The Curse of Salamander Street (12 page)

Beadle gripped the horses’ reins with both hands, knowing his life depended on it. They began to slow. Yard by yard, step by step, their pace changed from a mad gallop to a canter and
then to a trot. He pulled harder, unable to speak a word, his mouth clamped with fear. The driver leant upon the brake, holding it fast as the leather and wood braced the wheels and squealed.

Far ahead Beadle could see the lights of Peveril and the mouth of the cavern in which it was built. Upon the hill was the dark outline of a large castle. Scattered all around were the smoking chimneys of the houses. To the west was the vast entrance to a large cave.

‘You did it,’ said the driver, panting hard and drawing his tight breath. Beadle turned his head and looked away. ‘I’d lost my strength couldn’t find it in me to hold on – but you did it.’

‘I fear it was not I but the lightning that saved us,’ Beadle said, his teeth still chattering with fear. ‘What of the bugler and Raphah?’

‘Pray they are not lost to the madman,’ the driver said.

The lights of Peveril beckoned them onwards.

G
ALPHUS walked nimbly along Salamander Street and then, without saying a word, turned into a long, narrow alleyway. Thomas followed, wondering what awaited him. The alleyway was darker than the street, with only a feeble lamp at the far end that gave a sombre glow. There was no light from the sky. It was as if the whole of the district had been placed under a pudding bowl and the world that Thomas knew was no more. The further that he walked from the Salamander Inn, the dirtier the streets became, and here was no exception. With every step, the alley began to fill with the flotsam of London life; at every doorway some unfortunate huddled silently in the gloom, holding out a hand for an offering of grace.

Galphus strode on, oblivious to all around him. He never stopped or looked back to see if he was being followed. Pace after pace, he prodded his cane sharply to the ground. Step after step he walked boldly through the dark. They followed the alley until it turned into another and then another. Left and right, faster and faster Thomas followed until they walked through what was nothing more than a crack between the buildings. He knew not if he travelled north or south or how far
they had come as their route twisted back and forth through dank, mouldy alleyways that stank of the sea.

‘Mister … Mister Galphus,’ Thomas said as he attempted to catch the man, nearly breaking into a trot to keep pace with his steps. ‘Where do we go?’

‘Onwards, ever onwards. Questions, always questions,’ Galphus barked with a swagger and a clatter of his cane as his coat appeared to sparkle in the lamplight..

‘Mister Galphus,’ Thomas belched breathlessly. ‘How far do we go? We have walked for miles.’

Galphus stopped suddenly. He turned and looked at the boy. ‘So, Thomas, you think you know we are far from Salamander Street?’

‘We have been walking for the hour. I came to make shoes, not wear them out.’

‘Shoes? Did I say you would make shoes? Then we must go back to Salamander Street at once.’ Galphus made a small sidestep and vanished from view. ‘This way,’ he said curtly, his voice echoing from the darkness.

Thomas realised that Galphus had slipped into yet another part of the labyrinth that he was being dragged through. Quite lost, he dutifully followed, trying to catch up with Galphus. The man strode on at the speed of a horse. Thomas ran to catch up before he completely lost Galphus from view.

Soon they came to a place where there were no street lamps. Thomas felt his way forward by holding out his hands to both sides of the passageway and touching the cold stones. He could hear the clatter of the cane and the sharp tap of Galphus’s shoes a little distance ahead. The passage made a sudden turn and opened out into a neat and well-lit yard.

Galphus stopped in the light of two wall lamps that stood like sentinels by a large green wooden door. It had an ornate handle and a knocking plate moulded in the shape of a lion’s
head. Above the door was a large carved shoe. It was painted in what had once been bright red, but years had taken away its shine and glory. Now it hung there, waiting. Thomas could see no other way from the place. Only the route they had followed had brought them to the door and he wondered how this place could be chanced upon or how it could bring any trade.

With his left hand, Galphus raised his cane and struck the door three times. He turned to Thomas and tried to smile. ‘We are not but a minute from where we started, Thomas. This is the Salamander Factory,’ he said proudly, nodding with contentment and rubbing his angular chin.

‘Factory?’ Thomas asked, unsure what he meant.

