The Devil's Own Luck (33 page)

“Good evening, gentlemen,” said Harry, blocking off the entrance to the stall. The gamblers spun round, and froze as they saw the barrel of the pistol glinting in the faint light. “Forgive me for disturbing you.”

They did not respond, keeping their eyes on the pistol. Harry was curious about their escape route. There had to be one. No point in risking a flogging, in a place from which you could not disappear at the first hint of trouble. Harry waited quietly. He saw one of them glance above his head.

“The hawse hole,” he said, smiling. “Which, in an emergency, would put you on the beak. Where do you go from there? Do you sit it out, or do you clamber on to the forecastle?” Simple but effective. Harry had wondered if they had cut a trapdoor somewhere for an escape route.

“You know who I am?”

“We do, Mr Ludlow,” said a voice from the back of the group. Harry could not see his face, which was in shadow.

“Good. For I have to persuade you that you are in no danger from me.”

“Then put up your gun,” said the voice.

“I shall, in a moment. Perhaps you would come into the light where I can see you?”

“I think not, Mr Ludlow. Whatever it is you want, seein’ my face ain’t going to alter it. I don’t think you are here to partake of the game.”

“True. And nothing would give me greater pleasure than to leave you in peace to continue yours.”

Again silence. Harry heard a slight scratching sound. It could have been anything, but it could also be someone searching for a weapon.

“You must all be thinking that the best thing to do would be to rush me. After all, if I were to let on about this, you would all be in for a fair number of lashes. What really worries me is that this gun will go off regardless. That will make it very difficult for all of us.”

“Belay, Jeff, for fuck’s sake. That pistol’s pointin’ at me.” The scratching sound stopped. “Your bein’ here would require explain-in’ too.”

“Yes. But not to the bos’n.” Harry paused to let his words have some effect. “But I am not here to threaten you. I am here to ask you to help me.”

“An’ if we choose not to?” It was infuriating not being able to see the man’s eyes. Harry found it hard to try and judge his intent, just by the tone of his voice.

“Nothing will happen.” He raised the pistol slightly. “This was merely to get you to think, to stay still long enough to let me explain my case.”

“As well as to keep you alive.”

“That too.”

“So you are sayin’ that regardless of what we do, you’re not goin’ to split on us.”

“No. And for several reasons. One, it is none of my business, and two, if it is as easy as this to sneak up on you, I doubt if any of your officers want the trouble.”

“And just what is it that you want from us?”

“Information, freely given, about the night Mr Bentley was murdered.”

“And if we was to give you information, what would you do with it?”

“If it was what I seek, I would use it to help clear my brother.”

“Information would be no use unless it is sworn.”

“Let’s start with the information. Were you here on the night of Mr Bentley’s death?”

“Mr Ludlow. There is not a man here who knows anything about that. Because we was here, and when the alarm was raised, we scarpered back to our hammocks fuckin’ quick.”

“Not just you?”

A long pause, then that same steady voice. “Likely that’s true.”

“Is this the only gambling school?”

“Aye.” That was quick and definite, and probably a lie.

“But there are other people who are about at night?”

“We keep ourselves to ourselves. An’ they do the same.”

“On your way back to your bunks did you see anyone else?”

“Mr Ludlow. Supposing that I was to tell you that one of our number saw something, and that that somethin’ would be of help to you. Would you then undertake not to ask the man’s name, nor press for anythin’ to be sworn?”

“Would you trust me if I said yes?”

“I can only speak for myself. But I saw you on deck this mornin’. And I know that there were quite a number of men who, had you choose to finger them, would be facing a floggin’ round the fleet, if not a rope round their necks. You knew who they were, didn’t you?

“Not all of them.”

“One would have been enough within those buggers. He would have named his mates just to save his own skin.”

“So?”

“So I’m sayin’ that if you will give me your word, then I am inclined to accept it.”

“Then you have it.”

“I’d be obliged if you would say it out loud. Make me feel safer.”

“Should you give me information that will help my brother, I will not say where it came from, or ask you to swear.” The faces he could see relaxed a bit. “Without coming back to ask you first.”

