But if so, whose could have been the boat? Where could it have been coming from, where going to? Why this stealthy approach to the shore without lights? What could have been Teer’s business with those on board?
At once Mallace’s launch occurred to French, not because he had any reason to connect it with the mysterious visitor to Kirkandrews Bay, but because it was a launch already connected with the case. But he didn’t think it could be Mallace’s. It seemed too big a round for it to have made in the time. However, its speed was known, together with the hours of its departure from Barrow and its arrival at Portpatrick. An examination of the atlas and a simple calculation would therefore clear this point up. In vain French continued to question M’Leod in the hope of getting some further fact. The man had clearly told all he knew. Nor did detailed inquiries among the other residents of the district lead to anything. Puzzled, but more determined than ever to unravel the tangle, French returned late that night to Stranraer and after a long delayed meal, turned in.
16
Cumberland
By that same evening, the whole of the alternative roads from Castle-Douglas to Stranraer had been combed by the police, and French sat down in his room at the hotel to consider the information he had obtained.
This was certainly meagre enough. In addition to his own discovery at Kirkandrews Bay, the car—or what might have, been the car—had been seen only once. At a little place called Girthon, a labourer who had been up on that Wednesday night attending to his sick wife heard a car and saw its lights about half past five. It was running quickly from the direction of Kirkandrews Bay and towards the main road from Castle-Douglas to Gatehouse-of-Fleet and Stranraer. Girthon was about five miles from Kirkandrews Bay, and if the hour given by the watchman was correct, the car he saw should just have passed Girthon at the time stated.
That this was Teer’s car French was inclined to believe, though he saw that pending the receipt of further information he could not be sure. In the meantime he wondered whether anything could be deduced about the launch.
A good map was his first requirement and he rang up the police station and enlisted the sergeant’s help. Soon a constable arrived with a first-rate atlas which his superior had borrowed from a friendly neighbour.
Retiring once more to his room French set methodically to work. First he scaled the distance from Barrow to Portpatrick—84 sea miles he made it. The launch had left Barrow at 9.15 at night and arrived at Portpatrick at 9.40 the next morning, that was 12 hours 25 minutes. Twelve hours 25 minutes into 84 sea miles gave a speed of about 6¾ knots—6¾ sea miles per hour—which was just about the speed Mallace stated they had run the launch.
Now, if the launch had called at Kirkandrews Bay, how much faster must it have travelled? French again began scaling. From Barrow to Kirkandrews Bay was about 54 sea miles and from Kirkandrews Bay to Portpatrick about 45, a total of 99 miles. The launch which had called at Kirkandrews Bay had waited there for about half an hour, so that if this were Teer’s, only about 12 hours could be taken as running time. Ninety-nine miles divided by 12 hours gave a speed of only 8.3 knots.
Wivell, French remembered, had given 10 knots or more as the launch’s speed. Mallace had said about 9, which agreed as nearly as the varying points of view of the two men might be expected to allow. In either case it followed that, so far as speed was concerned, the Kirkandrews Bay launch might well have been Mallace’s.
For a moment French wondered why, if there had been anything underhand about the trip, Mallace should have made that admission about not running at full speed. Then he saw that Mallace could have done nothing else. The speed he gave—7 knots—would check in well enough with his hours of departure and arrival and so would not arouse suspicion. But supposing that from some other cause suspicion were aroused, an inquiry from Wivell would at once obtain the launch’s real maximum. The fact that Mallace had kept this, back would therefore tend to confirm the suspicion.
As French continued turning the matter over in his mind, he suddenly saw that still further evidence was in his hands. If the launch were Mallace’s, between what hours must it have called at Kirkandrews Bay? These, he saw, would be fixed by the hours at which it left Barrow and reached Portpatrick. Taking Wivell’s figure of 10 knots as maximum, he found that to do the 54 sea miles between Barrow and Kirkandrews Bay would have taken about 5 hours 25 minutes. Five hours 25 minutes after 9.15 p.m., the time of leaving Barrow, would bring it to 2.40 a.m. According to M’Leod the launch had actually arrived at Kirkandrews Bay at about 4.45. Therefore, so far, the launch could not only have done the journey, but done it at a speed far below its maximum.
