Chapter Sixteen

IT TOOK A day to arrange a meeting of the council. Rabbit had assured Vince they were taking his request seriously but stressed nothing could be done until the full council was available. Which meant waiting for Badger to return from his trip to Little Acorn on the south of the island.

On the morning of the meeting, Vince sat in the council chamber and drummed his sausage fingers on the oval table.

Rabbit couldn’t understand what she’d been told. “You’re saying Gull’s Reach wants the Gunbrides to act as, what, their own Watch?”

“Essentially,” Vince said.

Magpie fussed with his mask. “As if that place isn’t bad enough.”

“Did once say anyone was free to set up a Watch,” Vince said.

“I meant a respectable organisation of civic-minded citizens,” Rabbit said. “Not lunatics who wed their muskets.”

Captain James Godgrave threw open the doors to the council chamber, shouting at Mr Uglow, the clerk. “Yes, yes, I know the way. I’m not an ignoramus. Get me some tea, will you? Decent stuff, not the floral muck you gave me last time. Ah, council members, how delightful to see you again. And in your splendid masks.”

Rabbit tensed up when he spoke. His way of assuming everyone in any given room had just been sitting around waiting for him to arrive irked her to no end. That it happened to be true in most cases came as no balm. “Captain. Please take a seat.”

“Mr Knight, I wasn’t expecting to see you here, but it’s always a pleasure. Now, what is so urgent I had to come to this meeting in the middle of my luncheon? Have you finally discovered the murderer of poor Sergeant Spradbery?”

“Not yet,” Vince said.

“It’s war,” Badger said. “The people of Gull’s Reach have declared war on the town.”

“Now, you’re being a little extreme,” Magpie said. “We’re talking about a few armed troublemakers and their supporters. I’m sure Captain Godgrave’s Sentinels can—”

Rabbit sat up even straighter. “If we send more soldiers in there, people are going to be killed.”

“If that’s what it takes…” Magpie said. “All this is bad for the town’s reputation. We’ve seen how it’s affected trade already.”

Swan nodded her head. “Ships are already starting to avoid us. If we don’t nip this in the bud, it will hit the town coffers severely. Which is, I believe, why you were hired in the first place, Mr Knight. To stop the situation in this town from degrading any further?”

“Couldn’t have known this would happen,” Vince said. “Greencoats are making a bad situation worse.”

James coughed and blustered. “Now, I object very strongly to your accusation. My officers never act in anything but the most professional manner. If the situation in the town is worsening, it’s because the namby-pamby approach the Watch has been taking to these gangs has allowed them to blossom. Criminals are a weed—they must be thoroughly uprooted.”

Vince grunted and crossed his arms. “Seen where headstrong tactics lead.”

“What do you suggest?” Rabbit asked.

“Take them off the streets,” Vince said. “Greencoats. Sentinels. Whatever they’re calling themselves.”

“Absolutely not,” Swan said.

“Not on your life,” James said, eyebrows arched and smile broadening.

“Take them off until things calm down.”

“And how long will it take?” Swan asked. “How many ships will avoid the port until then? How much money will be lost?”

“More important things to worry about than money.”

Swan laughed and licked her lips.

“See why the Reach wants nothing to do with you,” Vince said. “Don’t care a damn about them. About the people.”

Swan tutted. “Of course we do; don’t be so childish. We can’t be held to ransom every time someone has an outlandish demand. The whole island depends on us, not just the people of Gull’s Reach.”

“People of the Reach are desperate,” Vince said. “Scared. Because of the greencoats. But more because of me. Feel like they don’t have any choice.”

“Well, we can solve half of that problem right now,” Swan said.

Fox cleared her throat. “Are we certain the idea is so unworkable? It’s no secret the Reach attracts a…certain kind of resident. The Watch has its hands full every time there’s a sporting event, or a new gin house opens. It would lessen the burden on them, and on the rest of the town, if there were some alternative. If the people of the Reach feel their needs are better met by the Gunbrides, ought we not give them a chance to prove it?”

“Gang gets bed in, they’ll never leave,” Vince said. “Not entirely.”

“You’d know better than anyone,” Magpie said.

Rabbit raised her hand before anyone else could speak. “Do you have a plan, Mr Knight?”

Vince grunted again. “Course.”

“Then I suggest you carry it out as soon as possible.”

WITH HIS PIECE said, James promptly left the council meeting. Nothing further of value would be decided with or without him present. He spotted Vince fixing his tricorne cap in place and leaving the town hall. The rain had started again, and James braced himself as he called out after him. He pulled his overcoat closed and dashed after Vince, calling all the while.

Finally, Vince stopped, and they took shelter under a jettying overhang. “Well?”

“That’s not very polite,” James said, laughing. “I haven’t seen you for a couple of days. I wanted to talk to you.”

“About?”

James stood with his hands on his hips before he noticed his elbow was getting dripped on. “I wanted to know how you were.”

Vince shrugged. “Fine. Same as ever.”

James tilted his head as he spoke. “Are you? Because you don’t look fine to me. You look as though you’ve hardly slept.”

“Lot going on.”

“True, true. And on that note, I just wanted to say my Sentinels stand ready to assist you with fighting the insurgence in Gull’s Reach.”

