Where Seagulls Soar (35 page)

The reason came to him suddenly. The tidal race! It was a feature of the island, the danger their fathers and grandfathers before them had made them all aware of – a place that should be
avoided at all costs. He should have remembered it before and his blood ran cold. But then perhaps what was about to happen would be preferable to a life sentence in prison.

Leonard slowed to a halt, and said before he turned away, ‘There’s a sailing lerret at the bottom of the path. The sail’s still rigged and the boat hook’s leaning against
the stone. Take that. Could be you can get yourself away to Weymouth in it.’

Releasing Durrington, Bisley grabbed Brian around the neck and pressed a pistol against his head. ‘You’re going nowhere without us, unless you want a bullet in your brain.’ He
pushed Brian before them down the path.

‘Keep out of this if you know what’s good for you, Len,’ somebody shouted.

‘I’m not in it. I was here to find my sister. Brian is heading for Cullins’s boat.’

‘That won’t get him far.’

‘D’you think I don’t know that?’

It was passed along the line. ‘
Cullins’s boat
. . .
Cullins’s boat
. . .’ Somebody gave a harsh laugh as the line of men overtook Leonard, their flares
burning acrid black smoke. Their weather-worn faces were set and determined. Some had smeared soot on their faces so they couldn’t be recognized.

The islanders didn’t bother going down after their prey. They just stood at the top of the path, chanting Brian’s name to single him out for the devil. The sound was unnerving.
Leonard joined them, waiting to witness the inevitable result of his brother’s bid to escape – the result he’d taken a hand in. Suddenly sickened by the thought, he turned and
walked away.

Thank God for Leonard, Brian thought as he hooked the boat in and held it steady for his companions to board. He scowled at them, knowing he’d have left them behind if
Bisley’s pistol hadn’t been trained on him.

Durrington said. ‘Take us to the
Joanna Rose
.’

‘I’ll have to sail around Bill Point for that, and I’m not doin’ it. ’Tis too dangerous. I’ll drop you off on the pebbles at Chiswell. You can walk to
Castletown and get the dinghy to the ship from there.’

Durrington said, his voice stronger and more authoritative now, ‘Drop us at Chiswell, then. Put the pistol away, Bisley, unless you know how to sail a boat. In which case you can shoot him
and throw him overboard.’

Brian’s mouth dried. Instinct should have told him he couldn’t trust these men. He should’ve left the kid with its mother and just taken off, since the two men obviously had no
intention of paying him for his services.

After a moment of silence Bisley lowered the pistol, though he kept it handy.

Brian couldn’t see his brother at the top of the cliff. He was surprised Leonard had come to his aid, since there was no love lost between them. But blood had proved to be thicker than
water in the end, though you wouldn’t think so, the way Tilda had carried on.

Tilda had got her fancy ideas from Joanna. Not that Joanna had anything to be fancy about, for everybody knew she wasn’t a Rushmore by birth, only an orphan brought in by the storm from
one of the wrecks. It was a pity his uncle hadn’t left her to drown, considerin’ the trouble she’d caused everyone.

Water slopped about in the bottom of the boat, covering his shoes. As if his feet weren’t bleddy frozen already.

He pushed them away from shore and took his place at the tiller. As he was about to turn the craft in order to take them to Chiswell, Durrington said, ‘What are those lights in the
distance?’

There was a string of them in a line. He swore. ‘Damn. It’s the fishermen. What the hell are they doing out at this time of night? We can’t go through them, else we’ll be
caught in the nets.’ That said, Brian guessed the answer to his own question. The fishermen were there to prevent his escape.

‘Go round them,’ Durrington ordered.

They headed out from the land. With no lights showing, there was a chance he might get past the fishermen undetected, even though the moon was bright.

Behind them, spaced along the hill, was a line of sputtering flares. The chanting had stopped, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. Cold vapours streaming from the men’s mouths were lit
by the flames. They resembled devils, breathing fire.

There was no wind. Even the water was silent, except for a gentle lapping, like a giant tongue licking at the shore. Wetness slopped into his boots. It was slack water and the silence was
unnerving. What were they waiting for?

Fear suddenly churned in his stomach and his bowels turned to water. ‘You bastard, Leonard,’ he suddenly screamed out, as he remembered the tide.

