Dark Tide Rising

by Anne Perry

  Exeter was on the witness stand. He looked pale, but more intensely alive than he had in the dock. He had taken an immense gamble, and he could smell victory. Now he was answering some question Rathbone had asked him.

  “It was the most terrible day of my life,” he said quietly.

  The atmosphere in the room had altered palpably. In the past, the jurors and the people in the gallery had looked on him as a monster. They had stared with loathing, fear, even hatred as he sat in the dock. Since Celia’s testimony, he was a hero, wrongly persecuted, deserving of all the admiration and support they could give him. Perhaps because they had made no secret of their feelings before, they were plagued by guilt now and the hunger to make amends.

  Monk felt Hester’s hand creep into his and clasp it firmly.

  Rathbone led Exeter through the succeeding days of grief, the mounting suspicion of the police, and his eventual arrest.

  “Yes,” said Exeter. “But it wasn’t Commander Monk who arrested me.”

  “Oh?” Rathbone feigned surprise. “Who was it?”

  “Superintendent Runcorn. I…” Exeter smiled, a charming, slightly lopsided gesture. “I don’t think Monk honestly ever thought I was guilty. And much as he hated it, he knew it was one of his own men who betrayed us to the kidnappers.”

  There it was! Ravenswood’s chance. Did he see it? Monk gripped Hester’s hand so hard he crushed her fingers without meaning to.

  “A painful experience for him,” Rathbone agreed. “Did he visit you in jail?”

  “Yes. He came to see me immediately and promised to get me all the assistance he could. It was he who informed you, I believe?”

  “Indeed, it was,” Rathbone agreed.

  He then led Exeter into more details of his financial affairs, ending up by referring again to Celia’s testimony that she had been with Exeter at the time of Bella Franken’s death.

  “Did it surprise you that Miss Darwin came forward?”

  “A little. We had not been close, but she certainly has been loyal all through this. She is a very quiet, retiring woman, but perhaps Kate’s…” He appeared to be fighting his emotions, which threatened to run out of control. “Kate’s closest friend.”

  “Why did you not tell the police this at the beginning?” Rathbone asked.

  “I should have. I…was still so distressed, I did not know it was the same time. I mean…I knew what time Celia came, but I did not realize what time Miss Franken had died. Kate’s death…losing her like that…I was not able to master my feelings, my pain. I find that there are gaps in my recollection of things, of ordinary things. It was Celia herself, even in her grief, who brought it to my mind.”

  “Thank you,” Rathbone said seriously. “Will you wait there in case my learned friend has some questions for you?”

  “Of course.”

  Rathbone walked back to his seat. Ravenswood stood up. He walked slowly out onto the center of the floor and looked up at Exeter.

  “You said, Mr. Exeter, that Commander Monk knew it was one of his men who betrayed you to the kidnappers? You mean, who told them the way you were going to come into the meeting place in the slums of Jacob’s Island?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did that make a great difference, really? I know it was described for the court, but I am a little lost. Would you not pass each other regardless? I didn’t know of betrayals.” Ravenswood looked confused.

  Exeter leaned forward a little in the witness stand. “There are at least three ways in, two by sea and one or two by land. They all could lead in several different directions. Imagine a large house, joined to another, with certain walls at least partially washed away and beams rotted.”

  “Sounds appalling!” Ravenswood shuddered. “But you describe it very well. In fact, rather better than Mr. Monk does.”

  Exeter smiled. Did he not realize how well he had described a place he purported not to know?

  Ravenswood smiled back. “And one of Monk’s men betrayed to the waiting kidnappers which way you were going to come in, so you could be ambushed?”

  “Yes…” Exeter’s face showed that he sensed there was something wrong, without knowing exactly what it was.

  Ravenswood did not strike yet.

  “Did he ever find out which of his men it was?”

  Exeter was surprised. “Not that he told me.”

  “And you did not know?”

  Again, Exeter hesitated. He glanced sideways at Rathbone and then back at Ravenswood. “I…suspected.”

