Death in the Middle Watch

by Bruce, Leo

  He was however, fully awake during the following night when, as if drawn by those curious instincts of his, he pulled on his clothes and left his cabin. The group he found outside the Purser’s office had much in common with the trio he had found on deck on the first night out. The Captain was there and Mr Porteous but instead of the deck-hand Leacock, Carolus found the Purser and Dr Yaqub Ali. They were talking not excitedly but with quiet seriousness.

  The doctor said: “There is no doubt, I’m afraid, that it was murder.”

  Mr Porteous said “Oh God!” but Carolus coolly asked what was murder.

  “An unfortunate lady passenger,” said the doctor. “A Mrs Darwin. Some considerable violence was used.”

  “Knife? Club? Or strangled?”

  “Strangled, apparently. I haven’t been able to make a definite decision but I think there is no doubt.”

  “Wasn’t her door locked?” asked Carolus.

  It was the Purser who answered.

  “No, Mr Deene,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  “It was not wished to alarm the cruisers. If we had issued general instructions it would certainly have caused alarm. For many of them it would have spoilt their holiday.”

  “It might have saved a woman’s life,” said Carolus. Then perhaps recalling Leacock’s account of single women on a holiday cruise, he added, “Unless she opened the door of her own accord.”

  This seemed to cheer Mr Porteous.

  “You think she may have done?”

  Carolus could not answer in Leacock’s words because he was, in fact, paid to think.

  “It’s a possibility,” he said.

  “She has seemed rather friendly with one of the passengers,” said the Purser, “though I have no idea whether that has anything to do with it. She was sitting in the saloon with him all yesterday evening, a Mr Gorringer.”

  Carolus turned on him.

  “Don’t be a fool, Ratchett,” he said. “They were playing Scrabble.”

  As though to relieve the tension the doctor said, “Scrabble? What on earth is that?”

  Someone answered rather contemptuously. “It’s a game.” Then the Purser said, speaking directly to the Captain, “I have locked the door, sir. I think we may leave things as they are until the morning.”

  “And in the morning?” Carolus asked, “what do you intend to do? Report it to the Port Authorities?”

  Porteous answered him.

  “No need for that at all. The doctor is quite uncertain of the manner of the woman’s death. There may even be some uncertainty about whether she is dead. Isn’t that so, Dr Yaqub Ali?” He hurried on before the doctor could answer. “There is no need to report it to anyone. The lady is indisposed—in her cabin.”

  “You can’t get away with this, Porteous,” Carolus said. “It wasn’t certain that a man was overboard. It is quite certain that a woman has been killed.”

  Porteous began, “Let’s say, for the sake of argument …”

  “There’s no argument,” said Carolus.

  “What you should be concerned with, Mr Deene,” said Porteous, “is the identity of the murderer. You can safely leave the matter of reporting this occurrence to the Captain and me. Have you any idea what it would mean if we reported it? Half the Portuguese police on board, the ship not allowed to leave port, the passengers cross-examined, their holidays completely spoilt … After all, you undertook to do your best to prevent anything like this happening. It is up to you to clear up the mystery, not to go running to the police of a foreign country. This is a British ship.”

  Carolus turned sharply away.

  But before he went to his cabin he said, “There’s one thing you’re overlooking. The woman’s husband is due to come on board today. What are you going to tell him?”

  Like Pontius Pilate, he did not wait for an answer.

  Six

  THE FIRST MAN CAROLUS sought in the morning was the Purser. He avoided Mr Gorringer taking his before-breakfast stroll on deck, did not go in to breakfast, and found the Purser in his cabin.

  “I don’t think Porteous and Scorer have the ghost of a chance of getting away with this,” he said. “But that will be their funeral. I want to know whether anyone came on board last night.”

  Mr Ratchett nodded. “I thought you were going to ask that,” he said. “Yes, quite unexpectedly at around one o’clock. A clerk from the agent’s office.”

  “Name?” queried Carolus.

