The Rope Carrier (11 page)

“They've come, they've come,” he shouted. “There's soldiers on horses, with great swords, clatterin' through t'streets. And all the town's out to see them. Like Saturday night, but worse.
They're grumbling and shoving, and shouting that if soldiers be sent for, they'd better have summat to do.”

“Well, they're daft,” said the Dame, “if they think they can do owt against soldiers.”

“They say,” said Jack, hopping from one foot to the other, punching the air with his fists to add drama, “they say that if they can break open prisons in France, why should they not be doing it here?”

“What?” The Dame jumped up and grabbed Jack by the shoulders.

“It's true, missus. I had to fight my way through the crowds that was thick around Pudding Lane. They say they shall break open the debtors' jail.”

Netty was up and putting on her cloak.

“You're not going up there,” the Dame told her.

“That I am. 'Tis my Josh they may be letting out.”

The Dame sighed and nodded her head.

“Well, take Jack then, and thee go too, Minnie, for at least tha's strong. Keep tha sister away from the pushing and shoving, she's still weak from the birthing. Don't get thee'sens in the thick of it.”

It was a hot heavy night. They hadn't gone far before running feet and shouting could be heard coming from the centre of town.

Just as Jack had said, folk were crushed thick around the debtors' jail. From the outskirts of the crowd they could see rushlights being hurled about above the angry bellowing.

“Where's all these soldiers, then?” said Minnie.

“Gone to set up their tents and fill their bellies, so they say,” said Jack. “Now's the time for trouble, for they don't know their way around the town yet.”

Netty tried to push between the solid backs of two men. “Please,” she screamed. “Please, my Josh's in that jail.”

“Stop tha shoving, woman. Haven't we all got folk in that damned place?”

Minnie pulled Netty back, fearful that the men would turn on her.

“What can we do?” Netty shrieked. “We cannot get to him.”

“Here,” said Jack, “shut tha noise, missus. Follow me and I'll show thee how.”

Minnie grabbed Netty by the hand and they set off quick and quiet now, circling round the edges of the crowd until they reached the front of the building. They were still no nearer to the main entrance.

“Now,” said Jack. “We shall have to fight our way past a few of them, then nip down that first alleyway. It joins on to another narra' way that comes out by the main door.”

“Right,” said Minnie, and dived head downwards into the crowd, shoving and wriggling and trampling on any feet that got in her way, as she'd learned to do in the water queues. She pulled poor gasping Netty after her. They reached the alleyway and scuttled freely down it; it had somehow been overlooked by the angry gathering at the front of the building.

Jack led them into the next alleyway, round the back of the prison governor's house, and out towards the front again.

“Stay back,” he yelled at them, for the noise from the front of the jail was terrific. He stuck his head out from the end of the passageway, then threw up his hands to protect his face.

“They've smashed all t'doors and windows,” he said, “and they be pulling t'prisoners out.”

Still waving his hand for them to keep back, he looked again, then turned his head towards the governor's house.

“Wait,” he yelled. “They'm turning on't governor's house. Yeah! Smash his windows! Get 'im! Haul 'im out.”

There was the sound of shattering glass, and Minnie could wait no longer. She pushed past Jack, ducking beneath flailing fists and sticks, and round to the front of the jail.

Prisoners were being brought out through the main doors, some shrieking in a frenzy of excitement, others stunned and shivering. There was no sign of Josh who must still have been shackled to the cutting stocks. It wouldn't be easy to get him free. Minnie frantically pushed her way inside, past prisoners and liberators, Netty clinging tightly to her skirt all the while. They found Josh huddled fearfully in the corner along with other shackled men, unable to escape like the rest. Netty flung herself into his arms, while Minnie desperately looked around for help of some kind. What might happen to those left shackled when the soldiers came, as they surely would?

Then Minnie saw John Bennet. He stood head and shoulders above the crowd, laughing and excited, thinking it all a fine game. He held a great hammer in his hands.

“John! John!” Minnie shouted. He turned towards the familiar, shrill voice.

