Read Online The Hangman's Child by Francis Selwyn - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Francis Selwyn
Tags: Mystery, Historical Novel
Ads: Link
corner. One of the foremen was carried off his feet by a rush of labourers whose names had not been called. A group of stalwart onlookers moved towards the skirmish. There was shouting, the foreman stepped free of the melee, the labourers drew back. As Verity and Samson approached, a large smiling man met them.
'What's the trouble, then, Mr Bragg?'
Bully Bragg drew the curve of a thumb down the side of his face, as if in a humorous confidence. He swaggered a little, from the width of his hips and the shortness of his legs. With dark hair piled absurdly on his head, he looked like an overweight dandy of a century past, dressed in the suiting of a sporting gentleman. He grinned at them.
'Trouble? Bit of pushing, Mr Verity. No trouble. Men keen to work. Nothing for 'em just yet, but p'raps later. Dutchman waiting off Gravesend last night for a berth. Some'll get a late shift, if it comes up on this tide. Not that it's to do with me. Bystander, same as your good self.'
Samson had walked round the far side of the group.
'Who got hit?'
There was silence.
Bragg turned back to Verity, plump hands outspread, the pale softness of his face creased in pure amiability.
'Bit of harmless pushing, Mr Verity. Little bit of impatience. 'Cos, in reason, men want to work.'
Verity led Samson away.
'It ain't the tobacco smuggling that riles me most, Mr Samson, it's the way these poor creatures are treated. Assault on the finances of the Treasury, Mr Croaker says the smuggling is! Not much of the finances of the Treasury bloody come this way! As for Bragg
'Mr Bragg got nothing to do with the 'iring,' Samson said firmly, 'just 'appened to be here, same as you and me. Don't try it on, my son. It won't work.'
Verity scowled at him.
'There's a lot of things I mean to try on, Mr Samson. Such as having a quiet word with Orator Hawkins. He never went to see Jack Rann in Newgate for his 'ealth!'
Samson groaned as they walked towards the waiting-shed, a wooden hoarding with a narrow sloping roof, running down one wall of the yard. Open to the weather along its side, it was wide enough to provide shelter overhead for a double row of wooden benches, back to back. Men not called by the foremen might wait out the day in the hope of another gang being required, its hands paid fourpence for a late shift.
"ello, Sloppy Dick,' said Samson cheerily. 'What you been doin' to yourself, then?'
The young man looked up, a round childish face on a muscular body. He was holding a bloodstained rag to his nose and there was the first colouring of a bruise on his cheekbone.
'Nothin', Mr Samson,' he said reasonably. 'Bit of a tumble. On'y in fun.'
'Well,' said Samson understandingly, 'if you was just to tell us all about this fun, p'raps it wouldn't happen again.'
The young man looked hard at him, as if he had not quite understood. Then his face cleared.
'Oh, no, Mr Samson! No! Quite definite! Nothing to say! A tumble's nothing. Not as bad as never having me name called again. I mind meself, Mr Samson, and do as told. I can't afford otherwise.'
"Course you can't,' said Samson encouragingly, 'but you might be treated more respectful if you was to tell—'
There was a rush past the two sergeants. At the opposite corner of the yard, a foreman had appeared to call an extra gang for the ship that had been off Gravesend. In the distance, the same fight for work began, the same jumping on backs, the same urgent thrusting of arms high above the crowd. This time Sloppy Dick was walking to the wharfinger's gate for his pass to work.
'Even Sloppy Dick,' Samson said. 'He'll take a noser and a black eye from Bully's men and thank them, rather than he'll say a word against 'em. And if he's told to slip a satchel of tobacco in his shirt, he'll start his nose bleeding again in his hurry to do as asked. And you still fancy Hawkins telling you how to get the noose off Rann and round Bragg instead? You ain't half got some imagination, my son.'
His duty completed, Verity
'What's the trouble, then, Mr Bragg?'
Bully Bragg drew the curve of a thumb down the side of his face, as if in a humorous confidence. He swaggered a little, from the width of his hips and the shortness of his legs. With dark hair piled absurdly on his head, he looked like an overweight dandy of a century past, dressed in the suiting of a sporting gentleman. He grinned at them.
'Trouble? Bit of pushing, Mr Verity. No trouble. Men keen to work. Nothing for 'em just yet, but p'raps later. Dutchman waiting off Gravesend last night for a berth. Some'll get a late shift, if it comes up on this tide. Not that it's to do with me. Bystander, same as your good self.'
Samson had walked round the far side of the group.
'Who got hit?'
There was silence.
Bragg turned back to Verity, plump hands outspread, the pale softness of his face creased in pure amiability.
'Bit of harmless pushing, Mr Verity. Little bit of impatience. 'Cos, in reason, men want to work.'
Verity led Samson away.
'It ain't the tobacco smuggling that riles me most, Mr Samson, it's the way these poor creatures are treated. Assault on the finances of the Treasury, Mr Croaker says the smuggling is! Not much of the finances of the Treasury bloody come this way! As for Bragg
'Mr Bragg got nothing to do with the 'iring,' Samson said firmly, 'just 'appened to be here, same as you and me. Don't try it on, my son. It won't work.'
Verity scowled at him.
'There's a lot of things I mean to try on, Mr Samson. Such as having a quiet word with Orator Hawkins. He never went to see Jack Rann in Newgate for his 'ealth!'
Samson groaned as they walked towards the waiting-shed, a wooden hoarding with a narrow sloping roof, running down one wall of the yard. Open to the weather along its side, it was wide enough to provide shelter overhead for a double row of wooden benches, back to back. Men not called by the foremen might wait out the day in the hope of another gang being required, its hands paid fourpence for a late shift.
"ello, Sloppy Dick,' said Samson cheerily. 'What you been doin' to yourself, then?'
The young man looked up, a round childish face on a muscular body. He was holding a bloodstained rag to his nose and there was the first colouring of a bruise on his cheekbone.
'Nothin', Mr Samson,' he said reasonably. 'Bit of a tumble. On'y in fun.'
'Well,' said Samson understandingly, 'if you was just to tell us all about this fun, p'raps it wouldn't happen again.'
The young man looked hard at him, as if he had not quite understood. Then his face cleared.
'Oh, no, Mr Samson! No! Quite definite! Nothing to say! A tumble's nothing. Not as bad as never having me name called again. I mind meself, Mr Samson, and do as told. I can't afford otherwise.'
"Course you can't,' said Samson encouragingly, 'but you might be treated more respectful if you was to tell—'
There was a rush past the two sergeants. At the opposite corner of the yard, a foreman had appeared to call an extra gang for the ship that had been off Gravesend. In the distance, the same fight for work began, the same jumping on backs, the same urgent thrusting of arms high above the crowd. This time Sloppy Dick was walking to the wharfinger's gate for his pass to work.
'Even Sloppy Dick,' Samson said. 'He'll take a noser and a black eye from Bully's men and thank them, rather than he'll say a word against 'em. And if he's told to slip a satchel of tobacco in his shirt, he'll start his nose bleeding again in his hurry to do as asked. And you still fancy Hawkins telling you how to get the noose off Rann and round Bragg instead? You ain't half got some imagination, my son.'
His duty completed, Verity
Similar Books