  “Costa Neves. We know him well. He comes on board as a matter of course, but I’ve never known him do so on the night we lay off in the Tagus. We’re usually alongside by nine o’clock in the morning and he comes on then.”

  “What brought him out to the ship?”

  “The usual documents. But they could have been attended to this morning.”

  “How did he come out?”

  “In the agent’s launch.”

  “So you lowered the gangplank?”

  “Yes. Costa Neves is a little lame.”

  “Was anyone in the launch with him?”

  “Only the two boatmen who are always with the launch. I know them both.”

  “Surely you could not identify them in the dark from on deck, Mr Ratchett?”

  “Near enough. I know the two, you see.”

  “You mean that because you know the boatmen usually with the launch, you assumed that these were the two?”

  “I suppose that was it. But since Costa Neves said nothing, it was a pretty safe assumption.”

  “Leaving the possibility that the launch brought almost anyone out to the ship?”

  “Why should it? I know Costa Neves. See him every trip.”

  “Does he know any of the passengers?”

  “Oh, I shouldn’t think so. He only speaks a little English and when he comes aboard he’s usually pretty busy. Why? You’re not suggesting he killed Mrs Darwin?”

  “No. But he could have. Or someone he brought aboard with him.”

  “He brought no one aboard. I watched him come up the gangplank. He and the two boatmen came alone in the launch. And for the whole time the launch was alongside there was a man at the top of the gangplank.”

  “Which man?”

  “Leacock. He’s our most reliable deckhand.”

  “I’m not entirely satisfied with that. But let it pass for the moment. Who occupied the cabin next to Mrs Darwin?”

  “Sir Charles and Lady Spittals.”

  “And opposite?”

  “Miss Berry.”

  “I intend to interview them. If they ask me questions I shall tell them the truth. I won’t be part of what I consider a conspiracy.”

  Yet a few minutes later, when Carolus met Mr Gorringer coming up from the dining room, he found himself—while not actually lying—at least not going out of his way to proclaim the truth.

  “I hear that our friend Mrs Darwin is not well this morning,” Mr Gorringer said. “I had hoped to escort her ashore to show her some of the sights of the capital of our oldest ally.”

  “Pity. I’m afraid you’ll have to go alone. Unless you care to invite Miss Berry.”

  “My dear Deene, far be it from me to appear to be in the least critical of one of our fellow-passengers, but I have noticed the lady you mention seeming somewhat eager in her approach to the male sex. I might find her an embarrassment.”

  “Yes. You might. I have work to do this morning. Have a good time ashore.”

  The headmaster seemed distinctly put out when Carolus left him, but this passed, for a few moments later Mr Gorringer could be seen greeting several other passengers heartily, as they made their way towards the dock gates.

  Meanwhile Carolus was just in time to catch Sir Charles and Lady Spittals dressed ready to go ashore but delayed by the unwillingness of Sir Charles to leave the saloon.

  “You go, dear,” the ex-Lord Mayor said after they had both greeted Carolus.

  “Isn’t that just like him?” Lady Spittals demanded of Carolus, or of th
e world in general. “We’ve booked a nice expedition with some of the cruisers and he says ‘you go’ as though I wanted to get off with someone. It’s always ‘you go’ with him. I don’t know why he bothers to get up in the morning at all.”

  “I was going to ask you whether you would be so good as to answer a few questions,” Carolus said tentatively. “About last night.”

  “That poor thing!” said Lady Spittals. She at once sat down and seemed to forget the expedition ashore, attracted by this new and exciting topic. “It’s true, then? She was murdered?”

  “True or not,” said Carolus evasively, “I think you’re more likely to know what happened than anyone.”

  “Me? I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Mr Deene is reminding us that we were in the cabin next door,” said Sir Charles. “Wasn’t that it, Mr Deene?”

  “Yes. I thought you were bound to hear something.”

  “Not a sound,” said Lady Spittals. “That’s why we couldn’t believe it when we heard this morning what had happened.”

  “What did you hear?”

  “About these men coming out in a yacht and murdering Mrs Darwin. At least that’s what we were told. It seems they were some kind of Arabs.”

