The Constant Heart (52 page)

'There's been a bit of a misunderstanding. This man says we have to do another trip straight away.'

Caddie's lips trembled. 'But I needs to make sure me boys is all right.'

The foreman curled his lip. 'I told the gaffer that he was making a mistake. Women has no place on the river. In my opinion you should be at home where you belongs.'

'No one asked for your opinion, my man. What you say is not how I understood my agreement with Mr Gilks.'

'Take it or leave it, miss. But don't expect to get paid for the trip unless you keep your end of the bargain.' The foreman turned away, shouting instructions to the men working under him. 'And move that barge if you don't want another cargo.'

'Give me a moment, please.' Rosina took Caddie aside. 'I don't like it, but I'm afraid we must do as the man says.'

'I got to go home first and see me boys. I can't leave them another night, or they'll think their ma has deserted them.'

'Go home then, and I'll see what Pip has to say. If we take another load of rubbish it will take some time for them to fill the hold. I'll come and fetch you, if needs be.'

Rosina forced herself to climb back down the steep ladder to the deck, where Pip was as busy as any housewife tidying up after a party. She put it to him that they were required to do another trip immediately. 'You've been on watch the whole time, Pip. I don't feel I can ask you to do it again without a good rest.'

'I ain't much of a one for sleeping, miss. I've enjoyed meself more in the last twenty-four hours than I have in years, and all I need is a couple of hours' snooze in the cabin while they loads the rubbish, and I'll be ready for anything.'

'Are you absolutely certain?'

'Absolutely, miss. When I was working on shore I felt like one of them slaves they tells you about in the Bible. When I'm sailing on the river, I feels like a bird, flying free with no one to tell me what to do. And,' he added, tapping the side of his crooked nose, 'I can find the way this time. I may not have much learning, but there's nothing wrong with me memory when it comes to sights and sounds. I could smell me way downriver, I tells you, even through this here poor bent beak of mine.'

With her limbs feeling like lead, Rosina hauled herself up the ladder. She went to find the foreman. 'Mr – er – foreman.'

He turned his head. 'Butcher, miss. That's me name, not me profession.'

'Tell your men to load the
Ellie May
then, Mr Butcher. We'll take the cargo, and I will sort matters out direct with Mr Gilks on our return.'

'Mr Gilks,' Rosina said, ignoring his invitation to take a seat in the chair facing his desk. She preferred to stand, keeping her head at a higher level than his and looking down on him. 'Our agreement was for one trip, not two.'

He folded his hands over his corpulent stomach, smiling in a patronising manner. 'My dear young lady, you took only a half-load, therefore it takes two trips to fulfil the agreement, unless my arithmetic is incorrect.'

'No, sir. You arithmetic is right, but your logic is wrong. You're forgetting that I am a barge captain's daughter, and although I may not be an expert when it comes to crewing a vessel, I grew up listening to bargemen's talk. You are trying to diddle me simply because I'm a woman. A man wouldn't stand for it, sir. And neither will I.'

Gilks took a small cigar from a box on the tooled red-leather top of his desk and lit it, eyeing her with a glimmer of a smile. 'Well, now. That's boldly spoken for a young woman such as yourself. But our deal still stands at half the going rate for the full load.'

'Two full loads, Mr Gilks. And I only offered the low rate on the first load. You owe me for one and a half loads.'

Gripping the cigar between his teeth in a rictus grin, he picked up a pen and dipped it in the silver inkwell. He scribbled something on a sheet of paper and held it out to her. 'You win, Miss May. Take this to the counting house and you'll receive payment.'

She took the paper from his hand, read the contents and folded it neatly. 'And will you keep the rest of the bargain? You said if I could prove myself that you would use my barge to transport your cargoes.'

'I did, didn't I?' He puffed away on his cigar, keeping her in suspense. Then he rose to his feet and held out his hand. 'Never let it be said that George Gilks don't keep his word.'

Rosina went straight to the counting house to collect their hard-earned money. It was not until she was outside the building, with a golden sovereign and four half-crowns in her hand, that she was overcome by sheer exhaustion. Somehow, they had all managed to keep going with only the minimum of sleep on the second voyage to the Medway. How Pip survived with so little rest she did not know, but they had done it, and now they were assured of regular cargoes of London's stinking rubbish. She stowed the coins in her skirt pocket. She was shockingly dirty, covered from head to foot in dust and grit. Her hair felt like tow and she wondered if she would ever feel clean again. She longed for a bath in a zinc tub with jugs of hot water to pour over her head, just as she had been used to at home. One day, she thought, as she forced her aching feet to move one in front of the other, she would have a house with a proper bathroom with an indoor lavatory, just like the one in Roland's house in Rotterdam. As she trudged towards Narrow Street, she wondered how many tons of rubbish she would have to shift before she could afford to rent a property that was half as good as her old home on Black Eagle Wharf. She was so deep in thought that she barely noticed a horseman approaching at a fast trot. It was not until he drew his steed to a halt beside her that she recognised the rider.

He leaned from the saddle, staring at her. 'Rosie? Rosina May? Is it really you beneath that mantle of dirt?'

'Harry?' Rosina peered up at him. She was so tired that it was difficult to focus her eyes, but she would have recognised that voice anywhere.

'By God, it is you.' Harry threw back his head and roared with laughter. 'You look like a blackamoor. Damn me, I never thought I'd live to see the day when pampered little Miss Fastidious looked like a chimneysweep's boy.'

