Killigrew and the Incorrigibles

by Jonathan Lunn

  Reluctant to drink from such a filthy vessel, Killigrew used the mug to gesture at the flowers. ‘Is this what you were doing on Erromanga? Collecting orchids?’

  ‘Yeah. Hey, don’t go getting any ideas about stealing them, mate. They’re my orchids. I found ’em.’

  ‘Believe me, Captain Paddon, I’m an officer of the Royal Navy. The last thing I have on my mind right now is stealing your orchids.’

  ‘I’ve heard that one before,’ snorted Paddon. He moved a couple of plant pots from a seat, sat down, and pushed some charts off the table to clear a space for his feet. ‘So, Quested’s back, is he? And working for Thorpe.’

  ‘So it would seem. What do you know about it?’

  ‘Nothing I can prove, but I’ve had my suspicions for years now. Quested met Thorpe in Sydney about five years ago, when he was a whaling captain – and a damned good one, by all accounts – and Thorpe owned one of the largest fleets of whaling ships under Capricorn. I say Thorpe owned a whaling fleet: he bought up a lot of ships when there was a slump in the whaling trade. What he couldn’t get for them was crews. That’s why he approached Quested. Quested’s got a hell of a reputation in New Bedford as a whaling skipper, and in whaling terms that’s an international reputation. Thorpe figured if he could get Quested to join his fleet, others would soon follow. But the whole thing fell through thanks to Thorpe’s financial mismanagement, and he started losing interest in whaling, the same as he lost interest in agriculture within a couple of years of buying up half of New South Wales… the half that turned out to be nothing but desert, that is.

  ‘After the whaling venture went up the spout, Thorpe took a look at how much money I was making in the sandalwood trade and decided to try to move in on my territory. Well, it’s a free ocean… hell, that’s the main reason I came out here. Thorpe’s the one that can’t handle a little competition. He’s been ingratiating himself with the missionaries ever since he started trying to build that crazy white elephant he calls Thorpetown. The missionaries can’t stand me because I’ve got more influence over the natives than they have. It never occurs to blokes like the Reverend Mr Geddie that might not be entirely unconnected with the fact that I treat the natives with respect. I don’t go round telling them that all their customs are sinful, demand that they give up drinking and dancing, or force them to wear second-hand clothes which turn out to be lousy with smallpox. But that’s another story.

  ‘Quested left off whaling for a couple of years and took to sandalwooding instead. There was no obvious connection between him and Thorpe, but if he wasn’t working for Thorpe, who was he working for? For a time people thought maybe he was working for me, but I soon straightened them out on that account! About that time natives started disappearing from Tanna. The finger of suspicion was immediately pointed at Thorpe because a couple of natives turned up as indentured labourers on his estates in New South Wales, complaining that they’d been lied to about the working conditions they could expect. Well, Thorpe had the paperwork to prove it was all nice and legal. He’d cheated those poor bastards, right enough, saying they were the ones who’d misunderstood the terms and conditions, which had clearly been set out in plain English.’

  ‘A language they can’t read.’

  ‘Exactly. The courts said it was the natives’ fault they hadn’t made sure they’d understood the terms and conditions before making their mark. It left a pretty sour taste in the mouths of Sydney society, but no one could prove Thorpe had acted illegally. That was when HMS Dido was sent out here to the New Hebrides to investigate things. Must’ve been a couple of years ago. Cap’n Maxwell didn’t investigate any more than he had to. He was terrified of being eaten by cannibals, so he didn’t even land at half the islands he should have visited. I tried speaking to him, but after Geddie got at him, Maxwell wasn’t going to listen to me. The natives were still disappearing from Tanna, but since they weren’t turning up on any of Thorpe’s estates everyone assumed they were just getting killed in wars between the tribes, and they were trying to put the blame on the white man in the hope of getting some kind of compensation.

  ‘It took me a while to put two and two together and realise that Quested was kidnapping Tannese warriors and selling them to the Erromanga men in exchange for sandalwood. But I didn’t have any proof, and by then Quested must’ve decided that things were getting a little too dangerous, what with the Royal Navy starting to show an interest in these islands. So he went back to whaling. I couldn’t tell you what brought him back now, after two years.’

  ‘I can,’ said Killigrew. ‘Devin Cusack.’

