The Black Rocks of Morwenstow

by John Wilcox

  The corpse was lowered into the cart and Rowena touched the artery under the dead man’s ear to ensure that no life remained. She shook her head and wrinkled her nose in disgust. ‘Rigor mortis has set in. He must have been hanging for hours.’

  They covered the corpse with the old blanket that had served them well that night on the moor. Rowena was about to flick the reins to galvanise the donkey when Josh held up his hand. ‘Let me look about here for a minute,’ he said, and lowered himself onto the ground.

  Underneath the branch from which Jem had been suspended the grass was trampled. There were hoof marks mixed with impressions made by what seemed to be a riding boot. The boot marks, however, seemed to be those of only one man. The hoof marks were deep, showing, he mused, that the horse had been carrying a heavy burden; perhaps two men – or even one man and a corpse.

  ‘I don’t think he was killed here,’ he called up to Rowena. ‘I think his throat was cut and he was brought here to be strung up. But why?’ He wrinkled his brow then struck his fist into the palm of his hand. ‘Of course! As some sort of warning to others. This is what happens to you if you …’ He did not complete the sentence.

  ‘If you what?’ called Rowena.

  ‘I don’t know, but I mean to find out. Look,’ he pointed behind them, ‘there are drops of blood on the track. They must have dripped from poor Drake as he was brought here.’

  ‘If we follow them back it should tell us where he was attacked.’

  ‘I doubt it. Whoever did this would be too clever to leave such a giveaway. But let’s see. Turn the cart round.’

  Rowena did so but the red trail soon ended and there were no hoof marks on the path. The horseman had obviously carefully picked his way through the bushes and tangled undergrowth on the moor itself, but there were no tracks to show from where he had come.

  ‘Where do we take him?’ asked Rowena.

  ‘I suppose there is no alternative but to put him in the stable behind your house. Then, of course, we must inform the authorities.’

  The ‘authorities’, however, proved to be difficult to find. The nearest militia post was in Bude, some fifteen miles away, and the nearest magistrate in Barnstaple far to the north. ‘It will have to be Jack Cunningham,’ said Rowena, after they had laid the body out on straw in the stable reserved for the doctor’s horse, which was, of course, away with its owner.

  ‘No, not just yet,’ said Josh. ‘Can you first of all go down to the quay and find Tom Pengelly and bring him here. Don’t tell him the bad news. Just say that I would like to see him urgently.’

  ‘Very well, Josh. But then we must tell poor Mrs Drake.’

  ‘Of course. But Pengelly first. Go quickly.’

  The two arrived within five minutes, Pengelly’s sea boots still dripping.

  ‘It’s about Jem, isn’t it?’ demanded the sailor, his face white under its tan. ‘You’ve found him, haven’t you?’

  Josh didn’t reply but beckoned Pengelly to follow him into the stable.

  ‘Oh, holy mother of God,’ cried the sailor as Josh pulled back the blanket. Pengelly dropped to his knees, crossed himself and seized the cold hand of the dead man. ‘Ah, Jem. Poor Jem.’

  ‘He was murdered, Tom,’ said Josh. ‘We found him hanging from a tree up near the Point but he had been killed, I think, before that and taken there to be strung up. Now,’ he paused, ‘you were his friend. Can you tell me why?’

  Pengelly hung his head and then shook it. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I can’t.’

  ‘You realise, Tom, that you would be a prime suspect in this murder.’

  The sailor turned his head quickly and looked up at Josh, his face flushed with anger.

  ‘Me? I’m no suspect. Jem was my friend, my best friend. Anyone will tell you that. I wouldn’t have harmed a hair on his head. Why,’ the air of aggression deepened, ‘you’re a far more likely suspect than me, Second Mate. All kinds of strange things have happened since you came here.’

  ‘Really? What sort of strange things would they be, then?’

  ‘Well,’ he paused for a moment. ‘The Lucy comin’ in onto the Morwenstow rocks as though she was a fury, for one thing. Who’s to say it was the drunken skipper who pushed the helm down and brought her in like that. P’raps it was you on the wheel that night.

  ‘Then there was that cock ’n’ bull story about you bein’ attacked when only you saw those two men. Nobody else saw ’em. An’ then suddenly we was invaded by tinners and there was a battle on the ’eath. All very strange.’

