Joseph Delaney: The Spook's Mistake

The Spook had just decided that we should press on north towards Kendal when we heard muffled sounds approaching. It was the steady beat of hooves and the swish of water. Then, looming out of the mist, we saw two huge shire horses harnessed one behind the other. They were being led down the towpath by a man in a leather tunic and were pulling a long narrow barge behind them.

As the barge passed underneath the bridge, I saw the man glance back up towards us. Then he brought the horses to a gradual halt, tethered them on the towpath and walked up onto the wooden bridge with a steady, unhurried stride and a confident roll of his shoulders. He wasn't a tall man but he was thick-set, with large hands, and despite the chill, underneath the leather jerkin the top two buttons of his shirt were open, revealing a thatch of brown hair.

Most men would cross the road to avoid passing too close to a spook, but he smiled broadly, and to my astonishment, walked right up to my master and held out his hand. 'I expect you're Mr Gregory.' The stranger beamed. 'I'm Matthew Gilbert. Bill Arkwright asked me to collect the boy. '

They shook hands, my master returning his smile. 'I'm pleased to meet you too, Mr Gilbert,' the Spook replied, 'but isn't he well enough to come himself?'

'No, it's not that, although he has been poorly,' Mr Gilbert explained. 'It's just that they've found a body in the water — it had been drained of blood like the others. It's the third in two months and Bill's gone north to investigate. Of late the dark seems to be rearing its ugly head more often and he's been kept really busy.'

The Spook nodded thoughtfully but didn't comment. Instead he put his hand on my shoulder. 'Well, this is Tom Ward. He expected to walk — no doubt he'll be pleased to get himself a ride. '

Mr Gilbert smiled and then shook my hand. 'I'm very pleased to meet you, young Tom. But now I'll let you say your goodbyes in peace. So I'll see you down there,' he said, nodding towards the barge and then making his way down.

'Well, lad, don't forget to write. You can send us a letter after the first week to let us know how you've settled in,' the Spook said, handing me a couple of small silver coins. 'And here's something for Bill Arkwright to help towards your keep.' And he placed a guinea in my hand. 'I can't see you having any problems. Just work as hard for Arkwright as you have for me and all should be well. For a while you're going to have a different master with his own way of working and it'll be your task to adapt to him — not the other way round. Keep your notebook up to date and write down everything he teaches you — even if it's not quite the same as I've taught. It's always good to have another perspective, and by now Arkwright is an expert on things that come out of the water. So listen well and be on your guard. The County's a dangerous place at present. We all need to keep our wits about us!'

With that, the Spook gave me a nod and turned on his heel. Only when he'd left the bridge did Alice approach. She put her arms right round me and hugged me close.

'Oh, Tom! Tom! I'll miss you,' she said.

'And I'll miss you,' I replied, a lump coming to my throat.

She pulled away and held me at arm's length. 'Take care of yourself, please. I couldn't bear it if anything were to happen to you. '

'Nothing's going to happen,' I said, trying to reassure her. 'And I can look after myself. You should know that by now.'

'Listen,' she said, looking quickly over her shoulder, 'if you're in trouble or you need to tell me something urgently, use a mirror!'

Her words shocked me and I took a step backwards. Witches employed mirrors to communicate and I'd seen Alice use one once. The Spook would be horrified by what she was saying. Such practices belonged to the dark and he would never approve of us communicating in that way.

'Ain't no cause to look at me like that, Tom,' Alice insisted. 'All you have to do is place both hands against a mirror and think about me just as hard as you can. If it don't work the first time, then keep trying.'

'No, Alice, I'm not doing anything like that,' I told her angrily. 'It's something from the dark and I'm here to fight it, not be part of it. '

'Not that simple, Tom. Sometimes we need to fight the dark with the dark. Remember that, despite what Old Gregory might say. And be careful. Ain't a good part of the County to be. I was up there once with Bony Lizzie and lived on the edge of the marsh, not too far from Arkwright's mill. So take care, please!'

I nodded, then, impulsively, leaned forward and kissed her on the left cheek. She drew back and I saw tears welling in her eyes. The parting was hard for both of us. Then she turned and ran from the bridge. Moments later she'd disappeared into the mist.

I walked sadly down onto the towpath. Matthew Gilbert was waiting for me and he simply pointed to a wooden seat at the front of the barge. I sat myself down and looked about. Behind me were two huge wooden hatches, their padlocks hanging loose. This was a working barge and no doubt a cargo of some sort was stowed down there.

Moments later we were heading north. I kept glancing back towards the bridge, hoping against hope that Alice would appear so I could see her one last time. She didn't and it gave me a pain in my chest to leave her behind like that.

Every so often we passed a barge travelling in the opposite direction. Each time Mr Gilbert exchanged a cheery wave with the other bargeman. These craft varied in size but all were long and narrow with one or more hatches. But whereas some were well kept, with bright, colourful paintwork, others were black and grimy, with fragments of coal on their decks suggesting what lay in the hold.

At about one o'clock Mr Gilbert brought the horses to a stop, freed them from their harness and tethered them on the edge of some rough grassland at the side of the canal. While they grazed, he quickly made a fire and proceeded to cook us some lunch. I asked if I could help in any way but he shook his head.

'Guests don't work,' he said. 'I'd rest while you can. Bill Arkwright works his apprentices hard. Don't get me wrong though, he's a good man — good at his job — and he's done a lot for the County. And he's tenacious too. Once he's got the whiff of his quarry he never gives up.'

He peeled some potatoes and carrots and boiled them in a pan over the fire. We sat at the rear of the barge, our feet dangling over the water, eating with our fingers from two wooden plates. The food hadn't been cooked long enough and both the carrots and the potatoes were still hard. But I was hungry enough to eat both the bargeman's horses so I just chewed thoroughly and swallowed. We ate in silence, but after a while, out of politeness, I tried to engage the bargeman in conversation.

'Have you known Mr Arkwright long?' I asked.

'Ten years or more,' Mr Gilbert replied. 'Bill used to live at the mill with his parents but they died years ago. Since becoming the local spook he's become a very good customer of mine. Takes a big delivery of salt every month. I fill five large barrels for him. I also bring him other provisions: candles, food — you name it. Especially wine. Likes a tipple, Bill does. Not your common elderberry or dandelion wine for him. Prefers his wine red. It comes by ship to Sunderland Point then overland to Kendal, where I take it aboard once a month. He pays me well.'

I was intrigued by the quantity of salt. In combination with iron, spooks used salt to coat the inside of pits when binding boggarts. It could also be used as a weapon against creatures of the dark. But we used relatively small amounts and bought small bags from the village grocer. Why would he need five barrels of salt every month?

'Is that your cargo now — salt and wine?' I asked.