  ‘Who’s he?’

  ‘An Irish rebel.’

  Paddon frowned, and then his brow cleared and he nodded. ‘Oh, yeah, I think I remember reading something about that somewhere. Young Ireland. Where does he fit into all this?’

  ‘It’s a long story; the essence of it is that some of Cusack’s friends in the United States hired Quested to rescue Cusack from Norfolk Island. My ship – HMS Tisiphone – was there at the time, and we’ve been on their trail ever since.’

  Paddon raised his eyebrows. ‘Quested freed Devin Cusack from Norfolk Island? That’s something to be said in his favour. Don’t get me wrong, but from what I’ve heard about the way you British have been treating the Irish these past few years, then fellers like Cusack have every right to have a grievance.’

  ‘And what are you, if not British?’

  Paddon raised his mug in a toast. ‘Citizen of the world, mate.’

  ‘Hm. Well, it’s not as simple as that. When Cusack escaped from Norfolk Island on board the Lucy Ann ten days ago, he took six of the most ruthless convicts in the British penal system with him. Incorrigibles, Captain Paddon.’

  ‘Convicts, eh? I remember we had half a dozen convicts escape from Norfolk Island about six years ago. They got as far as the Loyalty Islands, I seem to recall.’ He grinned savagely in the light of the oil-lamp that swung overhead. ‘Cannibals et ’em.’

  ‘They also took a woman hostage.’

  The smile faded from Paddon’s face. ‘A shaler? That ain’t right,’ he growled, in a tone of voice which boded ill for anyone who harmed a woman when he was around. ‘She’s on board the Lucy Ann?’

  ‘From what we can make out, she managed to escape from the Lucy Ann at the Isle of Pines, and she was picked up by the Wanderer.’

  ‘Thorpe’s yacht? He’ll have taken her to Thorpetown, then.’

  ‘Which is exactly where the Lucy Ann’s bound now. There’s only one thing I can’t understand: the last time we saw our ship, the Tisiphone, she was bound for Thorpetown. Why would Thorpe arrange to meet Quested at Thorpetown when he knew the Tisiphone would be there?’

  ‘Does your captain know Quested and Thorpe are friends?’

  ‘I don’t believe so.’

  Paddon grunted. ‘Then I wouldn’t put it past that slimy bastard Thorpe to find some way to get rid of the Tisiphone long enough for him and Quested to conclude whatever business it is they have together at Thorpetown.’

  ‘That means we haven’t got much time,’ said Killigrew. ‘Quested’s going to be in a hurry to sail from Thorpetown before the Tisiphone gets back.’

  ‘Well, the way I see it… either we’re overestimating Thorpe’s intelligence, and the Lucy Ann’s on its way to a harbour where your ship is waiting for them; in which case it’ll be all done and dusted long before we get there…’

  ‘Or?’

  Paddon grinned. ‘Or it’s all down to us to save the day, mate.’

  * * *

  Mrs Cafferty made her way to where the Acushnet was moored alongside the jetty opposite the try-works the following morning after breakfast. The whaler had arrived with a whale carcass chained to each side, and her master – a burly, bearded, barrel-chested bear of a man named Captain Valentine Pease – had regaled Thorpe and Mrs Cafferty with the story of how he had caught and killed them both a few hours earlier using the new Allen bomb-guns. Being so close to Éfaté at the t
ime, he had decided to try-out the blubber at the Thorpetown try-works rather than do it at sea, before resuming his voyage.

  ‘By all means,’ Thorpe had said. ‘Things are a little quiet here at the moment – I expect most of the whaling fleets are at the whaling grounds off the Japans at present – and we’ll welcome your company.’ But for some reason the trader had not aired the possibility of the Acushnet taking Mrs Cafferty back to civilisation: just one more thing out of many which had started to puzzle her over the last few hours. His silence on the subject had made her feel it would be wise to hold her own peace… for the time being.

  The whale carcasses had been winched up on to the slipway beside the jetty, and it was from there that the Acushnet’s crew were busily engaged in slicing off the blubber, chopping it up, mincing it and melting it down in the try-pots. The process had started late last night and now, nearly twelve hours later, they seemed no nearer completion, even though they had been working through the night. The stench seemed to have permeated the whole of Thorpetown. Gagging at the stink, Mrs Cafferty approached one of the Acushnet’s boatsteerers, who was cutting off the blubber with a long-handled cutting-in spade with a flat-edged, razor-sharp head.

