Bill and The Mary Ann Shaughnessy Page 9

  As Malcolm and Jonathan raced down the river bank, over the field, through a gap in the hedge and across another field, Bill slowed his trot to a walk, and when they came up with him, crying, ‘Where have you been, you devil, you?’ he sat down and gazed at them as they hung over him, the while panting from their exertions, and his pained look voiced his opinion of their recriminations.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ said Jonathan suddenly. Then kneeling down by Bill he said softly, ‘What is it, boy?’ And Bill, turning his head, told them what it was by licking his left thigh.

  ‘Good Lord! There’s a big lump on his leg,’ exclaimed Malcolm. ‘He’s had a kick, or been hit by something.’

  ‘Come on, boy. Come on, up,’ they said gently. ‘Come on back to the boat and we’ll bathe it.’

  Bill stood up but he did not make any attempt to go forward; instead he remained looking up at them for a moment, then slowly he turned and retraced his steps the way he had come, and as Malcolm called, ‘This way, you silly ass,’ Jonathan said quickly, ‘Wait a minute. Look, he’s turning round; he wants us to follow him.’

  ‘You’re right,’ said Malcolm softly.

  ‘Go on, boy, go on. But take it slowly.’ Jonathan walked alongside Bill who was limping now and so was forced to take it slowly because of the pain in his hip, but nevertheless he led them unerringly across the fenland. First through two more fields, across a road, after which they followed a farm track that led apparently nowhere until it came to a ditch.

  Many of the fen ditches were gruesome affairs, being wide and deep, their bottoms slimy with silt. Malcolm, deterred by the width from taking the jump, looked for some other means of crossing into the next field but found none. Then he was put to shame when Bill leapt the distance and landed on three paws with a painful yelp.

  ‘I’ll go first,’ said Jonathan. ‘Then you take a long run, and I’ll catch you if you jump short. Don’t worry. You’ll be all right.’

  Taking a long run himself, he landed on the far bank, and it was well he was there to grab Malcolm, for Malcolm jumped short, with the result that he sprawled down the black muddy face of the ditch, and he looked a sorry sight when Jonathan pulled him to the safety of the firm bank.

  ‘You’d better get some of the mud scraped off you,’ said Jonathan, but Malcolm, wiping his chin and the inside of his collar with his handkerchief, said, ‘No, look. He’s still going on…Jonathan…?’

  ‘Yes?’

  They were hurrying after Bill now.

  ‘Do you think…?’

  ‘Don’t ask. I don’t know what to think; just let’s find out where he’s taking us.’

  Two more fields and over hedges, scrambling through small openings in them; through a narrow creek that had its own sluice gate; on and on past resting cows and startled rabbits.

  ‘Where on earth is he going?’ exclaimed Malcolm wearily as they jumped yet another ditch. ‘He’s brought us across country, we must be nearing the other river.’

  ‘There, look! He’s stopped,’ cried Jonathan. ‘And he’s looking round.’ He pointed to a clump of trees, the first they had passed in their journey, and near them some low bushes alongside which Bill stood waiting for them. And when they reached him they saw their destination. There, some twenty yards beyond the trees, stood an ugly stone house with barred windows and surrounded by a tangle of overgrown garden.

  ‘Why, it’s the house on the Brandon, that empty one, you know, Jonathan,’ whispered Malcolm. ‘The river must be beyond. We’ve come right across country to the Brandon.’

  Jonathan looked down at Bill but spoke to Malcolm, saying, ‘Why isn’t he going forward any more? Why isn’t he going right up to it?’

  ‘Well, we’d better go and have a look, hadn’t we?’

  ‘No. Oh no. If he’s not going ahead there’s a reason. We’ll lie here and wait…and watch.’

  ‘But it’ll be getting dark soon,’ said Malcolm.

  ‘We can’t help that; all the better I should say. But we’re not going across that open space now.’

  ‘Do you think somebody is in there?’

  ‘Bill didn’t get that injury to his leg by kicking himself.’

  They lay down at the edge of the shrubs and kept their gaze fixed on the house, and when the light started to go Malcolm said, ‘Do…do you think we should go and tell somebody?’

