This time it was Bowyer who waited silently.
“Right, then – I will. There’s no sleep fer anyone until I do. I’m goin’ to take him in charge, suspicion o’ murther!”
“Don’t like this, mates!” Doud said, after Scully had left the deck. “Don’t like it a-tall. Not right, takin’ a ship from the Cap’n like that.”
“What else can he do?” Bowyer replied. “He’s right – none of us is goin’ to get much sleep until he’s in bilboes or somethin’.”
Kydd felt uneasy. “What I don’t get is how Kelsey sent Mr. Warren over th’ side without our hearin’ it.”
Doud answered in a low voice. “What I reckon, Tom, is that ’e thwacked Mr. Warren on the noggin from behind, ’n’ launched ’im out o’ the stern windows, like.”
“It’s over now, lads,” said Bowyer, “and ’ere’s Mr. Scully.”
Scully returned, with a satisfied look. “Right we are, mateys. ’E’s lashed to a chair in ’is cabin and’ll give us no more grief.” He stood astride and folded his arms. “We owes you a lot, you boys. Least we can do for yer is to stand yer watches. You get yer heads down and leave ’er to us.”
Bowyer cocked his head. “Shouldn’t we be comin’ up with
Scully seemed evasive. “Well – yeah, we’re gettin’ to the rendezvous position, but don’t forget, it’s fer noon, so we has to stand off ’n’ on until she comes up. Anyways, you’re all free o’ work – ye’re passengers.”
It seemed natural to go forward to the fo’c’sle, where they arranged themselves to avoid the occasional spray bursts over the bow and took advantage of the tentative warmth of the morning sun. The sea was sparkling now, cheerful and exuberant, a royal blue in place of the previous gray, and with the seas coming from astern it was a comfortable lift, a heartbeat’s pause and then a gentle curtsy down.
Wong drew out his scrimshaw and began plying the blade. It was turning out to be a lissome naked Oriental girl, lying full length and seductively propped up on her elbow. Doud lay down and closed his eyes, while Bowyer took a length of line and began to instruct Kydd on the more arcane bends and hitches.
The morning wore on. It felt odd to have no duties but, then, it seemed neither did the crew, who appeared to be taking it easy aft with Scully.
“Wonder who they think is goin’ to set this hooker to rights for ’em?” Bowyer mused. “Won’t be
Kydd finished a carrick bend with his eyes obediently closed. In the dark of night there would be no convenient lights nearby. “That right, Joe?” he asked.
“She’s right, Tom. It’ll do fer now, mate.”
Stretching, Kydd turned to Bowyer. “Joe, we’ve got the Captain under key in his cabin, but even a poxy thief gets a chance to say his piece. What say we hear him out?”
Bowyer looked down. “Yes, mate, it sits a bit awkward with me as well. Why don’t you nip below ’n’ see what the bugger ’as to say for ’imself?”
Down the single companionway Kydd turned aft to enter the stern cabin.
“Yes, mate?”
It was Yates the deckhand, getting to his feet outside the door to the cabin. It was obvious he had been placed there.
Kydd was reluctant to tell Yates his reasons. “Mr. Scully here?” he asked.
“Er, yer might say yes. ’E’s sleepin’ in ’is cabin right now.” Kydd hesitated. “But ’e won’t thank ye for interruptin’-he’s put away two bottles this forenoon.”
“Thanks, mate, it can wait.” Kydd clattered back up the ladder and hurried back to Bowyer.
“Seems to me they did the right thing to guard ’im, ’e bein’ a murderer an’ all,” Bowyer said.
Kydd stood his ground. “I want t’ hear Kelsey without there’s anyone else about,” he said.
Bowyer smiled. “An’ how are you goin’ to do that? Gettin’ past Yates, I mean.”
“You sway me down on a line over the transom an’ I get in through th’ stern windows,” Kydd said promptly.
The smile disappeared. “That’s a risky business, cuffin. Is ’e worth it?”
