The Highwayman's Curse (6 page)

I
did not sleep easily that night. My head throbbed dully. Never had I slept with so many bodies in one room, and I do not think Bess had either. Tam, Jeannie and Old Maggie slept in the box-bed near the fire. Thomas and Jock slept at the other end of the dwelling, Jock on a pallet which they pulled from under a smaller box-bed, and Thomas on this box-bed, with Iona. I know not where they normally slept. I think perhaps Jeannie and Jock would have had the main box-bed. With Tam? Or Iona? I did not know about the others. I only knew that in my own home we had each had a separate bed and that in the homes of the poor there was much need to share.

The corpse still lay at the other end of the dwelling, the trestle table pushed to one side.

Billy sat hunched by the window, with the shutter a little way open – he watched, for what I knew not. Calum still had not returned from wherever he was. Mouldy and Red also were not with us – perhaps they had one of the other two cottages around the yard. And Hamish was at his own abode over the hill, I had learnt. Bess and I lay near the fire, the floor hard and lumpy beneath us, but we were warm enough under the thick, hairy blankets that Jeannie found for us.

Iona had become silent again as we went inside. She would not look at Old Maggie. She had kissed her father, Thomas, good night, and Jeannie had ruffled her hair and wrapped her round in her big arms, but Iona seemed not to like this. She shrank away and looked cross, as though too old for such things.

Jeannie bade us sleep while we could because we would be woken early. No one told us why, until Iona had said we would be “running a cargo”, which I did not fully understand but took to be a seaman's term. I would not show my ignorance in front of the girl, although she was softening towards us slightly and I to her. There was a silent anger about her, which I was coming to understand. She was trapped in a hopeless world. She must have felt weighed down by the curse that she believed hung over her.

Lying awake on a cold night, alone with her thoughts, she must have feared what might happen to her. As I had, when the man had cursed me. “The devil take the sheriff's son!” he had said, with all the poison and hatred he could muster. And still I feared those words sometimes, though I was far away now and I considered myself no longer the sheriff's son. I had paid for my father's sins, had I not? Had I not done enough to shake off the power of any curse, especially one that was wrongly made?

But could I be entirely sure?

One thing I didn't worry about as I tried to sleep that night – the horses. We had seen to them before we slept and they were dry and comfortable, with some dusty oats and fresh water. These people might be harsh in their treatment of fellow men but of their beasts they would take good care. We had been given back our saddlebags too, and though they contained little of value it meant something to me that we were now trusted by these men. Not that I wished to stay long, of course, but I felt that we were safe at least for a while.

Our pistols and swords were not returned to us, not yet.

The fire hissed and crackled, sometimes spitting a violent spark onto the hearth. Snoring there was aplenty, and the muttering of men sleeping uneasily. Every now and then, Tam moaned in his sleep and I peered at him through the darkness, hoping that he was not slipping into fever. And from outside came the faraway crashing of waves and the nearby whishing of a night wind ruffling the heather-lined thatch above us. Every now and then, a draught from the window moved the spinning-wheel a little, and then it settled with a click.

The scrawny dogs licked themselves regularly with a wet slapping sound. Eventually, someone sent them outside, where I suppose they found shelter where they could.

But more than these noises, it was my thoughts that kept me awake.

I had changed in the last few weeks since running from home. My reasons for leaving seemed like a story from another life. Did it matter now that my father and my brother had despised me so? They had been wrong, and I had punished them in full.

At first Bess had shown me how to survive, but now I needed no one to show me. That thought was strong and good. Yet the future seemed full of confusion. I did not know where I was going, what choices I might have, what chances. I could see the silhouette of the spinning-wheel in the darkness and the image came to my mind of the three Fates, spinning our lives for us, the thread twisting and strengthening, then weakening, then snapping on a whim.

At last, I must have slept, because it seemed a very small time before I was woken by the confusion of voices and other commotion. Someone was shaking my shoulder. It took many moments before I remembered where I was. My mouth felt horribly dry, hunger making my tongue taste foul.

In guttering candlelight and the glow from a quiet fire, Thomas and Jock were pulling on their jackets and boots. Mouldy, Red and Billy were there too, taking up items such as rope, and sacks, and fastening them about their bodies.

