The Two Confessions John Whitbourn (best books for students to read txt) 📖

those with him now hadjollied up his slower debtors back in the old days, in-between keeping Guildstewards quiet. Up above, the steam-engine artificer had been rescued fromtaking service with the Cairo Caliph, plucked off the very ship at Tilbury,just about to sail. Mr Jimmy Smith had worked wonders for Trevan before,setting up a munitions works from next to nothing, back when they'd not twopennies to rub together and everything was credit. Now the little cockney hadreadily forsaken taming the Nile floods in favour of reforging the old team. Itwas a sort of tribute: Trevan paid well, kept his word and was onlysemi-civilised. With him it was weariness, never boredom, that made waking up atorture. Trevan magicked mere business into adventure. That and a brand new 'Easton& Amos Drainage Engine', the renowned 'Drain-ace Mark II', toplay with, were worth missing the pyramids for.

Thatresponse was repeated time and again. Few turned him down - for he'd rarelyemployed pious types. Even the arid (but honest) old bookkeeper who now keptthe 'mine' accounts had hastened west when the call came.

Andif that exodus rang alarm bells with those who monitored Samuel's every move,he now had a patron to tranquillise their prying. They'd not dare move againstMott's covert blessing.

Anothercause for the engineer's disquiet was all the weapons. He saw no need forblades and guns where they were going, and he tried to put his foot down aboutfirearms under-earth, for fear of sparks or flame amidst foul air. But hisMaster wouldn't harken. There was compromise as far as 'just' flintlock pistols,not match-burning guns, but no further. True, tin levels weren't known fordetonation-gas, but it still went against all practice. The engineer weighed upthe risk against reflections on his most generous contract - and ate his nextwords. But he now brandished a caged songbird before him with especialvigilance.

‘MrTrevan, step forward if you please.’

Samuelcarefully brushed past the others to join the engineer at the front. Hisnail-shod boots failed to grip securely on the slick floor. There was theconstant temptation to veer to the sidewall for support, though once there itwas no great help. The surfaces were smooth and finger-grip free.

‘Whatis it?’ he asked.

‘Happenyou were right, sir. It's a queer do this place. Here's too broad and fair fora ventilation way. I don't see sense in making such a shallow audit neither,but there it is. She dips down, but so slight you'd barely notice 'less you'reattuned. This is a way forward.’

Samuelwas glad of it. He hadn't looked for such good fortune so early on. Some ofMott's 'volunteers' had accused him of over-subtlety in looking for a lessobvious start than opening the main entrance. That had been found early on, butprevious generations had shut it so snug you'd wake the dead in undoing theirwork. Samuel sarcastically suggested they blast their way in with cannon fire,and then see what came up to greet them. Then, whilst the soldiers silentlychewed on that he put forward his own plans - which were now vindicated.

‘Solet's go then,’ he said, and gestured the engineer forward.

‘Nopoint, Mr Trevan: not yet. We'll not get far. You can see the water level inthe main shaft. We're only a few yards above it. Like I said, this here walkwaydips. There'll be water ahead till you drain more.’

‘Proveit.’

‘Right.I see. As you wish.’

Theyshuffled forward, advancing the feeble pool of light shed by helmet candle and'glass-bubble' tar-torch. Samuel sensed the engineer's discomfort as hisprediction was postponed step by step.

‘There'sbeen water here - till our pumps started,’ he restated. ‘You can feel itunderfoot and on the walls.’

‘It'sdamper in my tent,’ joked one of Samuel's former enforcers. He was known forill-timed humour and the engineer was in no mood for it. This was hisworld down here and it wasn't behaving.

‘Well,happen you shouldn't piss in it then,’ he retorted. ‘You shall have all thewater you want soon enough: up to your damned neck and beyon-.... Oh….’

‘Whatis it?’ snapped Samuel, diving in on the hesitation just as he was about tosilence the stupid banter. He discreetly drew his seax knife.

Theengineer was slightly ahead and over by the tunnel wall. He was franticallyexploring it with outstretched hands. Trevan joined him and merged their privatespheres of light. He could see nothing untoward.

‘Isaid,’ he repeated, ‘what is….’

‘Dry!’whispered the engineer, puzzled and upset - and more to himself than in reply.‘Dry as a bone! You feel….’

Samueldid. It was.

‘Idon't get it,’ the engineer murmured on. ‘Something's held the water out, but Idon't see-....’

‘Youdon't need to,’ cut in one of Mott's men who had come forward. A charmless andsour-faced soldier, he gave the impression of having been around, seen a lot,and immunity against surprise. ‘You won't be able to see: but you can feel.’

Heheld his wiry arm out ahead.

‘Goon,’ he instructed, ‘feel!’

BothSamuel and the engineer gingerly extended their hands into the dark - and thensnatched them back as if burnt. Their hair rose, their skin crawled, as theyrecognised the touch of sorcery.

************

Whilstthings went weird underground, the proverbial bricks came through the upstairswindow as well. Samuel assumed the two were associated and acted accordingly.

Whensome stored spares for the steam pump were destroyed - with painstaking malice- Samuel put their replacements out on tempting show. Concealed snipers watchedday and night but no one came to claim the bullet they'd won.

Oneweekly payroll en route from the goldsmith's at Bideford disappeared off theface of the earth: coin, courier, guards, horses and all. Churls in an isolatedroadside hamlet claimed to have heard gunfire and cries about the right time,but hadn't cared to investigate. Samuel recognised he'd been robbed but not, hethought, betrayed by his own. Strings were pulled and Royal Dragoons combed thesurrounding area till civilian life ceased for a while. Plenty of crime wasuncovered: smuggling, fornication and witchcraft were brought to light, andsome people accordingly went galley-wards. But of Trevan's former property nosign ever emerged. He had to make good the shortfall from his own pocket andhenceforth had the chore of accompanying the convoy.

Thenthe Cymric bonded-labourers claimed to have seen ghosts flitting through thecamp and in the tunnels. A portion of them were so frightened as to