by Deryn Lake
It was undeniably sensible, it was utterly reasonable, and yet somehow the Apothecary felt that he was failing her. Yet Emilia was right. If he gave up now, he would hardly know how to contain himself. Juliana’s killers had to be found, and to stand by and watch Joe and Runners Ham and Raven work their way through the puzzle without him playing any part would be more than he could stand. John sighed deeply.
“Emilia, what can I say?”
“Nothing,” she replied robustly.
“You know I love you, don’t you?”
She gave him a tight little smile. “Oh yes, in your way I’m sure you do, John.”
14
It was exhilarating to ride at speed across the bare heathland, feeling the wild west wind whip his hair into a tangle of curls, for today John was hatless, his wig in its box ready for the evening, a sudden longing in him to get to the sea and let it soothe him with its magic. He was not happy as he rode, sad that he had saddened Emilia, determined to make it up to her once he had caught the killers. And this spurred him on to ride even faster, as if the sooner he got to Sidmouth, the sooner he met the man whom William believed might have survived that dreaded ship of death, the sooner he would be able to settle down to married life and give his wife all the happiness she deserved.
Because he had felt the compulsion on him to travel swiftly, he had refused the placid Hicks at the livery stable and instead hired a young grey mare with long legs to take him on his journeys that day. And, indeed, he had not been disappointed in her, for she moved like a greyhound and seemed as keen as he to get to the sea and listen to the song of the toppling waves. In fact when he turned inland towards William Haycraft’s farm she let out a whinny of annoyance and slowed her pace.
“Just be patient,” he said, as they proceeded down the track.
The constable was in the fields, stripped to the waist and sweating profusely despite the fact that the sun was far from at its warmest.
“Oh, you came, Sir,” he said, looking up at the sound of the horse’s hooves.
John dismounted. “Just as soon as I could. This sounds an amazing stroke of good fortune, William. Is the man really from the Constantia?”
“I don’t know, John, and that’s the truth of it. The story is this. Widow Mullins lives in one of those little cottages near the seashore neath the cliff and has remained there alone ever since her husband was drowned. He was one of the sailors who went to Newfoundland but never made the journey back. But that’s by the by. Apparently she was out walking one evening and found a drowned man in the surf. Or at least, so she thought. But when she pulled him out there were signs of life. To cut a long tale short, she dragged him to her cottage somehow or other and nursed him back to life. Now, he’s staying put and likes it. And she’s not complaining either! But the heart of it is, is he from the death ship? Cos if he is, Sir,then he might be able to tell us exactly what happened.”
“You said he doesn’t speak English?”
“He’s learning from her — and not only how to talk.” William guffawed happily.
“Anyway, she won’t take any notice of me. Tells me to be off and leave her man in peace. But we must speak to him. He might have seen who brought Juliana on board.”
“Unless he’d already gone into the sea as we first thought.”
“Even knowing that would help.” William wiped his hand across his brow. “I’d best wash and dress and take you there. Maybe you’ll have better luck with her, John.”
The Apothecary shook his head. “Don’t disturb your working day. You’ve had enough interruption over this affair. I’ll find my own way there.”
“But how will you gain admittance?”
“I don’t really know. I’ll have to think of something.”
“Sarah is friendly but likes to keep herself to herself.”
“I’ll just have to try my best,” John answered, and put his foot into the stirrup of the capriciously wheeling mare.
The widow’s cottage was most snugly situated, the great cliffs leading towards Jacob’s Ladder behind it, sheltering it from storms, the beach in front giving the most beautiful views over the sea but offering scant protection should the waves get rough and come lashing inshore. There were four dwellings in the row, all whitewashed and all tiled rather than thatched, presumably because of their close proximity to the salt water. Putting on his most charming expression, John dismounted outside the last cottage and knocked on the black painted door. There was the sound of approaching footsteps and it was flung open to reveal a simple but very clean interior. But it was not to the furnishings that the Apothecary’s eye was drawn but to the woman who stood in the doorway.
She was like sunshine, from her big beaming smile and great mass of red curls that splayed out round her head in whorls and spirals, to her generous breasts, saucily visible above the chemise that she wore with her long brightly coloured skirt.
John grinned in pure appreciation of such a Junoesque beauty. “Is your mother in?” he said.
She smiled all the wider. “Who do you want, young man?”
“The Widow Mullins.”
“Then you’ve found her.” The great mass of hair tossed backwards as she laughed.
“Have I indeed. I was expecting someone much older.”
“A woman can be widowed at any age. Now then, how can I help you?”
This was the difficult moment and John thought on his feet. “I believe you rescued a sailor from the sea recently.”
Sarah didn’t look quite so sunny. “So what if I did?”
“Only that I wanted to ask your advice. You see, I am an apothecary, often called upon to attend people who are sick or who have been involved in accidents. I simply wondered what techniques you used to bring the poor fellow back to life. For I must confess to you that while I was in Sidmouth a man was washed ashore from the boat that was towed in, the Constantia but try as I might I couldn’t save him. He died in my arms.”
The Widow Mullins relaxed slightly. “Yes, I heard about that. They said a gentleman who was here on his honeymoon ministered to the Poor soul.”
