THE DEPRIVED... Chapter 2... Part 26.

A continuation of my book.

Kilpatrick walked at a fast rate, bullying his way through the crowd with Beth trotting to keep up. The Mudlarkers had rushed ahead, hooting and hollering as they dived down small alleyways and short-cuts so that by the time the rest of the crowd got there the Mudlarkers were already wading out into the shallow waters and taking whatever they could lay their hands on from the stricken barge. A group of the larger vagabonds had struck down the sails from the mast, tearing at the material and carrying it away. By the time the majority of the crowd had reached the holed barge most of its cargo had been taken and it was not long after that there came the blast of whistles, shrilling above the noise of the crowd, as the police joined by the crew and the private force employed by the owners of the lighter-ship arrived, beginning to detain some of those who had goods in their hands and stretching them out on the bogged shore with their hands tied behind their backs.
“What will they do with them?” asked Beth.
She and Kilpatrick had arrived too late for the piracy and he had sat Beth down on one of the lower dock walls before seating himself alongside her as they watched the scene stretched out below.
“What will happen to those who have been caught?” asked Beth.
Kilpatrick chewed on the inside of his cheek for a while before answering.
“I suspect some of them will be birched or flogged in the square for public amusement, especially the young ‘uns, them Mudlarkers. Others will be taken away and stuck in Newgit clink for many a year.” he replied.
They sat perched on the edge of the dockside wall and watched as a tug lay to anchor at midstream, in wait till the tide rose the river enough that it could pull the lighter-ship from the wall and away to be put to rights with a full mast and sail.
The watchmen stood with clubs and rattles at the ready, though this did not seem to stop the Mudlarkers from coming out from the sewer mouth as a wash of excreta and debris sluiced its foul smelling run down into the water.
“What are those people doing?” asked Beth as she watched the small figures running through the body-soil, some completely naked.
“They’re raking through the muck and filth of body-soil. Them young ‘un are seeking whatever’s been lost or thrown from buckets and from the privies, them cesspits which overflow and run down here into the river.”
Beth shook her head as she watched the figures far down below, up to their wastes in the filth.
“I suppose we all has to make a living Beth, one way or another.” said Kilpatrick. “Whether it’s raking through the muck like them as doing below or, like me, finding bits of work in Spitalfields Market and taking a few tatties to keep me skin together. We’re all God’s creatures and has to get by.”
Below, those who had been caught and tied were herded together and now marched up to the steps by guards who cracked whips and aimed clubs. By now the tide had begun to swell the river so the Mudlarkers retreated back into the old sewers as the waters of the River Thames began to turn brown, the tide bringing back the sewage from its rise and fall.
Kilpatrick rose.
“Come on young ‘un. There aint nothing to be gained from being here unless you wants to catch the cholera which is the blessing of those who wants to die. But we aint that foolhardy ‘cause we’ve got us a lot of living to do.”
Beth rightly agreed with the tall tough man about a lot of living and cupped her hand in his.
“Yes.” she agreed. “It’s best we go back. Mammy and Sam will be so worried about us.”
“Not yet, young ‘un. First we’ll go to old Levistien’s place and buy some strong covers with the money your mother gave me. Old Levistien the Jew buys and sells all manner of things. He goes round the posh houses and gets the cast-offs, which is took on a quiet time from the knobs by the servants and sold to him cheap and he sells them to the likes of us at a fair price.”

Old Levistien's shop was the front room of his house. The room was taken up by clothes hanging from hooks which took up every conceivable inch of the ceiling. Kilpatrick and Beth had to fight their way through the hanging shawls, skirts, coats and britches as they entered the room.
“Hallo, is anyone there?” called Kilpatrick.
There was no answer.
“No-one’s on the busy here.” said Kilpatrick in a loud stage whisper, winking a fierce grey eye at Beth.
“We can hook a few bits of the gear while no-one’s about. Quick young ‘un, hide some of the stuff under your skirt!”
“What do you want?”
As if by magic, Old Levistien suddenly appeared, pushing the clothes away from a white-haired  whiskery face, the hair continuing to shag itself around his head and crowned atop by a white caplet.
“What we wants is your happy service for me and the young ‘un here.” said Kilpatrick in an affable voice.
“Oh, it’s you.” he said, seeing the tall man through the clothes.
“We want some business here.”
“You have monies?”
Old Levistien eyed Kilpatrick suspiciously.
“I aint in here and begging for charity.”
This time Kilpatrick put some mettle in his voice, the Irish brogue heavy with threat. Old Levistien vanished back among the clothes for an instant before pushing his way through the clothes. Kilpatrick winked hugely at Beth and she tried to hide a laugh as she saw the old man come into view, holding a hand up to her face and coughing. Old Levistien had been standing on a box and hid by the clothes with only his head showing so that he appeared to be much taller than the small bent frame he now presented after coming down from the box.
“What is it you want?”
“What I want from you is a flounced and pretty skirt for this young ‘un here and a fitting shawl. Then I’ll be obliged to buy the same in bigger company for her mother.”
Old Levistien eyed Beth with a sharp eye, gauging her size then vanished among the forest of clothes.
“This is what you want?”
“Will they fit your frame, young ’un?” asked Kilpatrick, taking the clothes from the old man and holding them up against Beth.
Beth touched at the material, feeling the fine of the fabric and quickly took the clothes.
“That’s it Beth, slip among the clothes and change into the skirt and hang the shawl round them shoulders of yours.”
While Beth put on the skirt Kilpatrick wandered among the clothes and choosing a same in larger build for Mary.
“Sam will love those.” said Beth, taking up a pair of britches and jacket.
“A proper little gentleman is what the young ‘un will be.” announced Kilpatrick as old Levistien began to wrap up the goods in some brown paper.
Kilpatrick also purchased some old ex-army blankets, picking out the best from a pile, those less stained by dirt and blood from some old battlefield.
“Wait outside young ‘un, while I haggle with the old man.”
It was not long before the tall man joined Beth outside the shop, the parcel of clothes under one arm while the stout club swung from his other hand.
“Best we make our way back to the arch and get some warmth in us.” announced Kilpatrick.
Beth walked happily alongside the tall man, feeling safe and secure. This man, tall and serious, was a man she felt she could trust.