It was James’s turn to be sharp, but he kept his voice low, for he feared to scare the man. “Matters more important than murder, Mr Temple?”
The older man looked flustered and confused, edging still closer to the street door.
“Why, yes. I must go to the site of my new house, which is at this very moment at a critical stage in its construction. Believe me, sir, if you knew what blackguards builders are you would put nothing before a constant check on their labours. And I am, gentlemen, already late for the installation of my carved oak staircase.”
“Your staircase be damned, sir,” said James, again without raising his voice.
The eyebrows shot up and the wig slipped a touch as Temple jerked his head, plainly accustomed to a greater degree of respect.
“Does the name Tobias Bertles mean anything to you?” asked Harry.
The look of impatience was back. “Of course it does.”
“A ship’s captain who sailed from here, if I’m not mistaken?”
That got a sharp nod, but his hand again reached out to open the door. It stopped midway as Harry barked at him.
“Then we are here to report his murder, Mr Temple. Not only that, but the unnatural death of his entire crew, who I take it also came from Deal.”
“And his ship, the Planet, burnt to the waterline,” added James.
Temple’s scowl deepened. “Bertles, murdered?”
“Yes,” replied Harry, relieved that at last he was getting through. “In the most shocking, cruel manner. Skinned alive, with his crew hung from the yards above his head.”
The magistrate’s eyes narrowed. “They were aboard ship?”
“Naturally, sir.”
“And where did all this take place?”
“At sea, sir; I cannot be certain of the exact location, but let us assume it was midway between here and the coast of France.”
The door was open in a flash, a look of relief coursing across his face. “Bless my soul, that’s nought to do with me, sirs. Now I really must attend to my staircase.”
“Then who is it to do with?” yelled Harry to Temple’s retreating back.
The magistrate stopped and spun round, his square face even redder with anger. “Try the Admiralty, sir, I only attend to felonious behaviour in the St George’s parish of Deal.”
James had been warned by Harry that the navy would very likely do nothing without specific orders, but his brother insisted that it was an avenue that needed to be explored, if only to make matters clear. But Harry balked at any attempt to involve Admiral Duncan, who had command of the fleet stationed in the Downs. Duncan had known their father well, and both senior officers, vying for lucrative commands, had cordially disliked each other. Thomas Ludlow’s sons would get no welcome and precious little help from that quarter. Instead he directed James to the shore installation, a more permanent local feature than a fleet, which could up anchor and be off at the bang of a signal gun.
The Port Admiral, McBride, was up in London for the parliamentary session, leaving a Captain Billings in command of the naval yard. He was certainly more amenable, if no more helpful, than Temple. He listened carefully, without interrupting. He offered them a glass of Madeira and some tipsy cake his wife had made, and as he did so he put the case firmly back in the bailiwick of Mr Magistrate Temple.
“Mutiny and piracy are our purview, gentlemen,” he said, talking awkwardly, for his wife’s cake was crumbly. “But with plain murder, I cannot see that the navy is involved.”
“Is the taking and burning of ships not piracy?” asked James, allowing himself a nibble of cake for the sake of politeness.
“Why certainly, if you shift cargo out of them before you set your torch. But I believe as you described it, sir, this was not the case. Besides, it is plain from your tale that both sets of rogues were intent on smuggling, which puts them outside the law in any case.”
“You seem to forget, Captain, that the very same man tried to drown us, and we are entirely innocent.”
Billings looked away at that, as though the idea of entire innocence was uncomfortable. “That is most certainly the magistrate’s responsibility.”
“He maintains that it is not, since it happened at sea.”
Billings sighed. “It is exceedingly burdensome, the way others seek to load the navy with their tasks. As if fighting the French were not enough.”
“So how would you suggest we proceed, sir?” asked Harry, well aware that James was getting nowhere.
The captain sat for a moment, thinking, though whether he was concerned with their problem or confounding the French wasn’t clear. Then his eyes lit up. “A body would turn the trick, sir, especially if he was a local man, positively identified. I recall your saying that Bertles was such. Temple would have to act in that event. Even the detached head would suffice. What a pity the lady threw it overboard. It would have served your case admirably.”
“Failing that?” asked Harry, impatiently.
“You could approach the Preventative Officers, since the whole thing clearly involves smuggling. They are based at Sandown Castle. But I cannot see that they will undertake an investigation into an act of murder. They suffer too much from that themselves. They can’t even hang on to the goods they seize. The villains shot a soldier not a month back.”
“Captain Latham told us of that,” said James.
“But did he tell you contraband disappeared, never to be found? The Preventatives’ task is near impossible. Why, some years back, one young fellow was buried alive in a cellar not half a mile from this very room. I even recall his name, it was so shockin’. Charlie Taverner. To this day they have yet to apprehend his murderers. If you recount details of a smuggler’s demise, in however horrible a fashion, the Preventatives are more likely to cry ‘good riddance’ than take any action to find the culprit.”
James slammed down his plate, sending bits of cake all over the polished surface of Billings’s desk. “There must be some authority that can act.”
