Teignholder nodded, seemingly sympathetic with my plight. “But, needless to say, all that is in the future. Your decision is now, here. Actually, my request is such a simple one, easily accommodated. And the consequences of your refusal are so dire, I would think it an obvious choice.”
The smile left his face. “Would you really care to test my resolve, Commander?”
He had me. It was the kind of thing I would expect from a tin-pot despot, not the British military and police. And to think it started with Blackstone. That thug had given them just enough to provide leverage over me. Courtesy of a disgruntled and incompetent sea cook and a distant ship owner, Teignholder had the ability to ruin our search efforts for the boy, embarrass my country, and destroy my career. He hadn’t mentioned that he knew what I did for the navy, but by that point I had to assume he did.
“And if I agree to help you?”
Teignholder beamed at Randall. “You know, Geoff, the Royal Mail is a frightfully inefficient government operation, especially way out here.”
Randall shook his head again. “I’ve heard they lose mail all the time. These staff wallahs out here in the colonies just aren’t quite the best of the British civil service, are they? Ah, yes, it would be such a travesty of justice if that message from the ship’s owner went missing, Rupert. Not to mention the criminal complaints from Andros Island. Just think of all those things that wouldn’t happen.”
They’d thought this whole damn thing out, but I still didn’t understand one part. “How do you even know the Frenchman wants to go to the southern Bahamas?”
With a smug grin, Teignholder explained. “Because for some reason, he’s looking for the Condor, just like you. And tomorrow morning, in the bar of the Empire Club down on Bay Street, he will hear what you will hear from me now. The Condor headed to Great Inagua Island two months ago so an American tourist could search for the treasure there belonging to Henri Christophe, King of the Haitian Africans. From that location, the Condor and all aboard disappeared. I have a brief report from our local man there. It was nothing that unusual at the time—now it seems extraordinary. Once Roche hears of it, he’ll want to go there.”
“They went to Great Inagua? You’re sure?”
“Yes. When we heard an American and a Frenchman were asking about Condor, we had the records searched again. A clerk remembered the report from the commissioner in Inagua. I’ve just read it. Routine report. The schooner put in there, then left. Not seen again.”
So now we had a destination. “Yes, but why will Roche want to come with me on Delilah?”
“At the same time he learns of Condor’s sighting at Great Inagua, he will learn that the mail boat for that area has been unfortunately reassigned to the Abacos in the northern part of the islands. Roche will also hear that you are fortuitously heading right where he wants to go, leaving with the tide tomorrow. He seems to be in as much of a hurry as you, so I’d wager he’ll very nicely ask to take passage with you. You will accept and take him, his two friends, and Inspector Randall along with you. And here is some good news for you—you can make them pay!”
“No, that won’t work, Major. Roche and I already met tonight. He doesn’t like or trust me. I could tell. He won’t ask to go with me.”
“No choice. You are the only way to get there. He’ll swallow his pride all right—the French are quite good at that. He’ll ask. You’ll agree. Then you’ll get to go search for your lady’s boy, free from any worry over legal unpleasantness. And we get to discover what this fellow is actually up to. See how simple this is? No worries, dear chap.”
“So I do this in exchange for the fabricated legal problems disappearing? A quid pro quo?”
“Precisely, Commander.”
“How do I know you’ll hold your end of the bargain?”
He puffed up. “Why, Commander—I am a commissioned officer in Her Majesty’s imperial forces. You have my word of honor!”
He managed to say that with a straight face. I shook my head. “After knowing you for the last few hours, I’m afraid that doesn’t resonate much with me.” I exhaled slowly to control my temper. “But, God help me, I’ll do it. There’s no alternative.”
Teignholder said to the policeman, “You know something, Geoff? I think our American is much smarter than most I’ve met. Grasped the concept straightaway.” He cast Randall a mock look of reproach. “And you said he wouldn’t get my meaning. Oh ye of little faith . . .”
