FOR THE hundredth time, Captain McRafferty looked at the brass clock on the saloon bulkhead and then went along the alleyway to the door that gave access to the waist. The ship had now been moved to the loading berth and Bullock was supervising the removal of the cover from the after hatch in preparation to take the part cargo for Sydney. McRafferty said, “I’m anxious about Halfhyde, Mr Bullock.”
The First Mate wiped a hand across his ginger moustache. “Likely he’s jumped ship. Found the life too hard for his lily-white hands.” He paused, staring at McRafferty. “Better not to have let him go ashore.”
“Possibly. But I doubt if he’s deserted. I fear some harm may have come to him.”
Bullock grinned. “Iquique’s a funny place for the unwary, Captain, as we all know well enough.” He looked away from McRafferty, shading his eyes along the loading quay. “A lazy place, too. There’s no sign of our cargo—it should have been ready for us.”
“And the man Jesson, Mr Bullock—my passenger?”
Bullock said, “All arrangements made. I told you, he’ll come aboard after dark.” He sounded impatient. “There’ll be no trouble, not this end of the run, anyway.”
McRafferty nodded and walked away, hands behind his back. His chief worry with regard to his passenger was the Australian arrival. So far the First Mate had been unwilling to discuss this, insisting that all would be well and there was no need for any anxiety. Difficulties would be overcome, but Bullock refused to commit the passenger in advance: Jesson would have made his own arrangements for his reception and they, the shippers, would have to comply with his requirements. McRafferty went aft to the saloon and found Goss pushing a duster around the mahogany furnishings.
“Whisky, Goss,” he said.
“Aye, aye, sir.” Goss brought out the bottle of Dunville’s and a glass. McRafferty took a large one, thoughtfully, his hand shaking a little. He was liking the prospect of his passenger less and less and was more and more resentful of his First Mate’s manner, but now he was deeply committed and no less in need of the passage money than before; and he would be very relieved when Halfhyde returned aboard. McRafferty felt more than ever that the presence of Her Majesty’s commission at his side would be a comfort.
THE CARGO was sent aboard in the early evening, and after that the hands were put to work again, cleaning down and seeing all shipshape for the long haul across the Pacific for their Australian landfall off Sydney Heads. They turned to with many grumbles; the Old Man was a bastard, not allowing them any shore leave. They had been both sober and continent for too long, longer than it was reasonable to expect any man to be. The mutters reached the afterguard, but McRafferty disregarded them; the hands must put up with it, and Bullock went for’ard to tell them so in no uncertain terms. If they didn’t shut their gobs and pull their weight, there would be a few heads sore from the First Mate’s fist. They worked a little harder thereafter, but the grumbles continued in lower tones. As the day darkened towards dusk they were sent below, only the night watchman remaining on deck. It was Finney who took the first trick, and there was a stir of interest when he went below on being relieved from his watch and reported the embarkation of a passenger.
“A toff,” he said. “A real toff, frock coat an’ all, an’ fancy boots. Name o’ Jesson. Came in a cab an’ paid it off in gold.” Finney sucked at his teeth. “Bleedin’ mass o’ gear I ’ad to hump aboard, too! Reckon the Old Man, ’e’s goin’ to do well on the passage money.”
Below the poop, Mr Jesson was settling into the spare cabin, attended by Goss. He spoke little, stood waiting ostentatiously for Goss to leave, and Goss took the hint. There was something about the passenger that had a scaring effect on the steward, as if at any moment Mr Jesson, like a mad dog, might bite. When he was alone in the cabin, Jesson, scarcely able to move for the amount of gear that stood around him in his heavy leather cases, reached into the capacious pocket of an ulster that he had carried aboard himself over his arm and brought out a revolver. This he put into a drawer beneath the bunk. Locking the drawer, he removed the key and slipped it into a pocket of his frock coat, glanced at his reflection in the mirror above the wash-hand basin, and stepped out into the alleyway.
He met Bullock.
Bullock asked, “Is everything all right, then?”
He got a cold look. “Yes. At what time do we make sail?”
Bullock pulled out his watch. “We’ll be away in a shade over an hour.”
“Good. I don’t want any delay. Now I wish to speak to the Master.”
Bullock indicated the saloon. “He’s in there. With his daughter.” He saw the gleam that came into the passenger’s eye. “A word of warning. The Old Man watches that girl like a hawk. He’ll crack down hard on any hanky-panky.”
“When I want your advice, Bullock, I’ll ask for it,” Jesson said loudly and turned for’ard towards the saloon. Bullock flushed, took a step towards him, then
