“The sand?” Doud challenged.
“Yer can’t see it? Whoever sets it up gets valuable whisky on the ship’s papers so ’e can claim fer it as well, but ’e lands it for ’imself and loads aboard —”
Doud nodded. “Yeah, got a feelin’ yer could be right. Stands ter reason.”
Kydd shivered. The moonlit sea had somehow lost its exuberance.
“Poor buggers. But fer us they’d be shakin’ hands with Davy Jones himself b’ now.”
Bowyer looked sorrowfully at Doud. “You are a simpleton, Ned, me old shipmate. Now think on this — they can’t risk the barky makin’ port, not with them kegs o’ sand, they got ter make sure.”
Nobody spoke. “They have ter be sure she goes to the bottom, ’n’ that means that the skipper must be in on it. It’s him what knows what’s in the papers, nobody else.”
Kydd couldn’t believe that the tired old man would commit such cold-blooded murder. “But he’d go down as well — you saw how rough it was!”
“No, Tom, that there blow was not in the plan, no one could get away in a boat in that. What he needs ter do later is one night stove in the bottom, or somethin’, and make off with the only boat. No witnesses, see?”
Doud whistled. “Then we need to tell Warren quick-smart — he’ll know what to do.”
“So who went down into the hold to find this sand? Agin his strict orders? You?”
The odd-looking sail forward shivered and flapped until Bowyer realized and paid off a spoke or two at the helm.
“Damn it, we have t’ do something,” Kydd shouted.
“What did ye say?” It was Scully, emerging from the after hatchway. He moved up and stood before them, legs apart and thumbs in his belt. “So all the King’s men are on deck, are they? What’s yer trouble, then — vittles not to yer liking? Or should I tickle yer with a rope’s end ter make yer feel at home?” The moonlight threw his face into strong contrast.
Doud started up, but seemed to remember something and subsided.
“Take the hellum, Ned,” Bowyer said, and handed over the wheel to a puzzled Doud before confronting Scully. “Now, Mr. Scully — sir. We found out somethin’ about yer vessel, and we’re vexed to know how ter handle it.”
Scully tensed. “Yeah?”
“Well, it’s like this. We know yer shipped a cargo o’ whisky, ’n’ — well, let me put it this a-way.” He scratched his head to find the words. “Seems it ain’t all it seems. See, we checked up on it, bored a little hole, like, ’n’ all there was was sand. No spirits, jus’ sand.”
Scully stepped back. “Yer found just sand?” he said, in a dangerous voice.
Bowyer shrugged. “So I hates to inform yer — but it seems a good chance that yer cap’n is goin’ to scuttle the barky ’n’ claim the ing-surance.”
“Who have yer told?” said Scully, after a moment’s pause.
“Well, this is our difficulty, see. Our officer told us he’d stripe our backs if we entered the hold, so yez understands, we can’t really tell him, like.”
Scully’s eyes flickered. “Yer did right to tell me, boys. Comes as a bit of a shock, our own skipper ’n’ all. Don’t you worry, cully, I’ll tell yer officer as it was me who found out.” He hesitated. “Yer did well, lads. I’ll go ’n’ tell ’im now, don’t you worry.”
They waited until Scully passed below.
“We keeps the deck, watch ’n’ watch,” Bowyer said firmly. “Ned, you go ’n’ rouse up Wong ’n’ tell him to lay aft here with us. Nobody’s goin’ to touch that boat.”
Doud added, “Fer once in me life I’m right pleased to ’ave an officer in th’ offing.”
It was Doud on the wheel when dawn broke; a clear, bracing dawn that saw the white-capped seas hurrying toward them under the strong breeze — exhilarating sailing weather.
“Well, I own I’m at a stand as to why Warren didn’t come up ter see us-not like him at all.” Doud’s frown deepened.
Bowyer opened an eye and considered. “Maybe he’s been gettin’ his swede down — he did put in double tides yesterday. I’ll go below ’n’ give him a shake, it bein’ dawn an’ all.”
Kydd stretched his aching limbs. He was not yet able to snatch sleep wherever he was like the other seamen and his muzzy mind needed prodding into life.
Bowyer returned looking grave. “He’s not in his cabin.”
Doud looked at him. “Got to be — ’ave you seen in the master’s cabin?”
