Still, I wasn’t sure what his time in prison had to do with Maggie’s dodge. But it seemed he wanted to tell me about it, so I asked, “Howwereyou caught?”
James settled his left palm on the carved end of the chair arm. “I was on the river, moving whiskey and wine for a French merchant. It was pitch-dark, and they had dozens of us lightermen working by lamps hanging from the side of the ship. They’d anchor at night about a mile downstream”—he flicked his forefinger to the east—“completely overloaded with barrels. They had small ones for us, easier to handle. They offloaded the larger ones at the Custom House.”
“Because otherwise, if the ship was spotted, Customs would wonder why it wasn’t unloading anything,” I guessed. “But wouldn’t they notice the hold wasn’t full?”
He gave a half laugh. “Of course you’d think of that. There are false walls running the length of the ship for the small barrels. Officers are too busy to be checking if the innards of a ship and the outer hull match.”
“Ah.” Like the short pockets that concealed our thieving ones—and possibly the walls between Simonson’s and Willingham’s.
“To avoid the river patrols, we had to row upriver to a hidden dock.” His finger beat a quick tattoo. “But one night, as I pulled in, three bull’s-eye lanterns all switched on for me and two other blokes about twenty yards behind. They both jumped and swam off, but two Yard men got hold of me, and another had a pistol pointed at my face.”
My breath caught. “What did you do?”
“Do?” James gave a short chuckle. “What do you think? It was me against three of them and a pistol, so I went. Next afternoon, I was tried and thrown in gaol, and a few days later, this Yard man named Pickford paid me a visit. He pulled me into a private cell, wanting to know who the others were.”
“You didn’t tell him.”
He gave me a look. “Course not. But he had to try.”
I nodded.
“Next, he asked about the merchant. They had the barrels of wine, so there was no denying they were French, but the merchants don’t put names on the barrels until they reach the warehouses. Pickford beat on me, but I wouldn’t tell him anything about the merchant, either.”
“Because they’d catch other lightermen by keeping watch for those ships.”
He briefly turned over a palm. “Pickford said I’d get one year for certain and threatened to make it three or five by pinning more charges on me. When I still didn’t talk, he changed his tune, said he could spring me, perhaps even find me work with a decent wage in exchange for information.” A bitter smile pulled one corner of his mouth. “I told him for the last time, I wasn’t a rat, and that’s when he said, ‘No, but if I find those other two men in the next few days and bring them in here, everyone will think you are. And I won’t correct them.’”
“Oh.” The word escaped with a gasp. James would be a dead man.
James raised an eyebrow. “Aye, he was a bugger. And that week, I stayed up every night, hoping to hell he wouldn’t find my friends, not just for their sakes.”
“Emma must have been terrified,” I said.
“Oh, she was.” His voice was emphatic.
“You saw her, then?”
“They let her visit the once.”
I felt a prick of shame. “Sorry I didn’t.”
“I knew Sarah was sick, same as plenty of others. Emma told me.” He was being kind.
“I could’ve come when she was well.”
“They only allowed family.”
“Stop,” I said sharply. “They’ll let anyone in for a coin, and I could have said I was your sister. We were friends. I should have come. Let me say I’m sorry.”
“You’ve said it, then,” he replied mildly. “But don’t fret about it any longer. I got out.”
“How?” I asked. “Pickford?”
“No, he never came back. My next visitor was named Fuller. I was dragged back into that foul room, and he walked in, and I thought, hell, must we do this yet again? Only he was different. Decent.” He saw my doubtful look and his mouth twitched. “He wasn’t a Yard man. He worked for a newspaper, and he wasn’t interested in me ending up dead, it served no purpose. He’d help me if he could, but I had to give him something.” He sniffed. “I started to say I wouldn’t, and he interrupted, saying there were dozens of cases of smuggling going unsolved, and he was writing articles about them. People talked in prison, and if I learned something that might help him, he might help me find an honest day’s work, especially seeing as I spoke French.”
“How did he know that?”
James snorted. “When he came into the room, I saidmerde. Means ‘shit.’ I said it more than once.”
