Killigrew and the Incorrigibles

by Jonathan Lunn

  He moved to stand over her, swinging the tomahawk back over his shoulder, aiming a blow at her head. The razor-sharp head of the weapon glinted where it caught the sunlight.

  She kicked him in the kneecap. His leg crumpled and he went down on one knee, the swing of his tomahawk missing her face by barely an inch. She grabbed the haft of the tomahawk and tried to wrest it from him, but he pushed her back and pressed the haft against her throat, throttling her. She tried to knee him in the crotch, but he saw it coming and avoided the blow, before crouching over her with one knee across her legs, pinning them to the ground.

  Feeling herself losing consciousness, she gave up her futile efforts to push the tomahawk back and scrabbled on the ground beside her head, searching for a rock. Her groping fingers found a dead branch: not as thick and sturdy as she might have wished, but it would have to do.

  She slammed it against the side of his head with all her might. His eyes rolled up in his head and he slumped over her.

  She lay there for a few seconds, sobbing for breath. Then it occurred to her he might not have been alone. She pushed his body off. Fearing she might have killed him, she felt for a pulse in his wrist, and was almost disappointed to find one. She thought about finishing him off with a blow from his tomahawk, but did not have it in her to kill a helpless man. Perhaps that was why she had balked at killing Price. Instead she took the rifle – she noticed that the harpooner had carved weird, ethnic patterns on the wooden stock – and cartouche box.

  When her husband had learned his regiment had been ordered north with General Elphinstone’s Army of the Indus, they had laughingly said they would be entering bandit country, and she would have to learn to defend herself. At the time, it had been nothing more than a joke, an excuse for him to snuggle close to her as he taught her how to aim a rifle; not that he had ever needed an excuse. She thought she had long forgotten what he had taught her, but now she had a rifle in her hands it all came back to her. She took a cartridge from the cartouche box, tore off the top, poured the powder down the musket, wrapped the paper cartridge around the ball so it would grip the inside of the rifled barrel tightly, and rammed it home with the ramrod. Finally she took a percussion cap from the cartouche box and primed the breech. All in all the process took her less than two minutes; her husband would have been proud of her. Thus armed, she headed on through the trees, where blue sky ahead assured her she was not far from the coast.

  A hundred yards further on she saw two figures in white moving through the trees towards her. She froze, pressed herself up against the trunk of a tree, and raised the rifle to her shoulder – her wound was starting to sting furiously now, but she ignored it – and drew a bead on the nearest of the two men.

  ‘Halt, or I fire!’ she called.

  They froze, searching the trees with their eyes. Both carried rifles of their own. Both were Europeans, dressed in immaculate white uniforms with a nautical look to them. Whoever they were, they weren’t from the Lucy Ann.

  Then one of them spotted her. ‘It’s a white woman!’ he exclaimed in surprise.

  She lowered the rifle and stepped out from behind the tree. ‘You’re English?’

  One of the men nodded. ‘Able Seaman Appleby, at your service, miss. This here’s Able Seaman Owens.’

  ‘Royal Navy?’

  Owens shook his head. ‘No, the yacht Wanderer, miss. Is everything all right?’ Then he saw the blood on her shoulder. ‘Jesus! Pardon my French, miss – but you’re wounded!’

  She nodded. ‘It’s all right, I’m not going to faint. There are men after me. They kidnapped me… It’s a long story. You’re from that ship I saw anchored near here?’

  They both nodded. ‘The Wanderer, miss,’ said Appleby. ‘We came ashore to fetch water… when we heard shots—’

  ‘Never mind that now, Horace. Let’s get her safely on board and get that wound seen to.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Half an hour later, she was in a cabin on board the yacht. The Wanderer did not boast its own surgeon, but the chief mate, Irwin, knew enough about first aid to be able to swab down her bullet-graze and stitch it up. ‘There, now,’ he said when he had finished. ‘You lie down and rest easy. You’re safe now.’ He left the cabin, and less than a minute later there was a knock on the door.

  ‘Come in.’

  The man who entered was the fat, jolly-looking man who had asserted command of the situation as soon as she had been brought on board. ‘Just come to make sure you’re all right, miss, and there’s nothing I can get you?’ he offered.

  ‘It’s “ma’am”, not “miss”, she corrected him. ‘Mrs Philippa Cafferty. And I wouldn’t say no to a brandy.’

