He had the telescope anyway. Sometimes he thought Uncle Jim being drowned was all his fault because he’d been glad to get the telescope afterwards. But he’d never thought about having the telescope before Uncle Jim went away. He’d never, ever, wished that Uncle Jim was dead. He’d never even dreamed about having the telescope to himself before that night.
Billy stood up. It was better not even to think about all that. He’d been going to look at that snow again, see if he could make out her name. That was what to do next. That was a lot better than thinking.
CHAPTER 6
‘A MOMENT, SIR, IF YOU PLEASE.’
It was Mr Kneen again. Archie turned back impatiently. ‘Yes?’
‘A message for you, sir. From Mr Quirk.’
‘Mr Quirk? I was just stepping round to the Castle to see him now.’
‘That’s it, sir. He won’t be at the Castle this morning. He’ll meet you here at the George, in the usual parlour, at eleven o’clock. He sent a message.’
‘Eleven!’ Archie pulled his watch out of his waistcoat pocket and looked at it, as if that would somehow help. ‘Doesn’t he know we have to leave for Port St Mary this morning?’
‘Ay well, sir, you won’t be sailing today anyway, and it’s less than six miles to Port St Mary. You’re not needing to be away from here till this afternoon, I’m thinking.’
So they all knew his business, damn them, even down to the innkeeper. But that was only to be expected in a place like this. Archie tapped his watch impatiently. ‘No doubt,’ he said coldly.
He’d no sooner stepped out of the inn than he met Ben Groat in the Square. What with the cries of the fish-sellers, and the housewives hurrying to the bakery in their pattens, baskets on their arms, it was impossible to talk sensibly.
‘Come round to the stables,’ said Archie.
The stables were at the back of the inn, reached by a narrow lane full of dung. A solitary cow, newly milked, lumbered out from a stone-flagged passage leading into the nearest house, and picked her way towards the green at the end of the street. Ben explained why it would make more sense to look for another chainman in Port St Mary, and, to his relief, Young Archibald absentmindedly agreed. He seemed to have something else on his mind, which was all to the good. In the stableyard a boy was rubbing down a sweating hack, but there was no sign of the head groom. In the coachhouse their gear was still safely in the gig, untouched.
‘Good,’ said Archie, when he’d inspected everything. ‘Ben, the devil of it is I willna be able to see this fellow afore eleven. I doubt we’ll be away until well after noon.’
‘Well, the horse’ll no mind,’ said Ben philosophically. ‘In fact I could put the poor beast out to grass. There’s a hobble in the gig. Then we could have a bite of dinner if we’re still here at midday.’ Ben followed Archie into the yard. ‘I speired about getting to Port St Mary too. The road’s no as good as the turnpike from Douglas, but it’s dry enough in this weather, and flat all the way, the old fellow said.’
Archie was looking at the sky, biting his lip. Not a cloud in sight, and not a breath of wind. The drought seemed set to continue. There was no chance at all of setting sail today, and that meant that in all honesty there was no hurry. Five and a half miles in a gig along an indifferent road – say an hour and a half at the worst. It was – he glanced at his watch again – nearly eight now. Low water was at eighteen minutes past eleven. They had to sail to Ellan Bride on the ebb to have the current with them. If only they hadn’t been held up by this business, they could have gone out on the ebb this morning. But they were missing this tide, damn it … and as for the next one, it was unlikely they’d persuade the boatman to leave this evening, as he’d then have to come home after dark, with no wind to help him either way. If they aimed at a dawn start tomorrow, he could send Ben to buy provisions now, while he saw this Mr Quirk … and now Ben was coming out of the stable, leading a depressed-looking roan, and was speaking to him again. ‘What did you say, Ben?’
‘About Drew, Mr Buchanan. What’ll we do about Drew?’
‘Nothing,’ said Archie emphatically. ‘Scott must fend for himself.’
‘But Mr Buchanan …’ Archie strode off down the street. Since the horse was in no hurry, Ben had to call after him. ‘Sir!’
Archie turned round. He had to look up six inches to meet Ben’s eyes; he always found that a disadvantage, but he said firmly, ‘No, Ben. It was insane, what Drew did. Doesn’t he realise we’ve got to keep these people on our side? He could have done us no end of damage. He must take what comes to him.’
Ben knew this mood of Young Archibald’s. There was never any point pleading with him. They’d worked together since Ben had started out as apprentice chainman on the Sutherland survey – so long, in fact, that Archie very seldom gave Ben direct orders. They respected each other, and Ben hardly ever got the Young Archibald treatment which so infuriated Drew. Usually he deflected any signs of it, but in this case he’d promised Drew. ‘But Mr Buchanan …’
‘Well?’
‘I saw Drew this morning, sir. Yon dungeon he’s in is the filthiest hellhole … it makes the Tollbooth look like a palace! And he’s no even been charged yet – they couldna find the constable – they may no even ken he’s in there! If ye’d seen him, sir. We kinna leave Drew to rot!’
This time Archie did give him a civil answer, but all the same he shook his head. ‘What would you have me do, Ben? If he’s broken the law of the land, what can I do?’
‘I’m sure you could, when you speak to this Bailiff today. A bailiff would be the right man, surely? Otherwise … what’ll they do to him? D’you ken what the law is here? Because I don’t. But seemingly they transported a fellow in like case.’
‘They won’t transport Scott! Doubtless they’ll have him up before their magistrate, and let him cool his heels for a couple of weeks in jail. He brought it on himself; he’ll have to thole it.’
‘Then, sir …’
‘What?’
‘We might well gang hame afore that! What if he’s in jail still?’
‘Then he’ll serve his sentence.’
‘But if we don’t take him back with us, Mr Stevenson’s going to ken about it. And Drew willna have the money for the steam packet, I’m sure of that.’
‘Is there any good reason why Mr Stevenson shouldn’t ken about it?’
‘It’s Drew’s job, Mr Archie,’ said Ben firmly. ‘I doubt he’d get another.’
‘For good reason, it seems. Enough of this, Ben! We’re a man short now, and there’s work to do!’
‘Ay well,’ said Ben reluctantly, ‘I think we could maybe hire one of the people at the lighthouse. At least they’d be getting some good out of us then.’
‘There isn’t anyone to hire at the lighthouse. Only women and bairns, Mr Stevenson said.’
‘Ay well, a woman or a bairn can hold the end of a chain. One of them
