Authors: Benita Brown
Tags: #Technology & Engineering, #Sagas, #Fisheries & Aquaculture, #Fiction
A Safe Harbour (44 page)
‘We might as well have stayed in bed,’ his younger brother had said angrily. And later, when he’d talked about getting together with the lads to cheer himself up, he’d asked William to go with him. William had refused but their mother, not liking the mood Thomas was in, had begged him to go along to keep an eye on things. Especially as Henry had decided to join them.
Henry Lawson was sitting by himself, further along the bench, almost in the corner of the room. He liked that corner. For some reason he thought of it as his place, and no one had ever had the temerity to challenge him for it. He was staring into his beer. Even in the crowded bar no one was willing to sit too near him. He had long been known as a troublemaker. He would pick fights which ended with both him and his unfortunate victim being thrown out. William guessed it wouldn’t be long before he was barred from every public house in the village. If he hadn’t drunk himself to death first.
‘Take a hold of these, lads.’
Thomas returned and put three pints of beer on the table and went back for two more. He gave one to William and took the other over to their father, who didn’t even look up.
‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ William said when Thomas resumed his seat next to him.
‘Hawway, drink up, man, it’ll do you good. You’re becoming such a miserable beggar, William, that I hardly recognize you these days. You haven’t spoken a word all evening – I don’t believe you’ve heard a thing we’ve said.’
William let that go. ‘I meant you shouldn’t have bought another drink for Da.’
‘Not buy a drink for my own father? What do you think I am?’
‘A fool, that’s what I think you are.’
Thomas bridled. William saw the telltale flush of temper begin to rise up. ‘Now listen—’ Thomas began.
‘No, you listen. You know our father can’t take his drink.’
‘Can’t take his drink? You must be joking. There’s no man in the village that can down as many pints as Henry Lawson.’
‘But look what it does to him. Do you want him to go home and take his temper out on our ma?’
‘Well, no, but we’ll be there, won’t we? We can keep him in hand these days.’
‘And that’s another thing,’ William said. ‘These days he doesn’t always get home safe, does he? Our mother thinks he’s ill and I agree. But I believe it’s an illness brought on by the drink. Whatever sort of father he’s been, do you want to be the one who finishes him off ?’
Thomas fell silent. He looked along at their father and then back at William. ‘You’re right. Damn it, you usually are. I won’t buy him any more drinks tonight if you promise not to speak to me like that in front of my friends.’
William looked hard at his younger brother. Thomas couldn’t stay serious for long. He was smiling now and looking a little shamefaced.
‘Don’t worry, I doubt if Matthew and Jack heard me. They’re too deep in conversation.’
Thomas glanced over his shoulder. ‘Aye, so they are. They haven’t even noticed that I’ve brought them another beer.’ He turned his whole body round to face his friends. ‘Right, lads, drink up,’ he urged, and picked up his own glass. He took a long swallow from his pint and then said quietly, ‘Are we agreed? If we don’t do something to stop Adamson soon, we might as well burn the cobles and seek work in the pits.’
Oh, no, William thought. So that is what tonight is about. William felt uneasy. After the demonstration outside Richard Adamson’s house he had promised Jane that he would steer clear of any protests about the fishing and he’d been glad to. In all honesty he couldn’t see how action of the sort Thomas preferred would do any good. Mr Adamson had made it clear that he would be happy to talk to the men.
But Thomas and his pals wouldn’t listen. After the so-called ‘riot’ they had behaved themselves. But their anger had seethed on and William had suspected that they had something else planned. Now he was annoyed with himself for allowing Thomas to persuade him to come along tonight. But at least his brother had turned his back on him for the moment and was talking quietly to his two best pals. They were listening intently to what he was saying and in spite of himself William found himself straining to hear what they were talking about.
‘Now this is how I see it,’ his brother said. ‘We’ve got to hit Adamson in the pocket. See how he likes it.’
‘Aye, that’s right,’ the other two said in unison.
William wondered where this was leading.
‘And how do you think we could do the most damage?’ Thomas asked.
Matthew and Jack shook their heads.
‘Hawway, think about it. The steam trawlers are taking away our living. And which is the biggest and the best of the trawlers? The pride of Adamson’s fleet?’
‘The
Tyne Star
,’ Jack Chisholm said softly.
Tyne Star
,’ Jack Chisholm said softly.
‘Aye, that’s right,’ Matthew said. ‘Adamson spent a fortune on it, I’m told.’
‘Right.’ Thomas lowered his voice and leaned towards his two friends. ‘So what have we got to do, lads?’
William realized he was holding his breath.
Matthew and Jack frowned
‘Come on – it’s not that hard,’ Thomas said. ‘Use your brains. What we’ve got to do is sink her.’
Matthew was the first to speak. ‘You’re mad.’
Jack Chisholm said nothing. William could see he was uneasy.
‘Mad, am I?’ Thomas said. ‘Well, I’ll have you know that it wasn’t me that thought it up. It was your own brother, Jos.’
‘How could that be?’ Matthew asked. ‘Jos was drowned before Adamson took delivery of the
Star
.’
Star
.’
‘Yes, but not before news of it got out. We knew what Adamson was planning – and that there would be other boats just as big if not bigger. Jos wanted to hit him straight away. Show him that we wouldn’t stand for it. And if Jos had still been with us, we’d have done it by now.’
‘Jos never told me about this,’ Matthew said.
‘No. There was only me and him knew. He planned to tell you all once the boat was delivered.’