“That was me. Anyway, it wasn’t until this mornng that I heard of your heroic deed and decided to ask you how you did it. Do you mind?”
She hesitated, then the big grin reappeared. “No, of course I don’t. Come in, come in. You can see the patient for yourself.”
John stepped into the glowing interior, all stone floors, rag rugs and gleaming brass, and thought how well Sarah kept her house in view of the fact that she must have hardly any money. Then his eyes got used to the brightness coming from the window overlooking the sea and he realised that the survivor of the death ship was in the room, had risen to his feet, and was surveying him with caution.
“This is Dmitri,” announced Sarah, and went to stand beside her guest. The raw attraction between them crackled and John wondered how they ever managed to get out of bed, the feeling was so powerful.
The Russian smiled. “Good day to you,” he enunciated carefully.
Sarah beamed like a proud mother. “You said that very well.”
Quite unabashed, Dmitri kissed her full on the lips. “Thank you.”
Feeling something of an intruder, the Apothecary decided to be businesslike. But it was difficult in the presence of two such healthy creatures who obviously found so much physical pleasure in one another.
“Congratulations,” he heard himself saying.
“On what?” asked Sarah, mystified.
“On being so natural.” He eyed Dmitri up and down, taking in the man’s enormous height and breadth, to say nothing of his thatch of blond hair and dark weatherbeaten skin. “Did you come from the Constantia?” he asked.
The sailor nodded. “Yes.”
“Thank God,” said John under his breath. He turned to Sarah. “Mrs. Mullins, you know, of course, that a dead body was found aboard that ship.”
“Yes, I do. And I’ve had that wretched William Haycraft round here wanting to ask question
s. I’m sure they think that Dmitri was involved in her death.”
John shook his head. “On the contrary, it is perfectly obvious that he wasn’t. Otherwise the body would have been in the sea and the sailors aboard. No, the whole mysterious circumstance points to someone else, some outside agency, boarding the vessel and dumping the body there.”
“But why? Why do that?”
“I can only imagine that some tormented mind regarded it as a joke.” John looked at the widow very seriously. “Mrs. Mullins, so horrible was the crime that I have offered my services to help hunt down the perpetrators. In order to do this I have to find out what took place on that terrible ship. Do I have your permission to question Dmitri about what happened that day?”
She paused, gesturing the Apothecary to sit down, then doing so herself. There were only two chairs and the Russian came and sat at her feet like some enormous wolfhound.
“What did you say your name was?”
“Rawlings, John Rawlings.”
“Well, Mr. Rawlings, I don’t mind helping you but there are difficulties. If Dmitri should be accused of killing that poor girl, then I should lose him, and that I do not want to happen. Secondly, he knows very little English and we will need help from someone who speaks his lingo.”
“Is there such a person in Sidmouth?”
“Yes, Old Saul.”
“The medicine man?”
“That’s him. He’s travelled far and wide in his day and has picked up a smattering of most tongues. Anyway, he sailed on a Baltic ship for a while and so can talk to Dmitri. Do you want me to fetch him?”
“I would be most grateful. Mrs. Mullins … “ John put out a hand and briefly touched her arm. “ … Dmitri will not get into trouble through this. I give you my word on it.”
“If he does you’ll have me to answer to.” she replied, and tossed her great mane of hair in a challenging gesture. John got to his feet. “May I escort you to Old Saul’s house?”
Sarah laughed. “If you wish. He’s only next door.”
“Oh I see. Was he part of your secret? Did he help bring Dmitri back from the dead?”
“Of course. I bless the fact that I’m big and strong because it was me that dragged him from the shallows and half way up the beach. Then I ran for Old Saul, who was at home, God be thanked. He knew what to do with a drowned sailor.”
“What?” John asked curiously.
“He turned him on his side and pumped his back with his hands, then he kept raising Dmitri’s arms, pushing the water out of his lungs. Then Old Saul and me between us up-ended Dmitri, heaven knows how when you look at the size of him, and what was left of the water came running out of his mouth.”
“You must have caught him just in time. I’m afraid I was too late with his fellow sailor.”
“At least you tried,” said Sarah.
They had reached Old Saul’s door but there was no response to the knocker and the widow turned back to her own place.
“He goes out a lot, attending the sick and looking for herbs and things. Do you want to come back later?”
“I can’t be too long. I have other things to do today.”
“Try returning in an hour.”
“I’ll do as you say.” John swept Sarah a bow which Dmitri studied with interest. “Many thanks for your help. You have contributed a great deal towards bringing wrongdoers to justice.”
“Not yet I haven’t.”
“But you will,” said John, and left.
There wasn’t enough time to venture to Wildtor Grange, nor indeed did the Apothecary feel like cooping himself up in The Ship. So instead, he mounted the mare and took her for a wild canter in the shallows, both of them getting thoroughly soaked and enjoying every spattering of foam. Then he dismounted and led her quietly along while he looked into the rock pools and examined the seaweed with its lovely moist bubbles, so delightful to pop and squeeze between the fingers.
