AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“They don’t. But they can’t stop us doing our best,” he told her.
The man stared at him, but the woman suddenly smiled. It changed her face completely. “I’ll try to remember that,” she promised.
Scuff smiled back, then left them and started to work his way down the river toward the stretch he knew better. He must find some of the people he used to know before he went to live with Monk and Hester. They were the people who would never tell the police anything, either River Police or the ordinary sort. If the Princess Mary had started at Westminster Bridge, then whoever blew it up had got on before that—unless it was one of the people on the cruise. Most likely it was a porter or servant of some sort, what Monk called “invisible people.” But Scuff knew beggars, peddlers, petty thieves, people on the fringes of life—they often walked unseen, but they saw everyone.
It took him most of the morning to find exactly the right ones. Far more had changed than he could have foreseen. People had grown up; some had gone away, perhaps to sea. Some had died. No one seemed to know him anymore, and the mudlarks—the boys who scavenged on the shore for bits and pieces they could sell, as he had once done—were all strangers to him. And they all looked so small! He had not really thought of it before, but when he remembered how many new pairs of trousers Hester had bought him, he realized he’d probably grown six inches in the last few years.
Suddenly he felt awkward. They should have grown too, and they hadn’t. He saw one boy with no socks and odd boots, just as he had had. He had been going to speak to him and then changed his mind, feeling self-conscious—no, more than that, guilty. He could give this boy a few pence for a pie and a cup of tea, but what about all the others? Scuff now ate well, whenever he wanted to. Why not them? He had been no different from them, once.
He walked away along the bank. The wind in his face smelled of salt and fish and the fetid thickness of river mud. A string of barges went past, the lighterman balancing effortlessly.
Scuff did not know how he ought to feel. How could a few years make him into a different person?
Just beyond the New Crane Stairs by the West India Docks he found a boy he used to know. He was taller and heavier than before, but the wild pattern of his hair was just the same. He was standing in front of a pile of debris. There were glints of metal and brass in it, possibly something worth salvaging.
“ ’Allo, Mucker,” Scuff said cheerfully. “ ’Ere, I’ll ’elp yer.” He took part of the weight Mucker was carrying, and his legs nearly buckled under it. Scuff was taller and heavier than he used to be, too, but he was not used to hard physical labor anymore.
Mucker looked startled. “ ’Oo the ’ell are you?”
“Scuff. Don’t you remember me?”
“Scuff?” Mucker’s blunt face twisted with disbelief. “Never! Scuff were a useless little article, a foot shorter’n you! Fly as an eel, but …” He stared at Scuff with narrowed eyes. “Wot ’appened to yer? Somebody stretch yer legs?”
“Yeah, summink like that,” Scuff agreed, resting one foot on an old timber. “Want ter talk to yer. I’ll get yer a decent pie an’ a cup o’ tea.”
“Wi’ wot?” Mucker asked suspiciously. Then he took a second look at Scuff’s jacket and trousers and decided he was possibly on to a good thing. “Yeah, if yer want. But I ain’t rattin’ on nobody.”
“Know anyone who were drowned in that boat what blew up?” Scuff asked casually.
Mucker’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “Jeez! No. Do you? Yer gone up in the world, ain’t yer? They was all toffs!”
“Crew as well?” Scuff asked drily.
“No, course not.” Mucker stopped abruptly. “Why’d yer want to know? Wot’s it ter you?”
Scuff was prepared for that one. He smiled. “Making my way,” he replied. “Wouldn’t rat on a friend, past or present. But I reckon as someone ’oo’d blow up two hundred people ’oo are just ’aving fun is no friend of anyone on our river. Would you?”
Mucker did not even hesitate. “No. It’s bad for everyone. So wot d’yer think yer goin’ ter do about it, then?”
“Boat picked up all these people at Westminster Bridge. Where’d it come from before that? Who got on wi’ explosive stuff and set it in the bow?”
“ ’Ow d’you know it were in the bow?” Mucker asked instantly.
“ ’Cos I know someone ’oo was on the river an’ saw it go up. Anyway, stands to reason. It went down bow first, not broke its back. They’re pulling it up now.” He waved his arm in the general direction of the wreck.
“Wot’s it worth?” Mucker asked bluntly. “More’n a cup o’ tea?”
“A blind eye now and then, when you need it,” Scuff replied without hesitation. He had seen that one coming, too.
Mucker grinned. “I always thought you was a fly little sod,” he said cheerfully. “Right—ye’re on. Come back termorrer.” He turned back to his work dismissively and resumed sorting through his find.
Scuff had never imagined he could learn enough in one day. School would have to be forfeited tomorrow and maybe the day after as well. He slapped Mucker on the shoulder in agreement. The promise was made. He might have to ask Hester for money for more pies, but he’d deal with that one only if he had to.
The next person he looked for was a bargee that he had known when he was a mudlark. Again, it took several moments before the man recognized him, and Scuff had to bite his tongue not to apologize for his good fortune. He gave the same reason for wanting to know about the wreck of the Princess Mary: that it was bad for the river.
“They’ll be coming around asking everyone on the river what they know,” he said reasonably. “If they think of it.”
The bargee was busy splicing ropes. His gnarled fingers grasped the shiny hook and wove it in and out almost as if the task needed no thought. Scuff had seen old women knit the same way.
