by John Wilcox
Now it was the turn of Acland to put his head in his hand. ‘I did my best to keep this a secret in the village, although I sensed it had leaked out. Nevertheless, I did not wish you to realise that you were … were, well a bastard child, of ignoble birth and born of my sin.’ The old man looked up, now with a solitary tear trickling down his cheek. ‘I pretended that I had adopted you to replace my other child, who was also a daughter by the way. I could not face you knowing the truth, so I did what Cunningham bade me to do and carried on smuggling.’
‘So you mean,’ Rowena spoke slowly, as though trying to grasp the truth, ‘that the grave where I have been laying flowers for so long does not contain the remains of my mother?’
‘That is so, my dear. You see the Reverend Hawker, such a broad-minded man, so truly a Christian, who baptised you, knew the truth and offered to have your mother interred quietly in his churchyard in Morwenstow, where she lies now. When I can, I lay flowers on her grave.’
He heaved a great sigh. ‘There, now you have the truth. I was always going to tell you but wanted to wait until you were older. But,’ he smiled, ‘you are very much your mother’s daughter, my love; full of her fire and warmth of heart. Cunningham always wanted to marry you but I told him that if he persisted in his suit, I would tell the militia of his activities and damn the consequences. So in the end,’ he smiled sadly, ‘we each seemed to be blackmailing the other. Comic if it were not so tragic.’
Rowena sat for a while, her face a mixture of emotions. Joshua wanted to enfold her in his arms to comfort her, but what could he say? He realised that he had to stay merely an observer of one of life’s tragedies, although he had been responsible for revealing it.
Eventually, Rowena reached out and took her father’s hand. ‘Nothing you have told me, Papa, diminishes my love for you. I now will put flowers on the graves of both of my mothers, and yes’ – she looked across at Joshua – ‘I think I know where my real mother’s grave is.’ She tightened her grip on her father’s hand. ‘Well now you can tell Cunningham to do what he likes, for I now know the truth. You must stop smuggling, Father. You can do so now.’
Slowly a smile spread across the seamed face of the doctor. ‘Thank you, my child. You can never know how much those words mean to me.’
Joshua cleared his throat. ‘I am loath to interrupt your story, sir.’
‘Oh, I have finished it now.’
‘Not quite, sir. This morning, in threatening to have me killed if I stayed here, Cunningham admitted that he had killed Jem Drake.’
‘What?’ The doctor looked genuinely astonished.
‘Yes. If I remember his words – and they were spoken only a short time ago, in fact – he said that if I did not leave this area soon he would cut my throat and string me up to the same tree where he had hoisted Jem Drake.’
The doctor sat in silence for a moment. ‘I am astonished,’ he said eventually. ‘I knew that he was a strong, evil man but I never believed he was capable of cold-blooded murder.’
‘Oh, Father, you don’t really know him, even after all these years.’ Rowena spoke quickly, her face now flushed. ‘It was he who ordered Tom Pengelly and Drake to attack Joshua, and, despite all that he has always said about wanting to marry me, he set his Preventers onto Josh and me when we were picnicking on the Point. I am sure we would have been tossed over its edge, if it had not been for the arrival of the tinners.’
Josh now spoke again, in a quiet, firm voice. ‘You examined Jem’s body, Doctor. Who did you think had killed him?’
‘Well, at first, I thought it was you and, indeed, Cunningham virtually convinced me. Then, later, I thought it unlikely that a man still hobbling on crutches with an injured leg could have overpowered such a strong young man as Drake.’
‘But you testified against me when I was accused of murder.’
‘Yes, but, if you remember, I gave no hard evidence of any kind connecting you with the murder. It was all very circumstantial—’
Josh interrupted: ‘And you hired and paid for the lawyer acting in my defence, for which I thank you.’
Acland grimaced and looked up at the ceiling. ‘Well, that is certainly true, but …’ He paused and looked shamefacedly at them both in turn. ‘I have to confess that I have always been ambivalent about you, my boy. I felt that you should be defended professionally and no one else could arrange that but me.’
