“O’ course! If I can’t tell a cask o’ spirits by the feel, I been wastin’ me time ashore.”
“Maybe some was carried as a ballast?”
“Nah – I was careful to choose three separate ones. The whole lot’ll have to be the same.”
They lapsed into silence. Forward the jury rig creaked constantly as it worked with the ship’s roll.
“Makes no sense. If the Cap’n wanted ter bam the merchant by landin’ the spirits fer his own ’n’ switchin’ sand in place of it, you’d think that ’e’d be smoked at t’other end.”
Bowyer frowned as he braced at the wheel. Kydd perceived his disquiet at the way things were developing.
“Whoever does get his ’ands on two ’undred barrels o’ whisky is goin’ to end up with a pile o’ guineas yer couldn’t jump over.” Doud unconsciously licked his lips.
“Doesn’t explain th’ sand,” Kydd said.
There was a murmur from Bowyer.
“What was that, Joe?”
“Well, mean ter say -”
“Come on, spit it out, mate!” Doud urged.
“Er, don’t like ter say it, but there is one reason I c’n think of.”
“Yeah?”
Bowyer looked intently at the weather leech of the mainsail. “Could be this is a coffin ship, mates.”
“It – what?” Kydd said.
“Not sayin’ as it is, but there’s them a’longshore who would send sailors to sea in a barky that ain’t meant to make port. Then they collects on the ing-surance when she don’t arrive.”
“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.”
