Cat Among the Pigeons (24 page)

‘Who's this young man, Sister Catherine?' asked Miss Miller. ‘Is he a friend of thine?'

I was momentarily lost for words. My mind
was in a whirl as I tried to work out what his presence here meant.

‘Well, lady,' said Shepherd in an unusually polite tone for him, ‘you could say that. Cat and I go back a long way. We know each other well. She knew what I'd done, and I knew what she'd do. No way would she tumble for the boy trick twice. And it's worked out far better than even I 'oped with 'er turnin' up before the bone'ead boxer and 'is 'eavy mob.'

‘Boy trick? What hast thou done?' Miss Miller was understandably confused. ‘Art thou one of the Billingsgate boys we are looking for?'

Time to disabuse my companions. ‘No, Miss Miller, he's not. He's Billy Shepherd, Pedro's gaoler,' I explained, glaring at him.

‘Aw, Cat, I wouldn't put it like that. I provided Blackie with temporary accommodation of the 'ighest standard for a small remuneration.' He dug into the brazier with a shovel and poured something out on to his gloved hand. ‘Chestnut anyone?'

‘You know where you can shove that chestnut, Boil,' I hissed, feeling a familiar surge of anger. He was loving this – every minute of my bewilderment.

‘Sister Catherine!' exclaimed Miss Miller.

‘Don't fret, lady,' laughed Shepherd. ‘I'm used to her tongue. She only says these things 'cos she likes me so much.'

I ignored them both. ‘Just tell me where Pedro is.'

‘No.' He cracked the chestnut shell in his fist and popped the sweet white nut into his mouth, watching me all the while.

‘Tell me!' I yelled at him, stamping my foot. Every minute he wasted could mean that Pedro's ship had time to set sail. ‘Tell me or I'll –'

‘Or you'll do what, Cat?' grinned Billy. ‘Sure you don't want a nut? They're very good. Nicked them meself on me way 'ere – just for old times' sake, to keep me 'and in.'

I couldn't think what I'd do, except perhaps self-destruct in an explosion of pure temper.
Fortunately, my companions were not so clueless.

‘Or she'll pray for you,' said Miss Miller, stepping in front of me. ‘Come on, sisters, let us lay our hands on our errant brother and bring him to the Lord.' The three Miss Millers swooped on Billy before he had time to react and hooked him with their tiny fists.

‘Oi! Get off!' protested Billy. It wasn't his style to lower himself to beat off three elderly ladies. Besides, the Miss Millers' grip was surprisingly tenacious after all those years of needle-work and letter-writing.

‘Oh, Father, lookest Thou on this miserable sinner, William Shepherd. Change his heart, Oh Lord. Make him obedient to Your Will,' intoned Miss Miller.

‘Amen,' replied her sisters.

‘Cleanse him with hyssop so that he may repent and lead a new life to Thy Glory,' trilled Miss Prudence.

‘Amen,' went the response.

‘Cat, call 'em off,' said Billy. He looked
worried. Perhaps the Miss Millers had tapped into a hitherto unsuspected strain of religious belief in Shepherd? The sight gave me great pleasure.

I gave him an angelic smile and closed my eyes, placing my hand on his sleeve. ‘Though his soul is now as ugly as his outer person, create in him a new heart so that he may lead us in the right way,' I prayed.

‘Nah, Cat, not you. You're not allowed to get religion!' he protested, trying to prise my fingers from his jacket.

‘Yea, even though he is but a worm in Thy sight, Thou carest for the unrighteous as much as the righteous,' said Miss Fortitude, getting into the swing of our impromptu prayer meeting.

But my kind friends were not to know that Shepherd had a temper to match mine or perhaps they would not have drawn so close to him. It now boiled over.

‘Get off me, you old witches!' he shouted, shaking himself free.

‘Oh Lord . . .!' began Miss Miller, about to
take hold again but I saw it just in time. Billy flicked his wrist. A knife appeared in his hand. I pulled Miss Miller back by the skirt. His swipe missed us both.

