Turnpike Book 9 of The Education of Jonathan Riley Chapter 1 Fuckin' bloody typical, Surgeon's Mate Joseph Pike cursed to himself as he watched Lionel Thockmorton scramble into the jolly boat and take charge. Why did it have to be bloody Thockmorton? Pike sat scowling as the small boat was rowed towards the huge bulk of the Betelgeuse anchored a short distant away. That Lieutenant Crittenden would have been a better man for this sort of caper, Pike mused as he glared at Thockmorton. At least Mr C, as the crew liked to call him, had a head for skullduggery if half the rumours about him were to be believed. Pike was sceptical, but it never did to disregard anything you heard below decks. A man could garner valuable information that way. Yes, Crittenden would be the man for a job like this, but no doubt he had other work to keep him occupied. Other work that he was probably suited to even better. The jolly boat bumped against the hull of the Betelgeuse and Thockmorton stood unsteadily. "Come along Mr Pike. Let's get on with this. I do hope you know what you are doing." "Course I bloody do! You got the money?" Thockmorton rolled his eyes in that way that all high born buggers had a habit of doing and thrust a small silk purse into Pike's hands. It was heavy. "That�s twice what you said this would take. The remainder is to take care of the other matters." "It'll be fine, sir. Just remember what I told you to say and let me handle the rest. You're just here to lend some truth to it." They climbed aboard, reported to the quarterdeck and Thockmorton went into his role. He wasn't bad, Pike had to give him that much; asking for the surgeon with just the right inflection and a wink to the Sixth Lieutenant who was Officer of the Watch. No doubt the rest of the officers were still down in the great cabin celebrating with the various Admirals and Captains who had come aboard for the hanging. The surgeon himself was most likely there too, Pike reasoned. With any luck they would only have to deal with a mate like himself. They were taken below by a ship's boy who led them through the labyrinth of the man'o'war's decks. Pike hoped he wouldn't have to find his way back alone. This was by far the largest ship he'd been on and it was a little unnerving. It was one of the surgeon's mates who met them, a wizened little man much older than Pike. He didn't offer his name. "We wants a body!" Pike blurted out, jangling the purse. "Our Captain sent us. It's for a relative of his, a physician, like. Yer don't need to know no more." The mate looked them up and down, taking in the fine cut of Thockmorton's coat and his bearing. The aristocratic lieutenant chose just that moment to pull a lace handkerchief from his pocket and sniff delicately. "The Captain will be most appreciative of any help you can give us, my good man,� Lionel added sweetly. Pike watched as a small spark lit up in the mate's eyes. "Aye, come on in, then. I can fix yer up!" Inside, lying on the deck in an orderly line were the corpses of the mutineers. The first eight were already sewn into their sailcloth shrouds, although Pike suspected that if he was too peek inside the contents might be other than what was expected. The sale of bodies, particularly those of the condemned was a rife trade. Physicians and surgeons were more than happy to pay for the chance to poke about inside at their leisure. Pike scratched his nose thoughtfully. Truth was, he wouldn't have minded that chance himself. He looked at the remaining dead, waiting in a silent line for the sail maker to return and finish his grizzly work. Yes, there was Jack Kerrison, stiff and lifeless and for once without anything smart to say. It was a sobering sight. "That one. That one will do." The mate named the price and Pike counted out the coins before handing the purse back to Thockmorton. "Yer can't have the clothes! Surgeon's orders," The mate declared as he knelt and began tugging them off. Pike knew that was a lie; the man wanted them to sell for himself no doubt. Everyone was happy to make a penny from the dead. Of course if this had been a shipmate it would have been different. Fellow seamen were usually afforded greater respect in death, at least they were when there was the time for it. Many were simply tossed overboard in the heat of battle to get them out of the bloody way! But these men were unknowns, guilty of crimes against their officers and fellow crew. No one would much care