by John Molloy
“Right young man, that will be all, except to say that I have arranged your watch keeping duties at the hospital later tonight. No one is to be allowed in there apart from the officers and the chief steward. Understood?”
“Yes sir.”
“Thank you. You may go now.”
The captain gathered up the notes that had been written by his colleagues. “Thank you gentlemen, I’ll need these for the authorities and the police. You’re off watch now so would you like to join me for a night cap?”
They retired to the captain’s quarters for a well-deserved drink.
Back in his cabin, Oswyn was relieved that the captain’s questions had not been too probing as he recalled what really happened earlier that day:
Oswyn felt he wouldn’t be missed as he was working on his own but he feared for the safety of the young man. When he saw the ordinary seaman go up the starboard side he decided to follow him on the port side - it was only half a minute walk. He saw the ordinary seaman go to the forward end of the hold and pick up two cluster lights. After coiling the flex he began walking aft with them. The light was dim with just a glimmer coming up the two passageways from number four hold. Then he saw a figure coming down the ladder from the mast house, but couldn’t see clearly in the darkness. The ordinary seaman was on top of this man before he saw who it was; he dropped the lights and turned to run but a hand pushed him over the life line. He let out a shriek which could barely be heard over the noise of the engines. Oswyn came out of the shadows and the man saw him before he scuttled back up the ladder to the mast house and back on deck. He could hardly make out the prone shape lying on the floor of the hold. Oswyn was left in a state shock and fear, compounded by the dilemma of what he should do next. He was in no doubt that the man who pushed the ordinary seaman was the murderer. But he couldn’t tell anyone about it because he would become a prime suspect for what he had just witnessed. Back on deck, he looked up and saw Tukola who had a murderous glint in his eyes; he was pulling up a bucket of sweepings. Oswyn couldn’t prove beyond doubt it was Tukola, but in his own mind he was certain that the he was the figure on the ladder.
Oswyn came on duty at midnight. They expected to be in Panama at ten hundred hours the next day, so the watch keeping would end when the sick man was taken ashore. He brought a book to pass away the hours. He read for an hour then began to doze off as he lay back in his chair. Minutes later he was suddenly woken by what he thought was the noise of something metallic falling on the deck outside. He sat up and went to look out on deck to see if there was anyone around, but he saw no one. However, back in the room he decided that he’d be safer if he had his gun with him. Glancing at his watch, it was nearing two hundred hours. He closed the hospital door and as he turned to go back to his cabin, he kicked something. He bent down in the dark to see what it was and when he picked it up he was struck with fear. Oh hell, he thought, it’s a bloody marlin spike! That’s what I must of heard making the noise. After re-checking that the hospital door was securely locked, he jogged back to his cabin. His roommate was asleep so he rooted under his mattress and brought out the small gun and tucked it into his belt under his shirt. “That bastard,” he said in a barely stifled whisper, “I won’t hesitate to shoot him.”
Oswyn hurried back to the hospital where he purposely left the door unlocked. He stationed himself behind an empty bed. Then he turned off the light. He lost track of time as he closed his eyes and listened for every sound above the throbbing of the engines. He wanted to give himself every advantage over his desperate adversary, so he placed the eight inch long metal marlin spike on the bed in case he needed a backup weapon. Oswyn thought it slightly ironic that the marlin spike, a tool used by sailors to splice and fix ropes, could now be used to ‘fix’ the intruder.
After about thirty minutes he heard the faintest sound of the door handle being turned. He waited breathlessly as the door slowly opened and in the half-light could just make out a foot appearing over the weather step. A few seconds later a second foot appeared. The shadowy figure closed the door behind him. Oswyn’s breath came in deep intakes against the pounding of his heart as he crouched out of sight behind the empty bed. The figure stood adjusting his eyes to the gloom and then moved over towards where the patient was lying. He took the pillow off the other bed and knelt down, placing the pillow over the unconscious seaman’s face.
Oswyn jumped up.
”Hold it there you murdering scum.”
