by Jo Macauley
Beth had never seen such a remarkable sight as this tall, fiery-eyed man in black robes. He wore a scarlet cap with strange symbols embroidered all round it in silver, and masses of snowy-white hair that protruded from beneath it and fell over his shoulders. He had a matching beard that was long and bushy enough to hide a bird’s nest in.
“Meet Mister Culpeper, me landlord.” Ralph announced. “Just brought a few friends round for a natter, Mister C.”
The unusual man’s gaze lingered on Beth and John for a moment. “Yes, I’m sure you have,” he said, as if used to his tenant’s secretive ways.
Ralph led them to the back of the shop and up a stairway to a small, plain, sparsely furnished chamber above the shop. There was a little wooden bed with a straw mattress and a couple of blankets, a rickety chair beside it with some crumpled clothes piled on it, and an ancient wooden chest in one corner.
“As long as I behave and pay me rent, he don’t ask no questions,” said Ralph breezily. “Old Walter don’t tell folk who it is lives here, and neither do I. You’re in what the sailors call a safe haven.”
“Have you been to sea, then?” John asked him curiously.
Beth looked at Ralph’s hands, noticing they were rough and strong. “Yes, your earring – does that mean you were a sailor?”
“Might have visited a few far-off places, relieved a few merchantmen of a few of their wines and silks...” Ralph said shiftily.
“You were a pirate!” John cried with dismay.
“An adventurer of the high seas!” he replied indignantly. “Anyways, why don’t you two perch on me bed and I’ll take the chair. Only, one of the legs is dodgy and you have to sit on it just right or it has a tendency to pitch you on your bum ... Oops! Ladies present, pardon my language.”
Baffled that this young man could really also be a spy, Beth settled herself on the edge of the bed alongside John. It felt hard and uncomfortable. “I still want to know about you and Alan Strange. Why didn’t he tell me about you?”
“Mister Strange only gives away what he needs to.”
That much was true. But even an enemy who knew Strange would know that. “Whither do you meet him? What secret signal does he use to call you to him?”
“Well now, mistress, it wouldn’t hardly be a secret if I went telling all and sundry, would it?”
Beth shook her head, exasperated. “Well, why did he take you into his confidence in the first place?”
For the first time, Ralph looked distinctly uncomfortable. “He got me out of a tight spot, and in return ... let’s just say I’m repaying a debt.”
Beth hardly knew any more than she had before she had begun quizzing him, but she sensed further questions would get her nowhere, so she turned to John.
“And what is your place in all this? Why is Edmund Groby after you?”
John took a deep, shaky breath before he answered. Beth – and Ralph, if the story he told was true – had some experience of these situations, but she noticed poor John still looked rather shaken after the events of the last few hours.
“Before you visited me at the Navy Board offices this morning, I was sent with another clerk, my friend Will, to investigate a strange ship that had turned up in the Thames,” he said. “As far as we could see, there was no crew on board...”
As he continued with his tale about his friend’s unearthly scream and the disappearance of the ship, Beth was reminded of Strange’s words when she had showed her disappointment at being asked to solve the mystery of a mere empty ship. He had said “apparently empty”, as if there was more to it than she had initially suspected. Now it seemed he was right.
“... and then I was knocked out,” John finished.
“By pirates?” Ralph asked, perking up.
“Er...” began John, remembering the grappling hook he had been tugging hurtling towards his head. “Possibly. Probably. Anyway, when I came to, both Will and the ship had gone.”
“What was her name?” Beth asked.
“Doodgaan.”
“Ah! The name you wrote on the playbill next to my picture! Groby tried to twist it – he told me it meant you were out to kill me.” She frowned. “A ship named for death...?”
“I only wrote the word next to your name because I was thinking of you...” He quickly reddened as soon as he realized what he had said. “I mean, I was thinking about the ship just after you had left and given me the playbill...”
Ralph sniggered, but Beth ignored him. “I was sent to find out about that ship by Mister Strange,” she said. “John, it’s important that you tell me all you know about it.”
