Soul Seekers (12 page)

29

Boston Gaol

Siren Winchester hadn’t expected to be thrown into a prison. Even if she had, she wouldn’t have expected it to be anything like the hell that was Boston Gaol. She had seen television documentaries on how bad some American prisons could be, but in contrast to this they were luxury hotels.

The Hessians had brought them back into the city under cover of a musty canvass sheet in the back of a wagon, gagged and with their hands and feet bound to hide them from their redcoat masters. Siren had heard Lieutenant Du Pont pay the gaoler to keep them locked up until the following morning, when they would be taken to the docks for sale to the press gangs.

They were taken off the wagon and hurried inside the gaol, which had stone walls at least three-feet thick. The gaoler’s keys were almost as long as Emily’s arm and were used to unlock doors that led to cells at the rear of the building and a dungeon beneath it. The cell windows were open to the elements and heavily barred: the doors of heavy oak and covered in spikes of black iron. They were led by the gaoler through a dark passage to a cell and hurled inside.

To their shared horror, they were not alone in the cell. Some twenty people were huddled inside on the bare stone, many of them naked and covered in filth. Siren saw one man curled up in the corner of the cell, mumbling to himself as he picked at sores on his face. The whole cell was filled with the thick and choking smell of decay and despair.

As the gaoler pushed them inside, his heavy voice cackled tauntingly in their ears.

‘Welcome to Boston, where you’ll be sharing with pirates, Quakers, witches, and debtors. Sleep tight.’

The gaoler slammed the huge door shut behind them and they stood in the pale, cold light that leaked through the cell window as the other prisoners stared at them.

‘I want the little girl,’ said a voice from the darkness.

‘I want the little boy,’ said another.

The crowd began closing in on the three of them, and Siren stepped forward.

‘You want them?’ she challenged. ‘You come through me first.’

A cackle of laughs filled the cell as a toothless old man dressed in rags that hung off his emaciated frame reached out for her. ‘Whatever you say, lil’ missy.’

The crooked hand reached out for Siren, who grabbed it and yanked it down hard as she whipped her knee up into the man’s forearm with all of her might. The old man screeched in pain as his weakened bones snapped inside his arm and he fled across the cell cradling his wounded limb. The crowd halted, watching Siren warily.

‘What you in here for?’ asked another voice Siren from the shadows.

From somewhere behind Siren, Jude spoke up.

‘She killed twelve men with her bare hands,’ he uttered, ‘then ate them. She’s insane, totally out of control. Don’t go near her.’

The crowd began to back away into the shadows, mumbling to themselves and casting nervous glances at Siren. Siren turned and whispered to Jude. ‘I
ate
them?’

Jude shrugged. ‘What the hell, it worked didn’t it?’

Emily grabbed Siren by her collar. ‘We need to get out of here.’

‘You think?’ Siren uttered in reply. ‘And there was me liking it here and all.’

‘We’re running out of time,’ Jude said. ‘Tomorrow morning this is all over.’

Siren glanced at the fading light between the bars of the cell. The sun would go down soon, plunging their miserable existence into pitch blackness for the entire night. She wasn’t so much worried about the following day as she was their chances of surviving the night.

‘We’ve got to hope that Cas and his dad can do something,’ Emily said.

‘Cas’s long gone,’ Siren whispered harshly. ‘He knows that he can’t wait for us.’

‘He wouldn’t leave,’ Emily pleaded with her.

‘We can’t know that for sure,’ Jude pointed out. ‘We were the ones who got caught, remember, outside the city. We never saw Cas’. Maybe he didn’t make it out either. He could have been caught before he got away from the docks, might even be somewhere else in this gaol.’

‘Jude’s right,’ Siren decided.

‘I am?’ Jude asked in amazement.

‘Cas’s best plan, if he got away from Boston, is to try to head home,’ Siren said. ‘It’s what we should try to do too.’

Emily looked horrified. ‘You want to leave without him?’

‘We just don’t know anything about what happened to Joshua or Cas’,’ Siren insisted. ‘We can’t do anything for him and he can’t do anything for us. Our best plan is to make our way to Lincoln and hope that he makes it back there too.’

