Maddon's Rock (32 page)

And at that moment a man’s voice said, “Did yer ever hear the loike of it, Will? Oi bin at sea twenty-three years now and Oi never heard af a man being hanged for piracy. And what if it is piracy, to hang a man without trial, that’s murder to my way of thinking.”

The legs shifted, blocking my view of the
Trikkala
. Another voice close by said, “Murder?” His voice sounded scared. “Well, whatever it is, man, I don’t like it. The Captain must be daft. Whatever a man’s done, he’s a right to a trial. And Halsey now—is he a judge of what is an act of piracy? What happened on board the
Trikkala
when all the crew were lost, just tell me that, man?”

“Don’t look round,” I said quietly. I saw the legs jerk tense. “Just keep standing there,” I went on quickly. “I can answer your question. The
Trikkala’s
boats were tampered with so that the crew would all be lost. Twenty-three men were murdered that night. Halsey and Hendrik were chiefly responsible. They fixed it so that they had the
Trikkala
to themselves.”

“How do you know?” asked the Irishman.

“I escaped on a raft,” I replied. “Listen! This is the truth and your lives may depend upon it. Halsey will only take his original crew back to England. The rest will be left here on the Rock as soon as the silver has been stowed on board the tug and the
Trikkala
destroyed. Do you understand?”

They didn’t answer. “Has Halsey issued arms to the crew?” I asked.

“No. He and the mate are armed and two of his old crowd, Jukes and Evans.”

“So—he’s got you,” I said. “What about Rankin?”

“He’s scared. It’s only the four of them that has been issued with arms.”

“Ask Rankin to come here,” I said. “Tell him Vardy wants to speak to him. Say it’s a matter of life and death—for him. And tell the others what I have told you. If you don’t do something quickly your bones will be lying on Maddon’s Rock.”

“Is it true you’re a convict?” one of them asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I tried to warn the crew of the
Trikkala
. I was convicted of mutiny. Don’t ask any more questions. But as you value your lives, take over the ship.”

They did not move for a moment.

Then the Irishman said, “Come on, Will. Oi’d like a word with Jessop.” And their gum boots padded off along the deck.

It was only a small ray of hope, but it gave me courage. And with that little porthole open the cabin no longer seemed to close in around me and crush my spirits. The minutes ticked slowly by. Who was Jessop? Would they believe me? And if they did, would they act before
Halsey carried out his threat? Questions poured through my brain and fermented into all sorts of wild ideas. And the minutes dragged by slowly and inexorably.

I began to examine the cabin, more for something to do than out of any real interest. By the bunk was a small desk and over it a shelf containing books on seamanship. And among them was a Shakespeare and a complete Bernard Shaw, several of Eugene O’Neill’s plays and a copy of
The Plough and the Stars
. With sudden interest I took a bunch of letters from a pigeonhole in the desk. They were addressed to Captain Theodore Halsey. I was in Halsey’s cabin. After that, time slipped quickly by as I ran through the contents of the desk. I think I forgot that I’d only an hour to live in my excitement at ransacking his personal belongings for—well, I didn’t know what I was looking for. But I wanted a clue to his past. And I found it.

It was a little waterproof letter case. They were all personal letters in the case—letters from his wife who signed herself Toinette in a spidery foreign hand, from lawyers, from business men in Shanghai and Canton, from ship-owners. I pulled out a half-quarto envelope and shook the contents on to the desk. They were press cuttings. And staring at me from the pile was the very picture I had seen in the copy of the
Theatregoer
I had found on the
Trikkala.
Underneath was the name Leo Foulds. It was captioned: Arson Suspect Disappears. Below the picture was the story:

The young Shakespearean actor, Leo Foulds, wanted in connection with the fire at the Lyric Theatre, Islington, on January 25, in which ten people lost their lives, has disappeared. Foulds was the owner of the Lyric, where, as actor-manager, he was running an extravagant Shakespeare season. It is believed that he was heavily in debt. The Lyric was insured for a big sum. The fire began in the orchestra pit. One of the stage hands saw Foulds coming out of the pit just before the fire started. The police have a warrant for his arrest. It is understood that he may be charged with murder as well as arson.

