by John Molloy
The boatswain eyed him with a slight distain.
“You’ll be with the carpenter in number one hold with your roommate, starting tomorrow.”
Tukola shifted his feet in a nervous reaction and averted his look from the stern stare of the boatswain’s hazel eyes. Then he spoke in a slow and calculated voice.
“Will we be taking down all the feeders and shifting boards?”
“Yes” the carpenter replied, “all the feeders but we’re not sure about the shifting boards. Myself and the boatswain have never sailed with a sugar cargo before.”
“I sailed with sugar from Mauritius many times and we never took down the shifting boards but we did take down the stringers.”
“Don’t mention taking down stringers, that’s a bloody dock yard job, we have enough to do to have her ready as things stand.”
The boatswain sat on a table with one foot resting on a chair and turned to Henry who was still throwing practice darts, waiting for someone to come along and have a game.
“No takers for a game I see. Where are your shipmates now?”
Henry stood facing him threateningly and saw he had his hand with a thumb tucked into his belt alongside his knife. He sized up the situation and realized that Tukola would go along with the boatswain. He doubted the carpenter would join in; he was older and a more placid individual.
Then Henry’s ire began to get the better of him.
“My shipmates are afraid to come in here because of your threats and bullying, but I’m not afraid of any of you, right!”
He held the three darts like a weapon in his left hand and fingered his knife, the handle of which was now visible. Tukola stood beside the boatswain, his menacing dark eyes like a serpent. He waited for a sign to pounce and his knife was half way out of its sheath now.
The carpenter walked in front of them and spread his hands.
“Come on, tea’s up.”
The cook who was playing cribbage with two others, stood up and walked over to Henry.
“I’d like a game of darts. Come on, you throw first.”
That seemed to defuse the situation.
Henry handed him the darts and they played a couple of games and then went to see how Gary was. He wondered why Gary was so down. Was he worried that if this ordinary seaman spoke he might be the one he was fingering? There was something bothering him. Gary had the cabin door locked.
“Jesus, I’ll need a password next.”
Gary re-locked the door and sat down on the couch.
“What was the atmosphere like up there?”
Henry related what had happened to him.
“I’m glad I didn’t go up there.”
“Well I was expecting you. I could have done with a bit of back up.”
“Fuck, Henry, it’s getting dangerous. Did you see the ordinary seaman around?”
“No I didn’t see him. I’d like to know who he saw and what he saw in Bombay.”
“Nobody knows what he saw or who because he’s afraid to say anything. He only let it slip to the galley boy before we got into Japan.”
Three days out to sea and work was progressing in the forward holds. The weather was becoming remarkably warmer. Henry tossed around in his head the idea of Tukola’s cabin search, and now that both he and his roommate were on day work, it would be nigh impossible to search while they were on deck. Even with the master key, it would still be too dangerous. He pondered the consequences if he were caught. He would be hauled before the captain and branded as a thief; a serious charge on a ship, akin to being a leper. No, he knew he’d have only one chance and that would be somewhere going through the Panama Canal, so he’d have to wait.
The captain called the mate on the bridge and asked him to call into his cabin on his way off watch.
He knocked and heard his voice.
“Come in, take a seat there.”
The captain was at his big leather-topped desk going over some overtime sheets.
“How is the work on the holds progressing?”
“Fine, I have a gang in number one and two and they’re making good progress. I took the four apprentices off watches and put them on day work to make sure the feeder boards are stacked in proper order and I assigned them to that, much to the disgruntled complaints from the boatswain.”
“A good idea, it’s very important for the next chief officer who’ll have the job of putting them back up again to have them stacked in numerical order. My first trip as chief officer was on a ship that had come from Vancouver with a timber cargo, and we were bound for Galveston for a cargo of soya beans for Japan. My God, but the feeder boards and shifting boards were all over the place. It took as much to sort and find them as it did to put them up. We barely had her ready working until midnight every day and for eighteen days.”
The mate was shocked at the change in the captain’s appearance. He had aged and dark circles under his eyes made him look gaunt and worried.
“My relief won’t have that to bother him. We’ll be all glad of a bit of leave after this trip, including yourself sir.”
“Yes, I’ll be glad to walk down the gangway and I’m seriously considering retirement, although I’ve three years to go.”
“You could always do a bit ashore, like the coastal duty and shore command.”
“Yes, you’re right of course, I could do that. Tell me, has there been any trouble with our crewmen, have you noticed any incidents since the one with the young galley boy?”
“No, there’s nothing come to my attention and by having the apprentices on day work, it helps to keep a bit of normality, at least during the work day.”
“That’s good. Could you come with me into Pippa’s room and help me sort out her few belongings.”
“Sure.”
They went into Pippa’s cabin and he watched the captain as he opened the small suit case that lay on the couch.
“This is a little case I gave her; she had so few things to take with her.”
He held up a few trinkets and a photo of when she was a toddler sitting between her mother and father, he in his early forties and dressed in tropical whites, a handsome man, and her mother so radiant and beautiful like an oriental princess. He looked at a few watercolors on top of the bureau. One was for him; the Rangoon with his cameo in the right top corner. He looked through the drawers but there was nothing else. He turned to the mate.