  ‘Excuse me? Sir? Could you tell me where I might find Captain Pease?’

  Like two of the boatsteerers on the Lucy Ann, the man she addressed obviously hailed from one of the Polynesian islands, but he spoke English with the nasal twang of a New Englander. ‘Well, you might find him in his cabin, missy.’ He jerked his head at the ship.

  ‘May I go on board?’

  ‘Surely.’

  She climbed the gangplank. The upper deck was deserted – nearly all the crew were working ashore – and there was no one to challenge her as she made her way down the after hatch. She knocked on the door to Pease’s cabin.

  ‘Come in!’ he boomed from inside.

  She entered. He looked up in surprise, not unmixed with delight. ‘Why, the lovely Mrs Cafferty! What can I do for you, ma’am?’

  ‘I’ll come straight to the point, Captain Pease. I was wondering if I could impose upon you to provide me with transport from this place?’

  ‘I’d be delighted to, but… I haven’t told you where I’m headed yet. To tell the truth, I ain’t sure as I’ve made up my own mind on that account.’

  ‘It’s of no consequence, Captain Pease. Just as long as you take me away from here.’

  ‘Why? Whatever is the matter? I thought you were waiting for the Tisiphone to return?’

  ‘If she ever does. Captain Pease, may I confide in you?’

  ‘Why, surely, little lady. I should consider it an honour.’

  ‘How well do you know Mr Thorpe?’

  ‘Not at all. Why, I never clapped eyes on the man before yesterday evening.’

  ‘Captain Pease, it is my suspicion that Mr Thorpe has not been entirely honest with me. You recall last night I told you over dinner how it was that, when I first went aboard the Wanderer at the Isle of Pines, Mr Thorpe went on board the Lucy Ann and confronted Captain Quested?’

  ‘Indeed. I thought that was a mighty brave thing to do, too.’

  ‘Really? I considered it foolhardy… at the time. Since then, I’ve started to suspect that it was neither. Mr Thorpe was never in any danger for the simple reason that he and Captain Quested are in league with one another.’

  Pease arched his bushy eyebrows. ‘You think so?’

  ‘I’m sure of it. But the devil of it is that I cannot prove it.’

  ‘What makes you think—’

  ‘Yesterday, as we approached this island, Mr Thorpe invited me into the saloon on board the Wanderer for a cup of coffee. It struck me as odd at the time, because until then he had never served any hot beverage on board other than tea. Shortly after that, I passed out, and by the time I had regained consciousness we had arrived here in Thorpetown and I had been put to bed in Mr Thorpe’s house. In retrospect, I believe the reason he chose coffee that day was because it has a strong, bitter taste which covers a multitude of sins.’

  ‘You think he drugged you?’

  ‘I’m quite certain of it.’

  ‘But to what end?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but I would guess that the Tisiphone was actually here when we arrived… as Thorpe knew it would be. He drugged me so I would not see it, and then told Commander Robertson some invented story that would require the Tisiphone to steam from here at once. Commander Robertson is an intelligent man, but he had no reason to suspect that Mr Thorpe might be lying to him, or that I might be an unwitting prisoner, drugged on board the Wanderer.’

  ‘I guess it’s possible,’ Pease said dubiously. ‘But if Thorpe’s in cahoots with Quested, why in tarnation didn’t he just hand you over to Quested at the Isle of Pines?’

  ‘And risk exposing the fact that they were in league? Besides, Quested needed me as a hostage. What better way of keeping me captive somewhere where no one would ever think to look? Somewhere I would not try to escape from again, because Mr Thorpe thought he could fool me into thinking I wasn’t even a prisoner.’

  ‘I’m astounded, ma’am. To think that one man could be capable of such monstrous duplicity…’

  ‘I thought it was rather clever of me, personally,’ said Thorpe, coming through the door with Mr Irwin. The chief mate of the Wanderer had a pistol in his hand and he pointed it at Mrs Cafferty. ‘But it seems I made the error of underestimating your intelligence, m’dear. Whatever am I going to do with you now?’