‘He tried to knife Patience!' exclaimed Miss Fortitude in a shocked voice.

‘Of course he did,' I said bitterly. ‘He's Billy Shepherd, not the Good Shepherd. Look, Billy, leave my friends alone. You've got no quarrel with them.'

Shepherd smoothed down his rumpled jacket, annoyed that he had lost his composure in front of us. ‘You're right, Cat. When I 'eard from Old Jean they'd taken you in, I knew they must be daft cows. Now I've seen it for meself.'

‘You knew where I was?'

‘Course, Moggy. Someone 'as to keep an eye on you. You're too dangerous to let out of sight for long.'

The reach of his influence unnerved me. He was a formidable person to have as an enemy.

‘I could say the same about you,' I conceded.

‘And you'd be right. Sounds to me as if we're made for each other.' He gave me a strange smile.

‘Made to torment each other, you mean.'

He just shrugged at that.

Miss Miller had now recovered from almost being skewered by one of the London underworld's most infamous characters. ‘Sister Catherine, can this man help us or not? We have no time to waste,' she asked sharply, casting a less than charitable look at her assailant.

I gazed straight at him, wondering the same thing. ‘Why were you waiting for me, Billy?

He took another chestnut. ‘That's better, Cat – back to business. You tell me why I'm here.'

‘I can think of many reasons.'

‘Go on.'

‘To laugh at me as I lose my friend thanks to you?' He said nothing. ‘Or perhaps you've a deal with Hawkins now and you plan to hand me over?' He spat a piece of shell into the brazier. ‘Or maybe, now you've delivered your cargo, you're free to help me without ruining
your reputation with the canting crew?'

He smiled. ‘Now what makes you think I'd do that for you?'

He was right: why would he? ‘Selfless' and ‘Billy Shepherd' were three words that would never be used in the same sentence.

‘There has to be something in it for you. You want something from . . . from me?'

‘Very good, Cat. Now what would that be, do you think?'

He'd once wanted a diamond from me – but he knew I had no money now. I couldn't think of anything I had that he could possibly want.

‘I don't know,' I admitted.

This answer pleased him immensely. ‘I'm glad I'm not so predictable that even your mind-readin' powers are stumped. I'll tell you: I want you to be in me debt. I want you to leave 'ere tonight knowin' that you owe me somethink. Between you and me, Cat, there'll be an invisible chain which I can tug any time I want to call in my favour. 'Ow does that sound to you?'

It sounded terrifying. But did that matter? He was our only way to Pedro – so what if I had to bargain with the devil?

‘All right – so long as –'

‘No conditions, Moggy,' he interrupted.

How I hated his rotten grin! He had me – and he knew it.

‘Sister Catherine, don't give your word. It's not wise,' whispered Miss Prudence.

‘I know it's not – that's why he's doing it.' I crossed my fingers behind my back. ‘All right, we have an agreement. Now, tell me where Pedro is.'

Shepherd's smile grew so broad, it looked as though he would crack his pimply face in two.

‘I'll do better than that – I'll take you there meself.' He nodded down at the steps where a little vessel was tied up. ‘You don't 'alf give value for money, Cat. Watchin' you work is an eddycation on its own. I wouldn't miss seein' you try and stop the captain and forty tars settin' sail when they want. Get in, ladies. We're bound for the
Phoenix
.'

I shook my head. ‘Not all of us. Miss Fortitude and Miss Prudence, stay here and let the others know where we are. Your sister and I will do our best to delay the ship.'

‘Aw, Cat, don't you think you're up to the job on your own?' he mocked.

Billy offered his hand to help Miss Miller into the boat, but I was pleased to see her refuse it with a sniff of disgust as she got in unaided. With her sisters watching us nervously from the quayside, we set off on to the river.

SCENE 2 – AM I NOT A MAN AND A BROTHER?

Billy rowed us out to the
Phoenix
, whistling tunelessly between his teeth. The ship lay just downstream of London Bridge in the middle of the river. From the lights and activity on deck it looked suspiciously as if the captain was preparing to weigh anchor.

‘Hurry, Billy,' I urged.