  Suddenly, Rowena intervened. ‘Now, don’t you go accusing Joshua of bein’ behind all that stuff.’ Her voice rose indignantly. ‘You say nobody saw those two men attacking Josh. Well, I saw ’em, admittedly they was runnin’ away, the cowardly pair. But I saw ’em all right.’

  She turned to Josh. ‘Mind you, Josh, you shouldn’t go accusin’ Tom here of bein’ involved in this terrible murder. He wouldn’t do a thing like that, particularly to his old friend Jem.’

  Josh threw up his hands. ‘That may well be so, but I am plucking at straws here. I would like to feel that Tom here, whom you know well, was not involved. But who the hell was?’ He turned back to Pengelly. ‘Look, I know that it was you and Jem here who attacked me up the hill there. I know you will deny it but I’ve seen the scars I put on your face and arms and here, look,’ he pointed, ‘this discolouration on Jem’s face. I did all that and remember clearly doing it. Those marks give you away. But it was you two who saved me at Morwenstow. Why then should you attack me? Someone put you forward for it, didn’t they? If you can tell me who it was, and why he should do it, then perhaps we can begin to get to the bottom of Jem’s murder.’

  Just for one fleeting moment, Josh thought that Pengelly was going to reveal all. Then, his face assumed that sullen expression that he wore whenever he had been questioned. ‘I know nothin’ of these things,’ he said, ‘an’ that’s that. I’m goin’ to answer no more questions.’ He turned to Rowena. ‘’Ave you told Jem’s mother … ?’

  ‘No. Not yet.’

  ‘Then I suppose I’d better do it. Where did you say you found ’im? I shall ’ave to tell ’er.’

  ‘Up on the path towards the top of Hartland Point. A tree on the right.’

  ‘I’ll go to ’er now.’

  Josh put a gentle hand on Rowena’s arm. ‘You had better go and make some tea,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid it will be very trying for everyone when Mrs Drake arrives, poor woman.’

  ‘All right. But where are you going?’

  ‘I will walk up to the Preventers’ barracks and try and find Cunningham. He is the nearest thing we have around here representing law and order and I agree he should be told. Anyway, I shall ask him to send one of his men to Bude to inform the head of the militia there about the murder and another to Barnstaple to tell the magistrate. Then, it’s up to them.’

  He clasped a hand to his forehead. ‘I wish to God your father would return. Perhaps some sanity might return to this place then.’

  Rowena attempted to put her arm around his shoulder but he shook it off. ‘I am really sorry you have landed in this mess, Josh,’ she said. ‘I really am. Perhaps,’ she stifled a sob, ‘you should go to your Mary now before things get worse.’

  He smiled at her in apology at his roughness. ‘I’m sorry, my dear, that I seem to be throwing accusations around, but I am determined to get to the bottom of this. Anyway,’ he shrugged, ‘there can be no question of me leaving Hartland Quay now until the coroner arrives.’ He looked at her sharply. ‘Who is the coroner around here?’

  Rowena smiled wanly. ‘Father, of course.’

  Josh limped up to the barracks and banged on the huge door. The captain was out, he was told, so he left a message asking him to come to the doctor’s house as soon as possible. There had been, he said, a brutal murder.

  He heard the voice of Mrs Drake bewailing her loss long before he reached the bottom of the hill. He decided that he could not face a mother’s grief
and turned away from the stable and climbed the stairs to his room. There, he lay on the bed, his mind racing as he tried to tease some sort of thread of sanity out of the jumble of events that had happened. Pengelly was right. It had all seemed to happen around himself.

  Then he sat upright. Would someone ‘in authority’ come to that conclusion, too? Would the trail culminating in Drake’s murder point to this newcomer to the village? Well, of course, he knew he was innocent but this was a remote, even barbaric area. It would not be so very difficult to manufacture false evidence that could incriminate him. So who might do that? Who, in fact, was guilty? For one wild moment, he even considered if Rowena – wilful, jealous Rowena, with her Gypsy background and her head filled with romantic, even violent ideas perhaps – could be somehow involved. He shook his head. What nonsense! She might be a fantasist and a romantic but she could not be a murderer.