  “Cypriots, didn’t the lady say?” suggested Sir Charles.

  “Or was it the I.R.A.? One of those lots anyhow. But they must have been silent doing it because we never heard a murmur. Why should they have picked on her, I wonder? She seemed quite a harmless sort of woman. Not what you’d call a ball of fire but not one you’d think would get her throat cut like that.”

  “I thought we were told she was smothered?” said Sir Charles.

  “What does it matter? She was murdered, anyway. And to think we slept right through it all.”

  “You didn’t hear any voices?”

  “No. Of course the engines make some noise. Perhaps that’s what drowned it.”

  Just then another woman hurried up to them.

  “Come along, you two!” she said excitedly. “We’re all waiting!”

  “He doesn’t want to come,” said Lady Spittals, not bitterly but apparently with amusement. “He says, ‘You go, dear’”—and just then Sir Charles said it. Indeed, what else was there to say?

  “All right, I will!” said Lady Spittals defiantly. “And I hope you enjoy yourself sitting there all day. Come on, Mrs Popple.”

  The two hurried out, leaving Sir Charles with a look of something like contentment on his face.

  “Steward!” he called with unexpected vigour, and to Carolus, “Will you have a drink? I know it’s a bit early, but I could do with one.”

  Carolus agreed.

  It was while the steward was bringing their drinks that Carolus became aware of a curious sniffing noise behind him and, turning round, saw Miss Berry, with red eyes and a sodden handkerchief. He swallowed his whisky and went across to her. He was not very good at situations like this. Did one say “Now, now” or “This won’t do, will it?” He went for a simple question.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Have a drink?” tried Carolus.

  “A whisky, please. Without ice and just a splash of soda.”

  The “splash” was too much for her, it seemed, and after giving these precise instructions she started to weep again, rather noisily.

  “Upset about Mrs Darwin?” Carolus asked.

  Miss Berry looked at him with astonishment.

  “Mrs Darwin?” she spluttered. “What’s she done? It’s not her.”

  “There is a story going round the ship,” said Carolus with literal truth but far from candid intent, “that she was murdered.”

  Miss Berry digested that. But it did nothing to calm her tears.

  “I don’t care if she was. She said last night I looked off-colour and offered me some liver salts. I could have murdered her myself.”

  “But you didn’t? Then why are you crying?”

  “It’s not Mrs Darwin. It’s Gavin Ritchie.”

  Carolus recognized the name of the good-looking but rather sullen young man he had seen coming aboard.

  “What’s he done?”

  “He was all right yesterday. We were together nearly all the evening. He promised to take me ashore today to see …” Miss Berry broke down again. “To see the fish market.” she said finally.

  Well, that’s a new one, thought Carolus, but did not say it.

  “What do you care about a lot of old fish?” He knew it was no good as soon as he said it. Miss Berry cried again.

  “Not the fish.” she explained. “It’s the women. They carry the baskets on their heads. Gavin wanted to see that. He’s in artist, you know. Now he’s gone ashore with the Assistant Purser who looks like a girl.”

  “Surely you don’t care about that?”

  “I do. I care terribly. I thought at last, when I met Gavin, that this was going to be a wonderful cruise.”

  “Perhaps it is. I want to ask you something. Miss Berry …”

  “Susan.”

  “I wanted to ask you, Susan, whether you heard anything unusual in the night. Your cabin’s opposite to Mrs Darwin’s.”

  “I don’t know what you mean by unusual,” said Susan, who had grown suddenly sour. “I suppose it’s not unusual on this ship to hear knocking on the cabin door of a woman passenger when she’s supposed to be alone.”

  “Yours?” asked Carolus, unable to suppress a suggestion of incredulity.

  “No. Not mine. I wouldn’t have it. On Mrs Darwin’s door.”

  “You heard that? At what time?”

  “Some time after one, it must have been, because I didn’t go to bed till nearly one and was reading for a long time.”

  “If I may ask you, Susan, where were you between say midnight and one o’clock?”

