Chapter Fourteen

THE LITTLE BRASS clock on the bookshelf weakly tinged the hour. James stood by the arched window as crowds gathered outside the council building. Despite what the Blackrabbit Courant had reported, the mood of the townsfolk had yet to shift in favour of the C.T.C. patrols. Indeed, it had taken just two days for the people of Port Knot to take to the streets to voice their concerns over the armed soldiers on their streets during daylight hours. “I just don’t understand what they’re so worked up about.”

Rabbit’s ceremonial mask failed to hide the rolling of her eyes. “Mr Knight and I did warn you, Captain Godgrave. I’m surprised at Swan pushing ahead with this. She ought to have known better.”

“Can’t these blithering nincompoops see we’re trying to help?”

“All they see is more weapons on their streets.”

James’s blood was up. “There’s a world of difference between a musket in the hands of a C.T.C. officer and a pistol in the grubby hands of a highwayman! Why don’t you go out and talk to them?”

“I already tried. There’s only so much I can do. I can’t force them to accept you. Nobody likes to feel as though they’re constantly being monitored.”

The newspaper on Rabbit’s desk had article after article about how the public was throwing their support behind the C.T.C. soldiers and welcoming them with open arms. The truth was somewhat different. A good many patrols had been either forcibly removed from premises or denied entry altogether. Some townspeople were even tipping their chamber pots onto patrols from high windows. One such occurrence led to several injuries.

One soldier reported how she’d been pelted with rotten cabbages for trying to find out where a barrel of rum in someone’s front parlour had come from. None of these stories had been printed thanks to the C.T.C’s influence over the paper. Though with the growing discord, James wondered how much longer the deception could be maintained and vowed to do something—anything—to prolong it.

The shouts from outside grew louder as more people arrived.

“You can’t just sit there while a baying mob gathers at your door.”

Sighing, Rabbit stood, and left her office. James followed her to a balcony overlooking the road in front of the town hall. The gates to the town hall grounds had been closed and two guards posted. The shouting grew louder when the crowd spotted them.

James thought there was something primal about the sight of this woman standing above the crowd in her simple gown and her animal mask made of feathers. Something ancient.

Rabbit raised her hands to silence the rabble. It almost worked. “People of Port Knot, please, I understand your anger.”

“Then why did you let it happen?” one voice called out.

“Get rid of them!” shouted another. “No greencoats on our streets!”

Rabbit held her hands open as she spoke. “The presence of armed C.T.C. officers in our town is temporary. Until the situation with the gangs is under control, we need—”

“We have a Watch—let them take care of it!”

“I agree that our Watch is doing their very best, but these are unprecedented times and they call for unprecedented measures. Captain Godgrave here may not be a Blackrabbit native but I can assure you he is one of us in spirit. He wants only the best for our town. Isn’t that so, Captain?”

James squared his shoulders and spoke in his very loudest voice. “Absolutely. My officers are the most highly trained, the most skilled, and the most disciplined in the entire Chase Trading Company. They will keep you safe from the ruffians and cutthroats.”

A chorus of booing erupted from the mob. One woman, eyes full of tears, shouted up to him. “Then how do you explain what happened in Gull’s Reach this morning? Your lot strong-armed their way into our building, broke down our doors, and dragged my cousin away in tears!”

“If my officers entered a premises, I can assure you they had a very good—”

“They had no reason, and they had no right!”

“They had every damn right!” James struck the balcony wall with his fist. His face had flushed red; he could feel it. “They’re trying to keep you safe, you ungrateful wretch, can’t you see that?”

The booing and jeering grew louder.

Rabbit crossed her arms. “Temper, Captain. You are not at sea now, and these are not your crew.”

“If I didn’t know better,” James said, “I’d say you were enjoying this.”

“Captain Godgrave! I’m affronted beyond belief.”

James grabbed his cap from the table and marched out of the office. He hurried downstairs, muttering under his breath the entire time. In the hall, he paused at the front door, waiting for it to be opened.

“Captain, I think it might be safer if you were to leave through the rear doors.”

James stared at the doorwoman. “Young lady, I do not leave establishments through the rear doors like some tradesman. Open. Up.”

The doorwoman gulped and did as she was told. She waved to the guards at the gate. James strode out into the still-booing crowd. Someone reached for him, but he slapped their hand away and bellowed in his very best sea voice. “If a single one of you bath-shy miscreants lays a finger on me, I’ll have you all thrown in the gaolhouse!”

The crowd backed away enough for him to reach his carriage. The door carried the seal of the Chase Trading Company—a letter C entwined within a ship’s wheel. Someone had smeared something foul across it and the handle. He walked to the other side of the carriage, climbed in, and sat, breathing heavily. The ungracious mob of Port Knot would soon be put to heel—he would make sure of it.

The carriage left Trivia Place, pulled out onto Quarrier’s Run, and followed the winding road to the docklands. They passed the C.T.C. draughting office and stopped outside a whitewashed building on the harbour’s edge. James composed himself and disembarked.

Perty Hancock welcomed him inside. “It’s all ready, sir.”

“Some good news, at last.”

The main entrance led to a bright mezzanine overlooking the floor below. He leaned on a railing. Below him, a number of desks were occupied by some of his soldiers. Before him, a great curving turret of glass and iron ran from the roof to the sea below and offered the chance to survey the piers and curving sweep of the docklands.

“Swan sent word she’ll be arriving this afternoon to speak with you,” Perty said. “We should have everything ready by then. There is a small dock underneath, at the base of the glass turret. Carved out of the rocks. Or there might have already been a cave there. I didn’t ask. We can load and sail a jolly from right inside the building if we need to.”