  Captain Cunningham rode into the stable in a clatter of hooves and Rowena and Josh went to meet him. He studied the body in silence, bending down to turn Jem’s head to study the wound.

  ‘We need to inform the militia and a magistrate, I presume,’ said Josh. ‘I understand that Doctor Acland is the coroner around here and, hopefully, he should be back soon.’

  ‘I have already sent gallopers to Bude and Barnstaple to do just that. I didn’t say much: just that a murder had been committed and the Queen’s peace had been broken.’ He stroked his chin. ‘For such a capital crime they won’t delay, I am sure. And, as for the doctor, I understand he has been seen about two miles from here riding home. He will be here soon.’

  ‘Thank God for that,’ murmured Josh, and Rowena’s troubled face melted into a smile.

  ‘Where exactly did you find Drake?’

  ‘About half a mile towards Hartland Point, hanging from a tree on the right of the track.’

  ‘Hmm. I had better get up there right away, before people start tramping up there to look at the damned tree and removing whatever indications there might be of who strung him up there.’

  Josh nodded. ‘I noticed hoof marks and marks of a riding boot just under the branch from which he was hanging. That’s about all.’

  ‘Thank you. I must go and see for myself.’ He nodded to them and swung onto his horse and, with a wave of his hook, galloped away.

  A silence descended on the stable and Rowena and Joshua stood by the side of the body looking at each other. ‘Oh, Josh.’ Rowena moved towards Josh and put out her hands. He took them, as much to reassure her as to ward her off and gripped them tightly.

  ‘We will find out who did this terrible thing, I promise you,’ he said. Then he bent down and covered Jem Drake’s head with a corner of the blanket. ‘Come away from here now. Your father will know what we must do with the poor man.’

  ‘Oh yes, Father!’ Rowena put a hand to mouth. ‘I’ve only prepared lunch for two. I must see what else I can do.’

  The doctor rode into the stable yard behind the house half an hour later. He had ridden from the nearest rail station after an uneasy night’s journey on the train and his eyes seemed sunken and his movements stiff as he dismounted.

  Josh stood back as Rowena greeted him. ‘Oh, Papa, we are both so glad to see you. A terrible thing has happened while you have been away.’

  The murder was explained. ‘Jem Drake!’ exclaimed Acland. ‘Jem Drake murdered! Who on earth would do such a thing? Everybody liked him. He wouldn’t harm a fly!’

  Josh briefly recalled how the second of his two assailants had seemed reluctant to attack and how easily he had been rendered virtually hors de combat by a blow on his cheek from a crutch. But the doctor was continuing.

  ‘Where is the body?’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s in your stable, Father. We couldn’t think of anywhere else to put him.’

  ‘Very well. Fetch my bag. I must examine him right away.’

  ‘But you must be tired, sir,’ intervened Josh. ‘Won’t it do when you have had your dinner?’

  ‘No it won’t. As coroner I must be sure that the body is not interfered with before I have a chance of examining it.’ He shot a keen glance at Josh, as though noticing him for the first time. ‘Was it you who cut him down?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Well I shall want you to give evidence when I hold court. Which should be tomorrow. Has the militia been informed?’

  ‘I believe that Captain Cunningham has done so.’

  ‘Good. They must take care of the body and summon witnesses.’ He sighed. ‘I didn’t think I would come back to something like this.’

  ‘Quite so. Did you … er … have a successful visit to London?’

  ‘What? Oh yes. I think so.’ Rowena brought him his bag. ‘Thank you, my dear. Now you must leave me to my work. Weyland, perhaps you would look after my horse, I confess to being tired. He had better go in with the donkey for the moment, I think.’

  After Acland had completed his grisly examination, they ate luncheon in comparative silence, broken inevitably by Rowena. ‘Father, why didn’t you tell us you were going away? And what have you been doing?’

  Acland, the lines on his face now accentuated by the flickering light – although it was not long after midday the sky was overcast and it was necessary to light candles to illuminate the gloomy dining room – touched his lips with his napkin. ‘First,’ he said, ‘tell me about your journey to Bude. Did you find any evidence of the tinners’ involvement in wrecking here?’

  The question was addressed to Josh and he recounted their discussion with the mine owner and the clash with Cunningham and his men on the heath.

