Late Harvest

by FIONA BUCKLEY

  The other man who was suspected of her murder. The man who was almost certainly guilty, as Daniel Hopton had once told me.

  The man who had paid weregild for her.

  I looked at him and saw that his face had gone rigid.

  ‘He wasn’t there that day,’ John said. ‘Just his assistant, a young lad, but most helpful. You have a good young fellow there, Mr Wheelwright. It’s a good shop, well stocked and there’s a shelf at one side with decorative things on it: things to adorn a captain’s cabin or make a gift for a girl. I saw this, and bought it.’

  He leant over the table, took the lid off the box, and got something out of it, which he held up for us to see. It was a brass ornament about two feet tall, and looked like a plate fastened upright on a plinth. John tilted it under the light and I was close enough to make out the lettering engraved across the plinth.

  The Pretty Fairing.

  ‘I’ll pass it round,’ said John, and did so. Each of us in turn had a chance to study it. I remembered John, in the kitchen at Foxwell, a brandy in his hand, describing it. It had a pleasant engraved picture of a youth handing a bunch of ribbons to a girl. It was surely the gift that Captain Summers had presented to his brother-in-law to mark the birth of Captain Grover’s baby son.

  John, in fact, was saying so at that moment. He was describing the celebration party and the other gifts that he had seen along with this one. He was saying how odd it was that it should turn up in Mr Wheelwright’s shop in Minehead.’

  ‘I got it in Cornwall!’ said Wheelwright. ‘There’s a fellow there I know, a fisherman that makes a bit of extra money beachcombing. He said he’d found this on a stretch of beach. It were half-buried in the sand. I bought it from him cheap and shined it up to go in my shop.’

  But Wheelwright’s voice was high and scared. I saw now what this gathering was all about. Wheelwright was being accused of something and not, apparently, of murdering Maisie Cutler. This was something else.

  ‘You must have known where it came from,’ said Ralph stonily. ‘The Pretty Fairing was a Minehead ship. And she was destroyed by wreckers. We all know the story.’

  ‘Yes, yes, but what does it matter? It’s a pretty thing, what would be the point of just leaving it in the sand? I thought, someone might buy it for old times’ sake! Someone who’d known the Fairing …’

  ‘I bought it and called on Mr Duggan on the way back to the Eleanor,’ said John. ‘Mr Ralph Duggan wasn’t there but his son, Mr Charles Duggan, was.’

  ‘Aye,’ said the man I had identified as Charlie. ‘So I was, and a bad shock it gave me, seeing that brass ornament and hearing that it had just been bought in a shop like lawful merchandise. Contraband we do run here, when we get the chance, but wrecking, no, and Fairing was the victim of wreckers. Made me think, that did. Mr Bright here was thinking, too. So he and I, we hatched a plan, and when my father came back, I talked to him. We got Daniel Hopton to help.’

  ‘Aye,’ said Daniel.

  ‘We tried the chandler’s shop first,’ said Charlie. ‘Wheelwright lives above it, don’t you, Laurence? You were away somewhere in the Summer Dawn when John bought this pretty ornament and you were still away. John here begged some time off – that’s when he told Captain Summers about all this – and then we went to the shop and got your assistant outside by having a pretend accident in the street, a collision between two carts. John and Daniel saw to that while Dad and I nipped into the shop and did some searching. We didn’t find aught but next day, home you came in the Summer Dawn. We reckoned it was worth trying again. Mr Bright, go on.’

  ‘This is all nonsense. What are you saying I’ve done? I don’t understand!’ Wheelwright’s eyes were slewing from side to side, as though he were a trapped animal wanting to escape.

  ‘That night,’ said John, ‘us four met at the harbour after dark and slipped aboard the Summer Dawn. Nice little vessel, she is. Got a cabin down below, well furnished. Has a rug on the floor. We got the rug up and some of the boards below looked funny and we had them up, too.’

  Once more, he delved into the box and this time brought out a set of four lanterns, one after another. He put them on the table and asked for a light. Charlie Duggan lit a spill from one of the ship’s lanterns. It seemed that the ones on the table all had candles in them. One by one, he lit them. It was then clear that they all had coloured glass in them. They cast beams of blue and yellow, red and green across the table.

