“That’s not right,” the cautious one protested. “We’re the ones was nearly drowned, we’re the ones deserve any reward.”
Gideon got to his feet. “You’d better be quick, then,” he said unsympathetically, “because I’m going right now, and by the time anyone’s to say I wasn’t aboard her, I’ll be long gone. You poor sods, you don’t know a good thing when you see it.”
He left them talking earnestly together and went on to the next saloon.
The following morning when the court of inquiry convened, Fine and Poulson and Gideon were all three absent. Pendrake appeared to be perusing some papers but in reality was wondering desperately what he was going to do once he had taken that pathetic little cook’s helper through his thin testimony. There were two passengers, true, but they were more character references for Hand than actual witnesses. He sighed and shuffled the papers about importantly while worriedly watched by his assistant, Anson. Why in hell had he allowed himself to be put in this ludicrous position? He was so preoccupied that at first he hardly noticed the loud buzz of conversation that blew across the courtroom like a boisterous wind. He looked up finally to see almost upon him a strongly built man of medium height, his tawny hair slicked back and a livid stitched cut across his forehead. He put out his hand to the puzzled Pendrake.
“They tell me you are defending the Blue Hand Company, Mr. Pendrake, and I’m very grateful. I am Christian Hand.”
“Good God, Hand, where have you been? We all thought you were dead. I hope your story will work a miracle — we need it. To be blunt, things have not been going in our favor, I’ll tell you. Have you seen Mr. Fine and Captain Poulson, by the way? They should have been here long since.”
“No, I was expecting to find them here. I only got into town late last night, and I thought to meet them at the inquiry.
“Well, no matter … I’m going to begin with you, now that you’re here. There are a great number of people anxious to hear what you have to say. Including me,” the lawyer added with a wintry smile.
Not five minutes later Sir Howard called the court to order and Christian found himself in the witness box.
“So your story is that far from attempting to save yourself, you were in reality trying to save the passengers?” Russell Long’s voice was disbelieving.
“Yes, Mr. Long, that is my story. Tell me, how many passengers were saved on the rescue lines?”
“In the neighborhood of a hundred, a hundred and fifty, I believe.”
“Do you really think that a hundred people could have gotten into that whaleboat? And having gotten in, how many of them do you think would have survived the inevitable capsizing in the surf?”
“Inevitable, sir?”
“Of course inevitable,” Christian snapped. “This crew was made up of ordinary seamen, not fishermen or whalers, and that surf was twelve to fifteen feet high where it broke on the beach. Even whalers would have had a time not to have turned over in the breaking waves. As it was, I don’t know how many of the oarsmen were drowned in all, but I saw several washed up on the beach obviously dead. What do you think it would have been like with a boatload of women and children?”
Long hurriedly changed tacks. “We have heard that there was insufficient coal for the Circe to have reached even Halifax. What do you have to say about that?”
“Poppycock. We ran on the rocks on a clear night under full steam. Ask anyone.”
“We have, and we have heard testimony from both passengers and crew that the engines were silent when the ship ran aground.”
“Well, they weren’t. I was awake and I can tell you. What’s more, you must know that the final death blow to the ship was an explosion — her boilers exploded when the cold seawater got to them. Would you like to tell me how there could have been an explosion if the boilers were cold, as they would have been if we were out of coal?”
“How curious that every other witness has disagreed. Perhaps the captain started the engines to try to get the ship off the rocks. We have heard actual evidence that the chief engineer told the captain the ship was too short of fuel to put in to New York, and possibly too short even for Halifax. We have heard further testimony that the Circe drifted helplessly onto the rocks of a lee shore.”
“But it wasn’t a lee shore!” Christian said, exasperated. “There was an offshore wind blowing, a stiff one at that. If we had been under sail, we’d have had a time even approaching the shore.”
“I was there by afternoon,” Long said stiffly, “and the wind was definitely onshore.”
“It changed then,” Christian answered shortly.
Long looked around him smugly, all but openly saying that Christian was obviously lying. “To what then, sir, do you attribute the sinking of the Circe?”
“Poor seamanship.”
“Indeed? Whose choice in that case was the captain, officers, and crew? It was my understanding that the shipping lines select the ship’s personnel.”
“Your understanding is wrong, sir. The shipping line hires the captain and the captain hires the crew.”
“That’s much the same thing, isn’t it?”
“No, Mr. Long, not the same thing at all. Many of the originally picked crew, including two of the officers, went sick or became unavailable not long before sailing. Captain Knight was therefore obliged to hire on replacements at very short notice.”
“But Captain Knight was your choice, was he not?”
“Yes, he was. I may as well say it now, because you’ll come to it soon enough anyway. There was a real problem with drunkenness among the crew and officers.”
“The captain, too?”
“No.”
“But the captain, who was your choice, was unable to control the men under him?”
