by John Wilcox
Josh nodded. ‘Yes, the poor boy’s gone, Rowena. He obviously had had enough of Cunningham and was trying to avenge his friend Jem.’ He looked round. ‘But where are the Preventers? I thought I would have to fight them all to get near Cunningham.’
‘Yes, Father was able to tell me while I was tending his wound. He came down here, of course, on his own. When he arrived, Cunningham was stacking the brazier and the Preventers were unloading the wood. Papa said that there weren’t many of them so perhaps some had already deserted the captain. Papa turned on them and told them that he had written to the magistrate accusing them all of murder, with Cunningham as the ringleader. He said that the militia was on its way and urged them to flee before it arrived and not to be seen here or at the barracks again.’
She smiled. ‘It was all lies, of course. Father can be very dominating and strong when he tries. They fled immediately, going down to the path by the stream because they expected the militia to come down the way we came. That’s why we didn’t see them as we scrambled down.’ Then she gave a sob. ‘It was then that Cunningham, his old shipmate, tried to kill Papa.
‘Father fended him off with his own cutlass for a while, but eventually he was wounded in the shoulder. Cunningham would certainly have killed Papa, but he knew he had to keep the brazier burning, so he turned back to it. As a result, Tom was able to pull Father away and somehow bandage his wound before launching himself against Cunningham.’
She paused a moment to regain her composure. ‘Josh,’ she said, ‘I am so glad it’s all over … ah, my goodness, you’ve been hurt. I had forgotten. Here let me see.’
‘Oh, it’s only a pinprick. But I am not quite sure that it is all over, Rowena. Look, we must go back to your father. At his age, a wound like that will be very serious.’
‘Yes, of course. But I have been able to stop the bleeding so I think he will be all right. Yes, but, oh Josh. What are we going to do about Tom? We can’t leave him here.’
Joshua nodded. ‘Of course not. Now, do you think your father is strong enough to climb the path to the top if you help him?’
‘Yes, I think so, if we take it slowly.’
‘Good. I think I have just about enough puff left to carry up Tom’s body. Let’s try, anyway. We can’t stop here all night.’ He looked up at the sky and then out to sea. ‘Thank God it looks as though the storm has mainly passed over and the brig must have turned the Point, for there is no sign of her.’
He walked to where the bloodstained corpse of Tom Pengelly lay, crumpled on the ground. He turned to Rowena. ‘He lived here in Morwenstow, did he not?’
‘Yes, he lived alone after his mother died and, apart from his friendship with Jem, kept himself very much to himself.’
‘Hmm.’ Joshua pondered for a moment. ‘Go and see to your father. I will be over in a minute.’
Puzzled, Rowena nodded and then ran to where her father was attempting to struggle to his feet.
Josh knelt over the body of the young sailor and, with his thumb, pulled down the eyelids. He bent his head and murmured: ‘I’m not sure that what I’m proposing to do, Tom, would be approved of by the good Lord or the Reverend Hawker, for that matter, but it’s the only way I can see out of this mess. I hope you will forgive me, for the sea was your home, anyway.’
He stood and walked to where Rowena was pulling her father’s good arm over her shoulder. ‘Doctor,’ he said to the old man, who regarded him with a weary smile. ‘You did a very brave thing tonight and I salute you. Now, let your splendid daughter help you up this damned path and I will follow on carrying poor old Pengelly. Please start now, if you will.’
Rowena frowned. ‘All right, Josh, but be very careful climbing the path carrying … carrying such a weight. It’s still very slippery.’
‘I will be careful. I need to get my breath back before beginning the climb. Off you go.’
Father and daughter, arms around each other, slowly began their climb and disappeared around a bend in the path. Joshua wrinkled his face in disgust and stood by Pengelly’s body for a moment, before picking it up in his arms and staggering to the edge of the ledge. Then, closing his eyes he tipped it over the edge. He stood long enough to see the body bounce off the rocks and then slide into the still-agitated sea, disappearing beneath the surface almost at once.
‘Goodbye, Tom,’ he called. ‘Forgive me.’
