A Sense of Justice

Chapter 3

3

PORTSMOUTH, mid-afternoon, 11th October 1867‘Righto laddie,’ the loud, demanding voice of Hawkins boomed as he threw open the cell door and entered Harry’s filthy domain. ‘C’mon, I want yah arse out of here, you’re goin’ places. Strip off those rags yah wearin’ then grab yah belongin’s. You’re first off to the ablutions block where I’ll see to it yah get a good hosin’ down… from head to toe. Well come on, look lively and don’t be shy; get naked, son!’

Having stood under a blast of near-freezing water for just a few minutes Harry’s skin tingled from the effects of the coarse towel he had been supplied to dry himself with, the relentless parasitic itch that usually inhabited every nook and cranny of his body had now blissfully ceased. He felt exhilarated. And as he flung his long, damp hair back across his head, he also felt gratitude: for the first time in months, his hair didn’t stink or feel greasy. As Harry exited the cold ablutions block, he experienced an almost forgotten pleasure from that which came from good fitting footwear, and clean dry clothes.

But of course, there had to be one dissenter during the prisoner pre-departure communal ablutions chore… Brickie! He had initially made a fuss at being asked to wash, and promptly, in a great display of bad temper hurled the contents of his washbasin over one of the guards. He then threw a block of soap at another guard, scoring a direct hit to the poor man’s eye. His ongoing barrage of expletives and lack of cooperation only relented when the guards dragged some huge, high volume sluice hoses into the ablution block.

‘Righto Harry, the wagon’s this way,’ Hawkins instructed, his previous gruff voice replaced with sociable camaraderie. ‘And I’ve got some good news for yah, lad.’

‘Pray tell, what’s that? Perhaps your mates intend to drown Brickie with those hoses… that’d be really good.’

‘Nah, better than that. It seems the ‘onrable citizen as what dobbed yah in took a terrible hidin’ a few nights back. Damn nearly killed the bastard I believe.’

‘Bloody hell, who’d do that sort of thing?’ Harry chuckled cynically. ‘Mind you, it sounds a bit like payback to me.’

‘I ‘aint sayin, but the Guv’s been known to move in mysterious ways.’

Both men laughed jovially then continued their walk side-by-side to the waiting wagon that would deliver Harry and the other prisoners to the docks where the Hougoumont was berthed.

Harry stopped walking and lightly grabbed Hawkins by the arm. ‘Yah know what Hawkins? When we first met and ever since, I absolutely hated your guts. But you’ve changed a lot since I had that last meeting with the Governor. In fact, you’re not such a bad bastard after all. You’ve taught me just about everything there is to know about animals and farming… and well, I’ve come to trust you. Your unexpected news is therefore most welcome: it sort of squares the ledger, so to speak.’

‘It does indeed,’ Hawkins quietly replied as they continued their walk. ‘Well lad, ‘ere we are. I’m sorry, but I must cuff yah and fit yah with leg irons when yah get inside the wagon. Them’s the rules. Don’t worry; they’ll not be too tight.’

‘Thanks Hawkins, you’re only doing your job. I hold no grudges my friend. You know, I think I’m actually looking forward to what beckons.’

‘That’s good because most prisoners usually start blubberin’ or screamin’ revenge at this stage.

‘Anyway, here, don’t forget yah bag and the fifty pennies yah’ve got tucked away in there.’

‘Eh?’ replied Harry, astonished. ‘What fifty pennies? How’d you know I had any money in there?’

‘That’s for me tah know an’ you tah guess, Harry. Most irregular, eh?’

Both men smiled as understanding dawned on Harry’s face. They firmly shook hands both knowing they’d never meet again, but thankful they had. ‘Thanks again, Hawkins.’

‘Good luck, lad. Look after yahself, an’ keep yah nose clean… if yah know what I mean, eh?’