  “Of course you may. I don’t care any more. I was with Gavin.”

  “Did you see a launch come alongside?”

  “Some kind of a boat yes. I didn’t really notice much about it. I wasn’t particularly interested, to tell the truth. Anyway. It was just before I went to bed because Gavin said we had to be up early in the morning to see the …”

  “Yes. I know. The fish market. So you didn’t wait to see whether anyone came aboard from the launch?”

  “No. I went to my cabin.”

  “And some time afterwards you heard someone knocking at Mrs Darwin’s door?”

  “Yes. But before that I heard a noise in the passage. The young Dunlearys were laughing and running about.”

  “You didn’t look out to see who it was who knocked?”

  Susan Berry hesitated, then said, “Well, I did just want to see that it wasn’t anyone I knew. So I peeped out. But whoever it was had gone into Mrs Darwin’s cabin and shut the door. So I went to bed. I didn’t think anything more about it.”

  “And you didn’t hear any more?”

  “No. The first thing I heard was in the morning when I went into breakfast. Someone was saying there had been a murder, but I was waiting for Gavin to come down. He sits at the same table and he’s usually pretty cheerful at breakfast. But when he came, he scarcely spoke a word for a long time. Then he told me he had to do some shopping ashore so he was going with the Assistant Purser who knew all the ropes. That was all he said and I watched them going off the ship together. Then you came up and started asking me questions.”

  “I’m sorry if I annoyed you.”

  “Oh, no. You didn’t. It was just that I thought Gavin was going to be a real friend …”

  “Just one question more,” Carolus said. “Had you ever heard anyone knock at Mrs Darwin’s door in the night before last night?”

  “Well, there may have been. You know what this ship is—”

  “But you hadn’t heard it?”

  “Not to be certain of.”

  “You think you may have?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” cried Susan, losing all patience. “No one knocked on
my door, I know that.”

  Carolus called the steward and ordered two more drinks.

  “Who is the young officer who has just come in?” he asked Susan.

  She seemed to recover at once.

  “Which? Where?” she asked.

  “I think it’s the Second Engineer.”

  Susan appeared transfixed.

  “Yes,” she said. “I thought he’d gone ashore, too. Do you mind if I go out on deck? It’s rather stuffy in here.”

  As she left him Carolus caught a glimpse of Leacock with a broad and meaningful grin on his face peering in from the deck. He remembered what the man had said and felt just a little embarrassed.

  Sir Charles Spittals was signalling to him to rejoin him.

  “Just time for another,” he said. “They’re coming back for lunch, you see. The ship sails at two. What’s it going to be?”

  Carolus refused, and went out on deck. He was anxious to know whether Mrs Darwin’s, the late Mrs Darwin’s, husband had arrived as promised.

  Susan Berry’s mention of the young Dunlearys had reminded him of the fact, so disturbing to Mr Porteous. that the family from County Dublin were very much in evidence at times. Perhaps because they, like most Irish families, had a clutch of children, he had simply put them out of his mind. He admitted this was illogical, but he found it impossible to connect them with anything more sinister than singing “The Wearing of the Green” at a ship’s concert.

  Seven

  AFTER LUNCH MRS STICK called Carolus into the Sun Lounge with an air of urgency.

  “You’ve got your murder all right then, sir,” she whispered, though there seemed to be no one within earshot. “I told you, you would have. That poor thing whose husband died on this very ship last year.”

  “Are you sure about it, Mrs Stick?

  “Sure? Of course I’m sure. The lady at the table where we sit knew all about it at breakfast time this morning, only I couldn’t find you to tell you.”

  “I thought perhaps she might. Did she say how she heard?”

  “There’s not much she doesn’t hear, if you ask me,” said Mrs Stick. “She was told it was two of the crew done it, battering the poor lady something cruel. It just shows you, doesn’t it? What can happen when you come on a cruise like this. As I said this morning, I said, ‘They’re all smiles when they see you walking about but you never know what they’re planning among themselves,’ Look at what happened to her, I mean.”