The Black Rocks of Morwenstow by John Wilcox

Author:John Wilcox [John Wilcox]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780749017347
Publisher: Allison & Busby
Published: 2016-09-24T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

The journey proved to be one of the most uncomfortable and depressing of Joshua’s life. The horses were strong and the captain set a cracking pace, alternately walking, trotting and even, in short spurts, galloping them. Josh’s attempts to question him about the details of the accusation against him proved completely unsuccessful, the officer grunting, ‘I can give you no information, so it is no use asking me. For God’s sake keep up the pace, man. We have a way to go yet.’

In fact, the light was fading as the trio arrived at the municipal jail in the centre of Barnstaple. It was a grey, forbidding place, built of moorland stone, with small windows criss-crossed with iron bars. Josh was handed over to a low-grade official at the desk, the captain was handed a receipt and he and his escort turned and left immediately.

‘’Ad anything to eat?’ asked the jailer.

‘Not since breakfast. I would be grateful to eat something.’

The man gave him a not altogether unpleasant smile, nodded, and called down a corridor. This was answered by the arrival of a huge, bearded man, who roughly pushed Josh against a wall, forced his legs apart and ran his hands over his body. He plucked out the knife and threw it into a corner, took the few coins that were in his pocket and then turned his attention to the bag that Rowena had insisted on packing for him. Everything within was thrown onto the floor, until the bag was held upside down and shaken to ensure that nothing was left hidden. His razor, brush, shaving soap and knife were confiscated and he gestured to Josh to pick up the contents and then pushed him down the corridor, which was lined by cell doors.

One was opened and a push in the back sent Josh flying into the interior, after which the door clanged shut and a bolt was pushed across. The only light filtered through a barred window high in the wall and, at first, Josh had difficulty in seeing anything within the cell. Then he made out a small iron bedstead with what appeared to be a straw mattress and two well-worn woollen blankets folded on top. A wooden chair, a cast-iron bucket and a bowl with a jug set within it completed the furnishings. The stone walls carried no decorations, of course, and they glistened with moisture. It was cold and the place smelt of urine and stale tobacco.

Josh sat on the bed and wrapped one of the blankets around him. Then, making sure he was unobserved, he took off his shoe and took out the golden guinea and a handful of shillings he had hidden there before setting out on the journey. They could prove vital, but how, he could not comprehend at this point. He had given up teasing his brain about who might have given evidence that had resulted in him being arraigned in this way. So he sat, his mind empty, his head in his hands, the money grasped in one of them.

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