Few words were spoken. Jeannie bustled around, giving the men hunks of bread and some cheese, which they ate, ripping at the food with their teeth. She gave the same to Bess and to me. “Do as ye are tellt, and no harm will come,” she said quietly. She touched Bess's shoulder, as a woman to a girl, and stroked a finger on her cheek. Bess smiled back at her.

Two men removed the chest from its place alongside the wall and brushed aside the dirt, revealing once more the trapdoor. I shivered as the dank smell of the sea rose through the opening.

Tam still slept, as did Old Maggie. Iona stared up from where she lay, saying nothing.

Calum returned, rushing through the door. Wild-eyed he looked, with exhaustion and excitement together. He carried an unusually large lantern. “Well done, laddie,” said Jock.

“Ye're sure, now?” asked Thomas. “'Tis the right one?”

“Aye, I'm sure,” said Calum with some irritation, pushing his hair from his eyes. “The signal was good and strong and they saw mine too.” He glanced at the lantern as he said this. He looked towards his father but Thomas had turned away.

Now Jock spoke to Bess and to me. “Now we'll see if ye can be o' help or no'. And if no', then ye'll ken too much and ye may guess what'll befall ye.” We nodded. Although his voice seemed full of vigour now, I could see traces of exhaustion, and perhaps pain, in his eyes. Was he merely ageing or was it more? “Then follow close. If ye lose a step, the waves are waiting. This is no' for the faint-hearted. This is our business, our way o' life. And if ye're no' wi' us, then the devil or the exciseman can take ye.”

At the mention of the exciseman, I began to know what we were about. My heart started to race. Smuggling! Buying goods before the taxes were paid to the King, and then selling them to those who would happily buy illegal goods.

Breaking the law. Was I not accustomed to that now? I had already joined Bess's life as a highway robber, robbing the rich to help the poor, and if we were sometimes the poor, then it seemed fair and reasonable. I knew not what the rights or wrongs of a smuggler's life were, but I had learned enough to hold my tongue and wait to know more. Besides, did I have a choice?

Jock, Red, and Calum went before us. Billy, Mouldy and Thomas went behind. Hamish was not with us.

When it was my turn, taking a deep breath, I swung my legs down through the trapdoor. Cold air rushed up from below and the darkness seemed to swell, hanging over the lip of the hole, drawing me down into it.

I
found metal rungs set into the wall for hands and feet. Bess came after me and I could hear her breathing as she climbed down, her feet just above my head. Darkness was below, only a dim light above, and I must rely on my other senses and try to remain alert.

After perhaps twenty or thirty steps downwards, I reached level ground. Someone called to me. Very dimly, I could make out the shapes of the men pressed against the wall of a narrow passageway. I stepped off the bottom rung and went over to them. Soon Bess stood beside me.

Thomas, the last man to climb down, brought a burning peat brand with him. With it, he lit another lump of peat on the end of a stick, this one held by Jock, and now I could see properly. Steam rose like spectral breath from the damp walls of the narrow passage and smoke stung my eyes. The faces were ghostly and hollow, but I took comfort from their presence, though I knew them little enough, and not yet enough to trust them fully.

We made our way down a steeply sloping passage. “Mind your heads,” said Red. And indeed, sometimes the passage was not high enough for me to walk upright. Strangely shaped rocks protruded, and thin stone shards hung down, sharp enough to slice the skin of an unwitting passer-by.

Few words were spoken. The only sounds were the soft crunching of loose stones underfoot, the occasional curse as someone slipped on the steep slope, and the distant noise of water: waves, roaring and crashing against rock. Hollow and echoing. Coming closer.