  ‘Brandy it is.’ He withdrew his head from the door. ‘Yarrow? Be so good as to fetch the brandy from the saloon.’ A bottle of five-star Hennessey was brought on a silver platter with a balloon glass, and she tossed back a generous measure in one, causing the fat man to arch an eyebrow.

  ‘By the way, I have not yet introduced myself. Thaddeus Thorpe, ma’am, at your service.’ She extended a hand, and he took a step inside the cabin, bowing as low as his impressive girth would allow to brush the back of her hand with his lips. ‘I have the honour to be owner and captain of this vessel. Forgive me, but did you say your name was Cafferty?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Good gracious me! You’re the young lady who was kidnapped on Norfolk Island by those rogues!’

  ‘You know about me?’ she asked incredulously.

  ‘Indeed I do, m’dear. Why, it was only the day before yesterday I had the honour of entertaining Commander Robertson and Lieutenant Killigrew of HMS Tisiphone at tea in this very bay!’

  ‘Kit… The Tisiphone’s been here?’

  ‘Indeed it has, ma’am. They’re looking for you even as we speak.’

  ‘Do you know where they’ve gone?’

  He nodded. ‘Commander Robertson was good enough to confide the details of his itinerary in me. He was bound for Aneiteium when he left this bay.’

  ‘Could you take me there?’

  ‘Of course. But that’s no good – the Tisiphone will have been and gone from Aneiteium by now. Let’s see, by now she’s probably at Port Resolution; but she’ll almost certainly have gone by the time we get there. No matter – after that she was bound for Thorpetown, the very place I happen to be bound myself.’

  ‘Thorpetown…’ she echoed. ‘You’re that Thaddeus Thorpe?’ Not that there could be two men in the whole world with that name, but she had not made the connection until he had named his trading station on Éfaté.

  He beamed with pleasure at having his name recognised. ‘I have that honour, ma’am. Commander Robertson thought there was a possibility the ship that took those fiends from Norfolk Island might be bound for Thorpetown; if we sail today, I’m sure the Tisiphone will still be there when we arrive.’

  A seaman appeared in the doorway behind her and knocked hesitantly on the open door. ‘Begging your pardon, sir, but there’s a ship coming round Tuurè Point.’

  Thorpe rounded on him irritably. ‘Damn it, Edington! Can’t you see I’m busy?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. It’s just… it’s the Lucy Ann. Captain Irwin said you’d want to know.’

  Mrs Cafferty stared at the seaman. ‘Did you say the Lucy Ann?’

  ‘Yes, miss.’

  ‘That’s the ship!’ she stammered. ‘The one that kidnapped me! That’s it! They must know I’m here.’

  Thorpe took her hand and patted it comfortingly. ‘Now don’t you worry about a thing, m’dear. Whatever roguish tricks those desperadoes may attempt, you’re quite safe on board the Wanderer. I dare say you were in no condition to notice when you were brought on board, but my yacht carries an impressive armament. Does the Lucy Ann have any cannon?’

  She shook her head. ‘Just small arms.’

  ‘Then there’s nothing they can do against the Wanderer.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘All the same, I think I should have a word with the
captain of this whaler…’

  She shook her head. ‘Mr Thorpe, I implore you to exercise extreme caution. Captain Quested is a ruthless man, if I am any judge of character; quite as dangerous as any of the convicts he freed from Norfolk Island.’

  ‘Now don’t you worry your pretty little head, m’dear. I may not look imposing, except perhaps in terms of bulk.’ He chuckled. ‘I dare say you might think that the only thing another man has to fear from me is the danger I might fall on him…’

  His self-deprecating humour brought a smile to her lips.

  ‘…But my career as an entrepreneur in some of the less civilised corners of the Empire has given me a great deal of experience of dealing with villains like this fellow Quested. He won’t attempt anything while the Lucy Ann lies under the Wanderer’s guns; and before I step on to his ship I’ll make it plain I’ve left orders with my chief mate that if I’m not safely back on board the Wanderer within half an hour, he has orders to open fire and sink the Lucy Ann.’ She was appalled. It was touching and at the same time pathetic: a middle-aged man risking his own life just to impress her. ‘Please, Mr Thorpe. I implore you. Let’s set sail now; I don’t know much about ships, but I’d say this yacht could outrun that filthy tub with ease. Why not set sail for Thorpetown at once?’