The other cuttings were much the same. They were from the papers of February, 1922. I pushed them back into the envelope and slipped it into my pocket. As I was replacing the letter case a voice called me softly by name. I closed the drawers and jumped on to the chair again so that I could look through the porthole. Rankin was leaning with his back against the rail. I could just see his face. It looked white and flabby. His eyes met mine for a second and then he looked away, out towards the
Trikkala.
“I was told you wanted to see me,” he said quietly. His hand shook as he twisted nervously at one of the gilt buttons of his jacket.

“Yes,” I said. “You’re to be left on Maddon’s Rock with the rest of the crew.”

He turned towards me. His eyes were crazed with fear. “How do you know?” he asked. “Did Halsey tell you? What has he been saying about me?”

“I accused him of intending to maroon the tug’s crew on the rock,” I answered him. “His reply was—You’re right and I’ll leave that gutless swine Rankin there to keep them company.”

It was a lie. But he believed me. He believed me because it was the very thing he feared. “What do you want me to do?” he asked. “What can I do?” His voice was broken, pitiful. “I knew this would happen. Ever since that night in Newcastle I knew it would happen. All the way up here I knew this would be the end.”

“Couldn’t you have sent a radio message?” I asked.

“No. Second day out Halsey smashed the radio equipment. Explained it by saying secrecy was essential. But I knew then—I knew why he didn’t want the radio working.”

“Couldn’t you tell your fears to the crew?”

“No. They don’t trust me. They’re treasure-crazy anyway. They’re a tough lot.”

“They’re scared now though,” I told him. “Is there a man called Jessop on board?”

“Yes. He’s an American. He’s the toughest of the lot.”

“Well, go and have a word with him right away.’” I said. “He’s your man. Have you got a gun?”

“Yes. A revolver. I hid it in my cabin. Listen, Vardy. If I had a hand in saving your neck, would you—would you give evidence on my behalf at any trial?”

“Yes,” I said. “You’re not directly implicated in the murder of the
Trikkala’s
crew. At worst you’d only get a very light sentence. I might be able to get you off altogether. I’d do my best, anyway.”

“Mr. Rankin!” The voice was Hendrik’s. “Are you talking to yourself. Or—by God! That’s where we put Vardy.”

I shut the porthole and screwed it up. Then I sat down on the bunk. Footsteps came tumbling down the companion ladder. The key turned. I buried my head in my hands as the door opened. It was Hendrik. He glanced round the cabin and then up at the porthole. He didn’t say anything, but shortly afterwards Jukes came in to act as jailer. He had a rifle and there was a pistol stuck in his pocket. The door was locked after him on the outside.

So the minutes dragged by without my having a chance of any further contact with the crew. I now felt more resigned. But my brow was clammy and cold with sweat as though I had a fever. Jukes’ battered nose and torn ear seemed a constant reminder of the violence I faced.

At long last the engine-room telegraph sounded faintly from the bridge and the ship vibrated gently as the screws began to turn. I could hear the water swirling past the tug’s side. After a few minutes the engine-room telegraph rang again and the vibration ceased. Then Hendrik’s voice ordered all men to muster for’ard. The crews’ boots clattered on the deck planking above my head. Somebody was coming down the companion ladder. The key turned in the lock and the door opened. It was Hendrik. He had a length of twine in his hand. With this he bound my wrists behind my back. Then I was taken out on deck.

We were lying about four cables’ length from the stern of the
Trikkala
. I could see no sign of life on the deck of the rusty derelict. I was taken along the deck and thrust up on to the bridge. Halsey was there, pacing up and
down. Evans was standing by the wheel, a rifle slung over his shoulder and the butt of a pistol sticking out of his pocket. The men were clustering for’ard below the bridge. They looked a tough bunch. A rope with a noose at the end dangled from a pulley fixed to the mast.

Halsey stopped his pacing and faced me. “Now,” he said, smiling gently, “if you tell your friends to hand over the ship and the bullion, I’ll undertake to land you somewhere safe.”

“Yes,” I said loudly, “on Maddon’s Rock where you’re going to leave these poor fellows.” And I nodded in the direction of the crew. A slight murmur ran through the crowd of up-turned faces.

“Gag him,” Halsey said sharply. Jukes stuffed a dirty handkerchief into my mouth and bound it there with twine. “Hell change his mind when he feels the bite of the rope round his neck,” Halsey said, and fell to pacing the bridge again. Several more men came for’ard to join the others. There were about a dozen of them now. As Halsey passed me, I heard him muttering, “
Blood hath been shed ere now, I’ the olden time, ere human statute purg’d the gentle weal; Ay, and since too, murders have been perform’d too terrible for the ear
.” Then to Hendrik in a whisper, “Mr. Hendrik, keep your eyes on the men. They’re getting scared and I don’t trust them. And watch Rankin.”