  ‘Those were also among the gifts that Captain Grover received when he celebrated the birth of his child,’ said John. ‘I saw them myself. Were they also found by an innocent Cornish fisherman looking for flotsam in the sand? How do you account for them turning up under the deck in your ship’s cabin, Mr Wheelwright? They weren’t the only things there, by the way. There were quite a number of pretty gew-gaws, some of them valuable. There were pieces of women’s jewellery, for instance. Not for sale in your shop, I should think – you no doubt had other outlets for such things.’

  ‘This is ridiculous! I … I …!’

  There was, of course, virtually nothing that Wheelwright could say in his defence. Even by lantern light, I could see that his face had turned to a greyish-yellow colour. His eyes were huge with fright.

  Ralph spoke. ‘Most of us believe – to the point of knowing – that many years ago, Mr Wheelwright, you murdered a girl called Maisie Cutler, because she preferred someone else to you. You apparently paid for that – paid money to her family – and have since been free of the law. Indeed, we are not here to try you for her murder. All the same …

  ‘When the Pretty Fairing was attacked, Captain Grover, her master, died with her and his death has caused great grief to his wife and child and also to Captain Summers of the Eleanor Browne, his brother-in-law and his friend. That is why John Bright here was granted permission to join us tonight. Captain Summers would like to see justice done. And even though you bought yourself out of the grip of the law when you paid Maisie’s parents for her loss, others suffered loss through her death, as well as her own family. My brother Philip was nearly arrested for her murder, except that we got him away. You would have let him hang. At the time, also, I was about to be married.’

  He did not look at me, or need to. Probably everyone present knew the story. ‘Because of the suspicion that attached to my brother Philip, my marriage never came about,’ he said. ‘And that, too, caused much sorrow. You have much to answer for, Mr Wheelwright. You left Minehead for a while after the Maisie Cutler business and you came back well supplied with money. You’ve been well supplied with it ever since. The Summer Dawn is quite a luxury vessel. Where have you been making all this nice money? Would it, perhaps, be as a member of a wrecking gang in Cornwall?’

  There was silence, except for a gobbling sound from Laurence Wheelwright. His head turned this way and that, seeking a way out, seeking a friendly face. Finding neither.

  ‘You may speak in your own defence,’ said Ralph. ‘If you can explain how the objects on this table came into your possession, and thereby clear yourself, then do so. We will all be glad to hear that explanation.’

  ‘I … I … oh, God!’

  ‘Have you really nothing to say on your own behalf?’ asked Ralph, and then a murmur began among the other men.

  ‘Course he hasn’t …’

  ‘Like to hear it, I must say …’

  ‘B’ain’t no doubt …’

  ‘We got ropes, ain’t we? And a yardarm?’

  ‘No! No!’ Wheelwright screamed the words and turned as if to flee, even though there was nowhere to flee to, unless he were to throw himself into the sea. Charlie Duggan and one of the men I didn’t know, had seized hold of him.

  Ralph, raising his voice above Wheelwright’s cries, said: ‘Is it the opinion of you all that this man is guilty of the crime of wrecking? A show of hands, please!’

  All hands were shown, except that the two men who were holding Wheelwright, had no hands free and shouted Aye, instead.

 
I too raised my hand. I could do nothing else, and hideous as the outcome of this must be, justice to the dead insisted on it.

  ‘In that case,’ said Ralph, ‘there is nothing for me to do but pronounce sentence of death by hanging and may God …’

  I suppose he ended by saying have mercy on your soul, but the words couldn’t be heard above Wheelwright’s frantic shrieks. I looked at his face, so distorted by terror that he scarcely looked human, and remembered the fear on the face of Augusta Waters as her fathers prepared to beat her. That, I thought, is what blind terror does to people. It reduces us to petrified animals. Then John put his hand on my shoulder.

  ‘Ma. Best go below.’

  So I didn’t see Laurence Wheelwright die. But I heard. Even with my hands over my ears, I heard; the pleas for pity, the wild babbling and the horrid sound of a man crying; then an unintelligible scream, suddenly cut off by a choking noise and then thuds and scrabbling against the door to the companionway, the beastly sounds of kicking feet, until they weakened and ceased.