The inspector continued the sarcastic charade, his eyes alight with mirth at my expense. “Oh, I do stand corrected, Major! Our Yankee cousin here is much quicker than I thought.” Randall then looked at me with what he probably thought passed for sincerity. “Commander, thank you for your kind invitation to sail aboard Delilah. I accept.”
Teignholder laughed, then grew serious. “Oh, by the by, before I forget . . . there is one more thing you should know. A native boy found the body of a white man in the harbor, about a week ago. Apparently drowned after a night of heavy drinking. By all appearances an accident, with no sign of foul play. He was a Jewish German fellow named Gerhardt Wein. Wealthy intellectual sort from Hamburg. Arrived at the end of the tourist season in April and never returned to Europe. Decided to retire here, I’m told. Not really part of the local social circles.”
Wein. The ‘W’ in the letter? I tried to not react. “So what’s that got to do with me, Major?”
“His drinking companions that night were our French visitors—your new passengers.”
Quite a pair, those two. Though I’ve always held great respect for the British, there is a side of them which tarnishes the carefully upheld image.
Perfidious Albion, indeed.
19
Who Is Who?
Nassau
New Providence Island, Bahamas
Thursday, 2 August 1888
After breakfast on the main deck the next morning, I held a consultation with our entire company, explaining what I’d learned, and how I’d been blackmailed. I wanted everyone to understand the details so they could be on the lookout for signs from the Brit or the Frenchman pointing to Luke’s location. Rork was not in favor of taking on the additional passengers, suggesting the British would divert our effort for their own agenda against the French. A grim Cynda told him, “No, Sean, the Frenchman’s been the only substantive evidence we’ve gotten, so we’ll do what we must, with whom we must, in order to find my son.”
In addition to the political intrigue, we had another factor: time. Rork and I only had four weeks of leave left before we had to be back at naval headquarters on the second of September. Corny and Dan also had to return to Washington. Initially, I thought the search would be concluded by early August. Now I had no idea of where we were eventually heading and when we’d return.
Later in the morning, as Rork and I were walking on Bay Street from the shipping broker’s office—he’d managed to find a crew of stevedores to unload Delilah’s cargo at the Deveaux Street dock at noon—I noticed a man emerging from the sponge exchange and strolling along behind us. He was the same man I’d seen in the shadows of the Vendue House when I’d walked back to the harbor front the previous evening. Short, dark-complexioned, and clean shaven; wearing the same gray coat and wide-brimmed black hat.
I was being stalked, but by whom? Why? He didn’t dress or act like a local, for his gait was too energetic and his clothes too heavy. The locals wore cotton or linen, usually white. Could he be ‘O’? Rork instantly perceived my vigilance and studied the man peripherally.
“Ooh, he’s followin’ astern o’ us, all right. Eyein’ us close. Looks like a bit o’ a ruffian. Think he’s a local copper, or one from London?”
“No idea, Rork. Might be one of Roche’s men. Or Kingston’s. Or Randall’s. Or maybe he’s a Russian, for all I know.”
“I can tack ’round an’ have a wee discussion with him in that alley o’er
there. Take maybe ten seconds to get the measure o’ him an’ have the bastard singin’ like a bird.”
I was tempted. Rork can be extremely persuasive in obtaining information from men of ill intent. However, with the other legal issues hovering over me, I didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. Especially should the man be a member of the police.
“No, Rork. This time we stay nonadversarial—for now.”
I make correct decisions just often enough to retain my self-confidence. This turned out to be one of those times. Thirty seconds after I spared the stranger from meeting Rork the hard way, the man approached us.
“Hallo. Capitaine Wake? Excusez-moi. I am Henri Billot. I wish to speak with you.”
The man was the converse of the refined Roche. Billot was coarse-looking, awkward, his voice raspy and halting, with difficulty in English.
“Yes, I am Captain Wake.” I pointedly did not introduce Rork, who stood to one side and glared at the man. “What do you want?”
“Passage on your ship for my employer, myself, and another person. To go to Great Inagua Island, in the south.”
