Cain His Brother - Anne Perry [107]
Monk reached the edge of the wall just as a second constable came behind him.
Caleb was on the steps, feet wide apart, balanced, laughing, his head thrown back. The constable was thrashing around in the water, sinking, dragged down by his boots and his heavy clothing.
“He’ll drown!” Caleb shouted, looking at Monk. “You’d better pull him out! You can’t leave him, Mr. Righteous!”
There was a barge about ten yards out, the first of a string moving slowly upriver with the incoming tide, low in the water, heavy with bales covered over with dark canvas. The bargee in the stern looked at the man in the water and threw his hands wide. He could not stop the impetus of his vessel. There were another dozen behind him, like railway carriages.
Monk hesitated only a moment. The constable was drowning. His face was white with terror. He had not the faintest idea how to swim and his own panic was killing him. There was a piece of timber lying on the edge. Monk threw it in and waited long enough to see it float.
The instant was enough. Caleb charged up the steps again, thrusting past him and onto the river wall, racing upstream towards the Artichoke Tavern fifty yards away.
The second constable arrived, swerving to go after Caleb and leave Monk to rescue the man in the water.
“Get him!” Monk shouted, jabbing his arm down the steps towards the water, and spun on his heel to run after Caleb.
The constable gasped, saw his colleague struggling, clasping for the wood, and swung around, plunging down the steps after him.
Monk sprinted along the hard pavement behind Caleb, who seemed to be veering away from the edge as if he would go around to the front of the tavern and the door. Why? Had he friends there? Reinforcements? He could hardly hope to hold off half a dozen police! There was no escape through the back—it fell sheer into the rising tide.
Monk was only fifteen yards behind him.
Then suddenly Caleb swerved again, turned on his foot and picked up speed, running straight towards the river. He was going to kill himself after all. He ran even faster and at the dock made an almighty leap. Only then did Monk realize what he meant to do. The barge was only twenty feet from the shore. He landed awkwardly, sprawled across the canvas, and all but pitched off the far side, but he was on it and already it was carrying him away.
With more rage than judgment, Monk backed off to give himself a launching distance, then in desperation leaped as well.
He landed with a numbing crash on the third barge. The breath was knocked out of him, and it was several seconds before he could even think to rise. When he did his hands were grazed and he found it hard to expand his lungs and gasp in the damp, darkening air. He could see the dim shape of the bargee, but he was barely aware of the sergeant on the river wall shouting and gesticulating, he was swearing wildly, his face contorted with fury. Certainly he did not even try to understand what he was saying. There was only one thought in his mind—get Caleb.
He straightened up and started to make his way forward, moving with his arms wide, keeping his foothold on the wet canvas with difficulty.
The barges were close, but there were still several feet of dark, filthy river water between the bow of one and the stern of another. If he fell he would be between the two, and would be crushed long before he could be drowned.
Caleb was on the lead barge, facing him, leaping up and down on the spot in mockery. He put his hands to his mouth to cup the sound.
“Come on!” he yelled. “Come and get me! Come on, Mr. Policeman! I killed Angus, didn’t I? I destroyed him! He’s gone forever! Finished! No more smart clothes, no more virtuous wife by the fireside! No more church on Sunday and ‘Yes Sir,’ ‘No sir,’ ‘Aren’t I a good boy, sir’!” He folded his arms across his chest, flat, hands down, then flung them wide. “Dead!” he cried. “Gone forever! You’ll never find him. Nobody’ll find him, ever!