  I was by myself until it was over, and then John came to me. ‘I had to be there. We all had to be, Ma. We had to witness what we had chosen to do. But I’m sorry you were alone. Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, John. What has been done with …?’

  ‘Weighted and put overboard,’ John said.

  I remarked: ‘It’s a pity you didn’t get the names of his fellow-wreckers out of him before you … did it.’

  ‘We’d only have done that by bargaining with him for his life and we weren’t going to do that. Mr Duggan will lay information in Cornwall, about Mr Wheelwright and the Summer Dawn, though. Without mentioning tonight’s events, of course. Mr Wheelwright had an accident at sea, that will be the story. His boat will be found empty and adrift, and things discovered inside her when she was brought into harbour, things that aroused suspicion. That should lead to an enquiry and very likely, that enquiry will find out who his associates were, which dubious characters were his friends; times when his boat was seen in the area. I think his companions in crime will be brought to book before too long.’

  ‘What now?’ I asked wearily.

  ‘We make for port,’ said John. ‘I must rejoin the Eleanor tomorrow – no, today, now. Ma, you had better go back to wherever you were staying …’

  ‘The Wellington.’

  ‘We’ll try to get you there in time for breakfast and you can pretend you went out for an early morning walk. I should stay there today, if I were you, and get some rest.’

  The door creaked as Ralph pushed it wide and came in. ‘And in the evening,’ he said, ‘perhaps I may have the pleasure of giving you dinner at the Wellington, Mrs Bright. And before you answer, I think I must tell you – free trading is in the past for me now. I am leaving it behind. I think you and I may have things to talk about. Please agree to dine with me.’

  Completion

  I could, of course, have said no. But tonight, everything had changed. My bitter parting from Ralph had faded into a misty past. I only knew that here was Ralph, just as he had always been. Ralph. And that was enough.

  Besides, there was still Charlotte. I had been protecting her as much as myself when I refused to commit the two of us to life with a law-breaking husband and father, but if he had truly left free trading behind, he would have much to offer her and they had a right to know each other, to be truly father and daughter.

  And so, that evening, we sat opposite each other in the Wellington dining room, our faces lit by the branched candlestick on our table. We had had time to rest, to put on tidy clothes, to think. Now we studied one another, our faces serious.

  ‘Last night,’ I said. ‘It was dreadful.’

  ‘It was necessary,’ said Ralph. ‘The law might well have been too slow, too cautious … and we might have had some difficulty in explaining our own actions. Wheelwright, in the hands of the law, might have done some bargaining. He might have handed over a gang of free traders! No, it was best as it was, Peggy, and it was just.’

  A waiter came to ask for our order. We made our choice. It felt extraordinary to be free to do this, to dine in public with Ralph, knowing that no one in the world would object.

  But there were things to be said, that must be said. When the waiter was gone, I came straight to the point on which my whole future might turn.

  ‘Ralph, did you mean it when you said, on the ship, that you were putting smuggling – free trading – behind you?’

  ‘You want to hear it again, out loud, in a more definite way, don’t you? The answer is yes, I am. Peggy, when I left you – so unkindly, at Foxwell – I was full of hurt, of rage. You knew me, you had once been ready to marry me; the free trading didn’t matter then; why should it matter now? Those were the thoughts that dominated my mind. I didn’t, couldn’t, understand you. And then something happened.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘In my work, I meet seamen. A sailor came to the boatyard to collect a new boat and we did a little gossiping. He had once been a deck hand on a prison ship bound for Australia. It was the one the Hathertons, Luke and Roger, were on. He remembered them; they’d been angry, aggressive, made a to-do … but they never reached Australia. Dysentery broke out on the ship and over half the prisoners in the hold perished, as well as some of the crew! Both the Hathertons died. Luke first. His son tried to look after him, but two days after Luke had gone, Roger went as well. The sailor,’ said Ralph, and I saw his mouth twist as though he had tasted something repulsive, ‘said that the conditions in the hold where the prisoners were, were beyond belief.’

  ‘Squalid?’ I asked.