William wondered if this was the truth and decided it probably was. Thomas was a hothead but he wouldn’t have had the brains to think of something like this. Jos had been a clever lad and, what’s more, a natural leader. Thomas was right about one thing: if Jos hadn’t been drowned it was more than likely that the deed would have been done by now.
‘And did Jos tell you how we should go about it?’ Matthew asked.
‘Well, we’re not going to follow the bloody boat out to the fishing grounds and blow a hole in its side,’ Thomas said. He laughed.
‘That would be murder.’ It was the first time Jack Chisholm had spoken since Thomas had revealed the plan.
‘You mean the crew?’
‘Aye. If they caught us they’d string us up.’
‘I told you – that’s not the plan!’ Thomas flared.
Heads turned at the sound of his raised voice and Jack glared at him. Matthew looked uncomfortable.
‘Keep your voice down,’ Jack said, ‘and tell us what the plan is, then.’
Thomas leaned over the table and lowered his voice, forcing his friends to lower their heads too. William couldn’t help moving closer to his brother. He had to know what he was going to say.
‘We’ll sink it at its mooring at the fish quay.’ He planted his hands so firmly on the table to make his point that it shook, slopping beer from the glasses.
Matthew and Jack looked at him doubtfully.
‘Look, I’m telling you, it’ll not be hard to do. We get on board in the middle of the night—’
‘What if there’s a watchman on board?’ Matthew asked.
‘We knock him on the head and throw him in the river.’ Thomas paused and shook his head. ‘I wish you could see your faces,’ he said. ‘Of course we wouldn’t drown the man. We’ll . . . we’ll find some other way of dealing with him.’
Jack Chisholm hunched forward over the table. He looked down into his beer. ‘So we get him out of the way?’ He raised his head and looked at Thomas. ‘And did Jos say how you were going to sink the boat?’
‘Well, that’s easy, isn’t it? Like I said, we get on the boat in the middle of the night and we open the seacock. Then, down she’ll go.’
William had listened with growing consternation. He hoped that the other two lads would reject the idea there and then as being too risky. But he could see that, although Jack seemed to have reservations and Matthew was just plain scared, they were half convinced that the plan would work. He knew very well that was because Thomas had told them it was Jos’s idea. And perhaps it was. But it didn’t seem as if his sister’s sweetheart had got much beyond considering the possibilities. William couldn’t believe that he had made any definite plans.
‘Do you think we can get away with it?’ Matthew asked.
‘Aye, I do.’ Thomas turned towards William. ‘What about you, William? You’ve sat here saying nowt. What do you think of the plan?’
A voice in William’s head urged him to speak out and put an end to this madness. The enterprise was far too risky and those involved would almost certainly end up in prison doing hard labour for a very long time. And what would they have achieved? They certainly wouldn’t have done anything to help their families.
The demonstration outside the trawler owner’s house had left Mr Adamson in no doubt of the men’s feelings and yet he had done nothing to change his fishing methods. And nor would he. He had offered to help them find other jobs – even working for him. William believed the offer was genuine, but would he still feel that way if a bunch of young hotheads sunk the pride of his fleet?
He glanced at his brother and the other two lads. Their eyes were bright and their movements unsteady as they picked up their glasses. Their bellies were full of beer. It would do no good to speak now. Thomas would not thank him for disagreeing with him in front of his friends. It would seem disloyal. His younger brother would grow belligerent and William would lose any chance there might be of talking him out of the idea.
‘I don’t know what I think of it,’ he said slowly. But Thomas was already on the way to the bar to order another round.
Just as well. He wouldn’t say any more now, William decided. He would tackle Thomas when they were alone and try to convince him to drop the idea. And as for the other two, he had sensed they were not entirely happy about the plan. He could only hope that in the cold light of dawn their half-hearted enthusiasm for the idea would peter out completely.
The rain of the last few days had stopped and the air was fresh. It was late evening and Alice had told Kate to close the shop and go for a walk.
‘Go on, pet,’ she’d said. ‘It’ll do you good. You’ve been shut up in the shop for days. You need a bit break. And you can borrow my good cloak. It’s cold out there.’
Alice’s cloak was old fashioned, but it was good quality and heavy enough not to flap about in the freshening breeze. As Kate walked along the cliff-top path she was pleased to be able to pull the velvet-lined hood up over her head. She’d decided to walk along to the Long Sands at Tynemouth, the lovely stretch of fine pale sand where it was said the Vikings had beached their long boats when they came to rob the monks at the priory of their treasures.
Once down on the beach she was less exposed and she let the hood fall back as she walked along the shoreline. The sky was darkening and there was a scatter of early stars and a pale disc of a moon rising over the sea and sending a silvery path across the gently lapping waves right to the shore. If only I could step out on to that path, Kate mused. Where would it take me?
Kate remembered a poem that Jane had brought home from one of her elocution lessons. They had learned it together. It was a short poem – a sonnet, Kate remembered.
‘With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climbst the skies!
How silently and with how wan a face!’
She spoke the first two lines out loud as she looked up at the moon. Was the moon sad? It was a fanciful idea. She knew that poets had written about the moon since time began but she believed it was their own feelings they were describing as they looked up into the night sky.
Kate had thought she was alone on the beach so she was startled to hear a noise behind her. She turned just as a black shape hurtled into her and jumped up excitedly, giving every sign of being pleased to see her.
‘Prince,’ she said. ‘What are you doing here?’ Then, ‘Down,’ she commanded and the dog obediently sat and looked up at her with its head cocked on one side. ‘Where’s your master?’ Kate asked.
Trying to control a surge of hope she looked up in the direction of the cliff path and saw a figure making its way down the moonlit beach towards her. It was not Richard Adamson.
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