“The precious diamond ring she wore on a chain around her neck is missing. I wonder if the monster that killed her took it, or has it gone with her? I was hoping to take it back to her poor mother. I will go to see her on my next leave. My good wife and I will make the trip.” He picked up her few things and faced the chief officer.
“How could anyone do such a thing to someone so vulnerable, beautiful and precious?”
“It could only be logical in the sick mind of the beast that walks the decks every day before our very eyes.”
“It’s an aberration of nature and all that humanity stands for.”
He looked at the few things in his hands.
“She had nothing yet the whole world was hers.”
He went to his day room and laid the little case on his desk, lifting up some clothes he looked at the chief officer.
“Thank you for doing this with me. This is all that’s left now.”
The captain’s voice was quaking with emotion and tears were welling up in his eyes.
The chief officer walked out and closed the door on a broken hearted man
After breakfast, the chief steward called Henry.
“You can do out Pippa’s room. The captain has removed her last few belongings.”
He went to her cabin after smoko and stood with the vacuum cleaner in his hand and his other cleaning cloths. The empty space that held such joy seemed to close in on him; it brought back painful memories of all the other girls who had been brutally murdered. He closed the door and started a search in case he might have missed something. He went through all the drawers. He
looked in the well in the port hole and ran his finger through half inch of stale water. He then looked at the bunk and as he lifted it and searched underneath, stuck by the side of the bunk board was a fish hook which he removed and placed it in his pocket.
After he had cleaned the cabin, he closed the door behind him as if it was a cover of a book and he was trying to leave the memory inside. He went into the junior radio man’s room which was only a short distance down the passageway. Sweeney was on duty so he decided to do a search again. He closed the door behind him and didn’t expect to be disturbed as he knew Sweeney would be on watch for the next hour. He wanted to find the Sigmund Freud book and see if he’d made any more references in it. He could hear soft music coming from the captain’s dayroom as he leafed through the book. He noticed on the page describing the effect on the Id of a large penis, Sweeney had written S.S.R.O. in large letters. He looked to the next page and saw a crude sketch of a naked woman with a dark oversized pubic area and below this was the letters, M.J.P. He wrote these down on his hand and replaced the book. Henry searched the top drawer and took out Sweeney’s writing pad. He found a half written letter to Moyna Jahavi Padnesh. There was no date on the letter which was written in print, presumably for easy reading. It was like something a child would write - it seemed harmless and tinged with sadness. He tried to think who the name belonged to. He was sure he heard it from either Danny or Fokir. He left and when he got to his cabin he wrote down the name on a piece of papers together with the letters which he copied from his hand.
Day followed day in monotonous succession, the radio stations were gone as they often did so far from land, and transistors along the alleyways were silent. The evenings were glorious and sitting out on deck having a smoke and a chat was the highlight of Henry’s day.
Gary Conrad mostly stayed in the cabin, and even with Henry doing his bodyguard duties, he seemed reluctant to face the accusers on deck.
The second cook was always glad of a bit of company. He was a young married lad from Hull in Yorkshire. He’d often chat with Henry on deck but he preferred not mention the killings. If Henry tried to introduce some aspect of the present situation on board he would usually be met with a silence. The groups of inquisitors were still evident standing around tongue wagging and spying. The boatswain and his three companions were most prominent members of the rumor mill. When Tukola came on deck he was always alone. The boatswain and his gang never spoke to him and it seemed he avoided them. Henry thought this strange for a deck hand who worked with them every day; even his roommate was never seen with him - he looked to be a real loner.
The second cook threw his half smoked cigarette over the side.
“I’m going in for a mug of tea and a sandwich. I’ll be around if you want to play darts, Henry.”
“I’ll be along later. I’ll have a walk around deck for a bit first.”
As Henry strolled along the after deck he tried to put some loose ends together, and then it struck him. Moyna Jahavi Padnesh was the young girl murdered on the dock in Bombay. The one he’d seen with the junior radio operator. Bloody hell, if he killed her, why was he writing a letter to her. It didn’t make sense - nothing about this killer makes sense, he mused. The initials below the sketch of a naked woman, yes! M.J.P. the girls initials, and of course S.S.R.O. his own initials: Sean Sweeney Radio Operator. He definitely has a problem but how far is this problem taking him, Henry speculated. What did the ordinary seaman see and who did he see? It could wrap up the whole investigation if he knew that. He pounded his brain with theory after theory, but none of them seemed to make sense. Again, he wondered why Gary was so afraid of what the young seaman saw. He went back to his cabin, the door was locked, so he knocked and Gary pulled open the door, a book in his hand.
“What are you reading?”
He turned up the cover.
It was The World of Suzie Wong.
“Just got it off the second steward and it’s not bad so far.”
“Are you coming for a mug and a sandwich?”
He cornered the page and threw the book onto his bunk.
“1will I need my weapon.”
