When he did not reply, she looked up at his face. ‘Kit, what’s wrong? You’re acting very strangely. Did… did you have a bad time in Africa?’
‘The slavers found out about my being a spy for the Slave Trade Department.’
She gasped, and her hand flew to her mouth. ‘My word! They didn’t try to harm you, did they?’ she asked, and then her features softened into a smile. ‘But so what if they did try? Nothing could hurt my Kit.’
He shook his head. ‘You’re wrong there, Eulalia. I can be very, very deeply hurt indeed. By something like betrayal.’
She knitted her brow. ‘Betrayal? What on earth are you talking about?’
‘Only five people knew of my mission, or even knew enough to guess what it was, in time to get word to the slavers. Three of them were above suspicion. The fourth was myself.’
‘And the fifth?’
‘Was you, Eulalia.’
She shook her head. ‘No, Kit. You’re mistaken. I wouldn’t do anything to harm you, you know that. I love you.’
‘But you love your father more. Is he in?’
Her eyes flickered up towards the ceiling, and she bit her lip.
‘I’d better go and have a word with him.’ He went out into the hallway once more.
She caught up with him halfway up the stairs and grabbed him by the arm. ‘Please, Kit. You’re wrong about this, I promise you. If you love me, you’ll forget about my father and leave him out of it. What’s done is done. You’re here and in one piece and that’s all that matters. No one else was hurt.’
He turned to face her. ‘No one else was hurt?’ he echoed incredulously. ‘What about all the Africans that have been enslaved and carried off to the Americas?’
‘What about them? For heaven’s sake, Kit! They’re only niggers.’
He raised a hand to strike her in a sudden access of rage. She stared at him in horror, but he caught himself. He had never struck a woman in his life and he did not intend to start now. Instead he looked down at her, not with pity but with loathing and contempt. Then he turned and continued up the stairs.
She ran after him and caught him at the halfway landing. ‘No, Kit. Please. Not my father. Whatever it is you think him guilty of… Please, Kit, no. Don’t do this…’
Killigrew continued implacably up the stairs. He glanced up and saw Sir Joshua standing there, gazing bleakly down at him. Then Pengelly turned abruptly and disappeared into his study, slamming the door behind him.
Killigrew broke free of Eulalia and ran up to the door, but Pengelly had locked it. Killigrew threw his shoulder against it, once, twice, and then stood back to kick it open.
A shot rang out on the other side. Killigrew flinched, half expecting a bullet to come flying through the planks, but this was Knightsbridge, not the Guinea Coast.
He kicked the door open and at that moment Eulalia reached his side. She took one look through the door and turned away with a sob.
‘Christ!’ whispered Killigrew. He was used to bloodshed, but that was on active service, not in a genteel suburb of London.
Eulalia suddenly flung herself at him, clawing at his eyes. ‘You… you bastard! You killed him, you bastard! You did this! You did this!’
He caught her by the wrists and held her at bay, alarmed by her fury. The servants came rushing up the stairs. The footman and the butler took Eulalia between them while the housekeeper glanced into the study. ‘Holy mother of God! Is it the master?’
The butler glanced at the body. ‘It looks like it.’
Eulalia was still struggling in the footman’s arms, screaming and lashing out at Killigrew with her legs. ‘You’d better leave, sir,’ the footman said disdainfully. ‘I’ve got your card for when the police get here. I dare say they’ll want to speak to you about this.’
‘I dare say,’ agreed Killigrew.
He wandered out of the house in a daze, crossed the road, and entered the park opposite. He sat down on a bench overlooking the Serpentine, buried his face in his hands, and wept.
Before he had set out on his mission, he had told Napier he would give anything to see the slave trade stopped. Now he realised just what that had meant.
* * *
‘I still can’t believe you used me as human bait to draw out Sir George Grafton,’ Killigrew said bitterly. He had to raise his voice above the clamour of the engine and the plashing of the paddle-wheels as the ferry steamed east past the Naval Dockyard at Woolwich, bound for Gravesend and Chatham. ‘I could have been killed!’
‘Oh, don’t be like that! I knew you’d pull through somehow. Besides, I made sure Able Seaman Molineaux was in place to watch your back, didn’t I? How is Molineaux, by the way?’
