The Devil's Own Luck (29 page)

Craddock was on deck. From his face, caked with salt, and his eyes, red from the wind, it was plain that he had been there all night. Yet when Harry looked around he could see little evidence of the damage the storm must have done. The battle damage was still plain, and the missing foremast was obvious. But the decks had been tidied and any loose rigging had been either cut away or rerove.

“Mr Ludlow,” croaked Craddock. “I am heartily glad to see you well.”

“And you, Mr Craddock.” Harry handed him the remains of his coffee. Craddock drank gratefully. “A busy night, I see.”

“The captain has just retired.”

“I should suggest that you follow his example.”

“Soon, Mr Ludlow. Soon. I would say that we are safe enough here.”

“No point in trying to rig a jury foretopmast while the wind is so strong.”

“Aye.” Craddock looked about him. “Mr Denbigh.”

The midshipman, curled up against the bulwarks, was sound asleep. Harry walked over and shook him awake. He crawled out from under his oilskin, and got unsteadily to his feet. Craddock had looked the other way, not wishing to have to reprimand the boy.

“Sir,” said Denbigh, still half-asleep.

“Please be so good as to rouse Mr Collins to take over the watch.”

“Mr Craddock. If I may make a suggestion?”

Craddock looked at him with a frown. Tired, he saw any delay in his reaching his cot as an unwarranted intrusion. Yet his manners covered his exhaustion and his anger.

“While you and your officers have secured the ship, I have, for my shame, been sound asleep. Since I hazard that you intend to undertake no arduous tasks until the weather moderates, might I suggest that I take the watch, and give both you, and your officers, some opportunity to rest.”

“Most gallant, Mr Ludlow. Most gallant, sir. I am sure that all the officers will be grateful.” Then the frown returned.

“I shall rouse you at the first sign of any danger. And I am well qualified, Mr Craddock. I have had the watch on bigger ships than this.”

“Carry on, sir. Only essentials, Mr Ludlow. The hands are in as bad a way as the officers.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE WEATHER
was clearing, the wind dropping noticeably. But the sea was still rough from the previous night, great waves turning to angry spume on the reef to starboard. Pender appeared bearing a plate of hot food. Harry reflected on the nature of someone who had only been his servant for a few days, yet who took such care of his comfort and safety. It was almost as though the younger man had adopted him.

“Like the morning after the night before downstairs, Mr Lud-low.”

“Has anyone mentioned Mr James?”

“No. They’re more concerned with sleep than anything else. Seems we have the ship to ourselves.” Pender smiled at the possibilities that presented.

“It would be interesting to be able to use that time. However, I can’t. I have told Mr Craddock I will stand watch, and I must fulfil that promise.”

“Strikes me that if anyone deserves a promise honoured, it’ll be Mr Craddock.”

“Odd, that spirit room being unguarded,” said Harry.

“Just as odd the drunken sods sorting your brother out as a Jonah. It don’t make sense. I know they got rattled about the boy that went overboard, ‘cause some of the hands had sort of adopted him as a kind of mascot. He was a cheeky little bugger by all accounts. But how they can put that down to someone who wasn’t even aboard at the time, I can’t see.”

“Sailors are a superstitious lot, Pender. You haven’t spent enough time at sea to know just how stupid they can be.”

“I might not have seen much evidence of superstition, your honour. But I’ve seen enough stupidity to last me a lifetime. And as for them sorting out your brother, it just seems to me that it happened mighty quick. From what I’ve heard, that sort of thing takes months to get goin’.”

“True. And it usually takes more than one storm to make everybody feel that way. Mind, we have had the odd unexplained body laying about.”

“There’s not a jot of sympathy for either of them. That I can vouch for. No one has been flogged since Mr Bentley got his.” Pender dropped his voice to a whisper. “And as for Howarth, he was such an arse-licker that no one was sad to see the back of him.”

