Black Wreath (21 page)

James took this as a sign that the gods were on his side. After
they had eaten their meal, James quietly gathered his few supplies and walked out into the night. He desperately wanted to take his leave of Amelia but didn’t want to put her in the position of knowing what he was about, and he knew too that she would do her best to talk him out of his plans. She would say he was foolish and headstrong, that he should serve his time and then walk out a free man.

‘You only have to wait,’ she’d often said to him, the knowledge of her own endless servitude in her eyes.

But James couldn’t wait. He had only one thought, to get as far away as possible from Mackenzie’s farm and on a ship back to Dublin.

He had to content himself with a last look back at the sleeping quarters before walking towards the boundary where he had been working all day. It took him a lot longer than it had that morning, and his heart beat wildly as he clambered through the dark, torn between the need to pick his way carefully through the undergrowth and the desire to run as fast as his body would allow him. He forced himself to be calm. It would be madness to give in to panic now. Eventually he reached the fence. He heard nothing behind him to indicate that he was missed. Ahead of him lay a vast expanse of alien land. He shivered in the cold night air. Then he climbed over the fence.

Twenty-Eight

‘We have to bring him back'

H
er father was telling a long story about some incident in the market. Sylvia heard the words but didn't take anything in. She speared a little meat with her fork and lifted it half-heartedly. She seemed to be doing everything half-heartedly these days. It was hard to concentrate on anything. The world that had been so familiar to her was now a strange and cold place, and her position in it very uncertain. Her sleep was filled with images of ships tossing and turning on wild seas, as if her own bed was a frail boat caught in a storm. Who knows if James had even survived his terrible journey? And if he had, what had happened to him then? She knew he had strength, but he was not a big, brawny lad, and his life on the streets hadn't left much meat on his bones.

She felt a rush of tenderness as she thought of him. Her parents didn't know about her dealings with Jack Darcy. They would have been shocked to find out she'd been consorting
with a criminal like him and horrified if they knew she'd put Darcy up to committing an attack on Lord Dunmain. But she'd have to tell them what had happened to James because she couldn't bring him back herself. She didn't intend to sit on her knowledge – the information she'd extracted from the ledger in the Tholsel was only the beginning, and she wouldn't rest until she'd put it to some use.

Her father was still talking. Her mother was listening in a kind of dreamy, abstracted way. She didn't talk about James much any more, but Sylvia knew she missed him.

‘I know where he is,' Sylvia said suddenly.

Her father stopped his story. ‘What do you mean?' he said.

‘I know where James is.'

There was a startled pause. Nancy's look of dreamy abstraction had vanished and she looked hard at Sylvia. ‘Where is he?'

That was a good start, Sylvia thought, not
how do you know
but
where is he
?

‘He is on a ship on his way to the New World. Given into servitude by his uncle.'

Her father's eyes narrowed. ‘You didn't find that out by reading a newspaper. Who told you?'

Sylvia shrugged. ‘I found someone who knew.' She pressed ahead. ‘We can't leave him. We have to go there. We have to bring him back.'

She didn't mean it to come out so nakedly. Her parents looked at each other.

‘Sylvia,' John Purcell said, ‘you know how much we care for James, ever since that day I carried him back from Smithfield.
But if what you say is true, I don't think we can save him.'

Sylvia's eyes flashed angrily. ‘How can you say that?' she said. ‘We can't abandon him now that he needs us most. We have to do something.'

‘But what?' her father said. ‘We're simple people, Sylvia. What can we do? We can't just jump on a boat and rescue the lad. It's not that easy. It's the most dangerous crossing in the world. We'd be lucky to get to the other side alive.'

‘It may not be easy, Father, but we still have to do it. He's one of us now,' Sylvia said.

She meant much more than that, but she couldn't say it out. She looked at her mother for support. Her mother's face was creased with worry.

‘I don't know, love,' she said. ‘It's such a long way. To lose James is terrible. But I couldn't bear to lose you and John as well. I couldn't bear it.'

Sylvia reached across and took her mother's hand.

‘You won't lose us,' she said. ‘Many people make that journey and live to tell the tale. Isn't that right, Father?'

John Purcell was no more convinced than his wife, but he tried to look as if they talking about an undertaking no more perilous than a trip across a river ferry.

‘She's right,' he said. ‘After all, there'd be no New World if people couldn't get there.'

But Nancy wasn't to be fobbed off. ‘I know you want my blessing, child, but no matter how much I love James, I can't bring myself to give it.' And she left the room without another word.

They sat in silence a while. But Sylvia couldn't keep quiet for long.

‘We have to try, don't we? We have to at least try?'

There was such force in her voice that John Purcell gripped the edge of the table.

‘Alright,' he said. ‘What do you want to do?'

‘Thank you,' she said, ‘I knew you'd help. For the moment all we can do is wait until the captain of the ship returns to Dublin. Then we can find out what happened to James.'

‘Don't tell me any more,' her father said, ‘I can guess the rest. It will take some doing to get your mother used to the idea. And we're going to need money, lots of it. Did you happen to think about that?'

Sylvia was relieved that his objections had crumbled and they had progressed to practical matters.

‘I have some ideas about that,' she said. ‘There are many here who know James, who might be persuaded to give a little for his release. Maybe the school might help.'

She had other ideas too, but these she kept to herself.

‘You really want him back, don't you?' her father said.

There was no hesitation in Sylvia's voice. ‘Yes,' she said. ‘I do.'

She didn't waste any time putting her plan of action into effect. She let it be known throughout the neighbourhood that a fund was being created to rescue James.