what became of their remains. Officially they were to be buried at sea, but some would go to other ends. Dead is dead, Pike reckoned to himself, as he watched the mate strip Kerrison's body. Not an easy task now that it was stiffening. It would probably make no difference to bloody Kerrison where his mortal remains rested, but it would make a difference to someone. "Christ, look at this!" The mate held up Kerrison's wrist and a plait of red hair caught the lamp light seeming to gleam with a life of its own. "I reckon there must be a red haired doxy somewhere cryin' her bloody eyes out tonight!" "I reckon yer might be right," Pike said quietly. He cast a quick glance at Thockmorton, but the lieutenant stood looking detached and bored, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. The flickering of his right eye, told Pike it was a very good act. The mate raised a knife to cut the braid free. Pike stopped him. "Leave it. That Doctor is one of them odd ones...he looks into the ab-err-ations of the minds!" Pike said the word 'aberrations' slowly and carefully as one would when speaking of a miracle or something otherworldly. "I reckon he'd find that trinket bloody interesting. Probably fuckin' write about it, he would." The mate snorted, but put his knife away. "Yer reckon he'll cut open his head and see what his brain holds? I heard it said that a man's brain goes black like his heart when he sins?" Pike shrugged, "No bloody idea, and I doubt he'll ask me to help him even thought I'm going to all this fuckin' trouble for him." The mate pulled over another piece of sailcloth and handed it to Pike. "Help me roll him in this and we can stitch him up ourselves. Might save yer a bit of time." Pike turned to Thockmorton. "You go get the lads to bring the jolly boat around to the gun port just above, can't take him up on deck Sir." "Here, just a moment, won't the crew wonder why you have a body on your shoulder Mr Pike?" Thockmorton looked pale and Pike knew he was no longer acting. "I mean, they are bound to ask questions and if word of this gets out, all our careers will be in jeopardy." Pike set his face in a scowl but had to conclude that Thockmorton had a point. "No need to fret sirs," The older mate said with a sly look. "For a few pennies more I know just the ruse." He gave a knowing wink to Thockmorton. "Done it before you see! You go get yer lads ready at that gun port and leave the rest to us." "Us?" Pike didn't like the sound of that. More money changed hands and both the mate and Thockmorton disappeared leaving Pike alone in a cabin full of dead men. Nothing wrong with that of course; dead men couldn't give you cheek. Nor could they moan and call out for their mothers, begging for mercy. That was hard to take at times and it didn't do well for a man to ponder on it for too long. Some you could save and some you couldn't. That was the way of it. You did what you could and left the rest to the Almighty. In the end it was always up to Him as to who lived and who died. Pike had seen men with nothing more that a cut finger, die from poisoning to the blood. And others? Well if you wanted to see a miracle you need only look at little Mr Midshipman Charles Witherspoon! There was a lad who should surely be lying on the ocean bed, yet he clung to life like a limpet to a rock. One hand amputated, his hair burnt away, his ear blown off, horrific burns to half his body but he lived on. His mind was still there too, for by the time they reached Portsmouth he'd been awake enough to speak. His first and only words to Pike had been 'thank you'. The weak whispery voice, the small mouth twisted and pulled by the burns on his face struggling to form the words was almost enough to bring tears to Pike's eyes. The lad had courage, that much was certain. There had been a time, in the first days of their rescue when the Nightingale's Surgeon, Mr Dawson had thought to give the boy a strong dose of laudanum and save him further suffering, declaring he would die soon anyway. Probably keen to save himself the bloody work too Pike decided and he'd declared loudly that the boy's fate was in the hands of the Lord and he would tell the bloody Captain if the fuckin' Surgeon thought otherwise. He'd promptly set himself up as Witherspoon's guardian, not leaving his side other than to see to necessity. Perhaps his faith in God had been rewarded, for young Mr Witherspoon was still recovering in the Portsmouth Naval