Bill and The Mary Ann Shaughnessy Read online

  Mr Leech now took a pair of shoes from the bandy-legged man’s hand and threw them down by Joe’s side, adding, ‘And if you’re a good boy and behave yourself we might let you put them on again. Heroes always die with their shoes on, don’t they, Joe? Which hero have you identified yourself with? Come on, tell me…Have you lost your tongue?’

  ‘I…I’ll tell you this,’ stammered Joe. ‘They’ll find us afore long an’ you’ll get it in the neck, you’ll see. You…you’re worse than the lot of them you are, pretendin’ to be a nice man…’

  ‘I am a nice man, Joe. If I hadn’t been a nice man I would have let Sloper here do what he wanted to, on the morning he found you snooping around.’

  ‘I wasn’t snooping, I’ve told you; it was an empty house and I just looked in.’

  ‘And saw too much, Joe, too much for your own good. And I did my best to warn you and your two friends off before, didn’t I? But you wouldn’t take a hint. Still, I repeat, I am a nice man else at this moment your body would be at the bottom of the river, somewhere out in the Wash I imagine by now. You’ll be interested to know they’re still dredging the river, Joe. Exciting, isn’t it? And your two friends…you’ll be wanting to know about your two friends. Well, it’s hard to convince them that you are dead, Joe. Do you know, we spent most of yesterday afternoon together looking for you, Joe? We went right up the Wissey, through the lakes to Stoke Ferry. And then you know what your friend, Jonathan, suggested? He suggested we should try the Brandon…wasn’t that silly of him? Well, a funny thing happened to stop him, because, after they’d had tea on The Night Star and went back to their little Mary Ann Shaughnessy—I still think that’s a quaint name for a boat—they found that their engine wouldn’t start. Something had happened to the lead of the self-starter and to their sparking plugs. Mr Murphy here’—Mr Leech now indicated the bandy-legged man—‘kindly went and had a look at them, and found that two of them were badly sooted up, but what was more serious he also found that the spring contact in the magneto was broken. You see The Mary Ann Shaughnessy’s engine is a very old one, Joe, and lots of things can happen to it, unforeseen things. Well, your two friends were prevented from exploring the Brandon and so I went in their place. I went right down to Wilton Bridge, in fact beyond, and got stuck in the mud there. But who minds being stuck in the mud in such a good cause?’

  ‘You’re a devil,’ said Joe.

  ‘Thank you, Joe. I try my best.’

  ‘They’ll get you,’ said Joe.

  ‘Well, they could, Joe, at that. Within the next two days there is just that slight possibility, but we won’t let them, Joe, will we, for as long as you and Mr Williams decide to stay with me my fears are at rest. After that, Joe, The Night Star will be heading for her summer cruise, and you know something…you will be on board, Joe; both you and Mr Williams will be on board. I told you I was a nice man; there’s nothing crude about me like there is about Sloper here.’ He cast a disdainful glance towards the big bullet-headed man. ‘He would have had you both dumped in the river straight away. He doesn’t think. I had to explain to him that the bodies might not have gone through the sluice gates but have risen to the surface. That wouldn’t have mattered so much in your case, Joe, but when it was accompanied by the body of Mr Williams, well…people become inquisitive you know, people like the Police Inspector. They’re apt to ask odd questions that seemingly lead nowhere, yet ultimately reach an uncomfortable destination. Now my way is much simpler, Joe; cleaner if you know what I mean. As I said, you will go on the trip with us but you won’t know anything about it; you won’t even feel being dropped overboard in the middle of the ocean…Now don’t you think my way is better, Joe?’

  ‘You’re a dirty swine.’

  ‘Mr Williams!’ Mr Leech’s voice was curt now. ‘I would advise you to keep your opinion to yourself or my manner towards you mightn’t be as nice as it is towards Joe here.’

  ‘Manner? You…As the lad says they’ll get you. Your type always makes a mistake.’

