The Convicts (13 page)

I had no choice. That night, for the first time, three of us went to the chapel. I was terrified that Oten would spend the time as he spent all his time, rocking and moaning until a guard came round to find us. But as soon as the panel was opened and he smelled the rot again, he went to work with such a fever that I wished I had brought him the first night.

He dug with his hands, with his fingers, clawing at the wood, then slashing at the hull with the spike. Big pieces of planks fell away. Damp and riddled with holes, they felt like the honeycombs of giant bees.

Midge had a look. “Shipworms, Tom,” he said. “That's what it is.” They had eaten tunnels through the planks. They'd gone back and forth through the wood, lining their holes with thin, brittle shells. “It might be like this all the way through,” he said.

I was so happy that I hugged him. But he only pulled away. “Don't you see?” he said. “The worms live in the water, Tom. They swim around until they find a ship, then dig themselves into the planks.”

“What does it matter where they live?” I said. “I just…” Then I understood. “We're digging underwater.”

Midgely sighed.

“When we break through, the river will come pouring in on top of us.”

“Maybe, Tom. Maybe not.” He shrugged. “The ship's higher in the water now, ‘cause she ain't got all her guns and spars and all. But is she high enough? I don't know.”

There was no doubt that the wetness in the wood came from the river. But we wouldn't know if the surface was above us or below us until the moment we broke through the hull. And that moment, I decided, would come the very next night.

I went to breakfast feeling hopeful—perhaps more hopeful than I should have. With three of us at work, we could dig through the worm-eaten planks in an hour. If all went well, this would be my last breakfast on the ship.

The decks were at a slant, the gray burgoo at a slant in the bowls. A little rush of my old discomfort came over me, until I saw Weedle sitting at the table, just returned from the black hole. He was like his own ghost, so thin and pale he was. Yet anger oozed from his every pore, and his eyes never left me. There was only one thing that could possibly make him hate me any more than he already did. And that one thing happened right then.

My back was toward the door when the guards arrived, bringing new boys. Weedle was the first to look up. Then others did, and all did. Mouths hung open, eyes stared, and I turned around in my place.

At the foot of the ladder, twisted and strange in the shadows, stood Benjamin Penny. On his awful, lopsided face was a look of fear. Then he saw me and cried one word. “Smashy!”

It was as though he led the guard to my side. Hunched and scuttling, he came like a dog on a leash to squirm up against me. His webbed fingers closed on my arm. “Smashy,” he said again. “Ain't it a quiz, we fix up together?”

It was more than a
quiz.
It was a dreadful bit of luck for me. Weedle's hands were in fists, his eyes blazing hatred. “So it is you,” he snarled. “You'll come a croaker now, you lying nosey, you toad.”

His quiet fury stunned the boys. From Oten right around the table they sat still as wooden dolls. Midgely, on my right, seemed bewildered and betrayed. He kept looking past me at Benjamin Penny.

Penny piped up. “If I was you, Walter Weedle, I'd watch my tongue.” He nudged me. “Tell Mm, Smashy. You'll finish what you started. Cut his mug clean in two.”

Midgely tagged my arm. “Who's that?” he whispered. “What's he saying, Tom?”

“Oh shut up, Midge,” I said. I knew what would happen next, but nothing! could do would stop it

The boys, one by one, gave their share to Weedle. If they believed he was only a snow smugger, it made no difference. Perhaps they thought it was only an insult I'd shouted at him. Without a doubt, Weedle was still the king of his kingdom, and the others paid their share. Oten did, and Midgely did, and Carrots and the rest. Then
my
turn came around. “Pay up,” said Weedle.

Penny laughed. “Pay
you
He ain't giving you
noffink!”
He grinned a frightful grin that vanished as I passed along my bowl. “What's they done to you?” he asked. “You was never cowed and womble-cropped.”

It was his turn next. The smallest at the table, a twisted cripple of a boy, he alone stood up to Weedle. “Go hang yourself,” he said. “You thick-wit.”

Every boy drew his breath. But Benjamin Penny just picked up his spoon and began to eat. The sounds that came from him were the snuffles and grunts of a piggery, He was loathesome but brave. He spared not a glance for Weedle.

Penny stayed by my side every minute. All through the morning he was there, wedging himself between Midgely and me. “Shove off!” he told Midge. “Want aiiosebender?”

I felt so sorry for Midgely. He never said a word, but always moved aside when Penny came snuffling and slouching between us. He looked sad, and my heart went out to him. I made certain that I was beside him at the noontime meal, and when Penny tried to worm in, I told him, “Go away!”

“But, Smashy,” cried Penny.

“Are you stupid?” I said. “Can't you see I'm not him? I never was.”