So Major Teignholder and Inspector Randall had carried it off. Still, I decided not to make it easy, just to see how interested the French really were. “I’m not taking on any more passengers.”
For a moment, Billot looked troubled, then said, “My boss, he sent me to procure passage, sir. He will pay to go.”
“Who is your boss?”
New self-assurance inflated his tone. “Monsieur Pierre Jean Roche, of Paris.”
“Does he have enough money to persuade me?”
Billot nodded. “He has enough money to pay, Capitaine.”
“Tell him to be at the Deveaux Street docks at noon today. The price will be one hundred gold sovereigns. The accommodations aboard will be basic, but I will hear no complaints. Take it or leave it.”
Billot was taken back a bit by my fee, which was far beyond exorbitant, but he bowed and said, “We will be there, Capitaine.”
After Billot left, Rork whistled a low version of “God Save the Queen” and opined, “Well, well, I’m duly impressed. Methinks you’ve a bit o’ larceny in yer heart. A hundred sovereigns is nigh on to five hundred dollars. This merchant sea captain business is agreein’ with ye, ain’t it?”
“I just wanted to see how well funded this Roche fellow is.” I winked at my friend. “And that will pay all of our expenses on this journey, with a nice lump to go to the ship owner to keep him happy.”
“An’ off our backs! Well done, sir. Sounds like this Frog is damn well funded. Expense account?”
“Exactly what I was thinking, Rork. A pretty large expense account. The next question is—who’s funding it?”
***
I had the schooner around to the dock at the appointed hour. The stevedores arrived late, as I expected, but they were well on the way to diminishing Delilah’s load by the time Roche, et al, finally sauntered down the dock. There weren’t three men coming aboard, as I had assumed. It was to be two men and a woman.
Roche, looking cool and calm as ever in a white linen suit, and Billot, clearly harried, were accompanied by a woman of an indeterminate but not young age. My first impression of her was that of a prosperous camp follower. The gentlemen have already been described in detail, so let us turn our attention to this female.
She was petite, as the French say, with longish blonde hair done up in a single braid, held by a tortoise-shell comb. At an earlier point in her life she must have been quite fetching, but now her heavily rouged cheeks and crimson lips contrasted with pasty white skin and black mascara to produce a tawdry comical effect. To complete the disagreeable impression, the woman’s scowling mouth spewed forth epithets in both French and English at the hapless minions behind her.
No less than five black porters struggled, in between kowtowing to the female, to unload at least a dozen pieces of her baggage from a landau. Rork and Corny, barely containing their amusement, looked in my direction for the effect all this had upon me.
It had a considerable effect, for earlier that morning I had planned to put the three paying guests, who I had presumed would be men, in the forward cabin and move my friends out on deck. That way Cynda and I could maintain our privacy aft, and the passengers could have the illusion of a cabin of their own. I thought it the least I could do, since the Frenchman was paying about ten times the regular amount for a three-hundred-mile passage for three people. That was until I saw the woman. My hopes for resuming a bit of discreet privacy with Cynda disappeared.
A bad mood began to develop in my mind but was interrupted by Roche stepping up to me. With the slightest of bows, he said, “Ah, Mr. Wake. We meet again. Last night you were a businessman. Today you are a sea captain. I look forward with great anticipation to seeing what you will become tomorrow.”
My tone turned as sour as my mood. “You brought the money? Passage is paid for in advance—before you or your baggage goes aboard.”
He didn’t blink an eye. “Why yes, I have it here. One hundred golden sovereigns of the British Empire, as you have required of me. You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Wake.”
I took the bag of money and opened it. While counting the coins I asked, “Why do you want go to Inagua?”
He waved a hand dismissively. “I am growing weary of these islands. They are not lush, and certainly not cultured, like those further south, in the French West Indies. Inagua is on the way to where I want to go, Mr. Wake. I hear that steamers call there for salt. Hopefully I can find one bound for the part of the Caribbean I am looking for: Martinique, Guadeloupe, Saint Martin, Saint Barthélemy. Civilized tropical places, where a gentleman of France can be truly comfortable.”
