Mrs. Steers retrieved the travel guide from her
bag. "I tried to buy as many old
tourist guides and maps I could find. Hopefully,
the two I brought should prove useful.
Some aren't that accurate."
Scanning the index, she searched for the name of where
their current location. "Let's see…
St. James Palace… St. James Park … St. James Square… Hmmm… Nothing for St. James's Place. We are in the part of London where several
violent murders occurred. Of course, it's
not a major tourist destination when this book was printed. That is what you meant by coming here, didn't
you? You mentioned Jack the
Ripper. You wanted to see the places
where the murders happened?"
"Yes. That
would be awesome for my report."
"Let me check something else." Mrs. Steers got out a booklet which actually folded
out into a large map of London. "I
think we should use this map as our guide for now. Do you remember any other places from your
research?"
"No, I'm afraid…
Oh, wait… I totally forgot. I
have my notes. They're here in my
notebook." Sam thumbed to the first
pages. “Here they are. My notes on Jack
the Ripper, his victims, and where the murders happened.”
“You are an excellent note taker,” said Mrs.
Steers. “You should grow up to be a
researcher or something like that.”
"I just copied them from a book from the library. Catherine Eddowes was murdered in Mitre
Square in an area called Whitechapel. She was Jack the Ripper's fourth
victim. Maybe we should start there,"
said Sam anxious to see the scene of a future crime. Sam thought to himself. Once we get there, I can figure out the best
way to leave the newspaper without Mrs. Steers seeing me do it.
Mrs. Steers scanned the guide's index. "Hmmm… Oh good. Both Mitre Square and Whitechapel are listed."
Flipping to the back of the book, she unfolded a
rectangular reddish-colored map. "The
print is so tiny on this map. Whitechapel
is the name of this area of London. I
don't see Mitre Square. And of course, I
forgot my magnifying glass."
Sam waited for Mrs. Steers. Getting impatient, he looked around the
square again. He roamed over to a window
of a brown brick house. To see inside, he had to stand on his tip-toes. He could make out a massive table with some
chairs around it, a white door and a large cupboard with a few dishes on it
shelves. The floor and walls looked clean
and tidy. Embers smoldered in the brick
fireplace.
As he leaned closer to the pane of glass, a pale-faced
woman peered out of the window looking right at him. Sam jumped back, spooked
by her, then embarrassed for peeping into somebody's home. The window rattled as it flew up.
"Ey! I
told you to clean these here windows. I
can barely see out of 'em." At
first, Sam thought the woman was talking to him.
"I'll get to 'em when I good an' ready..."
said a man from somewhere inside.
"You'll get to 'em now... Or else I’ll box your
ears..."
"First of all..." said Mrs. Steers. Folding her
map back up, she glanced at him. “Sam, what's the matter?" She saw Sam had a stunned look on his face as
he peered in the open window.
"I was just checking out the inside of this house
when…" said Sam, pointing at the woman in the window who was now going
away to some other part of the house. “This woman just showed up…” Sam stopped. "I thought they would have
more stuff. There's hardly anything in
there."
"They may not be able to afford it. We're lucky we can buy lots of furniture and
other stuff." Mrs. Steers pointed
at her folded map. "Since we know
we are standing in the middle of St. James's Place, we just need to figure out
where we are in relation to other places then we should be able to find our way
to Mitre Square and any other significant spots for Jack the Ripper. We mustn't forget why we are here -- your
class report."
Browsing through his notebook again, Sam read over more
notes. "I have lots of places, but
I am not sure where to start. Maybe we
should figure out where we are first."
"In that case, let's look for a street sign,"
said Mrs. Steers. "Or something that will give us an idea of where we are
in Whitechapel."
"There... King's Street," said Sam pointing
at a metal placard bolted to a stone wall.
"That's not on the map, but I must admit the map's
not that detailed. Let's go that direction." Mrs. Steers pointed at the
passage to another street.
Leaving the square, they walked along the packed-dirt
road, avoiding muddy spots and piles of manure.
