Dying Trade

by David Donachie

  ‘There’s no one about, Harry. The ship’s deserted,’ said James.

  ‘He must still be here. I’ve practically had my eye on the ship since he came out.’

  ‘Then where’s his boat, Captain?’ said Pender.

  He noticed his servant fingering his sword and smiled. ‘Come now. He would have hired a boat to get out here. Mind, he’ll have had a job getting one to pick him up again with all this shipping coming into the harbour. I’d say that Captain Broadbridge will be glad to see us, since we can at least offer him a passage back.’

  He grabbed hold of the man-ropes that ran up the sides of the ship’s ladder and hauled himself aboard, then turned back to assist his brother. Pender followed and all three stood on the deck staring around them. Twilight now, with the sun set and the remaining light fading fast. And no sign of any lamps being lit.

  ‘Pender, find a lantern. We’ll be in the pitch dark in five minutes.’

  ‘Beggin’ your pardon, Captain. How am I to light it?’

  ‘There should be a flint around someplace. Try the binnacle locker.’

  Harry took the pistols off his servant and stuck them in his breeches. James followed Pender, walking past him, and tried the cabin door, but it was locked. He turned back and looked along the deck.

  ‘No sign of Broadbridge, at all?’ said James, gloomily, and to his brother’s mind, unnecessarily.

  ‘Nothing here, your honour,’ said Pender. ‘The locker’s practically bare.’

  ‘Let’s look below.’

  They made their way down the companionway to the lower deck, fumbling in the gathering darkness. Harry bade them stay still, while he ran his hands around the outer planking looking for a lantern. It was the slight scraping sound that alerted him, and he turned round and shot up the companionway, pushing James and Pender out of the way to rush back on deck. The boat was already a good way off, two men pulling like the devil. Harry could see the shape of Broadbridge’s tricorn hat, and he yelled his name to call him back. But the boat rowed on, oblivious of his shouts.

  ‘Damn,’ said Harry, gazing towards the shore. The sun still lit the mass of the mountains, but the city was already falling into darkness. The harbour was beginning to fill with points of light, the lanterns of the various ships either at anchor, or on the way to one. None of them was close enough to hail, since those who had made their landfall early had taken the berths inshore, and those who hadn’t had decided to stand off until dawn.

  ‘I’m afraid Captain Broadbridge has stolen a march on us, brother. He must have had a harder job getting a boat than we thought. Looks like we’re here for the night.’

  They stood, watching the darkness rise up the brown hills, turning them black. It was going to be a clear night, and the moon was beginning to rise, casting a bluish light across the deck. Finally Harry spoke.

  ‘We might as well make ourselves comfortable. I suggest that the lock on the cabin door is best left to you, Pender.’

  His servant’s teeth actually did glow in the pale moonlight and he slipped across the deck to kneel silently at the lock, pulling his instruments from his pocket as he did so. The speed of his entry showed just why so many people were eager to lay hands on him back in England. With an elaborate bow, Pender beckoned for the two brothers to pass through.

  ‘What would we do without you, Pender?’ said James, following Harry through the door.

  ‘I dare say your brother would have made an unholy mess of the door, James. I reckon that both those pistols would have been aimed at the lock in a trice.’

  ‘With the count and his pretty wife demanding compensation for its repair, as well.’

  Harry stopped just inside the cabin, James and Pender taking place beside him. Broadbridge, hatless, was silhouetted against the stern-light windows, arched back in the captain’s chair with his head at a curious angle. Harry walked over to the desk and peered closely into the face. In the poor light his tongue looked black rather than the dark purple it must be.

  ‘Light, Pender,’ said Harry softly. ‘And rip the place apart if you have to.’

  Pender started on the foot-lockers by the stern windows, moving aside some of the chairs that lined the bulkheads. Harry didn’t move, standing over Broadbridge’s body, saying nothing. Without any bidding, James joined in searching the coach and the sleeping quarters on either side of the main cabin. It was he who found the match and flint, and an oil-filled lantern to go with it. He started to light them just by the doorway to the sleeping cabin, when Harry’s hurried cry of ‘belay’ made him stop.

