Page 76 of By Marsh and By Moor
As the surgeon measured and examined him, Jed caught Solomon’s eye, trying to read the meaning there.What did he mean, ‘don’t try to escape’?What had Solomon done?Jed remembered again his fear that Solomon would try to strike some sort of desperate bargain with Vaughan.
“You’re in excellent health,” the surgeon said.“His Majesty is lucky to have you.”He scribbled something on a piece of paper, then waved at one of the guards to take Jed from the room.“Next!”
Chapter Eighteen
The schooner lay at anchor out in the bay beyond the harbour.A jolly boat was waiting to transfer the prisoners to it.
Outside the thatched cottages clustered around the harbour, a few townspeople stood watching the prisoners on their march down to the sea.They cried ‘Shame!’as the group passed, and a child slung mud at one of the gangers, but nobody dared approach the drawn cutlasses too closely.
“Look lively, there,” barked the midshipman, who was in command of the little procession.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jed watched the ganger marching alongside him, chivvying him along.The man held his cutlass with the ease of long practice.Jed’s heart was pounding.This was it, the moment he had been waiting for.The moment of his escape.
He kept his eyes sharply peeled, paying attention to everything: the position of each ganger, of Solomon, of the midshipman, of the people coming and going around the busy little harbour.He tested the strength of his bonds.The prisoners all had their hands tied behind their backs, but they were not strung together.
They reached the waterfront.In the harbour, the town’s fishing boats floated at high tide, the late afternoon sun gleaming on their painted white boards.Two small merchant vessels were moored along the opposite pier, busy unloading, anxious to put to sea again before the tide turned.Closer by, two of the schooner’s seamen were in the waiting jolly boat.
“Prepare to receive prisoners,” the midshipman shouted down to them.
“Aye, aye, sir.”
On the quay nearby stood a four-horse waggon.The pile of crates beside it was emitting squawking noises, as of agitated hens.Two men were loading the waggon, casting nervous glances of sympathy at the prisoners.
A few yards further along the quay, a narrow alley disappeared between a tavern and a warehouse.It led up towards the almshouses, as far as Jed remembered.From there, he could lose himself in the town’s narrow streets, and then go to ground in the wooded slopes that rose behind it.
The first prisoner was urged into the jolly boat.
Jed sought out Solomon’s gaze.They were standing some three yards apart, separated by two gangers.Their eyes met.
“Now,” Jed mouthed, still hoping against hope to bring Solomon with him.
Solomon’s eyes widened in alarm.“Don’t,” he mouthed back.
Jed’s heart cracked.For one achingly short second, they both stood there, Jed trying to memorise every line of Solomon’s face.
Then he stepped back and drove his foot into the stack of crates, toppling it.The topmost crate burst open, and the hens burst out, squawking and fleeing in all directions.The guards and prisoners scattered.
Jed broke away from the group, racing towards the alley.
For ten or twenty glorious seconds, he thought he had succeeded.He plunged into the alleyway, his lungs burning.But it wasn’t easy to run with hands tied.The cobblestones were wet and slippery under his feet.He slipped and almost fell, and then the Marines were upon him.
A heavy weight slammed into his back, and his head bounced against the cobblestones, sending waves of pain through his body.
He was dragged upright.He couldn’t see straight, with blood trickling into his eyes and his head spinning.
The next few minutes passed in a blur.Everything seemed very distant, as though it were happening to someone else.He was only faintly aware of hands pushing him down into the jolly boat, of the planks rocking under his feet.
From somewhere far away came the midshipman’s voice.“He’s been trouble from the start.Don’t put him in the hold with the rest.Next thing you know he’ll have stirred up a mutiny.Put him on the afterdeck.He can go to theOssorythis evening.”
When Jed came to, the sun had already set, and he was chilled to the bone in the night air.He tried to roll over.Pain spiked through his head.
He was on the schooner’s afterdeck, legs shackled to the capstan.Solomon must be down in the hold.Jed put his hand on the decking, spreading out his fingers, trying to push his hand through the wood.His heart ached.
The schooner was a small vessel, probably with a crew of less than a dozen, Jed reckoned.It had been converted to serve as a transport of soldiers or prisoners, and the gratings were all uncovered, letting some air down into the hold.
As Jed lay there, trying to summon the energy to sit up, there came the splash of oars of some smaller boat approaching the schooner.
“Ahoy there,” a voice hailed, followed by the sounds of someone coming up over the side.
