As the men sang lustily and Matt held her close, Roxton threw off Sergeant Collins’ hindering hand and strode towards them. The naval officer who had confronted him the previous evening, and had been watching the marriage ceremony also hurried forward.
‘What news Mr Roxton?’ he called cheerily before he could reach the wedding party. ‘Are you to have him after all, or shall the King keep him?’
Roxton’s face was livid. He shook an angry fist. ‘I’ve waited for years to catch that felon! He deserves to go to gaol!’
‘Oh, come now, Roxton.’ The lieutenant admonished him. ‘You know as well as I do, that life on board one of His Majesty’s ships is as fitting a gaol as those on land, especially for a pressed man. There’ll be no luxuries on board for him.’
‘I wanted the satisfaction of taking him to the courthouse myself and hearing the door of the gaol clang behind him.’ Roxton’s voice was hostile and resentful.
The officer laughed. ‘Well, you can wave goodbye from the quayside for we can be off now, and not a half hour too soon for we’ll miss the tide if we delay any longer.’ He turned to another officer. ‘Muster the men, and stand by. Tell the army we are ready to sail.’
The quayside bustled with activity as naval men and soldiers obeyed the commands.
‘I didn’t realize that the soldiers were going too,’ Annie said. ‘I wondered why there were so many of them here.’
‘Most of them won’t come back,’ Matt answered grimly. ‘It’s hard enough being a sailor, far worse to be a soldier.’
He looked down at her and wound a strand of fair hair which had escaped from the coil at the back of her neck, around his finger. ‘You’re a real lady, Annie. The only one I could have wished for to be the mother of my son. Go now, and don’t look back. God willing I’ll come back to you.’
She clung to him not wanting this moment to end; he kissed her and pushed her away. ‘Go,’ he said. ‘Don’t make it any harder for me to bear.’
She kissed him once more and brought Henry near that he also might kiss his father. Holding back her tears she shook hands with Parson White and some of the other men who were standing near, their faces wracked with emotion. Then she turned again to kiss Matt a final goodbye.
‘Don’t look back,’ he whispered. ‘Just go.’
She turned and holding tight to Henry’s hand, walked away.
‘Mrs Hope!’
Instantly at the sound of her name, she turned around. Matt was smiling at her, his eyes creased with pain.
‘Mrs Linton!’ she exclaimed through her tears. ‘My name is Annie Linton.’
‘I love you, Mrs Linton.’
Before she could reply, Henry tore out of her hand and ran back towards Matt. ‘If you’re my father now, do I have a grandfayther like James?’
Matt gave a small exclamation, something between a gasp and a sob, and crouched down to be on the same level as the child. ‘Indeed you do, young Henry.’ He kissed the boy and sent him back to his mother.
‘Annie!’ He called urgently. ‘Take him to my father.’ He made to step towards her but the impeding hand of a navy man stopped him.
‘Your father!’ How could she? How could she take Henry to the man who had rejected his own sons. How could she confess that the poor hawker and the Dutch widow and the wife of his eldest son, were one and the same?
‘Take him,’ he called as he was pushed into line ready to embark the ship flying the royal ensign. ‘He likes you. Take him and tell him, and wait for me there. Take him to his grandfather – Henry Linton!’
She walked slowly back towards the Cross Keys, holding Henry tightly by the hand. She felt the sun warm on her face and remembered once before when she had walked from the same quayside on such a day as this, when she had been told that her husband, Alan Swinburn, had been killed on board the whaler The Polar Star. Then, though she had cried and wailed, she had felt no emotion for the dead man, no sorrow, only terror that she would have to fend for her children and herself without a man to support them.
But now, she knew that she could support herself and Henry. She had become self-reliant, had grown in stature and had a better opinion of herself than she once had. But, she thought sadly, it means nothing. I want only Matt. I can’t bear to think that I might never hold him in my arms again, never hear his laugh or kiss his lips. I’ve been without him these long years and now that I’ve found him again, the pain is harder to bear than ever.