  ‘Something tells me that a light would be a bad idea, James.’

  James looked towards the silhouette at the rear of the cabin, still standing over the inert corpse. ‘How so?’

  Harry was momentarily surprised. Again that need to explain. ‘I’m not sure I have the right of it yet. But the people who killed Broadbridge may come back. They’ve taken our boat, so they would have good reason to think we’re stuck aboard. But there is just a chance that we could have hailed a passing boat and got off. That light would alert them, not only to the fact that we are still here, but that we are in the cabin.’

  ‘Captain Broadbridge …?’

  ‘Is beyond any help we can give, James.’

  ‘Captain’s right, Mr James. Them bastards might not have just scarpered. They might have gone to get some of their mates. Captain Broadbridge didn’t go natural.’

  ‘Relock that door, Pender. Did you find any more weapons?’

  ‘Nothing, your honour, there’s a pile of flags, and there’s this length of line which was lyin’ on the deck, but apart from that the lockers are damn near empty.’

  Harry looked up at the skylight. ‘They can only come in here two ways.’

  ‘You seem very sure they’re coming back,’ said James.

  ‘Ask yourself why Broadbridge is dead.’

  ‘How should I know? A drunken brawl?’

  ‘Even with the lack of light in the cabin you can see there’s been no drinking. And I touched him, James, he’s been dead for hours. Guesswork, I grant you, but I suspect he was doomed from the moment he came out here.’

  ‘They brought him out here to kill him?’

  ‘Yes, though who “they” are is still a mystery. Why do it, and then, having done it, why not heave the body over the side?’

  ‘We had a watch on this ship all afternoon,’ said Pender.

  ‘True,’ replied Harry. ‘They could have shoved him over the other side, mind.’

  James spoke impatiently. ‘Not with all that shipping in the harbour, Harry. Someone would be bound to observe them.’

  The three of them were feeding off each other’s thoughts, piecing things together. Pender spoke next. ‘They must have been waiting for darkness.’

  Harry: ‘But we happened along.’

  Pender: ‘Which puts us at risk.’

  James: ‘Surely they won’t come back?’

  Harry again: ‘What worries me, James, is that they will come back, with a file of marines. I think in the interests of self-preservation, it falls to us to see Captain Broadbridge to a watery grave.’

  ‘I find that a trifle barbaric, Harry. Surely he deserves a decent burial?’

  ‘It’s not something I would choose to do normally, James. But being found in a foreign port, the sole companions of a recently murdered fellow countryman, is an even less appealing prospect. Especially when you have a man like Crosby around. He would take great pleasure in swearing that we were rivals for the same ship. And I would suggest we be quick, for if these men are intent on returning, with or without someone in authority, then it won’t be long from now.’

  ‘We could deck him out in some of these flags, your honour. Be a bit more decent than just heaving him over the side.’

  ‘Make it so, Pender.’

  Harry started to go through the dead man’s pockets while his servant set to laying out the flags. Aware of his brother’s sensibilities, Harry sent James to
keep a watch on deck, adjuring him to listen more than look, for he would be likely to hear anyone approach before he’d see them.

  Wrapped in flags, they carried Broadbridge up on deck. Pender had found a length of halyard line under the flags, and the body, swathed and tied, had taken on the shape of an Egyptian mummy. Finally they lashed two rounds of shot to his feet. James turned to watch as the ghostly pair heaved the wrapped body onto the bulwarks. He heard Harry whisper ‘handsomely now’ as they lowered Captain Broadbridge into the water with the faintest splash. Pender leant over and did something James couldn’t see, just before he finally let go.

  James was still looking towards them when he heard another soft splash. He spun round and knelt to look out over the ship’s rail. Harry must have seen this movement, for he hurried over to join him.

  ‘Perhaps a fish,’ whispered James, but Harry’s hand pressing on his shoulder made him stop talking. Another soft splash, but no sound of voices.

