“An able seaman, you say?”Vaughan addressed himself to Jed.“What ship?”
Bugger off,was what Jed wanted to say.But he knew the consequences for talking back to an officer, and he’d had five years of practice at holding his tongue.He pressed his lips together.
Vaughan raised an eyebrow.“You won’t get very far in the Navy with that attitude.”He picked up his pen again.“Name, age, place of birth?”
Jed hesitated.If he didn’t give his real name… But no.It didn’t matter, because he would die before he let himself be pressed again.
He said nothing.
Vaughan scribbled a line in the register, saying out loud, “John Jones, thirty years old, born in Taunton.”He signalled to one of his men.“Take him away.Next!”
The cellar stank of piss and acrid, fear-tinged sweat, the air barely stirred by the draught from the tiny, barred window high up in one corner.There was no furniture.The dozen men held in these cramped quarters were sitting or lying around on the damp earthen floor as best they could.
One lay curled up in the corner, sobbing and hiccuping.Another man, a scrawny, pock-marked fellow, rose every ten minutes or so and climbed the stairs to pound on the cellar door, shouting, “This is all a mistake!I shouldn’t be here.”
“You might as well save your breath, friend,” one of the other prisoners said wearily.He was a longshoreman, one of the five who’d come in the tender with Jed.They’d been snatched from a harbour further along the coast earlier that day.
Jed sat propped against the wall near the stairs, eyes closed, legs bent to avoid the man lying stretched out by his feet.He had choked down a slice of dry bread the longshoremen had given him, and now he had nothing to do but wait.The rope around his wrists had been cut, and the raw skin there stung, but not badly enough to distract him from his more serious problem.
“How long do you think we’ll be here?”one man asked.
“Until a ship is ready to receive us,” Jed said.“Maybe today, maybe a week from now.”
“You’ve been through this before, have you?”one of the longshoremen asked.
Jed nodded, and they all stared at him as though he were a fount of wisdom.
“What kind of life is it?Is it true they make you swab the deck every day?Is it true they bring women aboard in every port?Is it true they flog you at the drop of a hat?”
Jed only shook his head.He could not bear to think or talk about that just now.
“At least you get paid,” said one man, a half-starved-looking creature who was probably a volunteer.
Jed let out a bitter laugh.Yes, about two years late, he thought but didn’t say.There was no need to sink the poor wretch’s spirits; he would learn soon enough.Jed himself had only ever received a quarter of the pay that should have been due to him.
“Let’s say, at least you’re well fed,” he said aloud.
There was no sign of Solomon.Was he with Vaughan?Was he in danger?Despite his resolution to avoid thinking about Solomon, Jed felt a pang of sharp, painful worry.
“Did they offer any of you fellows the bounty?”one man asked the room at large.“I heard that’s what they do—let you agree to be a volunteer, and then go halves with you on the bounty.I have to say, I’d go for it.”
“No, but they said they’d let me go for ten pound,” another said.
“Ten pound!They asked me for twelve, the dirty bilkers.Not that it makes any difference one way or the other, for I haven’t even ten shillings to my name.”
“I heard they only give bounties for quota men,” another voice piped up.
“No, that en’t true—”
An argument broke out over the question.Jed closed his eyes.He needed to plan when to make a break for it.He knew he’d only get one chance at it; he’d already been labelled as someone to be closely watched.Should he run when they took him out to be seen by the surgeon?Or wait till they were marched back down to the harbour?That way he could disappear down some lane or alley in the town.He knew Minehead fairly well: it was only twenty miles along the coast from Ledcombe, and he’d come here in his carrier’s cart every Monday and Thursday.
Or maybe he should have tried to run already.Maybe it was already too late.He shifted restlessly, his fingers digging into the damp earth he sat on.
The cellar door opened, and two gangers came through.One of them stayed at the top of the steps, brandishing a drawn cutlass, while the other held up a lantern, shining it here and there in the room, peering at each man’s face.He stopped when he found Jed.
“That’s him.Come on, my lad, you’re coming along of us.”
In one of the upstairs rooms, Lieutenant Vaughan sat behind a small table that served as a desk.Solomon stood nearby.He had no guard, but his hands were still tied behind his back.He tried, unsuccessfully, to catch Jed’s eye.