‘A place of business, a building containing equipment for manufacture. Have you never been to a factory?’ he asked. Thomas looked even more puzzled. ‘Then you shall have a great delight. I see factories as the palaces of the future. The people shall live at the place they work. Their beds can be next to their anvils. Gone the squalor and the roughness of life. This is fair trade. Mankind shall do what it was meant for – work and sleep, Thomas. Work and sleep.’

Galphus puckered his lips to kiss the air. The door to the factory opened and he stepped inside.

Thomas followed, not knowing what would be in this factory. He turned to see who had let them in and there in the shadow of the door was a young child barely five years old. He did not know if it was a boy or a girl. It wore a regimental suit of grey wool with a jacket of the same cloth over a clean white shirt. The child had short-cropped hair and upon its head a neat round skullcap that gripped tightly to its forehead.

Thomas smiled at the child, who neither spoke nor acknowledged that he was there. Galphus pressed on, not speaking to anyone as he entered a busy hallway with a spiral staircase of rough wood that spun upwards out of sight. On every side of
the hallway, people all wearing the same clothes busied themselves. From every corner came the sound of hammering and industry. An overpowering smell of tanning leather burnt Thomas’s nose and caused him to cough with the fumes. Galphus led him onwards through rooms and passageways that seemed to go on forever. The factory was brightly lit. No one looked at him nor spoke to him or Galphus, all went about their business as if they couldn’t see him. They carried boxes from one place to the other, climbed the stairs to the rooms above and descended to the depths through a door in the far wall.

It was as if Thomas had stepped into a gigantic anthill where a multitude of similar creatures carried out tasks without being asked. All just knew what they had to do and how to do it.

‘This way,’ Galphus said, leading Thomas up the staircase to a higher floor. Thomas followed on and undid the collar of his shirt. ‘There is much to see and you cannot become a shoemaker until I have shown you everything. I take it that is why you have come to Salamander Street?’

Thomas didn’t know what Galphus really meant. He remembered Crane commanding them to say nothing, so he just said
yes
– but quietly, in a whisper, hoping it would not be heard. It was easy to say and fell from his lips without any concern.

‘Sorry?’ asked Galphus.

‘Yes,’ Thomas said again.

‘Then before we go another step let us sign the contract of employment.’ Galphus laughed and then, as if he were a fairground magician, a quill pen and piece of parchment appeared in his hand. ‘Here. This is for you. A job for life and your life for the job. All will be found and you will be found wanting … nothing. I even have something that will make you smile with merriment. Sign and we will be friends and the teaching will begin.’

‘But …’

‘There are no
buts
in life, Thomas. Do you think I would have got to my station in life if I had said
but
all the time? Seize the moment and every opportunity that comes your way. Say a brilliant
yes
to everything and the world will open like a clamshell, nay, an oyster, and there inside you will find the most precious thing of all. The pearl. Sign. Quickly.’

Galphus thrust the pen into his hand as they stood upon the landing in front of another large door. Thomas felt a compulsion to run as an inner voice screamed to him. But Galphus grabbed his hand and in the flick of the wrist, Thomas saw his name scrawled in black upon the paper. He read his name clearly printed upon the contract and then fine large letters that he could easily see. As he read on they grew smaller and smaller, until by halfway down the page they were like tiny dots that looked as though they moved across the parchment of their own volition.

‘DONE!’ Galphus shouted as the door in front of them opened. ‘See, Thomas. When you say
yes
to something doors will open.’

‘I would like to go back and see Captain Crane,’ Thomas demanded. He had suddenly realised that what he had put his name to was an indenture of employment. ‘He will want to know where I am if I do not return. This is
not
why I am here. I came for a day, not a lifetime.’

‘Thomas, Thomas, Thomas – ever doubtful and kept in the dark.’ Galphus stooped to him and took a hankersniff from his pocket and put it into Thomas’s hand. ‘I am sorry, lad. I now realise he didn’t tell you. I knew you were coming because Crane told me. He sent word days ago before he left Whitby. Crane said he would bring two young people who were without work or family. I paid him his usual fee as agreed and met him in the Salamander Inn as requested. We couldn’t say so at the
inn, but our meeting was arranged. All has been pretence – Crane could neither care for you nor help you in your future. You are every bit the young man he said you would be. You will be happier here than in Whitby and safe from Obadiah Demurral.’

