Marcus & Rikki - Part 2

 

We gathered the chains and fetters that were lying near the mattress and carried them to one of the central portholes on the starboard side. By now we became aware of the increase in temperature as the fire took hold and could taste the smoke that was seeping through the ship. There was also a new smell – petrol. The woman must have doused the length of the keel. In a few minutes we’d be cooked alive.

 

I took up one of the fetters and slammed the iron ball against the porthole. The glass cracked and it took another four or five attempts before it was sufficiently shattered for me to reach through with my arm. I’d noticed that each porthole was secured by two wing nuts on the outer side. Even though the ship was a replica, it retained the original’s restrictive features. The poor wretches who were abused aboard slave ships were rarely afforded the luxury of fresh air.

 

Rikki shouted: ‘Marcus - hurry! The smoke is becoming unbearable.’

 

I glanced at the port side of the ship and saw thick swirls of dark grey rising beyond the glass. I took hold of one of the thinner chains and threaded the end so that it was held in place by the metal wing. I pulled and made the chain taught. I told Rikki to hold the other end of the length of chain. ‘What do you want me to do ?’ she demanded. I answered: ‘We’re going to play a game of tug-of-war.’

 

On a count of three we pulled. I felt some movement from the porthole; the planking was surprisingly strong considering the ship had stood for so many years. We pulled twice more but the end of the chain released itself from the wing nut. The porthole remained intact.

 

Rikki gave me a fearful look. ‘The coffin’ I said.

 

The atmosphere was becoming stifling. I could feel my throat burning and my eyes sting. We lifted the coffin off its dais. Beneath the dais lay two blocks of wood as long and thick as railway sleepers.

 

‘Battering rams’ I said. ‘Grab the other end.’

 

It was our last hope of escape. We rammed the porthole several times before it fully dislodged, dropping over the side into the leaves below with a dull thump. The planks had shattered on impact but the gaping hole was big enough now to crawl through. The chain would be used as our climbing rope.

 

Rikki manoeuvred herself through the hole, clawing at the remaining planks, until she was hanging over the side. I tied the length of chain to one of the thick corner pieces of the ship and fed it through the gaping hole. ‘Grab it’ I said ‘and make your way down.’

 

I positioned myself near the corner piece and bore as much of her weight as I could. If she fell it was a drop of some twenty feet. But Rikki had youth on her side; I was confident she’d be able to shimmy down with ease.

 

A minute or two passed and the palms of my hands began to blister as I kept the chain taught. Then Rikki let go and I stumbled backwards. I regained my balance and shouted: ‘Rikki! Are you Ok ?’

 

At first I couldn’t see her. Then she emerged, crawling on all fours. She looked up and shouted: ‘Get out, Marcus! Hurry!’

 

For a moment I found myself rooted to the spot. The smoke was billowing now from the port side of the ship and, as I stared at the sheer extent of it, I found myself mesmerised by the dark, swirling mass that was shrouding the emerging daylight. I began to think about the body and how it needed to be preserved for identification. Was it Edward Brook’s brother ? Or lover ? Or partner ? I’d always felt that Edward’s sexuality had been somewhat ambiguous. Perhaps the boat had been turned into some sort of shrine. And yet the identity of the woman in the black dress continued to elude me. What was her role in the warped history of Brook House ? Was she Edward Brook’s daughter ?

 

‘Marcus!’

 

Rikki’s voice cut through the groaning of the ship as the hiss and fizz of the flames continued to consume the hull. I checked that the chain was securely tied to the wooden lintel and began to ease myself out of the hole we’d fashioned around the porthole. Rikki was constantly shouting now, telling me to tread carefully and grip the edge of the planks tightly as I shifted my weight and took hold of the chain. The morning light was more pronounced now but smoke had begun to seep up to the starboard side, attacking my eyes so that I had to close them as I made my descent. I felt confident after lowering myself the first couple of feet – after all, I’d practiced rope climbing as a squaddie. But soon the smoke and my blistered palms proved too much and I was unable to hold onto the chain any longer. I reached half way and fell.

 

The right side of my body took the full force of my fall but I remained conscious. I opened my eyes and saw plumes of smoke rising into the morning sky. At first, I felt no pain. Then, as I tried to move away from the ship, my body seemed to shut down, refusing to engage. I felt a searing ache in my shoulder which quickly spread through my body. Breathing was difficult; it was as though I’d been kicked and punched in my stomach and across my back. I tried to call Rikki’s name but no words left my mouth. I lay staring at the smoke-filled sky. The heat from the ship was intense.

 

Rikki took hold and began pulling me into the trees. I managed to glance back and saw her heaving with all her might, her hands digging into my underarms. Occasionally she stopped and leaned into my face. Her mouth was moving and her eyes looked like orbs of intense fear. I realised I wasn’t able to hear anything; I began to wonder if the strange state I now found myself was a prelude to death.

