‘Tell Janssen to throw her over the side if he must. I want to set sail tonight,’ ordered Hawkins.
But it wasn’t just one old lady Janssen had to contend with: Mr Sharp and party had arrived, swarming up the rope ladder before anyone could stop them. Mr Sharp now appeared on the steps leading down to the main deck, waving a piece of paper, Frank, Charlie, Lizzie, the duchess, Miss Miller and Mr Equiano all behind him. Pedro lifted his head, hope in his eyes. Hawkins dropped his glass. It smashed on the deck, leaving a stain like blood on the planks.
‘Mr Hawkins,’ called out Mr Sharp. ‘Mr Kingston Hawkins! I have here a writ against you for the immediate production of one Pedro Hawkins, late of Drury Lane. According to this, you have no right to remove the boy from England against his will.’
‘Janssen!’ roared Hawkins. ‘Throw them off this ship!’
The captain stumped forward, his face pale with anger. ‘I can’t, sir. They’ll never let me dock again if I ignore this. It’ll ruin business. For God’s sake, it’s only one slave.’
‘Only one slave!’ bellowed Hawkins. ‘This is about more than the boy – it’s about what’s mine and what isn’t.’
‘Exactly,’ said Mr Equiano triumphantly, ‘and the law says that Pedro isn’t yours to take away against his will.’
Hawkins turned on the African. ‘Shut your mouth, negro. I don’t listen to the likes of you.’
‘Well, you should,’ said the duchess, sweeping across the deck towards him, impressive in her ermine-trimmed, salmon pink cape. ‘Let the boy free or you’ll be sorry.’
Hawkins gave her a humourless smile. ‘Sorry to disappoint a lady and all that, but I know I’ll be even sorrier if I let him go.’
‘But you must, man,’ reasoned Mr Sharp. ‘Your captain can’t sail with him on board.’
Hawkins bowed his head for a moment, thinking as he fiddled with the top of his cane.
‘All right,’ he said at last. ‘All right, habeas corpus: you can have his corpse!’ With a ringing sound, he pulled his sword from his stick and raised it to stab Pedro in the heart.
‘No!’ screamed Lizzie. A whole deck stretched between Mr Sharp’s party and Pedro. I was the only one within reach. I grabbed the first thing that came to hand – a mop – and leapt from my hiding place, planting myself in front of Pedro to parry the blow. The stroke cut into the wood and stuck there, point towards my chest.
‘Cat!’ shouted Pedro. Lizzie screamed again.
‘Not you!’ hissed Hawkins. His blue eyes burned with hatred as he bore down on me. ‘I’ll kill you!’ He pushed towards me, driving the blade closer. I was no match for his strength. But as the point pricked my throat, a flat disc flew out of the air from behind me and struck him on the forehead. He reeled, giving me time to execute Syd’s emergency manoeuvre. Hawkins received a kick to his privates that brought tears to his eyes, the first he’d probably ever shed. That was enough – Frank and Charlie were on him, wrestling him to the floor. Mr Sharp and the duchess stood between Hawkins and the other gentlemen as they moved to his aid.
‘You really don’t want to cross the Duchess of Avon,’ she said, raising her fan threateningly at Dr Juniper. ‘Or you’ll be black-balled from every club in St James.’
Mr Equiano disarmed Hawkins, throwing the swordstick into the river. He then searched his pockets for the key to free Pedro from his chains.
‘You’ll regret this!’ hissed Hawkins.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Mr Equiano, unlocking Pedro’s neck collar. ‘We’re free men – we’re not afraid of you, Hawkins.’ Mr Equiano then wrapped his cloak around Pedro and led him away from the mast, stepping on Hawkins in the process – doubtless by accident.
I meanwhile had retrieved the disc that had saved my life and took it back to its owner.
‘A neat throw, Pedro,’ I said, holding it out to him. ‘I don’t think Mr Wedgwood had thought of that usage when he made it, but it was certainly effective.’
‘I just hope I’ve permanently stamped the message on his forehead,’ Pedro replied with a shaky smile.
He reached out and took my hand fast in his, our palms wrapped around the medallion. He then pulled me towards him and hugged me tight. I was in tears; from the heave of his shoulders, he was too.
But we weren’t safe yet. We were still on board a slave ship that was about to set sail, heavily outnumbered by a hostile crew.
Frank and Charlie got off Hawkins and moved to join us. We formed a circle, Pedro in our midst.
‘What now?’ I asked Mr Equiano in a low voice. Hawkins had got up and hobbled over to rejoin his friends and Captain Janssen. They now entered into a hasty conference. It looked as though they were planning a counter-attack. Moments later, Janssen stepped forward.
‘This is my ship. I cannot have you man-handling my passenger like that,’ he declared.
‘Of course, captain,’ Mr Sharp said politely. ‘But I cannot have him flouting the law. Now we have Pedro, we will disembark and leave you in peace.’
‘No one’s getting off. We’re cleared to sail and I’m not going to miss this tide.’ Janssen gave a nod and the sailors leapt up the rigging to unfurl the canvas.
Mr Sharp and Mr Equiano exchanged worried looks.
‘Don’t be ridiculous – put us ashore, man,’ boomed the duchess.
‘Of course, ma’am – as soon as is convenient. Gravesend, or maybe Portsmouth.’
I glanced fearfully at Pedro. I didn’t fancy our chances of getting free if the Phoenix left the Thames.
‘There’s a boat approachin’, captain,’ called a sailor.
My hope rekindled. Surely by now it would be Syd’s gang or Mr Jones and the men? Janssen must have thought the same thing.
‘I’ve no time to take on more passengers. Weigh anchor!’
‘Aye aye, captain.’