The sea moved under them, as though it were suddenly waking from slumber. The small craft began to move rapidly away from the shore, being drawn inexorably into the race of water that came with
the tidal change.

Brian began to laugh when Bisley gave a high-pitched scream and brought up his pistol, shouting, ‘Take us back to shore.’

‘I can’t. We’re going to drown in the race.’ With nothing left to lose now, Brian backhanded Bisley. The shot Bisley let loose went straight through Brian’s
heart.

‘You fool, now there’s nobody to steer the boat.’ Durrington pushed Brian’s body aside and clung grimly to the tiller. His efforts had no effect on the course the boat
took.

Bisley was cowering in the bottom of the boat, whimpering in fright.

‘For God’s sake, Bisley, die like a man,’ Durrington said calmly.

The men on the clifftop watched as the waters beyond the lighthouse became a maddened maelstrom of white froth.

The moon shone serenely down on the drama as the tragedy unfolded – limelight on a stage of water. Sixty-five feet or more above it, the lighthouse beamed a friendly warning to shipping
eighteen miles away.

Buffeted by the savage currents, the lerret was skewed this way and that. Then the leaky craft was gone, pulled under by the currents and torn apart. The sea chopped over the wreckage in a fury
of cold, frothing water.

Somebody spoke. ‘That was Harry Cullins’s auld lerret, weren’t it? He tried to sell it to me afore he died, but I heard it let the water in.’

‘If it didn’t then, it does now.’

One by one the islanders extinguished their flares and dispersed, walking off alone or in pairs. Some went to their homes, others to the inns, where not a word was spoken about the events of the
night.

Down at Chiswell the fishermen pulled their boats up on to the pebbles, to find some of the revenue men waiting for them.

‘Catch anything?’ one of them asked the fisher folk.

‘The moon was too bright. It frightened the bleddy fish off, that it did.’

‘Mind if we search your boats?’

‘Since when have you needed to ask? Help yourselves.’

When the revenue men shrugged and turned away, the fishermen went off towards the inn, laughing.

The four Weymouth men, eyes blackened, noses bleeding, supporting each other, staggered off down the road, hoping they had enough strength left to row over to Weymouth, and
vowing never to return to the island.

The captains watched them go, grinning at each other, slightly shamefaced at the pummelling they’d given four complete strangers. Not that they’d got off altogether lightly. Thaddeus
had a black eye, Edward had grazed his knuckles and Oliver was favouring his left side, where his ribs had taken a pounding.

‘Charlotte will give me a tongue-lashing,’ Thaddeus said, ‘but, by hell, I enjoyed that little stoush, so it will be worth it.’

Edward pulled on his cap and straightened it. ‘You might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb then, Thaddeus. You’re both invited back on board. I’ve got a keg of best
brandy which needs the company of fine gentlemen to appreciate it, and I think we need to keep our heads down for a while in case the authorities start sniffing around.’

‘Are you going to invite fancy pants back on board with us?’ Thaddeus asked.

Edward began to laugh. ‘Seth Adams can’t tell good brandy from pony’s piss. Would you believe he bought a keg of
Saggitario
from the Dunn brothers?’

There was a cackle of laughter from Thaddeus. ‘What sort of idiot would do that?’

‘The sort of idiot who knows a good ship when he sees it, though. He’s bought the
Joanna Rose
.’

‘I’ll be buggered,’ Thaddeus said.

Edward grinned. ‘James Stark was signatory to the deal. Seth Adams is related to Barnard Charsford, and he got the ship for a song. Charsford is finished, and if by some quirk of fate Lord
Durrington survives the tidal race, so is he.’

Dumbfounded, Thaddeus and Oliver stared at him, then Thaddeus said slowly, ‘Seth Adams seems to be a wily sort of customer, despite the brandy. Heck, I bought a keg myself once, for my
sins. I knocked the Dunn brothers’ heads together and got myself a refund, of course.’

‘Of course,’ the other two said promptly.

Thaddeus ignored the sarcasm. ‘What does the lad know about running a shipping company?’

‘Nothing,’ Edward said. ‘But I’m sure it won’t take him long to find out. I think Joanna would like it fine if we were to assist him, gentlemen.’

Seth and Leonard had gone back to the cottage to collect the two women and the child, who was seated on his mother’s lap, his head snuggled against her breast.

‘Is everything over?’ Tilda asked Leonard.

