Killigrew grimaced. ‘I might as well have done. It’s just like Hong Kong all over again.’
‘Do you want me to fetch you an opium pipe?’
White-faced with sudden rage, Killigrew glared at him.
‘Well, that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? It’s not Mrs Cafferty you’re worried about, it’s yourself. When those convicts seized her last night, you saw a way to redeem yourself for what happened in Hong Kong. Only it didn’t quite work out like that, did it? So you’re starting to wonder if there’s something wrong with you; you wonder if you failed both that lassie in Hong Kong and Mrs Cafferty in some way. You want my opinion? You did.’
The lieutenant looked at him sharply, now too bewildered to be angry.
‘Failure’s a part of life, Killigrew, just as much as success is.’
‘I don’t like to fail.’
‘No one does. But it’s something we all have to face from time to time. The real test of character comes in how we cope with that failure: the realisation that even the best of us is only human.’
‘And I’ve failed that test too, you mean?’
‘No one faults you for being upset. All I’m saying is that sometimes you have to disremember the past, and learn to live for the future.’
Chapter 10
A Means to an End
It was nearly ten in the morning by the time the Tisiphone dropped anchor in Sydney Bay once more. Killigrew went ashore in the gig with Price, Robertson, Strachan and the marines appointed to act as the officers’ servants, who were detailed to collect the personal belongings that had been left behind at Government House the previous night. The house itself was more or less intact, but there was smoke-blackening around one of the windows, which Killigrew guessed looked out from the library. There were no convicts in sight anywhere, not even blue-jacketed overseers, but the soldiers of the garrison were much in evidence. The sound of roll call being taken drifted across from the direction of the compound surrounding the convict barracks.
The naval party met the garrison’s commanding officer coming from the direction of Quality Row with his adjutant. ‘Ah, Commander Robertson! I wondered if I might have a word?’
‘Certainly, Major,’ returned the commander. ‘May I ask what it’s in connection with?’
‘I’m going to have to submit a report to my colonel about last night’s events. Since both my report and yours is likely to end up before the lieutenant-governor – and quite possibly even the colonial secretary – I thought it might be sensible if we were to compare notes.’
Robertson frowned. ‘Are you sure that’s necessary? If we both stick to the truth, there’s no reason why our reports should contradict one another.’
‘Well, you know how these things can look different depending upon your perspective. Perhaps we could retire to my house to discuss it over a pot of tea?’
Price smiled. ‘I’ll leave you gentlemen to it, shall I? I’ve got a report of my own to prepare, and I need to speak to Mr Nairn. I don’t suppose you know where I can find him, Major?’
‘In the superintendent’s house, the last I heard.’
‘What about Fallon, sir?’ Killigrew asked impatiently.
‘Fallon can wait,’ Price assured him. ‘The longer he’s had to mull over the situation he’s put himself in, the more willing he’ll be to talk.’
‘And the further away the Lucy Ann will be!’ protested Strachan.
Price smiled. ‘Given that the Tisiphone is twice as fast as the Lucy Ann, and there’s no land within four hundred miles of here, wherever the Lucy Ann’s bound, I think you can be sure of getting there ahead of her even if you don’t leave until tomorrow morning.’ He touched the brim of his straw hat and struck out across the greensward towards the old gaol.
‘Wait a minute, Mr Price!’ Robertson called after him. ‘You said you’d let me have copies of the files on Cusack and the other six men who escaped.’
Price turned back. ‘I’ll bring them to you.’
‘No need. Killigrew will come with you and you can give them to him.’
The commandant hesitated before replying. ‘Very well,’ he said at last.
Robertson followed the major and his adjutant back in the direction of Quality Row, arguing about what they should say in their reports, while Killigrew and Strachan went after Price as the commandant headed to the superintendent of convicts’ house.
‘I thought you were going to the old gaol, sir?’ Killigrew asked Price.
‘You want those files, don’t you?’
The three of them found Nairn in one of the offices in the house, restoring his shattered nerves with a snifter of brandy. ‘A pretty to-do, eh, gentlemen?’ he declared heavily. ‘A pretty to-do! The comptroller-general will certainly have something to say about this! Devin Cusack snatched right from under our noses, and six of our most vicious incorrigibles to boot! A pretty to-do!’
