The Blighted Cliffs (22 page)

'Samuel?'

Isobel
recognized him first under the dirt-streaked face, but I knew him
well enough too. It was Sir Lawrence Cunningham's servant.

'I
didn't mean nothing by it, Miss Isobel,' he pleaded. 'I didn't know
you was going to be there, until you was there. I wasn't out to spy
on you.

I
snorted, for it was not so very long since I had been his age, and I
knew fill well what I, and any boy of my acquaintance, would have
done if granted such a spectacle. But Isobel was talking gently to
him, with the indulgent tone of a mother, though I saw with a shock
that she was nearer in age to being his sister.

'It's
all right, Samuel, you weren't to know,' she said soothingly.

'Did
you come here to escape Mr Cunningham?'

Samuel
wiped an arm across his dripping nose. 'He's been in a terrible fury
with me since I took back Mr Jerrold's clothes.'

He
glared at me, wounded accusation filling his face, and though I was
not yet minded to pity him, I tried for a little conciliation.

'Do
you come here often, then, Samuel?' I fear it came out gruffer than I
could help.

'We
all did.' Isobel answered for him. 'When he raged, he'd sometimes go
into the servants' rooms looking for someone to beat, so we'd come
here to hide.'

A
thought sprang into my mind. 'So tell me, Samuel, was Sir Lawrence in
a bad mood five or six days ago?' I could hardly imagine he was ever
in a good mood.

Samuel
looked at his knees, avoiding my question.

'You
can tell Mr Jerrold,' said Isobel, crouching beside him and putting
an arm around his shoulders. 'He's a friend.'

Doubtless
Samuel had seen enough to guess that, but my curiosity was overcoming
my frustration.

'I
apologize if I have caused you unwonted trouble, Samuel. But if you
saw anything suspicious or unusual six days back, I must know.' Still
he did not look at me. 'If you can help me, it may even serve as a
kick in the belly for Sir Lawrence.'

Samuel
sniffed loudly, and I offered him my handkerchief. 'There was three
of them,' he said quietly.

'When
did you see them?' I tried to keep my tone gentle.

'Saturday.
Sir Lawrence was having lunch with the banker, and once I'd served
out the food he let me go. I come down here.'

'And
you saw them?'

'Smelled
them first. They had a fire going and it was smoking, being so wet. I
crawled up on them.'

'And
you saw them?' I prompted again.

'Only
through the branches. Can't see hardly nothing through the branches,'
he added, glancing at Isobel and blushing hard.

'I'm
sure you couldn't. But you saw something?'

'Yes.
All in black, they was, one of them with a black beard. He had dark
skin, too - and another one. One of 'em was fat, and the other tall,
like you. And they talked funny.'

'Funny?'

'Foreign.'

'Could
it have been French?' If the smugglers were bound up in this, then
surely their associates would likely be French.

'Don't
know, sir - never been to France. But the third one was English.'

'How
could you tell that?'

'Cos
he was Mr Webb.'

'Webb!'
The boy's tale had set me stewing with anticipation, but his latest
words transfixed me utterly. 'Webb was here, last Saturday? How did
you know him?'

Samuel
trembled silently, and I saw that my voice, sharpened by a keen hope,
had brought him to the edge of tears.

'He'd
come to dinner sometimes with Sir Lawrence. I seen him once or twice,
that's all.'

'Not
to worry, Sam,' said Isobel. She stroked his arm. 'It wasn't your
fault you came on them.'

Though
I was grateful for Isobel's calming influence, I could not help but
plunge on with my questioning. 'And did you hear the others' names?'
Never had I felt so close to the answer.

But
Samuel was looking unhappy. 'I don't know, sir. They all spoke
foreign, and names and words and all, they all sounds the same
foreign.'

Slightly
to my embarrassment, I found that I was pacing a line back and forth
across the clearing, like some martinet. I stopped, and thrust my
hands into my pockets.

'And
after they'd finished talking, what did they do then?'

Samuel
dropped his eyes. 'The two of them, the foreign ones, they left. Mr
Webb stayed here.'

'The
two foreign ones left.' Already in my thoughts they were confidently
named Laminak and Vitos, but I did not want to confuse the boy
further. 'What did Mr Webb do then?'

'Don't
know. The others'd walked too close to my hiding and frighted me, so
as soon as they was gone I snucked off.' He sniffed again. 'It were
terrible, sir. If they knowed I'd seen them they'd have killed me,
and if Sir Lawrence knowed I'd seen them then he'd have killed me.
Hates the smugglers, he does.'

'What
makes you think they were smugglers?'

