Savage. Part 2

With confidence born of youth and ignorance, however, I never doubted that I'd somehow find my way to the Leman Street station and locate Uncle William.

CHAPTER THREE.

Me and the Unfortunates.

And so I set off at a brisk pace for Gray's Inn Road.

I kept a sharp lookout for hansoms. Daws may have given up on me, but I took no chances and ducked out of sight on the rare occasions a cab came rolling along.

Gray's Inn Road led me, sure enough, to Holborn. I scooted along at a fair clip that had me huffing and warm in spite of being soaked to the skin.

Whenever I got an urge to slow down, I pictured Mother alone with Barnes, maybe watching out the window and wondering why I hadn't shown up yet with Uncle Bill. Barnes wasn't likely to harm her, not shackled like he was. He might even snooze along till morning. But Mother would like as not have a rough night of it, anyhow, what with waiting for me. She was bound to worry. And she'd be worrying all the more if Daws should pay her a visit and tell her how I'd dodged away.

By the time Holborn started to be Newgate Street, I'd stopped dodging hansoms. I even gave some thought to hailing one and taking a ride back home. Dang my hide, though, my pride just wouldn't allow it. I'd started off to fetch Uncle Bill, and I aimed to get the job done.

Before I knew it, I was hotfooting it past the Bank of England. I cut across the road, rushed on by the pillars in front of the Royal Exchange, and got to Cornhill.

Cornhill went in the right direction, and I followed it. Pretty soon, I was in foreign territory. Leadenhall Street? I'd never been this far east. But east was where I wanted to go.

So far, there'd only been a handful of people about. But that changed. The farther I walked, the more turned up. They roamed the streets, sat in the doorways of lodging houses, stumbled out of pubs and music halls, leaned against lamp posts, lurked in dark alleys. They were a sorry looking lot.

I saw mere tykes and many youngsters no older than myself. Some just roamed about like stray dogs. Others seemed to be having a good time with their chums, chasing each other and such. Every one of them was barefoot and coatless and dressed in rags. They shouldn't have been out in the cold and rain, but I figured they must have no place better to go.

Some of the grownups wore boots and coats, but plenty didn't. A lot of the women had shawls pulled over their heads to keep the rain off. There were men in hats with brims pulled down as if they didn't want anyone to see their faces. n.o.body at all had an umbrella, so it was just as well I'd lost mine.

Even without a brolly, the cut of my duds made me stand out all too much. Heads turned as I hurried by. Folks called out to me. Some came my way, but I picked up my pace and left them behind.

They're likely just curious, I kept telling myself. They don't mean to harm me.

Mother liked to call such folks "unfortunates." Uncle Bill, when he had me alone to regail me with Ripper stories, put it otherwise. To him, the unfortunates were "a G.o.dless crew of cutthroats, wh.o.r.es, riffraff and urchins" who dwelled with vermin, carried horrible diseases, and would cheerfully slit a fellow's gullet for a ha'penny.

I figured Mother's view was tempered by the goodness of her heart, while Uncle Bill's was likely jaundiced by the nature of his work, and the real truth might fall somewhere in the middle.

The people all around me sure did look unfortunate, but they couldn't all be ruffians and wh.o.r.es. I'd read enough to know plenty of them worked hard at such places as slaughterhouses, docks and tailoring shops. Some were peddlers, carters and dustmen. They did the hard and dirty work, and just didn't earn much at it, that's all.

As I walked along, however, I couldn't help but get the jitters. Uncle Bill might have a tainted view of things, but that didn't mean he was altogether wrong.

I kept a sharp eye out.

As John McSween would later tell me, "Look sharp, w.i.l.l.y. You wanta spot trouble before it spots you."

And what I spotted, just about then, was a gal up against a lamp post. Her curly hair was all matted down with rain. She looked older than me, but not by much. Except for a bruised, puffy eye, she was rather pretty. She wore a long dress and had a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. As I got closer, she pushed herself away from the post and took a step toward me.

I pulled up short.

This might be one of those wh.o.r.es Uncle Bill'd told me about.

I got all hot and squirmy inside.

Figuring the wise move would be a quick bolt for the high ground, I glanced across the street. But over there was a legless fellow propped against a wall. He had a patch over one eye and a bottle at his mouth. He wasn't about to chase after me, but I didn't much relish getting any closer to him than I already was.

So I stayed my course.

The gal walked right up to me. I stopped and gave her a smile that made my lips hurt. Then I did a sidestep, hoping to dodge her. She sidestepped right along with me. She grinned.

"What's your awful hurry?" she asked. I reckon that's what she asked. It sounded, like "Wot'sur ohfulurry?" Her breath fairly reeked of beer.

"I'm afraid I've lost my way. I'm trying to find..." There, I hesitated. It might not do, at all, to let such a person know I was looking for a police station. "I'm on my way to Leman Street," I told her. "Is that far from here?"

"Leman Street, is it? Well, Sue, she'll take you right there, won't she?"

Once I'd figured out what she'd said, I felt my stomach sink. "Oh, that's not necessary. If you'd just be good enough to tell tell me..." me..."

But she stepped right in against my side, took my arm and commenced to drag me along. Mixed with her beery fumes was a flowery sweet odor of perfume that wanted to clog my nose.

"No, it's quite all right," I protested.