 

‘Marcus – can you move at all ? Can you use your arms or legs ? Marcus – can you hear what I’m saying to you ?’

 

No, it wasn’t a prelude to death after all. Slowly, I regained my faculties. I could hear Rikki, the crackle of flames, and the sound of falling timber as the fire gnawed at the ship’s hull. I looked at the sky and turned my head slightly to the left; now I could see the tip of the ship’s main mast groaning, about to fall.

 

Rikki pulled me further towards a cluster of trees. As my senses re-awakened my legs and feet dug into the soft damp soil and pushed my body along. We travelled ten or twenty feet in this manner before Rikki collapsed, exhausted.

 

‘The manor’ I said in a hoary whisper.

 

‘Marcus...thank god you’re able to talk’ Rikki said.

 

‘I saw her...the woman wearing the veil. She walked towards the manor...’  

 

Rikki crawled beside me. Even though we’d shielded ourselves among the trees and put some distance between ourselves and the fire, the heat from the ship was becoming intolerable. Still, the image of the woman continued to play on my mind. My determination to come face to face with her seemed to induce new reserves of energy. Holding on to a nearby tree trunk I slowly lifted myself to standing.

 

‘Help me walk towards the manor’ I said. ‘We need to find her before it’s too late.’

 

Rikki held me. My head was spinning and the flames were close to spilling over beyond the confines of the ship. I placed my arm around her shoulders and we staggered in the direction of the trackway, stopping for a brief moment as the mast collapsed onto the garden lawn. Edward Brook’s ship was now a cathedral of flame. And then a new thought expressed itself: was the body of Edward Brook being subjected to the same fate ?

 

We struggled through the trees and made our way towards the front entrance of the manor. As we neared I continued to regain my strength. The right side of my body was still painful – each step accompanied by an intense aching and soreness - but the thought of seeing the woman gave me purpose…carried me forward. The truth about Brook Manor was close at hand.

 

Rikki leapt ahead of me and tried to open the front door. ‘It’s locked.’

 

I peered through the bay window into the drawing room. The door was slightly ajar; everything looked to be in its place.

 

‘We’ll try the cellar door’ I said.

 

Rikki said: ‘Wait here. I’ll go.’

 

She ran towards the corner of the house before I could answer her. I followed, slowly, limping, using the window ledges as support. But I had to stop. I could hear the sound of liquid being poured in the reception area. The manor house was being doused with fuel.

 

Rikki re-appeared. ‘The cellar door is locked too.’

 

‘Get back’ I shouted. ‘She’s going to set the house alight.’

 

We scrambled across the lawn towards the first section of garden. I could see the ship ablaze, the flames reaching high into the trees. Then we turned and stood in the centre of the lawn, staring at the house.

 

She appeared at the window of the first-floor dining room and looked directly at us. There was a sadness about her; dressed in black, with her hands linked together, the lace veil covering her face – she looked like the doomed heroine from a nineteenth century novel. If I’d had the strength I would have run back and implored her to leave – told her that the years of abuse she had suffered and the deception she had undertaken would all be taken into account and perhaps forgiven.

 

Rikki, as if reading my mind, said: ‘She killed him, didn’t she ? She killed Edward Brook.’

 

‘Possibly’ I said, ‘But I fear we’ll never know.’

 

‘Can’t we do something, Marcus ? Can’t we at least try and help her ?’

 

I was about to say that in order to help someone, you had to be sure they wished to be helped. But at that precise moment a fireball exploded within Brook Manor. The sheer force of it was enough to shatter the ground floor windows, the powerful roar sending us scurrying towards the garden’s archway. We could see the flames take hold of the upper floors and a thick black, gaseous sludge began to seep through the roof. The upper rooms filled with smoke into which the woman disappeared.

 

Things happened quickly then. The emerging dawn was filled with the sound of sirens as fire engines, ambulances, and police cars arrived at the scene. The fire brigade pulled up close to the manor and quickly set about soaking the building with water and foam. Rikki ran to them, indicating there was a person inside. I sank to the ground amongst the commotion and held my head in my hands. The events of the night and the physical pain I was feeling suddenly conspired. I was exhausted - consumed by a sense of defeat – and angry too that I had been deceived to an extent I would not have thought possible.

 

‘Can you hear me ? Are you ok ?’

 

I looked up. Two paramedics were kneeling beside me on the grass. One had a large green medical bag; the other was unravelling a foil blanket.

 

‘I’m ok’ I said and realised I was shaking.

 

‘Put this over you and we’ll get you into the ambulance.’

 

The foil blanket was draped over my shoulders and I was helped to my feet. I saw Rikki giving a statement to the police, pointing this way and that, shaking and nodding her head. The two medics placed me on a gurney and I was lifted into the ambulance. ‘Here’ said one of the medics ‘take this.’ I began to chew on a red tablet and realised I’d been given some kind of vitamin shot. The doors slammed shut and the siren began to wail. That was how I left Brook Manor, unsure if I would ever return.