Death in the West Wind (10 page)

Haycraft, the constable.

“So sorry to disturb you at your rest, Sir, but I was wondering if you would be able to come with me down to the beach.”

“Why, what’s happened?” asked John, trying to bring his thoughts into some semblance of order.

“A man’s been found in the shallows, pretty far gone but still alive. I wondered if you might be prepared to tend him.”

“Where does he come from, do you know?”

“Certainly not an English ship, he’s speaking a foreign tongue.”

“Give me a minute to get dressed and I’ll join you.”

“What is it?” said Emilia.

“A man’s been washed ashore in dire straits. The constable has asked me to help.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“No, darling, I don’t. It’s going to be unpleasant, I’m sure of it. Stay here and keep my place warm.”

She was clearly in no mood to argue for she snuggled back down into the pillows. Pulling on travelling breeches and a shirt, John grabbed his medicine bag and followed the constable down the stairs, thinking his must be one of the most eventful honeymoons a man had ever experienced.

The fishermen were on the beach and the

Apothecary realised that it must be time for the fleet to set out. The man they had found, for presumably that was how he had been discovered, had been carried inshore and covered with a pile of old sails and nets to keep him warm. Further, some goodhearted soul had lit a fire out of driftwood to give the poor devil a chance to recover. He was terribly weak, though, thought John, feeling his feeble pulse and looking at all the outward signs of cold and exposure. In fact if it hadn’t been for the unseasonably warm weather the wretched fellow would probably be dead. Reaching in his bag he fetched out a decoction of agrimony made with wine, a general cure-all for internal wounds, bruises and hurts. This he followed with a dose of white poppy juice to ease the man into a peaceful sleep and relieve any pain he might be suffering. He turned to the constable.

“We must get him inside if he is to have a chance of survival. Can The Anchor take him?”

“They will if I order it. There is still some respect for the law round here.”

“Can you fetch a table top or similar. We’ll need it to carry him on.”

“I’ll find something and I’ll be as quick as I can.” And William set off at speed.

Left alone, John stared at the man brought in from the sea, thinking that he was probably no more than forty years old and certainly not English. Dark hair and a swarthy skin, clearly visible in the moonlight, spoke of different origins.

John had a brainwave. Very gently, close to the man’s ear, he said the word, Constantia? There was a reaction, for the eyelids flickered and then slowly opened. The Apothecary repeated himself and there was a barely perceptible nod of the head.

So this was a member of the disappearing crew. “Do you speak English?” John asked slowly.

“A little,” the man gasped, then came a drift towards sleep.

“What happened? Tell me?” begged the Apothecary desperately.

The man opened his eyes and gave him a look that John would never forget. “Angels come,” he said, and then quite quietly and with not another word, he died.

6

D
espite the earlier fatigue he had suffered, the Apothecary realised there would be precious little sleep for him that night. Between them, he and William had carried the dead sailor back to The Ship where they had placed the body in an outbuilding and firmly locked the door. Then they had gone to sit on the settle by the fire which Matthew Salter, anxiously hovering and wanting to be part of all that was taking place, had thoughtfully stoked up.

The Apothecary and the constable eyed each other over a glass of brandy.

“What do you make of it all, Mr. Rawlings?”

“I truly don’t know. But before we discuss it let me tell you everything that happened in Exeter today. To begin with, the dead girl’s brother has gone missing. Secondly, quite by chance, I located her father and his grief was terrible to see. Or so it appeared.”

“Are you saying it was an act?”

“I’m saying that it could have been.”

“Go on. Tell me the rest.”

John did so and the constable looked thoughtful. “Is the young man’s absence connected to all this?”

“Yes, I think it is. I saw them both get the very early coach from Topsham on Monday morning. The girl was going to Exeter to tell her lover she was pregnant, that is according to her father who is guessing just as we are. Richard was obviously in league with his sister. I have ascertained that she had a large bag with her, just as if she were running away. Her brother must have realised what she was up to and been assisting her.”

William took a mouthful of brandy that would have downed a lesser man.

“More than that, he probably helped her plan it.”

“Does this suggest to you that he knew who the lover was?”

“Yes, Mr. Rawlings … “

“John, please.”

“Yes, John, it does. But the question remains, why did he vanish?”

“Fearing his father’s wrath when the plot was discovered?”

William nodded thoughtfully. “A very good point. And now he’s too frightened to emerge.”

“You think he’s heard about his sister’s death?”

“When I drove that cart into Exeter, even though I’d put a tarpaulin over the coffin,there were those who saw it arrive at the mortuary. And there were those who noticed me go to the coroner’s office to report the death. Believe me, the fact of poor Juliana’s demise would have been common knowledge throughout the city by nightfall.”

“But not the gruesome details, surely?” William shook his head. “Not all, but I wouldn’t put it past a loose-mouthed mortuary attendant to describe the injuries of a Topsham merchant’s daughter to a crony in a hostelry. That would be enough to inform the world and his wife.”

“And what about our present corpse? Will you take him to Exeter as well?”

“There’s a mortuary in Topsham so that’s where he’ll go, then he can lie with the other seafarers.” William gave a humourless laugh. “His ship has gone back to harbour as well.”

“What do you mean?”

“The
Constantia
was towed to Topsham yesterday. Apparently that’s where she and her cargo of hemp were originally bound.”

“Will the cargo be unloaded?”

“Most certainly. Whoever bought it will insist that it won’t go to waste.”