‘Demurral? How did you know?’ Thomas asked.

‘My old friend, Jacob Crane. He told me everything, everything. Don’t worry; Kate will be here within the day. Couldn’t have you both coming here at once.’

‘Crane would never do this to us, he would have said. He never mentioned a factory or work. Told us we would have a new life with him, that he’d look after us,’ Thomas protested as he looked about for a means of escape. He felt hoodwinked and betrayed, and for a moment he believed Crane to be a liar.

‘And that he has. Crane has looked after you in the best way he could by bringing you here. I in turn will keep my bargain and give you an apprenticeship. From now until you are twenty-one I will encourage you as a craftsman and then on that day you will be free to leave and set up for yourself.’

Thomas felt uncomfortably numb, lifeless and without feeling. He could hardly take a breath for the panic that filled his chest. Something stuck in his throat and twisted his neck. He wanted to run, to jump the staircase and fly away. He tried to recall the twists and turns that had brought them there. In his mind he went over and over the maze through which they had travelled. Somehow it had all been a misunderstanding. ‘I can’t stay that long – I’ll be old,’ Thomas said, his mind spinning with what was happening to his life.

‘Old, but wise,’ Galphus said as he took him by the arm and led him onwards.

They stood on a large gantry overlooking a vast factory floor. Each anvil was the same. By each one stood a worker dressed in grey with a white shirt. As if keeping time they all hammered
the leather and smoothed it flat. On the far side, lit by strong lamplight, were row upon row of sewing lads who needled the threads through the leather to form the shoes. They moved as in a dance, the thread slipped through with a twist of the elbow and wrist and back again and again.

‘Look, Thomas. This is the future. One day the entire world shall be like this. Gone the squalor and the hunger. A worker is worth his keep and while he shall work he shall live.’ Galphus pulled a fine timepiece from his pocket and looked upon it. ‘Did you know that a lad of your age need only work for ten hours a day to be profitable? Think of it, Thomas. That gives you fourteen hours of your own time.’

‘Then I can see Crane, once I have worked?’ he asked.

‘Crane has gone by now. I paid him the money he needed for his ship and now he is gone. Kate will stay the night with Mister Pallium and then she too will come and be
indentured
. I will find you rooms nearby and you can share a fireplace and a hearth.’

‘Tomorrow?’ Thomas asked, as what Galphus had said began to take hold.

‘And you will stay?’ Galphus asked, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. ‘And not try to run away?’

Thomas nodded in a daze as he stared at the factory and the hundred people in neat rows all hammering in time and sewing frantically. Not knowing what had happened, unsure if he were in a dream, he tried to gather his thoughts. It all began to take shape. Crane had been so adamant to come to this place, Thomas thought. Of all the inns and lodging houses in London, Crane had brought them to Salamander Street and had given him to Galphus.

‘How much did you pay him?’ Thomas asked, his mind twisting in sudden anger towards Crane.

‘Not as much as you are really worth as an apprentice. I know
someone who would give far more for you than I ever would,’ Galphus replied sweetly. ‘Then again, I shall have each day’s work from you. And Thomas, with my help, all this could one day be yours. I have been looking for an heir. Marriage is beyond me and I would like to hand all this to someone I can trust. Could you be that man, I ask myself?’

Thomas didn’t reply. He still couldn’t think; his wits were screaming to him whilst he tried to control his body and not let it shake. All around, the sound of hammering went on and on relentlessly. No one spoke; eyes were kept to the floor as the workers went by each other.

‘I will take you to your room. Every new boy has a companion who will teach you all that you need to know. Remember, Thomas, I am always here. Look upon me as a … father.’

Galphus lead Thomas down the stairs and across the factory floor. He could see that here all the workers were about his age. None of them looked at him, spoke or even smiled. All of their concentration appeared to be upon the anvils and the leather that they pounded and softened with what looked like felt hammers.

Together they crossed the room. Galphus marched at his usual pace, pounding his cane to the time of the hammers. It was as if they were inside some gigantic clock and the hammering was the signal for time to move on another second. Eventually they left the factory floor and stood in the entrance to a large room with rows of neat, clean beds. Each bed had a small locker by its side with a new candle in a pot-holder. At the far end a lad swept the floor with a brush that rasped against the wood with its thick bristles.