‘The comptroller-general?’ said Killigrew. ‘After last night’s débâcle, I would have expected to be weighed off by the lieutenant-governor himself at the very least!’
‘If you’re going to blame anyone for what happened last night, Mr Nairn, let it be me,’ said Price, digging some manila folders out of a wooden cabinet. ‘Mr Killigrew did everything in his power to prevent those desperadoes from absconding.’
Nairn nodded. ‘I’m aware of Mr Killigrew’s efforts. Major de Winton tells me that if it hadn’t been for the lieutenant, we’d’ve had twelve convicts escape last night, instead of just six.’
‘You managed to round up the other six?’ asked Killigrew.
‘What was left of them,’ said Nairn. ‘You killed three of them; not to mention those three sailors from the ship that rescued them.’
Killigrew shook his head. ‘Wyatt shot one of them, though that was partly my doing, I suppose…’
‘You needn’t shed any tears on their account, Mr Killigrew,’ said Price, putting a couple of folders on the desk. ‘They murdered two soldiers from the garrison breaking the others out of the old gaol. Are the results of the roll call in yet, Mr Nairn? We know Cusack, Wyatt and Jarrett were amongst the escapees. What about the others?’
‘Wait a moment, I’ve got a list here somewhere.’ He shuffled through some papers on the desk. ‘Ah, yes, here we are. Blake, Harold; Vickers, James; Jarrett, Silas; Lissak, Solomon; Griddha, Mangal; and last but by no means least, Wyatt, Edmund. Oh, and Cusack, of course.’
‘Is it bad?’ asked Strachan.
‘About as bad as bad can be,’ Price told him, digging out another four files.
‘Let’s go and speak to Fallon,’ suggested Killigrew.
‘I’ll deal with Fallon,’ said Price. ‘You gentlemen had better go back on board the Tisiphone and get ready to sail. I’ll have a destination for you within the hour.’
‘We’re ready to sail now,’ said Killigrew. ‘Is there something you’d prefer us not to see in the cellar beneath the old gaol?’
Price looked awkward and glanced across to Nairn. ‘Under the circumstances, I think you’d better let them see,’ said the assistant comptroller-general.
Price shrugged and picked up the files he had gathered, slipping them under one arm. ‘All right, gentlemen.’ He headed for the door.
Killigrew and Strachan followed Price to the old gaol next door. ‘I hope you gentlemen aren’t squeamish,’ said the commandant, opening a door to one of the two buildings that flanked the courtyard.
‘We’ve both seen plenty of blood in the course of our careers,’ Killigrew assured him.
‘Heaven forbid it should come to that,’ said Price. ‘I have little relish for brutality, whatever my critics in Hobart Town may say to the contrary.’
They followed him down a narrow stone stairway into a cellar with freshly whitewashed brick walls, illuminated by a couple of oil lamps hanging from the ceiling. Two civilian overseers were standing guard over Fallon, who had been strapped to a horizontal iron frame six feet by two, with his head proje
cting over one end of it. He had been stripped naked but for a grimy, bloodstained bandage around his head, and a kind of gag in his mouth which consisted of a hardwood cylinder four and a half inches long and an inch and a half in diameter. The tube had been forced into his mouth like a horse’s bit, with only a hole drilled through it to allow him to breathe.
His face was beaded with sweat and the tendons stood out in his neck from the effort of keeping his head up. The tube-gag had been forced roughly into his mouth, so that his lips were bloody and flecks of blood bubbled through the hole in the tube with each whistling, ragged breath.
Strachan blanched. ‘Jings!’
‘We call this “the frame”,’ explained Price. ‘If he relaxes and allows his head to fall back, it cuts off his breathing. It may not look much, but you try it at home some time, with your head sticking off the end of the bed. The first few minutes are easy enough; but if you can keep it up for more than half an hour, I’ll be impressed.’
‘How long’s he been like this?’ asked Killigrew.
‘Since he was brought here last night.’
‘But this is monstrous!’ protested Strachan. ‘It’s torture, sir! Nothing less! Damned, barbaric, inhuman torture!’