He was smooth all right. I decided to be blunt.
“I was going to ask you a question at the governor’s soirée, but you left before I could. Why were you asking about the schooner Condor at Morgan’s Buff? And why ask about any Russians aboard?”
No hesitation. “Oh, just curiosity. I heard there is good fishing there. Also a rumor of Russians, a people I find interesting, in the islands. And then a ship disappears in the same area? How very intriguing. Two unusual events, but merely coincidental, as it turns out.”
“How did you hear about Russians in the Bahamas?”
“At a party in Nassau, I think. I cannot remember for certain.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Idle gossip, nothing more.”
No point in stopping now. I had the weather gauge on him, and he knew it. “And why did you lie to me at the governor’s house and say you hadn’t been anywhere but Nassau?”
Roche’s smile got broader. He laughed loudly for those around us, as if I had made a great joke. “Did I say that? I must have been mistaken in comprehending your question, Mr. Wake. You know, my English is not so good. I miss some of the nuances of the language. And we must remember the wonderful effects of the governor’s champagne, of course.”
Standing in the glare of the sun on the dock, we measured each other for a few seconds. I knew he was lying, and he knew that I knew he was lying. But an onlooker wouldn’t have been able to tell that anything was amiss. Pierre Jean Roche was one very imperturbable fellow. With the style of a practiced gambler.
I switched subjects. “What’s the woman’s name? I need it for the log and manifest.”
“Oh, how very impolite of me! Allow me to introduce the lady, please.” He beckoned her over. “This is Mademoiselle Claire Fournier, my dearest of friends, originally of Avignon, in the south of France. Ma chérie, this is Mr. Peter Wake, the American businessman I met last night, that I told you about. He has many talents, including being the captain of this boat. He will be taking us south, to a place where we can get passage toward the French islands.”
Claire curtsied theatrically, making sure I got a good view of her large bosom, its prominent eruption out of her bodice apparently
made possible by a substantial corset. For a fleeting moment, I tried to imagine the engineering needed for that effort. Quite considerable. A brace like that must’ve hurt, I remember thinking.
“Very nice to meet you, Captain. Will it be a calm voyage?”
Her English was fluent, but there was a tremor in her voice. She was obviously scared, which, in addition to the broiling heat, might have been why her powders and paint were succumbing to gravity, sliding in rivulets down her face. Her carefully done-up countenance was changing from clownlike to grotesque as the colors mixed. My estimate of her age increased, and I felt a twinge of pity for her. She was desperately trying to act like a lady in front of me, under very difficult circumstances.
“This is the calmest time of year, ma’am. And I will do my best to make it a pleasant voyage for you.”
Corny sidled over and took her hand. “Bonjour, madame. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Doctor Cornelius Rathburn, an ethnologist at the National Museum in Washington. I would consider it an honor to assist you in any way to make this voyage through the tropic islands as pleasurable as possible.”
He lifted her hand and brushed it with his lips, his eyes never leaving hers, which then commenced to flutter in appreciation. “Thank you for your kindness, monsieur. You Americans are so galant to a lady.”
Corny displayed his most innocent and heartfelt look as he murmured, “Enchanté d’avoir fait votre connaissance, madame.”
As basic as my French is, I knew he was merely saying that he enjoyed meeting her, but Claire’s reaction to my friend’s flawless rendition of her language was positively gushing. Giggles, batting eyes, blushing cheeks, and a full curtsy were the joyous results of his efforts. It was all a bit much for my taste.
Roche, I saw, was ignoring the show, but Billot was less detached. The little man was staring at Claire and at Corny. Then he walked away.
Absalom walked by and I called for him. “Ab, put the French gentlemen’s gear in the forecabin and the lady’s baggage in my cabin. Another passenger, a Brit, is coming, too. He’ll be in with the Frenchmen. Dan and Corny are joining you and Rork on deck. Tell Cynda that she and the lady will stay in my cabin. I’ll move my gear into the mate’s cabin.”
Honor Bound Page 15