“Over here,” she yelled as loud as she could. “Over here, John. Help!”

The big man made his way towards her. “Now then, little lass.”

She grabbed his arm, and pointed to Josh. “Can tha smash these chains, John, and let our Josh go free?”

“Aye. John can smash the chains,” he said, speaking slow as he always did. “John can help thee, little lass.”

“Stand back, stand back,” shouted Minnie, as John raised the hammer above his head.

“Nay,” said Josh. “Nay . . . I'm not sure as it's right to be freed this way.”

But the hammer fell, and Josh was free whether he wished it or not.

Netty pulled him to his feet and, one on each side, they steered Josh through the madness around them and out into the street. They left John Bennet to a clamour of voices begging him to set others free.

A clap of thunder echoed above the noise of the town, followed by the patter of heavy rain.

THE DAME WAS
still tapping by the light of her candle when they returned, drenched and trailing water. She dropped her hammer and chisel into her lap and stared at Josh.

“Tha great daft lot. This is no good. Tha can't stay here, son.”

Josh gave a deep sigh and shook his head. Pale and bewildered, he lurched forward as though he was about to fall.

His mother was on her feet, hammer and chisel clanging to the floor.

“Son!” she cried. “My Josh,” and caught him in her arms.

“We couldn't leave him there, Mother,” said Netty. “Not when all the others had been let out. And I wished him to see the baby.”

The Dame shook her head, leading Josh into the cottage and making him sit down at the table like a child. Minnie and Netty followed.

“I don't know what's to be done for the best,” said the Dame, “for the town is full of soldiers and there'll be houses searched for escaped prisoners. They'll be taking them back to the jail
and
keeping them there for longer, I dare say. Punishment will come for this.”

“No,” said Minnie. “They'll not be searching houses tonight. The last we saw was the soldiers galloping up to the jail, but far too late, for most of the folk had gone by then, shouting that they were off to Broomhall.”

“What? Up to the vicar's place?”

“Aye. ‘To Broomhall,' they were yelling and screaming. ‘Burn the place down!' and off they went, leaving the soldiers looking at the empty jail.”

“And the soldiers don't know Sheffield,” said Netty. “‘Where's Broomhall?' they were asking. Folk were directing them every which way but the right one. It'll take them all night to find out.”

“And where's our Jack?” said the Dame.

They shook their heads. They hadn't seen Jack since they'd lost him outside the jail.

“Hm. I daresay I know where he's likely to be.”

The Dame sent Netty and Josh off to bed, for they were both done. They'd have to find somewhere to hide Josh in the morning.

“And you, Minnie.” The Dame nodded towards the stairs.

“What will you do?” Minnie asked.

“I shall sit by this fire and rack my brains, and listen out for soldiers or constables. Then at least we may get some warning.”

“I'll sit with thee,” said Minnie. “For I swear I cannot sleep.”

It was early next morning, when the thick, black dark had lifted to grey, that they heard the sound of running feet. Minnie sat up with a jolt; she'd been drifting off to sleep from sheer weariness.

There came the grating sound of the sneck on the workshed door. The Dame took up her candle and carried it out across the yard to the shed. Minnie followed. Jack was slumped in front of the hearth, his usual place. They could almost have thought he'd been there all night if it were not for the strange stench that filled the shed.

“
Poof
, tha's brought a right stink in here with thee, Jack,” Minnie told him. “What's tha been up to?”

“Aye. What indeed?” the Dame insisted, holding the candle
close to his face. “How's this eye so red and swollen? And look at these breeches! A decent pair of hessian breeches we gave thee, lad. Just look at them: ripped, and stinking of filth and . . . is it burning?”

“Oh, missus. I'll tell thee . . . tell thee, missus, I will.”

Jack stammered and shook so that the Dame saw she'd get no sense out of him till he was calmed and fed.

“Stop,” she said. “I want to know nothing till tha's all cleaned up. Get out of these things quick, lest the soldiers come knocking on our door. If they see the state of thee, they'll know tha's been up to mischief. Tha'll have to put on the old mester's clothes. I don't like it much, but it can't be helped.”

