Page 2 of The Captain of Betrayal
On one particular day, the children had converged on the corner of nearby Newgate Street, which stood in the shadows of Newcastle Jail. The class from the Penny School had been joined by a gang of children of less fortunate circumstances and very soon trouble began to brew. It wasn't the usual sort of rowdy, high-jinx that could be laughed off, but a deeper, more sinister discord, stirred by two boys who were far older than the rest.
The two lads, both coated in the grime and dirt of the streets, had changed the atmosphere completely, turning gentle shoving and jostling into sharp digs and punches. The other children from the Penny School scattered at the turn of events, leaving Polly alone, encircled by a gang of very unfriendly faces.
"Aye up, lass," one of the older boys called with a jeer, "Do you think you can take us all on?"
"I know I can," Polly retorted boldly, despite the hammering of her heart within her chest. If Polly had one attribute it was that she was brave, though this bravery oft bordered on reckless.
The two older boys laughed as the diminutive Polly held up two fists, indicating that she wished to spar, though their laughter soon turned to howls of outrage when Polly delivered a sharp jab, which left one of the boys with a bloody lip.
"You going to let a lass beat you Billy?" an onlooker cried, causing Billy, of the bloody lip, to growl with rage.
"You little—" Billy grunted, throwing himself at Polly, who crumpled under the weight of him. Her ferocity and tenacity stood little chance against the boy, who was a good foot taller and a good stone heavier than her, and Polly quickly began to feel faint, as Billy rained punch after punch down upon her.
She had quite decided that she was a goner, when the entire weight of her assailant was lifted off her in one go. She watched, through swollen eyelids, as a dark haired boy threw Billy to the ground, fended off Billy's friend with a mighty punch to the stomach, and sent the entire crowd of onlookers scattering with a fierce roar.
Only when he was sure they were alone in the dank, cobbled street, did her rescuer turn to help her to her feet. It was James Black; who at eight was a good year older than Polly, and who had been somewhat of a mystery to the young girl since she had begun her lessons. Mrs Black's son usually held himself aloof from the other students of the Penny School, whether at his mother's instructions, or his own inclinations it was not clear. Now he stood over Polly, his dark hair hanging over his forehead and concealing his eyes as he held out a hand to help her upright.
"Thank you," Polly, who though somewhat in a daze still felt a twinge of bruised pride, said gruffly.
"You're welcome," there was an amused smile on James Black's face, as though he knew that his rescue niggled at his damsel in distress. "You probably would have managed to extricate yourself admirably without my intervention, but I thought that I would speed on the process."
Though Polly knew that James was teasing her, a smile broke across her face at his words--a smile that caused her to wince, for her lip was split and one of her teeth felt rather loose.
"Lud, you know some fancy words," she muttered darkly, glaring at him from beneath a swollen eyelid. "Though I suppose it can't be helped, what with your mother being a teacher of sorts."
"It is rather inescapable," James conceded, chivalrously.
The two stood in the street for a moment, eyeing each other, both a little wary of the sense of familiarity that their shared experience had brought.
It could have gone either way, due to Polly's volatile temper, but the young girl gave her new friend a broad--if slightly bloody--smile.
"What say I get us some apples," she declared, wiping her chin with the back of her hand, "As a way to say thank you."
"Do you have any money?" James asked astutely.
"No, but that's never stopped me a'fore."
Polly Jenkins linked arms with James Black and led him toward Haymarket and the farmers' carts, in what was to be the first steps on the road to friendship. From that day on, the pair were inseparable and spent every day, bar Sundays, in each other's company.
After lessons, they would roam the busy streets of Newcastle, from Amen Corner where ministers preached under the spires of St. Nicholas's, to the quay-sides, where drunken sailors fell in and out of taverns at all hours. Every nook and cranny of the city belonged to the pair and soon they felt they belonged to each other.
When Polly's mother passed from a childbed fever, after birthing a second daughter called Emily, it was James that Polly turned to for comfort. As well meaning neighbours kept a vigil in the Jenkins' tiny house on Strawberry Lane, Polly stole out into the darkness in search of her friend.
"I am all alone now," she whispered to the young James when she found him near the stables at Gallowgate. James responded with a clenched jaw and a fierce look, shaking his head as she spoke again. "What am I to do, now there is no one to look out for me but my Pa?"
"You're not alone," James whispered, his choked words barely audible above the dripping sound of rain on straw, and the soft whinnying of the horses from the stables within. "You have me. What am I if not your family?"
"You're not my family," Polly whispered back, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her grubby hand. "You're my friend, my best friend, but we share no blood."
This statement of fact flummoxed James into momentary silence, until a broad smile broke across his face.
"Here," he whispered, reaching into the pocket of his short trousers and extracting a small knife that he carted around for peeling apples and the like. "Give me your hand."
Polly watched transfixed as the dark haired boy took her hand and dragged the knife across her palm, leaving a small slash of crimson on her pale skin. With curious eyes, she watched as her friend did the same to his own palm, before grabbing her hand and holding it so tight that she could feel their blood mixing.
"There," James said with satisfaction after a moment, looking at her with a pleased expression in his deep brown eyes. "Now my blood is mixed with yours and yours with mine. We are family, do you hear?"
"I hear," Polly whispered, her grief momentarily forgotten at the idea that the tall, fearsome boy opposite her was now bound to her life forever.
