Edward Marston - The Counterfeit Crank

Tensing himself, he waited for the loud report as the musket was fired but the trigger was never pulled. Instead, a familiar voice reverberated around the courtyard as a trained actor opened his lungs to the full.

‘Where are you, Nick!’ shouted Owen Elias.

Nicholas looked down and saw uniformed men, coming into the courtyard with torches. Their sudden arrival had made the keeper with the musket hold his fire. The man did not dare to shoot while officers of the law were watching from below. Nicholas sat on the apex of the roof.

‘Is that you, Owen?’ he called. ‘I’m up here.’

‘ Diu !’ exclaimed his friend, looking up. ‘What are you doing on the roof?’

Nicholas laughed with relief. ‘Waiting for you to come,’ he said.

‘Joseph Beechcroft has been arrested, and we have a warrant to search Bridewell and take his partner into custody. Where would we find Ralph Olgrave?’

‘Down there!’

Nicholas pointed at the man but Olgrave did not wait to be apprehended. Pushing aside the guests who stood in his way, he darted into the hall and slammed the door shut before locking it from the inside. Some of the officers ran to the door but their concerted strength could not force it open. Nicholas remained where he was. He knew that Olgrave would understand the folly of staying on the premises when a warrant for his arrest had been issued. The man would surely bolt. Soon afterwards, he saw a figure rush out of a rear door and make for the wharf. Olgrave was hoping to escape by boat.

Nicholas was off at once. Balancing on the roof tiles, he walked along them for several yards. Then he sat down and slid on his backside until he reached the gable window through which the keeper with the musket had climbed. He took a grip, swung down into the room then sprinted through the door. Descending the stairs at speed, he went along a passageway and tried every door to the rooms facing the Fleet River. When one finally opened, he found himself in a storeroom and he felt his way across to the window. He was through it in seconds and dropped to the ground.

Olgrave was a blob in the darkness, rowing frantically down river. Nicholas ran to the wharf and jumped into another boat that was moored there. Using an oar to push himself away from the bank, he gave chase. Olgrave heaved on the oars with all his energy but he was no sailor. The boat zigzagged its way crazily through the water. Behind him, Nicholas settled into a steady rhythm. Using the power of his thighs as much as the strength of his arms, he was soon rowing in a relatively straight line. While Olgrave splashed his way along, Nicholas made sure that the blades of his oars entered the water cleanly at the right angle to give him maximum thrust. He soon began to gain on the other man.

Helped by the current, Olgrave contrived to maintain a reasonable speed. He believed that, by the time that the officers had broken into the hall and searched that part of the building, he would be well out of their reach. But he had reckoned without the man on the roof, who had witnessed his flight. A shape slowly emerged out of the gloom behind him. As he struggled to guide his own boat, Olgrave saw to his horror that he was being followed by a stronger and better oarsman. He could not hope to stay ahead of him. Sweat was already dribbling down his face and moistening his shirt under the armpits. Fear made his heart pound like a drum.

Olgrave used one oar to turn the prow of his boat towards the shore, then he put all his effort into reaching it before he was caught. Nicholas changed course as well, gaining on him with every pull of the oars. He was less than fifteen yards behind now. Looking over his shoulder, Olgrave saw a landing stage ahead that served the stately residence of Durham House. When he got close, he let go of his oars and turned round to stand up in the boat. As soon as it thudded into the timber, he flung himself at the landing stage and tried to drag himself up.

Nicholas was soon after him, tying his own boat to one of the iron rings before jumping ashore to give pursuit. Breathing heavily, Olgrave swung round to confront him, tugging a dagger from its sheath and holding it aloft. The only way to shake off his pursuer, he accepted, was to kill him. When he recognised Nicholas, his desire for blood was quickened.

‘Give up your weapon,’ said Nicholas, as the other man circled him slowly. ‘You heard what Owen told me. There’s a warrant for your arrest.’

‘I’ll not be taken,’ snapped Olgrave.

‘There’s no way out for you.’

‘Or for you, sir.’ He slashed with the dagger but Nicholas eluded the blade. ‘You should have kept your nose out of our affairs, my friend. It will cost you your life.’

‘I think not,’ said Nicholas, dodging another thrust. ‘I’m not like Hywel Rees, You and your partner cannot bludgeon me from behind and throw me in the Thames.’

Olgrave smirked. ‘No, but I can stab you through the heart and watch you die at my feet,’ he said. ‘It’s no more than your meddling deserves.’

Nicholas danced out of the way as the dagger was aimed at his heart. He still had Beechcroft’s weapon tucked in his belt, but he did not even think of drawing it. He wanted to take Olgrave alive so that the man could be convicted of his crimes. To dispatch him now in the darkness would be to let him escape the full rigor of justice, and that had to be avoided. Nicholas reminded himself that here was a man who had raped an innocent girl without mercy and helped to murder her friend.

Jabbing with the dagger, Olgrave tried to move him backward towards the river so that the available space was cut down. He was only a tailor by trade but he still felt able to dispose of a man who appeared to be unarmed. He did not realise that Nicholas was a veteran of countless brawls with sailors. That experience had sharpened his instincts. Every time that Olgrave thrust his dagger, Nicholas seemed to know exactly where it would go and evaded its point. However, he was being manoeuvred slowly backward.

Olgrave ran out of patience. Unable even to wound his man, he suddenly dived forward to grab him by the shoulder, intending to ram the dagger into his body with the other hand. Instead, Nicholas caught him by the wrist and tried to twist the weapon from his grasp. Olgrave reacted swiftly, tripping Nicholas up so that fell down and pulled his attacker on top of him. They grappled furiously. Olgrave’s wrist was still held in an iron grip but the point of the dagger was only inches away from Nicholas’s face.

‘I’ll blind you first and kill you afterwards,’ boasted Olgrave.

‘Your luck has finally run out, I think.’

‘You are the one in need of luck, my friend.’

‘I doubt that, Master Olgrave.’

‘Die, you rogue!’

With a surge of strength, he pressed down hard but Nicholas was too quick for him again. He flicked his head aside so that the dagger embedded itself harmlessly in the timber, then he rolled Olgrave over and sat astride him to deliver a relay of punches. Getting to his feet, Nicholas dragged his adversary up after him. Olgrave was not finished yet. He flailed away with both arms until Nicholas hit him with a fearsome uppercut that sent him reeling backward. The next moment, Olgrave had fallen off the edge of the landing stage into the water. As soon as he surfaced, he began to thresh about wildly.

‘Help me!’ he begged. ‘I cannot swim!’

‘What help did you give to Dorothea Tate?’

‘For the love of God, get me out of here!’

‘Confess your crimes first,’ said Nicholas. ‘Did you violate the girl?’

‘Yes, yes.’

‘And did you murder Hywel Rees?’

‘No, I swear it!’

‘Then stay in the river and drown.’

‘Spare me. I’ll tell all.’