“You've forgot. It was that crack on the head, Smashy.” He clawed at my clothes. “Look here. I'll show you.”

I pushed him aside. I nearly sent him flying backward from the bench, but up he got again. Weedle watched it all with his scar twitching. He was fit to kill, but Jwhat did it matter? That night I would be rid of him forever.

The ship's bell tolled the half hours, through the longest day I'd spent on the hulk. When it rang us up from our work, the wind was rising again, the rain beating on the deck. I threw down my pieces of cloth, the last bits of wretched cloth that I would ever have to see. I rose from the bench.

But a guard pushed me back. His cane smacked across my shoulders, and I gasped at the shock.

There was a needle missing from our table. With the benches full of thieves and pickpockets, it could have been taken by anyone at all. I hoped it was Midgely, but he only looked at me with a frown and a shrug. Then the cane battered one of us, and then another, each of us in turn. Oten Acres folded up and wept, and Penny shrieked each time the cane whacked his twisted bones. All of us were marked for punishment in the morning.

The thought that I would be gone by then gave me a calmness that seemed to puzzle Weedle as much as it pleased Benjamin Penny, who must have seen a glimpse of his old Smasher. A glimpse, though, was all it was. When he saw me get up and follow the noseys to chapel, he gasped.

“You? To
chapel?”
he asked. “Who is it what ruined you, Smashy?”

For the first time, Midgely asked to go with me. He pulled at my sleeves, and he wept when I pushed him away. “Please take me, Tom,” he begged.

It was tod much for me. “Shut up,” I told him. “You're a pest, Midgely. I don't even like you sometimes.”

I went alone. I knelt beside my closed panel, intending to pray with everyone else. But my thoughts strayed to London, to the lonely churchyard where my diamond lay, mid then to Mr. Goodfeliow, I imagined die look on his face when I met him again.

I felt the ship touch the bottom, then roll away and touch again. The chaplain squinted at his Bible, his wisps of hair shining like a halo in the lamplight. I hoped he wouldn't hate me when he learned that I'd been tunneling from his chapel. I wished I could say goodbye. But I left in silence with the othersr, feeling all atingle with excitement and dread. I would soon be out on the marshes, and the thought of that pleased me very much. But I would soon be alone, and the thought of
that
disturbed me.

I didn't like to admit it, but I would miss little Midgely. It would be a hard thing to leave him in the marshes and hurry on without him. But Ms usefulness was over now. I would find a place for him to hide, and tell him, “Now wait here while I look ahead. Wait until I call.” I wondered how long he would lie there before he realized I would never call.

Selfish, I told myself Yes, it was so. But if the hulk had taught me anything, it was that I had to look out for myself. Dog eat dog, that was the rule.

I followed in the line from the chapel to the place where I always sat with Midgely. I heard the voices, the whispers, and saw the little crowd gathered in the corner. And I knew right away that something was terribly wrong.

Midgely was curled into a tight ball, rocking himself on the tilted deck. “Where's Tom?” he was saying. “Where's Tom Tin?”

I rushed to his side. Around us stood the boys, Weedle on my left, Penny on my right.

“Help me, Tom,” said Midge.

I fell beside him; I held him. His small hands groped toward me. His eyes were closed, and covered with blood— with blood and more. Tears and pus and a red-stained jelly glued his eyelids shut.

“It hurts, Tom,” he said. “It hurts like the devil, it does.”

I tried to wipe away the blood and wetness. His eyes felt squishy, soft as rotted fruit. Benjamin Penny leaned over my shoulder, breathing fast, hoarse breaths. He shuddered as I lifted the lids of Midgely's eyes.

They were punctured, those eyes. They were collapsing, dribbling their fluid through jagged holes. I knew in a flash why the needle had been stolen from our table.

“I didn't cry out,” said Midge. “Not a sound. I was a meek, Tom.” His hands pressed at my chest like a cat's paws. “You would have been proud of me.”

Just behind him, his hands at his sides, Weedle was standing and watching. On his face was the same dark look he always wore, twisted by his scar into a smile of wicked pleasure.

I leapt at him. I knew exactly what I was doing, and just what I was giving up to do it. If it meant I would spend seven years on the hulk, it didn't matter at all right then. I sprang up, over Midgely and across the floor, through the ring of boys. I grabbed Weedle by the throat.

He staggered back; I pressed toward him. I trampled on his irons and pushed again, and down we went, slamming to the floor, I put all my weight on his neck, and drove his head against the wood. I heard him gasp and choke. His feet kicked in a rattle of chains; his fists bished at my ribs. But I didn't let go. I would never let go, I thought.

Poor Midge called out, ‘Tom! Oh, Tom, what are you doing?”