He turned and collected the three cutlasses and hurled them away, one by one, as far out to sea as he could. They bounced off the rocks into the water, sinking immediately. Then turned and began his climb.
At the top, he found Rowena carefully laying her father down on the straw, which had been scattered on the floor of the cart for just such a purpose, and covered him with her cloak. The old man now seemed unconscious. Josh climbed up and sat beside Rowena.
‘Josh, where … where is Tom? What have you done with him?’
He put his hand to her cheek. ‘He was a sailor and spent much of his life at sea, love,’ he said. ‘So I returned him to his spiritual home.’
She pushed away his hand and, her eyes wide in shock, put her own to her mouth in horror.
He clutched her other hand, squeezed it and began speaking quickly in a low voice: ‘It was the best – the only – thing to do. There would have been all sorts of questions asked about his death and, indeed, that of Cunningham if we had brought Tom’s body back. What is left of them both won’t be found, if at all, for weeks yet and then they will be unrecognisable.’
Josh held her gaze. ‘It was the only way out of this mess,’ he continued. ‘Of course they will both be missed, but who will suspect your father, me or you, for that matter, of being involved? The Preventers, what is left of them, will have scattered – although we must check on that. It will just be presumed that the storm and the sea had claimed Cunningham and Tom somehow. Men are disappearing all the time on this cruel coast, particularly in weather like this. Please, Rowena, don’t be upset. What I did was for the best, don’t you see that?’
She did not reply, remaining staring at him, as though still puzzled by the explanation. He shook out the oilskin that he had jettisoned when the duel began and retrieved for his climb up the path and carefully draped it over her shoulders. Then he took the reins from her fingers, shaking the pony into life.
They passed through the hamlet at the top of the cliff, seeing no one, for the ship had been too far out at sea for the news of its possible distress to have had time to be spread. Now she had escaped anyway, there was nothing to attract folk either to offer help or by the thought of salvage. So on they trotted, back to the quay, with no one to question their presence on the clifftop in the middle of such a dreadful night.
On reaching the house, Rowena helped her father, now conscious but appearing to be dazed, up the stairs to his room, Josh unhitched the cart, pushed the donkey back into his stall and rubbed him down.
Now thoroughly exhausted, he crept into the silent house. Noticing the door to the drawing room open and with one candle burning low, he entered and realised that, blessedly, the key to the drinks cupboard was still in place. He carefully selected the best vintage cognac and poured three fingerfuls into a glass. Then, sighing, he sprawled into a cushioned chair, sipped the brandy and thought of the journey ahead of him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
He slept late the next day and rose when he heard Rowena moving around in the next bedroom. He slipped into his clothes and, knocking on the door, entered the doctor’s room.
‘Ah,’ said Rowena, giving him a warm smile, ‘I need your help. Father’s wound must be stitched. I can do it, for I have always been a good needlewoman, but I must bathe the wound first. Can you please heat some water and bring it in in that little bowl? Thank you.’
Josh was amazed at the change in the girl. It seemed as though, now there was something positive to be done, all her dazed despair at the death of Tom Pengelly and the brutal disposal of his body had dissolved and been replaced by her usual down-to-ear
th positiveness. He breathed a sigh of relief, lifted an eyebrow interrogatively and nodded at her father, who was sitting up in bed surrounded by pillows but seemed still asleep.
‘Laudanum,’ she whispered. ‘It’s the only anaesthetic I could find. It seems to be working. Now, come along, Nurse. Hot water, please.’
Relieved at what seemed to be the removal of blame on him for his despatch of Pengelly’s body, Josh rushed down to the kitchen, lit the fire under the stove and filled a kettle. Rowena was threading what seemed like catgut through a needle when he returned to the bedroom.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Was the water boiling?’
‘Yes, Doctor.’