‘Yes.’ Joshua nodded. ‘And, again, I thank you for that.’
‘But what you don’t know is that I deliberately chose a young, half-trained solicitor who appeared to me to have not the faintest idea of how to conduct a defence. And that proved to be true.’
Rowena threw back her head. ‘Oh, Father. How could you?’
The old man moved his head from side to side. ‘It’s that ambivalence again, you see. I wasn’t sure if you were guilty or not, so I chose a ridiculous halfway house sort of compromise, hiring an idiot to defend you and leaving the verdict in the hands of God and the magistrate. I knew Sir George as a good man and rather left it to him to identify the undoubted prejudice that existed in that courtroom. There was another fact, however, of which I am ashamed.’
‘What was that, Father?’
‘I was jealous of this young man, cast up from the sea and into our lives. I knew that you cared for him and I was afeared that he would take you away from me. Again, I took the route of compromise and, if you remember, did not attend the court again, after giving my evidence. I pretended to be ill, but was not. I just wanted no part of the decision for or against you. That was quite wrong and I apologise.’
Joshua nodded slowly. ‘You have answered several questions that remained in my mind, Doctor,’ he said. ‘But I must return to one more point.’
Acland regarded him intently, his face ashen. ‘Yes?’
‘The light that showed during the storm—’ The doctor began to interrupt, but Josh held up his hand. ‘You don’t believe it existed but I was there and you were not. I saw it, Doctor. I want to know why Cunningham would do such a thing.’
‘Ah, I wish I knew. I can’t imagine why he should kill Drake nor why he, a former sailor, should lure fellow seamen to their deaths. It just doesn’t make sense.’
Rowena was switching her gaze between the two men and opened her mouth to speak, but Josh held up his hand.
‘I have been thinking about all of this intently,’ he said. ‘Indeed I pondered it all night long as I lay in that cell at the barracks and I think I have come up with a motive for both acts.’
‘Pray proceed, I shall listen closely.’
‘I think that, if we check the records, we shall find that the ships that were lost with all hands at Morwenstow over, say, the last decade, were Blue Cross vessels. Just as with The Lucy, they were driven hard onto the black rocks below the vicarage in a fierce storm. When they realised where they were heading, it was too late, for they were sailing expecting to find a safe anchorage, lured in by the false light. Other ships, sailing under different pennants, were often able to make a passage around the Point and escape the rocks, because there was no light enticing them in.’
The doctor lifted his eyebrows. ‘So?’
‘I remember well Cunningham’s evidence at the hearing at the inn here. He was almost incandescent with rage at the Blue Cross’s record of poor maintenance of their vessels and even poorer seamanship.’
‘Yes, he feels even more strongly than I on this point.’
‘Quite so. I believe that Cunningham makes careful note of when a Blue Cross vessel comes up the Channel. He has all the recent Lloyd’s Registers in his room, so he is able to check. Those who make the passage in fine weather, of course, he can do nothing about. But the ships in some distress in foul weather are his prey and he lures them onto the rocks. In other words, he is conducting a deadly vendetta against the owners of the Line, for what they did to him when you lost most of your shipmates at Bude years ago. The man, of course, is quite unbalanced.’
A silence lea
den with horror fell on the room. It was Rowena who broke it. ‘But Josh,’ she said, ‘how does the death of Jem Drake fit into all this?’
‘That has been puzzling me, too. I believe, though, that the answer lies in my reaction when I first saw his body hanging. Do you remember?’
‘Well, no. I can’t quite recall …’
‘I said that the body was left swinging there as a warning. A warning perhaps to others in his band of smugglers or even among the Preventers, who threaten to give him away to the militia. A terrible warning that he would kill – murder – if he had to.’
The doctor nodded. ‘Can you prove any of this, Joshua? I agree that your reasoning has credibility, but we will need proof.’