“That is correct. However, he is — was — an experienced captain who never before was reported to have had problems with his crews. To tell you the truth, I don’t know why he had trouble this time. Believe me, I wish I did.”
“Then you feel it was incompetence exacerbated by drunkenness that put the Circe on the rocks?”
“I do.”
“Well, why in heaven’s name didn’t you take over the ship?”
“Mr. Long, apparently you don’t know how a ship is run. Even if the owner is aboard, the captain is in charge. In complete charge. If Captain Knight had been drunk, I might have stepped in, but I doubt I could have handled those men any better than he did. It was as if they were setting out deliberately to make trouble.”
“Are you telling me that the Circe was deliberately run on the rocks?” Long’s tone was unbelieving. There was an angry buzz in the room.
“No sir, I am not. What I am saying is that the circumstances leading up to the incompetence were deliberate. I have no way of knowing where Captain Knight found these men, but I am sure that he no more than I knew the source of a seemingly endless supply of liquor made available to the crew.”
“Several witnesses said that the good captain locked himself in his cabin for as long as a day or so at a time. Could he have been suffering a guilty conscience?”
Christian appeared startled for a moment. “Do you know, Mr. Long,” he said slowly, “you might just have put your finger right on it.”
“Mr. Hand, allow me to recapitulate all this, if you will, and tell me where I am incorrect. You are saying that you put ashore in the boat only for the purpose of rigging lifelines, that the Circe did not drift ashore but rather went on the rocks under steam as a result of a gross navigational error due to drunken incompetence on the part of the officer on the bridge. Have I got it right?”
“I am sorry to say, you have.” Christian was looking very pale and tired.
“Is there anyone you know of who can corroborate your story?”
“There must be others, but at the moment only Katharine Howard, my secretary.”
“Is she present at this hearing?”
“She is.”
Long looked at Sir Howard, who nodded.
“Sir Howard,” Aaron Fine began in explanation, “I beg leave to acquaint you …”
Katharine didn’t hear any more, for her attention was fastened on Christian, who had swung around as Fine began to speak. Christian and Gideon became aware of each other simultaneously, and over Gideon’s white face there spread such a look of fierce joy that Katharine caught her breath and stood. Then the two men were embraced in each other’s arms, with Poulson pounding them both on the back and Elisabeth Hand, who had followed the seamen into the room, laughing and crying beside them, a hand on Christian’s shoulder. The voices of the spectators created pandemonium as everyone realized what was happening, and Sir Howard cut off Fine’s explanations to pound his gavel loudly but unheard.
“My lord,” Aaron Fine managed finally, when the worst of the uproar was over, “I’m sorry we couldn’t have come into court this morning prepared, but our proofs took longer than we anticipated. If you will bear with us, however, I think we can shed some much-needed new light upon the tragic circumstances of the Circe’s demise.”
Sir Howard looked for a moment as if he might object, but then he shrugged slightly and nodded.
“First of all,” Aaron Fine began slowly, “one of the main contentions of the opposition was that the ship was dangerously short on coal, so short in fact that her engines had been silenced by a deficit of fuel. We are this late in presenting our case because we had to wait until the turn of the tide when the surge would be at its least in order to put down a diver.”
There was a surprised murmur from the onlookers. “Naturally the court is at liberty to verify these findings in whatever manner it chooses, but I will now call the diver.”
Without being named, Gideon walked easily to the witness box.
“Your name, please?”
“Gideon Hand.”
“Would you tell the court please in your own words what you found when you examined the wreck of the Circe off Meagher’s Head this afternoon.”
“Yes sir. She’s resting in only forty feet of water, so it’s easy enough to get down to her. First of all, she had enough coal in her to have taken her to New York, in my opinion, let alone just to Halifax. There was no reason I could see why she was ever diverted to Halifax.”
Again an ominous hum from the spectators. Long jumped to his feet. “May I ask, sir, what relationship you bear to Judgment Christian Hand, and what qualifications you have for judging how much coal would be needed for taking a ship from anywhere to New York?”
Gideon looked at him steadily, his eyes blue ice. “You may. I am Judgment Christian Hand’s father, and I am also a shipbuilder. For some years now we have been putting out an occasional coastal steamer between clippers. It should not surprise you that I have taken something of an interest in my son’s career — I know perfectly well the specifications of the Circe, including her engine and boiler setup, and I tell you as one who should know that there was enough and more than enough coal to take her to New York.”
Katharine looked at Christian, who was regarding his father with astonishment. So he didn’t think his father cared about him, did he?
Sir Howard broke in. “Yet we have heard a great deal of testimony to the effect that the chief engineer was worried enough about the coal supply to insist upon a change of course, and the captain did indeed head the ship for Halifax. Otherwise,” he added dryly, “we should all hardly be gathered in this courtroom.”
“That’s as may be,” Gideon replied coolly. “I would have to say that the chief engineer’s estimate was prompted either by incredible incompetence or by malice, take your choice. I’m sure that my word will hardly be sufficient, nor should it be, but I think that before any decision is reached, divers chosen by the court should be sent down to verify what I’ve said.”