‘If you know of any better way to find out where Cusack and the other convicts have gone, I should be more than happy to try it,’ Price assured him.
‘Tell him, Killigrew,’ pleaded Strachan, his native Perthshire accent creeping through his anguish. ‘By the hookie! Tell him tae let the puir de’il up! It’s inhuman, I tell ye!’
‘He’s right, Strachan,’ said Killigrew. ‘It’s the only way to find the Lucy Ann.’
The assistant surgeon stared at his friend in horror. ‘No’ you too! I’d’ve expected nothing less from this fiend in human form, but you…!’ He shook his head. ‘I want nae part of this. Better that Cusack and the others should escape than we become even worse monsters than the worst of them!’
‘You have no concept of what kind of men we’re dealing with here, Mr Strachan,’ said Price. ‘They’re not called “incorrigibles” for nothing. I’d sooner die than have their being let loose on the world at large on my conscience.’
‘How bad can they be?’ demanded Strachan. ‘Surely if they were truly vicious, they’d’ve been hanged for their crimes rather than transported?’
‘Oh, there’s not one of them who wasn’t condemned to be executed to begin with. But there’s a spirit of liberalism running through the British legal system these days, and they all had their sentences commuted to transportation for life. A mistake: out here in the colonies, they’ve confirmed their viciousness and become steeped in evil.’ Price took the folders from under his arm. ‘Wyatt I’ve already told you about. Let’s see, who else is there? Silas Jarrett, also known as Speeler: a swindler specialising in using his well-spoken manner to rob ladies of a certain age of their savings; he’s the one who left us to be burned alive last night, Mr Killigrew. Then there’s James Vickers. Fond of the ladies, is our Jemmy Fingers. They’re not so fond of him, but that never troubled him. He likes to hurt women. Eventually he was arrested as the perpetrator of a series of particularly vicious rapes.’
‘Vicious rapes,’ echoed Killigrew. ‘Isn’t that tautological?’
Price smiled grimly. ‘Not in Vickers’ case. If it were any woman other than Mrs Cafferty on that ship with him, I might feel sorry for her.’
‘No woman deserves to be raped, whatever sins may be on her conscience,’ snorted Strachan.
Price shrugged. ‘Next we have Solomon Lissak, the most notorious cracksman in living memory. The police had been after him for years. He was arrested for stealing goods to the value of five hundred guineas; even after he was arrested, he refused to name his accomplice or to surrender the booty. This isn’t the first time he’s made an escape attempt, gentlemen. When he was first arrested, he escaped from the police office where they were holding him and almost got away. Again, he escaped from the prison hulk he was held on in Gallion’s Reach and got halfway across the Kent marshes before the local yeomanry ran him to earth. He escaped twice more from the prison at Port Arthur; the second time he got as far as Sydney before the police picked him up following a bar-room brawl. After that they sent him here to Norfolk Island, thinking it was the one prison he couldn’t escape from. Three years ago he knocked out a civilian overseer and stole his uniform; the brig he stowed away on was only two days out of Hobart Town when he was caught.
‘Harold Blake, also known as Swaddy Blake. An old soldier – not that he ever served in any regiment longer than was necessary to collect his first pay and steal whatever arms and equipment he could lay his hands on. Between his brief stints of military service he used to beg in the streets of London by claiming to be a veteran of the Afghan War with a debilitating wound and a wife and four children to support; a fine dodge until one day he had been recognised as a thief and deserter by a sergeant of the Seventy-Seventh Foot. The sergeant, being a real veteran of that war, and having a real wife and four real children, took exception to Blake’s dodge. There was a fight; Blake hit the sergeant with a cosh. He pleaded self-defence to manslaughter, was found guilty and sentenced to death regardless, but then his sentence was commuted to transportation for life.
‘And finally, Mangal Griddha, also known as Piggy. He was arrested as a thug in India by Sir William Dampier; he turned approver. For betraying his fellow thugs, he was pardoned, despite having confessed to over a hundred garrottings; but he soon went back to his old ways. The next time he was arrested it was for being in possession of stolen goods. No one could prove he had strangled the merchants he had taken the goods from, so he was transported for receiving.