“Well, when I visited the commissioner of the Navy Board later on to see whether there was any news of Will or the ship, I came upon a terrible sight...”
He went on to tell the rest of his gruesome tale: the trail of blood inside the Navy Board offices; his glimpse of Arthur Jones, his senior officer, with his throat cut, and Sir Roger Fortescue, the commissioner – who seemed to be in league with the man he now knew as Edmund Groby.
“The only clue I have is that I thought I overheard Fortescue say the Doodgaan had been taken to Tower Wharf. But I can’t be sure I’m afraid,” he said, his handsome face still pale at recounting what he had witnessed.
Beth gazed out of the window into the darkness where, between the houses at the end of the street, she could see the bobbing lights of ships on the black waters of the Thames. Was the Doodgaan still out there? Alan Strange had made no mention of Will being aboard, but the fate of one appeared to be tied up with the other, and she dared not report back to her spymaster until she had got to the bottom of it.
“I will help you find your friend,” she said at last.
“Finally, some action!” Ralph said, brightening. “Count me in.”
“I don’t need your help,” Beth replied curtly.
“Don’t need my help? Who’s provided you with a safe place to hide out, eh? Who saved you from Edmund Groby? Little Red Riding Hood?”
“I don’t even really know if you are who you say you are! But if you are one of Alan Strange’s spies, you will know as well as I do that one of the first rules he imparts is never to believe what you’re told without confirming for yourself that it is the truth.”
“And the next is to use your noddle and ignore the rules if it gets results.” Ralph rose from his chair and reached into his tunic. For a second Beth tensed, ready to spring up and defend herself. But Ralph merely removed a piece of paper.
“I obtained this from Edmund Groby when he came into your dressing room!” He flourished it in front of Beth’s face, but when she tried to snatch it from him he whisked it away. “Ah! I’m not part of your team, so there’s no reason why I should give you this clue to where your precious ship might be found!”
“But how did you—” John began.
Beth jumped in before Ralph could taunt them any further. “You bumped into him,” she said slowly, as the realization dawned. “You pretended to stumble but ... you’re a pickpocket!”
“I’m a man of many talents that you’d find useful on your mission,” he smirked. “If you were to dispense with your precious rules...”
“Beth, I believe him,” John said. “If he had been an enemy, he could easily have led us into a trap. Instead, he got us away from Groby and even picked his pocket. I may not be a spy but I think I can tell when someone is lying, and I say Ralph is on our side.”
Beth sighed, and turned to study Ralph. She knew that the best – and most dangerous – spies were the ones who were able to go along with you even to the extent of appearing to betray their own side, wheedling their way deep into your confidence ’til they had you just where they wanted you...
In her head there was a nagging doubt, but her heart told her that John was right – and that at some point they would need to call upon Ralph’s Chandler’s dubious skills.
“First of all, you are hardly yet a man,” she said, then grudgingly folded her arms. “But I feel we have no
choice but to trust you. All right – you’re in.” She stepped towards him. “But the first sign of betrayal and I cut your scrawny throat.”
“Charming!” Ralph quipped, handing her the document he’d snatched from Groby.
Beth soon realized that it was a docking slip for Tower Wharf. “It looks like you were right, John,” she said eagerly, glancing between the two young men and showing them the proof. “We shall all visit Tower Wharf first thing on the morrow.”
“Nah!” Ralph protested. “Far too many folk about then. We need the cover of darkness.”
“Fine. Then we’ll all meet back tomorrow afternoon here to prepare for—”
“No time!” Ralph persisted. “How long do you think it will take Groby to realize his docking slip is missing and figure out what we’ll do? It’s dark now, my friends!”
The three of them exchanged glances, and without another word needing to be said, they made quickly for the door.