‘Doing well. Mr Strachan says he’ll have full use of his leg again in no time. And he did save my life. In fact I couldn’t have done it without him.’
‘There you go then. I knew I could rely on that fellow. Just goes to prove that a blackamoor can be just as clever and stout a chap as any, eh? Must make sure I get Molineaux a berth on a decent ship, come to think of it.’
‘Come to think of it, you should make sure I get a berth on a decent ship.’
‘One thing at a time, Lieutenant. I got you back your commission, didn’t I? So where would you like to go next? Another crack at the slavers? We may have rooted out one nest of the vile scum, but I suspect there are plenty more where they came from.’
Killigrew shook his head. ‘I think I can rest contented that I’ve done my share against the slavers, sir.’
‘So, which cause do you wish to turn your attentions to now, eh?’
‘Now that you mention it, sir, I did hear that they’re having problems with pirates in the China Seas.’
‘China,’ said Napier, and sighed. ‘I’ll see what I can arrange.’
‘You might also care to pay me that one hundred guineas you owe me.’
‘Good heavens! I’d forgotten all about that. Will you take a cheque?’
Killigrew nodded. ‘Better make it out to Sir Andrew Strachan, QC. By an unfortunate coincidence, one hundred guineas just happens to be the retainer he’s demanding before he’ll act as my counsel in the Videira action.’
‘You haven’t heard, then?’
‘Heard what?’
‘It seems Videira’s new ship got stopped off the coast of Liberia with a hold full of slaves by the USS Narwhal. Apparently the testimony of one Lieutenant Lanier went a long way to convincing the court of his guilt.’
‘Good old Lanier,’ said Killigrew. Since slavery was equated with piracy, the captain could only have received one punishment for his crime. ‘But what about his family? Don’t they want to take up the case?’
‘Videira didn’t have any family, so his lawyers will have to drop the action.’
‘Thank God for that,’ sighed Killigrew. ‘Lord knows how I’d’ve paid Sir Andrew’s fees. My agent tells me that my share of the head money for all those slaves we rescued at the Owodunni Barracoon comes to precisely sixteen pounds, three shillings and six pence.’
‘You never were in it for the money.’
‘It’s just as well,’ Killigrew said bitterly. It was reassuring to know there was some justice in the world, but that was small compensation when he remembered Eulalia and thought of what he had lost. But that was just the price he had to pay for being a slave to his principles.
‘Oh, buck up, man!’ said Napier. ‘I know we never did find out who was behind the slavers. But we’ll get him one day.’
‘I wasn’t thinking about that, sir.’
‘What, then? No, wait: let me guess. It wouldn’t have something to do with that young lady you went off to see after we spoke with Sir George, by any chance?’
Killigrew smiled sadly. ‘I think you can safely say that.’ Napier glanced to where Miss Chance stood in the bow of the ferry, gazing with the rapture of an excited schoolboy at the ships in the docks. ‘It wasn’t… ah…?’
‘Miss Chance? No, it wasn’t her.’
‘Well, when I was your age and I was jilted, I used to say that being in love was like steeplechasing. Ever done any steeplechasing, Killigrew? Capital sport. If you take a tumble, the important thing to do is not let the experience put you off. Got to get straight back in the saddle, eh?’ Napier winked, and nudged him in the ribs.
Killigrew smiled. ‘Miss Chance will make someone an admirable wife one day, if she chooses to,’ he admitted. ‘But I fear our paths go separate ways. We had a good heart-to- heart over dinner at Rules last night. She’s determined to go back to Africa to do missionary work in Liberia.’
‘After all that she’s been through?’
Killigrew nodded. ‘Now more than ever. And it wouldn’t be fair for me to expect her to marry a naval officer.’
Napier sighed, doubtless thinking of the family he was leaving behind as he returned to the flagship of the Channel Fleet. ‘You’re right. It’s a hard life for the womenfolk, being married to us naval officers. A crotchety old fool like me in particular. Oh, by the way, did you hear about Sir Joshua Pengelly? Terrible business. Something to do with irregularities in his financial affairs. Still, I dare say there’ll be plenty left in the coffers for his daughter to get by on. What’s her name? Euphemia?’
