words about what might have happened, and then, rumor quickening, spurred on by the strange state of the sails, the level of the chatter rose. A midshipman Lenox hadn’t seen, quite old, told them to keep it down, but still it was only five minutes before everyone on deck understood, somehow, that it was Halifax who had been wounded. Leaning against the rail of the quarterdeck Lenox listened to theories fly; it was a duel, it was a fistfight, it was a pistol shot from a French ship. He was pleased in a glum way to hear the men speak affectionately of the dead lieutenant.
At last Martin came back on deck.
“Apologies,” he said. “I was having a word with Billings. We’re going to have all the men on deck in the forenoon and identify whatever fiend did this to Halifax. Unless you object?”
“No. In fact I think it’s wise—such social pressure often brings someone feeling guilt to confess. Though I wonder whether someone capable of this sort of murder feels much compunction.”
“What are your initial impressions of the matter, Mr. Lenox? I don’t know how long we can sail with this over our heads. The men already know.”
“I heard.”
“Well?” said Martin. “Give me some good news, would you?”
“I haven’t drawn any conclusions, unfortunately. There are clues however.”
“Yes?”
“Firstly, let us discuss how the body might have reached the quarterdeck. There are three ways that I can see.”
“What are they?”
“First, that the murder was carried out there.”
“Unlikely,” said Martin.
“Why?”
“Noise, for a start. Everyone would have heard an argument or, more likely still, a fight.”
“True. And even if he had been taken by surprise, Halifax would have shouted before the knife struck him, I imagine—the stabbing came from the front, not from behind. Would the quarterdeck have been empty?”
“For short periods, but even in the dead of night someone or other is generally there every few minutes, one of the midshipmen or lieutenants on duty who circulates through the ship.”
“Just as I thought—after all, the body was discovered almost instantly. We’ll count that as possible, but not probable.”
“Yes,” said Martin. Because of his premature gray hair it was easy to mark him as old or weary, but there had been a steeliness in him all night that showed why he had a ship full of sailors who had chosen to stay on with him. He was responsible, resourceful, energetic: a good captain.
“The second option is that someone killed him below deck and brought him up. It would have been insanely chancy, of course. And then, where to kill him? I suppose an officer’s cabin—perhaps even Halifax’s cabin, which I would like to inspect soon—but I doubt that too.”
“What is the third option?”
Lenox sighed and looked up among the masts. “Was there a crack—a splinter—in one of the boards on the quarterdeck, before we left Plymouth?”
“Certainly not.”
“Are there men aloft—among the riggings and those platforms I see at intervals going up each mast—during the middle watch?”
“Rarely. At war or near land perhaps someone in the crow’s nest. But visibility is nil.”
“And might a man go up there at that time without being seen?”
“Very easily. But can you mean—”
“Yes. I think Halifax was lured up this back mast—”
“That one, Mr. Lenox? From fore to aft the three masts are called the foremast, the mainmast, and the mizzenmast. You are pointing in the direction of the mizzenmast.”
“That platform halfway up—you see it?”
“Yes.”
“I would bet any fellow in Piccadilly that Halifax met his killer there, under some pretense, and died there too.”
“Their voices would have carried, surely.”
“Not if the murderer stressed the need for secrecy and quiet. A knife can appear very quickly in someone’s hand, and the stabbing may have been so violent because the murderer wanted to silence Halifax immediately. Hence the contrast with the later cuts…”
“But you mean to say, then, Mr. Lenox, that in this hypothetical scenario a man carried Halifax, a large gentleman, halfway down the mizzenmast and onto the quarterdeck, without being spied?”
“No. I think he was murdered there, and then tossed down onto the quarterdeck. It would be a straight fall down, and from there the murderer could have done his work deliberately and thrown the body down when he saw, from above, that those on deck weren’t looking. The weight of Halifax’s body falling from such a height cracked a board beneath his body.”
“Jesus. Like a sack of flour.”
“That’s the loud thump Carrow reported, I daresay, which compelled him to go down to the quarterdeck in the first place.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
If nothing else, Martin was decisive. He ran straight up to the quarterdeck to look at the crack in the board that had been underneath Halifax’s body.
“You,” he called out to the midshipman who was sitting on the rail, looking out at the water, “go and fetch me Mr. Carrow and Midshipman Lenox. They were the only two officers on duty during the middle watch, I believe?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then go. I see you hesitating—yes, you have permission to wake Carrow up. Lenox it goes without saying.”
The boy ran off downstairs.
Martin went over to the plank—the whole deck was now innocent of blood, though Halifax’s body had lain there scarcely an hour before—and looked at the crack.
“New?” Lenox asked.
“Unquestionably. You need only look at the wood.”
“Quite so.”
Martin stood up. “Where is that blasted Carrow?” he said, though there had barely been time for the midshipman to get below deck. “Well—no matter—up we go, Mr. Lenox.”
“Both of us?”
“It’s no climb at all—thirty feet—children do it. Old Joe Coffey goes to the crow’s nest for his cup of grog every evening, and he must be seventy.”
Lenox was in fair physical condition—he often took his scull out on the Thames to row—but suddenly doubted whether he could make it up the taut, unyielding rigging without falling and smacking his head. On land it would have been a simple task, but the pitch and roll of the ship made everything unsteady.
Still, the tale of Old Joe Coffey (whom Lenox suddenly rather despised as a show-off) goaded him on. “You first, then,” he said.
“Remember you’re on my ship, Mr. Lenox.” A hint of a smile came into Martin’s face. “You mustn’t give me orders.”
“Of course. Shall I go first?”
“No, no.” He paused. “I’ve just thought—it’s a damn good sight I’ve left the sails slack—otherwise the platform would have been trampled on no end as the men set sail, and the whole area might have been contaminated.”
