The Rise Of An English Lawbreaker Collection

Chapter 6-1

Dense clouds hid the moon while a chill breeze lifted spindrift from the Channel waves. Smith checked that his pistol was secure in his belt, and the knife sat snug against his hip. He wore dark clothing with soft-soled boots, smeared soot over his face to conceal his features, and fastened a handkerchief over his mouth and nose as a further disguise.

“Is that you, Smith?” Blackwell stood in the shadow of the ancient Saxon St Dunstan’s church, with the gravestones spreading beneath the creaking boughs of a yew tree and the square tower of the church thrusting to the darkness.

“There’s no need to broadcast my name,” Smith said.

“Dymar is here, too,” Blackwell indicated Broken-nose, who hid his features behind a black kerchief and carried a brace of pistols in his broad leather belt. A cutlass slapped his left hip with every step.

“And Skinner, I see.” Smith nodded to the other men. “I have met the other fellow but do not have the pleasure of his name.”

“Glear,” the pockmarked man said. “Mathew Glear.” He touched his hat to Smith in a gesture that irritated Blackwell.

“Smith’s only helping here,” Blackwell snarled. “I’m in charge.”

“You’ll have the wagons ready, Mr Skinner?” Smith asked.

“They’re ready.” Skinner was surly in the presence of Captain Blackwell.

Smith held Blackwell’s gaze for a long ten seconds, and then he grinned. “Let’s go and twist King George’s tail.”

The sentries stood at their posts, the younger man visibly shivering in the onshore wind, the older as immobile and stony-faced as a granite cliff.

“The older man will be a problem,” Smith said.

“I’ll take care of him.” Blackwell lifted his head.

Smith hid his smile. “I’ll quieten the other. We’ll approach from opposite sides, so we don’t appear to be together.”

“Don’t try to give me orders, cully.” Blackwell thrust a pistol into his belt and pulled his cloak closed.

“Help Captain Blackwell, Dymer,” Smith ordered. “You too, Glear. Don’t make it too obvious.”

“What will I do?” Skinner asked. He waited slightly to the rear of the others.

“You’re the wagon man,” Smith said. “I want them at the door of the King’s Warehouse in half an hour, with three minutes to load each wagon.”

“You make it sound like a military operation.”

“We’re at war,” Smith said. He did not tell Skinner who his enemy was.

The memories returned, crowding into his mind as if clamouring to be released from imprisonment inside Smith’s past. He tried to push them away, but there were too many. Even after the passage of so many years, they were as vivid as they had always been.

The nooses swayed above him, dancing in the breeze as he looked up. Beside him, his father stood with the swelling bruise on his face and his hands shackled behind his back.

The nooses swayed above him, dancing in the breeze as he looked up. Beside him, his father stood with the swelling bruise on his face and his hands shackled behind his back.“It’s a short drop,” his father said, with his voice hard. “So we’ll dance for quite some time before we die. Be brave.”

“It’s a short drop,” his father said, with his voice hard. “So we’ll dance for quite some time before we die. Be brave.”“I will,” Smith said, fighting the tears that threatened to unman him.

“I will,” Smith said, fighting the tears that threatened to unman him.“Don’t let Sir Francis see you are afraid,” his father said. “Live bold, die game, and spit in the eye of the establishment. It’s all the buggers deserve.”

“Don’t let Sir Francis see you are afraid,” his father said. “Live bold, die game, and spit in the eye of the establishment. It’s all the buggers deserve.”The cart jolted to a halt under the gallows, with the crowd surging around, some shouting encouragement, others jeering, and most merely hoping for a good spectacle, free entertainment to pass a pleasant afternoon.

The cart jolted to a halt under the gallows, with the crowd surging around, some shouting encouragement, others jeering, and most merely hoping for a good spectacle, free entertainment to pass a pleasant afternoon.Smith saw his mother near the front, hiding her tears as she watched. Between the crowd and the gallows, a line of scarlet-clad soldiers stood with fixed bayonets. A sergeant watched them, holding his halberd, while a stern-faced officer paced behind the ranks. Beyond the crowd and below Gallows Hill, the smiling fields of Kent stretched to the sea, with little villages and farmhouses a reminder that life would continue after the gallows had done its work.

Smith saw his mother near the front, hiding her tears as she watched. Between the crowd and the gallows, a line of scarlet-clad soldiers stood with fixed bayonets. A sergeant watched them, holding his halberd, while a stern-faced officer paced behind the ranks. Beyond the crowd and below Gallows Hill, the smiling fields of Kent stretched to the sea, with little villages and farmhouses a reminder that life would continue after the gallows had done its work.“Up you get, lads,” the hangman said. He helped them to their feet and placed the noose around their necks. The hemp was rough on Smith’s tender skin. His father gave him a wink.

Up you get, lads,” the hangman said. He helped them to their feet and placed the noose around their necks. The hemp was rough on Smith’s tender skin. His father gave him a wink.“You’re becoming a man before your time,” Smith’s father said. “It’s a damned shame for you.”