‘Splendid.’ With the help of a pair of tweezers, she began extracting threads of clothing from the ugly wound in Acland’s shoulder. The old man only stirred once as she went about her task. ‘Good,’ she murmured, ‘the laudanum seems to be working.’ She dipped a freshly laundered facecloth into the hot water and began gently swabbing the wound. She looked up. ‘Can you boil some more water, Josh? I need to cauterise this needle and thread properly before I begin sewing. Oh, and bring up some iodine, please. It’s in the cabinet in the surgery.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
Within an hour the cleaning and stitching of the wound had been completed, with only the odd twitch of the doctor’s eyelids conveying any discomfort. Joshua had sat patiently, holding the hot-water bowl and handing Rowena the various instruments she needed, throughout the whole operation.
‘Rowena,’ he said at the end, ‘I am full of admiration for you. To my untrained eye that seemed to be carried out completely professionally. Well done.’
She smiled, although a half frown still lingered on her forehead. ‘You see, Mr Weyland,’ she said, ‘that I am no longer a silly little girl, falling in love quickly and wanting, er, sexual gratification all the time.’
He coughed, in some embarrassment. ‘Certainly not, Doctor.’
Rowena tested her father’s temperature by putting a hand on his forehead, nodded with satisfaction and tucked up the bedclothes beneath his chin. Then she sat back and regarded Josh unsmilingly. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘we need to talk. But not here. Down in the drawing room.’
‘Of course.’
They sat together on the sofa and Josh resisted the temptation to clutch her hand.
‘Now,’ she said, ‘what needs to be done, Josh? I mean about Cunningham, the Preventers, the smugglers and so on. Can we really leave things as they are now? Shouldn’t someone in authority be told?’
He heaved a sigh. ‘I honestly don’t think so, Rowena. We have left no evidence, except perhaps a few bloodstains on that ledge and I can deal with both. In addition, I think that there are only two things to be done.’
‘Yes, what are they?’
‘I am not sure that the Preventers will have fled the barracks. I must go there to find out and, perhaps, give them your father’s warning again. The other task is for me to visit the Reverend Hawker, to thank him for harbouring me and to explain what has happened. He will miss his friend, your father, and sooner or later will come calling and see his wound. We must take him into our confidence.’
‘Very well. But it will be too dangerous to go to the barracks alone. I will come with you.’
‘No thank you, my dear. I will borrow your father’s mare, if I may, for I may need to beat a quick retreat. But we will not need a doctor for that visit, Rowena. Please stay here and look after your father.’
She nodded glumly. ‘Very well.’ Then, she regarded him from under her eyelashes. ‘And then, Josh, and then … will you go to Dover?’
He put his hand to his head. ‘Oh, my dear, I have agonised about it, but I fear I must. You know, Rowena, that I would much rather stay here with you. But there is something wrong about things in Dover. Mary has not replied to my letters and I suppose she will not now. So I must confront her and offer to keep my word and marry her. Then I shall have done my duty.’
‘What if she says no?’
‘Then I shall return here. It would be unfair to make you promises of this conditional nature, so I will not. We must leave it there. Once I have settled the whereabouts of the Preventers and visited the vicar and once we are sure your father will recover, then I shall leave for Dover.’
Rowena’s features did not move and, for once, there was no promise of a tear. She merely nodded her head. ‘Very well,’ she said.
Joshua saddled the mare and, after searching the house for a suitable weapon, was forced to take down the doctor’s antique cavalry pistol. It might perhaps serve as a deterrent once more. Then, apprehensively, he rode up the hill to the barracks.
For the first time in his experience there was no guard outside the big gate and the huge doors were ajar. Cautiously, he edged the mare inside. The courtyard was empty except for two small boys who had found two rusty old cutlasses from somewhere and with a clash of steel were fencing. He recognised one of them as a boy from the high street who had posted his letters.
‘Good morning, George,’ he called. ‘Be careful with those old swords. They can both still cause harm.’ His stomach rolled as his brain recalled the flash of steel by the light of the storm. He thrust the image away. ‘Now, boy, come here.’
Reluctantly, the urchin did so.
‘This place seems empty. Have the Preventers all gone?’
‘Yes, sir. They all buggered off, like, this morning.’
‘Now, don’t swear. Where did they go to?’