‘Don't fret, Cat: they won't go just yet.'

His confidence was no comfort. As I watched the snowflakes settle and melt on his straining back, I wondered what other surprises he had in store for me. He had never said that he did not have another deal with Hawkins, and I would not put it past him to double-cross me.

Miss Miller sat at the other end of the boat, her head bowed. She only raised it as we neared the ship.

‘Let me go first, Sister Catherine,' she said. ‘The captain might listen to me if he is a godly man.'

Billy gave a snort of laughter and spat over the side. ‘Captain Janssen, a godly man? Pah! You know wot, lady, you're almost as funny as Moggy 'ere.'

That did not sound very encouraging.

Billy put two fingers in his mouth and let out a sharp whistle. ‘Ahoy there,
Phoenix
! Three to come aboard.'

A sailor peered over the side, holding out a lantern. Seeing there were ladies involved, he let down the chair – a piece of tackle a bit like a wooden swing – to hoist Miss Miller up. I did not wait for it to be lowered back down. I followed Billy up the rope ladder.

Arriving on deck, I saw Miss Miller in earnest conversation with a large man with white-blond hair, a hooked nose and a thin mouth – Captain Janssen. Billy lolled against the rail and waved me forward.

‘At 'im, Cat! I won't get in the way if I watch from 'ere, will I?'

I gave him a sarcastic smile and hurried to Miss Miller's side. Twenty or so sailors had stopped work to watch the altercation.

‘Thou art holding the boy against his will,' she was arguing. ‘In the name of humanity, thou must let him free.'

‘I am a reasonable man, lady,' rumbled the captain in a deep voice with a Scandinavian accent. ‘But my passenger claims the boy is his servant. It is no business of mine to interfere.'

‘But it is!' Miss Miller may have been almost a foot shorter in stature than the captain, but she made up for it in the grandeur of her manner. ‘It is thy duty as a Christian to defend the weak.'

He seemed to find the idea highly amusing. ‘Hey, you hear that, bosun – me, the defender of the weak!'

‘Aye, captain, the weak don't last long on your ship. You give 'em a helping hand over the side if they're on the way out,' growled the bosun as
he sucked on the stem of his pipe.

I shivered at these words. Of course Hawkins' preferred vessel would be owned by a slaver of the very worst sort – I should've anticipated that. We were not going to get anywhere by appealing to his better nature – he didn't have one.

‘I have no time to talk religion with you, lady,' said Captain Janssen, turning away. ‘I have a ship to take out on the tide and unless you want to come with me to Jamaica, I suggest you return to shore.'

Miss Miller hooked his arm with the end of her umbrella. ‘I haven't finished with thee yet, my man,' she scolded. ‘Don't they teach manners where thou comest from? Dost thou not know that it's rude to turn thy back to a lady?'

I guessed that Miss Miller also knew it was fruitless to try and win him over and had switched to doing her best to distract and delay him. If we could just make enough fuss to stop the ship sailing until Mr Sharp arrived, we might stand a chance of saving Pedro. I would use the
time she had bought us to find my friend and see if I could set him free.

‘Bosun, clear the deck of strangers,' Janssen growled.

‘Not before I've taught thee how to behave as becomes a Christian gentleman,' cried Miss Miller in a shrill voice.

Entertained by Miss Miller's loud sermon to their captain as to the shortcomings in his upbringing, the crew did not try to stop me as I slipped away to search the ship. My hunt did not last long as no attempt had been made to hide Pedro. He was chained to the main mast, surrounded by a ring of gentlemen, chief among them Kingston Hawkins. My friend looked desperate, sitting with his arms around his legs, clearly freezing in the snowy weather.

‘Your health, gentlemen,' Hawkins said, raising a glass to his companions. ‘To my boy's happy homecoming.'

‘You said Kemble would never get away with stealing him from you and you were right!' said
an elderly man I recognized as Dr Juniper from the billiard room. ‘You'll make an example of him when you get back, I suppose? This boy's a rotten apple – leave him in the barrel and the whole place will rot.'