
“Where's Septimus?” called Pert as they burst into the kitchen.
“Septimus?”
“I'm here, dear boy,” said Surplice clattering down the stairs. “Why, whatever's amiss? Why the row?”
“We need to plan!” said Pert. “And I need you to do something important, this afternoon after school!”
They sat down, and Pert outlined his plan. “As soon as Billy and Fenestra get back from school, I want you to go to the church with us and let us into the tunnel. You can pretend you're in there preparing sermons or something, if anyone sees you.”
“They won't, probably. Only the Vicar, and he stays away mostly. But why do you have to go there again?”
“I need to check once more. If the treasure's hidden anywhere, it'll be in those tunnels. I need to be sure.”
“But Fenestra? Surely you won't take her?”
“Not if I can help it, but I need Billy. It'll be safer if Billy's with me. And another thing – can you remember what Fenestra said was written on J.Tench's gravestone?”
“Why, yes, I think so. Let me see ...”
“Could you write it down for me?”
“I will. Do you want me to do it now?”
“Yes, please. Just that, nothing else, on a piece of paper. I'm going to try and send the pirates on a wild goose chase to divert their attention.”
With Septimus's paper in his pocket, Pert ran down the street again, and turned up towards the church. The picket of pirates lounged on the wall, though the guard had changed. He went to them, and as he approached they rose expectantly.
“Please,” he said, “I have a message for your captain.”
“What's that?” one of the men said suspiciously. It was Will Smy, the big, truculent ruffian.
“It's this,” said Pert, showing the paper. “I want you to take this to Captain Teague, and tell him this might be where the treasure is. Not for certain, say, but possibly. It sounds like a hiding place – see, “Jedediah Tench 1833 – 1887, Hide me under the shadow of thy wings, I am forgotten as a dead man out of mind.” It says 'hide' and 'under thy wings', and there's an angel on top.”
The man looked baffled. “Look, just go and tell him. He'll work it out. And ...” a thought had struck him, “... and tell him I got it from Mistress Grubb!”
Smy took the paper, nodded to his two companions, and began to walk quickly down the Market Square towards the quay. Pert turned for home again. So, that was one thing done. If the treasure was indeed hidden under the shadow of thy wings, then Teague would find it and he and his men would sail away. Then all they'd got to worry about was Grubb and the Vicar.
On the other hand, if the grave was just a grave and nothing more, then Teague would have wasted time and effort digging it, and there was just a chance he might blame Grubb for it. One thing was certain, though. Whatever was in that grave it wasn't Jedediah Tench, because he was lying still and bony and forgotten as a dead man under the cliff, and Pert was going to see him that afternoon.
Later, Billy went to keep an eye on the Vicarage and on Jedediah Tench 1833 – 1887 while Pert collected Fenestra from school. They walked up the hill behind Floris and her crocodile.
“How are you getting on in school without Billy, now he's bunking off to help me?” he asked Fenestra.
“Oh, no problem at all,” she said airily. “There is this one boy, Feckless Rossage, what started getting a bit picky in the playground, but Billy spoke to him after school, and said that if he came near me again he'd wait for him at the gate and smack 'im in the mouth. And he went quiet after that, and now 'e keeps away from me. An' I'm getting a bit friendly, like, with April and May. They're quite nice, they are.”
“You're sounding more and more like Billy every day.”
“What's wrong with that? I like Billy. He's my best thing. I think I might start lusting after him, now he's washed. Are girls allowed to lust, or is it only boys?”
“I don't know,” said Pert hopelessly, “I really don't.”
In front of them Floris and her brood had slowed, looking as though they were hoping Pert would catch up. Floris looked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes, meaning “follow me, I need to speak to you”. They turned up the Bearward and at the gate of the Prettyfoot house she urged the little girls inside before pul
ling Pert and Fenestra round the side of the house.
“Listen,” she said urgently. “This morning I went shopping, not that there's many shops to shop in, and 'avin' to run the gauntlet of all them pirates on ev'ry corner. But I nipped up to the Vicarage. There's a girl works there as used to be at the Emporium, so I knows 'er. She's called Vera, weedy little thing she is, very scared. And no wonder - I reckon she gets an 'ard time of it up there.”
She glanced round to see that no one was watching, and continued “Anyway, I sneaks up ter the back door, an' there she is washin' dishes, an' we 'ad a little conversation. She's been told to prepare a room for a new girl, an' make sure the lock works an' the big cane is hangin' in the kitchen. But she 'ates the Vicar, an' I think she's desperate enough to help us. Fer instance, would it be useful to 'ave a little plan of the rooms, like, so we know what's where?”
“Very useful, oh thank you Floris! Do you think she might unlock the door and let us in when we go to get Rosella?”
“She might. I'll try an' get away an' speak to 'er again. I don't think anyone but the Vicar's spoken to 'er in months, she was so pleased ter see me! Would tomorrow mornin' do?”
“Yes. And one more thing. Could you put Rosella's boots in your shopping basket, and give them to Vera? I think Rosella might be able to look after herself if she's got her boots on.”
Floris laughed. “Cor, yes! One good kick on those skinny bones'll slow that Vicar down, all right! Damp 'is ardour, that will!”