“You’re becoming a man before your time,” Smith’s father said. “It’s a damned shame for you.”The vicar came close to offer spiritual guidance, but Smith’s father waved him away. “Begone, you damned hypocrite. You eat at Sir Francis’s table and fornicate with his servant girls, then preach redemption and sin on a Sunday. You’re worse than any of us!”

The vicar came close to offer spiritual guidance, but Smith’s father waved him away. “Begone, you damned hypocrite. You eat at Sir Francis’s table and fornicate with his servant girls, then preach redemption and sin on a Sunday. You’re worse than any of us!”Behind the crowd, on a slight rise that formed the second hump of Gallows Hill, the local gentry sat in their carriages to watch the hangings. Sir Francis, the new landowner after his father’s death, was talking to his assistant and laughing. Smith’s father raised his voice to a bellow that had sounded above the roar of a Channel gale.

Behind the crowd, on a slight rise that formed the second hump of Gallows Hill, the local gentry sat in their carriages to watch the hangings. Sir Francis, the new landowner after his father’s death, was talking to his assistant and laughing. Smith’s father raised his voice to a bellow that had sounded above the roar of a Channel gale.“Damn your eyes, Francis Selby, you murdering, lying bastard. May you never have a moment’s peace from this day until Judgement day. I curse you in living and in dying, in eating and drinking, in waking and sleeping.”

“Damn your eyes, Francis Selby, you murdering, lying bastard. May you never have a moment’s peace from this day until Judgement day. I curse you in living and in dying, in eating and drinking, in waking and sleeping.”Sir Francis cupped a hand to his ear as if he could not hear and then gave the hangman signal. The hangman cracked his hand on the horse’s rump, and the cart jerked forward, tumbling both condemned men from their perch. Smith felt the hellish pain as the rope tightened around his neck. He knew he was kicking, dancing on air, and tried to remain still. Beside him, his father was slowly strangling, with his tongue protruding and his eyes bulging.

Sir Francis cupped a hand to his ear as if he could not hear and then gave the hangman signal. The hangman cracked his hand on the horse’s rump, and the cart jerked forward, tumbling both condemned men from their perch. Smith felt the hellish pain as the rope tightened around his neck. He knew he was kicking, dancing on air, and tried to remain still. Beside him, his father was slowly strangling, with his tongue protruding and his eyes bulging.Sir Francis shouted something that Smith did not hear, and the hangman stepped towards the gallows.

Sir Francis shouted something that Smith did not hear, and the hangman stepped towards the gallows.A moment later, Smith hit the ground like a sack of corn, choking and gagging. The soldiers cleared a path for Sir Francis, who sauntered towards him, eating an apple. The squire stood over him.

A moment later, Smith hit the ground like a sack of corn, choking and gagging. The soldiers cleared a path for Sir Francis, who sauntered towards him, eating an apple. The squire stood over him.“The king has seen fit to grant you a reprieve,” Sir Francis said. “God knows why. His Majesty has ordered you to be sent into the Navy for the remainder of your life.” He bit into his apple. “I’d have told you sooner, but I wanted to see you dance first.” He nodded as a hard-faced naval lieutenant hurried up with a squad of seamen.

“The king has seen fit to grant you a reprieve,” Sir Francis said. “God knows why. His Majesty has ordered you to be sent into the Navy for the remainder of your life.” He bit into his apple. “I’d have told you sooner, but I wanted to see you dance first.” He nodded as a hard-faced naval lieutenant hurried up with a squad of seamen.“Here’s the king’s latest bad bargain,” Sir Francis said. “He’s a truculent young rogue, so I suggest you smarten him up with a couple of dozen of the cat before you allow him on board.” He kicked at Smith’s rump. “You’ll not smuggle on my lands again, by God!”

“Here’s the king’s latest bad bargain,” Sir Francis said. “He’s a truculent young rogue, so I suggest you smarten him up with a couple of dozen of the cat before you allow him on board.” He kicked at Smith’s rump. “You’ll not smuggle on my lands again, by God!”Above Smith, his father danced on air, choking to death as he lost control of his bladder and bowels.

Above Smith, his father danced on air, choking to death as he lost control of his bladder and bowels.* * *

Smith shuddered, pushing away the memories. That had been more than ten years ago, his father was long dead, and life had altered and hardened him. Now he had a lost decade to make up and scores to settle.

Smith waited in the lee of a coasting brig, listening to the music of the wind through the rigging. He saw Blackwell make his move from the opposite side of the harbour, a tall man moving purposefully. Dymer and Glear were a hundred yards behind Blackwell, walking furtively as they kept to the shadows.

Allowing Blackwell thirty seconds to make up the extra distance he had to cover, Smith stepped away from the brig. The younger sentry was restless, shifting his feet to keep the blood flowing and moving his head to ease the pressure of the leather stock on his throat. Smith focussed his attention on the youngster, ignored Blackwell’s target, and raised a hand in greeting.