  ‘No, no, m’dear. Trust me: I know what I’m doing. A stern word from me will convince these bullies we’re not to be trifled with.’ And before she could protest further, he had gone from the cabin.

  She slumped back down on the bunk, too exhausted to do more. ‘They’ll rip him to shreds,’ she sighed.

  A couple of minutes later she heard the Wanderer’s jolly boat being lowered from its davits, and by kneeling on the bunk she was able to see two seamen row Thorpe across to where the Lucy Ann had anchored not fifty yards from the yacht. Most of the crew and the convicts were gathered on deck: she could not miss the massive figures of Gog and Magog, and Quested’s slight but oddly menacing figure standing at the entry port. She watched with her heart in her mouth as the jolly boat approached the whaler’s side. Quested said something – he was too far away for her to make out what – and then Thorpe stood up in the boat and levelled a rifle at the captain. Quested just laughed at this show of defiance, but something else Thorpe said made him frown.

  Then Thorpe had slung the rifle from his shoulder, and was climbing up the side ladder. Gog and Magog had to help him through the entry port; as a white knight coming to her rescue, he cut an unlikely figure. As soon as he was safely on deck, he unslung the rifle once more and levelled it at Quested, who raised his hand and his hook slowly. Then the captain headed for the after hatch, and Thorpe followed him down.

  Mrs Cafferty shook her head in disbelief. Was he trying to arrest the crew of the Lucy Ann single-handed?

  * * *

  In the Lucy Ann’s great cabin, Quested rounded angrily on Thorpe and tapped him on the chest with his hook. ‘Now would you mind telling me what in tarnation is going on?’

  ‘I’ll tell you what’s going on, Captain Quested. Just as soon as you tell me what you think you’re playing at, kidnapping Irish revolutionaries from Norfolk Island?’

  ‘Irish revolutionaries? How the hell do you know about that?’

  ‘Perfectly simple, Captain. HMS Tisiphone was here in this very bay not two days ago, seeking you.’

  ‘The Tisiphone was here? How did they know I’d be coming this way? Hell, I didn’t even know it myself until a few hours ago!’

  ‘They had no notion. They’ve calculated that if you’re bound for California then the swiftest route is to head through New Caledonia and the New Hebrides, and they’re touching at every trading station in these islands in the hope they’ll find you at one of them. This seemed like an obvious location in which to commence their search; so obvious, indeed, that they didn’t trouble to leave any men here to ambush you. How fortunate for you, Captain, that you’re not as clever as they seem to think you are!’

  Quested stared at the carvings on the stock of the rifle Thorpe was carrying. He snatched it from him to get a better look. ‘Where the hell did you get this?’

  ‘Do you recognise it, by any chance?’

  ‘Sure. It belongs to one of my men. He’s on the island, searching for a hostage that managed to slip away from us. How did you get it?’

  ‘Mrs Cafferty was carrying it when two of my people found her on the island.’

  ‘Where is she now?’

  ‘On board the Wanderer.’

  ‘Then you’d better hand her over, and I can get out of here.’

  ‘I think not, Captain.’

  Smiling, Quested prodded Thorpe in the gut with the rifle. ‘That woman can identify the Lucy Ann as the ship that rescued Devin Cusack from Norfolk Island; and me as her captain. If you think I’m going to let her go—’

  ‘You’ve already been identified,’ Thorpe snapped impatiently. ‘Oh, yes! Commander Robertson and Lieutenant Killigrew know exactly what ship they’re looking for.’

  ‘Who the hell told them that? You?’

  ‘Don’t be preposterous. I didn’t know a thing about it until the day before yesterday, when Robertson and Killigrew came on board my ship for tea. No, Quested. You told them.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘By leaving one of your irons behind at Norfolk Island; stamped with the name of your ship, you dunderhead!’

  ‘Damn that fool Jeffries! I told him to make sure there was nothing on that boat that could identify it as belonging to the Lucy Ann.’ Quested sighed. ‘Speaking of Killigrew, what the hell were you doing back in Hobart Town, helping one of my men to desert?’