  ‘My advice to you would be to give yourself up,’ Mrs Cafferty said calmly. ‘Whatever wild-goose chase you managed to send the Tisiphone on, I don’t imagine it will keep her away for more than a couple of days.’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I expect her to return at dawn tomorrow, whereupon I shall be forced to apologise most profusely to Commander Robertson for having sent him on a fool’s errand. As an experienced seaman, I’m sure he’ll appreciate how wild rumours can arise from nothing in the far-off corners of the empire, where any news is seized at as gospel truth. But by then the Lucy Ann will have been and gone, and there will be nothing left to connect me with Captain Quested. Including you, m’dear, I’m sorry to say.’

  ‘If you are indeed in league with Quested, then I don’t doubt you are capable of cold-bloodedly murdering a defenceless woman,’ she retorted coldly. ‘Although I expect you’ll leave your dirty work to Quested himself; not for the first time, I suspect. However, I doubt you have the ability to murder Captain Pease here along with all the crew of this vessel.’

  ‘True. Fortunately for me, I am not the only one in this room guilty of what the good captain refers to as “monstrous duplicity”.’

  Pease shrugged. ‘Sorry, ma’am. I’ve been working for Mr Thorpe for five years now.’

  She felt utterly defeated: outmanoeuvred and betrayed on all sides.

  ‘You’ve only yourself to blame,’ said Thorpe. ‘Had you not been so suspicious, I could have arranged it so that you did not see the Lucy Ann arrive, and then handed you safely over to Commander Robertson on his return here tomorrow. He left so precipitously yesterday, even he cannot argue that he hardly gave me time to mention that you were asleep in a cabin on board the Wanderer. Once the Lucy Ann had left here tonight, we would no longer have had any need of you for a hostage.’ He glanced over his shoulder at Irwin. ‘Take her up to the house.’

  Irwin gestured with the pistol. ‘Come on.’

  She meekly went out of the door first… and then whirled, slamming it shut on Irwin’s forearm as he followed her out with the pistol. He cried out in agony and the pistol fell to the floor. She snatched it up and levelled it at Irwin as he emerged, crimson-faced, from the cabin. He froze.

  ‘Put the gun down, m’dear,’ Thorpe called over Irwin’s shoulder. ‘There’s nowhere you can run.’

  ‘No? What about the trade house at Havannah Harbour, on the north side of the island?’

  ‘Please don’t be foolish. It’s fourteen miles over rou
gh country.’

  She was grinning with desperation now. ‘The same kind of rough country I crossed on the Isle of Pines?’ she asked, backing towards the companion ladder that led up on deck.

  Thorpe’s gaze flicked past her shoulder and his expression turned to one of relief. She whirled and found Quested standing immediately behind her. He caught her right hand by the wrist, twisting her arm until she dropped the pistol, and laid his hook against her throat.

  * * *

  As the Tisiphone steamed into Anelghowhat anchorage between Aneiteium and Inyeug, Yelverton levelled a telescope over the gunwale to where some figures played cricket on the beach to the right of the trading station. ‘For a man who was grievously wounded, sir, his lordship seems to have staged a remarkable recovery,’ the master commented drily.

  Robertson snatched the telescope from him to see for himself, and raised it to his eye in time to see Lord Hartcliffe field the ball at silly mid-off. The staff of the trading station were at the bat, Hartcliffe and ten of his men fielding, and the Reverend Mr Geddie seemed to be umpiring. The lieutenant held the ball aloft, and Robertson saw his lips frame the word: ‘Howzat!’ Then as if guessing that his commanding officer’s eyes were upon him, he turned to the Tisiphone and waved and grinned like an idiot.

  ‘Tell Mr Muir to stop her,’ Robertson instructed one of the midshipmen.

  ‘Aye, aye, sir.’

  ‘Shall I pass the order to drop anchor, sir?’ asked the boatswain.

  ‘Belay that, Mr Darrow. Lower my gig to have Lord Hartcliffe brought back on board, and then the pinnace to start ferrying his men back on board.’

  Ten minutes later, Lord Hartcliffe was clambering up through the entry port. ‘You caught them, sir?’

  ‘What makes you say that, First?’

  ‘I thought you were going to stay at Thorpetown for two weeks?’

  ‘I was informed that you had caught them, First; but that you had been badly wounded in the process.’