  ‘Muffled oars,’ said Harry. He pulled James away and they made for the cabin door on all fours. Pender was already inside, and as they passed through he knelt down and fumbled in the dark, cursing softly as he hurried to relock it.

  ‘They may be headed somewhere else, Harry,’ said James.

  ‘Let’s assume they’re not just for now.’

  Harry was looking up at the skylight. It had wooden sides which projected about eighteen inches above the poop deck immediately over their heads, and was topped with a framed glass canopy, arched to catch whatever sunlight was going. Because of the sides, it was impossible to see the whole floor area from the poop. The only way to see the entire cabin was to look through the windows which covered the stern of the ship, a difficult task as they sloped inwards. Harry checked the catches that secured them, feeling that with their multitude of small glass panes they represented a difficult method of entry.

  Likewise the two side cabins, though they had casements that ran further round to each side. These sloped outwards with the hull and the catches were easier to force. Of course, there was just a chance they wouldn’t look, and be content with the cabin door, still locked and unmarked. But they might not, and if they searched the ship, they would most certainly come in here.

  Harry whispered urgently. ‘James, just inside the sleeping cabin. Keep out of sight so that they can’t see us through the side gallery casements. Pender, you do the same in the coach. If they come in through the windows, get yourselves back in here and hold the doors shut.’

  ‘That won’t stop no one for long, Captain,’ said Pender. ‘And it puts us mighty close under the skylight.’

  Harry looked around for a solution, his eyes lighting on the heavy, ornate desk that took up so much space in the cabin. ‘Do you have any of that halyard line left?’

  ‘A fair bit,’ replied Pender.

  ‘Right. Lash it to the door handles. If they come in through the side galleries, we can lash it to the feet of the desk. That should keep them out.’

  Pender had his knife out, and cutting quickly he set to. Harry saw him glance upwards towards the skylight, as he finished one and darted across the cabin to complete the other.

  ‘Our only hope is to cut down the number of ways to get in here. We don’t know how many of them there are, but they can only come in through the door or the skylight one at a time. Now get down and stay out of sight. The best we can hope for is that they will think we have somehow hailed a boat and gone ashore.’

  James ducked into the small sleeping cabin, Pender into the coach, a sort of office-come-guest-quarters on the opposite side. Harry pulled out the pistols and sat, wrapped in a dark flag, with his back to the heavy desk, both guns pointed at the locked door.

  The Principessa dipped slightly to starboard from the weight of those coming aboard. Harry was not immune to the thought that he could be entirely wrong. But if there was an innocent explanation, he was at a loss to think of it. He was working on instinct rather than knowledge.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  MENTALLY he’d labelled them as attackers. He had no doubt that they were just that now. There had been no lights on their boat as they’d approached with muffled oars, and no hailing of the Principessa to warn anyone aboard of their approach. At least he could put out of his mind the possibility of unjustified arrest. People intent on apprehending felons did not come aboard as silently as this. That at least increased the prospect that having searched the ship they might not even look in here.

  Harry closed his eyes, hoping by his feelings for the motion of the ship to tell their position. And that was all he had to go by, for there was no sound at all. No voices, not even a hint of a whisper. A vision of the previous night’s attack came to his mind. Then too there had been no sound, and he wondered if he was dealing with the same people. He experienced a slight tightness in his chest at the thought, for they were deadly, cold, and efficient. And here on this ship there was no chance of the sudden arrival of a rescue party. If it was them, and they were thorough, then they had only one hope. To make the cost of taking their lives prohibitively expensive. But if these men were not fooled by the precautions they’d taken, and not deterred by the death of their comrades, the three of them would die in this cabin, just like Broadbridge.

  A shadow, thrown by the moon, flitted across the skylight. Harry crawled into the well between the two pillars of the desk, pulling the dark flag around him. He knew that he would be invisible to anyone looking in. It was at that moment that he realised his mistake. He’d been forced to cover two eventualities, and he had chosen the wrong one. Fearing arrest, he had disposed of the corpse. But the absence of Broadbridge’s body, no longer in its chair, would be obvious to anyone looking through the skylight.