Henry tugged her hand. ‘Mamma?’
She smiled a weak smile. But I have his son. I’ll watch him grow in his likeness. While I have him, I have Matt.
‘Mamma.’ Henry’s voice was persistent and he wrinkled his small nose in distaste. ‘What’s that smell?’
She hadn’t noticed. It was inherent in the town and so familiar that she hadn’t realized its presence. The smell of boiling blubber which brought industry to the town.
‘It’s blubber,’ she said, ‘from the whale. It’s what keeps this town alive and prosperous.’
They passed a group of women and children. They were neither prosperous nor hardly alive she thought, looking at their pinched faces and tattered clothing. She kept her head down so that her hat shielded her face, in fear that any one of them might recognize her, and in humility that she had escaped from the poverty and servitude which held them down.
How grateful I should be, she thought. For even though Matt is bound to a ship which might take him away for ever, I have the knowledge of his love; I have his son, I have work and a roof over our heads. What more could I ask?
What more? Yet, still something more.
She called to the landlord as she waited for the hired mount to be saddled. ‘Do you know of a family by the name of Foster?’
He would know. He knew everyone in this town and Will Foster was well known. Everyone knew Will and had been shocked at his injuries sustained on the same voyage that had killed Alan.
Caution veiled his face. ‘Foster?’ He pursed his lips. ‘Can’t think of any travellers of that name.’
‘No, no, not visitors. They live in the town, or they did.’
He shook his head. ‘Folks’ is moving out of’town; gentry and trade. Grand houses are being built out Hessle and Ferriby way.’
He was evading her questions. If I should speak as I used to and say, ‘Come on Jack, tha can tell me. Where have ‘Fosters and my bairns gone?’ Then he would tell me, but not now; not in case this fine lady means them mischief.
They looked after their own, the people of Hull, and she realized now why there had been no pounding of the feet of the law chasing her when Francis Morton had died. If questions had been asked about her, a wall of impenetrable silence would have descended, impossible to scale.
But now she had crossed to the other side. The landlord would know that she wasn’t gentry, he might even find it difficult to know where to place her, but all the more reason for the hedging of answers. Until he knew that she meant the Fosters’ no harm, he would give her no satisfactory answer.
The groom, in a canvas smock covering his coat and breeches, came to tell her that the mount was groomed and ready. She paid the landlord and thanked him for his hospitality. ‘I shall come back, one day,’ she said. ‘Perhaps then you might be able to tell me of the Fosters. It’s important to me.’
He narrowed his eyes and viewed her quizically and she knew that first he would make his own discreet enquiries.
‘Take care on ’road, ma’am. I hear that a man’s escaped from a navy ship. He’ll be desperate. I’m not saying he’d harm thee, but he might want ’hoss. Dost tha carry a firearm?’
She stared dumbstruck. ‘A man? A seaman, do you mean?’ Wild delight ran through her and she felt her cheeks grow hot, then cold as she thought of the consequences. If he was caught, he’d be hanged.
‘Is tha not well, ma’am?’ The landlord pushed a stool towards her. ‘Better sit down for a minute.’
She sank down and Henry came and held her hand and watched her anxiously.
‘A seaman, did you say?’ she whispered. ‘One of the pressed men?’
‘No. I didn’t say that.’ He gazed at her as if to remember her face. ‘A soldier. Didn’t fancy a sail on one of His Majesty’s ships apparently, and I can’t say I blame him. It wouldn’t be anybody that you would know, ma’am, not an officer, just a common soldier.’
She closed her eyes and shook her head. ‘No. For a moment I thought – but no, I know no soldiers.’
‘Look at the ships, Mamma. Look at the ships.’
The Humber was thick with ships, schooners and brigantines, sloops and commercial boats, plying their way towards Hessle and the towns beyond the Trent.