Chapter Thirteen - Tower Wharf
With Ralph taking the lead, the newly-formed team slipped silently through the night-time thoroughfares of London. The more important streets were lit by lanterns, and by law people were supposed to hang candles or lanterns outside their houses at night for the benefit of pedestrians, but few bothered. On some streets, linkboys might sometimes be found carrying flaming torches, and for a small fee they would light the way for travellers. But Ralph stuck to the unlit side streets and alleys as they made their way to the docks, seeming to know every inch of the city’s maze of streets like the back of his hand – which Beth suspected he probably did. It was quiet by this time, but every now and then they came across some theatre-goer straggling homeward, a group leaving a tavern, or some other late-night wanderer. Where possible, they crossed the street or darted from one narrow lane into a yet narrower one, always glancing back furtively over their shoulders to make sure they weren’t being followed.
When the stink of dead animals and human waste began to sting Beth’s nostrils, she knew they were near the river - the place where it was all too easy for Londoners to dispose of anything and everything they no longer needed. John stuck close to her, and although she worried a little about how he would cope if danger struck, the way he had met the challenge when she had beckoned him on stage gave her hope. And anyway, even though Ralph Chandler’s underworld skills might prove useful, it was good to have the company of someone “normal”, a young man who was not caught up in darker side of life – not to mention someone who seemed good-hearted and who she felt she could trust. She tried to tell herself that the fact that he was good-looking had nothing to do with her professional assessment...
When they found themselves swallowed by the shadows of the daunting walls of the Tower of London, a grey hulking presence against the black sky, Beth knew the wharf was only a short walk away. They all instinctively slowed to a more cautious pace. It was hard to see each other’s faces, but Beth somehow sensed that John was growing increasingly edgy.
“How do you fare, John?” she said.
“To be truthful,” he whispered, “I’m petrified. But my determination to rescue my friend is greater than my fear.”
Beth reached out for his hand and gave it a squeeze of reassurance. She heard him give what sounded like a rather self-conscious swallow and smiled a little to herself in the darkness.
They came to a huge warehouse, one of several that lined the river here, and Ralph led them along its back wall to the corner. They peered warily around towards the wharf and the river. Beyond the shadowy outline of piles of packing cases, barrels, and the wooden cranes like long-necked birds perched on the river bank, they could make out the naked black masts of numerous moored ships swaying gently on the current.
“Lord!” Ralph groaned. “So many ships! T’will take us all night just to find the right one, let alone search her.”
John stepped in front of him, gazing intently into the darkness. “No. No, it won’t.” Beth tried to follow his direction of sight, which seemed to be fixed on one particular vessel. “I know the ship we want. I shall never forget her outline as long as I live.” He broke cover and began to stride towards the river – but Ralph pulled him back by the tail of his coat.
“Wait!”
Beth immediately saw why – a night watchman carrying a lighted torch suddenly came into view. He slowly plodded across the wharf, glancing left and right in a weary manner, then disappeared round the front of the warehouse.
“Give him a few moments to get clear,” Ralph whispered, “then we must move quickly, for he’ll return in fifteen minutes.”
Beth frowned at him. “You’ve done this before!”
“There’s rich pickings on them ships if you know where to look.”
“You’re a thief as well as a pirate?” John hissed, exasperated.
“Someone who makes use of what others has left carelessly lying about, I prefer to call it,” Ralph retorted. “But I’ve left that life behind me now. Now stop yer yacking and get ready to move.”
He set off at a brisk pace with his peculiar sailor’s gait. Beth grabbed John’s arm and they quickly followed, heading towards the sound of water lapping against the hulls of the ships. Within a few seconds they were alongside the pitch-black hull of the ship John had pointed out to them.
“You sure this is it?” Ralph queried. “All these boats looks alike to me. I don’t know how anyone can be expected to tell the difference.”
“I’ll prove it to you,” John replied confidently. “She’s got Doodgaan written in red on the side at her prow, remember?”
Beth and Ralph followed him as he crept towards the front of the vessel.
“The name is right here...” Then John’s confident tone faded into the darkness of the night, leaving him staring at the blank planking of the ship. “But...?”
