Ghost of the Thames Read Online Free PDF

am.” The
man warmed to the discussion. “Nothing like these old buzzards out
there, ye can be sure.”
    “What, then?”
    “Exotics, sir.”
    “Exotics?”
    “Aye. Exotics. Straight from the
Orient, they are. Granted, none are exactly virgins. We get ’em
after the gentlemen of yer sort in London are done with ’em. But
fine wenches they are still, sir.”
    Edward glared at the man. “And how do
you get these exotics?”
    “Why . . .from Shill, o’
course.”
    “Shill? Who is this Shill?”
    The little man lowered his voice, but
there was no mistaking the note of pride in his tone. “I shouldn’t
be saying, but he’s the very source of all these quality-type
exotics. These ain’t any slut or dolly mop picked off the street,
if ye catch my drift.”
    “This Shill fellow must have quite a
gang, to be able to make such arrangements.”
    The proprietor glanced at the door of
the bar cautiously before looking back at Edward. “I’ve never seen
him, sir, to be blunt, but he’s the cock o’ the roost in this
business. And I can be arranging a virgin fer ye through him,” the
proprietor continued quickly. “I can have her brought in, if ye are
willing to pay . . . say, a pound . . . and wait a week for
it.”
    Edward felt faintly sick. Dockside
whores were common in every port he’d ever dropped anchor. The
military stationed abroad, he knew, even made arrangements for
women to be brought in and made available to their soldiers. But
this was different. This smacked of slavery, and of the vilest
kind. Human trafficking of women from the Far East, from Africa,
from the islands of the West Indies. Legality and morality be
damned; there was money to be made. So, too many simply chose to
ignore the situation. As he himself had been ignoring it for his
entire life.
    And the Broken Oar was no different
than dozens of other places he’d visited these past few weeks while
searching for his niece.
    He forced himself to focus on why he
was here. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a shilling. “That
is not for a room or a trinket. But for some
information.”
    The coin bounced on the table only
once before disappearing into the little man’s pocket.
    “Do you have a sailor, a midshipman,
who’s been hanging about?”
    “Hanging about, sir?”
    “Yes, a young man who has been renting
rooms from you for the past couple of months?”
    “Indeed, no, sir. I been telling ye my
prices. I have many a returning customer, but mostly none that can
afford to stay more than a couple of nights.”
    “I had a girl come to my house today
claiming that a midshipman named Henry Robinson has been keeping
rooms here for several months.”
    The man shook his head slowly. “I know
of no such fellow, sir.” He scratched his nose thoughtfully. “What
was the girl’s name who would be telling such a tale?”
    “Jemima.”
    “Jemima . . . with the white mark like
a cloud in one eye?”
    “That would be the girl.”
    “Say no more, sir. Everyone in this
place knows the slut. She has a terrible wicked tongue and a more
terrible weakness fer the sauce, if ye be getting my
drift.”
    “I do.”
    “This Jemima used to be a reg’lar
’ere. A complete waste of a woman. Why, she’d get a fellow or two
to be buying ’er drink after drink until she got so dead drunk that
they’d carry ’er off and have their way with ’er fer nothing. No
profit to nobody. . . ’erself included.”
    Edward was afraid the man was telling
the truth. The woman’s language had been so coarse when she’d come
to his house that his doorman had nearly turned her away. And when
Edward had finally spoken with her, he could smell the alcohol on
her.
    “She was bad fer business, and we had
a falling out, ye might say. Took four of us to throw ’er out, and
I should tell ye that the whole crowd enjoyed seeing ’er sitting
splay-legged in the mud of the lane. Ye never heard such language
coming from a woman. Like a jack tar on a bender, she was. The