‘If he does send a fleet we shall have to decide how to meet it. Would Willoughby fight, do you think?’ Mary sounded worried. War on the island would be disastrous.
‘I’m sure he would prefer almost anything else but there may be no choice. A landing by hostile troops would have to be met with force. Willoughby would not surrender the king’s commission without a fight.’
‘Then let’s hope that Cromwell decides we’re not worth the trouble and leaves us be.’
‘Indeed, let’s hope so. Or at least that Thomas is safely on his way home before he acts.’
The door of the inn was thrown open and a rough voice demanded rum. ‘Rum, man, and look sharp. My throat’s as dry as a nun’s cunny.’
Charles looked up sharply. ‘God’s wounds. It’s the Gibbes.’ The others followed his eyes. The Gibbes brothers, dishevelled, truculent and obscene, had planted themselves at a table at the front. Samuel threw a pile of papers on to the table, ignoring the few that fell on the floor.
‘Under the table, Thomas, quickly,’ whispered Adam.
Thomas slid off his chair and beneath the table. The others shuffled their chairs together to hide him. The Gibbes drained two glasses of dark rum and shouted for more.
‘So those are the Gibbes brothers,’ said Mary, leaning across Charles to see them. ‘I do believe the red-haired one is the most revolting man I have ever laid eyes upon. You did not exaggerate in your description, Adam.’
Thomas peeked through Adam’s legs. The Gibbes sat facing each other and were too intent upon slaking their thirst to have noticed the group at the back of the room. As both were illiterate, he wondered what the papers could be. New material for the privy, perhaps.
With each glass of rum, they became louder. ‘If you hadn’t let the little worm run off, we wouldn’t be in this mess,’ growled Samuel, thumping his fist on the table.
‘If he hadn’t tricked me and hit me from behind with a stone, I wouldn’t have.’ John was angry. Thomas smiled. He did not remember a stone.
‘We’d better find him. Tobias’ll throw us to the dogs if we don’t.’
‘Perhaps Tobias won’t come back.’
‘He’ll come for his money.’
Thomas was wondering how long he would have to stay under the table when the door opened and in walked Robert Sprot. Battered satchel over his shoulder and straw hat in his hand, he called for a mug of ale, saw the Gibbes and sat down at the table next to them.
He greeted them affably. ‘Good morning, gentlemen. What do you make of these developments?’
The Gibbes stared at him. ‘What developments, Sprot?’ asked John.
‘I refer to the arrival of Lord Willoughby.’
Samuel grunted. ‘Lord Willoughby can go and fuck himself and so can all his friends. It makes no difference to us who’s governor and who’s not. A pox on the lot of them.’
‘It seems to me that it will make a difference to Cromwell. I daresay we’ll see his fleet in the harbour before long.’ Sprot sounded delighted at the prospect. Fighting meant casualties and casualties meant business.
Samuel ignored him. He took a paper from the pile and handed it to Sprot. ‘We’re looking for this man,’ he said, ‘Thomas Hill. He’s run off.’
Sprot studied the paper. ‘Hill. Your indentured man, was he?’
‘Still is, Sprot,’ spat John, ‘and when we find him, we’ll cut off his balls and feed them to the dogs.’
Sprot looked again at the paper. ‘A hundred guineas’ reward, eh? A considerable amount for one man. Five and a half feet tall and skinny, you say. Where do you think he might be?’
‘If we knew that we wouldn’t be sitting here, Sprot,’ spluttered John.
‘No, no, indeed not. I merely wondered if I might be able to assist in your search. I could ask around while I’m about my work. I meet many people in the course of business.’
Samuel leaned over and thrust his face into Sprot’s. ‘Do that, Sprot, but don’t expect a hundred guineas unless you bring the fairy to us. And we want him alive.’
‘Oh quite, quite. A smaller amount will suffice for information regarding his whereabouts.’ He paused. ‘Shall we say twenty guineas?’
‘Ten. And only if we catch him.’
‘Ten it is. You may rely upon me, gentlemen.’
Thomas felt a nudge on his backside. ‘Stay there,’ whispered Charles, who pushed back his chair and strolled over to the Gibbes. Thomas took another peek.
‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ said Charles, ignoring Sprot. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing your discussion and I think I might be able to help.’
The Gibbes eyed him suspiciously. ‘And you’ll want our money too, Carrington, won’t you?’
‘Indeed not. We may have had our differences but I abhor runaways and my reward will be in seeing one brought to justice. As you may know, Adam Lyte’s estate was recently attacked by runaways. I happened to be there and recognized Hill among them.’
‘Did you kill him?’
‘I tried but the coward ran off. He’ll be hiding in the forest.’
‘If you’re lying, Carrington, you’ll be sorry.’ Samuel spat out the words.
‘Why would I lie? My advice is to gather a group of landowners to search the woods in St Lucy. That’s where the runaways are hiding.’ He paused. ‘In fact, why not start immediately? The square is full of men who would be willing to help. You could recruit a regiment if you look sharp.’
The Gibbes exchanged a glance. Samuel grabbed the papers and stood up. ‘Come on, brother. It’ll be better than sitting on our arses and we’ll work up a good thirst.’
‘Allow me to accompany you,’ said Charles. ‘Three heads are better than two.’
When they had gone, Adam and Mary left Thomas under the table and went over to Sprot. Thomas risked another peek. Sprot stood up when he saw them. ‘Mr Lyte, Miss Lyte, I did not see you there.’ He scratched his head thoughtfully, as if trying to remember something. Whatever it was, it did not come to mind. ‘And how is your leg, Miss Lyte? Would you care for me to examine it?’
‘What a good idea, Mr Sprot,’ she replied, ‘and how fortunate to have met you here. Let us find a suitable place outside where the light is better.’
‘A pleasure, madam.’
Adam took Mary’s arm and opened the inn door. Sprot followed them. Thomas waited two minutes, then rolled out from under the table. Ignoring the looks of the other drinkers, he walked quickly to the door and looked outside. Mary had found a wooden crate on which to sit and had positioned herself so that Sprot’s back was to the door. There was no sign of the Gibbes.
Thomas slipped out and made his way to Adam’s carriage, where he found Charles with a smug grin on his face.
‘What did you think of that, Thomas? Rather skilful, although I say it myself. I should have been an actor.’
‘I suppose I owe you my thanks, Charles, although was it necessary to call me a coward?’
‘All part of the deception, my friend. Worked well, I fancy.’ He looked about. ‘Where are Adam and Mary?’
‘Sprot is examining Mary’s leg.’
‘Good God. He hasn’t got his saw with him, has he?’
‘I doubt it will come to that. It was just a way of getting him out of the inn so that I could escape. What have you done with the Gibbes?’
Charles laughed. ‘The square was quiet so I sent them to find men in Oistins. They really do want to find you, Thomas.’
‘I know. They’re terrified of Tobias Rush, and with good reason. He’ll skin them alive if he finds out that I have escaped. Ah, here are the Lytes.’