“Won’t be necessary,” Vince said, still avoiding his gaze. “Won’t be any fighting.”

“Do you really think you’ll be able to talk them down?”

Vince just growled a little, some deep murmur from the back of his throat.

“Oh, come now, you really don’t want to tell me your plan? We want the same thing—the Gunbrides out of Gull’s Reach.”

“Difference is I want them out alive.” Vince shook his head as he walked away.

That afternoon, James sat in the officers’ club of the Chase Trading Company headquarters. Overlooking the docklands, the club stood head and shoulders above any other establishment he’d visited in town. The bar was oak, the furniture leather, and the carpet woollen and overlaid with a smattering of rugs in the Ottoman style.

He swirled a brandy as a fire crackled in a nearby hearth, filling the air with the comforting aroma of peat. It reminded him of home. When he had his house in the countryside, he vowed, he would always have a fire on the go. The halls would fill with the aroma of peat. It would seep into the bones of the place.

On a side table lay some copies of the latest edition of the Blackrabbit Courant. The masthead featured a rabbit being chased by a swan, a badger, a magpie, and a fox. He lifted a copy.

The first article spoke of the Gunbrides’ takeover of Gull’s Reach and how it spelt disaster for the town. It lamented the feeble efforts of the Watch in general and even speculated on Vince Knight’s possible involvement with the takeover, as he had been spotted crossing the bridge and conspiring with the Gunbrides’ leader.

James wondered how much truth there was to the story. Vince had softened in his approach to the gangs. And he had indeed been going back and forth from Gull’s Reach. Perhaps they’d gotten to him? Either by appealing to their shared history or by blackmail?

An officious older woman approached him and bowed slightly as she spoke. “Captain Godgrave, a visitor.” Behind her came a dark-skinned young woman in a wheeled chair powered by a shiny horological engine underneath the seat.

“Ah, at last,” James said, rising to his feet. “I thought perhaps you’d gotten lost.”

“I had some trouble convincing the doorman to let me in,” she said, shaking his hand. “Ms Emmeline Hawksmoor. A pleasure.”

“Something to drink, Ms Hawksmoor?” James asked.

“Some stout would be lovely, thank you.” She manipulated a little lever on the arm of her chair and rolled it so she sat facing him.

James laughed a little as he spoke. “You don’t look like a stout drinker to me.”

She took a notebook from her satchel. “Someone has to do it. Now, Captain Godgrave, thank you for meeting with me today.”

“Not at all. It’s a pleasure.”

“It’s also mandated by the admiralty of the C.T.C.”

“It can be two things, can it not?” James said with a chuckle. “I was perusing your publication before you arrived.”

“What did you think?”

“I think it’s very impressive work. I also think it’s highly complimentary of my organisation.”

“Quite the coincidence considering the C.T.C. pays for it,” she said, all but rolling her bright eyes. “Your name, Godgrave. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before.”

“It’s an old Scottish name, from the time of the Illumination. Family lore has it my ancestors were instrumental in driving the adherents of the Roman religion out of the Highlands a thousand years ago. They took great delight in ridding themselves of its scourge and took the name Godgrave in celebration.”

She scribbled some notes on the page. Her amaranthine dress showed signs of wear around the bust and sleeves. Clearly not someone overly concerned with appearance.

“You are unattached, yes?”

“I can’t see how that would be of any interest to your readers?”

“Oh, believe me, anytime a handsome man in uniform struts down Quarrier’s Run, there’s interest. You’ve made quite an impression in your short time here. In more ways than one.”

“There’s nothing worse than a wallflower,” James said. “If one wants to get ahead in this world, one has to make one’s voice heard.” He deliberately put some extra thunder in his voice, to really drive home his point.

“I wonder what you make of the demonstrations outside the town hall? The people of Gull’s Reach, in particular, were certainly making their voices heard.”

“A lot of fuss about nothing. I spoke to my officers. The man they arrested, Bisbrown, was seen fleeing from a serious assault. He refused to go along with them, and so some force was necessary to extricate him.”

“I heard he lost a tooth.”

“The man he assaulted lost more than that.”

“He admitted his part in it, then?”

James twisted the silver ring on his little finger. “He will in time. I know seeing armed C.T.C. soldiers has been something of a shock, but it really is for the best. Without Blackrabbit, there would be no Chase Trading Company. We owe this island and its people a great debt. All we ask is a chance to repay it. And I should very much like your help to do so.”

“In what way?”

“If I may speak frankly and privately?”

Ms Hawksmoor clasped her hands over her notes.

“It’s clear there are some teething problems with my Sentinels to which the public cannot long be blinded,” James said. “Your publication has done sterling work in trying to get the townspeople on our side, and I should like you to continue to do so, not out of pressure from above but rather because you truly believe it.

“I’m certain a few kind words from you could help the townsfolk see past the greencoat uniforms to the people inside. Dedicated, professional individuals who only want to help the people of Port Knot, and all of Blackrabbit, really. And surely a bright young woman like yourself can see how my Sentinels are best poised to deal with not only the situation in Gull’s Reach but the wider issue of the town’s criminal gangs?” He leaned forward and flashed his warmest smile, absolutely certain he’d won Ms Hawksmoor over.