“Odd then, as you say. It all seems to come back to that boy. Outhwaite said as much, though he hates to let on that superstition exists, let alone good grounds for it. Things changed after his death, especially the amount of punishment. Carter and Bentley, hitherto friendly . . .” Harry looked around the rigging as though doing so would enlighten him. He heard the words that the sailor had spat at Bentley. “Murderous” the man had called him, mentioning Larkin. But if the boy had fallen overboard? And Prentice had been alarmed by his name. He might have said something if Denbigh hadn’t interrupted him. But Prentice wasn’t aboard at the time. The person to talk to was Denbigh himself.

Bentley was killed for a reason. That reason is aboard this ship. If it is, then others must know about it, or at least, know something that will point in the right direction. Harry’s thoughts turned to the secret life of the ship. People who breached the rules knew what was going on. They had to if they wanted to survive. Those too, he must speak to. The only alternative was to question the whole crew, and that would not be allowed, even if it were possible. “Did you find out anything about the barge crew?”

“Mess by the pump shaft, lazy buggers.” Crewing the captain’s barge was considered to be a privileged position. Not only did they do less work, but they were allowed to run ashore every time the captain did so.

“Who’s Carter’s coxswain?”

“Marchant. Swarthy bugger. You might have noticed him. Tall. Wears gaudy clothes. Always sewing coloured threads into his jacket.”

“Doesn’t sound the type for Carter. If ever there was a man who liked things plain . . . I wonder what they get up to when they go down the pump shaft?”

“Any number of things, your honour.”

“Surely the crew talk about it?”

“Best not to, I was told. First thing I found out when I came on board was that the barge crew was best avoided. Law unto themselves, I was informed. They keep themselves separate, and they make it plain that they will warrant no enquiries into their doings.”

“But does it not make you curious?”

Pender’s face took a pious look. “I learned when I was a lad that curiosity is a mortal sin, best avoided. So I don’t enquire if’n a thing don’t concern me.”

“Remarkable, Pender. It almost flies in the face of human nature.” Harry was trying hard to keep the smile from showing on his face.

“Well, it don’t interfere with staying alive,” Pender nearly snapped at him. “And I’d best be getting your belongings sorted out.”

“Pender. I can well understand your reluctance to rat on your mates. It must be hard for you to understand that I don’t represent authority, at least not on this ship. I only represent myself, and of course, James. My only reason for enquiring about anything bears directly on that matter. And please understand, I know ships and sailors better than you. The rules are broken all the time in the Navy, but nobody minds so long as they are not flouted. And if there is something going on, it may be kept a secret from the officers, but it is in no way a secret from everybody. Is it?”

Pender’s face closed up, so unusual in a man with such an open countenance. “I told you, Mr Ludlow. I don’t enquire.”

“And I am telling you that I don’t believe you. You may have a way of finding things out that avoids the direct question. But you are the type who needs to know what is happening. You wouldn’t feel safe otherwise.”

Pender said nothing, just looking at the deck.

“I owe you a great deal already, and I will not use pressure to get you to talk. But if you don’t tell me, then I must find out for myself.”

Pender looked up slowly, his tongue running over his teeth. Harry admired the way the man could look him straight in the eye, without a trace of fear.

“It probably has no bearing on who killed Bentley. But I must enquire in case it does. There could be endless reasons for his death. They could be something that has its origins ashore. I don’t know. All I know, is that the killer is on board ship, and I must look at every possibility, and eliminate them if I can as the motive. Only by doing that can I narrow things down to the point where I will be able to come at the truth. And I would remind you that I don’t have any time for subtlety.”

“What you’re saying, Mr Ludlow, is that if I let on to you what I know, then I will be, more’n likely, protecting my shipmates, rather than dropping ‘em in it.”

“That is what I am saying.”

“Well, if’n you’ll forgive me, I don’t feel much like sayin’ anythin’ here.” Pender looked about at the exposed quarterdeck. There was only an anchor watch set, a few men to keep an eye on the cables holding the
Magnanime
in position. But it was still a place where you could be overheard.

Harry soaked himself, and the cabin, luxuriating in hot water. Pender sat on top of the desk. With the canvas bath in the cabin there was little room for anything else. He had enjoyed an hour with James before someone had realized that he was missing. Turnbull, having bedded down in his uncle’s cabin, was not aware that James had spent the night in the wardroom.