These were the waves that would have caused our end. How terrible it would be to drown in a quickly rising tide. At first an occasional wave would splash against a victim's mouth. He would stretch his neck upwards, pushing his face as high from the water as possible, yet knowing that this would only delay death by a few terrifying moments. He would arch his neck, turn his face to the sky, closing his mouth as each wave came, faster and faster now. He would take deep breaths, hold his mouth tight shut, refuse to take a new breath in while the water covered his face, gasp as the wave receded, snatch ever smaller, ever more frantic breaths. As the water rose, wave by wave, rhythmically, like the heartbeat of the ocean, the salty brine would lap into the open nose and mouth, choking, bitter in the back of the throat, bubbling in the lungs. He would be overcome with helpless coughing, until there was no room for air to pass, and soon he would be still. Then, at last, the waves would wash over his eyes and the top of his head. I did not know how long it might take, how long one might struggle, at what point one would give up. Or would one ever give up? Would one struggle until death took choice away or would one choose the final breath and then slip into Heaven with a smile? I did not know.

We moved quickly downwards, the slope steepening all the while. The noise of the waves came closer still. The air was thick with salty spray, too fine to see, yet dampening the face and hair, stinging the eyes. The torches fizzed and spat.

“Hold!” The man in front of me raised his hand. It was Jock. He turned to look at us. “We are near the most dangerous part. 'Tis just past high tide and the water rises in the tunnel to this place. Ye've to jump o'er the water. One slip and ye'll drown. Watch Billy and do as he does.”

We walked a few yards, following Billy and Jock. Suddenly, without warning, a plume of water shot up in front of them, with a hissing roar. It fell back down again. Moments later came another, and then another. We gathered round what appeared to be a hole in the rock below us, with the sea forced upwards at every wave.

The noise here was immense, the all-powerful crashing of a furious, greedy ocean.

“Watch!” shouted Jock, pointing at Billy. Billy was standing at the edge of the hole, waiting. Another plume shot into the air and, as it began to fall, Billy leapt, landing on the other side with a grunt of effort. He turned and grinned.

With a tightening in my chest, a shiver of horror, I understood that we would need to do the same. Could I do it? Bess and I looked at each other.

Now Jock waited for the next wave to pass. But he did not jump – instead he threw the burning brand and Billy caught it easily. Now I could see properly where he stood, on a wide ledge, flat and safe, though over a gap larger than I would wish to leap, especially in the wet and slippery conditions.

With a roar, an immense wave shot into the air and I leapt back.

After the next wave, Jock leapt over the gap and was caught by Billy. My surprise was great: Jock was an elderly man, and yet he leapt that terrifying space – not easily, I may say, yet without fear.

Now it was our turn. I looked at Bess. “I'll go first,” she said. Her eyes shone. She had no fear of this. Strangely, suddenly, I felt no fear either. This was an adventure and we were working together. We need make no decisions, only act. It seemed somewhat unreal, like a dream, in this wet underground world of noise and shadows and burning peat brands and cold, dripping walls.

She stood poised on the edge, waiting for the next wave. With a frothing crash it came. “Now!” shouted the men, and Bess leapt. Billy and Jock grasped her arms and pulled her towards them, though they had no need to do so.

Another pause, another crash, another shout, “Now!” and I was over, before I had time even to think, to consider the raging waves beneath me. I caught a glimpse of the cold sea's hungry maw, its tongues swirling. With a grin of relief, I joined the others, pressed against the wall. And within a few more moments, we were all over.

What now? There seemed nowhere to go, only a few steps hewn into the rock face, but no passageway, no opening, just bare dripping rock. I watched Billy. He climbed strongly up the few steps, then turned and pointed. Jock went after him. More cautiously, I followed and saw where Billy meant.

Back over the swirling passageway, across the hole again, though higher up and onto another ledge.

This time the gap was wider. Surely he could not jump so far with safety?

Billy handed the torch to Jock, took a deep breath and launched himself over the abyss.

B
illy landed on the other side, throwing his body forward with astonishing agility for one of his large frame, and grasping onto something. When Jock threw the peat brand and Billy caught it, I saw that it was a rope, looped over a projecting rock. This he swung a few times and then threw the free end for Jock to catch.

I tried to ignore a dizzy fear that came over me when I looked down at the raging waves below. They were like a caged wild beast that snaps and snatches at the people passing, a beast too strong for the flimsy bars.

This was something these men must have done many times. And Tam must have done it with them, for I remembered that Bess was here to replace him, being smaller and thinner than the rest of us.

I must trust myself to these men.