  ‘I had no notion that wretched kanaka was one of your men. When Killigrew brought him into the Harbour View Hotel, I saw a perfect opportunity to reassure Hobart Town society that I was anything but the brutal abuser of island labour that unpleasant business two years ago made me appear to be.’

  Quested chuckled. ‘People will believe anything, won’t they?’

  ‘Robertson and Killigrew believe it; which is why I’m not going to hand over Mrs Cafferty to you. So far no one has any reason to suspect that you and I are in any way connected; I’d much rather keep things that way, if it’s all the same with you.’

  ‘Aye, well, that’s about your speed, isn’t it? You don’t like to get your hands dirty, but you’ve no exception to profiting from the dirty work I’ve done for you in the past.’

  ‘Money has no smell, Captain Quested. You of all people should appreciate that. Your previous association with me has not exactly left you in the gutter; and it seems to me that once again we find ourselves in a position to be of assistance to one another.’

  ‘Sure we are. You help me by handing over the woman, and I’ll help you by not blowing your fat head off.’

  Thorpe sighed. ‘You still haven’t grasped the nature of your predicament, have you? Pour me a libation, and I’ll spell it out in words that even you can comprehend.’

  ‘That mean you’re going to stop using all those high-falutin, long-winded words you’re so fond of?’ Quested crossed to the sideboard and poured out a sherry, and a rye whiskey for himself, clamping each bottle in turn under his left arm so he could remove the stoppers. He handed the sherry to Thorpe, and then went back for the whiskey.

  ‘Thank you. Now, you can dismiss all thoughts of murdering Mrs Cafferty; there are no facts she is in a position to communicate to the authorities which they are not already in possession of. It will be of no benefit to you; indeed, quite the opposite, I should say. Kill ten thousand natives, and most Royal Naval officers will shrug it off—’

  ‘Not Killigrew,’ snarled Quested. ‘I know his sort. Goddamned self-righteous, nigger-loving liberal. When I catch up with him…’

  Thorpe waved him to silence. ‘As for rescuing a man like Cusack, they’ll probably secretly admire you for it, no matter what their feelings about the man himself and his politics. Come to think of it, since when did you concern yourself with the fate
of Young Ireland? The last time I saw you, you informed me you were going back to whaling.’

  ‘I don’t give a damn about Young Ireland. But it so happens that the Irish Directory is paying me a cool ten thousand dollars to rescue Cusack.’

  Thorpe raised his eyebrows. ‘Ten thousand dollars, eh? A tidy sum.’

  ‘Half in advance, the remainder in cash when I deliver him to ’Frisco. So you can understand why I was tempted. That, and the pleasure of putting one over on the Limeys.’

  ‘Hmm. Well, as I was saying, kill a thousand natives, and most Royal Naval officers will turn a blind eye. But kill one English woman – especially a young and attractive widow, like Mrs Cafferty – and they’ll hunt you down to the ends of the earth. Especially your friend Killigrew. He didn’t say as much, but from our last interview I got the distinct impression he’d like to renew his acquaintance with you every bit as much as you would with him, and for similar reasons. But if Mrs Cafferty turns up alive and relatively unscathed, there’s a chance Mr Killigrew will be prepared to forget his quarrel with you.’

  ‘Aye? Well, maybe I’m not prepared to forget my quarrel with him.’

  ‘Will you please do me the courtesy of being silent for one moment, and attend to what I have to say? I’m endeavouring to provide you with assistance here. I require you to collect a cargo of sandalwood for me.’

  ‘By all means. Just as soon as I’ve taken Cusack back to ’Frisco and collected the five thousand dollars I’m owed.’

  Thorpe shook his head. ‘I don’t mean in a few months’ time. I mean now. Timing is absolutely crucial in this. I know that this time two years ago the bottom had dropped out of the sandalwood market: too many traders in these islands had flooded the market in Shanghai. But a great deal has occurred since then. After you left, news came through of the discovery of gold in California. A good many of our rivals also dropped out, deciding there was less risk and more profit in prospecting. The sandalwood trade’s been slowed to a trickle, and I have reliable intelligence that sandalwood stocks in China are running low. If I can dispatch a cargo this month, by the time it reaches Shanghai the price should have risen to a record high. We should be able to realise a six-hundred-per-cent profit on the transaction. But it has to be now. Once the other traders realise that the price is creeping back up…’