Read Online The Turtle Run by Marie Evelyn - Free Book Online Page B

given her one surname to look out for – Pitcher – and Becky soon found a Daniel Pitcher listed as being dispatched in December 1685 on the ship Betty from Weymouth. She soon realised why Clara, or more likely Matthew, had been reluctant for her to carry out this research: Daniel Pitcher’s new ‘Master’ on the island was a William Darnley.
    So Ian’s tiresome ‘slave’ prank hadn’t been so far off the mark after all. Becky sat back in her chair and tried to think how the Barbados venture would work. If the plan was to follow the fates of certain rebels on the island, it would be ridiculous to omit the names of the plantations they were assigned to and the men they were indentured to. But would Clara feel compromised by what they discovered? Surely she couldn’t expect an account of the rebels’ new lives to sweep over such details?
    Becky ran her finger down the rest of the list of the men transported with Pitcher on the Betty . One unusual surname leapt out: Thomas Gehalgod. At the bottom of the list was a paragraph:
    The Bille of mortallity of the said Rebells that dyed since they were reced on Board and were thrown overboard out of the said Ship were …
    There followed three names, one of which was Thomas Gehalgod. Becky shivered. Would it have been better to be hanged than left in a ship’s hold with untreated wounds and then thrown overboard with, presumably, little ceremony?
    At least Thomas Gehalgod hadn’t had to work for William Darnley, whom Becky instinctively felt would have been as mercenary as his descendent. Maybe that was the only positive aspect to dying at sea.
    She had paid five pounds for a photograph licence but found the camera on her new phone wasn’t really up to capturing the information. She sorely missed the smartphone she had had at the Essex Gleaner . She took the book to the helpdesk to find out if they could photograph the pages for her.
    â€˜We could,’ said the woman on the desk. ‘But you know this book is online, don’t you? You could access it anywhere.’
    Becky groaned. She could have done the research at home after all. It had been a wasted trip and a waste of Clara’s money. God knows what Matthew would have to say if he found out.
    â€˜Since you’re here you should visit the key places,’ said the woman, ‘the battlefield itself and the church at Westonzoyland.’
    â€˜The church?’
    â€˜St Mary’s. It’s where King James’s men locked up the injured rebels – left them there with festering wounds overnight. The church had to be fumigated with frankincense afterwards.’
    â€˜Oh,’ said Becky, unsure how to react to this generously dispensed information. ‘Thank you. I might do that.’
    But she knew she wouldn’t. It would mean finding a taxi and spending even more of Clara’s money being driven round the sights. If only she could drive; if only she had a car.
    She went back to where she had been sitting to pick up her things and realised her phone was vibrating. It was Joe’s number.
    â€˜Just a second,’ she said. She retrieved her rucksack, nodded thanks to the woman on the helpdesk, and walked out.
    â€˜Is everything all right?’ she asked once outside the centre. Joe never rang her when he was at work.
    â€˜Fine. Just wondered how you were getting on.’
    â€˜So-so,’ said Becky, touched he would bother to ring but unsure how much of her disappointment to share.
    â€˜That doesn’t sound good. What’s wrong?’
    â€˜You remember I said Clara’s son doesn’t want me to write the book?’
    â€˜No, you said he didn’t think you were serious about it.’
    â€˜OK, I think it’s more than that. I’ll explain tomorrow when I’m back.’
    â€˜Explain now,’ he said and hung up.
    Becky stared at her phone, baffled, then turned as she heard the roar of a