Rankin was coming aft. He walked slowly with a strangely mincing step for such a large man. His face was working and his eyes looked over-large and fever bright. He began to climb the ladder to the bridge. “Mr. Rankin,” Halsey said. “I’ll trouble you to stay down there with the men.”

Rankin stopped. His mouth fell open. He hesitated for a moment as though fascinated by Halsey’s gaze. Then he turned and went down on to the deck again and for’ard to join the men.

Halsey went to the wind-breaker of the bridge and faced the crew. All his own men were behind him on the bridge. “Men,” he cried dramatically, his arm flung up as though he were Anthony calling a Roman mob to
silence. “Men—I have called you for’ard to witness the execution of a man for piracy on the High Seas.” The words rolled off his tongue with a violence that was accentuated by the background roar of the surf breaking along the reefs that enclosed us. “This man is a convict—a mutineer who escaped from Dartmoor and——”

But there he was interrupted by a tall, lankily-built man. “Cap’n Halsey, some of the boys and meself feel that when we shipped with you we didn’t figure on being a party to murder.”

“Who talks of murder?” Halsey answered with a thrust of his beard. “This is no murder. This is an execution.”

“You’ve no rights under international maritime law to hang a guy without trial,” the fellow interrupted again.

“When I want your views, Jessop, I’ll ask for them.” Halsey’s voice was sharp, almost a snarl.

But the American stuck to his guns and I felt a sudden hope. “See here, Cap’n, we feel this feller’s a right to a trial.”

Halsey’s fist crashed down on the bridge rail. “If you don’t keep quiet, you mutinous dog,” he shouted, “I’ll clap you in irons.” And then in a quick undertone to Hendrik, “Keep your gun handy and watch Rankin—he’s as nervous as a kitten.” He turned and faced his crew again. “Men,” he said, quieting the murmur that had risen, “with half a million pounds at stake, it’s no time to consider the niceties of international law. We must get aboard the
Trikkala
and if it is necessary to string up an escaped mutineer to achieve our ends, then it must be done, however much we may deplore it. Either he orders his people to hand over the
Trikkala
or we string him up.”

He turned to me then. “Well, Vardy?”

I nodded my head and made noises to indicate that I wanted to speak. Several of the crew murmured, “Let him speak.” Halsey came over to me and undid the gag. “Here’s the loudhailer mike,” he said, thrusting the little black bakelite box towards me.

“There’s one question I’d like to ask first,” I said
loudly so that the crew could hear. I saw his eyes watching me narrowly and hurried on. “What are you, going to do with these men—” I nodded towards the crew “—when you’ve got the silver. Are you going to abandon them as you abandoned——”

His fist crashed into my face and I staggered back against Jukes. At the same moment I heard Hendrik cry, “Look out, sir?”

My eyes were half closed with pain, but I saw the crowd below open out round Rankin. He had a pistol in his hand.

“Rankin—put that gun down,” Halsey ordered.

Like a man dazed with fever Rankin suddenly levelled it at Halsey. There was a flash and an ear-splitting report close beside me. Rankin’s mouth opened. A look of surprise crossed his face. He gave a deep, gurgling cough. A dribble of blood flowed from the corner of his mouth. The pistol clattered to the deck and his arm went slack. Then slowly he sagged at the knees and slumped across the anchor chain. Halsey stepped forward, his revolver smoking.

He went to the bridge and looked down at the dazed faces of his crew. “Mutiny—eh?” he said. Then in a wilder voice, “
Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out in sharing that which you have pill’d from me I Which of you trembles not that looks on me?
” His tone suddenly became steadier. “The first man that takes a step forward—I’ll shoot him.” They were dumb with fright, cowed. It was the madness of the man as much as the gun in his hand that held them back. They were afraid of him.

Hendrik plucked him by the sleeve and pointed to the
Trikkala
. “They’re training that gun of theirs on us, Cap’n Halsey. Do ye think it wise to risk being blown oot o’ the water?”

“So long as Vardy is alive they won’t shoot,” Halsey retorted sharply. “Anyway,” he added in a lower tone, “we’ve got to risk it.”