“And the cells?”

“Ready and waiting to be filled.” Perty kept her voice low. “In fact, they were ready before I arrived. So very good of Swan to provide all this for us. She must have been planning this for a while.”

James smiled and raised his eyebrows. “She may well have been.” He rapped his knuckles on the railing, drawing the attention of everyone on the floor. He stood straight and addressed his people. “Today starts a new chapter in the story of Port Knot. No longer will these streets be overrun by rogues and ne’er-do-wells. Today, they will face the wrath of you—my Blackrabbit Sentinels.”

VINCE SAT STUDYING a map of the town, running his finger along the roads and lanes he knew so well when young Brendan ran into the Watch House. “Ms Fontaine says you’re to come to Gull’s Reach right away, sir.”

Vince grabbed his tricorne and hailed a coach. On the swift ride to Gull’s Reach, he couldn’t help but notice the number of people hurriedly walking away from the area. He found Sorcha and Exeter standing in a shop doorway.

“The Gunbrides are up to something.” Sorcha led him closer to River Walk. “They’ve posted sentries on Bezzle Bridge. They’re not letting anyone in or out.”

A little island connected to the town by a single, great stone bridge over the slender river Lowena, Gull’s Reach had always been of a law unto itself. The Reach consisted of a collection of tall, flat-roofed tenement buildings shot through with arcades and had been Vince’s base of operations until the hurricane of last summer.

“Looking for new blood?” Vince asked as they hid from view.

“Conscripting, you mean,” Exeter said.

“No. I don’t think so, anyway,” Sorcha said. “This doesn’t feel right. They’ve never been so brazen before. I spoke to someone who sneaked out before they blocked the bridge, a man named Arthur. He said the Gunbrides were putting their people on the roofs and spreading them throughout the buildings. They brought supplies with them. Food, water, ammunition.”

“Here to stay, then,” Vince said. “Can’t barge in and knock their heads; they’ll pick us off from the windows.”

“And civilians might be caught in the crossfire,” Exeter said. “I hate to say it but I think we should get the greencoats. We’re going to need serious armament to put this lot down.”

Vince just grunted. Holding his hands up, he stepped out to where the sentries could clearly see him.

“What are you doing, ye mad eejit?” Sorcha asked in a hiss.

“Going to talk to them,” Vince said. “No need for anyone to die.”

Leaping dolphins held wide, flat Bezzle Bridge on their backs as it spanned the narrow river which divided Gull’s Reach from the rest of the town. He slowly walked towards the four sentries—seasoned Gunbrides, all, with steady hands. He knew them by name. He’d personally recruited two of them. They all steadied their pepper-box muskets at his chest. Each weapon had been decorated in a unique way. Painted trees adorned one, stormy clouds another.

He stopped at the boundary and called out to them. “Get him.”

The sentries exchanged glances before sending the youngest to the nearest tenement. After a few minutes, she returned with Hugo Lambshead in tow. He still wore his plum coat over his bare chest.

Vince raised his voice. “Got an explanation?”

Lambshead held his musket up. “It has been decided that Gull’s Reach is ours. Leave.”

“Can’t.” Vince slowly lowered his hands.

“The people here want us to protect them.”

“From what?”

“The greencoats, in part, but mainly you,” Lambshead said. “The Watch used to be there just to break up bar fights and deter thieves. Useful, in a pinch, but hardly essential. Now you’re in charge, the people don’t feel safe knowing you can legally, and with the backing of the council and magistrates, have anyone who crosses you thrown in gaol, or worse. The people of the Reach know you better than most. You took a special interest in this part of town. You recruited from here. So you’ll have to forgive them if they don’t feel like you have their best interests at heart. The people want us, Vince. Not you. They don’t trust you.”

Vince shuffled about where he stood. He found it a hard point to argue. While not many knew his face, most everyone knew his reputation. “Speak for them?”

“You can come and ask them yourself if you like,” Lambshead said, stepping aside.

Sorcha rushed from her hiding spot. “You can’t!”

Vince turned and winked at her. “Don’t worry.” Only as he walked across the bridge did he realise how winking while wearing an eyepatch just looked a lot like blinking.

He walked with Lambshead to the closest tenement. A cheerless, flat-roofed lump of red brick many stories high.

On the empty stairs, Vince stopped and took Lambshead by the elbow. A move that earned him a glancing blow to the head from Summersong. “Listen. Listen.” He looked about himself, making certain they were alone. “Just stop. Risked my life when I left the gangs. Had people come after me because of it. Try to kill me. Did this to me.” He touched his patch. “Doesn’t have to be that way for you. Or the rest of the shadow council. Only been a year but the town has changed. Have a unique chance to get out now. All of you.”

“Rabbit wants us all behind bars.”

“Rabbit hired me to stop the gangs. Doesn’t care how I do it. Wind down your operations. Lay fallow until people forget. Dismantle it all and none of you need face repercussions. None of you need see the inside of the gaolhouse. Or worse."

Lambshead raised his chin. “Are you threatening me?”

“Think the greencoats will be lenient towards you? Because they want the town. Want to take it from the Watch. So long as I’m around, I can protect you all.”

“Hah, where have I heard that before? And let’s suppose we did all pack up and go home. What’s to stop someone else from taking our place?”

Vince straightened his back. “Me.”

Lambshead snorted an ugly laugh. “You overestimate your importance, old man. But you are right about one thing. The town has changed. It’s no longer going to listen to you. Time was, we all jumped when you clicked your fingers. Time was, we followed where you lead. Those days are gone. The town no longer needs you.” He looked Vince up and down. “Frankly, I’d be surprised if anywhere does.”