  ‘Dammit,’ the doctor seemed to speak to himself as much as to them. ‘That man is getting ahead of himself. I have never thought that the miners were involved in smuggling, although they’ve all done a bit of wrecking in their time. They’ve gone up north, you say?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Well I’m not sure they will find employment up there. Things are no better in semi-industrial communities in this country than they are in rural areas.’ He had been looking at his plate but now he looked up and regarded them both.

  ‘Did you behave yourselves in Bude?’

  Josh answered for both of them. ‘Of course, sir. We had to sleep out of doors for just one night because I wanted to follow and talk to the tinners, but nothing untoward happened, I assure you. I gave you my word and I kept it.’

  A half smile crept over the doctor’s features. ‘Yes, but,’ he turned to Rowena, ‘did you, my girl?’

  His daughter blushed. ‘Of course I did, Father. Really! What a question!’

  ‘Very well, then. I think it time to tell you why I went to London and the result of the visit. I know it is only early afternoon, but I am extremely fatigued and I might be in need of refreshment to explain everything. So, Emma, my dear, fetch yourself some lemonade—’

  ‘Oh, really, Father!’

  ‘… and if, Weyland, you would be so kind as to find that bottle of cognac we tasted the other night, with two glasses, I can explain the action I have taken.’

  ‘Very good, sir. Rowena, do as your father tells you.’

  ‘This is ridiculous. How can I become an adult if I am continually being treated as a child?’ But she rose and flounced to the kitchen to find her lemonade.

  The doctor gave Josh the first full smile since his return. ‘She is a good girl really, you know, Weyland. But she can be a little wayward, as you have probably found.’

  Josh shifted uncomfortably in his chair. ‘Oh, I don’t think so, sir. Not really. Not really.’

  Rowena returned, glass in hand and sat down. ‘Now, Father. All kinds of strange things have been going on here, including you riding off to London while we were away. Now, tell us all about it.’

  ‘Very well. Be so kind as to pour the cognac, Weyland. Yes, thank you.

  ‘Now.’ He leant forward. ‘You say, my dear, that strange things have been happening while I have been away. Well, they were happening before I left
and that’s why I felt I had to go to London. You see,’ he took a sip of the cognac, winced slightly at its strength, took another one and put the glass down. ‘You see, I have been concerned for some time at the remarkably high number of ships that have foundered just along this ten mile stretch of coastline in the last year or so.’

  He took another sip and nodded his head appreciatively before continuing. ‘My old employers, the Blue Cross Line, have been particularly hard hit, losing four ships in that time. The loss of your ship, Weyland, brought things to a head for me, particularly with your accusations of seeing that light in the storm and then, as you say, finding the ashes at the place where you think it was placed. Then, the attack on you …’ He shook his head. ‘It seemed to be all getting out of hand.’

  ‘I can well understand your thinking that, sir,’ said Josh. ‘And now, of course, there is this terrible murder.’

  ‘Quite so. I suppose, as coroner and local doctor, I hold some sort of unofficial leadership position in this small community but I certainly felt it was beyond my capabilities to discover what was behind these shipwrecks – if, that is, there is anything, other than harsh weather and acts of God.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know, Father.’ Rowena seized her father’s hand. ‘If anyone can get to the bottom of all this then I am sure you can.’

  Acland smiled and shook his head. ‘Kind of you, my dear, but untrue, I fear. No. I felt that the insurers of these vessels must, at the very least, be uneasy about these claims on them, and that Lloyd’s in London should have their attention drawn to them.’

  ‘Ah!’ Joshua nodded slowly. ‘Yes. So you went to Lloyd’s?’

  ‘I did, indeed.’

  ‘Who are they, Father?’

  ‘It is, would you believe it, my dear, a very respectable institution founded in a coffee house in London about 150 years ago, where information could be exchanged about trade and shipping in particular. It grew into a place where insurance was taken out to protect shipowners and their cargoes in case of disaster and is now the world’s leader in this. These insurers, as you will understand, have a vested interest in seeing that there is no foul play in trading on the high seas and no unfounded calls on their insurance policies. They are centred now, in a highly professional way, in the heart of the City of London. Lloyd’s publishes the Lloyd’s List, giving details of sailings and so on, on a daily basis and, as you know, I have a collection of these publications in my workroom.’