The captain frowned at seeing his wife’s culinary efforts so ill used. “Even if it did take place at sea, I’d say it’s a matter for the Lord Chancellor.”
“Not personally, surely,” replied James with deliberate sarcasm. “I happen to know that he hates water.”
The remark plainly missed its mark, for Billings didn’t respond, either to the name or the gibe alluding to Thurlow’s love of the bottle. The idea had taken root, and his voice became quite excited as he pursued the idea. “The Lord Chancellor could then order the requisite investigation. Force Temple to act, don’t you see. You will of course require affidavits sworn before a notary by all the passengers, stating what they saw and heard.”
Billings picked up the plate from the centre of the desk, took another mouthful of cake, spitting crumbs in all directions as he concluded. It was hard to decide if the cake, not being properly set, added to his sudden loss of verve.
“But even then I fear Mr Temple will insist on a corpse. He is, as you may have already noted, a trifle tardy in the execution of his duties. Even the might of the Lord Chancellor might fail to stir him. More cake?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
BILLINGS PROVED CORRECT. The magistrate having been run to earth again, all his misgivings about the lack of a body were borne out. Though Temple was much more courteous: as he informed them with evident delight his staircase had been fitted with extraordinary ease.
“Sound carpentry and good oak, sir. That is the secret. Plus a wary eye on the owner’s part.”
“Well, sir,” said James, “now that the nation can safely ascend your stairs, perhaps you will be so kind as to advise us of what to do?”
Temple was still gazing wistfully toward a future full of set bricks and dried mortar, of social gatherings in his glittering upstairs drawing-room, so his reply was a touch absentminded.
“Advise you, sir? What about?”
Harry snapped at that, convinced the man was being deliberately obtuse. “The trifling mat
ter of a dozen murders, plus the attempt on our lives.”
Temple looked at him, as if struggling to concentrate. “Oh, yes, I recall it now. You said Bertles had been done in.”
“Along with his crew. And you would blench if I told you how in proper detail.”
“So Bertles has finally met his maker,” said Temple, shaking his head and smiling. “A rum cove, to my mind, who would do mischief for its own sake. Not that he couldn’t make you laugh, sir. No, he was good at that. I dare say the Devil will chuckle at Bertles, even as he singes him.”
Temple’s look changed then and the smile evaporated, lest he be involved in an association. He carried on hurriedly. “Not that I knew him well, you understand. Our relationship was not personal.”
“Does he have next of kin?” asked Harry.
Temple rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “There was a wife, but I seem to remember she died of consumption.”
“What about the families of the crew?”
“Since I don’t know who they are, it would be mere speculation to say.”
Even James’s well-honed air of indifference found such a lack of curiosity unbearable. “They should be sought out, sir, just as surely as they should be told.”
Temple shrugged, unaware of any rebuke. “Oh, I dare say they already know; news gets around the town amazing quick.”
“Then perhaps they, or the dead men’s friends, might have some knowledge of who committed this foul deed.”
Temple’s indifference was insufferable, for his response to James’s suggestion was another shrug of the shoulders. Nor did his words ring with any urgency.
“They may well. And if they care to bring me proof of a crime committed outside my area, I would most certainly pass it on to the proper authority.”
“And who might that be?”
“I told you, sir, the navy.”
“We have already approached Captain Billings at the navy yard. He was quite firm that it was none of his concern.”
Temple shook his head sadly. “Is it any wonder the country is in its present condition? No one seems willing to stir themselves, even to undertake their proper duties.”
They’d fought hard to keep their tempers, both brothers knowing that tact was necessary with such a person as Temple. But they could not contain themselves in the face of such patent hypocrisy. Both protested at once, but Harry’s voice, louder through practice, overbore James. The small panes of glass in the leaded windows shook at the sound.
“One would scarce need to look further than this room, sir. I have heard Deal described as a place without the benefit of law. Exposure to your company leaves me no doubt where the cause of that lies.”
Temple half rose out of the chair to protest. James finally got to say his piece. “You will prosper in your new home, sir, for I have it on excellent authority that every brick has a layer of criminality to hold it in place.”
That knocked the magistrate back into his chair. “What do you mean, sir?”
“I allude, sir, to the source of your materials. Free bricks must please you. Never mind if the military barracks are never completed. It is plain that you consort with thieves for your own personal gain, instead of apprehending them.”
Temple recovered somewhat, even though the blood rushed into his cheeks. He pointed a square-tipped finger at James Ludlow.
“That is a calumny, sir, for which, if you repeat it, I shall see you beggared. For there is, thank God, a law of slander. And how dare you come in here and harangue me.”
James, having got the floor from Harry, would not yield it. “You deserve it, sir. You are content to let murderers escape rather than bestir yourself.”
“I have already told you that the case lies outside my jurisdiction. My duties end at the shoreline. This is not London, sir, with your fancy Bow Street johnnies nabbing a villain in time for a piece in the next day’s Register. This is the real world, where a man enforces the law as those who pay see fit, which in Deal parish does not run to much. I have two watchmen on my book, a sergeant-at-mace and his deputy, whose sole concern is to avoid paying for their nightly drink. They are served in such endeavours by a blind eye, not zeal.”