Emily stood resolute before Siren and shook her head. ‘That would be betrayal and I won’t be any part of it.’

Jude stood up too but he looked apologetic. ‘I’m sorry Emily but there’s no alternative. We get out now or we’re stuck here for the rest of our lives.’

‘You’d leave him here,’ Emily gasped at Jude. ‘After all he’s done for us?’

‘He put us here,’ Jude snapped. ‘Made us follow him down that damned ventilation shaft. If I’ve got to spend the rest of my life in regret, I’d rather do it in my own time than rotting like a piece of garbage in here.’

Emily stared at him in horror but Siren could see in her expression that she had no solid argument against them. And Siren knew that Emily would not want to be left alone here in 1776 either, especially not in a gaol.

‘It’s agreed then,’ Siren said. ‘We leave, tonight.’

Emily’s face turned ashen as she looked past Siren into the shadowy cell. ‘We’d better go quicker than that.’

The crowd was advancing on them, emboldened by numbers. A cackling, guttural laughter began to fill the cell as they surged forwards and crowded Emily, Jude and Siren back toward the cell door.

‘Come here, little children,’ a gnarled old man whispered, his yellowing teeth parting to spill bad breath in their direction. ‘Let’s play.’

‘Siren,’ Jude uttered, ‘eat them.’

Siren looked at him blankly as the crowd continued to advance.

A hand reached out and grabbed at Emily’s dress. She screamed, and the scream was joined by another as Siren leapt forward and bit down on the hand. The man lurched backwards and away from then pain as Siren whipped off her leather belt and swung it like a whip at the nearest face.

An old woman’s brittle jaw bones clicked as the belt’s heavy buckle cracked across her cheek and she tumbled to her bony knees.

‘We’re outnumbered,’ Jude whispered harshly.

Siren stared at the oncoming crowd, and then, quite suddenly, she lowered the belt.

‘What are you doing?’ Emily gasped in horror.

‘Like Jude says,’ Siren murmured back at her without fear. ‘There’s too many of ’em.’

* * *

30

The night was pitch-black as Cas rode in the saddle on Captain Mitchell’s horse.

They were being escorted by half a dozen cavalrymen, but their guards were a mere precaution: Washington’s colonial forces now held most of the mainland, with snipers only a threat when close to the Boston neck.

The city lights twinkled across the water as they rode through Roxbury, but they looked to Cas like those of a small village and not the sprawling city he knew so well. Out in the harbour, lanterns hung from the rigging of tall ships, faintly illuminating their furled sails and towering masts.

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

Captain Mitchell’s voice sounded loud in the silence of the night. Cas nodded. ‘I owe it to them to try,’ he replied.

‘You’re a noble soul for one so young,’ Mitchell said. ‘Not what I expected of a spy.’

‘We do what we have to,’ Cas replied. ‘What we ought to.’

‘Ain’t that so?’

They rode until they neared the picket lines south of the city, and Cas was lifted by Mitchell from the saddle onto the hard, cold earth. Mitchell handed down a bag of coin, sixty shillings inside.

‘Keep that out of sight,’ the captain warned him. ‘There are plenty of people in Boston who would cut your throat for half that amount.’

Cas nodded and tucked the bag under his jacket. ‘Tell the pickets here to let me through when I return, and anybody with me.’

Captain Mitchell nodded and flipped Cas a brief salute. ‘Good luck.’

Cas watched as the horses rode away into the night, and then he turned and began walking up the road toward the city. Within a few minutes he had reached the redcoat sentries guarding the gates.

‘Halt! Who goes there?’

‘Casimir Ryan,’ Cas called back, ‘with a message for Lieutenant Du Pont, Liebregiment.’

The sentries fussed among themselves for a few minutes as a message was sent into the city, and then the foot gate opened and Cas stepped through.

A Hessian soldier awaited him, holding a lantern aloft. His expression changed from curiosity to surprise as he saw Cas standing before him. Then he turned and beckoned Cas to follow him.