  ‘Worse! The hold stank anyway, he said, but when that disease came, well, a healthy man would start to retch if he as much as opened the hatch leading to it. They were bound for an Australian port called Botany Bay. They limped in like a plague ship. They were a plague ship. The port authority wouldn’t let them ashore until the sickness had run its course. All the dead had been buried at sea, of course. More were buried in Botany Bay itself. Eventually, the survivors were allowed to land. This sailor managed to change ships and get back home as a hand on a cargo vessel that didn’t smell of anything worse than cheese. And Peggy, that’s when I began to think.’

  ‘What exactly do you mean, Ralph?’ Two waiters had now appeared, one with the wine, the other with soup. I had forgotten what soup I had chosen but it turned out to be oxtail, thick and brown. I remember it so well.

  ‘I suddenly realized that I was not quite the young adventurer you fell in love with,’ Ralph said as he took up his spoon. ‘I began to see that if you had changed, so had I. The Hathertons were fine, strong men, but they couldn’t withstand the conditions on that prison ship. Would I? I cringed at the thought of trying. Then I saw that after all, I did understand your fears.’

  I wanted to say thank God but held my tongue.

  ‘I found,’ said Ralph, ‘that after all, I shared those fears. I don’t think I could endure transportation, Peggy. I think I would just die. Even if I survived the voyage, I’d have to face forced labour in a strange land. I thought about that too. I never really had before. Transportation was a disaster that happened to other people. But then I remembered hearing that many convicts die, even if they get to Australia safely, because of overwork and homesickness. I’m not adaptable enough now, even if I ever was.’

  ‘Ralph,’ I said. ‘What do you think made me – twice now – come to find you, to warn you, but fear for you? For what capture might do to you.’

  ‘I know. I do know, Peggy. And a prison here in England would be not much better,’ he added grimly. ‘I’ve realized that, too. I’ve warned Charlie to lay off the free trading as well. He has a family to consider, even if he’s willing to risk his own freedom. Our smuggling days are done, Peggy. Besides, there’s much less money in it now. The government is learning sense, bit by bit. And so, partly because of you, but partly because I’m not quite the Ralph Duggan I was, I have decided to turn respectable. You can hav
e it in writing if you wish.’

  ‘I’d like that. Yes, please.’

  We drank our soup after that without talking. The plates were removed and replaced by beefsteaks, along with an array of vegetables. Ralph said: ‘Honest trade with America is proving valuable. I am already building ships to carry imports. These tomatoes stuffed with mushrooms – we owe the tomatoes to America. It’s pleasant, having these new things on the table.’

  ‘Yes. It is.’

  There was another silence while we ate. Then, suddenly, Ralph laid down his knife and fork. ‘Peggy.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I haven’t thanked you properly for twice warning me. You kept your oath to my band of smugglers. I respect that.’

  I said: ‘I did it for you.’

  Ralph smiled, and stretched a hand to me, across the table. After a moment, I reached out to clasp it. Everything that needed to be said was said then, when our hands met. Although it did still need to be put into words.

  Ralph said: ‘I really do believe you love me. Peggy, the last time I was at Foxwell, I asked you a question. You said no. And I shouted at you. I said insulting things that I didn’t mean because your refusal hurt me so much that I wanted to hurt you back. I’m sorry, sorry, sorry – and even sorrier about the way I turned my back on you and walked away. Can you forgive me – really forgive me? And now I ask you the same question again …’

  He paused. I waited.

  ‘If this time the answer is no,’ he said, ‘then that is the end, for ever. But will you marry me, Peggy Bright?’

  ‘Of course,’ I said.

  Over apple pie and clotted cream, we got down to practicalities.

  ‘The Darracotts have had all they can stand,’ Ralph said. ‘They just can’t manage at Standing Stone. They’re losing ground. Dick Webster does all he can with them but Darracott always has some new idea or other for improving things and his ideas never work. But now Wheelwright’s Ship’s Chandlers is available! That would be ideal for the Darracotts. We could get things arranged and be ready to move into Standing Stone in a matter of weeks. I learned a bit about agriculture in Antigua, and you know plenty and so does Dickie Webster. You can run things between you while I learn.’