The assailant ran for the door but Oswyn pushed the empty bed up to the door to block his exit. Oswyn reached the light switch and sure enough, there was Tukola with his knife ready to use, arm drawn back in a pre-stabbing posture. Oswyn grabbed the marlin spike and held it up threateningly.
“Did you drop this on your first attempt?”
Tukola moved over to where his intended victim lay stricken - knife at the ready.
“That spike won’t save you. I saw you push the seaman down the hold. I have come here to see how he is now in case you try to kill him before he speaks the truth,” he snarled.
“When he does speak the truth, you’re the one he’s going to expose as his attacker, and he’ll tell how he saw you kill the girl in Bombay,” countered Oswyn, angrily.
“What do you know about Bombay?”
He lunged at Oswyn - the knife came dangerously close. Oswyn threw the spike hitting him above the left eye. He fell backwards momentarily and then pounced again like a wounded lion, spittle running down his chin. Oswyn side stepped around the bed and drew the gun.
”Another move and you’re a dead man. I won’t hesitate to shoot you. Time’s running out for you, Tukola. If I tell how I saw you push this man down the hold the crew will hang you from the yard arm. They’ll also know you killed those girls on the ship.”
“You know nothing about who killed those girls and it is an offence to have a gun. A mutiny offence.”
Groaning with pain, he wiped the blood running into his eye and after frantically pushing the bed away from the door, scurried from the room.
Oswyn checked to see if the patient was still alive. To his great relief he was, but his breathing was shallow and labored. He took the pillow that nearly killed the seaman and threw it back on the empty bed. Then he locked the door and moved the bed and chair back in place.
Sitting down, his mind was in turmoil. He couldn’t tell anyone about what happened. It would only be his word against Tukola’s. He had no proof; only what he saw in the hold. And if he was to tell the captain, he would first have to admit that he hadn’t initially told him the truth about the incident. Hardly something that would make him appear a credible witness, he lamented.
The next crewman on watch duties would be along soon, he reminded himself, as he tried to regain a semblance of composure.
Oswyn hoped there might be some developments when they get to Havana, but with the revolution apparently still in full swing, it would not easy to predict what the law and policing would be like. He looked at his watch; it was coming up to four hundred hours and in another six hours they’d be in Panama.
Flamenco Island was abeam at eight hundred hours, and then there was a short run in before picking up the pilot. They entered Miraflores locks and the busy water rose them up from the dark cavern of the lock to the bright sunshine again. There was an ambulance waiting on the dockside and the young seaman was carried by the shore medics on a specially devised stretcher and he was whisked away to hospital.
Henry had gone down and retrieved the master key from its hiding place. He was ready now to conduct his search. He thought it was now or never and he took note where Tukola and his roommate were working. They were both on the forecastle head and would have to remain there tending the ropes as the little engines known as mules pulled the ship through the locks. He waited until eleven hundred hours after smoko was served. All hands were on deck and there was no one in the crew’s alleyway. He tried the handle and was surprised to find the door was open. He went in and took out
the drawers one by one but wasn’t sure which belonged to Tukola and which were his roommates. He found nothing incriminating in any of the drawers. He then pulled out the bottom drawer of the bureau and saw a cigar box tied with a ribbon. He opened it and his heart almost stopped; it had all the stolen jewelry and other trophies from the dead girls. He didn’t care if Tukola came along now, he would kill him with his bare hands. Tucking the box under his shirt, he replaced the drawer and went back to his cabin.
Gary was out on deck sightseeing. He went into the lavatory and bolted the door. Sitting down he opened the box with trembling hands. Shirley’s ring, he couldn’t mistake the aquamarine birthstone. He remembered picking it out in the jewelers shop and how delighted she was when she opened her birthday card and the ring fell out. Then he noticed Pippa’s chain with the beautiful diamond ring. There were also numerous small decorative nose piercings from Asian girls, bangles and cheap baubles. The most hideous were the small dried pieces of flesh cut from their genitals with hair still attached, and some other withered pieces which looked like nipples. This is one sick and evil bastard, he thought, he’ll know now when he misses this box that his game is up. And he’ll know for sure I’m the one who’s caught him. I’ll have to watch my back for the rest of this trip, another five days.