Sir Howard looked grim. “They certainly shall,” he promised. “I see that other witnesses have been brought in. Perhaps we should hear what they have to say as well.”
“Indeed you should, my lord.” Gideon gave a wintry smile. “I’ll leave you with a parting thought that may already have been brought up: cold boilers don’t explode.”
The rest was almost anticlimax. One by one the seamen paraded to the box, and finally it was all there: the desperation of the attempt to put a line ashore, the offshore wind, the engine thudding away at the point of impact, the mysterious source of the liquor aboard, even the wreckers.
“What I can’t understand,” Katharine whispered to Aaron Fine, “is why you couldn’t find anyone to say all this before.”
Fine shrugged, his eyes intent on the witness box. “I suppose we should thank the opposition for trying to save money and failing to pay the men at this end,” he replied wryly. “They must have thought that after the wreck, no matter what happened at the inquiry, Christian was finished, and I suppose they’re right.”
Katharine was brought up short, her jubilation squelched. Even in partnership with his father, it would be years before Christian could amass enough money to begin another ship, even supposing that people could forget the Circe. No matter now that the newspapers would all change their stories, Christian and his company were still the only scapegoats left. She felt like weeping as she watched the triumphant expression on his face.
When at last the inquiry was adjourned for two days to allow inspection of the wreck, the verdict was no longer in doubt. Criminal negligence on the part of the ship’s officers would be listed officially as the cause of the disaster. The murders would of necessity have to remain by person or persons unknown. Christian, Gideon, Elisabeth, Aaron Fine, Dick Poulson, and George Pendrake all made off together in a group to celebrate their victory in the dining room of the Hotel Splendide, leaving Katharine to make her way disconsolately back to her hotel. She knew that she should look in on Roger to see how he was, but she was too tired, too dispirited.
As she asked for her key at the hotel desk, she put in an order for tea to be sent up. At the moment, the idea of eating anything was beyond her. She sat in the dark room for quite a while watching the dusk deepen across the buildings that hemmed in the view from her window. Tears ran unchecked down her face as she stared unseeing at the darkening scene before her. It was all finished now. Working for his father, he would hardly need a secretary, nor probably want the embarrassment of one he had taken to bed, for that matter. His endearment of the day before was a courtesy — by tacit consent they had spent last night apart, not even touching each other when they said goodnight. Thomas and Molly O’Donnell and perhaps Roger too were all dead, even poor Sam, for whom she found surprisingly, she felt more sorry than anything else. She might write Jack Carr, who had seemed to like her, for a reference — why, he might even find something for her to do if she could borrow passage money from Aaron Fine or perhaps from Christian’s father …
A knock on the door interrupted her reverie. She hastily wiped the tears from her face, not wanting the waiter with the tea to see her in such a state. “Come in,” she called.
“Put it on the table, will you? There’s a tip there for you.”
Instead of the discreet closing of the door, there came the familiar voice: “Whatever are you doing sitting there in the dark, Kate? Why didn’t you come with us?”
She stood and turned. I
n the dimness of the unlighted room he stood looking at her, unfamiliar in his formal suit. “No — no one invited me,” she managed in a small voice.
He shook his head. “Kate, Kate, why should you have felt you had to be invited?”
“Judge, you really needn’t think you have to — well, be polite just because the other night —”
“Hush,” he said, putting his hand up to her lips and then framing her face in his hands. “I don’t ‘have to’ anything. I told you you were my love, wasn’t that enough? Come, here’s your cloak. They’re all waiting for us.
“With the Circe gone, what will you do?” she asked as they walked rapidly toward the Splendide.
“Why, build another ship, of course,” he said, sounding surprised that she had even asked.
“But the money? With Clarice gone, where will the money come from?”
Her intense concern so touched him that he stopped dead in the middle of King Edward Street and kissed her soundly, much to the astonishment of passersby.
“I’ve already convinced Aaron Fine that his father’s investment in the Circe needn’t be lost entirely if he’ll just cough up something more for the next one, the Ariadne.” He laughed. “Her keel has already been laid, I got that much out of Clarice anyway, and she won’t be sorry in the end. I’ve told Sir Howard how fortunate he is that the Circe went down, because he wouldn’t otherwise have had a prayer of investing in the Ariadne. Aaron says that Arabella will be good for a part of it, provided that Jack does the designing and the engines — we’re going to put twin screws on her, by the way — and Poulson’s group is interested as well. What’s the matter?”
This time it was she who had stopped, for she was laughing so hard she felt weak. “And here I thought you were ruined,” she gasped. “I was actually feeling sorry for you.”
He grinned, a satisfied lion very pleased with life. “Tell me, love, how are you at keeping accounts?”
PART THREE
David
Kings of the Sea Page 37