  Whatever explanation these men put on this, they would be bound to try and investigate. Harry cursed himself for his haste. He should have left the body there until near dawn, and risked arrest. He waited for the exclamation that would accompany the discovery of the missing Broadbridge, sensing, rather than seeing, the head peering through the pointed canopy of the skylight. Nothing. Yet the ship lurched a trifle as one of their visitors moved with more purpose and less care than previously.

  The metallic scrape of a key entering the lock! Harry squeezed quickly out from under the desk and aimed his pistol at the doorway. He dived to one side, fighting the instinct to look up, as soon as he heard the glass break. Just in time. The cannonball that had been flung through it bounced with a great thud where he had been standing. As if that was the signal the door shot open and Harry, his balance aided by his shoulder, shoved hard against the side bulkhead, put a ball into the throat of the man who came rushing through the door. No cry accompanied the striking of the bullet, just an ethereal gasp.

  His momentum carried him on, pushing Harry backwards, but the knife in his hand dropped as he collapsed onto the recumbent defender. It was fortunate that he did, for a boarding pike, aimed through the skylight at Harry, struck the dying man full in the back. James, at the first sound, had rushed into the main cabin. He stumbled slightly, tripping on the cannonball, and fell forward. His outstretched sword took the second man coming through the doorway, and the momentum of his fall pushed him back through the gap. He abandoned the grip on his sword, and instead threw all his weight on the door, slamming it shut. He turned his back to it, and as he did so his eye caught a movement, and he looked up.

  The dark figure straddled the skylight, another boarding pike in his upraised hand, this one aimed at James. Harry, still on the floor, still with the first assailant on top of him, had no time to aim. His pistol thundered out, lighting up the whole cabin by its flash. They could not see if they hit the man on the skylight, but more glass shattered, and he jumped back with or without a bullet in him, abandoning the pike, which dropped harmlessly into the deck, where it stood upright, quivering.

  Pender dashed across the cabin and pulled the dead man off Harry, who struggled to get to his feet. James, his feet splayed out, was trying to hold t
he door closed. It was obvious that the weight on the other side was greater than his own, for with each silent heave it opened another inch. Pender threw himself at the door. Harry grabbed the captain’s chair with its rounded back, and joined in. Heavier than James or Pender, his bulk forced it shut. He jammed the back of the chair under the handle, ordered Pender to secure the other doors, then grabbed at James to pull him to one side. They ended up in the furthest corner of the dark cabin, out of the line of the skylight.

  Someone, perhaps the same man, was once more straddled across the broken skylight, in the act of throwing a third pike. He stopped his throw as Harry pulled James to safety, and shifted his aim to Pender, crouched by the leg of the desk trying to lash the rope that he’d attached to the door of the sleeping cabin. Harry yelled a warning, and without looking round to see which direction the danger was coming from, Pender dived under the desk, using the top as cover to finish his task.

  James was sucking deeply, his breath coming in gasps, his upturned face glistening with sweat in the warm night air. Harry, now with his sword in his hand, realised, as a slight breeze wafted through the broken skylight, that he too was damp with perspiration.

  ‘Pender, lash that other door while we distract him. James, dash to the other side and retrieve the pike from that fellow’s back. I’ll take out the one in the middle. With a bit of luck he’ll try a throw at me and we’ll have one each.’

  ‘As long as I’m not required to retrieve the third from your back. It would never do to have a surplus.’

  Harry laughed, softly, and then louder, for reasons he could not really understand. This affected James, who joined him. They stood, their backs to the wooden bulkhead, heaving with laughter. Pender’s voice, slightly querulous came from between the pillars of the desk.

  ‘If you gents know summat I don’t, I’d appreciate being told.’

  ‘Nothing, Pender,’ said Harry, suppressing a grin. ‘But let’s hope that our laughter depresses our foes as much as it has elevated my brother and me. Ready?’