‘Only circumstantial evidence, Doctor. You see, what set me thinking was the fact that Pengelly and Drake saved me. They virtually entered the sea at the height of the storm to pull me off that rock and carry me up the cliff to safety with Row—Emma. I could not understand why, after saving my life – and Cunningham would have undoubtedly had me killed, if they had not done so, for he wanted no witnesses of the light – they should attack me later, almost certainly at Cunningham’s bidding. And attack me they did, because I saw the marks made on them by my knife, but they attacked without any real menace. I was able to frighten them away, merely with my seaman’s knife, so to speak. And particularly, Drake whose heart was certainly not in it.’
‘Yes, but you have not yet explained why Cunningham should kill that young man.’
‘The key lies in the fact that Pengelly and Drake were smugglers, yes, but they were also true sailors, seafaring men, not Preventers. My theory is that they had never been part of the luring-light disgrace. True seamen would never lure other seafarers and their ships to destruction and death. I am a seaman and I can sense that.’
Rowena frowned. ‘But they were there that night, as part of the gang.’
‘They were not part of the gang. They were there for the reason that they gave: to help rescue any men saved from the sea and the rocks. What they saw that night, with the brazier burning away and being fed to keep it going as a lure to The Lucy, I think disgusted them. It weighed most heavily on young Drake, as I sensed when I met them both later at the inn at the quay. I believe that he decided to confront Cunningham with the truth and threaten him with giving evidence against him to the militia. So Cunningham killed him and strung him up as a warning to Pengelly and any of the smugglers or the Preventers tempted to be disloyal to him. The man, of course, is a despot as well as an unhinged criminal. Then he threatened to turn Pengelly in as a smuggler, captured by the Preventers, if he opposed him, or even tried to leave the gang. It all fits, you see.’
The doctor nodded slowly. ‘I see that. But we still need proof. How can we get it?’
‘I don’t know, but I sense that Pengelly is the key to it. If I can persuade him to give evidence against Cunningham, it might be enough, together with what we ourselves have seen, to turn the scales against him.’
Rowena leant across and seized his arm. ‘But Josh, how can we do all this without incriminating Father in the smuggling – and Tom Pengelly, for that matter?’
Acland raised his hand. ‘Oh, I am quite prepared to take my medicine, if we can put this beast of a man up on the gallows.’
‘No, Father. They could still send you away to the Colonies and I couldn’t bear that.’
Silence again fell on the room, only broken by a distant whinny from Acland’s mare in the stables.
‘No.’ Joshua shook his head. ‘I agree with Emma. We don’t want that. But let me talk to Pengelly, anyway. We might be able to come up with a solution. Will he be at the harbour now, Doctor?’
‘Yes.’ The old man nodded sadly. ‘There will be much work to do in taking the proceeds of last night’s landing to our customers spread around the county.’
‘Very well. I shall go now.’
Rowena leapt to her feet. ‘I will come with you, Josh.’
Joshua shook his head. ‘I would rather you stayed here, Rowena. Let me deal with this alone.’
‘But what if the Preventers see you? You are supposed to have left for Kent, don’t forget.’
‘That doesn’t matter. I must see Pengelly.’
The doctor now joined the other two standing. ‘All of this,’ he said, ‘poses the question of what your intentions are regarding your, er, young lady in Dover. It would, of course, be much safer if you set off there at once. What do you intend?’
Joshua hesitated, for he was not sure now what he did intend to do. But Rowena answered for him. ‘You must understand, Father,’ she said coldly, ‘that Joshua is a man of principle and honour. He has given his word to this lady and he will keep it. I understand and accept that. So go now, Josh, and speak to Tom Pengelly. Then come back here and say goodbye.’
Josh didn’t know what to say, so he merely nodded mutely. Then he made his way into the street and strode down towards the quay, exuding a confidence he did not feel.
The men at the kilns were busying themselves and he had no idea if they were among the gang but he could see Pengelly working his dinghy around the head of the wall to meet one of the smacks about to enter the harbour. Josh wasn’t sure how he was going to approach him, so he was glad of the opportunity to sit on a bollard for a moment to collect his thoughts.
Once again, he admired the skill of the young man as he took his hobbler towards the smack, throwing the line adroitly on board at just the right moment, so that the slack could be taken up and the smack swung round the curve of the wall. A good sailor, then, but a smuggler!