  ‘Tell them what?’ asked Jonathan. ‘We know nothing ourselves yet. We’d look pretty fools, wouldn’t we, if we went to the police. That’s what you mean, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Malcolm hesitantly.

  ‘We’ll soon know if there’s anyone there.’ Jonathan moved his head slowly, while stroking Bill gently with his hand to still his low and intermittent growling.

  ‘But how, if we don’t go and see?’

  ‘If there’s anyone inside they’ll have to have a light, and if they show a light it’ll prove another thing—that they’re not aware they are being watched.’

  ‘They wouldn’t put a light on in a disused house, it would give them away,’ said Malcolm.

  ‘They could have one in a back room, for who’s going to see it in this wilderness? And even if they did, are they going to bother investigating what might only be a tramp sleeping up for the night? We are miles away from anywhere.’

  ‘How are we going to get back in the dark over those ditches?’ asked Malcolm now, under his breath.

  ‘We’ll follow the river bank. There’s always a path of sorts along it. I’m not worrying about getting back; I’m worried about what we are going to find over there. There’s something or someone in there, I’m sure of it now. Just look at him.’ He motioned down to Bill. ‘He’s all bristles and raring to go now. It’s as if he was waiting for the dark.’

  The light was almost gone when they moved from the shelter of the bush, and as they did so Jonathan cautioned Bill as he held on to his collar: ‘Quiet boy, quiet. No barking. No…barking. Keep close behind me,’ he whispered to Malcolm as Bill tugged him forward. ‘And keep glancing around you in case anyone should try to jump us.’

  The fence that once hedged the garden was broken down and gingerly they stepped over it and crept around the tangle of undergrowth until they came to a pathway leading from an outdoor lavatory to the side of the house. Here a woodshed with a corrugated iron roof had been built near the lower window. The window was boarded except for a foot gap at the top, and a pile of uncut wood reached almost up to the gap.

  Malcolm, tapping Jonathan on the back, pointed to the wood, then the roof of the shed, indicating that once on it he could see through the gap and into the room beyond, but Jonathan shook his head vigorously and didn’t stop to explain that such an operation would be much too noisy. At one point he stopped as a slight rustling sound came from the other side of the wall, but it could have been that of a mouse scampering over the boards. Then they reached the back of the house, went past another boarded window and to a door that was slightly ajar.

  Jonathan now turned his head and nodded at Malcolm; then putting his hand tentatively out, he pushed the door slowly inwards. When it made a grating sound they both stiffened and waited, but nothing happened. Then with a lift of his head to Malcolm, Jonathan, moving sidewards, entered the dark room, and Malcolm followed him; and simultaneously they were borne to the ground.

  In Malcolm’s case, he was knocked completely senseless for a moment, but Jonathan, kicking and struggling, put up a fight until he felt a blow on the head that seemed to wrench it from his body, and he was only just conscious of being dragged over a bumpy surface while voices, intermingled with Bill’s distant barking, swirled around him.

  But soon Jonathan was brought fully to himself by his arms being wrenched behind him while his face was pressed hard against a wet stone floor; then when his legs were pulled back until his body was like a bow he cried out aloud with the pain. Trussed up like a chicken, he was swung round and thrust against the wall, and so excruciating was the agony he was experiencing that hi
s vision was blurred for the moment. Then his mouth stretched into a gape as his eyes met the gaze of a similar bound figure. Joe was looking down at him.

  Joe’s face was deeply flushed; his eyes were bright and his mouth was wide open, and from it hung a trail of dirty cloth.

  ‘Joe! Joe! Why, Joe!’ Jonathan’s expression conveyed both pleasure and dismay, but Joe’s face showed nothing but dismay.

  A movement to the side of him brought his eyes from Joe, and in the flickering candlelight he saw another figure trussed up. He too was gagged, but his eyes spoke for him, saying, ‘Why did you do it? You walked straight into them.’

  Now for the first time Jonathan looked up at Mr Leech. He looked at him long and hard and he told himself that he was an utter fool; he should have taken notice of his inner promptings over the past two days which had pointed to this man being altogether too smooth. How had he, and he alone, found Joe’s letter when the river bank had already been searched? He had wanted to put this question forward but it had seemed futile to do so when the police had accepted Mr Leech’s statement. Oh! He groaned aloud now. If only his father hadn’t gone back this morning, then he would have reported them missing. But now nobody would bother looking for them until tomorrow when they didn’t arrive in Banham’s boatyard.