“Let’s go,” Kydd said impatiently. They strolled to the poop as if on a pleasant walk. Only the man at the helm was on deck and he was facing forward.
Bowyer found a topping lift fall and used the end with a bowline as a stirrup to lower Kydd over the low sternwork. It was easy. One window was already open, and as he swung over he hooked his feet inside and Bowyer lowered him in.
The master was sitting lashed in his chair, gagged and with his chin on his chest. He looked up in astonishment as Kydd approached and loosened the rag. “Rogues!” he shouted. “Damned scurvy rascals!”
Kydd clamped a hand over Kelsey’s mouth but it was too late. A rattling of keys in the lock showed Yates was investigating.
“Er – into the side locker!” Kelsey said urgently, nodding toward the long built-in seat at the side of the cabin.
Kydd opened it and tumbled in, remembering to lower the lid quietly. It was stuffy and damp in the locker, odorous with the musty stink of age-old tarpaulins.
“Yes, I’m talking about you, Yates!” Kydd could hear Kelsey plainly. “Take my ship away from me like this – I know your lay, Yates, you and Scully both.”
A meaty smack sounded. “Clap a stopper on it, old man. You don’t give no orders any more.”
“You’ll regret this!”
“Save yer breath, cully, yer’ll need it later. ’Ere, this’ll stop yer yattering!”
There was no sound for a short while and then the door slammed. Kydd waited for a little while, then climbed out. Once more he loosened the cloth gag. Bending close, he said quietly, “Is it right the ship’s goin’ to be done away with for th’ insurance?”
Kelsey started, and stared at Kydd. “Not by me!” he said bitterly. “Open that drawer – you’ll see a letter from my wife in Lisbon expecting to meet me there.”
Kydd found the letter, which confirmed Kelsey’s story. “Is it true that you’re the only one touchin’ the ship’s papers?” Kydd asked him.
“Yes, that’s right enough. But you should know that in the merchant service it’s the mate that’s responsible for stowing the hold. He can stow what he likes there and nobody would be the wiser. And about Mr. Warren – I’m sorry to hear of it, and all I can say is it wasn’t me did for him, but you’ll admit I’d be damn foolish to risk you men on my neck if I’d already made up my mind to scuttle.”
Kydd nodded. At the window he signaled to Bowyer to lower the line, and stepped in the bowline stirrup. It was only a short distance up the transom and he quickly clambered back on to the poop.
At that moment Scully emerged from the companionway. “What in hell?” he shouted. Striding over, he confronted them.
“You’ve been talkin’ with Kelsey! You’re in it with him!”
Bowyer looked at Kydd, who said, “Yes, cully, I’ve been talkin’ – and got quite a different yarn to yours.”
Bowyer stared and Doud stood up. “What do yer mean, mate?” he asked.
“I saw a letter proves he meant to make Lisbon – and it’s always the mate who stows the hold.”
Scully bit his lip. “Yates!” he bawled. “Get the others and get up here!” He pulled a small pistol from his pocket and cocked it with his left hand. “Don’t any of yer move!”
Doud edged away to the shrouds as though in fear of the pistol while Bowyer still held Kydd’s bowline and stared into Scully’s eyes.
Kydd knew what he must do. “Bilge rat!” he yelled, and launched himself at Scully. The pistol swept round but Bowyer whipped his rope back, pulling Scully into its bight and off balance. Simultaneously Wong leaped forward and head-butted Scully, who went down with a gasp, the pistol discharging harmlessly over the sea.
It was no contest. Wong quickly pinioned Scully, who flopped helpless in his grasp.
“Joe!” warned Kydd. Up the companionway had come Yates and others, who took the situation in with a glance.
Yates produced a knife – not a seaman’s blade but a short curved weapon. The other men closed about him and it was plain that no quarter would be shown or asked. Other knives appeared.
The Navy men fell back while Yates moved forward, stopping at the mainmast bitts with its maze of ropes