“Yeah. Nobody seen ’im since last night. I’m gettin’ Mr. Scully.”
The mate came on deck promptly. “What’s the trouble?”
“Can’t seem to find Mr. Warren,” Bowyer said.
Scully frowned. “Seemed fine last night — told him o’ yer worries and he said he’d wait till first light an’ investigate. Didn’t seem fazed at all, he didn’t, just went back ter sleep.”
“Hadn’t we better go look fer him?” said Doud.
There was no very great number of places that would need searching in the small merchant ship, and it was not long before Scully came back with his men.
“Can’t find him,” he said, watching for reaction.
“Yer can’t find ’im?” Bowyer was incredulous. “A barky this big ’n’ yer can’t find ’im? ’E ’as to be somewhere!”
“No. We looked all over — ’e ain’t aboard.” He took on a set, dogged expression. The deckhands stood behind him, expressionless.
Bowyer glanced at the others. He spoke deliberately. “I think as how this c’n only be yer skipper. He knows Mr. Warren’s been tipped off and is goin’ to investigate this mornin’, ’n’ he thinks to get in first.”
“Them’s serious words,” the mate answered. “You’re saying as ’ow our cap’n is a murtherer!”
“Can’t help it,” Bowyer said gravely. “What do you think? ’E’s the only one keeps the ship’s papers, that right?”
“That’s right,” Scully said reluctantly.
“An’ ’e’s the one who sets the course ’n’ that — knows just where we’re bound.”
“Yes.”
“And last you saw of ’im last night was when he was a-restin’, not to be disturbed, I hear?”
“Well, yes.”
“We’ve been on deck all night, so it’s got ter be ’im.”
Scully considered this. “What you’re sayin’ is that I should take some sorta action.”
This time it was Bowyer who waited silently.
“Right, then — I will. There’s no sleep fer anyone until I do. I’m goin’ to take him in charge, suspicion o’ murther!”
“Don’t like this, mates!” Doud said, after Scully had left the deck. “Don’t like it a-tall. Not right, takin’ a ship from the Cap’n like that.”
“What else can he do?” Bowyer replied. “He’s right — none of us is goin’ to get much sleep until he’s in bilboes or somethin’.”
Kydd felt uneasy. “What I don’t get is how Kelsey sent Mr. Warren over th’ side without our hearin’ it.”
Doud answered in a low voice. “What I reckon, Tom, is that ’e thwacked Mr. Warren on the noggin from behind, ’n’ launched ’im out o’ the stern windows, like.”
“It’s over now, lads,” said Bowyer, “and ’ere’s Mr. Scully.”
Scully returned, with a satisfied look. “Right we are, mateys. ’E’s lashed to a chair in ’is cabin and’ll give us no more grief.” He stood astride and folded his arms. “We owes you a lot, you boys. Least we can do for yer is to stand yer watches. You get yer heads down and leave ’er to us.”
Bowyer cocked his head. “Shouldn’t we be comin’ up with Duke William soon?”
Scully seemed evasive. “Well — yeah, we’re gettin’ to the rendezvous position, but don’t forget, it’s fer noon, so we has to stand off ’n’ on until she comes up. Anyways, you’re all free o’ work — ye’re passengers.”
It seemed natural to go forward to the fo’c’sle, where they arranged themselves to avoid the
occasional spray bursts over the bow and took advantage of the tentative warmth of the morning sun. The sea was sparkling now, cheerful and exuberant, a royal blue in place of the previous gray, and with the seas coming from astern it was a comfortable lift, a heartbeat’s pause and then a gentle curtsy down.
Wong drew out his scrimshaw and began plying the blade. It was turning out to be a lissome naked Oriental girl, lying full length and seductively propped up on her elbow. Doud lay down and closed his eyes, while Bowyer took a length of line and began to instruct Kydd on the more arcane bends and hitches.
The morning wore on. It felt odd to have no duties but, then, it seemed neither did the crew, who appeared to be taking it easy aft with Scully.
“Wonder who they think is goin’ to set this hooker to rights for ’em?” Bowyer mused. “Won’t be Duke William — we done our bit. Strange.”
Kydd finished a carrick bend with his eyes obediently closed. In the dark of night there would be no convenient lights nearby. “That right, Joe?” he asked.