The river was choppy, the tide full. The waves surged and swelled, and they watched from the high cliffs near Hessle as one of the ferry boats battled its way towards the Lincolnshire coast, tossing and plunging as the billowing body of water made sport of its shaking timbers.
We’ll go to the Trotts first, she decided as she urged the horse forward. They can meet Henry. Then we’ll go to see Robin and put forward the suggestion. I’ll not go to Toby’s cottage. She stifled a sob as she cantered past the track which led there. The door can stay locked on those memories. The memory of two loving brothers.
‘Yes?’ Mrs Trott answered the door and Annie felt as if she was reliving time. Except that Mrs Trott’s grim expression changed to disbelief when she saw who it was.
‘Who is it, Mrs Trott?’
Annie smiled as she heard Henry Trott call. ‘Not a beggar,’ she called back. ‘Just somebody down on her luck.’
He came to the door and Mrs Trott stood back, her eyes fixed on the child.
‘Bye. I’m glad to see thee, Mrs Hope. We’ve been that worried. Talked often of thee, haven’t we, Mrs Trott? Captain Linton’s searched high and low. Come in, come in. We’ll have to get a message to him.’
Mrs Trott said not a word, but stared at Henry as he clung to Annie’s cloak.
‘And who’s is bairn?’ he asked as he noticed Henry hiding behind her.
‘Can’t tha see whose bairn it is?’ Mrs Trott’s voice broke in. ‘Can’t tha see?’ She put her hands to her face and started to weep.
‘Mrs Trott? What is it?’ Annie put her hand on the old woman’s arm.
‘Daft beggar that he is, hasn’t got eyes in his head.’ Mrs Trott wiped her nose on her clean apron. ‘Anybody can see who he belongs to.’
Henry Trott looked bewildered. ‘I suppose he’s thine, Mrs Hope? I’m not much good at seeing likeness in babbies.’
Mrs Trott gave a great sigh and leaned forward to draw Henry towards her. He resisted for a moment and looked up at Annie, but she nodded reassuringly and he went towards the old lady.
‘He’s a Linton all right, he’s got his father’s eyes and his grandmother’s hair.’ She stroked the boy’s head. ‘She had beautiful hair, your grandmother.’ Her mouth trembled, ‘and a face like an angel.’
Annie smiled to herself. No matter that she too had fair hair and blue eyes. She would let it pass. If it pleased Mrs Trott to attribute all Henry’s beauty to the Lintons, she wasn’t going to complain.
She told them of finding Matt and of him being pressed into the navy. She didn’t mention Roxton for she thought that Mr Trott would still be unaware of the smuggling.
‘We were married before he sailed,’ she said. ‘I’m Mrs Linton now.’
‘Married!’ Mrs Trott’s mouth dropped open. ‘He married thee!’
Annie took no offence. She felt she knew Mrs Trott well enough now. The old woman had never liked her, but it didn’t matter any more.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He wanted to give Henry his name before he went away.’
‘Henry?’ Mrs Trott repeated.
‘That’s what Mrs Hope – Mrs Linton said, you silly old woman.’ Mr Trott displayed an impatience Annie hadn’t seen before. ‘Don’t keep repeating everything she says!’
‘Henry!’ Mrs Trott ignored the old man. ‘Called after the squire I expect?’ She gave a short laugh. ‘Well I doubt that old scoundrel will accept either of thee, in spite of it.’
‘No,’ Annie faced her. ‘That wasn’t why. I didn’t know that Squire Linton’s name was Henry. I named him after Mr Trott.’ She looked fondly at Henry Trott. ‘You taught me that there were some kind men in the world and I met several more after you. But you were the first, you took me into your home and fed me and gave me shelter, and so I gave my son your name.’
Henry Trott blew his nose and then thanked her. ‘I’m honoured, Mrs Linton, and very proud. Proud to have your son and grandson of Squire Linton named after me. I’ll live with that in my heart for ’rest of me days.’