'Who
else'd they be? Had a big bundle stashed in the trees over there, and
they looked like they didn't want it found.'

'And
did you come back later to see if they were still here?'

But
Samuel merely shook his head and hunched himself over, avoiding my
gaze.

'We'd
better get you back to the house,' said Isobel gently, rising to her
feet and pulling him after her.

I
was reluctant to let him go, for here at last was the one person
who'd witnessed something significant and was prepared to tell of it,
and I wanted to be sure I had got everything I could from him. But he
looked in no mood to talk further, and I knew where to find him if he
was needed again.

The
last hints of sunlight were playing over the western sky as we
emerged from the woods, and looking over my shoulder I could see the
hemisphere of the moon climbing into the night. Isobel had Samuel by
the hand, and we walked him to the edge of the Cunninghams' property.
Orange light spilled onto the lawn.

Isobel
took my arm as Samuel vanished around the side of the house. 'He saw
the dead man, didn't he?'

'A
brace of them, I should think. Webb, of course, and I believe Vitos,
the man at the foot of the cliff, was one of the foreigners.'

All
the way there my mind had been puzzling at the mystery, trying to fit
Samuel's story into what I knew already. Webb had vanished for six
months, only to turn up encamped in the woods with a pair of foreign
smugglers. A few days later, two of the trio were dead.

'I'd
dearly love to find this Mr Laminak,' I reflected aloud, 'and hear
what tale he's got to tell.' I considered this. 'If, of course, he's
had better luck than his companions.'

I
left Isobel at the laundry; despite my pleas, she refused to go back
to the inn with me.

'The
girls might forgive me shirking a day, but if they thought I was out
all night with a man they'd have a galloper off to Canterbury in a
second. Some things can't be forgiven. And besides, it'll save you
paying the boy there for our sinning.'

'That's
not what I meant,' I objected, and it was true: although I'd happily
have returned to the unfinished business of the afternoon, I'd have
been as comfortable simply enjoying her company.

'How
shall I see you next, then?' I asked, somewhat peevishly. She reached
into my pocket and pulled out my handkerchief. 'I'll get this washed
for you, and send it back to the inn with a note.'

That
seemed unnecessarily sly, but if it saved me another encounter with
Miss Hoare, or the jealous attentions of Isobel’s colleagues,
then I could accept it.

'Goodbye,
then,' she said, and lifting herself onto her toes she placed a soft
kiss on my cheek. 'And thank you for the day. It was... unusual.'

I
stooped to kiss her lips, but to my frustration she turned her head
so that I caught her somewhere near the ear.

'Not
here, Mr Jerrold,' she said primly. 'It would be improper.'

And
before I could damn her impudence, she had slipped off my arm and
through the door. I heard the bolt shoot home after her.

My
thwarted desire for Isobel and my confused attempts to make sense of
what I had learned that day meant the short journey back to the inn
passed in something of a daze, and it was as well that Stubb and
Cunningham were not abroad or I should have walked straight into
them. But I was not so lost in my thoughts that I missed the bulky
figure in the shadows of the stable yard as I passed through the
gate. I tensed, and for a wild moment wondered if it was the
mysterious Mr Laminak.

'There's
some luck, sir - I was about to be on my way. Cap'n Crawley said to
give you fifteen minutes, and they was just comin' tip.

Ducker
stepped into the lamplight.

'What's
this?' I asked. 'I thought Crawley wouldn't send for me unless he
needed me.'

Ducker
flashed a grin. 'An' so 'e does, sir. Leastways, 'e said 'e'd take
you if 'e could get you.' He escaped with the impertinence by
attributing it to Crawley. '
Lancelot
's
signalled. There's two sail been seen off the Froggy coast, an' they
want us to come an' help corner 'em .' He paused. 'You might be
wantin' to bring your sword this time, sir.'

9

WITH
NIGHT UPON US AS WE ROWED OUT OF THE HARBOUR, THE boat's oars were
loud in the water. A few cables ahead I could see
Orestes
,
her lines silhouetted against the half-moon that shone behind.
Although a soft breeze blew us on, everything seemed unnaturally
still, frozen in the biting air. I huddled deeper inside my boat
cloak.

'I
thought you were meant to have returned to
Orestes
last night.'

Ducker's
presence on land had made me instantly suspicious, for I had no
illusions as to the extent to which Crawley trusted me.

'Coroner
weren't too 'appy 'bout being' sent another body,' Ducker explained,
easing off on the boat's tiller. Clearly the coroner should have
discovered the duties of his office before acceding to it. 'Kicked up
a fuss, an' kept us there all night. Then 'e wouldn't let us go today
until the cap'n come in to clear it up.'