The Blighted Cliffs (43 page)

'Well,
that's a question fer you, ain't it?' One that Squires seemed in no
hurry to answer. 'I wonders 'ow you'd value it?'

'I
wonder how you value your neck,' Cunningham retorted. 'Do you presume
to barter with his Majesty's justice?'

'Never,
sir,' said Squires plaintively. 'But the truth of it is, sir, that me
neck's in a tight spot already. If I doesn't talk to you, you'll 'ang
me, an' fair enough. But if I does talk to you, there's Others oo'll
be none too pleased, oo'11 not be wantin' to vote me Lord Mayor o'
Dover, if you takes my meanin'.'

'We've
no need to waste time bribing this felon,' interrupted Bingham. 'We
can as easily mount patrols along every inch of the coast tomorrow
night.'

"Ardly,
sir,' grinned the smuggler. 'We's there near to every night, and
there's no-one sees us most times.'

'We
saw you yesterday,' I objected. 'That's why you're here.'

'So
you did, sir, so you did. But I reckon you 'ad a stroke o' luck when
me shipmates tipped me overboard to lose some weight.' He gave a
rueful chuckle. 'All's I'm sayin',' he continued, 'is that you got me
cos you got lucky. Now, you could run your luck some more, but it's
not served you so well of late, and per'aps you'd not care to gamble
on it with so much to be lost. But if you knowed somethin' privy,
sirs, well, that might change the shine o' the odds for you, might
mark the cards for you so to speak. An' you could be knowin'
somethin' privy, somethin' to let you get all the rest o' them what
plugged me tomorrer night, if you just treat with me like gen'lemen.'

'More
like a gambler, I think,' said Cunningham coldly. 'And whatever you
may tell us, why should we think to act on the word of a smuggler?'

'Cos
you'll not find an honest gen'leman oo'll tell what I can tell you.
An' cos you know I'd rather see someone else's neck being' stretched
on your gibbet for what I said than be there meself for what I'd not
said. An' cos I reckon you'd do right by a man what proved 'imself a
friend to you. You'd set me up right enough, some where where me face
weren't known an' the gang couldn't get me. Send me to Bristol,
per'aps. There's a lot o' ways a man can disappear in Bristol, I'm
told. You might even see to givin' me a small slice o' the goods
recovered, if you was feelin' generous.'

'I'll
send you to Botany Bay if you don't watch your tongue,' snapped
Cunningham, but I could see that he, like all of us, was beginning to
come around to the smuggler's persuasion.

'If
you have dealt honestly with us, we shall remember it,' said Crawley
evenly. 'Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord, but they that
deal truly are His delight.'

'Bless
you, rev'rend,' said the smuggler. 'I'll be takin' that as your word
on scripture, then.' He looked up, scanning our faces. Nobody
contradicted him.

'Where
is this landing to be?' asked Crawley.

Squires
settled back against the wall. 'Saint Marg'ret's, your grace. Big
landin'. Biggest since the Cambridge landin' three years back, though
you'll not've 'card o' that, of course.'

'Saint
Margaret's?' Bingham was incredulous. 'But there's a village there.
Hardly the spot for a secret landing.'

'The
villagers'll all be indoors then, won't they?' said Squires. 'They
doesn't need to be told to watch the wall when we're about.'

'And
what's the cargo to be?' asked Crawley.

Squires
shrugged. "Ollands, calicoes, brandy, bacca, tubs o' this an'
that comin' in. But goin' back out, that's the one you want. Fifty
thousand golden portraits o' George, all goin' over to show the
Frenchies what a proper king looks like. Now that'd be worth some
thin' to you, sirs.'

For
a moment there was silence in the gaol, all save a quiet wheezing
from somewhere deeper in. Cunningham's face was seized with a naked
hunger, Bingham looked astonished, while Crawley's habitually stern
mouth dangled open.

'Fifty
thousand guineas?' asked Crawley at last. 'You'd need half a fleet to
transport so much brandy.'

'An'
a few ships more to keep it comfortable on the voyage,' agreed
Squires. 'An' a few more to carry the Froggy soldiers what's to guard
the landin' an' loadin'. Oh yes.' He nodded. 'They says Boney don't
want to risk no chances with this. For fifty thousand guineas, I'd
not argue. 'E's sendin' 'alf a legion of 'is best to make sure
nothin' falls in the water.'

Again
the room was still, our group torn between those who clearly thought
this a fantasy and those who deemed it possible. All of us, though, I
think, wanted to believe it.

'So,
tomorrow night Buonaparte is sending a battalion of his soldiers to
Saint Margaret's bay to hand over fifty thousand guineas' worth of
contraband, assisted by your colleagues?' Bingham tugged at a stray
lock of his red hair, disbelief rampant on his face. 'Impossible.'

'Like
I said, sir, we does it near to every night. Oo's to notice a few
more tubs an' a few Froggies with us? Saint Marg'ret's, tomorrer
night,' he repeated. 'Go there an' you'll see it. I'd not go alone,
though.'

'And
at what time?'