A rage throbbed in my head. My blood roared like heavy surf, and my breath came in great walloping grunts. As though from very far away, I heard Benjamin Penny laugh. “There's the old Smashy,” he cried. “It
is
you; it's you after all. Kill him, Smashy. Kill him!”

It was just what I wanted to do. I wanted it with all my heart. But the commotion brought a guard, and at the sound of his boots thumping along the deck, the boys pulled us apart. It took every boy in the ward to pry me away, and still I struggled against them.

Penny cackled as Weedle went scuttling back to the wall. “Cooked his goose!” he cried. “You did it, Smashy!”

The hot rush in my head turned to a spreading chill. Yes, I had done it. I had nearly throttled the life from a boy. I was glad—almost proud—that I had at last stood up for myself and for Midgely, but what I had done left me cold. I saw then that I was as savage as any other, no better than the worst of them. The Smasher and I were one and the same.

When the guards arrived, Weedle was sobbing in the corner. He raised a hand and pointed at me. “It was him,” he said. “He's the one what did it” Right there and then I was hauled off to the Overseer, up through the rain and wind.

The ship was firmly on the bottom, leaning at an angle that made the guards seem strangely out of balance as they dragged and pushed me along. With the rain stinging in my eyes I peered off at the marshes, where the water broke in a pale line of white surf. The muddy shore had never seemed closer.

The Overseer didn't bother to open his door. He only shouted through it, “What's his name? What's he done?”

“It's Tom Tin, sir,” said the guard. “He was fighting.”

I heard the Overseer grunt. “You can cage a beast, but you can't make him tame,” he said. “Mark him for punishment in the morning.” My heart rose for a moment, then sank again when he added, “And double his irons tonight.”

It looked like miles of chains that the negro blacksmith came dragging down the deck. He fastened them on, and I staggered below with nearly fifty pounds of metal on my legs. I couldn't even climb into my hammock. Instead, I lay on the hard wood of the deck as the guards locked us down. Then I struggled to my feet and shook Midgely.

“Tom?” he asked, his hands reaching up. I took them, and held them. I said, “It's time.”

“I can't see,” he said. “Leave me, Tom, and go on your own.”

I had gotten exactly what I wished. It was as though he had been blinded only because I'd hoped to be rid of him. And now I couldn't do it. “I'm taking you with me,” I said. “I won't leave you behind.”

He smiled. “I don't mind, Tom. I know you didn't want me along.” His voice sounded more childlike, more slurred than ever. “Nobody doesh, Tom. Nobody ever wantsh me.”

I was ashamed. “That's nonsense, Midge,” I said.

“No, it ain't.” He shook his head. “Me dad didn't want me, Tom. He left me. Me mam turned me out. I don't mind anymore; it's all right.”

“I'll carry you,” I said, and meant it. Even dragging fifty pounds of metal, I would carry him and his irons too, all the way to London. “Now come on, Midge. I'll help you.”

His eyes were such a mess that I couldn't tell, in the gloom of the ship, if they were open or closed. I scooped him from his hammock and brought him to the deck, and he held on to my neck like a baby. “Blesh you, Tom,” he said.

From Weedle we had nothing to fear. He was sobbing in his hammock, and even his shabby gang left him alone. My only worry was Benjamin Penny. Below the swaying canvas he was already coming toward us with his scuttling, monkeylike gait. With hand and hip, he lurched and slid across the deck.

“Who's that?” asked Midgely.

“Only Penny,” said I.

“No! Tell him he can't,” said Midge. “I don't want him with us.” He tugged at my shirt “Send him away.”

Penny said nearly the same thing of Midge when he rattled up to my side. “Where you going wiff Aim?” he asked. “It's always me and you, Smashy.”

Midgely didn't argue, but his hands kneaded and pressed. A nasty little plan formed in my mind, the sort of thing I imagined the Smasher might have dreamed up. “We're all going,” I said in a whisper. “All of us together.”

Oten Acres was waiting by the edge of the hammocks. Our shirts wrapped around our chains, the four of us trekked through the ship. Midgely and I went hand in hand, but blind or not, he knew the way as well as I.

In the chapel I uncovered the hole; I threw the panel aside. Oten took up our sad lot of tools and went at the wood with his thinned arms. I waited for a wall of water to come bursting in upon us.

Oten held the spike like a chisel. He drove it against the wood a hundred times before it went right through. He pierced the plank, and only air came in. Cool and fresh, it smelled of trees, of mud, of freedom, in a way. The farm boy widened the hole. He put his face to the jagged edge he'd made and breathed deeply for a moment. Then he drew back with his hair wet from the rain. He was smiling. “Thank you, Tom,” he said.

He ripped through the wood, smashing the planks. When the hole was wide enough he moved aside to let me look.