Chapter 5

At dawn the next morning Bailey was once more awoken by urgent hammering on his door. He staggered from his bed and opened the window.
“What is it?” he demanded blinking at the young man who stood there.
“If you please your honour, young Miss Sarah Tyler has gone missing!”
“Who?” Bailey squinted at the pale worried face then realising the import of what the man had said, he hurried to gather up his clothes, opening the front door and shouting at Arkwright who was still fast asleep on the couch.
“Wake up Joe, damn your eyes!” he shouted as he pulled on his breeches.
“What is it? What’s going on?” Arkwright peered at the young man in the door way.
“We’ve got a girl missing from the village!” Bailey replied. He pulled on his waist coat, ignored the buttons then ran searching for his stockings.
Arkwright, who had slept in his clothes, simply pulled on his coat and cap and was ready. He rubbed his brow as he examined the frightened face of the messenger.
“So who is it that’s missing?” he inquired.
“Sarah Tyler Sor” the lad replied. “Old Meg’s grand daughter.”
“Old Meg?” Arkwright muttered.
Bailey rushed back into the room, pulling on his coat.
“Come on then!” he shouted and pushed past them out into the rain. “It’s never raining again!” he cried.
Arkwright picked up Baileys hat where lay forgotten on the window sill, then followed the other two down into the village.
Already a crowd of around a hundred or so had gathered in front of the church, and there they met de Hogue and Melchior who were standing beside the Reverend Baxter. The priest saw them coming and held his hands up for silence.
“Here is Mr Bailey!” he called out. The crowd muttered and some even made disparaging remarks, but most looked to the magistrate’s man with expecting eyes. Bailey, some what surprised by this, made his way to the fore where his eyes fell on Old Meg’s worried face.
“Silence” he held up his hands at the many voices which began around him. He looked at Meg and said; “Tell me what happened.”
“It were last night” Meg replied. Standing in the rain, she still wore indoor clothing with a boat mans cloak pulled tight over her shoulders. Standing beside her was a young woman with a frightened face.
“Sarah had gone out to feed the goats and when she didn’t come back we went out to call for her. She weren’t there, but we found the feed bucket, and some thing had killed our old ram!” her voice broke and the young woman beside her made a move to comfort her.
Meg brushed her away and held her head high.
“I want my grand daughter found!” she cried in a loud voice. There was a murmur of assent from the group and Bailey turned to them and held up his hands again. After a few moments they fell silent, but their fear and unease was more than apparent.
“Alright.” Bailey shouted. “I want a line of men, and starting from the village, we will walk back along the island, for as long as it takes. Keep close to each other so nothing slips between you, and keep to the line. Don’t rush forwards, and don’t worry about stopping if you see something strange.” He waited for a few seconds but no one spoke.
“Now, get yourselves dressed properly, and if you have any guns, then bring ‘em. We start from here in ten minutes. Go!”
The crowd dispersed at once but for a few men who were already armed and dressed. One of these was Thatcher, he had stood silently at the back of the crowd, listening, and now he moved closer to where Bailey stood. In his hand he carried a long barrelled heavy bore musket, and tucked into his belt was a pair of pistols. Bailey watched him approach in silence.
“If this girl be dead” he spoke softly, with a side long glance at Old Meg. Then there’s summat more than just a simple killing been going on here.”
Bailey nodded.
Thatcher regarded the smaller man for a few moments before continuing; “Have thee sent word to the authorities in Chatham about this?” his eyes, pregnant with meaning, moved across Arkwright and Melchior.
“I have” Bailey replied calmly.
Thatcher saw the truth in Bailey’s eyes and sneered. He turned away, but then paused and looked back down at Bailey.
“Thee’d best tell ‘em again then hadn’t thee!”
Bailey ignored him but turning he met de Hogue’s eyes.
“We don’t know she’s dead yet.” De Hogue reminded him.
Bailey nodded sadly. Neither of them had much hope.
“This could have been avoided!” a voice spoke loudly. They turned to see the slight form of Jack Kirby who had arrived holding a fowling piece in both hands across his chest.
“How’s that?” Old Meg asked.
“If this ‘magistrate’s man’ had listened to Sam Harrow, then we wouldn’t be having to hunt down who ever was doing this!” he pointed with derision at Bailey as he spoke, and Bailey stiffened.
“Who is Sam Harrow?” he asked.
Thatcher stepped to Kirby, towering over the man, and grabbed his shoulder.
“Cut it out Jack” he growled.
De Hogue interjected; “Who is this man Harrow?”
Thatcher turned, still holding the shoulder of Kirby’s jacket. “He’s a sheep herder from the long end of the island. He was in the Old George last night tellin’ as how summat as been eatin’ is sheep.”
“No one told us this” Bailey complained.
“Where does he live, did you say?” de Hogue ignored Bailey. “Can you take me there?”
Thatcher nodded. “Aye”.
“Right. I’m going ahead to Harrow’s place” de Hogue told Bailey. “I’ll go and look around, and meet you on the way back.”
Bailey opened his mouth, but said nothing. He shrugged then nodded.“Come on then Bart Thatcher” de Hogue turned and started walking. “Let’s go for a walk, you and me.”