Chapter 5 - Fetter Lane

After a great deal of persuasion, Charlie failed to convince Maggie of the soundness of his plan. He was good to his word nonetheless, allowing them to continue on their journey unharmed.

As they left the derelict building, the children expected to be jumped upon or have objects thrown at them. But they slipped away with Charlie's warning ringing in their ears about exposing his gang to the authorities.

"If you change your mind," he said as they left, "you know where to find me. But remember: not a word to a soul. One word about me will be your last."

"He was very persuasive, Thomas," Maggie whispered as they left the gang behind. "It's tempting, I can't deny it. And it's money. Money we desperately need. But it is not right, is it?"

She had observed the smile upon Thomas's face when Jack and other members of the gang began telling him of their past exploits and knew the disappointment he felt when she turned down the offer to join the gang.

"Sounds exciting, though, Sis. And we'd have money and maybe new friends -"

"But is it right, Tom? Committing a crime an all? And do you really think they want to be your friend?"

Feeling reprimanded, he replied, "No, I suppose you're right." He put his head down and they continued to traipse through the streets until they reached Fetter Lane and the residence of Mr William Turner.

Maggie stopped when they reached the front door. "Now do you remember coming here?" she asked him. He nodded his head but hadn't spoken much since leaving Charlie Deptford and the rest of his gang.

She knocked upon the door. She waited and felt a wave of desperation come over her. He has to help, she said to herself. He is our last hope. She knocked at the door again - quicker, harder, full of impatience this time. She pushed her ear to the door and heard footsteps descending the stairs. And then somebody muttering, angry words spat from the mouth of a woman. Inaudible at first. Then clearly she heard, "Is there a bloody fire?"

The voice was aggressive and seemed to be descending the stairs quickly with heavy footsteps. Maggie stood back and pushed Tom behind her.

"Is there a bleedin a fire?" The large woman shouted as the door flew open. In her hand she held a bedpan. "Show me? Can you tell me, where is this bleedin fire?"

"There - isn't - one," stammered Maggie.

"Then why are you a banging upon this here door as if the great fire was upon us again!" she shouted.

Before she allowed Maggie a reply, she held out the bedpan and threw its yellow contents towards the children. Holding on to Tom, Maggie dragged him out of the way of the spiralling liquid - and moved them to a safe distance away from the door - as the urine splashed across the pavement.

Maggie was about to explain, about to tell their tale of woe, about to ask whether Mr Turner was available...but the curses and aggressive shouts from the woman persuaded her she would be wasting her time.

"Shift, you filthy little beggars! And don't you come back around here!"

Tom and Maggie stepped backwards, seized by fear, as the hefty woman began to march towards them.

"If I see you here again, I shall have the police on to you! Now scarper!" she shouted.

They turned and ran down the road, away from Mr Turner's home. When they reached the top of the lane, they stopped running, sat down on the street corner and caught their breaths. They sat and talked and weighed up their options: a chance of food at the charitable school perhaps, if it were not too late.

Or maybe there was still a chance to take part in Charlie Deptford's criminal enterprise.

***

Metropolitan Police Evidence: The Power Papers - Document 3

Letter from Thomas Power, Van Diemen's Land, sent to Mr. William Turner, London, February 1841.

My Dearest Friend,

I hope this letter finds you in good health.

Now I am marooned upon this prison island, I realise how much I miss our friendship, and miss being at the heart of our worthy cause: the freedom of all England's workingmen. Upon which, may I enquire as to any news regarding my appeal? You have been very quiet of late and your previous correspondence touched upon general issues, rather than on the appeal process. Is there something I should know?

At present, I feel completely abandoned on this God-forsaken Island. The only thing which keeps me going is the righteousness of our cause and the hope that our reform Charter will change England to such a degree, that we, the inhabitants of this island - whose only crime is to be poor and powerless - shall eventually be set free and walk once more upon England's green and pleasant land.

However, I feel I must speak plainly. I sense I'm slowly sinking into despair. The reason for my current outlook stems from the repeated silence from my wife back in England. I keep sending her letters but alas receive no reply.

Did my good wife not contact you as I requested her to do? She has yet to respond to my many letters and I merely wish to know her well-being, and that of my children, is being provided for. I know it is easy to drift and become lost in that great and monstrous city. Indeed of late my imagination has been filled with the most terrible thoughts and the gravest images of their ill fortune haunt my dreams.

Therefore, I ask for your help once again. I beg of you to please enquire as to their welfare. If any misfortune has overtaken them, please let me know immediately. I would rather know, than suffer here alone in ignorance.

Yours sincerely

Thomas Power.

***