Race Before the Wind

Copyright © Jill Salkeld 1988

Part Two: 1816-1822

The Venturer's Agent

Chapter Thirteen

As soon as Marshlight passed Hurst Castle in the light of early morning, the crew saw that West Mills was ablaze. Fearful for the Veritys' lives, Tom did not stay to supervise floating the cargo. He launched the ship's boat, and rowed ashore alone.

Running up the path from the jetty, ignoring the Keyhaven folk who rushed past him with buckets of sea-water, he realised that the cottage was beyond saving.

A figure detached itself from a small cluster of onlookers and came slowly to meet him.

"Trekker! Christ, mate, are you all safe? Rachel? And the baby?"

"Aye. Safe."

Tom felt deep sympathy for his friend. Trekker looked like a man bereaved.

"How did it happen?" he asked.

I burned West Mills," said Eddie Verity, "and everything in he."

Tom could not believe that Trekker knew what he was saying; until he saw in his friend's smoke-reddened eyes the shadow of some remembered nightmare.

"Burned it?" he echoed, with a glance at the ruin.

"The tubmen were informed against, last night. Ambushed. Bezant and three others be dead. Boxer Corrigan, and a couple of lads from Hordle."

"Oh God. Poor old Boxer. Is it known who peached on them?"

"Aye." Trekker stared at the ground, and then back at the cottage. "The informer," he said, "went to see Locke. The person didn't be knowing, I reckon, that half they Special Constables be smugglers theyselves....Not Locke, but when he spread the word around....Bezant didn't get no warning till he were down on the beach, and then it were too late....but at least he knew the culprit. Bezant sat as judge, afore he died."

Tom's mind made the obvious jump. "Christ, Trekker - you're saying they tried the man and executed him? Here at West Mills?"

"Not a man. A woman. They'd have sold the corpse to the Resurrection Men," said Trekker flatly, "but I wouldn't let they do that. She insisted, you see, that you had nothing' to do wi' peaching on Bezant, so they had to find 'ee not guilty. And she died as brave as anyone ever could."

"Who?" Though Trekker's words made no sense, fear clenched around Tom's heart. He gripped his friend's shoulder hard, and shook him. "Damn it, what's happened? Who's dead?"

Eddie Verity looked straight into his eyes. "Louisa," he said.

Tom stood like stone; then his nerveless hand dropped from Trekker's shoulder. "No," he said.

"She thought you'd leave the Trade once you had the money."

Tom shook his head; he could not accept it, could not believe that Bezant had killed her. When he got home she would be there, the same as ever, coming to greet him with that glad, quiet smile....

"I brought she to trial," said Trekker, "'cause otherwise they'd have laid in wait and killed both of 'ee, for sure."

Looking dazedly at Eddie Verity, Tom saw that it was true; that his friend had led Louisa to her death, and Bezant was gone where no vengeance could reach him.

"You," he said. "I'll see you in hell!" And bounding forward he closed his hands around Trekker's throat. They fell together on to the charred grass, while Eddie Verity writhed and struggled, unable to cry out for mercy.

Two pairs of brutal hands dragged Tom to his feet. He shouted at the newcomers in frenzy. "Let me at him" He's mine" He's mine!"

One of the men, still holding him fast with one hand, the other to punch him hard in the mouth. Tom sagged, the world reeling. Through a haze he saw Eddie Verity scramble up and run, with many an agonised backward glance, towards the crowd and safety. A short, stout figure stood in front of Tom, saying tersely, "Bring him to his senses."

A bucketful of water was dashed in Tom's face. He gasped, choking, and Captain Benjamin Hicks, with a satisfied nod, spoke to his two henchmen. "Keep hold of him. Don't let him loose."

Tom stood still, fighting to recover his breath. "You....could have stopped Bezant," he said, with hatred. "You....could have saved her."

"No, Elderfield. Informers are executed. Those are the rules."

"I'll have your life for this!"

"No, Elderfield," Hicks repeated. "If you avenge your wife's just execution, you will be charged with murder. You know I've the contacts to arrange for that to happen, even in the event of my own death. If you're clever enough to engineer a convincing 'accident', for myself or Verity, someone you care for deeply will soon suffer the same fate. Miss Tandy, perhaps, or her brother, or one of the Vaillants. Take your revenge, if you think it's worth the cost."

"Damn you!" Tom said brokenly. "Damn your eyes!"

"You will appreciate, lad, that your employment with me must be terminated at once. I can't have an agent who hates me." Hicks paused, and said gruffly, with genuine emotion, "You're a good lad, Elderfield. You've done me proud. I'm more sorry than I can say - about your wife, and about everything."

"Go to hell, where you belong!"

Hicks, sighed, and turned to the man gripping Tom's right arm. "He needs time to take in what I've said. Give him something to keep him peaceful until the Veritys and I are out of the way. Nothing too savage."

Tom had no chance to resist. He did not see what weapon the man used, and the blow to the back of his head felled him instantly.

He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

Benjamin Hicks walked away between his henchmen. The folk from Keyhaven, running to and fro with their buckets, parted around Tom's prone figure like water around a rock. No one stooped to help him, nor to make sure he was not badly hurt. No one dared.

When the smugglers took the law into their own hands, it did not pay ordinary folk to interfere.

Part 3, The Men of Enterprise, Chapter 1

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