“William,” said John urgently, “have you enough authority to stop that happening until the Flying Runners get here?”

“I don’t know that I have. Why?”

 
“I would like that ship searched by experts from prow to stern before a horde of people start clambering all over it.”

Poor William, who was clearly wrestling with the most difficult challenge of his year in office, said, “I can only try, John. Maybe if we both had a word with the quay master it might do some good.”

“Why should he listen to me?”

“Because you have that way with you.”

John smiled in the firelight but said nothing and there were a few minutes of companionable silence before the constable spoke again.

“What do you think the dying man meant by his last words?”

“Angels come? I have no idea.”

“Do you think that he was so near death he had glimpsed the heavenly host?”

John, who was something of a cynic, looked at William and saw that he was utterly sincere. “It’s possible, I suppose.”

But though it could be argued the dying sailor was in a death dream, it seemed to the Apothecary that something entirely different might well lie behind those inexplicable words.At dawn he walked on the beach to clear his head. The tide was right out and a great swathe of sand glistened rose pink beneath the first shafts of sun. On either side reared the mighty cliffs, the red one an unbelievable shade in that pure clear light, the other stretching its long arm into the sea to hold and protect the bay of Sidmouth against all ills. Yet ill had come, John thought, brought in by that deserted ship whose crew, with the exception of one man, had vanished off the face of the earth, or should it be the sea? What had he meant by “Angels come”? John wondered for the hundredth time. Was it possible that the crew of the
Constantia
had suffered some kind of breakdown and believed they were seeing things that were not really there? Or was there a rational explanation to the whole enigma? Yet, crazed crew or no, there was one inescapable fact. The body of Juliana van Guylder had been placed aboard their ship, almost certainly by her killers, so what had taken place that could allow honest sailors to witness such a terrible event? Or had they already gone overboard, called into the deep by a chorus of angelic voices?

*
 
*
 
*

By the time he got back to The Ship the day was already warm and John thought that he would like nothing better than to spend his time relaxing on the beach. But not only had he promised William Haycraft that he would speak to the quay master at Topsham but there was also the matter of Tobias Wills. For by now the wretched young man must surely have heard of his fiancee’s murder and be in a state of despair. Further, the Apothecary thought wryly, he might be sufficiently upset to want to discuss a rival, that is if he had known such a being existed. But whichever way he looked at it, John’s honeymoon seemed destined for yet another interruption. Worried that Emilia would get tired of the situation and demand his full-time company, the Apothecary mounted the stairs to their bedroom.

She was awake but not yet out of bed, as pretty as a picture with her ripe corn hair spread over the pillow and her blue eyes bright as the sea.

“You look lovely,” said her bridegroom.

She stretched out a hand to him, smiling lazily. “Have you sorted everything out?”

“Not really. The poor man died, too far gone for me to save him.”

“Where had he come from, do you know?”

“I mentioned the name of the deserted ship and he nodded.” John sighed and put on his most pleasing expression. “Emilia, it is very important that the cargo of the
Constantia
is not unloaded until the Runners get here. So the constable has asked me to go with him to see the quay master — today.”

His bride sighed, very noisily indeed. “I thought this was meant to be a time that we spent together, getting to know one another. At this rate I stand as good a chance of getting to know William Haycraft as I do you.”

John was silent for a moment, considering the best way to handle the situation. If he took a chance and offered to give the investigation up, Emilia might easily accept. By the same token he wanted her to enjoy herself and remember the marriage month with pleasure. Being a husband was not easy, he thought. With a sigh, John said, “Sweetheart, I have been working with Mr. Fielding for some years now, indeed that is how you and I met. If I promise to hand over to the Runners when they arrive, will you let me assist the constable in the meantime? He is a good man and true but he hasn’t the experience of cases of violent death that I have/

“Put like that you make me sound a regular scold. Will I let you indeed! John, I can’t stop you doing anything you want to do.”

“But if you don’t like me doing it then all the pleasure’s gone for me.”

He was utterly sincere. To upset this woman who had given her pledge to him was not what he wanted at all. Yet, conversely, he was so intrigued by the case of the deserted ship and the dead girl that he longed to see it through to its finish.

Emilia put out her hand again. “Do you mean that?”

John took it and held it to his heart. “Of course I do. Tracking down villains has been a large part of my life for some years now. But if you truly wanted me to give up, I would do so.”

“But how could I ask such a thing?”

“Very easily if you had a mind.”

A memory of Coralie Clive putting herself in danger in order to assist him came back, and John frowned without realising he had done so. Emilia, who was very far from stupid, looked at him shrewdly.

“Would it help if I befriended the ladies involved? Not that there are any mark you.” John, realising that she was probably obeying her mama’s instructions and behaving sensibly and with reason, drew her close to him. “Would you do that? For me?”

She gave him that pert smile which he liked so much. “No, actually I would be doing it for Mr. Fielding. Now I’m going to get dressed. I presume we are on our way to Topsham?”

“I think we should be on our way in every sense and return to The Salutation. With the
Constantia
docked there and the body of the sailor going to Topsham mortuary, it seems to me that is where the investigation will be currently centred. Besides that was the address I gave the Runners and they should be arriving any day now.”

Emilia got out of bed, allowing her shift to fall to the floor as she did so.

“Will you assist me with my stays? The chambermaid has no idea how to get them truly tight.”

“I would rather assist you to take them off.”

“That would be difficult as I am not wearing any.”