Eagerly French went on to the next stage of the journey, from Kirkandrews Bay to Portpatrick. From, say, 5.10 a.m. to 9.40 a.m., the hours of departure and arrival, was 4 hours 30 minutes. The distance was 45 sea miles, which gave a speed of exactly 10 knots, just within the boat’s capacity.
While this looked satisfactory enough, French was aware that the run of tides, currents and wind might entirely invalidate his results. Next morning, therefore, he sought out the local coastguard officer, put the case before him and asked his advice. He was overjoyed to find that while his speeds required some slight modification, his conclusions stood.
It was at least possible, therefore, that Mallace had put into Kirkandrews Bay and had there been met by Teer. If so, it was not hard to guess the motive. In the event of the theft of the plans being discovered it was desirable that they should at the earliest moment be passed on to a secure hiding place. And what hiding place could be more secure than the launch, which obviously could not in any way have come in contact with Sir John?
But possibilities were no use to a C.I.D. inspector trying to build up a case for a jury. Could he not anywhere get proof?
It occurred to him to work out the speed at which the launch had travelled on the next section of its journey.
According to the Portpatrick longshoremen it had left there about midnight on the Thursday night. The Campbeltown sergeant had stated that it had arrived at his port at 7.15 the next morning. The distance between the two places was 41 sea miles and this gave an average speed of 5¾ knots.
French scratched his head thoughtfully. This did not work in with the theory of the call at Kirkandrews Bay. On the contrary, it looked as if the party really had travelled at a greatly reduced speed throughout. From his conversations with the quartet he had the departures and arrivals of three other trips, and of these he next worked out the speeds. They were 7½, 6¼ and 6½ knots respectively.
French swore. At first it had certainly looked as if he had hit on something vital, but now he began to doubt it. Brooding morosely over the problem, he racked his brains to find some further test which might differentiate truth from falsehood.
The running of the launch at something over half speed, Mallace had stated, was to reduce the noise and vibration. The reduction must surely have been considerable to make it worth while putting up with the slower speed. Mallace admitted he could not get enough sleep owing to visiting his agents during the day and running the launch at night. Surely under these circumstances he would have put up with a little discomfort in order to complete the run quickly and so get to bed? French shook his head. It looked fishy. Undoubtedly, the whole business looked fishy.
Suddenly he brightened up. Here at last was something that he could test. Was a speed of 6 knots really much more pleasant than one of 10? He wondered if it would be worth while going back to Barrow and trying.
The result of his cogitations was that two days later—the next day was Sunday—he walked once more into Messrs Wivell’s office and asked for the senior partner.
‘It’s the Sea Hawk again, I’m afraid,’ he apologised. ‘Could you hire her to me for a couple of hours?’
Fifty minutes later he was aboard.
‘I want,’ he explained to his crew of one engineer-navigator, ‘to run her all out and see what she’ll do. Then I want to run her at ten knots and t
hen at six. I want to feel the vibration. Is there a measured mile we could test her on?’
The ‘crew’ suggested that they should run between two buoys, whose distance apart he knew. Accordingly very carefully they made their tests. First they ran the distance a couple of times at six knots until the motor got well heated and until French’s internal mechanism had registered the resultant amount of noise and vibration. Then the crew suddenly put his throttle to full open. The motor responded promptly and the launch began to slip at nearly twice the speed through the water.
For a moment French’s internal mechanism suspended judgment and then it gave a report which sent a little shiver of delight down his spine. The noise and vibration were increased truly, but only to the most trifling extent! The launch was old and massive, even clumsy, and the motor was small, too small to send more than a tiny tremor through the heavy timbers.