‘Eulalia.’
‘That’s it. Eulalia. You used to be a friend of the family, didn’t you?’
‘Used to be. Excuse me a moment, sir.’ Killigrew moved aft to where one of the hands was lowering the accident boat in its davits. ‘Good morning,’ he said, talking to the boatman more as an excuse not to talk to Napier than because he was particularly concerned about what the man was doing.
The man was bent over the taffrail with his back to Killigrew. When he turned, Killigrew found himself staring into Eli Coffin’s venomous eyes and the muzzle of a pistol.
‘Don’t put your hands up,’ snarled Coffin. ‘Just put ’em in the pockets of your pants nice and easy, as if we’re shooting the breeze. That’s it. Now let’s go down below and I’ll show you the engine room.’
The engine room was noisy, even by engine-room standards. The piston arms were a blur, and the whole engine seemed to be working much too quickly for its own good, shuddering and vibrating. Killigrew glanced at the pressure gauge and saw that it was way too high.
‘Keep moving,’ ordered Coffin, and prodded him in the back with the pistol. He had to shout to make himself heard above the din of the engine.
As Killigrew moved around the back of the engine space he found the ferry-boat’s engineer. His throat had been slit from ear to ear. ‘Your handiwork, I suppose?’ he shouted.
With his left hand Coffin reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a pair of manacles, tossing them to Killigrew. ‘Attach one cuff to your wrist and the other to that pipe there,’ he bellowed into Killigrew’s ear.
Playing for time, Killigrew clipped the first bracelet over the pipe, removing the key from the cuff to lock it in place. ‘You do realise that the pressure is far too high, don’t you?’ he roared. ‘If you don’t open the release valve soon, the boilers will explode.’
Coffin grinned. ‘That’s the general idea. Mr Salazar asked me to kill the rear-admiral, and to make it look like an accident. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. And as an added bonus I get to kill you and that bitch Miss Chance.’
‘Salazar’s dead,’ shouted Killigrew. ‘And Madison.’
‘Oh, I heard all about that, you Limey sonuvabitch. This here’s what you might be calling my revenge.’
Light fell on them both as the door leading up on deck opened and Napier stood there. ‘Hullo, Killigrew. Come to look at the engines? Mind if I join you?’
Coffin started to turn the pistol on him. Killigrew reached up and pulled down the handle on one of the release valves. A jet of steam shot out and Coffin screamed as his face was scalded. Killigrew grabbed him by the wrist and forced the gun to one side. They struggled chest to chest for a moment in the cramped space alongside the machinery, Killigrew slowly forcing the muzzle of the pistol towards the blur that was the piston arm. There was a clang and the pistol was snatched from Coffin’s grip.
Killigrew at once broke free and grabbed hold of an overhead beam, pulling himself up to kick Coffin in the chest. The American was thrown back against the bulkhead and cracked his head. Killigrew grabbed him while he was still dazed and clipped the second bracelet of the manacles over his wrist. Napier hobbled down the steps. ‘What in the world…?’
As Coffin pulled frantically on the manacle, glaring and spitting at them both, Killigrew backed away, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. ‘One of the slavers, sir,’ he shouted to Napier. ‘He came here to kill us both in revenge.’
He turned his attention to the engine, pulling on the handle of the main release valve, but it was jammed. ‘The swine’s sabotaged it!’
‘Can you fix it?’ shouted Napier.
‘Not enough time. Tell everyone to abandon ship!’
Napier hurried up the steps to the door, and Killigrew was about to follow him when Coffin shouted after him.
‘Killigrew! Shipmate! You ain’t gonna leave me here, are you?’
Killigrew glared at him, and then noticed a toolbox at his feet. He gave it a kick so that it slid along the floor and came to rest by Coffin’s ankles. ‘You broke it. You fix it.’
By the time he emerged on deck everyone was leaping over the sides without bothering to lower the accident boats; they were only a hundred yards from the river bank. Only Miss Chance dithered by the rail.
Killigrew charged towards her along the length of the deck. ‘Jump! She’s going to blow!’
‘I can’t swim!’ she wailed.