Sam checked out the buildings, most only two or three stories high. Above their roofs, he could see smoke rising
from their chimneys. Black suet and ash
from fires floated down from above, only adding to the grime. Some oblong windows had eight glass panes
with tic-tac-toe grids; while others had fewer.
"Gross!" said Sam looking at the garbage lining
the streets and along the walls. "Don't
they have garbage men to pick up the trash?"
"Not here.
This is one of the poorest and unhealthiest parts of London. Not to mention, it is the late nineteenth century. People had a completely different way of
life. Nothing like what we're used to. Aha,
here we have Mitre Street," said Mrs. Steers, pointing at a larger rusted
sign. "Let's keep going. There's bound to be a street I can find on
the map."
As they came to the next corner, Sam peeked around it and
came face to face with a pair of black wet nostrils. Sam fumbled backwards. A grey horse snorted, but Sam didn't feel the
spit hit his face. Horse spit flew through Sam and landed on the ground behind
him. The horse bobbed its head up and down, hitched to an empty wagon.
"Did you hear that Sam? Those two women mentioned they’re heading to
Mitre Square. What luck! We can follow them."
Mrs. Steers had overheard two women talking as they
walked past. Dressed in ankle-length
brown dresses, the women's entire skirt fronts were covered by long dirty
aprons.
They were talking to each other. "Well, Gertie, I'm on my way to clean
the Capt’n’s place. I can't
complain. The Capt’n pays well. His missus is ever so nice and the young-ins
are ever 'appy to see me."
"'Ow lucky you are. Good pay and all," said Gertie. "I
got to clean that old sot's place.
Leavin' empty wine bottles scattered over the floor! I nearly fell when I stepped on one the last
time. Ay, Agnes, you wouldn't believe
the bottle of wine I found left over last time.
Just enough left for a good swig!
Ah, the life of a char." Sam
and Mrs. Steers followed behind them.
"What does char mean?" asked Sam.
"They are probably charwomen. It's like a maid. They clean, sometimes cook, for families."
After twisting and turning through backs streets and
alleys, they saw a sign for "Mitre Square." At the entrance to the square, the charwomen
parted. Gertie traveled on while Agnes
turned the corner into another square courtyard. The buildings looked the same as elsewhere,
except for one far corner which had a high wooden fence. Agnes entered a plain-looking brick building immediately
to the left, closing the door behind her.
Next door, narrow boards barred the door and windows. It was vacant.
"That must be where the Capt’n lives," said
Mrs. Steers mimicking Agnes. "Well,
here we are. This is the same square
where poor Catherine Eddowes became a victim of Jack the Ripper." Sam walked to the square's center, trying to
remember each detail for his report. He
filled a couple of pages with notes.
"Kearley and Tonge… Horner and Sons… Heseltine..." Sam read the large words on the side of the
building and above the doors. "What
do you think these are? People's houses?"
"In this area of London, I suspect they’re businesses
and warehouses," replied Mrs. Steers searching her guide book. "Do you smell that strange odor? It smells like chemicals… Sulfur, maybe? I think it is coming from that
building." She pointed to the one
with sign reading with "Horner and Sons." "Perhaps they import or manufacture
chemicals of some sort."
Sam strolled to the corner with the wooden fence and
peered between the vertical slats. "This looks like someone's yard. I can see a passage between the buildings." Sam jotted down more notes.
"Here it is!” Mrs. Steers exclaimed pointing at a
spot in her guidebook. “I found it on the map.
We are near Houndsditch, Aldgate Station, and Leadenhall. We should be able to find our way around now
that I know where we are." Mrs.
Steers saw Sam taking notes.
"Which corner was it, Sam?" asked Mrs.
Steers. "The one where poor Catherine lost her life?"
Sam glanced over his notes. "I don't
remember. I didn't write that down."
"I guess it doesn't matter,” said Mrs. Steers. The important part is you get a flavor for
what the murder scene was like. Have you
taken plenty of notes?"
Sam nodded his head not even glancing up. "I wrote down he was a regular at the
Ten Bells Pub. How about there?"
"Let's go that way," said Mrs. Steers,
studying her map and pointing to the left.
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Its getting realllly good!
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