  “Whom did you suspect? Mr. Exeter, you must have hated this man very much indeed. You would hardly be human if you did not hold him accountable for the terrible death of your wife and all the grief that has followed.” He waited with his eyebrows slightly raised, as if it were a question.

  Rathbone started to object and then changed his mind. It was clear from his face that this was not going according to his plan or foresight. The trial was over. What was Ravenswood doing?

  Monk averted his eyes and kept them from meeting Rathbone’s.

  “And why did you suspect whichever one of Monk’s men that you did, Mr. Exeter? Did you tell Monk? Challenge him to clear the man? It is a very serious charge. In a way, it is akin to murder. If he was guilty, then he is directly responsible for your wife’s appalling death, is he not?”

  Monk felt Hester’s grip tighten on his hand again. Ravenswood was playing a dangerous game, but he was playing it to win. Monk felt a certain warmth toward the man.

  “Yes,” Exeter agreed. “He was.” He let the emotions show again.

  Monk hated him with a sudden fury. He had taken them all in, Monk included. Now he was getting ready to throw Hooper to the wolves. There was a dreadful inevitability to this. Please God they had made the right choice!

  “Don’t play this for drama, Mr. Exeter,” Ravenswood said with dignified disapproval. “This is a court of law, not a theater.”

  A tide of color washed up Exeter’s face, which was surprisingly unflattering.

  Rathbone looked confused. He had been in complete control until a few minutes ago. Acquittal was within his grasp. Now something had radically changed, and he did not yet understand what it was.

  Exeter started to speak, leaning forward over the railing, then abruptly changed his mind.

  “If you did not want to tell Monk before,” Ravenswood went on, “tell him now. Doesn’t he need to know? Don’t we all? Whether it is you, or Doyle, or whoever else, that man is responsible for your wife’s death! Who betrayed her? Why? How do you know?”

  “It was Hooper!” Exeter’s voice was shrill. “John Hooper.” All the ease, the charm, vanished out of his face.

  “Indeed. How do you know this?”

  “Because I know what sort of a man he is, and maybe Doyle, or whoever it was who killed Kate, knew it, too. Blackmail is a powerful weapon when you know a secret that will send a man to the gallows.”

  “Indeed, it is,” Ravenswood said, his voice touched by sadness. He hesitated, clearly making a major decision. He looked down for a moment and then looked up again, directly at Exeter. “And is that secret that he was a merchant seaman before he joined the police? In fact, first mate on the Mary Grace when she hit a gale off the coast of Africa and very nearly ran aground because the captain had misread, or miscalculated, their position? All the men knew and tried to persuade him to alter course, further out to sea, to ride out the storm. But it was Hooper, the second in command, who faced him down. The captain attacked him, was struck by a boom as the ship veered, and was knocked to the side rail. Hooper dived after him, hung on to him for agonizing seconds, but the captain was a big man, heavy, and he slipped from Hooper’s grasp.”

  There was a silence so tense each man could hear his own breath.

  “You wonder how I knew that?” Ravenswood asked calmly. “My dear ma
n, it is my job. I heard it from Captain Ledburn’s family, just as you did. And the basis of what actually happened from another member of the crew, who works for Superintendent Runcorn. I shall call him as a witness, if his lordship will permit me. A rebuttal witness, you understand, because regrettably I need to prove that Miss Celia Darwin’s testimony was given under duress by you, on the threat of sending Mr. Hooper to the gallows.” He was interrupted by a gasp from the gallery, a wave of shock like the first murmur of a breaking storm.

  In the stand Exeter was rigid, his face mottled with purple.

  Rathbone looked one way and then the other. Then his dismay melted into a dazed realization.

  The crowd subsided, utterly silent now, waiting.

  Ravenswood continued, “As Mr. Doyle would have been, if convicted of the crime with which he would be charged.”