Jack didn't like it much either, but he was in no position to argue so he did as he was told and the Dame threw his filthy torn things on the fire. Minnie made him a bowl of porridge and thumped it down in front of him.

“Not that tha deserves owt.”

Then at last he began to tell what had happened; how he'd followed the angry crowd out to Broomhall as the soldiers were arriving at the jail.

“I never meant to go. I never meant it, missus. I just seemed to get carried along wi' them.”

“Huh,” said the Dame. “You always never mean it, Jack, when there's trouble. Well? What happened then? Was the vicar at home?”

“Nay. He was out dining of course, growing fat and drunk on the backs of us.”

“Not fat,” the Dame insisted. “Whatever you may say, you can't call him fat. The vicar is wiry and strong. They say he's a boxing man.”

Jack's shoulders drooped at the Dame's passionate honesty. But then he grinned.

“We near burnt his house down, though. We set his haystacks alight and there was a right old blaze. Smashed his
window, and wrecked this room that was filled with books.”

“You burnt his books! His library! Oh heavens, there'll be worse trouble coming for this, tha daft lad. I don't like to hear of them burning books.”

“We'd have burned the whole place down if it weren't for the rain coming on so heavy. And then the soldiers—”

“Yes. What then? What did they do?”

“We all ran off, missus. That's what. Ran off in all directions, and they chased us as best they could. There was folk clapped in chains, but not me. I'm fast.”

“Ah, I knew it. 'Twill be the worst for them that's caught. How many is it?”

“I couldn't say, but they got that big man that tha likes, Minnie. It took a great gang of them, but I saw them surround him and grab him. Then I ran.”

The Dame went quiet and thoughtful for a moment or two, then she got up, and put on her shawl.

“Keep alert, Minnie, while I'm out. I'm thinking I know where there'll be space for Josh to hide.”

She returned before long to find Minnie dishing out breakfast to Josh and Netty and the children. Marianne climbed and wriggled on her father's knee, wild with excitement to see him again. Josh, though, seemed to be struggling to eat the porridge they'd prepared for him.

The Dame stopped for a moment to look at them all. “A fine sight you are. A fine sight to see, but you cannot go on like this, our Josh.”

“Aye, tha's right, Mother, but I cannot see clear what to do.”

“Dame Furniss will have thee round there. Tha can carry on with tha cutting in their shed, and tha can sleep in poor John Bennet's bed. He's built himself a great strong box-bed that has space beneath, if tha should need to hide. But they're not likely to trouble much round there, seeing as they've got poor John.”

Josh nodded. “Tha's got it all worked out, Mother.”

“At least I can go round there to see thee,” Netty sadly agreed.

“Dame Furniss seems to think it's right. She's insisted that half of what tha cuts goes to her, mind. It seems a terrible thing to be making use of John Bennet's misfortune and I'm ashamed of it, but I cannot think what else to do.”

“John wouldn't mind,” said Minnie.

THE DAME HAD
been right in her predictions of punishment: two more troops of dragoons arrived from York and Sheffield Town was indeed full of soldiers. Minnie's hopes for John Bennet were dashed, and in the early days of August he was sent off to York with five other men to stand trial.

As soon as word got round that the prisoners were being taken off through Attercliffe Common, Minnie had begged the Dame to let her go. She might be able to see John, and wish him well, or perhaps just the sight of a familiar friendly face might cheer him.

The Dame had insisted that Jack went with her for protection. Minnie had agreed, though what protection Jack offered she could not for the life of her see.

A big crowd had gathered, with only a few there to jeer at the prisoners. Relatives and friends followed the sad procession, wishing to go with them as far as they could, but Minnie turned back long before they'd left the outskirts of Sheffield. The sight of the big man heavily manacled, his face blank, uncomprehending, had shaken her to the core. She turned her misery on Jack. She hated his freedom and his clumsy attempts to make her laugh. She refused to speak to him for days.