The redcoat army was still camped across the common, endless rows of tents glowing in the flickering light of hundreds of camp fires. With the city under siege Cas guessed that soon they would begin to run short of firewood – the supply ships would only be carrying things like food and ammunition to relieve the beleaguered forces captive within the city. With the winter deepening it would only be a matter of time before disease, starvation and low morale began to break the army down.

The Hessian soldier led him past the army camp to the Powder House, alongside which were several low shacks that Cas guessed housed the Hessian officer’s mess and living quarters. Most of the British officers would be living in houses in the city rather than these meagre accommodations, leaving them instead to the mercenary forces hired to assist the Crown in defending her territory.

Won’t do you much good
, Cas thought but did not say.

The Hessian soldier opened the door to one of the shacks, a bright rectangle of light spilling out into the cold night, and waved Cas inside. Cas stepped up nervously into the shack, instantly hitting a wall of heat and thick pipe smoke swirling in clouds across the ceiling.

The building was stacked with bunks at the far end, and between Cas and the bunks was a large, uneven oak table covered with tankards and game dice. Sitting around it were several Hessian officers and at their head, Du Pont.

Du Pont stood up and slammed his tankard down on the table. ‘You found the little tyke!’ he roared.

‘Actually, he found us,’ Cas’s escort said.

Du Pont looked down at Cas curiously.

‘I want to make a deal for my friends,’ Cas said.

Du Pont sneered at him. ‘A
deal
? What kind of deal?’

‘You’re selling them to the press gangs for twenty shillings each,’ Cas said. ‘I’ll pay you the same. In return, you set them free.’

Du Pont stared at Cas as though he was out of his mind. ‘Where in God’s name would you get sixty shillings from?’

Cas reached under his jacket and tossed a canvass bag onto the table. It landed with a loud clunk of coins. Instantly, the Hessians all grabbed for the bag. Du Pont reached down, grabbed his cane and whipped it across the table with a crack like a gunshot. His officers snatched their hands away in surprise as Du Pont opened the bag and emptied it onto the table in front of him.

‘This is only thirty shillings,’ he growled at Cas.

‘A good will gesture,’ Cas replied. ‘You get half now and the rest once my friends are freed.’

Du Pont considered Cas’s proposal for a long moment and then raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ve nerves of iron for one so young,’ he observed. ‘A deal it is!’

Cas watched as Du Pont swept the coins off the table and back into the bag, then handed it to his aide de camp. ‘Watch after this money,’ Du Pont warned, then turned to Cas. ‘Come, my enterprising young friend. I will take you to the prisoners this very instant.’

Cas felt a flood of relief as the officer grabbed his greatcoat from a hook near the door, looking down at Cas as he slipped the coat over his shoulders. ‘Pray tell, where is the rest of the money?’

Cas offered the lieutenant a brittle smile. ‘Safe.’

Du Pont laughed as he led Cas out into the night and slapped a hand down across his shoulder.

‘You’ll go far, boy. What is your name?’

‘Casimir,’ he replied. ‘It’s Polish for “heralding peace”.’

‘I’m sure it is, Cas.’

They walked through the city, passing taverns and tanneries, blacksmiths and houses, until they reached a forbidding looking building that loomed up into the night sky. The walls were of heavy, thick grey stone as bleak as the winter itself. A thin layer of snow coated the ground outside the building as they approached the main gate.

‘This is the gaol,’ Du Pont informed him, ‘where the prisoners are being held.’

‘They’re in
here
?’ Cas said in horror.

Du Pont rapped his knuckles on a huge wooden door studded with iron, and moments later a greasy looking fat man with huge boils on his chubby face peered suspiciously through a hatch in the door.

‘Open up,’ Du Pont ordered, rapping the door with his cane. ‘I have trade for you.’

* * *

31

The cries of alarm rang out through the dark, sinister passages of the gaol just loud enough to attract the attention of the guard. Normally, he would not have worried himself about them. Half of the inmates had been driven insane by years of incarceration, poor food and lack of sunlight. Some, it was said, had not breathed fresh air nor seen the sun for ten years or more. Others frequently cried out when being beaten for their meagre food rations, or worse.

But this time it was different. The cries were those of the children, and they were worth money.