She went then to see Robin, he was out, his sister said, but she was welcome to come in and wait, she was sure he would be back for supper. The house was neat and seemed to be more comfortable than it had been. She was offered tea.
‘Is Robin in work?’ she asked as she sipped the tea.
‘Aye, he is. He sells cloth in ’summer and goes in ’quarries in winter if he’s hard pressed for money. Then he’s been in Captain Linton’s pay, until recent. He’s been good to him ’as Captain Linton. I thought as how Robin might get ideas above his station, but he never. He’s allus been a good lad, our Robin.’
Annie didn’t quite follow but asked no further questions. Robin would no doubt tell her all when he put in an appearance.
‘And your other brother, Josh?’
‘Still in quarry. Works all hours God sends. He looks after his wife’s sister as best he can, as well as his own; her husband died in gaol; he had a nasty accident after he was imprisoned for being with them smugglers.’ She pulled her shawl closer around her and though the room was warm and stuffy, Annie too shivered.
‘Aye,’ the woman said softly. ‘It’s folks like us that allus gets caught. Never ’nobs.’
‘Sometimes they do,’ Annie whispered. ‘Sometimes.’
It was getting dark as Robin returned and after greeting her with enthusiasm and some amazement at being presented to Henry, he forgot himself enough to give her a smacking kiss on her cheek.
Then he suddenly said. ‘I’ll have to get a message to Captain Linton. I promised I would.’
‘Robin?’ Annie queried. ‘There’s something different about you.’
‘Aye,’ he said grinning all over his face. ‘Bye heck there is.’
‘Come with me to the Admiral Hawke,’ she said suddenly. ‘I’ll need to get a room for the night for Henry and me. It’s too late to go back into Hull, and we’ve a lot of talking to do.’
They uncoupled the reins of the hired mount from the hitching rail and while Henry rode on its back, Robin and Annie walked by the side and talked and talked.
‘So the Captain’s been pressed? Well, he’s better at sea than rotting in gaol. Roxton would have had him sooner or later, aye and Josh. That’s all over and done with now, I hope.’
‘Did you always know, Robin? About the smuggling?’
He nodded. ‘Aye. I wasn’t so dim that I didn’t know what was going on. But I just didn’t want to be involved; somebody has to make a stand about what they think is right.’
She gazed admiringly at the young man who had emerged from boyhood with his ideals still intact. She’d been right. He was just the person they needed at Sampson’s Drapery.
She booked in at the inn and after giving Henry his supper, put him to bed and joined Robin downstairs in the small dark snug where she had once persuaded Mr Moses to let her have cloth to sell.
‘I met up with Moses again,’ Robin said as if reading her thoughts. ‘I came across him when I was searching for thee. You, I mean! Sometimes I forget,’ he laughed. ‘Though I always use my own voice when I’m up on ’Wolds.’
‘When I’m alone I often think in my own voice, though not always, as I once did.’ She studied him questioningly. ‘When you’re on the Wolds, do you see Rose?’ she asked.
He blushed. ‘Sometimes. Sometimes I stay there when I’m travelling, but her sisters watch her all the time. They know, I think, how I feel about her.’
‘How do you feel, Robin? Dare I ask?’
‘I don’t mind telling thee, Annie.’ He fidgeted in his seat and looked down at his feet. He was wearing, she noticed, a finer pair of stockings than the knitted ones he used to wear and his short leather boots were new. And though he was wearing the same coat as he previously wore, which was now shiny and rather short in the sleeve, his flannel shirt was good and hard-wearing, as were his brown breeches.
‘I’d like to wed her one day. But I’ve nowt to offer her yet. I can make money in ’summer when I can get out to sell cloth, but I know her fayther wouldn’t let her go unless I was in regular work. He’s not short of brass himself so he won’t let her go to a pauper.’
Annie’s smile went from ear to ear. Now she had an extra cherry to offer Robin.
‘Well, Mr Deane,’ she said solemnly. ‘How would you like to become a draper in York, and take your wife, Rose, with you?’