  ‘I haven’t made a mistake so far, Mr Williams, and I’ve been operating for a number of years so I’m not likely to do so at this stage in my career. For your information, Mr Williams, I’m a respectable citizen. I have a farm in Sussex, run by my manager who is a churchgoing man. I too go to the village church on Sunday when I’m at home. I also have a chain of grocery stores, small, but growing, and your load of cigarettes will aid the growth considerably, Mr Williams. In fact, your company has been very helpful to me over the past two years; it has enabled me to extend my business and also to purchase The Night Star. I tell you this, Mr Williams, because I’m so confident that you won’t split on me.’ He gave a low laugh, and it was echoed by both Sloper and Murphy. Then Mr Leech, looking at Joe again, said, ‘Sloper tells me you feel feverish, Joe. I’m sorry about that, but feeling hot has its points, don’t you think, the floor being slightly damp?’

  Joe was now leaning back against the wall. The aggressive feeling had seeped from him; he felt limp and more than a little afraid. He did not for a moment doubt that Mr Leech was a clever man. Added to this, he was as crafty as a stalking panther. What chance had the boys, even the police, against a man like him? And who would think about searching this house which was five miles from the nearest road? He had only come across it because he had lost his way when trying to find a short cut back to the mouth of Brandon Creek. And it wasn’t likely that a pleasure boat would stop because of the broken staves that had once formed a landing for the barges. A boat could pull in further along the bank, but that was a long chance as this wasn’t an attractive stretch of the river, added to which it was thick with floating reeds left from the cutter. And should anyone ever reach the house there was Sloper to tell them they were trespassing on private property. That’s what they would have said to him if he hadn’t uncovered the safe from under a pile of rotten corn sacks. He had kicked them with his foot in passing and felt it come in contact with something hard, and just as he had exposed the safe he had turned to see Sloper looking at him.

  Wearily now he watched them as they filed out of the room, when Mr Leech, going last, turned at the door and, raising his eyebrows and with an apologetic look on his face, said, ‘Oh, I forgot to tell you, Joe, that unfortunately I’m having to see to Bill. Your young friend, Malcolm, has got it too firmly into his head that somehow you can’t be dead, and he had the idea that Bill, who apparently has hunting instincts, might be able to trace you if given the scent of some of your belongings. He was going to put it to the police today, but I hope to see Bill before the police do, and I shall present him with a titbit…What a shame it is that cruel people put out poisoned meat for foxes and such, and poor innocent dogs pick it up. It should be stopped, don’t you think, Joe?’

  Joe made no retort. He felt too sick.

  ‘Listen,’ whispered Mr Williams urgently when they were alone again. ‘He means every word he says. We’ve got to do our utmost to get loose.’ He made a quick motion with his head towards Joe’s feet, and once again Joe made a mighty effort to try and shake the grain from the sack.

  Two hours later there was a wider patch of grain on the floor and it went unnoticed when Murphy, this time, brought their dinner in. He unloosened Joe’s hands first, then placed to his side a plate on which were two slices of cold bacon, a piece of bread and a mug of tea.

  Joe didn’t say ‘I can’t eat it’; he just leant his head back against the wall and rubbed his wrists gently and watched Murphy unloosen Mr Williams before taking his seat on the foot of the sack of grain at Mr Williams’s feet.

  As Joe watched Mr Williams eat, his eyes all the while on Murphy, he knew that he was waiting for Murphy to come just close enough so that he could get his hands round his throat, but neither Murphy nor Sloper were fools. They never came near Mr Williams before telling him to turn his face to the wall, and should he hesitate, a kick from one of their boots decided him.

  Murphy turned now to Joe and said, ‘Not nice enough for you?’
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  ‘I’m not hungry,’ said Joe, lifting up the mug of tea to his lips.

  ‘Well, I’d be the same in your place,’ said Murphy. Then, looking at Mr Williams again, he remarked with a sneer, ‘And the condemned man ate a hearty breakfast.’

  ‘I’m not dead yet,’ said Mr Williams grimly. ‘An’ I’ll give you two guesses as to who’s to be the condemned man.’

  ‘Shut your gob,’ said Murphy, ‘an’ turn round.’

  ‘I haven’t finished yet.’ Mr Williams took up the mug of tea.

  ‘Never mind about finishing, turn around.’

  ‘Well, come and stop me. Here, take the mug away.’ He held the mug up.

  Murphy came out with a string of oaths. Then picking up the long curved shaft of a pickaxe that stood against the wall he approached Mr Williams, saying, ‘Have I to tell you twice?’

