Julian Stockwin - Inferno

Tom Kydd would find his old messmate Stirk there when he needed him, and be buggered to what any cove made of that.

With that thought, he felt better.

The first dark ale at the White Lion went down with relish, and Stirk was about to put in for a threepenny ordinary when he felt his sleeve twitched. ‘Laddie! Ye gave me such a start-’

‘Toby, I needs t’ talk wi’ ye,’ McFadden whispered, looking about nervously.

‘I’m listenin’, mate.’

‘Not ’ere! I cannae-what I wants t’ say is private, you ’n’ me, like.’

At this hour in the afternoon the snug was free and Stirk settled next to him by the inglenook of an unlit fire. ‘Well, what’s it about, then, Laddie?’

The man looked away, as if wrestling with a decision, then leaned closer. ‘It’s a sad puzzle I has, Toby, an’ no one to tell it to for near a twelve-month.’

‘An’ now ye’re going to split wi’ me.’

‘You’re the only one I trusts, Toby, ye know that.’

‘I don’t peach on m’ friends, if that’s y’r meaning.’

‘No, mate, it’s more’n that.’

Furtively checking that no one was watching, he felt about in his breeks. His calloused hand slowly uncurled and in his palm was a single golden coin. ‘Toby, I knows ye’ve seen near everythin’ on y’r voyaging about on the high seas. I want ye to tell me what this is. Go on, take it, an’ have a good look.’

Stirk inspected the coin. All of an inch across, it was of substantial thickness, ornately stamped with a large, equal-sided cross on one side and filigree work. ‘It’s Spanish, Laddie, I’ll give ye that. But it ain’t one I know, mate. Pieces-of-eight, why they’s silver only, an’ I dare t’ say are made better’n this.’

That only made McFadden more excited. ‘Yair, as I reckon too. Now I has m’ ideas about this’n and I’d give anything t’ know for sure.’

‘Ye’ve found treasure, is th’ size of it. Am I right, cuffin?’

McFadden’s eyes glittered. Then he sat back with a sigh. ‘Aye, lad. I think I have, but it’s not in m’ hands. An’ that’s the rub – this gets out, an’ every man on the island’ll be down firkling about like demons an’ I’ll lose it.’

‘Ye can’t get at it y’self, and are a-feared t’ go asking as y’r secret’ll get shared.’

‘Like y’ say.’

‘Well, now, an’ you’re at a stand. Either ye tells someone and loses y’r secret or you don’t, an’ ye never gets to lay hands on y’r treasure.’

McFadden winced. ‘True enough.’

Stirk raised an eyebrow. ‘Ye’d better lay it before me, cully. Y’ knows I’d give ye a right steer.’

‘An’ promise not t’ tell?’

‘On m’ honour, Laddie – as can be sealed wi’ a muzzler of ale.’

Stirk’s price duly met, McFadden lowered his voice. ‘It’s like this. When I fishes an’ it comes on to blow I generally makes f ’r the lee of one o’ they outer islands, Coll, Tiree or similar, and short-line for plaice an’ eel. One time, last autumn it was, I was in with one of ’em – never mind which – and I’m in close, sees one o’ them sea caverns, not s’ big, and decides to bait up for conger just off it.

‘While I’m laying out m’ lines I notices there’s a wreck bung up in the cavern. An old ’un, ye can always tell. We’ve more’n our share o’ shipwrecks in these waters so I doesn’t notice. There’s a good bite an’ we fights until I hauls him in, a right knaggy conger. I tells the skinker t’ settle him an’, it gettin’ on for dusk, heads back an’ I send him home. While there’s still light I guts the catch, an’ when I get t’ the eel … out pops this’n!’

‘Ye’re sayin’ he ate the coin?’ Stirk chuckled.

‘Fish go for bright ’n’ shiny things, y’ fool, everyone knows that.’ McFadden snorted.

‘So what’s it mean?’

‘Right, well, a conger don’t stray much. He finds a hole in th’ rocks an’ stays there, comin’ out to take any fish or such as passes.’

‘So?’

‘Can’t ye see it? If he took the coin it’s because it was right there, an’ couldn’t be anywhere else ’cos he don’t go a-cruisin’ like other fish.’

‘And-’

‘Yeah! The coins – they’re spillin’ out o’ the wreck. We got to go there an’ get diggin’ quick. But if I goes an’ they see me worritin’ away at th’ wreck all day, why, it’s all over begob!’

‘You think …’

‘That there shipwreck is from y’r Spanish Armada as was, them years ago. A fortune o’ gold aboard and, like them others, piles ashore in a storm. Could be a treasure s’ high a man can’t jump over it. Think on it, Toby – if we can get our fists on it we’d live like lords for th’ rest of our days!’

Stirk’s eyes gleamed. ‘We, y’ said?’

‘I can’t do it on m’ own, Toby. Come in wi’ me and it’ll just be we two …’

‘We gotta plan well, then, matey. Has ye any ideas?’

‘Yeah. I takes ye there and y’ slips over the side and gets in the cavern. I forgot t’ mention, there’s no way y’ can get down into it from above, and it’s out o’ sight anyways. That’s why no one’s touched it, see.’

‘So I digs an’ sweats while you’re a-catchin’ y’r fish.’

‘Y’ knows I can’t be seen at it, Toby,’ McFadden said reproachfully.

‘Don’t take on so, cuffin. I’ll do it f ’r such a prize, never fear. Now, first thing is t’ be sure this is what y’ say, out of an Armada barky. If not, there ain’t goin’ to be more gold – stands to reason. No other ship has treasure chests.’

‘And how are we goin’ t’ do that? Can’t ask about – the laird hears of it an’ he’ll not rest until he’s got it all, the bastard.’

‘Well, now, and I might ’ave an idea on that, Laddie …’

Kydd would be coming in for his bracer soon, and who better? He could be trusted and he had a head-piece. He would know what it was or how to find out.

But he was an officer and they had a different slant on things. What if he took it into his noggin to tell the Revenue or such? Kydd was a true north sort of cove right enough and if he … No, he wouldn’t. He knew the way of a Jack Tar and right now didn’t he want to be a part of it? He’d not turn them in.

When Kydd entered Stirk gave a cheery hail. ‘What ho, Tom, mate! Bring y’r arse to anchor wi’ us.’ Whatever had passed up there on the heights seemed to have done him a power of good. ‘What’ll ye have?’

Kydd gave a wry smile. ‘The usual, Toby.’

Stirk turned and bellowed, ‘A jorum of y’r finest ale – with th’ splicin’s!’

After it had arrived, Stirk beckoned him closer. ‘I’ve a favour t’ beg of ye, Tom. See, Laddie here’s found somethin’ and he’s vexed t’ know what it is.’

‘Oh?’

‘He wants it to be like, confidential, no bugger t’ know he has it or they’ll be after him. So ye’ll keep it to y’rself?’

‘If that’s what he’s asking.’ Kydd glanced at McFadden curiously.

‘Right. Here it is.’ Stirk pushed out a fist, leaving the coin gleaming on the rough table.

Kydd shielded his hand as he palmed it up, looked at it closely, then passed it back.

‘Well?’ Stirk demanded, with a frown.

‘Laddie, where did you get this?’

‘Never mind. What is it, f ’r God’s sake?’

‘No question. This is a gold doubloon, dates back a ways, time of Good Queen Bess, I shouldn’t wonder.’