“There are widows and orphans out there, sir. Will the parish support them?” asked Harry.
Temple half stood again, fists on the desk, his square face suffused with anger.
“How dare you, sir! This parish is second to none in its care of mariners’ dependants. It is only out of the same well of goodness that I’ve tolerated your presence so far, Mr Ludlow. You are a stranger in this town. But Tobias Bertles was not, nor was his trade. All that carrying of passengers, which he brayed to the rafters, was so much eyewash. He and his men knew what risks they ran.”
“From the Preventatives and excisemen, Mr Temple, whom I’m sure do not stoop to murder and the burning of ships.”
“Don’t mention Preventatives and excisemen to me, sir. They are a confounded nuisance. Why, they disturb the peace more than those they’re set to apprehend. There’s murder in the streets when they seize goods and a near riot every time they nab someone. And they’re more like to be the victim than the felon, which leads to no end of work and complication. Had Bertles faced his end ashore, or even if you’d fetched his body back, I might have taken an interest. But you have not. In truth, I don’t even know whether the story you have recounted is mere fancy!”
James grabbed Harry’s arm, pulling him away from the desk. His brother was coming mighty close to fetching the older man a buffet around the ears. The action seemed to calm him. He turned away from the magistrate. “We will do no good here, James, for Mr Temple is a mere placeman.”
Temple exploded. “How dare you, sir!”
Harry’s voice was like ice as he turned slowly to face the older man. “A placeman, sir, whose sole concern is for a heavy pocket. And rest assured, Mr Temple, that I shall repeat that on the street. Sue me if you wish, for I look forward to hearing you list your contrary achievements before a higher court. Good day to you.”
It took a good deal of claret, liberally poured by an amused Latham, to calm the Ludlow brothers.
“I cannot say that it amuses me,” said James.
“Perhaps I am become accustomed, Mr Ludlow, for I cannot pretend even to mild surprise.”
Mr Wentworth was as confused as the Ludlows. For once his carping seemed well placed. “Surely there must be some authority responsible for piracy and the like. What about Trinity House?”
Harry patiently explained that the Downs, its wardens and pilots, had liberties guaranteed by Act of Parliament. The writ of Trinity House had no effect in these parts.
“It is the navy,” he continued, “for only they have the means to catch criminals on the high seas. The Revenue have but one cutter, and that is moored at Dover. But how do we get them to respond, that’s the rub. Short of a complaint directly to the Admiralty, I cannot see that we will achieve much. They would need to be directed to act. If the magistrate bestirred himself and issued a general warrant, Duncan would have to do something, for fear of repercussions. But if Temple sits on his hands, so will they. Their attitude will be the same. Felons have killed each other, and good riddance. We are all still alive, so where is the harm.”
Wentworth made a rather grand gesture, his hand sweeping the anchorage outside the window, full of men-o’-war. “But we have ships in abundance here. Surely their task is to make the seas safe?”
“Against the enemy, Mr Wentworth, against the French fleet. They will chase after a smuggler on the way to France, for he’s likely to be carrying gold. The officers and crew receive their share of that from the Exchequer, in the same manner as if they’d taken a prize. But the chasing of contrabandiers, beyond that, is not their concern. For instance, they will not seek to apprehend one on the way home, regardless of how much brandy he has aboard.”
Pender came into the parlour and walked towards the window seat. Harry had sent him to to search out the Preventative Office
rs, but he had to report they were not at their stations, with no one at Sandown Castle prepared to cast an opinion as to where they’d gone, and he sent him back to the warmth of the kitchen.
“You cannot tell me their only care is for money,” said Wentworth, resuming the conversation. The shock he exhibited was overdone, especially from a man who was clearly, on the evidence of even such a short acquaintance, both parsimonious and greedy.
“That is, I’m afraid, the truth,” said Latham. “There was a blazing row in here few weeks ago. Some of the local merchant captains were upbraiding a group of naval officers at their dinner.”
Latham leant forward and emptied the bottle into their glasses, before signalling for another.
“A French privateer took a ship just inside the sands. It was a clear day and the gunfire was plainly audible. Indeed one officer sent for a telescope so that he could observe the action, which was then described to his fellow diners.”
“Of which you were one, I take it?” said James.
“I was indeed, though at a separate table. A chasse-marée, I think they termed the Frenchman, was in a running fight with an English merchantman. The French boarded and took her, carrying her off towards Boulogne.”
“Did the navy not pursue them?” asked Wentworth, his face holding his customary heightened sense of outrage.
“No, Mr Wentworth. The navy did not. Not a man-o’-war so much as shivered a sail, though they must have had a better view from their rigging than the men ashore. And as for those officers in the dining-room, they, sir, once the matter was concluded, went back to their victuals. Hence the party of irate merchant captains who sought to upbraid them. They felt the navy was neglecting its duty.”
“Neglect of naval duty is not uncommon,” said James, looking into the deep red wine in his glass.
Harry gave him a sharp look. Having been a King’s officer himself he knew more than the others about the nature of the problem. He was generally willing to put their case, even though he himself had been forced to resign his commission in questionable circumstances.
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