  The arrangement was, they should take the boat down the river tomorrow, then take Bill home to be in time for the court the following day.

  Mr Crawford would have stayed with them for another day but he felt it was his place to accompany Mr Taggart home as he was in deep distress, as were they all. It was as if the thought of his father had transmitted itself to Malcolm for now, his voice high and squeaking, he yelled, ‘Wait till my father gets you! He’ll tear you apart, he will. He will, you horrible slimy beast you. And me sticking up for you…’

  ‘Will I tie him up, boss?’

  ‘Not yet. So you stuck up for me?’ said Mr Leech. ‘Well, that was very nice of you, Malcolm. I wish I could say that it would go in your favour but I’m afraid that’s out of the question now.’

  ‘You daren’t do anything to us, you’ll be gaoled.’

  Malcolm edged himself across the wet floor towards Joe as he spoke, and when he was at Joe’s side they stared at each other until Malcolm’s gaze was wrenched round to Mr Leech again as he said, ‘Of course I wouldn’t dream of doing anything to you. What I’m going to do is invite you both to supper on The Night Star, and there I shall foolishly offer you some wine, and that will be the reason why you will inadvertently leave the calor gas on in your galley…I can assure you there’ll be no-one more sorry than me when you’re found tomorrow morning. In fact, I shall make it my business to take part of the blame for your sad end: I’ll never forgive myself for pressing you to take wine at your tender age.’

  ‘You! You wouldn’t dare.’ Malcolm’s voice was trembling.

  ‘Oh,’ said Mr Leech softly, ‘I would dare, but what a pity that, like Joe here, you won’t know much about it. What I would prefer doing would be to ship you together with Joe and our dear Mr Williams here, who has been so very helpful to our cause, and put you all to rest somewhere at sea, but I’m afraid the extensive bilges of The Night Star are nearly full and they will be overcrowded when two more pieces of cargo are added.’ He wagged his finger, first at Joe and then at Mr Williams.

  Jonathan, biting on his lip to stop himself from crying out against the pain in his back, saw Malcolm’s lips tremble with the fear Mr Leech’s words had aroused. The fear was in him too, adding to the sweat running down his face. Unless a miracle happened they were all doomed.

  Then the way to achieve the miracle seemed to present itself instantly, for Bill’s bark came to them from outside the window, and in a flash he gathered in a breath and yelled to the limit of his lungs, ‘Bill! Bill! Go and fetch Poppa. Fetch Poppa!’

  Poppa was Mr Crawford’s pet name, and when Bill was young the boys had trained him to bring their father’s slippers by saying, ‘Go and fetch Poppa’s slippers.’ Now Jonathan knew it was impossible for Bill to bring Mr Crawford, but there was just the remotest chance that he would fetch someone to this place as he had fetched them. His mouth was open to yell again when a hand came slapping across it, jerking his head back and sending his senses reeling. Only faintly did he realise that Bill had not answered his command, but having jumped onto the woodshed roof by way of the stack of wood had his head through the end of the aperture above the top boards and was barking furiously.

  It was when the hand came down and struck Jonathan once more that Bill, with a clawing and a scraping, drew his body through the open section and entered the room for the second time.

  What followed took only seconds to accomplish. As Bill sprang at Sloper the man hurled himself over Mr Williams’s legs and Bill landed on top of Jonathan but immediately returned to the attack again.

  ‘Keep down!’ It was a shouted command by Mr Leech to Sloper and Duffy. Mr Leech now stood in the far corner of the room with a revolver in his hand. He no longer looked the part of the suave individual for his face was dark and menacing. As Malcolm screamed out a protest, the sound of the report reverberated round the room and, threading it, a pitiful yelp from Bill as the bullet whisked through his ear. Then followed a terrible silence as Joe without making any sound at all slumped sideways.