Jock was preparing to leap. He held the rope, winding it round one wrist, and rocked back and forth a few times before launching himself across the gap. And then I saw the need for the rope – he had not the speed and strength of Billy and without the rope he would surely have fallen backwards into the waves. Indeed, for a terrible moment, I thought he would not reach the other side – his legs seemed to falter and weaken as he leapt. But he was able to use the rope to pull himself forward, and, with an effort which I think he tried to hide, he was over.

Bess and I must now do the same.

I took the rope, winding it round my wrist as I had seen Jock do. I looked over the edge. The waters were black, with spume like white teeth, snapping fiercely against the sides of the tunnel, sending their fountains of water high every few moments. My mouth was dry, my skin cold. A weakness spread through my legs.

“Dinna look down!” shouted Red.

“Jump!” shouted Billy.

I jumped. But I did not jump with enough strength. I did not swing back and forth before my jump as Jock had done, and my foot slipped a little as I leapt. Only a little, but it was enough.

My feet crashed against the other side of the tunnel, too low, inches lower than the ledge I was aiming for. Frantically, I scraped at the rocks with my boots, dislodging pieces of stone. Only the rope round my wrist held me, and the screaming muscles in my shoulder. I was flung sideways, my hip and arm crashing into the rock face, and I hung, desperately trying to find footholds.

Panic rushed through me and I think I cried out. A wave sent its icy water over my back. I hung there, dangling uselessly against the rock face, the rope pressing so painfully into my wrist that I could barely keep my fingers closed.

With an even sharper pain in my shoulder, I felt myself being hauled upwards, until my other hand could reach the ledge. Then that hand too was grasped and I found myself being dragged onto the shelf by Billy and Jock, my thighs scraping against the sharp stones.

They said nothing to me. Only unwound the rope from my wrist and called for Bess to jump. They had no need to say anything.

Moments later, Bess landed beside me, her face white and wide-eyed. I rubbed my wrist. I could feel bruises on my side. “I'll jump further the next time,” I said, smiling, as though I had not noticed how close death had come.

“Watching you made me jump the further – I should thank you for that!” and she smiled at me too.

Within only a little more time, everyone was safely over and we now followed a rough passageway. Often we had to climb over huge boulders or squeeze between rocks the size of a man, through a space smaller than my shoulder width. Several times, I saw tiny caves in the rock wall. Some were big enough for a man to hide in. All were pitch black. Once or twice I heard something scuttle away. I knew not what creatures could inhabit these caves and passages, with their wet and slimy walls: a lightless, dank world without heart.

After some time spent stumbling, my body was beginning to cry out with pain, my legs quivering. I did my best to keep a good pace, wishing not to show any further weakness. Bess, too, was breathing heavily. We were used to riding horses for many miles, but this was different. I tried to ignore my exhaustion and laboured breathing, and simply keep my mind on placing each foot safely for the next step.

The sounds of the crashing waves could no longer be heard. The salty smell of the sea was fainter now, or else I was accustomed to it. Our torches grew dimmer as the peat burned down. What would we do when they burnt out entirely? We would be in complete blackness.

But I need not wonder for long because without warning we had come to the end of the passageway. With one more clambering step, I was out of the tunnel and in an open space. Pausing to recover my breath, I looked around in amazement. We were in an enormous cave, the size of a small church, though not quite as high, its ceiling vaulted by the natural arches carved by centuries of wind and water.

Here the air was surprisingly fresh, and the floor almost entirely dry. My fear about the peat torches was answered, for Billy took them both and with them lit three more clods from a pile in a corner. He then placed each of them in braziers around the space, all made ready for such a need.

I wished to look around some more but there was no time. We were being led to the left towards one end of the cave, where the floor sloped suddenly downwards. Some roughly cut steps descended steeply into a space which became narrower. Now I could hear the waves again, and a whining wind weaving its way through the slits and fissures in the stones. We came to the bottom of the steps, and the space opened up around us somewhat. There was room for us all to stand quite easily.

But where would we go? In front of us was nothing more than a small hole near the ground.

And it was too small for us to pass through.

Was it not?

Jock looked at Bess. “Now ye must earn your keep.”