4. Timing is Everything.

As the weeks went by William, or as he now felt comfortable responding to, Phileas, took to his role as cook quite well. He had never really cooked before and had only helped his mother in the difficult months after his father’s death. He never allowed himself to like his crew mates, despite their obvious warming to him. In his mind they liked Phileas, in his heart he would always be William and never forget, or forgive, his mother’s murder. But he found it hard. The crew looked after him well and were keen to teach him their trade.

In particular he spent a lot of time with Cutter. He was not what Phileas had expected a smuggler to be. He was not the reckless heartless rogue he had pictured but an intelligent and warm, unless he was ‘working’, then the steel arrived. It was this mask that turned him back into the evil killer William loathed, but to keep himself alive Phileas was happy to like him during the calm moments.

The jobs they did took them up and down the east coast of Scotland, they made occasional trips around the west towards Ireland but mainly they operated between Scotland, England and the Netherlands. It was the continental trips he enjoyed. He rarely left the ship as the crew clearly enjoyed those trips too, but every so often he got an hour to leave the galley and wander through the exotic streets of Amsterdam or Bruges. He’d never heard anyone speaking the vast collection of languages he met in these incredible cities. With the small handful of coins he occasionally earned he tried new foods, real beer, not the watered down stuff, he watched musicians and saw incredible performers and gradually the naive homely William faded behind the adventurous and emboldened Phileas. But it wasn’t just in his rare and very occasional free time he was growing, he had started watching the crew closely, in particular Cutter, he wanted to know how they managed to be so successful.

It wasn’t hard to get the captain to talk about their techniques and tricks. He was only too happy to have an apprentice. The one thing that was always clear was above everything you had to know where everyone would be and when they would be there. Timing was everything. Cutter was meticulous in his planning and ruthless towards anyone who failed to follow the plan to the letter.

“I don’t care about you lot, but you’re trained and bloody hard to replace so I don’t want fighting at all. If we stick to the plan we will never meet trouble. Ever. If we know where trouble is and when it will be there, we won’t. Your watch is much more powerful than your gun.”

Cutter saw everything as a board game in which he needed to know where every piece was and if he didn’t then nothing would happen. His crew knew this and they had become as focused on their preparation and timing as he was. This was something Phileas had adapted to very quickly. He had been terrified into it by his first encounter with Cutter’s vengeful rage.

They had planned a deal with another gang operating from Barrow. The plan was in place and as ever it was fine tuned to the minute. It was a big deal and as a result the risk of being discovered was high. The window of opportunity that Cutter had identified was a small 18 minutes between changes at the barrack guard point and the local watchman heading home. They were exchanging three large carts filled with all manner of alcohol and a small but significant package of weapons. He knew it had risks, but he knew that in the 18 minutes available everything could be achieved.

On the night their crew knew their jobs and carried them out to the letter, they were ready and prepared at the agreed transfer time of six minutes past three in the morning. They moved into the pre arranged position and waited for the other crew to signal from the opposite side of the dock. As soon as Cutter realised they had missed their cue by three minutes he signaled the crew to move out and abandon the plan. Then as they were heading back to the ship the other gang suddenly offered their signal and began the process of shifting the goods for the trade across the dock, right past the barrack guard point, now nearly four minutes late. The plan now being out of his control Cutter flew into a rage but knowing it was too late to back out he hurriedly scrambled the crew to try to rescue the deal.

Cutter knew that the first to appear would be the barrack guard, and he knew that of all the parts of the plan that needed to be on time it was the handover that would have to take place at exactly that position. He rushed across the cobbled courtyard cutting through rather than edging round as the plan had called for. It was a risk he had no wish to make, but he had to. It saved him seconds but it brought him out into the open. He got to the carts to find the leader of the other gang lying across the arm of one of his mates, drunk. This served to increase Cutter’s fury, it was he taking the risks now and not them. He realised quickly that the plan had to change, the goods were in his crew’s possession, they had to bring it into the sight of the guard. He stopped for a second, took a breath and thought. He grabbed the leader of the other crew and dragged his drunken body back across the courtyard and right up to the guard point. He crouched in the only darkness he could find and let out four whistles. On this his crew brought out seven boxes and keeping as wide to the guard house as they could they left them at the far end with the other crew. He looked at his watch, his men had no time to cross the yard to safety.

There was a whistle to confirm payment and Cutter whistled back to indicate it was safe to cross back; it wasn’t, but Cutter had come up with a plan.

He sat silently waiting for the giveaway sound of the Watchman’s boots. The minute he decided it was close enough he slapped his counterpart across the face. He woke with a start and tried to get to his feet, he stumbled and fell headfirst into the watchman’s shins. In the ensuing chaos of kicks, swearing and general anger Cutter skirted the courtyard going through the darkest corners. By the time he reached the safety of the path to the bay they had anchored by the Watchman had dragged the drunk to his feet. Cutter watched as the other crew panicked and began running from the Guard post, this alerted the watchman who sounded the alarm and within minutes the gunfire started. He turned and shook his head as the moans of the wounded replaced the cracks of the guns.

Back at the ship the crew assembled and readied themselves for a swift departure. Cutter was last aboard, and Phileas who had been tasked with manning the gangplank welcomed him aboard.

“Lesson for you there lad. Number one, don’t drink and work, it never ends well. Two, timing is everything, of everything on this boat, my watch is the most important weapon we have. And finally, never, ever let me down. Those boys will hang if they survived, I’d have happily seen them escape but that was their fault and I had to get us all back safe.”

There was a real steely cold look in his eyes. Cutter had put all of the risk onto the other crew, their panic had caused their demise, not his actions but Phileas could tell there was no remorse, no concern and a hint of triumph in his voice.

Cutter looked over at the rest of the crew.

“You get my message clear, you kept half the stuff?”

“Aye.” Came a collective grunt.

“Good nights work then.” Cutter grinned as he gave the order to weigh anchor.

“Let’s go South.”