THE DFEPRIVED... Chapter 4... Part 11.

A continuation of my book.

Sam was delighted to be moving up in life although he would be sad to leave Barker. The man had been good to him. But changes were what life was all about, to make advances. That night he informed Barker he would be moving to one of the tradesmen’s houses across the compound, to join Black-Jack on the wall.

“I’m sorry to see you go, Sam. We spent some good times together in this house. But you are young and well-spirited and it’s an opportunity for you to get on and perhaps to get your ticket of leave after some years, to settle down out here and enjoy life.”

The next morning, as Black-Jack had said, Sam showed his letter of authority to the officer in charge and was put in the line with the tradesmen, standing next to Black-Jack. In the back line stood some of the young ‘Water-Boys’. Sam turned to nod quickly when he saw Heathfield among them. There were other young men also. Sam learned from Black-Jack that the boys worked as ‘Mixers’, the ones who knocked up the mix for the blocks and carried it up to the lines of block-builders, climbing up and down the ladders of the scaffold and keeping the workers supplied. Sam also learned that the ‘Water-Boys’ and ‘Mixers’ slept in the same house as the block-workers. Their bunks were at the rear and away from the men, separated by a tarpaulin curtain.
That day Sam worked alongside Black-Jack who allowed him to lay some blocks, tamping them down under the watchful eye of the big man who was not afraid to show his disfavour when Sam got it wrong.
“More mix! Straighten that block!"
Black-Jack would lean over the scaffolding rail and shout at the boys who worked in the mixing sheds so that one of the boys would climb the scaffold and deposit a load of lime mix on the boards before hurrying down the ladder again. Sam tried to see if Heathfield was among the boys who carried the buckets of mix but there was no sign of him. Sam mentioned the fact to Black-Jack  who reacted by shouting for more mix and then holding the boy who came up the scaffolding, demanding to know where the boy Heathfield was.
“He aint fit enough to do the climbing and has to help with the mixing in the shed.” replied the boy.
“Tell him I’ll see him tonight. Tell him Sam says so.” said Sam as Black-Jack allowed the boy to leave.
“Have you got a liking for the boy?” queried Black-Jack. “Personally, I aint into liking boys as does one man in the house. I do believe the boy you speak of is his lover.”
Sam shook his head in denial. He saw no point in explaining that he felt sorry for the small boy he had spent time with on the prison hulk.

He worked hard alongside Black-Jack, using the tools of the trade and seeing the building taking shape, something he had never bothered to look at when he had been pulling the trundle cart. There was so much to learn and the idea of acquiring a skill which would earn him a decent living wage if ever he got back home to the sweet shores of Ireland was a sweet idea. In this way Sam put his heart into the work and even Black-Jack had to warn him to slow down.
“Otherwise you’ll be upsetting the other block-workers. We has it set to do so much a day and no more. The more you do, the more them Officers below will expect!” had said the big man darkly.

That night Sam joined the march back to the compound with the tradesmen and followed Black-Jack into the house opposite his old house. The tradesmen’s house was larger and more airy, with windows to the front that opened. There was more light from lanterns and the ability to purchase food if one had money or something in exchange. Sam was shown a bunk to the rear, an upper bunk above a pug-faced man who seemed to fall asleep as soon as he lay down and who snored loudly between belches. The ‘Mixer-Boys’ came in much later, kept back to clean all the tools and to rake up the mix from the scaffold boards which was dropped by the block-layers. Sam sat up in the bunk and watched as the boys filed through the aisle, past his bunk on their way to the rear of the room. There was Heathfield, pale and small with his eyes down to the floor. Sam leapt down from the bunk, hearing the pug-faced man swear at being woken up. Taking no notice of the man in the lower bunk, Sam pulled at Heathfield’s arm. Heathfield did not look up and walked like a zombie.
“Heathfield!” Sam hissed urgently. “Heathfield, it’s me!”
The boy pulled his arm away and walked on. Sam followed him and watched as Heathfield climbed into a lower bunk and lay with his eyes closed. Sam shrugged and was about to walk away when a thickset man with black hair and a loud voice walked up to the bunk and began to push Heathfield, demanding he get up and go to his bunk with him. Heathfield rose and began to follow the man.
“Heathfield!” shouted Sam, his voice loud so that the men sat up in their bunks and took notice. Heathfield stopped and stood with his head down. The thickset man turned to face Sam, his face dark with threat as he stared then thrust his jaw out, his eyes mean.
“He’s mine!” he growled, grasping Heathfield by the arm. “Go and find yourself another boy to make love to!”
Heathfield began to sob loudly, being drawn away by the man’s insistence. Sam moved quickly, pushing Heathfield out of the way and landing a swift punch to the man’s jaw which took the man off-guard and sent him crashing to the floor. The man lay there and Sam knew there would be no more fighting, although he knew enough about men that he needed to watch out for this snake who now rose and with his eyes on Sam as he backed away.
“Come on, Heathfield. Go back to your bunk.” said Sam softly.
Heathfield was shaking, afraid and miserable.
“Go on. Go back to bed. He won’t touch you and if he tries then call me. I will help you.”
As he spoke, Sam helped the boy back to his bed and left him to cry himself to sleep.

“Be careful of Tallboy.” warned Black-Jack, coming to Sam’s bunk. “He’s already killed a man here. No, he aint got a nerve as to face a man. He’s a snake as creeps up in the night to stick a knife in the back. Be watchful.”
Sam nodded at this advice and knowing he would come up against the thickset man again at some time.
“Here. Take this and keep it hid.” added Black-Jack, handing a knife to Sam.
Hiding the knife under the mattress, Sam climbed into his bunk and lay down and it was not long before he was asleep.

It seemed that he had been asleep for no longer than a few minutes when he jerked awake to feel a hand over his mouth. Rising quickly and pushing the hand away Sam reached for the knife.
“Shush.” came Black-Jack’s whispered voice.
“What is it?” returned Sam, now fully awake.
“I think something is going on back there, where your little friend is lodged. I heard some strange sounds.” replied Black-Jack, his voice low and urgent.
Sam climbed down from the bunk and crept quietly to Heathfield’s bunk. The boy lay on his back with his mouth open. Sam shook him roughly.
“Heathfield!” he whispered urgently.
There was no answer. Sam put his ear to the boy’s mouth, listening intently. There was no sound of breathing.
“Look at his neck!” whispered Black-Jack, who had now crept up and pointed.
Sam peered closer, to see the boy’s neck discoloured with dark bruises and wheals.
“His neck has been snapped and strangled.” said Black-Jack quietly.
Sam lifted Heathfield’s arm and let go so that the limb fell lifelessly back on the bunk.
“This is Tallboy’s doing.” considered Black-Jack. “He’s been and done it to the boy because of you. He thinks the boy has a fancy for you and not him and used a rope on his neck."
Sam stood there, a black seething cloud blocking his thought, the cloud of anger and revenge blinding his thinking so that without a word to Black-Jack he made his way back to his bunk and withdrew the knife from beneath the mattress and stealthily made his way to where Tallboy lay with his mouth open wide as he snored. For a briefest time Sam stared down at him, hatred filling his head and he wanted the man to see death coming at him, knowing who was taking his life.
“Tallboy.” he said, shaking the man roughly. “Tallboy! Wake up and see death coming at you.”
Tallboy opened his eyes and blinked wildly, trying hard to make sense of what was happening.
“Tallboy.” said Sam. “I’ve come to kill you!” he shouted, uncaring as to who heard and not aware of those who had woken and now lifted their heads from their mattresses.