“That’s fair,” said the voice, quieting the murmur of protest from his mates. “No one would want to see your brother hang, Mr Ludlow. Not for somethin’ he didn’t do.”

“You seem very sure.”

“Not sure, your honour. But one of our number, an’ I’m not sayin’ who, exceptin’ it weren’t me, saw somethin’ that throws a bit of a question on what is bein’ said.”

“Which is?”

“Which is, if those two no-good bastards, Meehan and Porter, were supposed to be on hand to see Bentley sliced, how come one of our number saw them scurrying to their bunks, and coming from the other direction at that?”

Harry tried to keep the excitement out of his voice. If he had needed proof that his suspicions of Carter were not just based on personal prejudice, then here it was.

“I leave you with a question, gentlemen. I will keep my word. But if those two swear to what they saw, perjuring themselves in the process, it will be scant comfort to me, or my brother, to have such unattested knowledge.”

“People die, Mr Ludlow. More poor bastards die on the lower deck than abaft the mizzen. There’s plenty that’s gone on aboard this ship that needs investigatin’. Trouble is, it’s too late to save the person wronged.”

“Larkin?”

“Him, for one. A proper scamp that boy.”

“But well liked?”

“He had a way with him. Even Mr Bentley used to laugh at his antics.”

“So what happened to him?”

“They say he fell overboard.” The voice cast no opinion, maintaining that steady, almost monotonous tone.

“What do you say?”

“Christ. It’s not what I say. It’s what we all say.” There was some emotion in the voice at last. “That boy knew no fear. He would go anywhere and do anything. As long as it could be said to be a bleedin’ laugh. And he was like a monkey in the riggin’. Lad like that is not goin’ to fall overboard on a dead calm night, with no cunt to see him going. No scream, no crying out. It don’t add up.”

“But he did go overboard.”

“Some say in a sack.”

“Who?”

“You’re in the wrong part of the ship for that question.”

Harry realized that he’d been sidetracked. Sad as the death of the ship’s boy was, his reasons for being here were more pressing.

“I return to the question. If I can find no other way to clear my brother, can I count on you, whoever you are?”

It was chilling, the way no one but the speaker responded.

“One thing at a time, Mr Ludlow. You can’t expect people who you have come on sudden with a gun in your hand to leap into somethin’ without considerin’ it. But I say you can come back an’ ask.”

“Enjoy your game, gentlemen.” Much as Harry would have liked to stay and try and persuade whoever it was to reveal publicly what he had seen, it was better to leave the man who had spoken to use his influence. That he intended to seemed plain from what he had said. No good would be served by Harry trying to aid his efforts. He backed out of the manger, still careful not to disturb the animals. Once out on the gundeck again, he tucked the pistol in his belt, picked up his lantern, and headed for the nearest companionway.

Down on the orlop-deck he walked silently past the various screened-off quarters of the ship’s warrant officers. No one was about, and he made his way quickly aft, ignoring the carpenter’s walk, a narrow space on both sides of the ship for the carpenter to come at the hull, and a likely spot for nefarious activity. Below the waterline, damp air and the smell of the bilge water were very strong. He went right aft till he was under the gunroom.

He unshaded the lantern a fraction, just enough to remind him of his direction, for he had not been in this part of a 74-gun ship for years. He made his way along the walkway, until he was outside the bread-room. He stood at the door, in the dark, listening. The room was lined in tin to keep out the rats, and no sound came from within. But a sound came from behind him, and Harry quickly dropped to his knees.

There was a loud thud above his head, followed by a curse. Harry put his lantern on the deck and flicked the shutter fully open. The light revealed a man standing over him, club in hand, uncertain of which direction to aim it. Harry grabbed both the man’s ankles as he looked down at the light. He pulled hard. On the damp walkway the feet came easily, and his assailant crashed to the ground.

The bread-room door flew open, knocking Harry over on to his adversary. He rolled on, pulling his pistol from his belt as he did so. There was enough light from his lantern to see several figures crowded in the doorway. The light was on the wrong side of the door, leaving them in shadow. Harry slid forward and pressed his pistol into the neck of the man struggling to rise from the deck.