‘Aye. Best we get you back home now, before the authorities come snooping.’

‘Our mother and Ada Cooper are missing, Leonard. We’ll have to report it.’

‘It’s likely that Brian killed them both,’ Leonard said soberly. ‘There’ll be an enquiry. We’ll go and see the authorities together in the morning.
We’ll tell them you went to visit Ma and found the pair of them were missing. Tell them that Brian took you as a hostage, then Lord Durrington and Bisley arrived. After they hit you over the
head you became unconscious, and you can’t remember anything else.’

‘And what will you tell them?’

‘That when I came to look for you, they set about me. Then they all ran off towards the shore, where a boat was waiting, and they got swept into the race. That will account for my bruises
and your head injury.’

‘I don’t want to lie, Leonard.’

‘It won’t be a lie. We’ll tell the law what they want to hear, within the bounds of truth . . . leave the others out of it, since the islanders won’t say a bleddy word of
what happened tonight. You know that. The authorities will think some contraband deal was going on. I’ll come back later and bury a keg or two of
Saggitario
brandy in the cave. They
won’t entirely swallow the tale, since they’re not fools. But they won’t be able to prove anything different. Besides, there were several law officers among the islanders. I
recognized a couple of them, including a magistrate.’

‘What about me?’ Joanna said, her blue eyes tender on her son as she attempted to gently untangle his matted curls.

‘No need to mention you at all, since Toby’s abduction has been kept from the authorities. Least said the soonest mended with that lot.’

Toby turned to gaze at Seth, his eyes half-hooded and sleepy from the caress of his mother’s fingers against his scalp. Recalling how that caress felt, Seth envied him. The boy managed a
half grin, flung out a hand towards him and murmured ‘Papa’ before his eyes closed.

Something inside Seth warmed, then melted, tears pricking his eyes. Joanna looked his way and gave a faint grin, even though she was exhausted and frantic with worry. ‘Toby’s not
well, Seth. I’ve got to get him home and into his bed, where he’ll feel safe.’

Assisting the women on to the cart Durrington and Bisley had arrived in, Leonard turned the horse’s head around, then clicked his tongue. ‘She’ll make her own way home after
she’s dropped us off. Like as not she was taken from outside the inn. Bang on the bakery door on your way past, Seth, and the baker’s missus will stable her.’

They overtook their seafaring companions on the way down. Seth was relieved to see the three men were still able to walk as the horse plodded placidly past them on the way downhill, for it
seemed to know where it was going.

‘We’ll see you at the bottom,’ Edward shouted out to him.

Seth’s arm was beginning to hurt, but he was looking forward to meeting the captains after he’d settled the women.

Charlotte Scott and the Nash twins welcomed Joanna back with soft murmurs of concern, tears and hugs. How loving women were towards each other in times of trouble. It was beautiful to see. Toby
was fussed over, and it was obvious Joanna was in good hands.

Charlotte gazed at him over Joanna’s shoulder. ‘Where’s Thaddeus, Seth? Is he all right?’

‘Perfectly, except for a bruised eye. Oliver has sore ribs, and Edward has collected a few grazes. Joanna will tell you what happened when she’s got the boy sorted out. I’m off
to join the others on the
Joanna Rose
. We need to talk things over.’

‘No doubt you’ll all have sore heads in the morning.’

‘No doubt,’ he said, his grin rueful in advance at the thought. ‘But I don’t know how I would have managed without their help.’

Charlotte’s expression softened. ‘They have a past together and are loyal to each other. You could be in worse company. Tell Thaddeus . . .’ She shrugged and looked slightly
sheepish. ‘Well, just let him know I’m thinking of him, if you would.’

Seth’s glance slid to Joanna. She was fully involved with the comfort of her child. But that was how it should be and he didn’t resent the fact that she hadn’t given him
another thought since she’d got the lad back.

She proved him wrong. As if she’d read his thoughts, Joanna turned to gaze at him. Her eyes clung to his in a moment of intimacy, then her smile bathed him with radiance. ‘Thank you,
Seth. You’ve been wonderful.’

In all ways, he hoped, feeling himself grin all over. Seth let himself out feeling like a man with a new purpose in life after such a reward, leaving the women to their chatter.

How like her father Joanna was when she smiled, Charlotte thought. And she’d learned to put that smile of hers to good use. Seth Adams had been instantly smitten.