“Aye, leave it, I have mine. I’ll be the bodyguard for tonight.”
They met the second cook and went to play darts there was twelve or so men playing cards and a relaxed atmosphere seemed to prevail. Tukola and the boatswain and his gang weren’t around. Then the ordinary seaman came in with a mug of tea and a sandwich. He looked around before he seated himself alongside a young A.B. All the card players stopped momentarily to look at the frightened young kid; his eye was swollen and he had a cut on his lip. The A.B. pulled open his shirt and showed the bruising along his ribs, exclaiming, “who the fuck did that to you?”
The young kid pulled his shirt closed and turned his head away from the prying eyes.
“I tripped down in the hold and fell onto the hatch boards,” was his unconvincing reply.
Christ, Henry thought, this is getting serious. He knew it would avail nothing to report it to the deck officers, and they couldn’t watch him twenty four hours a day. He’s real scared to mention a name or even where he saw this happening.
The radio stations had begun to fade when they were about seven days out. The lack of music only added to the tension around the crew’s quarters. The weather was getting warmer and the blue Pacific was beautiful as it sparkled under a cloudless sky.
Back in the cabin, Gary threw his book up onto Henry’s bunk.
“Here you are. I’ve just finished it. It’s not a bad yarn, a bit of wanking material.”
Henry stood up.
“Come on out on deck for a bit of evening air and don’t forget your weapon.”
Gary made a show of placing his knife into his belt. Henry pulled his shirt out to cover the handle of his. The sun was setting as they stood at the ship’s rail, Henry took out the Lucky Strikes and they both lit up.
The deck hands were working late; the apprentices were coming up out of the number four hold, then the crewmen began lifting the hatch boards on. The boatswain told Oswyn Welland to go to the bridge and ask the mate if they should batten down. He shouted back down to the boatswain on the boat deck that there was no need not batten down; the forecast was good.
Sometime later, Oswyn was alone in his cabin and the news of the ordinary seaman having seen something in Bombay began to bother him. He pulled up his mattress and took a letter he had received in Japan out of a cloth bag that he kept his gun in. He should have destroyed the letter straight away as he was instructed. However, he went to the lavatory put the bolt on the door for security and reread it again – several times. The letter had no name but he knew it had come from the English overseer on his father’s tea plantation.
The police here are investigating the girl’s death in the alleyway outside The Blue Orchid Bar. Something found in her hand; a piece of cloth torn from her killer with a name on it has led them to your father’s tea plantation - the cloth found was part of a uniform supplied here. Now they have uncovered the fact that you were in Bombay the night of this girl’s killing and also know the hotel you stayed in. There was also a girl killed on the dock the same night and one of your crew is suspected of this girl’s murder. You will probably hear more of this from your own people, but I thought I should write and inform you of your position. I do not know the full circumstances of this young girl’s killing outside The Blue Orchid, and who was involved from here, but two of our people went with you in our car from here and didn’t return until the next day. I hope this information will help put you in the picture and have you forewarned.
He knew the letter by heart now so he tore it up and flushed it down the lavatory.
Could the ordinary seaman have seen the killer on the dock? If not it was the inevitable and could he be incriminated. He pulled out a cigarette and sat smoking contemplating the situation as he now saw it. He wasn’t afraid when his father told him about the undercover detective on board, but he wouldn’t liste
n. No, his father wanted Henry discredited and either taken off the case or thrown in jail. Oswyn objected and told him there was no sense to what he intended doing, but again he wouldn’t listen. His father left for a business meeting in New Delhi a few days previous to him leaving the plantation. He told him they knew the girl Henry was having a liaison with and they intended to cause her harm and have him blamed for it. When they booked into their hotel in Bombay he asked the man who was his supposed bodyguard what time they were going to do their dastardly deed. He asked Oswyn not to come with them, but he insisted on accompanying them. They were suspicious of being tailed, so they left the plantation via the quiet back entrance. When they got to Bombay they knew the car would be suspicious and draw attention in an area like that, so they left the chauffeur in the car and walked a few blocks to a street opposite The Blue Orchid. They could see the alleyway alongside the bar, it was dark and foreboding, but they knew this was where Nilima lived, and she would come out a side door of the bar at some point. So they stood back in the shadows and waited.
Oswyn had asked his father’s lackey what he intended to do to harm the girl. He said just enough to get your detective friend in trouble with the police. He had also asked him to call it off and said he wouldn’t tell his father. The man said that it would get back to his boss and then he’d be out of a job with a wife and four children to support.
The girl had appeared with Henry outside the door and they were just visible in the dark alley. Henry had kissed her goodbye and went back inside. The Indian man was fleet footed and sprinted across the roadway and down the alleyway. Oswyn had seen him grab the girl from behind and she struggled and clawed at him before falling to the ground. He’d also seen him wipe the blade of the knife on her clothes before replacing it in his belt. Oswyn passed him and knelt down to see the life flow from the beautiful body. He’d held her head and seen the blood dribble over her pale lips and she laid still. He’d felt sick, he could have cried.