  Mr Leech, the smoking revolver in his hand, looked to where the blood was staining the neck of Joe’s shirt, and he thrust out his tightened lips before he said, ‘Well, he’s only got himself to thank. If he hadn’t come sneaking round here in the first place none of this would have happened. Anyway, it’s better this way.’

  ‘Do…do something. Do something!’ There were tears in Malcolm’s voice.

  ‘Shut up you! Or you’ll be next.’ Sloper brought himself from the wall, looking round as he did so; then added, ‘Where is he, boss?’

  Mr Leech now looked into the dim corners of the room, but Bill was now nowhere to be seen; he had gone as quickly as he had come.

  ‘He must have got out,’ said Duffy.

  ‘He won’t get far,’ growled Mr Leech, in a voice quite unlike his usual tone. ‘Give me that torch.’ He grabbed a torch that was sticking out of Duffy’s pocket, then ended, ‘You stay here until I find him and finish him off.’

  As the door closed on him, Jonathan yelled, ‘Bill! Bill, go…!’

  ‘Don’t you know when you’ve had enough?’ Sloper was towering over Jonathan, the back of his hand ready to strike again. Then he stayed it as the sound of a shot came from outside. A few minutes later Mr Leech returned into the room, saying grimly, ‘Well that’s that.’

  ‘You got him, boss?’

  ‘Yes. In the hindquarters. He dropped into the river, and went down like a stone.’

  Malcolm, who had pulled the gag out of Joe’s mouth and was now supporting his head, dropped his own head down until it touched his friend’s and brokenly he cried.

  Jonathan, too, was stunned and sickened by the news. Bill, that ugly, loyal, brave friend…that fellow, as his father called him, was now in the river. He screwed his eyes up tightly to stop himself from giving way and joining Malcolm. As he drew in one deep breath after another he heard Mr Leech say, ‘Now get yourself along to that boat as quickly as you can and bring her back here.’

  ‘But you told me to fix the engine, boss, you remember?’ This was Duffy speaking.

  ‘Well, if the men from Banham’s haven’t put it to rights, set to and undo your handiwork. You’ll likely do it in one quarter of the time they would, but I want her here, and pronto.’

  ‘But if I should be stopped coming down the river in the dark, what then?’

  ‘You won’t let anyone stop you, you understand? You’ll be both deaf and blind until you berth her here. I want to get this business over and done with, and unless they insist I stay for the inquest we’ll be well out to sea by this time tomorrow.’

  ‘Roll on tomorrow then,’ answered Duffy. ‘This place is getting too crowded for comfort.
’

  ‘And you, Sloper,’ said Mr Leech now. ‘Tie the young squawking one up an’ all, just in case he decides to knock you out. And that’s possible.’

  Jonathan watched Sloper move towards Malcolm, but he turned his head away when he saw his brother being trussed up with as little consideration as if he were a dead fowl. But he could not close his ears to Malcolm’s cries, nor his mind to the utter hopelessness of their position. Not for a moment did he doubt that Mr Leech would do as he had said. If they had been at the mercy of ignorant men like Sloper, Murphy and Duffy, he could have hoped that they would have made a mistake somewhere along the line, or even been deterred by the consequences of their acts, but not so Mr Leech, for he was not only an educated man, he was a cunning, wily, polished and cool man, and it was the last two qualities that made him so formidable.

  Eight

  The second shot had caught Bill, as Mr Leech had said, but not in the hindquarters. The bullet had whipped off the end of his tail and sent arrows of agonising pain through his body and a spurt of blood over him as he dived into the water. Stunned for the moment, he sank down until his paws touched the slimy silt which grabbed at his weight like quicksand. He was repulsed by the contact of the silt as much as a human would be. This, together with the urge to survive, brought him to the surface again. The current had carried him some way down the river and his head broke the water among a cluster of reeds, and he tore at them for support and, making a great effort, hauled himself up onto the bank. And there he lay exhausted, his head on his front paws, his ear and tail bleeding profusely. After a while he turned his head to the side and tried to quench the flow by pressing his ear into the soft ground, and spasmodically he made an attempt to lick the end of his tail.

  After some time the black silty earth caked with the blood and staunched the flow from his ear and the pain in the side of his head eased, giving way to a numb feeling. But not so his tail. The feeling here was as if it was being held against the bars of a fire.