Deliverance: A Justice Belstrang Mystery by John Pilkington (top 10 most read books in the world .TXT) 📗

that I would learn anything from watching the trow unload her cargo; Russell’s readiness to let me observe the business was testimony to that. Mulling over the matter, I eventually drifted off to sleep, to be rudely awoken by the captain bawling at his men. I stirred, stiff and uncomfortable in the morning chill, and discovered that we were shrouded in mist.

Thereafter, it was a long day. The distance, I learned, was approximately seven leagues; Spry did not expect to reach the Bristol quays until nightfall. He was ill-tempered and mostly ignored me, but I will admit he was a good sailor whose men obeyed him without question. Sitting stiffly on top of the cargo, moving only rarely to stretch my legs and trying to keep out of the way, I watched the distant banks pass by and held my peace… and eventually found my eyes on Yakup the Turk, who never spoke. There was something unsettling about the man, I decided, especially given the long knife he carried at his belt. Finally he caught my eye, and a look of such brazen hostility appeared that I turned away.

By mid-day the mist had lifted, and the voyage passed without incident. We saw many vessels on the widening estuary, and were forced to tack when the wind changed, but as the sun was setting the Lady Ann made a sweep to port, and quite soon we had left the Severn and were sailing up the River Avon into Bristol. Finally Spry brought his vessel into the crowded harbour, sails were lowered and we drew alongside Broad Quay. Ropes were thrown, sailors and wharfmen exchanged shouts, and the trow was still, heaving gently at her moorings.

And Robert Belstrang, alias William Pride, stumbled ashore with a grumbling stomach, stiff legs and a feeling of relief. I am no seafarer, and resolved there and then that I would remain on land for the rest of my life… except that there was a return journey yet to be made.

Night was drawing in, and lanterns were being lit about the harbourside. I took my leave of Spry, who barely grunted a reply. When I asked about the unloading, I was told that it would likely take all of the following day, and he intended to set sail the morning after that, at first light. Having said all he would, he left me to my own devices and stalked off.

Hence, I need not dwell upon my immense satisfaction at finding a bright-lit tavern close by, where I could eat and drink to my heart’s content and, for a while at least, put aside the wearisome guise of William Pride, unscrupulous dealer in weaponry.

***

I slept late at the inn I had found, a few streets away from the harbour. The place was busy, but I was able to bespeak a stay of one further night. Having taken breakfast, I ventured out into the teeming streets and made my way down to the quayside. There were several large vessels in port, which I observed with interest. With so many people about – wharfmen and sailors, porters and tradesmen as well as a sprinkling of idlers and drabs – few paid much attention to me as I wandered among them, finally arriving beside the Lady Ann once again. Here I was surprised to see not only Spry and his crewmen, but two soldiers in royal livery, standing on the quay. Before they observed me, I thought it best to withdraw; I had no desire to answer questions. As I moved away, a reason for their presence occurred: this was, supposedly at least, a consignment of ordnance bound for the Royal Armouries. Likely the soldiers were to provide an escort, to see that it reached its destination safely.

Whereupon a notion made me stop in my tracks: the dividing of the cargo was done here, Russell had said. How, I wondered, was this carried out under the noses of the King’s guards?

I moved some distance away, and found a convenient station behind a stack of bales; there was no shortage of cover on the cluttered quayside. From here, I began to watch the unloading. In fact it had begun hours ago: there was a crane in position, lowering its hook to the deck of the trow. As Spry’s men attached ropes, I saw that several cannons had already been hefted ashore and were lying on the quay.

I set myself to wait.

An hour passed, then two; the sun was high, and I grew bored and restless. Two neat stacks of cannon now stood on the quay, one smaller than the other. Already the Lady Ann sat higher in the water, but I guessed that the hold was not even half-emptied. Stiffly I moved away from my vantage point and, perhaps somewhat incautiously, ventured closer to the vessel. I saw the crewmen at work, but there was no sign of Spry… whereupon I halted: there was no sign of the soldiers either. It was past noon… had they gone off somewhere to take dinner? Why would they leave their posts?

On a sudden, my attention was caught by the actions of three rough-clad porters, standing by one of the stacks of ordnance. There was a flat, low-sided barrow nearby, and these brawny fellows were lifting one cannon-trunk high enough to rest it there. I was curious: was this the usual practice? I had a notion that cargo was generally transferred by lighters from a small vessel to a larger ship, as I had seen on the Thames in London… but as I have said, my knowledge of such matters is limited. So I watched from a discreet distance until three cannons had been placed on the truckle, which appeared to be as much as the porters would manage. A piece of sailcloth was thrown over the load, and at once two of them gripped the handles and set off.

Whereupon, I realised, my