  Mr Williams threw off the last dregs of the tea, then turned his body as much as he could to face the wall, and he groaned aloud as Murphy, with renewed viciousness, lashed his wrists together once more.

  After Murphy had left the room Mr Williams kept his face turned from Joe and he made no sound, and Joe, twisting himself towards him, whispered anxiously, ‘You all right, Mr Williams?’

  It was some seconds before Mr Williams answered. ‘Yes, I’m all right. Don’t worry.’ But he still kept his face averted, and Joe knew the reason why.

  After a moment Joe whispered, ‘I’ll have another shot at the sack,’ and now Mr Williams turned his body more towards Joe and muttered, ‘Try pulling your knees up.’

  When Joe tried this, the effort caused an excruciating pain to shoot through his body but the result was worth it because the sack moved just the slightest.

  ‘Good,’ whispered Mr Williams, his voice brighter now. ‘Have a rest, then try again. Keep at it.’

  And Joe kept at it; so much so that within the next hour he had brought the sack of grain six inches nearer, and his knees were now bent upwards, but he viewed this achievement with something of dismay when he heard Murphy entering the next room again, for now he couldn’t put his legs straight. Although he pressed his back as tightly against the wall as his lashed hands would allow and pushed his feet flat against the neck of the sack, he couldn’t straighten his legs, and his altered position was the first thing that Murphy noticed. He stopped at the bottom of the steps and said slowly, ‘Oh, aye! Trying your hand are you, or your feet?’

  Although Joe was in a very feverish state he still had his wits about him, and bringing his head as far forward onto his chest as he could he groaned, ‘I’ve got stomach ache, I’m feeling bad. The pain’s awful; I want to go somewhere…I’m doubled up with it.’ He made a rocking movement with his body and groaned, and Murphy, coming and standing over him, said, ‘Well, that’s just too bad. You’re going to be uncomfortable I think.’

  ‘Will you let me loose for a bit?’

  ‘You’re kiddin’.’ Murphy grinned widely now.

  ‘I tell you I feel bad.’

  ‘The youngster’s tellin’ the truth, you little squirt. He’s bad, and if anything happens to him God help you.’

  ‘All you succeed in doing is make me laugh,’ said Murphy grimly. ‘Squirt, am I? Well, far better a little squirt than a big nit. You big fellows, you’re nothing but nits. Who but a nit would fall for the old gag of the distressed damsel who couldn’t get her car to start? You carryin’ a load worth three thousand. An’ you’d been warned, hadn’t you? But you couldn’t resist playin’ the big fellow to a dear little blonde…You make me sick.’

  Mr Williams remained silent. He lay back, slumped against the wall now. The truth of Murphy’s words seemed to have winded him, and Joe continued to groan and rock his body, but it had no effect on Murphy. He went out of the room and they heard the outer door bang which meant he was on the river bank again to act as watch.

  Wildly now Joe began to tug at the bag. And such were his efforts that he made more headway in the following five minutes than he had done during the previous hour. Now turning one foot, he placed the other on top of it, then fell onto his right side, while Mr Williams pressed his back towards him as much as it was possible, muttering words of encouragement the while.

  ‘Can you ease back a little more?’ whispered Joe. ‘I’m just about an inch off it.’

  Mr Williams strained his body backwards and Joe stretched his neck forward, and then his teeth were on the rope. The rope was wet and slimy and when he felt his teeth grinding on the dirt his stomach heaved, but he kept on tearing and puffing, until there came a point when he wanted to let out a yell of triumph. The rope eased through the loop, and Mr Williams’s wrists, one running with blood, pressed outwards, and then his hands were free.

  Rising on his elbow, Joe silently watched Mr Williams bring his arms forward and look down at his discoloured wrists for a moment. Then smiling at Joe, he said briefly, ‘Good work, son.’ Following this he drew in a long breath, then bent swiftly towards his feet, and his hands were on the rope binding his ankles when they were arrested for a second by a noise under the window. It was a snuffling, sniffing noise interspersed with another sound like a cough, and it brought Joe’s head up and a light into his eyes, and before he could stop himself he cried, ‘It’s Bill!’ And then on a higher voice he yelled, ‘Bill! Bill! Come on, boy. Come on, Bill. Jonathan! Malcolm! Here! Here!’