As he walked John was aware of a distant figure, coming towards him from the direction of the red cliffs, a figure who was beachcombing just as he was, a small, russet-coated figure that matched its surroundings and was so wind-tanned that the skin of the face and hands matched the coat in their turn. Looking at it, seeing it sniff the seaweed and stare into the rock pools just as he was, John knew that he had found his man. Without a doubt, Old Saul was coming towards him.
“Good morning,” he called cheerfully when the distance between them had narrowed sufficiently to allow his voice to carry.
“Good morning, Apothecary,” answered the other.
John was amazed, wondering if the old man also practised magic, but realised after a moment or two that his presence must have been noted by all the locals when he had stayed at The Ship. He held out his hand. “Old Saul?”
“That’s me, Sir. And how be you today?”
“Well, my friend, well. How fortunate that we should meet. You’re the very man I was looking for?”
“How’s that then?”
“I believe you speak Russian. I’ve a few questions I want to ask Dmitri.”
Old Saul chuckled. “There’s a lot would like to do that.”
“Oh? Who?”
“Constable Haycraft for one. And that gaffer from Exeter.”
“What gaffer from Exeter?”
“Don’t know his name, don’t wish to. But he come round this way after the Constansia was brought in and asked if there were any survivors.”
“How interesting. I wonder who he was.”
“Don’t know, but he went away empty handed. I’d helped to save Dmitri by then, but I never let on.”
“Why?”
“Cos I didn’t like the cut of his jib. He was smooth as a snake, that one.”
“Does the constable know about the man?”
“Don’t reckon he do. Too many people asking too many questions, that’s what the fisherfolk thought. So they kept their mouths shut”.
“But William’s a good man. Why hide things from him?”
“Old saying. Least said, soonest mended. Sarah Mullins has been alone a long while, now she’s found a good man who’ll wed her in time. Nobody wanted to see him taken away.”
John scratched his head. “But why should Dmitri be removed?”
“Because the gaffer from Exeter would have snatched him soon as look at him. But he never got the chance.”
“I wish I knew who this man was.”
“Had a black coach with a coat of arms on the side.”
“What did it say?”
“Something about sickness.”
“Was he a physician?”
“Not he,” said Old Saul seriously. “Not that one.” He looked John up and down. “Let us repair to the tavern and talk of healing,
Sir.”
There was no way he was going to be rushed and John knew it. “I should be delighted,” he answered, though he actually detested the delay. “I would be interested to hear some of the things that you were taught by the Eskimos.”
“Those that aren’t secret you shall learn,” Old Saul answered.
John asked the obvious question. “You wouldn’t talk to the constable nor to the gaffer from Exeter. Why have you chosen to confide in me?”
“They said you were brave as a lion the day the Constantia was brought in, that you did not flinch from looking at that poor creature on the figurehead. I’d reckon from that, Sir, that you’ve earned a little respect. So I’ll help you question Dmitri provided you don’t tell what he says to another living soul.”
“I can’t promise that. It may be so important that it has to be passed on to the authorities.”
Old Saul looked deeply concerned. “Does that mean Dmitri will be in trouble?”
“It means that we might be able to find out who the gaffer from Exeter is and put a stop to his games.”
Old Saul nodded but said nothing as they made their way into the quiet dimness of The Ship.
* * *
He had thought he was going
to be bored, would be chafing at the bit to interview Dmitri and get a little closer to the secret of the Constantia. But in fact John had never passed a more fascinating time than he did in Old Saul’s company. He hardly said a word as the old man spoke in his soft Devon burr of how the Eskimos had taught him the technique of bringing the drowned back to life, of how they treated burns by pouring cold water over the scalded place, of how they used ambergris from the whale to rub on wounds and heal them quickly. He also spoke of the Red men, the Indians native to the Colonies, who had taught him about their medicine. Had shown him how fat from the antelope could be used as a coolingsubstance, how ground snakeskin and mint would stave off fever, how a vaginal suppository made from fir resin, juniper and crushed peas was used to help a woman give birth.
The Apothecary listened in wonderment, feeling that he, supposedly the qualified practitioner, had still a great deal to learn, and that Old Saul, supposedly an amateur, probably knew as much, if not more, than he did. Instead of looking at his watch and itching to be off, it was with reluctance that John finally left the inn, realising that two hours had passed instead of one.
* * *
Rather surprisingly, the door to the widow’s house stood open, letting the west wind blow through the cottage, chilling it a little. It had pulled one of the windows off its catch, so that it occasionally swung wide then banged shut again. It was rather eerie in view of the profound silence everywhere else.
“Sarah,” called Old Saul, “we’m be back.”
John went to the bottom of the stairs, which led directly out of the parlour, expecting the widow’s cheerful voice to call from above, but the silence continued, only the banging window breaking it. A noise from the front door had both men wheeling round to see who was coming in. But it was only a large black cat who stood there, staring at them rather uncertainly.
“Come on, Mab,” said Old Saul, bending to stroke her. “She be Sarah’s,” he added. Then he stopped speaking and straightened up, his face suddenly frozen. “Look!” And he held his hand out to John. It was covered in blood, oozing between the old man’s fingers as he spread them. “The cat’s got it all over,” he said hoarsely.