Back in the cabin, Henry hid the box under his mattress and then went to put the key back in its hiding place. All the hands were on deck looking at the sights going through the locks.
At lunch as they sailed through the Gaillard Cut with its high walled cliffs on both sides where the builders of this great waterway cut through what is known as Gold Hill. Henry casually asked the chief steward if there was any mail.
“The ship’s agent won’t come on board until we get into the locks at the other end of the canal, so if you have anything to post, give it to me when we enter the first lock.”
“Thanks chief I’ll have my post ready then,” he said as he made his way to the pantry.
Gary came into the pantry with a container of soup which he’d brought up from the galley. Henry could tell by his mannerisms that Gary was desperate to tell him something. As they were leaving the pantry going across the alleyway to the dining saloon, he grabbed Henry by the arm.
“Who do you think I saw scowling at me and with a nasty cut over his eye?”
“Who?”
“Tukola. Someone planted a right one on him. Whoever it was, I’d like to shake his hand.”
“Me too.”
When they finished saloon duty they went below for their lunch; there was no sign of any deck hands, they were back working on deck. Gary was still buoyed up about Tukola’s eye.
“I wonder who hit him. I’m telling you Henry, it’s a beauty, a real Joe Louis punch he must have got.”
The second cook came in with the pantry boy carrying their lunches. Having overheard Gary’s remark about Tukola’s eye, he smiled at them through crooked teeth.
“I don’t know who hit him but whoever he was I’d like to thank him. Apparently, Tukola is claiming he walked into a door, His roommate said he had no black eye when they turned in last night, so it must have happened sometime during the night.”
Henry spoke between mouthfuls of food.
“I think there are strange things happening on this ship. Who was watching the hospital just the apprentices?”
“Yeah, trumped up the galley boy. The apprentices were doing it in four hour shifts, and if that Tukola bastard had tried anything, those lads wouldn’t take any nonsense from him.”
Gary was all excited to learn that so many of the crew disliked Tukola.
Henry went on deck as they sailed through Gatun Lake. It was an enchanting sight with the tops of trees and hills jutting above the water and beautiful violet flowers and the verdant green leaves of water hyacinths floating on the shimmering surface. The afternoon was hot and humid with a relentless sun mirroring off the calm water.
Tukola’s eye injury was puzzling Henry. Would he have tried to go into the hospital to finish the job of killing the young seaman, and being confronted by an apprentice, have sustained his injury, he pondered. He decided he would like to see the injury and judge for himself; find out if it was caused by a fist or some kind of weapon.
He looked out across the lake and knew that with another hour’s sailing a letter from Danny could prove to be the culmination of this whole investigation. The box with its grisly contents was testament to the horrors and the suffering of Tukola’s victims. There was a hatred building within him that Henry knew he should control to enable him to conduct the conclusion of the case in a professional manner. He saw the men coming off deck to go for their smoko and he would now see Tukola’s eye for himself. Tukola was walking towards him and Henry stood and brazenly looked at the eye as he passed. Henry knew as he looked at the severe cut and bruising on the eyebrow and the closed and swollen eye that this was the result of a blow from a weapon of some kind.
He went onto the bridge with the smoko for the officers and pilot. The ship was approaching the entrance of Gatun Locks. He had a feeling of euphoria standing in the wheelhouse looking out over the foredeck at the wonderful sight of the open Lock gates.
“Excuse me steward, you’re blocking the quartermaster’s view. He’s steering by sight now, thank you.”
Embarrassed, Henry moved from in front of the wheelman. He could see the ship’s agent standing at the lock with his briefcase in hand. He ran down to get his letters to give to the chief steward. He hadn’t much to say to Vera; a bit of rambling on about the beautiful Pacific, he briefly mentioned the ordinary seaman as he knew she already had a wireless message about it. He wrote to Vincent and included a letter for Denis. It was only a few months since he left but it seemed like years. He hoped Denis was getting his life back together again, it wouldn’t be easy but he was quite a resilient man.