“She’s right, Tom. It’ll do fer now, mate.”
Stretching, Kydd turned to Bowyer. “Joe, we’ve got the Captain under key in his cabin, but even a poxy thief gets a chance to say his piece. What say we hear him out?”
Bowyer looked down. “Yes, mate, it sits a bit awkward with me as well. Why don’t you nip below ’n’ see what the bugger ’as to say for ’imself?”
Down the single companionway Kydd turned aft to enter the stern cabin.
“Yes, mate?”
It was Yates the deckhand, getting to his feet outside the door to the cabin. It was obvious he had been placed there.
Kydd was reluctant to tell Yates his reasons. “Mr. Scully here?” he asked.
“Er, yer might say yes. ’E’s sleepin’ in ’is cabin right now.” Kydd hesitated. “But ’e won’t thank ye for interruptin’-he’s put away two bottles this forenoon.”
“Thanks, mate, it can wait.” Kydd clattered back up the ladder and hurried back to Bowyer.
“Seems to me they did the right thing to guard ’im, ’e bein’ a murderer an’ all,” Bowyer said.
Kydd stood his ground. “I want t’ hear Kelsey without there’s anyone else about,” he said.
Bowyer smiled. “An’ how are you goin’ to do that? Gettin’ past Yates, I mean.”
“You sway me down on a line over the transom an’ I get in through th’ stern windows,” Kydd said promptly.
The smile disappeared. “That’s a risky business, cuffin. Is ’e worth it?”
“Let’s go,” Kydd said impatiently. They strolled to the poop as if on a pleasant walk. Only the man at the helm was on deck and he was facing forward.
Bowyer found a topping lift fall and used the end with a bowline as a stirrup to lower Kydd over the low sternwork. It was easy. One window was already open, and as he swung over he hooked his feet inside and Bowyer lowered him in.
The master was sitting lashed in his chair, gagged and with his chin on his chest. He looked up in astonishment as Kydd approached and loosened the rag. “Rogues!” he shouted. “Damned scurvy rascals!”
Kydd clamped a hand over Kelsey’s mouth but it was too late. A rattling of keys in the lock showed Yates was investigating.
“Er — into the side locker!” Kelsey said urgently, nodding toward the long built-in seat at the side of the cabin.
Kydd opened it and tumbled in, remembering to lower the lid quietly. It was stuffy and damp in the locker, odorous with the musty stink of age-old tarpaulins.
“Yes, I’m talking about you, Yates!” Kydd could hear Kelsey plainly. “Take my ship away from me like this — I know your lay, Yates, you and Scully both.”
A meaty smack sounded. “Clap a stopper on it, old man. You don’t give no orders any more.”
“You’ll regret this!”
“Save yer breath, cully, yer’ll need it later. ’Ere, this’ll stop yer yattering!”
There was no sound for a short while and then the door slammed. Kydd waited for a little while, then climbed out. Once more he loosened the cloth gag. Bending close, he said quietly, “Is it right the ship’s goin’ to be done away with for th’ insurance?”
Kelsey started, and stared at Kydd. “Not by me!” he said bitterly. “Open that drawer — you’ll see a letter from my wife in Lisbon expecting to meet me there.”
Kydd found the letter, which confirmed Kelsey’s story. “Is it true that you’re the only one touchin’ the ship’s papers?” Kydd asked him.
“Yes, that’s right enough. But you should know that in the merchant service it’s the mate that’s responsible for stowing the hold. He can stow what he likes there and nobody would be the wiser. And about Mr. Warren — I’m sorry to hear of it, and all I can say is it wasn’t me did for him, but you’ll admit I’d be damn foolish to risk you men on my neck if I’d already made up my mind to scuttle.”
Kydd nodded. At the window he signaled to Bowyer to lower the line, and stepped in the bowline stirrup. It was only a short distance up the transom and he quickly clambered back on to the poop.
At that moment Scully emerged from the companionway. “What in hell?” he shouted. Striding over, he confronted them.
“You’ve been talkin’ with Kelsey! You’re in it with him!”
Bowyer looked at Kydd, who said, “Yes, cully, I’ve been talkin’ — and got quite a different yarn to yours.”