"A young toff such as yourself and you'd be sure to run afoul of the likes of which would do you horrible harm and likely leave you for dead and you shouldn't want that now should you? Sue, she'll see you safely along and we'll get where you're bound to be going by and by."

"Thank you, but..."

"This way, this way." She steered me around a corner.

We were on a street even narrower than the one we'd left behind. Several of the gas lamps were out, leaving big patches of blackness. On both sides were lodging houses, many with broken windows. Few had lights inside. I glimpsed people in doorways and leaning against walls and roaming about in the darkness ahead of us.

If I had to be in such a place, I was glad to have company.

"What's your name?" Sue asked.

"Trevor."

"And Trevor, do you like me?" She pulled my arm so it met up with the swell of her bosom.

Not wanting to offend her, I let it stay.

"You're very kind," I said.

She gave a throaty laugh. "Kind, is it? Oh, but you're a sweet young toff and a brave one at that." She turned her face to me and her beery breath rubbed my cheek. "Am I a pretty one?"

Her face was only a blur in the darkness, but I easily recalled how she'd looked under the streetlamp. Besides, I would've agreed that she was a pretty one even if she'd looked like the back end of a horse. Just to keep her happy. "You're quite pretty," I said.

"You'd like a go at me, now wouldn't you?"

A go?

I wasn't sure what that might entail, but it scared me plenty. My mouth got dry and my heart started whamming so hard I could barely catch my breath.

"It's awfully late," I said. "And I really am in quite a rush. But thank you, anyway."

"Aw, you're such a shy one you are."

With that, she steered me into an alley.

"No, please," I protested. "I don't think..."

"Now it won't take any time at all, Trevor, and then we'll be right along on our way."

Sue was just about my own height. She might've outweighed me some. But I was strong for my size, and quick. Could've broken away from her, if I'd tried.

Didn't try.

For one thing, I didn't relish losing my one and only guide through dangerous territory.

For another, I didn't want to hurt Sue's feelings.

And then, too, I'd never had a "go" at anyone. Here was my chance to learn, firsthand, what it was all about.

By the time I decided this was neither where I wanted to do my learning nor who I wanted to learn it from, Sue had me pushed against a brick wall.

She unb.u.t.toned my coat and spread it open. Then she commenced to rub me through my shirt. It felt just fine. But that was nothing to when she rubbed me down below. If this was what having a "go" was all about, I'd been missing plenty. I was all-fired embarra.s.sed, but that didn't count near as much as the rest of the way I was feeling.

Before I knew it, she'd unwrapped her shawl and lifted my hands and planted them smack on her bosoms. There was nothing except thin wet cloth between them and me. I could feel their heat coming through. They were big and springy and soft, with parts that pushed like little fingertips against my palms.

I knew I shouldn't be touching her there. I reckoned it was a sin, for sure, and I might be risking h.e.l.l.

If Uncle Bill could see me now, he'd tan my hide. Mother would likely faint dead away.

But I didn't care a whit about that.

All I cared about was how good those bosoms felt and how good Sue's hands were making me feel. n.o.body'd ever touched me down there, that was for sure.

Wh.o.r.e or not, Sue seemed just then to be the finest human being I'd ever encountered in my whole life.

Then she fetched me up a whack.

A quick, hard punch below decks.

I felt like my guts were exploding up through my stomach.

She scampered out of reach. I crumpled. My knees. .h.i.t the mud. As I clutched myself, I heard her call out in a rough whisper, "Ned! Bob!"

In a trice, the three of them were having at me. They trounced me good, but I got in a few licks. I caught Sue a good one on the chin, which pleased me greatly. All around, though, I took the worst of it.

They stripped me of my coat and shirt and shoes. But when they went for my trousers, I hauled out my knife and got the blade open right smart and split open the nearest arm. Don't know whether it belonged to Ned or Bob, but whichever, he let out a howl and scurried out of range.

I got to my feet and fell back against the wall and slashed at the fellows when they tried for me.

They grunted and cursed and leaped away from my blade.

"Come on, y' b.l.o.o.d.y swines!" I raved. "I'll rip your guts out! Come 'n' get it! I'll cut y' up for bangers."

Sue stood back, watching, hanging onto the booty.

I kept ranting and slashing.

Ned and Bob finally gave up trying for me. They backed off, huffing for breath, one of them clutching his gashed arm.

"Well, go in and get him, you fools," Sue said. "We ain't got nary a bob off him yet. He's got a pocketful of coins, he does, I felt them there."

They both looked at her.

"Well, go on!"

The one I hadn't cut took her up on it.

He came rushing at me, growling. He flung out an arm to block my knife. I went in under it. He slammed me hard against the wall.

My blade punched straight into his belly.

His breath gushed out, hot and stinky in my face.

For a while, he didn't move. I felt his blood pouring over my hand, running down my belly and soaking the front of my trousers.

Then he backed away. He slid off the blade. Clutching his stomach, he took a couple of steps. He sat down hard. From the splashing sound, he must've found himself a puddle.

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l," he muttered. "I've been killed."

Sue and the other fellow bolted.

I was alone in the alley with the man I'd stabbed. He was making awful sounds. Whining and moaning and crying.

"I'm sorry," I told him. "But you shouldn't have come at me."

"You gone and killed me dead is what you done."

"I'm awful sorry," I said. And I was.

He let out a bellow that curdled my blood. I ran. Not out into the street. That's where Sue and her confederate had gone. Instead, I dashed the other way, deeper into the black pit of the alley.