So Mallace had lied! If he had reduced the speed of the launch it was certainly not because of its unpleasant vibration. At full speed it had no unpleasant vibration. Would Mallace then—short of sleep as he was—have spent twelve and a half hours going from Barrow to Portpatrick when he could as easily have done the distance in something over eight?
French did not think so. Suddenly he became sure—as sure as it was possible to be without proof—that Mallace had done nothing of the kind. The man had taken twelve hours because he had called at Kirkandrews Bay and met Teer, and his speed from there to Portpatrick had been the maximum the boat would do.
With the throttle open they were now slipping through the water at quite a reasonable rate; not in it with modern speed-boats, of course, but not bad for a heavy boat like the Sea Hawk. They had timed their start and with some eagerness French waited till they had completed their course to learn their speed. It proved to be just under 10¾ knots.
This was eminently satisfactory, and as that evening he sat puzzling over the whole affair in the corner of the hotel lounge, the questions he returned to again and again were: Did Mallace call at Kirkandrews Bay, and if so, how can proof be obtained?
His thoughts returned with some misgivings to the speeds on the subsequent nights, also far below maximum. What games were the quartet up to on these later trips? Then he saw that the slow running involved no evil activities. It was simply a matter of ordinary precaution. If for some nefarious purpose they had run at half speed on one lap of their trip, they must do so on all. If the vibrations were too great to run at full speed on Wednesday night it would not do to ignore it on Thursday. They could not afford to discount their own explanation.
There being nothing, then, in this matter of the speed on subsequent nights, French turned back to the troublesome question, how was proof of a visit to Kirkandrews Bay to be obtained?
He began slowly pacing the room, now happily deserted. Then an idea occurred to him, and as before he borrowed a map and began to pore over it.
Barrow to Kirkandrews Bay would be a coasting trip, at least as far as St. Bees Head. He ruled a line along the course. After rounding the projection at Annaside, where Mallace would pass as close to the shore as was safe, he would run from three to four miles off shore till he reached St. Bees Head. Whitehaven, which was well round the shoulder of St. Bees, he would pass within seven miles. That was of course unless he deliberately deviated from the direct line.
On the other hand, if he had gone straight to Portpatrick he would have headed well out to the north-west, passing indeed not far from the Point of Ayre, the northern promontory of the Isle of Man.
French’s idea was that it would be worth while having inquiries made along the shore at all these places in the hope that the launch might have been seen or heard. Admittedly it was a long shot, but he didn’t see any other line of investigation.
Accordingly he got in touch by telephone with the police authorities in Cumberland and the Isle of Man, explaining what he required. To the former he added that he was going to Whitehaven and would himself work from there along the shore to the south, and asking for any help that could be given.
Then commenced a slow and wearisome inquiry. Next morning he began by interviewing the harbourmasters at Maryport, Workington and Whitehaven in order to learn whether any vessel had reached or left their respective harbours which might have seen the launch. This involved looking up records and working out distances, but all three men did their best for him and he got the information without undue delay. But it was all negative. No steamer had passed at the desired hour.
Starting then at Whitehaven, French began calling at police and coastguard stations, gradually working his way south. In each new district he began his inquiries with fresh hope, each he presently left with an increased sense of futility and disappointment. The further he went the more hopeless his quest seemed to grow. It was, he admitted to himself, a pretty thin chance on which he was banking. A launch three or four miles from the shore would be out of earshot from the land except under the most favourable conditions. On a dark night, moreover, it would be utterly out of sight, particularly if Mallace had run without lights. French indeed believed that his only hope was the remote possibility that the launch’s path had crossed that of some other vessel, though even in this case the chances were enormously against his finding the vessel in question.
For several days, however, he worked steadily on, until indeed he had nearly reached the end of the available stretch of coast. And then just as he was preparing himself for failure, he heard something.