‘Is it Lord Bluecoat you mean?' she was asked more than once, and she discovered that the name was widespread in the area. As she travelled further, she found that James's nickname
and his story had spread there too. When she crossed the river to tell Harry her plans, she was surprised that Lord Bluecoat's fame was even well known in the southern districts.

‘Many knew about him before,' Harry said, ‘but the name Lord Bluecoat seems to have stuck. It's a good thing, too – it keeps his name alive. The more famous his story, the less his uncle will like it.'

Harry looked directly at Sylvia. ‘There's one other thing,' he said.

‘What?'

Harry shifted on his feet. ‘I know I don't have any means,' he said. ‘And a shoeblack isn't worth much in the world, but I want to help …'

‘Of course, Harry, that's very kind. And all help is very welcome.'

‘No,' Harry said, ‘I mean I want to come with you. I want to help you find him.' He grinned. ‘I'm not the tallest,' he added, ‘but I'm handy with my fists. You never know when that might come in handy.'

Sylvia was taken by surprise, but of course it made sense. And it would be good to have Harry along.

‘You'll need sea legs as well as fists,' she smiled, and Harry saluted.

‘Aye, aye, Cap'n.'

Contributions to the fund flowed in through the weeks that followed. Even the habitués of Red Molly's were persuaded to part with some of the fruits of their trade and, though she knew it was wrong, Sylvia accepted the money
for the greater good that might come out of it. And Darcy even funded Harry's passage. ‘You can thank a drunk old lord for his generosity,' he grinned, and Sylvia thought it prudent not to inquire further.

It was late summer when the captain returned. It was a friend of Harry's who spotted him drinking in a tavern. As soon as he heard, Harry ran to Phoenix Street with the news. Sylvia ran to Ormond Market and found her father in his stall.

‘Alright,' he said, removing his bloody apron. ‘We'll go there now and see what we can find out.'

The captain was still at the tavern when they arrived, sitting at a table in the corner tucking into a large dish of mutton. John Purcell and Sylvia walked straight over and sat down. The captain looked up, none too pleased.

‘There's plenty of other tables,' he said. ‘Why crowd me?'

‘We want some information from you,' John Purcell said.

The captain grew uncomfortable as Purcell explained what he wanted.

‘How can you expect me to remember every passenger on the ship? Do you know how many we carry?'

‘You'd remember this one,' Sylvia said. ‘Because he shouldn't have been on it.'

The captain looked at Sylvia properly for the first time. He wasn't used to a girl's voice addressing him, and this one seemed unusually forthright. Something about her compelled attention.

‘Someone paid you to take him,' Sylvia followed up. ‘We know who was behind it. We just want to know what happened to the boy.'

The captain looked around the tavern. It was crowded; there were many folk who knew him.

‘You know how to spoil a man's grub, I'll give you that,' he said to Sylvia.

He pushed his dish away and took a good slug from his glass before standing up.

‘A bit of fresh air, I think,' he announced and began pushing through the crowd.

John Purcell and Sylvia followed him out to the quay. The shriek of gulls filled the air.

The captain considered the Purcells. ‘Why should I tell you anything?' he said evenly.

John Purcell replied in the same even tone, ‘Because if you don't, you'll find yourself dealing with the Ormond Boys, and that'll be just the start of it.'

‘I thought you'd say something like that,' the captain said. And then he told them what they wanted to know.

‘Do you trust him?' Sylvia asked her father as they walked back along the quay.

‘Not much,' her father replied. ‘But it sounded convincing enough.'

‘There's only one way to find out,' Sylvia said.

‘Are you sure about this, Sylvia?' her father said. ‘It's a great undertaking. And dangerous. Do you know that?'

‘I know it,' Sylvia said. ‘But if what the captain said is true, then James needs us desperately.'

Her father made no reply.

They walked in silence along the river and got on a ferry. As
they crossed the water, her father suddenly spoke. ‘I've heard tell the ships from the north are safer,' he said. ‘We could get a passage from Newry.'

Sylvia's heart leapt. She knew she could trust her father. And for the first time since James had vanished, she felt sure that she would see him again. Yet now that the journey seemed real, she also felt a twinge of anxiety, and the thought of leaving her mother behind filled her with dread.

At last the day came for the journey to begin. Sylvia hardly slept at all the night before and when she rose it was a long time before the first light penetrated the small window of her room. Even so, when she came downstairs Nancy was already bustling about the kitchen, boiling oatmeal for breakfast. Sylvia couldn't bear the thought of food.

‘Your stomach will thank you later,' Nancy said. ‘You'll need all your strength for the journey.'

Sylvia knew her mother didn't want her to go – she thought the plan was foolish and dangerous. But she had stopped protesting now: she knew how set her daughter was on it, and she knew better than to argue with her when her mind was made up.

John Purcell came into the kitchen with a heavy tread. He took his wife's hands in his and looked her in the eye. ‘Nancy,' he said, and for what seemed like an age he said nothing more. ‘You know you'll see me again, woman, don't you?'

‘Oh John, I only wish I did!' There were tears in Nancy's eyes but she blinked them back fiercely.

Sylvia looked away and tried to force the oatmeal down.
There was a soft rapping on the door and when she opened it Harry stepped in, shyly saluting the family. His few belongings were wrapped in a small cloth bag, as if he might be travelling from one part of the city to another instead of halfway across the world.

‘I'll look after your family, Missus, don't you worry,' Harry said, and, in spite of herself, Nancy laughed. ‘You'd better, at that,' she said.

Soon, even at that early hour, the little house was filled with well-wishers who'd come to see them off to the coach that would take them north on the greatest journey of their lives.