Hospital. "Here yer go then, get 'im into this." The mate had returned and handed Pike a garishly bright red dress and a blanket. "You shouldn't have any trouble." Pike just stared, unable to fathom what the mate intended. With a roll of his eyes the small man explained. "Dress him in this, wrap him in the blanket then carry him out. If anyone asks, just say he's one of the doxies who passed out and yer taking her back to shore so yer don't have to pay her." "But the fuckin' crew'll know I'm not one of them!" The whole ploy sounded bloody ridiculous! "Course they will yer daft bugger, so yer tell 'em yer belong to the barge crew of one of those Captains who have come aboard. Hell, yer can even tell 'em yer taking her," he gestured at Kerrison's body "back to yer mates so they can have a fuck too!" "Well if you think it will work?" Pike was sceptical. In due course Jack Kerrison was dressed in red, his hair loosened and his stiffening body wrapped in the blanket so that his face and upper half was hidden. Pike hefted the weight over his shoulder and followed the mate to the lower gun deck. There were women aplenty here, but most of them were warm and active. Very active Pike noted taking in the various acts of fornication taking place around him. "Over there," the mate said, indicating a gun port that stood open. "Yer on yer own now." With a hearty slap to Pike's back the small man disappeared. Pike set his shoulders, stepped over an unconscious seaman and made his way to the port. "Here, who are you and what are yer doing?" asked a rating who lounged against the gun chewing tobacco. He was an older man, battle scarred but keen eyed. "I'm Smith," Pike muttered, "From Cap'n Crane's barge crew." Might as well involve that bastard of a Captain who had upset Mr Riley so.  "Just taking her out for the lads to have a bit of fun with." "Yeah? She drunk or what?" The faded blue eyes settled on Kerrison's ankles. "Aye passed out she did, so she won't mind who fucks her or where!" "Mind if I have a turn before yer go, then? I'll give yer some tobacco to make it worth yer while?" The man had rose to his feet and ran his hand up Kerrison's calf. Pike closed his eyes. "CHRIST ALMIGHTY! She'd DEAD!" The seaman pulled his hand away as if he'd been burnt. "Er yeah, yer see, she was in with the officers, fucking away and she died. At least that's what Cap'n Crane told me." Pike leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Yer know how those Gentlemens have queer ways and all, no telling what they were doing with her." He looked around to see if they were being overheard. "Cap'n said I should get rid of her ashore. It don't look good for the Admiral to have a bloody dead doxy in his cabin." "Admiral's doxy then, was she?" Pike shrugged. "Wouldn't bloody know. I reckon they all had a shot at her." "Wouldn't mind having a shot at an admiral's woman meself,." the rating said, head tilted, hand scratching his chin. "What do yer say? She's not that stiff yet. It would only take a bloody minute.� "Well I don't know," Pike began. Before he could refuse the seaman gestured to another rating nearby and beckoned him over. "Pete 'n me 'll help yer get her out and keep quiet, won't we Pete." Pete had one good eye and dribbled from the side of his mouth. "You want a go of the Admiral's dead doxy Pete?" Pete nodded vigorously showering Pike with spittle. "Just lay her down there and lift her skirts, no need to unwrap her." Several other tars now wandered over and one was peering at Kerrison's long hair where it hung down from the blanket. "I always thought an Admiral would go for one of them fair haired girls, this one's mousey." "Let's see her Bert," someone else said. "Forget her fuckin' face, I want to see her..." "Fuckin� bloody hell," Pike muttered as his burden was taken from him and laid on the deck. There was a certain irony in the turn of events; that men were still after Kerrison's arse even when he was stone cold dead. Pike waited for the inevitable. "Holy Christ! She's got a bloody great PRICK!" Pike almost laughed when he looked down at what had been revealed. Oh yes, Kerrison would be laughing wherever he was, Heaven or Hell, for even in death he was not a man to lie down and be ignored. Around him the gathered seamen were staring, shocked by their discovery. It was the old rating who finally declared, "I don't think this is a woman, I think it's a lad with a set of balls and all!" "We can bloody