‘So if I have to torture Mr Fallon here, who played such a large part in helping them to escape last night, in order to stop them from being unleashed upon society once more, then I shan’t lose any sleep over it.’
‘That’s as may be,’ allowed Strachan. ‘But there are laws. Fallon hasn’t even been tried yet…’
‘I’m sure you’ll agree there’s no question over his guilt. And time is of the essence. You ask Killigrew here: the further the Lucy Ann gets away from this island, the less chance there is of us ever catching them.’
Strachan shook his head in disgust and made to leave. Noticing an iron frame with two small iron hoops at each end of it, and one larger iron hoop, he stared at it. Then he turned back to Price. ‘I’ve seen one of those before. In the Tower of London. It’s a scavenger’s daughter, isn’t it?’
Price nodded. ‘Extremely effective for extracting confessions from conspirators. Why do you think there have been no mutinies on this island since I took over as commandant? If the frame doesn’t get the truth out of Fallon here, I’ll try him in the scavenger’s daughter for a few hours.’
‘You know what that will do to him? He’ll be crippled for life!’
Price shrugged. ‘Not if he tells us where the Lucy Ann’s bound.’
Strachan stared at him. ‘I was warned I’d find the worst scum of the Empire on this island; but I never imagined that the vilest fiend of all would turn out to be the commandant!’
Price took two steps towards Strachan and raised a fist to strike him. The assistant surgeon flinched, but Killigrew caught Price by the wrist and stayed the blow. ‘Let him go,’ he told Price softly.
Strachan paused on the stairs and turned back. ‘And you’re no better than he is, if you stand by and allow him to commit atrocities like this!’ he snarled at Killigrew, before turning and hurrying up out of the cellar.
Killigrew released Price’s wrist, and the commandant chuckled. ‘Seems your friend has no stomach for this kind of work.’
‘Let’s just get it over with,’ said Killigrew, feeling sick.
Price nodded. ‘Take his gag off,’ he told one of the overseers. ‘Let’s see what he’s got to say for himself.’
The tube-gag was taken from Fallon’s mouth, and the Irishman at once spat a mouthful of bloo
d and saliva at the commandant’s face. Immediately one of the overseers smashed a wooden truncheon down on Fallon’s stomach. The Irishman bucked in his straps in agony and let out a sob.
‘Do that again, and next time I’ll aim for your knackers,’ snarled the overseer.
Price wiped his face with his handkerchief. ‘Now then, Mr Fallon – if that is your real name – perhaps you’d like to tell us where Captain Quested is taking Cusack on the Lucy Ann?’
‘Somewhere where you won’t be able to reach him!’ Even after several hours on the frame, there was still plenty of fight left in the Irishman.
Price smiled. ‘You don’t seem to grasp the seriousness of your situation. You’re on Norfolk Island now. There’s no God here: just John Giles Price. I could kill you – tell the authorities in Hobart Town that you died as a result of an accident – and no one would question it. But it’s not part of my plans that you should die. That would be too quick. But I will make you suffer, and the suffering’s going to last a long, long time. Unless, that is, you’d like to tell us where the Lucy Ann is bound.’
‘Go to the divil!’
Killigrew decided to try to reason with him. ‘Those six convicts who escaped with Cusack – you heard Price talking about them just now: a vicious coiner, a rapist, a cracksman, an army deserter, a swindler and a thug strangler. How long do you think Mrs Cafferty is going to last on a ship with men like that? How long do you think Cusack is, for that matter?’
‘You’d say anything to convince me to betray Cusack. That whole scene you just played out with Mr Strachan: an act for my benefit, I’ve no doubt.’
‘I’m going to get the truth out of you sooner or later, Fallon, so you might as well talk now,’ said Price. ‘Do you know what happens when a man is crushed into the scavenger’s daughter? Your internal organs will be massively damaged from having your knees jammed against your chest. Cramps will seize your limbs, and you’ll bleed from your mouth and your anus. Sooner or later you’ll forget your misplaced loyalty to Cusack.’
Killigrew and the Incorrigibles Page 17