It appeared that the police at Bootle had learned that a young farm labourer who lived at Easkmeals had visited a friend at Bootle on the night in question, and had set out to walk home at about half past ten o’clock. Bootle, which is not to be confused with the place of the same name near Liverpool, is a Cumberland village lying within a couple of miles of the sea and nearly halfway between Barrow and St. Bees Head. From it the road leads down to the coast near Tarn Bay, then turns north and runs, at first close to the shore, to Easkmeals.
When the labourer, whose name was Ritson, had left Tarn Bay half a mile behind him and was walking parallel and close to the sea, he noticed in front of him a red light. This, as he approached, resolved itself into the rear light of a saloon car, standing on the sea side of the road and facing north. It was a fine night and though there was no moon the stars were brilliant and Ritson could dimly see the surrounding country.
He had come within about fifty yards of the car when a man appeared like a shadow from the shore. It was too dark to see him distinctly, but he was hurrying and Ritson thought there was something furtive about his movements. He appeared suddenly mounting the slope from the sea, and running to the car, got in. Just as Ritson reached it the car moved off and disappeared rapidly towards the north.
Ritson thought the whole affair unusual, but it was not his business and he dismissed it from his mind. But not more than five or ten minutes later he heard another sound, also a motor being started up. This time it came from the sea. Ritson stopped to listen and he soon became satisfied that a launch, which evidently had been lying close inshore, had restarted. The sound grew gradually fainter, at last dying away in a northerly direction.
The more French thought over this story, the more interesting he found it. Here were a car and a launch, admittedly both unknown, but all the same the combination thrilled him. Was it possible that he had found not only what he wanted, but vastly, enormously, unbelievably more? His excitement grew as he asked himself if by any incredible chance it could have been Teer’s car which the labourer had seen and Mallace’s launch which he had heard? He whistled softly. Here were possibilities with a vengeance!
When he came down again to earth he saw that there was a test which he could immediately apply. Once again, distances, times, speeds! Was it possible for Mallace and Teer to have been in the district at the time in question! If not, it ended the matter. But if it was possible … It seemed to French that the possibility of this would be mighty near to proof. Once more he took out his map.
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br /> If Ritson had left Bootle at 10.30 he must have reached the meeting place about 11.00. Now first as to the launch.
The Sea Hawk had left Barrow at 9.15. Assume it had reached Tarn Bay before 11.0, say at 10.50. The distance scaled about 15 sea miles. This gave a speed of just under 10 knots.
French breathed more freely. Nothing could be more satisfactory. He had crossed his first fence. Now for the car.
It was not so easy to find the distances by land, but by dint of careful scaling, French got what he believed must be approximately correct—near enough to settle his immediate problem at all events.
From Carlisle to Tarn Bay scaled 61 miles, about he reckoned, two and a half hours’ run. Teer had left Carlisle at 8.10, so that he should have been easily able to reach Tarn Bay at 10.40. So far, so good.
From Carlisle to Castle-Douglas, French estimated at 52 miles; say a two-hour run. In other words it should be possible to drive from Tarn Bay to Castle-Douglas in about 4½ hours. Four and a half hours after 11.00 p.m. brought one to 3.30 a.m. But Teer presumably had reached Castle-Douglas only in time to meet the train at 3.59, therefore he could easily have done this run also.
His second fence! French felt absolutely triumphant. He hadn’t achieved proof of course; all the same he would have staked his reputation that he was right.
As he considered the matter further he saw that if true it would clear up a point which had puzzled him a good deal, namely, why Mallace had not sailed more quickly from Barrow to Kirkandrews Bay. Now he saw the reason. The whole trip from Barrow to Portpatrick had been done at the maximum speed possible. From Barrow to Tarn Bay and from Kirkandrews Bay to Portpatrick the launch had done its full ten knots. On the intermediate section from Tarn Bay to Kirkandrews Bay the speed of the launch had been low, but here the launch had not been the ruling factor. The distance by sea between these two places was only 39 sea miles while by land it was 113 miles. Therefore over this section the speed of the car had ruled. And this—25 miles per hour or more—was reasonably fast for night travelling.
Inspector French: Sir John Magill's Last Journey Page 19