Bowyer stared and Doud stood up. “What do yer mean, mate?” he asked.
“I saw a letter proves he meant to make Lisbon — and it’s always the mate who stows the hold.”
Scully bit his lip. “Yates!” he bawled. “Get the others and get up here!” He pulled a small pistol from his pocket and cocked it with his left hand. “Don’t any of yer move!”
Doud edged away to the shrouds as though in fear of the pistol while Bowyer still held Kydd’s bowline and stared into Scully’s eyes.
Kydd knew what he must do. “Bilge rat!” he yelled, and launched himself at Scully. The pistol swept round but Bowyer whipped his rope back, pulling Scully into its bight and off balance. Simultaneously Wong leaped forward and head-butted Scully, who went down with a gasp, the pistol discharging harmlessly over the sea.
It was no contest. Wong quickly pinioned Scully, who flopped helpless in his grasp.
“Joe!” warned Kydd. Up the companionway had come Yates and others, who took the situation in with a glance.
Yates produced a knife — not a seaman’s blade but a short curved weapon. The other men closed about him and it was plain that no quarter would be shown or asked. Other knives appeared.
The Navy men fell back while Yates moved forward, stopping at the mainmast bitts with its maze of ropes coming down and belayed around the pins on the frame.
With their backs to the bitts, Doud and Bowyer silently reached behind and each eased up a belaying pin, then both brought them forward and smacked them suggestively across their palms.
“You comin’, then?” said Doud to Yates, who now faltered, and looked at the others for support.
It was all Doud needed. Like lightning his hand flicked up his belaying pin, which spun crisply through the air and at Yates’s head. Yates screamed and clutched at his bloody face while the others turned and fled.
The man at the wheel was terrified but took no part in the fight, keeping the ship steadily on course in the same dogged way he had faithfully pumped.
It was a matter of moments to round up the others and free the master, who hurried on deck to confront his mate.
“We’re not going to get much outa Scully,” said Doud. He looked around. “Wong, me old shipmate, I think this ’ere Yates could do with a bath, don’t you?”
Wong nodded. He dragged Yates to the ship’s side, where the sea foamed a few feet down. In one casual move he bent, and seized Yates’s ankles and hurled him over the side, then left him suspended upside down inches above the waves.
Yates struggled and shouted, but Wong effortle
ssly held on to his skinny frame. Then he let the man descend. Yates saw the sea come closer and wriggled frantically, but his head dipped under.
Wong waited until he saw bubbles, then hoisted him back up. Yates panted and spluttered. Again Wong slowly let him descend. The struggles became frenzied. When the bubbles came again Wong set him roughly on deck and folded his arms.
It all spilled out: Scully had made an arrangement with the owners of the vessel unknown to the master whereby he and his four accomplices would sink the ship, then take to the only boat, ensuring there would be no witnesses. It was barratry, an insurance swindle, and would have succeeded but for the storm. The men lost no time in damning Scully as the man who had killed Warren, and also revealed that he had planned to complete the deed that night by eliminating those remaining.
The master breathed in deeply and took control. “I’ll fix our position and have you aboard your ship as soon as I can.”
CHAPTER 7
* * *
Three days later, back aboard Duke William, Kydd and Bowyer were with the starboard watch up on the topsail yard, shaking out a reef. In the maintop sailors swore heartily when the inexperienced officer of the watch let the ship come into the wind. Ponderously, the seventy-five-foot yard swung as the wind caught the sail momentarily aback, then more sharply swayed it back — to bring up hard against the braces.
One moment Kydd was standing watching for orders, the next he heard a brief cry and turned to see a gap where Bowyer had been shortly before. He stared down and saw men hurrying over to a still form, face down and at a distorted angle. For a moment he was stunned. Then, in a rising storm of feelings he shouted, shrieked — and flew down the shrouds.
A small crowd had gathered around Bowyer. Kydd thrust past, distraught at the spreading dark wet stain beneath. Gently he pulled Bowyer around to face upward. His eyes were closed and he was very pale, blood issuing from his nose and ears. His breathing was unnatural; harsh and stertorous.
“Where’s the doctor?” Kydd’s hoarse cry rose above the hushed voices. He cradled the barely breathing Bowyer, feeling the warmth seeping from his body.
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