The ship was searched, and no sign was found. There were a number of hands missing after the storm. It could only be concluded that James Ludlow had joined them. It was a doleful Turnbull who had come to inform Harry that his charge was missing. The unhappy look soon turned to an angry one as Harry stood aside to reveal his brother standing behind him. The ship rang with Turnbull’s angry shouts, as he ordered the marines to come and take him back under restraint again.

In the hour they’d had together, it had been possible, for the first time, to properly examine the case for and against James. Harry still held back, not entirely willing to trust James with the conclusions he had drawn. Asked to say why, he could not have answered. But whatever was left unsaid, it did not look good, and it was only their natural optimism, plus their mutual refusal to depress each other, that kept them from being downhearted.

The ship had come alive again. A few hours’ sleep had restored everyone to a semblance of health, and the whole ship resounded with hammering and crashing as things were put right. Craddock had the deck holystoned and swabbed to remove the bloodstains, evidence of the cost of the recent fight.

Most important, they were beginning to rig a jury foretopmast, and preparations were well in hand to get under way. The wind was still foul, though moderate. If it died away any more, they would have the boats out, and use the falling tide to tow her out of the bay.

Harry, having considered, and rejected, the idea of trying to get James ashore here, was as keen as anyone to get the ship to sea. Only when the
Magnanime
had returned to a normal routine would he be able to get on with his investigation. He dare not distract Craddock to ask if he had found out who had raised the alarm on the night of Bentley’s murder, because the man was far too busy. Nor could he investigate the various things that Pender had told him because both watches were working flat out to repair the ship. Everyone was busy except him, so busy that he had got first use of the canvas bath, an item which had apparently been the property of Bentley.

Pender had laid out some fresh clothes on the cot, and was making a pig’s ear of trying to repair the shirt that Harry had taken off. If anything revealed that Pender was not a sailor, it was this. The needle he was using spent more time embedded in his skin than it did in the cloth of the shirt. Sharp intakes of breath accompanied the sewing, and the unspoken curses constantly formed on his lips.

“For God’s sake leave it alone, man,” said Harry eventually. “I will do it myself.”

Pender looked quite shocked at such a suggestion. After all, he was supposed to be the servant.

“All right,” said Harry, recognizing the injured look. “But give it to someone who can do it. I don’t want you expiring from loss of blood.”

Pender’s face showed all the resentment of a man who was convinced that he could do anything well, given proper instructions and a chance to practise. Harry stood up, ignoring the water that cascaded over the side. Pender threw him a towel. There was a little more force in the throw than was truly necessary.

“The spirit room?” he asked.

“According to the ‘bullock’ I talked to, no one got any orders to guard the spirit room,” said Pender.

“Is this man reliable?”

“Can’t be sure. The only way to be sure is to question the lot of them.”

“It’s enough to sustain a complaint.”

“Poor Mr Craddock. He gets it all.” The slightly anxious look Pender flashed at Harry was a silent plea to seek another course. When it was discovered that the spirit room had been left unguarded, despite Carter’s express instructions, Craddock would carry the blame. It was part of the unenviable task of being first lieutenant, in that you took responsibility for everything. Put plainly, you took all the blame for the inability of others, while the captain took any credit for your efficiency.

“Can’t be helped, Pender. Those men would have slung James overboard. Can you find out who got them into such a state?”

“Even if they’ll talk to me, they wouldn’t let on, me being a new boy. And then they would be wanting to know why I was asking. What do I tell them?”

“A bribe?” asked Harry.

“Might work. But a threat would be better.” Pender had a gleam in his eye, and his smile had returned. He looked like a man who had just had a good idea.

“Go on.”

“Well. If’n I start asking questions, they are goin’ to see me as some kind of spy. But if I was to say that I’m havin’ the devil’s own job in stoppin’ you havin’ them all lined up on deck so’s you can identify the suspects, that might open them up a little, especially that Smithy character. ‘Cause if you was to go ahead and do that, then they might be for the high jump. The best they could hope for is a floggin’ round the fleet.”