  There was a racing of feet now and the door burst open and Murphy jumped down the steps and into the room. For a moment he stopped dead and looked at Mr Williams tearing at the knots in the rope around his ankles, then with a bound he had grabbed up the pickaxe shaft and was on him, and Joe screamed aloud as it came down on the side of Mr Williams’s head.

  Making hardly a sound Mr Williams fell over sidewards. But Murphy hadn’t straightened his back from the action before he himself was screaming and clawing wildly at an enraged animal hanging on to his arm. The man’s curses rent the air as he staggered round the room in an endeavour to shake off Bill’s hold.

  Everything had happened so quickly that Joe was stunned for the moment. Then, realising that where Bill was, the boys wouldn’t be far behind he put his head back and screamed again at the limit of his lungs, ‘Jonathan! Jonathan! Malcolm! Jonathan! Here! Here!’ And then his heart seemed to bounce into his mouth when he heard the footsteps racing around the side of the house, then across the other outer room, but when they came into the cellar, his heart dropped back into a lower depth than it had been before because he was looking not at Jonathan, or Malcolm, but at Mr Leech and Sloper.

  When Sloper’s heavy boot caught Bill a vicious kick in his dangling hind leg, he let loose of Murphy, and then pandemonium rained as blow after blow was levelled at him and he leapt here and there, barking and growling in an endeavour to evade his attackers.

  In the middle of the melee Sloper dashed into the other room and came back with a revolver in his hand, and he was aiming it at Bill when it was knocked flying by Mr Leech, crying, ‘Don’t use that in here, it’s too risky. Get that shaft and brain him. And try to do it quietly, or else we’ll have the passing craft stopping to investigate. There’s two just gone up the river.’

  As Sloper picked up the shaft Bill leaped again but Sloper side-stepped quickly and Bill’s hurling took him onto the top of the steps and into the next room, from where he did not stop to continue the fight but raced out of the back door and along the river bank.

  Both Mr Leech and Sloper were bending over Murphy now and Mr Leech was saying sternly, ‘Stop it! Stop it! Your arm isn’t off; there’s only a couple of teeth marks.’

  ‘Hy…hydrophobia,’ stammered Murphy.

  ‘Hydrophobia!’ exclaimed Mr Leech scathingly.

  ‘I’d better get to…to a hos…hospital.’

  ‘You’re going to no hospital; I’ll burn it with caustic.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes! Get on board. And walk along to the boat as if nothing has happened…Do you hear that? As if nothing had happened. And stay abo
ard until I come, but send Duffy back here, because we are expecting company. That hound will bring those other two snoopers running or I’m very much mistaken.’

  ‘I…I thought you said you put paid to the beast.’

  Mr Leech turned and looked at Murphy where he stood on the first step holding his arm with one hand; then he looked away again, saying, ‘I thought so too. In fact, I was sure I had. I saw him go in the thicket where I left the meat and I never saw him come out again.’ He glanced at Joe now and said, ‘Doesn’t your friend Bill like raw meat?’

  Joe said nothing, but he could have explained that Bill had almost been poisoned twice by eating pieces of raw meat he had found on the moors, so Malcolm had told him, which was why he would never touch raw meat. His diet was tinned meat and biscuits.

  Mr Leech now went towards the prostrate man and, bending over him, put his hand inside his coat for a moment. Then looking across the room to where Murphy and Sloper were still standing he said, ‘Why did you lay yourself open to this?’

  ‘I didn’t. He was tied up; I knotted him as tight as a vice. I don’t know how he got loose, but he was untying his feet when I came in.’

  ‘There’s the answer,’ Mr Leech now pointed to the spreading grain and Joe’s bent knees. ‘Our clever little friend here had only to turn on his side, lean over, and untie his companion with his teeth. That’s what you did, isn’t it, Joe?’

  Joe remained silent. His head was swimming and he felt hot and cold at the same time. But the coldness now owed everything to the fear that was filling him. Not only fear of what was going to happen to him and Mr Williams, but what would happen when Jonathan and Malcolm, following Bill’s lead, came to the empty house up the Brandon.

  Seven

  ‘There he is!’ cried Malcolm excitedly, pointing through the evening light towards the brown-and-white dot in the far distance. ‘Here boy! Here boy!’