“See – they are all the same,” Ralph grumbled. “Could be any of these leaky old tubs. Better start searching, then. No time to waste.”
He began to steal towards the ship moored beside the one they had examined. John hesitantly followed, still looking over his shoulder to where he had expected to see the painted name, but Beth lingered behind. She could smell something – something mingled in with the distinctive pitch and tar used to make a ship’s planking watertight, and the miles of limp, sea salt-infused rigging. She shuffled right to the edge of the dock and leaned as far out over the river as far as she dared, sniffing like a bloodhound.
“Paint!” she hissed at last, causing John and Ralph to come scurrying back. “Look! From here you can see a patch of planking glistening. It’s freshly dried paint – they’ve tried to hide her name!”
“I knew it!” John said a little too loudly.
“Ssssh!” Ralph whispered, pulling John down into a crouch suddenly. Beth ducked down too, spotting the night watchman on his return journey. They were in the open this time, with nothing to take refuge behind. The shadow cast by the ship made them virtually invisible at least, but if the watchman had heard John’s voice or caught sight of them moving around, they were done for...
The light from his lantern kept spreading across the wharf as he steadily swung it left and right, casting his gaze all around. Was the light strong enough to reach their hiding place? Beth held her breath, watching where the beam fell. He had altered his course slightly to avoid a barrel, and was now heading much closer than she had expected. He extended the lantern to his right again, its pale yellow light picking out the thick mooring cable of the ship two ahead of the Doodgaan, making the drops of water hanging from the rope glisten like jewels. They were about to be lit up like actors on a stage!
Ralph had figured this out too. “Run for it!” he hissed.
John started to bob up, but Beth pressed down on his shoulder. “No! Ralph! Stay put. If we move now we’ll be seen for sure, and if we’re discovered meddling around here they’ll probably move the ship. We cannot ruin this chance. We must only run if we know he’s seen us.”
“I know
what Captain Jack Turner of the Revenge would do!” John whispered suddenly as the night watchman’s light played against the side of the last ship before theirs.
“Oh, splendid,” Ralph muttered. “And how do you propose we send for him?”
Beth grinned. “He’s right here!”
“Eh?”
Just as the approaching man was about to bring his lantern back to the right and bathe them in its light, John scooped up a handful of gravel from the dockside and threw it towards the warehouse. It rattled against the wooden doors and walls, and the night watchman spun quickly round. He held his lantern in that direction and pulled a wooden club from his belt, advancing like a tiger on the prowl.
“Aye-aye, captain!” Ralph whispered, patting John on the back. “All aboard!”
They quickly but stealthily scampered up the gangway and onto the mysterious Doodgaan.
“Let’s start with the living quarters,” Beth suggested. “I’ll start with the captain’s cabin, you two make your way through the smaller ones.”
“Fine,” Ralph said quickly.
“All right,” John said, his voice shaky.
In almost total darkness, Beth had to feel her way cautiously around the unfamiliar surroundings of the vessel with her hands outstretched like a blind woman, bumping into casks and cannon, entangling herself in ropes. She tried to steady her pounding heartbeat as she slowly led them to a gangway and down some steps leading to the lower deck. Were they alone? Could someone burst out at them at any moment?
Once at the bottom she could just make out a large door ahead of her that could only be the captain’s quarters. She eased it open as quietly as she could while the others broke away and commenced their own searches. She could hear the patter of Ralph’s distinctive footsteps next door as she navigated her way among the chairs and big table in the centre.
But it was hopeless. Even though there was a large window built into the stern, it was dark outside, and there simply wasn’t enough light for her to be able to make out anything at all, other than the shadowy outlines of the cabin furniture, and a candle in the middle of the table that she couldn’t possibly light without giving them all away. But as she felt her way around she came across what had to be the captain’s cot – an open, coffin-like wooden box, which hung from the beams above so that when the ship rolled it swung freely and didn’t tip its occupant out.