'Go away, you brute. How dare you laugh at me? And whose fault is it that I am forced to earn my living in any way I can?'

'It is yours, my dear. You brought this on yourself by breaking off our engagement.'

'No, Harry. It is your fault for taking my home away from me, and for making false accusations against Walter. He is languishing in Newgate awaiting trial for a crime that he did not commit, and all because of you.'

'He is as guilty as sin, Rosie. Maybe he did not steal my mother's diamond ring, but I am certain that he was the pirate who chose to thieve from Barnum. I don't know what scores that fellow had to settle, but robbers become greedy, and it was only a matter of time before he turned his attention to our vessels.'

Shrugging her shoulders, Rosina started walking. She was too exhausted to stay and fight; she could see that it was useless anyway. Harry had his set ideas and nothing would make him change his mind.

'Rosie, wait.' Harry dismounted and followed her, leading his horse. 'I never meant you to sink so low.'

'You didn't care what happened to me. But I haven't sunk low, as you put it. I have my own business now, Harry.' She stopped, turning her head to look him in the eyes. 'There is money to be made from other people's rubbish, as you very well know. I may appear to be down at this moment, but I can assure you that I am on my way up.' She walked on.

He fell in step beside her. 'Gilks told me that he had entrusted a cargo to a slip of a girl. I had a feeling that it was you and I had to find out if it was true.'

'And your curiosity is satisfied. Now leave me alone.'

'George is a good friend of my father's. They were once partners, owning the same dust mound, but Gilks bought my father out when he decided to go into the provender business.'

'I really don't care, Harry.'

'I could put in a good word with Gilks. You could profit from my help.'

Rosina came to a halt, glaring at him. 'What? Are you feeling guilty? Look at me, Harry. I know how I must appear to you, but I am fine. Really I am. I don't need your help.'

He frowned. 'There must be something I can do to make your life easier. I am not a bad fellow, Rosie.'

'If you really and truly want to help me, Harry, go and make your peace with Sukey. Tell her the truth about the diamond ring, and have the charges dropped against Walter. I ask nothing for myself if you will do me that small service.'

'Do you care so much for the scribbling Pharisee?'

'I care about injustice. Now go on your way and leave me alone.'

'If I promise to make things right with Sukey, may I at least see you safely home?'

She did not want him to see the hovel in which they were forced to live, but she was too exhausted to argue. 'Please yourself, Harry. You always do.'

He followed her in silence. It was only a matter of minutes before they reached the wharf. Rosina stopped before they reached the boardwalk. 'You cannot bring your animal down here. I am safe now. You should go.'

Harry shook his head, tethering the horse to a lamp post. 'I said I will see you home, and I will.'

Shrugging her shoulders, Rosina trod the wooden walkway, stopping outside the shack. 'I am home.'

Harry pulled off his hat, holding it in his hands and staring incredulously at the rickety building. 'Good God! You can't live here. It's a hovel.'

Ronnie and Alfie burst out of the door, stopping when they saw Harry and clinging to Rosina's skirts. She laid her hands on their narrow shoulders. 'I'm home, boys. Go and tell Bertha that I'm here.' She shooed them back indoors, turning to Harry with a defiant toss of her head. 'This is my home now. It's humble, but it's clean and it's paid for by our hard work, me and Caddie. I see nothing to be ashamed of, so you can go away with a clear conscience. Just put things right with Sukey and then things will be even between us. Goodbye, Harry.' She turned from him and went into the shack.

George Gilks proved to be an exacting employer and the
Ellie May
was in port just long enough to be loaded and then unloaded at her destination. They worked turn and turn about, arriving back at Duke's Shore Wharf at all hours of the day and night according to the tides, and sailing again as soon as the next cargo of rubbish filled the hold. The only exception was Sunday, and on their first day off Rosina and Caddie slept on their straw-filled palliasses, oblivious to the incessant chattering of Ronnie and Alfie, or the occasional bouts of crying from Arthur. When she awakened, feeling surprisingly refreshed, Rosina dressed and took her cup of tea out onto the stoop where she could count her money uninterrupted by small boys. They were paid for each load and she divided the coins into four shares: one each for the three of them and one which she intended to save towards paying off the Gostellows' loan. Although the ship belonged to her, she could not in all conscience keep the major share, at least not yet. She was learning ship handling with every trip they made, but Pip was virtually the master of the
Ellie May
and without him she knew that they would be unable to work the vessel. She put the money back in her purse, staring ruefully at her calloused hands. The blisters had long since burst, and had eventually healed. Once these hands had been soft and white as the petals of a daisy – the hands of a lady – but now they were tanned by the sun and work-worn. She sighed and put the purse back in her reticule. At least they had food on the table now, and it was a proper table – they had chopped the old tea chest up for firewood. She had spotted the table on the pavement outside a second-hand furniture shop, and had purchased it with some of the money from her first voyage to the Medway. Bertha had gone to the same emporium and bargained hard for three wooden stools, so that now they could sit at the table like civilised human beings, instead of squatting on the floor like cannibals. Rosina smiled to herself; that was Bertha's description, not hers. If they could keep up this pace of work, it would not be long before they could afford to rent a couple of rooms in a proper house. The mere thought of a bathtub filled with hot water was like dreaming of heaven. Sometimes she wondered if she would ever be clean again. The luxurious bathroom in Roland's house seemed a million miles away. As to wearing clean linen and pretty clothes, Rosina sighed. She would have it all, one day. But Walter was still her main concern and she made up her mind to pay another visit to Septimus, to see if he had any news of the court case.