‘I saw ’em all go to the quayside and take stuff from the huts there. Then they all rode off. Everythin’ seems to ’ave gone from inside ’ere like, as well. Everythin’ stripped out, see. All we could find to play with was these old things.’
‘Hmm. Thank you. As I said, do be careful. Even rusty swords can kill.’ He pulled on the reins and rode out of the barracks. No need to check inside. He realised what had happened.
Down at the quay, the doors of the sheds that had housed the contraband had been left open and seemed to be empty. A handful of smelters were going about their business, but a young seafaring man looked up as he pushed one of the dinghies into the water. ‘D’yer know where young Tom is, sur? We’ve got two smacks comin’ in from Wales in an hour an’ we need ’im.’
Joshua gulped. ‘No, sorry. I have no idea. But give me a minute or two and I will come down and give you a hand with the dinghy. I am used to dinghies.’
The man knuckled his forehead. ‘Well, that’s kind of you. Can’t pay you, though. That will be Tom’s money.’
‘Don’t worry about that. Give me ten minutes.’
Back at the house, Rowena was waiting. ‘Were they there?’ she asked anxiously.
‘No. They have stripped the barracks bare, it seems, then gone and taken the contraband from where it was stored and vanished with their ill-gotten goods, presumably to sell them and pocket the money. I don’t think we shall see them again.’
‘Thank goodness for that.’
‘How is your father?’
‘Grumpy, I expect because of the wearing-off effects of the laudanum. He said that he would like to see you on your return.’
‘Sorry, but he will have to wait. I have promised to take Tom’s place on the dinghies. Two boats are coming in.’
A slow smile crept across Rowena’s face. ‘You won’t be as good as Tom. He was the best in the business.’
He gave her a mock salute and a half bow. ‘Well, I shall just have to try, won’t I? Do you have an old pair of dungarees I could wear?’
For the next six hours, Josh worked as hard as he could remember, taking it in turns with Tom’s mate to row out the dinghies and then secure the smacks behind the shelter of the wall.
On his return, Josh slipped off the dungarees and wearily climbed the stairs to see the doctor. The old man was sitting upright, propped up by pillows. He reached out a hand and Josh took it.
‘I was in pain last night when you arrived on that ledge, but I saw you kil
l Cunningham.’ Acland’s face was frowning in concentration. ‘Emma has also told me how you, er, disposed of young Pengelly’s body.’
Joshua bit his lip. ‘I want you to know,’ the doctor went on, ‘that you did the right thing in each case and I don’t want you to blame yourself for it. In fact, you were very brave to duel with Cunningham and you held your own magnificently and removed him from all our lives. You have been blamed because your presence here seems to have prompted all of this violence. That may have been true but it was not specifically your fault. There was evil here and it would have outed itself sooner or later. You were just the catalyst.’
He lay back, replaced his head on the pillow and gave a wan smile.
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Josh. ‘I feel I must tell one man about the happenings last night. Do you think that the Reverend Hawker would feel compromised in any way if he is told the truth? Would he keep it to himself?’
The smile broadened. ‘Hearing that I am ill, he will surely visit me. If I told him that I had accidentally fallen on a cutlass blade I don’t think he would believe me for a minute. So yes, tell him the truth but ask him to keep his mouth shut. That will be difficult for him because he loves a good story, and I venture to say that this is a good one. Perhaps he will write it one day. But if he does, his flock will just think that this is one of his opium dreams that he has put down on paper.
‘Now,’ he held up a hand. ‘Would you be so kind as to reach into that little drawer in the bedside table? Yes, that one. Please hand me the little bag you find in there.’
Puzzled, Joshua did so. The bag was heavy.
The doctor pulled back the drawer string and then peered inside. ‘Emma tells me,’ he said, ‘that you had thirty guineas with you when you survived the wreck of The Lucy. She also tells me that, one way or another, that sum has been severely eroded during your stay here. So …’ he reached out and handed the bag to Josh. ‘This is fifty guineas. It is given to you as a wedding present,’ he smiled, ‘whichever way your heart goes and whichever lady walks with you up the aisle – and for all I know there might be more than two for you to choose from.’