  Monk felt poised on the edge of victory, appallingly guilty of what he had done to Rathbone, and yet he could see no way out of it. In the stand, Exeter was almost frozen in disbelief.

  The judge looked at Rathbone. “Sir Oliver, do you need time to consult with your client? Do you wish to call Mr….er…Fisk, is it?”

  Rathbone rose to his feet. “Yes, my lord. Thank you. I think perhaps it is best we leave no doubt in the jury’s mind as to who is telling the truth. Mr. Fisk may say something entirely different under oath. Either way, my client has the right to face his accuser and rebut his accusations.” He did not look up at Exeter in the stand.

  Monk had known Rathbone well for years. They had won all sorts of cases together. Rathbone would not give up, whatever vortex whirled around his mind at this moment. Could he possibly still believe Exeter innocent? He had to fight anyway. He was sworn to take part on Exeter’s side, whatever his private opinion of the man—unless he knew something both certain and provable to the contrary. He would take care not to put himself in that position.

  Exeter was temporarily excused. Stiffly fumbling his way down the steps, his face contorted with rage, he was escorted back to the dock.

  Fisk was duly called. As Ravenswood had said, he was in court, and it took only a few moments for the usher to find him outside.

  He walked down the aisle of the gallery in such silence that one could hear the creak of corsets as a woman turned to look at him. He took the witness stand and swore to his identity and present occupation in the Metropolitan Police, stationed at Greenwich.

  “Thank you, Mr. Fisk,” Ravenswood addressed him. “Were you previously in the Merchant Navy?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And some twenty years ago, you were on board the Mary Grace, off the coast of Africa, under the command of Captain Ledburn?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Will you please give this court a brief account of the events, as you know them from your own observations, leading up to the storm and the death of Captain Ledburn? Friendship and loyalty are both important to any decent man, Mr. Fisk, but without integrity, you have little to give anyone.”

  “Yes, sir.” Fisk stood straight-backed and faced Ravenswood without any apparent awe. He did not waste words. “Captain Ledburn made a wrong reading, or calculation, as to our position. Mr. Hooper told him he was incorrect, but the captain wouldn’t listen.”

  “Do you know for yourself it was incorrect?” Ravenswood interrupted him. “Or are you taking Mr. Hooper’s word for it?”

  “At the time, I took Mr. Hooper’s word for it, but later events proved him right. By then, we were much too close to the coast, and when the storm came, we were in danger of being driven onto the reefs, and—”

  “How do you know that?” Again, Ravenswood interrupted him. “Most of us here are landsmen. On the open sea, we would have no idea of where we were.”

  “You can see the white water, sir. And if the wind is offshore, you can hear the roar of it.”

  “I see. I can only imagine the fear that must cause a man. Would you survive such a wreck?”

  “I never knew anyone as did.”

  “What happened?”

  “The captain realized what he’d done and gave the order to shorten sail. But you couldn’t send a man up the mast in weather like that. Mr. Hooper gave the order to come about and go before the wind. It was the only chance we had.”

  “Clearly, you survived.”

  “Yes, sir. But the captain was angry because he was scared, and confused. There was no time for an argument. Rain and wind and water…there was little chance of hearing what anyone said, anyhow. She came about hard, and one of the sheets snapped loose and—”

  “Sheets?”

  “Ropes, sir. One of them snapped under the strain, the weight of the ship against the wind, and the end of it caught the captain. Swept him over to the side, but he clung on. Mr. Hooper went to haul him back, but Captain Ledburn was a heavy man, and Hooper couldn’t hold on to him long enough to prevent him going over.”

  “Into the sea,” Ravenswood confirmed.

  “Yes, sir. We reported him lost at sea when we came back to London. For his family’s sake, we didn’t tell everyone it was his own miscalculation that near lost us all our lives. The ship’s owners wrote it as a mutiny, sir, but it wasn’t. We went against a wrong order that would have killed the captain and lost the ship, too.”

  “Why would anyone report it as a mutiny?” Ravenswood asked, shaking his head in incredulity.