see that!" another muttered. "So what's he doing in a dress?" one asked. They all turned to Pike who shrugged and tried to look surprised. "Them Officers have some strange ways. I always said so!" There were mutterings of agreement. "Whatever they were bloody doing to him, it looks like he was enjoying it," someone said and again there were murmurs of confirmation and a few ribald suggestions as to what exactly Kerrison had been engaged in before his untimely death. "This will be a fine tale to tell yer mates, I reckon," Pike said with a wink and watched the resulting looks on the seamen's faces. He smiled to himself as he watched two or three rush off to be the first to spread the scuttlebutt. Seamen loved to gossip! Pike took the opportunity to wrap Kerrison up again and hoist him back onto his shoulder. "Best get him over the side and ashore before the Admiral gets word of this. I don't fancy a floggin'" More murmurings and eager hands to help as Pike scrambled through the gun port to the waiting jolly boat. The seamen waved him off and Pike finally turned to face Thockmorton. The lieutenant�s face was flushed red. "Mr Pike, I do hope you have a good explanation as to why the late Mr Kerrison is wearing a dress?" "Yes, I do Sir, but I don't think yer want to hear it." Thockmorton shook his head. "Not at the moment. Break out the cutters sail and wrap Mr Kerrison's body in that. He deserves some dignity." Pike felt chastened by the lieutenant's words. He cut the red dress away and wrapped Kerrison in simple sailcloth. He was amazed by the lack of surprise on the faces of the crew of the jolly boat. Hand picked men no doubt, told to expect the unexpected and never to question their officers. And in the midst of them was young Ben Fowler, too dim to watch out for himself and lucky to still be alive. Pike shook his head when he saw the tears in the boy's eyes as he bent his back and pulled on the oars. That Jack Kerrison had a lot to answer for! Chapter 2 They walked through the streets of Portsmouth untroubled by stares or whispers. Perhaps they didn't look that odd after all, Pike decided as he hitched Kerrison's body a little higher on his shoulder. "I think we should get a cart." Thockmorton declared. He seemed to be in a bit of a bother. Body snatching did not come easily to him. "It would be useless to try to reach Havant tonight, it's nearly dark. We must wait and start early tomorrow." Throckmorton looked around, hands fidgeting. "You must stay with...er...Mr Kerrison's remains tonight. We can put it, er...him in the back of the cart and stable it at an inn. That should work!" Pike wished he had a hand free to scratch. A cart was hired, an inn was found. Pike was left to stand vigil over Kerrison's corpse whilst Thockmorton retired to the dining room and the comfort of a soft bed. A whore too, no doubt Pike mused as he gnawed on a bacon bone. Supper had been brought out to him and he was hungry. He dipped his bread into the salty soup and sucked it noisily by the warm glow of a small lantern. Yes, Mr Thockmorton would probably be having a fuckin' fine time tonight whilst he was left to talk to a bloody dead man! Pike shivered, it was chill in the stable. His eyes wandered to the shapeless bundle in the cart. Probably just as well that it was winter and bloody cold. At least Kerrison would keep until they were done with him. For a moment he wondered why he was going to all this trouble. It wasn't for money, there'd been no mention of that. Both the lieutenants had simply assumed Pike would help and had included him in their foolhardy plan. Perhaps it was their acceptance of him that caused Pike to ignore his first impulse to tell them to go fuck themselves and instead agree to help with their outrageous idea. It might have something to do with Mr Riley too, Pike conceded. Too soft for his own good, that one. Brave and foolhardy; ready to stand up for anyone weaker. Mind you, he probably needed someone to stand up for him, Lord knows he'd got into enough strife already. He had a weakness too, that one. A weakness that had no place aboard ship, leastwise not if you didn't have the sense to keep quiet about it. But Mr Riley was like a bitch in heat, sniffing it out and rolling over here and there. There was a lot of talk about him, talk about what happened on the Mistral with Mr Kennedy. Pike narrowed his eyes. It was that bloody Mr Kennedy's fault! He was to blame, corrupting the lad