Henry took a mug of tea and went to his cabin. Gary was listening to an American radio station based in Panama. Then the news came on: The city of Santiago had fallen to Castro’s rebels and the government forces were in retreat. The fall of Havana was imminent.
“Jesus! Henry, it looks like we’re sailing into another heap of trouble. The military will probably have a curfew in place when we get there.”
“You could be damn right, there’ll be no law or order in that place; only looting left right and center. It won’t be safe to go ashore even if we’re allowed.”
Looking out of the porthole it was dark as the ship was lowered in the lock, then she was away again into the bright sunshine to the next lock. This was repeated twice more before they sailed out into Limor Bay and set a course north for Cuba.
Henry was serving the evening meal and was disappointed he hadn’t yet received any mail.
“Has the mail come on board,” he asked the second steward.
“Yes, the old man has the mail but seemingly he hasn’t had time to go through it, having to stay on the bridge until we are clear of the locks.”
They were half way through serving the meal when he saw the mate pass through to the chief steward’s cabin with a handful of mail. Hopefully there’s word from Danny to confirm my conclusion of this case, he thought. Henry was so tensed up he nearly dropped a plate of steak and onions into the chief engineer’s lap.
As soon as he’d finished his duties, Henry galloped into the chief steward’s cabin and was handed three letters. He went straight to the lavatory and bolted the door. He noted the postmarks; there was at letter from India, one from Australia and one bearing a British postmark. He felt this was his reading room now - a lavatory no less! He opened the one from Danny first. He had gotten the result of the fingerprints and it confirmed that the print on the floor of the closet was indeed that of Tukola; a full palm print they couldn’t confirm, but the five clear fingerprints were a match to his seaman’s discharge book. They also found one on the side of the wash basin to match. Danny was of the same belief that he got into the cabin before Pippa arrived down fr
om the bridge and hid in the closet. He could have killed her shortly after she entered the room and later in the night when it was quiet, he could have thrown the body over the side.
My God, Henry thought, what am I going to do in a place like Havana with a revolution in full swing? It will be another three weeks voyage to the UK with our cargo of sugar, and we could be two to three weeks loading. How can we stop this maniac from murdering again? And my own safety will be compromised when he notices the missing box. If I go to the captain, who would already know the killer’s identity by now, how can he arrest and detain him on the ship without the crew tearing Tukola from limb to limb - there’d be a bloody mutiny!
He opened Fokir’s letter; he relayed how Oswyn actually stayed in Bombay the night before the ship sailed and he was with the man who killed Nilima. The detectives found a piece of clothing in the girl’s fist that she tore from her killer. He relayed the whole story and the arrest of two workers at the Lord Welland Plantation. One was a senior overseer and both men were in the same hotel in Bombay as Oswyn on the night of the murder. It was only a matter of time when a charge will be made and it will be known in due course if Oswyn was a willing accomplice. Fokir thought it likely that the Lord would be charged under Indian law of complicity in this case.
The third letter from Vera was full of concern for his safety; she warned him that the powers that be would stop at nothing to have him discredited and thrown off the case. She wrote that he should be very careful ashore as there could be an attempt on his life. He wondered if the Lord could have anyone in Havana who would do his bidding. There was a strong British business community there which would also conceal a darker gangster element, probably aligned to the Mafia. He re-read the letters before consigning them to the lavatory and the deep blue ocean.
The captain sat stony faced at his desk. The letter from the chief detective superintendent handling the case in Australia had stunned him. He had expected a breakthrough, but when it came and now the culprit had been named, it was shocking. He sat trying to comprehend the situation; he felt his stomach tense up and an aura of helplessness surround him. He knew he couldn’t confide this to any of his officers in case the killer’s name got out. If that were to happen, Tukola would be killed within an hour. He knew the loathing the crew harbored could not be contained; Tukola could have also pushed the ordinary seaman to his near demise, he pondered. Then he thought of the beautiful young vibrant Pippa and his heart sank. Maybe he could have him arrested in Havana.