  “Insurance, sir. That’s a crime, so the ship owners are not to blame for it. Captain’s miscalculations are their fault. They picked him for the captain.”

  “You sure of that?”

  “You asked me why anyone would do it. I told you the only reason I know of. Captain Ledburn wasn’t a bad man, sir, just didn’t believe in himself enough to be able to admit when he was wrong.”

  There was a moment’s silence, then Ravenswood nodded slowly. “Yes, indeed, Mr. Fisk. That may be the core of more tragedies than this. Who else knows of these events, so far as you are aware?”

  “Most of us that were on the ship, and Captain Ledburn’s family.”

  “Are you sure they know?”

  “Yes, sir. I told them, sir. I took along with me other witnesses, but I wanted them to know the truth.”

  “When was that?”

  “Just a few days ago, sir. I kept quiet before, as the captain wasn’t a bad man, just weak. It was hard enough for them that they lost him. Didn’t need to know the rest.”

  “What changed a few days ago?”

  “Mr. Exeter found out about the incident and used it to make Miss Darwin lie, in order not to have Mr. Hooper hanged, sir. I suppose he looked it up. Anyone could have, if they knew the right people and wanted it bad enough.”

  “And would you lie in order to save Mr. Hooper from being hanged, Mr. Fisk?”

  “I don’t know, sir. I think nobody knows what he’ll do if he’s not been tested. But I don’t have to. I was there and I told you the truth. Miss Darwin wasn’t. And I suppose she would rather see a guilty man go free, like Mr. Exeter, than an innocent one be hanged, like Mr. Hooper. Doesn’t the law say something like that?”

  “Yes, Mr. Fisk, it does.” Ravenswood agreed quietly. “In fact, it goes further. It says a dozen guilty men should go free rather than one innocent man be hanged. But in this case, we have only one guilty man, even though three people are dead, and it would have been four, if Mr. Doyle had taken the blame for the crime being tried. I have nothing further to ask you. Please remain where you are, in case Sir Oliver has questions for you.”

  Rathbone stood up slowly. He looked dazed. “My lord, I have nothing to ask of this witness. Nor do I have any wish to recall Miss Darwin. I understand why she misled us. She was on the horns of an impossible dilemma. I, too, might have preferred to see a guilty man go free rather than an innocent man hanged, whether I loved him or not. I hope I believe sufficiently in myself a
nd the ideals I hold to admit when I am wrong.”

  “Indeed, Sir Oliver, you have made it manifest that you do,” the judge replied. “I also see no reason to recall Miss Darwin.”

  Exeter turned in the dock, leaning forward, his face contorted with rage and disbelief. “Liar!” he screamed. “Liars! All of you…”

  The warders beside him yanked him back so sharply he cried out in pain, but they silenced him.

  In the gallery, Hooper tentatively put his arm around Celia, and then—when she did not move away—a little more firmly.

  Hester slid her hand into Monk’s, and he held on to her as if she were a lifeline. He felt the light, smooth strength of it as she put her other hand over his as well.

  To Clay Bunker and Christina Hogue Bunker

  for their friendship

  BY ANNE PERRY

  FEATURING WILLIAM MONK

  The Face of a Stranger

  A Dangerous Mourning

  Defend and Betray

  A Sudden, Fearful Death

  The Sins of the Wolf

  Cain His Brother

  Weighed in the Balance

  The Silent Cry

  A Breach of Promise

  The Twisted Root

  Slaves of Obsession

  Funeral in Blue

  Death of a Stranger

  The Shifting Tide

  Dark Assassin

  Execution Dock

  Acceptable Loss

  A Sunless Sea

  Blind Justice

  Blood on the Water

  Corridors of the Night

  Revenge in a Cold River

  An Echo of Murder

  Dark Tide Rising

  FEATURING CHARLOTTE AND THOMAS PITT

  The Cater Street Hangman

  Callander Square

  Paragon Walk

  Resurrection Row

  Rutland Place