like that when he should have known better. And bloody Jack Kerrison had just made it worse! Jack could never keep his breeches buttoned, on shore or at sea. Ashore was no problem, they all went wild when they had the chance, but at sea you had to learn to do without it. Most could, some couldn't. Some turned to their mates out of sheer desperation and there was no harm in that, provided they were both agreeable. But the others, the ones like Mr Kennedy, they liked it best and forgot about women all together. Mr Crittenden and Captain Bell were like that too if you believed the rumours, but that was something the crew of the Nightingale seemed happy to overlook. Those two never went for the ship's boys or the young gentlemen. Not like Mr Kennedy and Jack Kerrison. That was where the harm of it lay and that was why they had the Articles! Pike had been called upon to tend too many youngsters who'd been led into things they'd had no business trying but the silly little fools never realised that until it was too late. Boys like Ben Fowler who never had the sense to say no or put up a fight. Boys who could be intimidated by older men, bigger men or others who simply suffered from a misguided case of hero worship and thought the sun rose and fell in young lieutenants with angelic looks or quick tongued master's mates who liked to swim. Yes, Jack Kerrison had an eye for the boys and young Mr Riley hadn't been the first nor the last. Pike's thoughts turned to Ned Grayson and he wondered again how Jack Kerrison could have been party to what was done to the youngest midshipman. Mr Ned Grayson had been a spiteful little bastard, but he didn't deserve what those buggers had done to him. The Lord only knew what would become of the boy now, for he didn't seem quite right. Pike had tried to help him after they were taken aboard the Nightingale. He'd found him sitting in the Mid's berth, crouched in the corner, glassy eyed and vague. There had been nothing he could do for the lad who flinched away and had refused to look at him. But he'd hunted up a tabby kitten and taken it back to Grayson. Pike hoped it had brought the lad some comfort. He was unsure of what had driven the men who had molested Ned Grayson. Was it drunken rage, lust, revenge, or just a plain old liking for violence? Whatever it was Jack had been in on it when he should have had more sense. Jack didn't deserve what Mr Riley had done for him, risking his own career by speaking out like that when Kerrison had such a grave sin on his soul. And now the lad was most likely breaking his heart and falling into someone else's arms for comfort. Pike hoped that Lieutenant Crittenden would have the decency not to take advantage of his weakness and grief. But the memory of red hair around Jack's wrist suddenly rose up like an uneasy spirit and it gave Pike pause. Perhaps there had been more to Kerrison's relationship with Mr Riley than Pike understood? Pike rose and crossed to the cart. For a long time he simply stared at the still form before carefully unwrapping the sailcloth. He peeled back one corner, slowly revealing Kerrison's pale body. Thin now, he'd lost weight during his incarceration. But there was still the echo of strength about his long wiry form. The plait of red caught Pike's attention again. That said something, something powerful about what Mr Riley had meant to Jack Kerrison. Carefully Pike raised the lantern and closely examined the chilled flesh, his eyes darting here and there, looking for something, not quite sure what, but something that he felt would be there. He spied it, small and spidery on Kerrison's inner thigh, all but hidden in the shadow between his legs. JR. The initials were unmistakable. Jack Kerrison must have thought a lot of Jonathan Riley to put up with the pain a tattoo like that would have cost him. Intimate, that's what it was. More intimate than some tattoo's Pike had seen. Names tattooed on seamen's chests and arms; meant to be seen, to be envied, worn like a boast. But this was different. Kerrison's tattoo was something secret between lovers. Lovers...the word itself was not one Pike would usually apply to such a relationship. Suddenly Pike was glad he had agreed to be a part of this. He looked at Kerrison's discoloured face, lifeless and dead, then to the limp dirty brown hair. He drew the small knife that he wore on his belt and cut a chunk free. "Rest easy Jack. He'll be all right." Feeling suddenly foolish, Pike pulled the sailcloth back in place and sat down again in his nest in the straw. He had often watched the ratings do things with rope, but it was a skill his own thick fingers had never mastered. Still, he could plait, for Mr Hepplewhite liked to wear his hair that way and thought nothing of asking the mates or loblolly boys to play servant for him. The greasy brown strands obliged by staying in place and Pike tucked the finished product into his coat pocket.   