'Mercy,
sir, it's a landin' not the mail coach. You can't set your clock to
it. It'll be somewhere 'tween sundown an' sunup, but likely near the
top o' the tide.'

Squires
sat back, clearly convinced he had earned his freedom. Judging by the
faces of my companions, he was probably justified in his confidence.

Cunningham
cleared his throat. 'I think, gentlemen, that we might adjourn
somewhere more salubrious to discuss this intelligence. Perhaps to
the guildhall. Fewer ears to hear our secrets.'

I
turned to Crawley. ‘If I may, sir, I would like to remain here
a few minutes. This man may know something concerning the death of Mr
Vitos.'

The
idea had been distracting me ever since I'd arrived. I half
recollected that I'd heard the name Danny mentioned that night, and I
was curious whether the Daniel Squires before me could shed any light
on the matter. I was also wary of raising the name of Mazard before
the suspicious ears of Sir Lawrence.

'Very
well,' said Crawley, clearly keen to be away. 'I suppose the turnkey
will let you out and lock the gate.'

I
had forgotten Gibble, standing behind us with the lantern all this
time in silence. Now, though, he moved.

'Glarch,'
he mumbled. 'Vregh.'

'It
is his lunch hour,' translated Cunningham. 'Keeping the gaol is
hungry work.'

'He
can give me the key, and I shall lock it after myself,' I said
impatiently. 'Doubtless we shall be making sail soon, and I do not
wish to lose this opportunity to establish my good name.'

Cunningham
raised his hooded eyelids, eloquently speaking everything he thought
about my good name. Then he shrugged.

'Give
him the key, Gibble.'

With
much fussing and tugging, the thick ring of keys came away from
Gibble's belt. I managed to avoid the touch of his fingers as I took
it from him, but I could not escape the stickiness on the cold iron
which left me feeling immediately soiled. I might well require
Crawley and his bucket of water again after this.

'Shall
I have Stubb stay to protect you?' Cunningham asked solicitously.

'He's
wearing enough chains to set an anchor. I believe I will be safe.'

'We
shall see you shortly in the guildhall,' said Crawley.

Then
he and the rest of them were gone, and I was left alone with the
prisoner.

'So,'
I said, a touch awkwardly. 'As you will know, a man named Vitos
tragically fell off a cliff some eleven days ago, before dawn on a
Monday morning. There were smugglers there. One of them was called
Danny.'

Squires
raised his eyes. 'Lots of us by the name o' Danny.'

'You
were there,' I said, attempting a confrontational approach.

'Beggin'
yet pardon, sir, but I weren't.'

'Yes
you were.'

He
opened his eyes wide as a child's. 'I weren't, sir. Otherwise, o'
course, I'd be all quick to 'elp. Ain't never 'card o' Mister Vatos
neither, afore you asks.'

'Vitos.
Nor Laminak nor Webb, I suppose?'

'Sorry,
sir.' He affected genuine regret, though I did not believe it.

'How
about these fifty thousand guineas, then?' I asked, changing
tack. 'Where are they at the moment?'

Squires
looked at me as though I were feeble. 'If I knowed that, sir, I'd
not've been riskin' my life with 'alf a pound o' tea yesterday, would
I? I'd be ridin' a carriage in St James's.'

'Flat
on your back in an alehouse, more likely. So you wouldn't know
whether Mr Mazard, the banker down on Strond Street, happens to have
the gold locked in his vault right now?'

I
was standing very close over him, staring into those deceitful eyes
with uncompromising venom. And, for a second, I saw him drop his
gaze, before he lifted it again with restored vigour.

'Mr
Mazard's a gen'leman, and worse'n that, a friend o' Sir Lawrence
Cunningham's. You'd sooner find 'im throwin' 'is money in the pent
than 'avin' dealin's with the likes of us.'

I
stepped back. There was no doubting the simple logic of Squires'
words, and no crack in the impertinent calm with which he delivered
them, yet they decided me once and for all that Mazard must be at the
centre of this. There was the obvious question as to why an
imprisoned smuggler, with little to lose, would pass up an
opportunity to slander an eminent citizen, most especially one with
close ties to the magistrate. But more than that there was the manner
of his words, a manner I remembered well from my schooldays of boys
with a ridiculous piece of poetic bombast committed to memory, trying
to get it out without catching the master's eye and bursting into
laughter.

'Asides,'
added Squires, shifting his manacled weight into a more comfortable
position, 'you might want to watch what good names you questions,
Lieutenant. Just think what I could tell the magistrate if 'e comes
askin' about what I knows about you.'

I
resisted the impulse to kick him. If he lied, he would get his
justice in time; if he told the truth, I might just snatch enough
glory with the fifty thousand guineas to vindicate myself in my
uncle's eyes. And if Mazard were involved, perhaps the truth of it
would come out on the beach the following night, when we apprehended
his associates. Boiling with frustration, and glaring as ferociously
as I could, I marched out of that miserable place. For what it
matters, I still believe I locked the gate behind me.

I
made for the guildhall, but Crawley was already descending its steps.