He wearily got up from his stool and marched down the passage toward the dungeon where the prisoners were being held.

The gaol keeper had been very specific: the children were not to be harmed. Worse, they were not allowed to harm each other, for if any of them died the gaol keeper would be taking it out of the guard’s pay.

The guard reached the thick door of the cell and peered inside.

In the centre of the cell lay a body, sprawled across the filthy stone floor and with blood trickling from its forehead. With a shock of recognition the guard realised that it was the little blonde girl, the one in the dress who was worth the most money. In her hand was a small, grubby beaker, one of the ones used to serve water to the prisoners.

He grabbed the huge door key from the wall nearby and shoved it into the lock, turned it, then drew both his knife and a pistol before he yanked the cell door open and stepped inside.

‘What happened?’ he roared at the prisoners cowering in the cell.

‘She stole my water,’ someone spat.

The guard raised his knife and pistol so that the prisoners could see them and would not attempt to attack him, then lowered himself onto one knee over the body as he reached out to find a pulse in the girl’s neck.

The girl’s eyes flicked open and the hand with the beaker whipped up to the guard’s face with a foul smelling fluid that blinded him and sent bolts of pain across his eyes.

The guard yelled out and propelled himself backward and away from the girl, toward the cell door as he waved the pistol and knife wildly about him.

Something shoved itself behind his right foot as he stumbled backward and with a cry of terror he felt himself topple over. He hit the stone floor hard, half in and half out of the cell, with his own body preventing him from closing the cell door. In desperation, he raised his pistol and fired blindly into the cell. The deafening gunshot blasted out with a flash of light and a cloud of cordite smoke. A man screamed in pain and clasped his stomach as he collapsed to the floor.

With a chorus of shrieks every prisoner in the cell charged for the open door, their bare feet trampling the fallen guard’s body and pummelling it into silence as they thundered up the passageway toward the dungeon’s exit.

The guard, barely conscious, saw a fearsome looking girl with dark skin reach down and pull his knife from his hand before vanishing from sight.

*

‘What kind of trade?’ the gaol keeper asked.

Cas stood in the passageway as Lieutenant Du Pont gestured down at him.

‘This young man would like to purchase the three children we brought here this afternoon.’

The greasy, ugly gaoler looked down at Cas. ‘Would he now?’

‘He has offered a princely sum and I have accepted,’ Du Pont said and looked down at Cas. ‘The rest of the money please, Cas.’

Cas reached under his shirt, and produced another small pouch with the rest of the coin inside. He handed it to Du Pont, who smiled and tucked it into a pocket on his uniform. Then he turned to the gaoler.

‘Take him to his friends and toss him into the cell with them.’

It took Cas a few moments to register what Du Pont had said. The gaol keeper grinned a dirty, tooth-stained grin as he grabbed Cas’s arm in a vice-like grip.

‘We had a deal!’ Cas wailed.

‘Indeed we did,’ Du Pont agreed. ‘However, I will still sell you all to the press gangs and make more money than I would have done without your generous offer.’ The lieutenant smiled cruelly. ‘A pleasure doing business with you, Cas.’

Du Pont turned, just in time to hear a gunshot echo through the gaol.

Cas flinched at the sound and then felt a creeping terror crawl like insects across his skin as an unearthly scream soared through the gaol, as though all the demons of Hell had escaped at once and were rushing up to the surface.

Lieutenant Du Pont turned as the gaol keeper yelled at him. ‘Secure the main gate!’

Du Pont glanced at the stairs to the dungeon as the chorus of cries and shrieks grew louder, and then at the gaol keeper. ‘Throw me the gate key!’ he shouted urgently.

The gaol keeper yanked a huge key from his jacket and hurled it at Du Pont. The lieutenant hurried to the main gate, then opened it and stepped outside.

‘Adieu, mon dieu,’ he said.

‘No!’ the gaol keeper yelled in horror. ‘Secure it from the
inside
!’

Du Pont smiled as he slipped away and slammed the huge gates shut. Cas heard the big key turn in the lock, and then the sound was drowned out by a hundred screams as the prisoners rushed up the stairs and burst into the passageway like a dirty human flood.

* * *