Chapter 3. Havant was a pretty place, and Pike had taken great delight in the journey there. The horse and cart were comfortable, a fact he had reminded Thockmorton of several times during the journey. Thockmorton had thought otherwise. Now he waited quietly while the lieutenant spoke to the sexton. More money exchanged hands and gravediggers were sent for. As they waited, the sexton took the opportunity to provide his visitors with a guided tour. He was obviously a man who took pride in his work, Pike decided as he listened to the tales of each freshly dug grave. "And this here is Mrs Minerva Riley, died three weeks ago of a broken heart. Her son was lost at sea!" Pike looked at the hard earth, heaped up untidily and thought of the irony. "Broken heart you say?" Pike couldn't help but ask. The sexton nodded solemnly. "Yes, but therein lies the tragedy, for it seems her son was not dead after all and has returned hale and whole." They all tut-tutted. Next to Minerva Riley's grave were three tiny plots. "Babes," the sexton exclaimed, "Lost in the depths of winter." Next to those the gravediggers were busy with the hard earth. Close, but not too close. It met with Pike's approval. "And now sir, if I may have the deceased's name for our records?" Once again Pike let Thockmorton do the talking. He really was quite good at bending the truth when he had too. "John Kerrison, aged 20. Died yesterday. A rupture, the surgeon said. He was a seaman who had just been put ashore." The sexton waited expectantly for more information. "A good man, he saved my life once so I am indebted to him, you see." Lionel handed over another coin. "I know this is a little out of the ordinary but I am very grateful." The money or perhaps the extra information that the man could used to entertain his next visitors seemed to satisfy the sexton and he turned his attention to the matter at hand; the burial of Jack Kerrison. The words did not matter, they were functionary and little more. The gravediggers loitered nearby like expectant vultures. As the sexton's voice rattled on Joseph Pike said his own prayer. He hoped he remembered the words. Gentle Jesus meek and mild, look upon your precious child... Chapter 4 They returned to the Nightingale late that evening. Pike was pleased when Mr Dawson, the ship's surgeon, said he could have shore leave the following day. Bloody earned it, Pike muttered to himself. He stood on the darkened deck, dreaming of what he would do on the morrow. There was a woman he knew in Southsea, a young widow who worked as a housekeeper. She was a decent woman but not above giving a man a bit of what he needed. Perhaps he'd pay her a call. Pike was roused from his reverie by a hesitant voice beside him. "Mr Pike?" Bloody Mr Riley, looking like a dead man himself. His eyes were ringed with dark shadows, his lip looked as if it had been bitten. His nose was red from crying. "Aye?" "Mr Pike, I owe you an apology. I reacted very badly towards you yesterday. I know you were only offering me help. Please forgive me." Riley ended with a quick breath that sounded like a sob before continuing. "I want to thank you also for what you have done today. Peter told me and...well�I can not find the words to tell you what it means to me. Thank you." Pike softened and smiled. He was tempted to reach out and ruffle the red curls that were all awry, as one would with a child, but doubted the gesture would be welcomed. "I'm pleased I could help. Jack Kerrison was a good man, a good mate. He'll be missed." Pike rummaged in his pocket and withdrew the straggly plait. He held it out towards Riley and watched the blue eyes widen in surprise. "I found this in his pocket. I reckon he meant for it to go to you, seeing as how he had its mate around his arm. Do yer want it?" "Oh yes." Riley took the braid and reverently held it in his hand. "Thank you Mr Pike, thank you so much." "No trouble. I was happy to do it." Pike replied. And he was. The End Revised 2009