“Hold there, my friend,” he said, pushing hard, causing the man to yell in pain, “and the rest of you stay, or I’ll bring the whole ship down around your ears.” When they made to move towards him, Harry pressed the gun into the man’s neck again. Again he yelled, this time trying to suppress it.

“Stay,” croaked the man lying on his back.

“We’re damned if we stay,” said one of the men from the bread-room door.

“I’ll see you damned if you go,” snapped Harry. “If not you all, then this one.” Again he pressed hard with the gun. “Now back off!”

“Christ, lads,” croaked Harry’s victim. “Didn’t you hear him? Back off!”

“Fuck you,” said one, and he started to run down the gangway. As though a spring had been released, he was followed by the others, their bare feet making little sound, as they disappeared up the companionway.

“Loyal friends you have,” said Harry, easing the pressure of the gun a bit. He pushed the bread-room door shut with his free hand, and leaning over he pulled the light towards them. The man made to move as the lantern was lifted, but Harry hit him in the jaw with the pistol butt, before pressing it back into his throat.

“Now, what would your friends have been talking about in the bread-room, at this time of night?”

He didn’t respond. Harry knew. Pender had told him that he would be likely to find the malcontents gathered here. They had tried to recruit Pender when he first came aboard. It had been a subtle approach, as befitted recruitment to a group who could only pray for a hanging if caught. Pender, having turned them down, had then made it his business to find out where they met, and who made up their numbers. As Harry had surmised, Pender was a man who would not feel safe if he did not know what was going on, and where.

“They’ll be back in their hammocks by now. What do you suggest I do with you?”

“Do what you will. But I’ll say nothing.”

Privately, Harry was sympathetic to the many grievances that sailors in the King’s Navy had. Their pay had not been raised since the time of the second Charles, and it was always in arrears. Due to the endemic corruption in the administration of the fleet, their food was often rotten, their water foul, while the discipline which their officers administered could be sadistically harsh. Given a man like Bentley as premier, and a captain like Carter to do his bidding, it was not surprising that some of the crew gathered to discuss mutiny. And he could understand why the others had run and left this man at his mercy. That would be the first rule that they would all swear to obey. That and the rule of silence if they were caught.

“Sit up,” said Harry, crouching back on his haunches, his gun aimed at the man’s head. The sailor obeyed, and Harry could now see his face clearly.

“I want some information.”

A firm shake of the head.

“Not about your mates.” Harry turned the lantern so that it shone on his face as well. “How do you think it would look if I was found in the company of a group of seditious mutineers?”

He knew that he had been recognized. The man tried not to respond, but it was plain in his eyes that he knew whom he was addressing.

“I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“I think you do. And I think you will also realize that while I am in a position to personally harm you, I am not likely to do anything that will ease the mind of your commander. So, think a little. Then I am going to ask you some questions. Failure to answer could be painful.”

The man started to say something, but the sudden proximity of the pistol to his cheek stopped him.

“Think first.” Harry stayed silent for some moments. “Did you have a meeting the night Mr Bentley was murdered?”

The man said nothing. “You’ll answer me,” Harry pulled his knife out of his waistband, “because I’ll truly hurt you if you don’t.”

“Do your damnedest. I’ll say nothin’.”

“My damnedest? I wonder if you really appreciate what my damnedest could be. You have recognized me, I know that. My brother is set to hang unless I can find out who killed Bentley. There are no lengths I won’t go to, in order to gain such information.”

The man’s laugh took Harry totally by surprise.

“Happen your brother didn’t do it. But let him fuckin’ hang anyway. You can all hang, all you folks with your money, your power and your heel ground in the face of ordinary folk. Let him hang I say. Then let them find the real killer, another of your ilk, I dare say. And then hang that bastard too.”

The man was spitting as he spoke. Something in Harry’s eye must have told him he was in no real danger. He started to pull himself away, slithering along the deck on his bottom.

“Do you really think I care? I’d do what the Frenchies have done. They’ve got the right idea. String the lot of you up. Or put some of them there guillotines in front of Westminster Abbey.”