‘I won’t let you drown!’ he shouted, and launched himself at her. He caught her around the waist. The two of them went over the side and hit the water with a splash. At once Killigrew supported her, keeping her head above water as he towed her clear of the paddle-wheel which bore down on them. The ferry had just passed them when there was a loud clang and a moment later there came a sound like a huge bell cracking followed by an ear-splitting roar. The midships section of the paddle-boat disintegrated in a sudden bloom of steam, while jagged fragments of iron hurtled in every direction, raining down on the water like a thousand musket balls. The twin smoke stacks shot straight up into the air, and then dropped down once more, spinning lazily until they splashed into the river to windward.
‘Are you oh-kay?’ Killigrew asked Miss Chance.
‘Yes,’ she gasped.
The ferry had been ripped in two as if it were no more than a flimsy child’s toy which had been smashed in a childish fit of temper. The two halves rapidly began to sink, bows and stern tilting up towards the sky. The accident boat still floated, attached to the taffrail by its painter. Killigrew swam across to it and got Miss Chance to hold on to the boat’s gunwale while he took out his clasp knife and sawed through the painter moments before the stern sank.
Soon there was no trace that the ferry had ever existed except for people swimming in the water and Killigrew and Miss Chance clinging to the accident boat. Fortunately they were in the middle of the busiest waterway in the western world, and within seconds a coal lighter was adjusting course and heaving to in order to rescue the survivors.
Killigrew held the accident boat steady so that Miss Chance could climb in. He scrambled over the gunwale after her and glanced to where Napier and several others were being helped aboard the lighter. ‘Did everyone get off in time?’
‘I think so,’ she told him. ‘What happened?’
‘It was Coffin. Are you all right?’
‘Well, this dress is ruined and my hair’s a mess, but I think I’ll survive. And I expect I’ll miss the packet to Monrovia now.’
‘Don’t worry. There’ll be another one in a month.’
‘A month,’ she echoed, and lay back on the bottom boards. She smiled up at him archly. ‘Whatever shall I do for a whole month?’
He grinned. ‘Have you
ever tried steeplechasing?’
Afterword
Larger Than Life?
This story may seem far-fetched, but ninety per cent of it is based on historical fact. The Royal Navy never – as far as I am aware – used undercover spies to provide information about the slavers (although they did benefit from many ex-slavers who turned informer), but otherwise the methods used by the Royal Navy in the suppression of the slave trade, and those of the slavers they pursued, are authentic.
The climax of the story is inspired by a true incident which took place in 1847, when a slaver’s barracoon was destroyed by an alliance of the Royal Navy and local people with the connivance of the captain of the USS Dolphin; as Hugh Thomas points out on page 692 of his authoritative work The Slave Trade (Simon and Schuster Inc., New York, 1997), this was ‘an unusual example of British–North American collaboration’.
Francisco Salazar is fictional but he is based on Pedro Blanco, a slaver whose barracoon at the mouth of the Gallinas River was destroyed by Captain Joseph Denman of HMS Wanderer in 1841, although by then Blanco had already retired a millionaire. Very few of the men who profited from the slave trade were ever brought to justice. Although slave trading warranted the death penalty under British law, there is no record of it ever having been carried out.
The Owodunni Barracoon is based on Blanco’s barracoon, harem and all. When Denman heard that two British subjects – a black woman named Fry Norman and her child – were being held prisoner by the King of Gallinas, who was probably supplying slaves to Blanco’s successor, Denman used this as an excuse to attack and destroy the barracoon. One of the slave traders found at the barracoon, a Señor Buron, although not a British subject and not therefore subject to British law, begged Denman to take him away with him for fear of what the natives would do to him if he was left behind. Denman agreed, and in return for his kindness Buron sued him for the destruction of his goods which had been at the barracoon. The case dragged on for years, Denman having to defend himself as the navy did not support its officers when they were subjected to such legal attacks; fortunately Denman’s father was a Chief Justice and he won the case in the end. It was while he was in England fighting the case that he wrote and had published his Instructions for the Guidance of Her Majesty’s Naval Officers Employed in the Suppression of the Slave Trade, presumably to help his fellow officers avoid falling into the same legal snare as himself.
Killigrew of the Royal Navy Page 40