As Pengelly rowed his hobbler back to the slipway, Josh called down to him. ‘Tom, I must talk to you. It is urgent.’
He saw the surprise on the man’s face and realised that the news of his capture by Cunningham must have spread, so that his reappearance had clearly taken Pengelly aback. But he nodded. ‘Let me make fast and I will talk to you behind the shed over there,’ he indicated the building.
‘Now, what do you want with me, then?’ They were standing behind the shed, in a small space between the wall of the building and the sheer face of the cliff, out of sight of any onlookers.
‘I want to talk about Jem.’
Pengelly turned his sun-browned face to look away, up towards the clifftop.
‘What’s there to say about him? He’s dead and that’s all there is to it.’
‘No it’s not. Cunningham has told me – less than an hour ago – that it was he who killed him. But I expect you know that, don’t you?’
‘What if I do?’
‘Jem was your friend, wasn’t he?’
‘Course he was. Best friend I ever ’ad.’
‘Don’t you want to bring his murderer to justice?’
Pengelly shifted his weight from one foot to the other and stared at his sea boot. ‘I don’t know what you’re after and I don’t see ’ow anything can be done about the poor lad’s passing.’
Josh sighed. ‘Look, I know you are in the smugglers’ ring and I know that you are a vital part of the whole business. But as a seaman myself, I am surprised that you are involved in luring vessels onto the Morwenstow rocks and the killing of fellow seamen.’
‘What?’ For the first time, Pengelly’s surliness disappeared and was replaced by a look of anger. ‘I never was involved in anythin’ of the kind. I would never kill a fellow sailor. You ought to know that, for it was Jem an’ me who pulled you off that rock an’ took you to the top an’ safety.’
‘Yes, and I’m grateful for that. But to carry me up, you must have passed the brazier that was kept burning through the storm to bring in The Lucy onto the rocks. You must have seen it.’
Pengelly’s expression changed, his anger replaced by a look of contrition. ‘Yes, well, we hadn’t seen it at first because we’d come down to the shingle by the side o’ the stream that comes down to the beach. We couldn’t carry you back that way because it was too wet an’ slippery. So we went up the path. That’
s when we saw the light a’blazin’ away, despite the wind an’ rain.’
‘Good, so you did see it.’
‘Course we saw it. That’s why we ’ad the blazin’ row with the captain, after we’d loaded you onto Rowena’s cart.’
‘What row was that, then?’
‘We told him that what he was doin’ was wrong an’ if he didn’t dowse the light, we’d report him to the militia.’
‘How did he react to that?’
‘He told us to mind our own business. But the light was out by this time, anyway. So there wasn’t much we could do about it.’
‘Did Cunningham threaten you?’
The young man nodded slowly. ‘Oh yes, he said that if we told anyone about the light he would turn us into the militia as smugglers, caught by his gallant band of Preventers.’ His tone had lapsed into sarcasm. ‘An’ that would mean deportation, for it would be our word against his – and probably the doctor’s, too.’
‘But why would he kill Jem, then?’
‘Because dear old Jem, although he was quite a meek-mannered chap, also had backbone.’ Pengelly looked at the ground. ‘More than I ’ad, as it turned out. Later on, he told me that he was gettin’ out of smuggling and was goin’ to tell Cunningham. I warned him not to an’ I thought he had taken my advice, but then he disappeared and I knew that Cunningham ’ad seen to ’im.’
‘Look. The doctor has decided to get out of all of this and accuse Cunningham and, if necessary, to confess to smuggling. If you would tell the militia and a court of law what you have just told me, between all of us, we could get this man hanged.’
Pengelly threw back his head. ‘Oh yes. An’ the doctor an’ me will end up in – where is it? Australia, wherever that is, for smugglin’. I can’t do that an’ you know it.’
‘That’s not necessarily true. If I could negotiate an agreement with Sir George Lansbury, the magistrate up in Barnstaple, guaranteeing the freedom of yourself and the doctor in return for giving evidence against Cunningham and his Preventers, would you do it?’
