The U-boat surfaced. Himmel ordered four of the crew to take his crates into the caves. Nobody else was permitted to see what they were doing. Kraus went up to the conning tower and heard shots being fired in the caves.
At that precise moment, the first of our torpedoes hit the U-boat and all hell broke loose. Himmel came running out but none of the others reappeared. He had shot them all to ensure their silence.
The U-boat eventually sank a few hundred yards off the Rocks.
Himmel was one of five officers we took prisoner. There is a photo in my study of them.
He is the one in the middle. I questioned him next.
He was cold, arrogant. I am haunted still by the memory of his eyes, filled with contempt and inhumanity. He just stared at me, silent. I have to admit it was intimidating. I have never come face to face with such evil.
Later I interviewed a wounded young sailor, Werner von Krankl, not much older than you. He was terrified. He was one of the men sent ashore with Himmel. They dropped a crate and it split open. He saw the contents but was too scared at first to tell me what it was. Himmel went crazy, shooting Werner’s companions dead but although Werner too was shot and wounded in the leg, the torpedo hitting the U-boat saved his life. It distracted Himmel long enough for him to hide. Even though we captured him without Himmel knowing, he was terrified Himmel would still get to him and kill him.
Now the crux of my secret. British Intelligence knew about Himmel and his cargo. I was given orders to sink the U-boat and recover the cargo ...the German crew was, they used the word ‘expendable’ …Things are not always honourable in wartime. It was not an order that I felt able to obey. So I …misunderstood it.
And due to another ‘misunderstanding’ about where this precisely happened, the cargo was never recovered. The German captain and I made a solemn vow that the location would remain secret. I did not tell the incident inquiry. We both told them that the location of the U-boat was some distance from where it actually was. We told no-one about the Horns of Lucifer. Some may call this a lie. I think we served a greater truth.
The British sent divers to the location we gave for the wreck of the U- boat but of course found nothing. Now the official papers have been released, other people know it is to be found, but not where.
The father of one of my men came to me in 1945 to ask me how his son died. I told him the true story, the one I had not told the authorities. I asked if there was anything I could do for him. He said ‘Do not let them disturb this grave. Too many lives have been lost. The gold should lie at the bottom of the sea with the dead for all eternity. No treasure can be as rich as my son was to me …’
Kraus and I resolved to meet after the war and do as my crewman’s father had asked.
In 1948 he returned to England to help me. We found the cave and the crates but our boat was holed on the rocks and we had to be rescued. Kraus went back the next night in another boat. I was due to meet him the next day but I never saw him again. I went back to the caves but there was no sign of any crates or anyone. I searched and even went to Germany years later, but found no trace of him. He was from Leipzig which fell under Russian control after the war, and no westerners were allowed there. I cannot believe he took the cargo for himself. There has to be another explanation.
For over sixty years I have kept this secret. I could tell it to nobody. But now the wound has been re-opened. Men, bad men, are on the trail. Rupert, you must act for us now. The cave is on the island known as The Claw. Whether there is anything left now, I do not know. You must follow the trail to the gold. If you find it, throw it to the bottom of the sea.
Say a prayer too for the young men we buried, will you?
It will not be easy but I know you can do it. You do not have much time. Be on your guard. You will need help, find the man in the wheelchair.
Keep this to yourself, trust nobody.’
Chapter 11
Rock and Roll
The tape crackled to an end. Up in the eaves of the barn, Rebecca pressed the stop button and blew out her cheeks. ‘Wow!’
‘Blimey!’ said Drew. ‘My Grandda fought in that war. All he ever says is he hopes Dougie and I never have to experience anything like it. Makes you think twice about wrinklies when you realise what they went through when they were younger. Rupe’s Grandpa couldn’t have been much older back then than my brother is now.’
‘I’d never thought of it like that,’ said Laura. ‘Listening to something that personal felt a bit of an intrusion.’
‘We have to get this to Rupert,’ said Rebecca. ‘And we obviously have to help him … But if there is anything, a trail leading anywhere, why hasn’t anybody else found it in over sixty years?’
Laura shook her head. ‘He says be on your guard but who from?’
Rebecca went over to the window, her hands clasped in front of her. ‘Whom do we have to beware of? What happened to Himmel? To Kraus? Who were the men at the Manor? Who’s the monk? And how do we find the man in the wheelchair?’
‘And your spooky pal in the black habit, don’t forget him,’ said Drew.
Rebecca appeared not to hear. ‘We should pay the vicar a visit and find out about that watermark. But first, we have to find the man in the wheelchair. If my guess is right, he may be the key to this.’
Drew looked at Laura, who shrugged. They both looked back to Rebecca. ‘And are you going to share any of your guesses with the group?’
Rebecca shook her head. ‘Nope! Not yet. I’m not quite certain what I think myself. But first thing in the morning, Laura, you go to see the vicar.’
‘What are you going to do?’ Laura asked.
‘Drew and I are going to see the solicitor, who will hopefully tell us where to find the wheelchair man. The Admiral says he will help us. We have to get to him before the other side does.’
‘What? You think he might be in danger?’ Laura sounded concerned.
‘We may all be in danger, Gilmour.’
‘We need to get this tape and stuff to Rupe.’ Drew held out his hand.
‘Then you’d better get back up that tree, Tarzan’ said Rebecca, tossing him the tape recorder.
* * *
Breakfast next morning was subdued and uncomfortable. John Sky did not appear, for which everyone seemed rather thankful. From the frosty atmosphere, Rebecca suspected words had been exchanged among the adults. Rupert’s mother appeared but said very little and lingered only long enough to make a cup of tea. Nobody mentioned Rupert.
‘Er, Drew and I were hoping to go to Tregenna?’ Rebecca addressed her question to Gaston. He looked up from his newspaper, nodding.
‘I’m going myself. Jump in if you like. What do you want there?’
‘Oh just a bit of shopping, something for my Mum,’ said Rebecca hurriedly. This seemed to satisfy Gaston.
‘See you outside in ten minutes,’ he said from behind his newspaper.
* * *
The Smuggler’s Chapel appeared deserted. Laura stood in the doorway and called out a tentative ‘Hello?’ There was a muffled crash from somewhere at the far end near the altar. After a few seconds, the head of an old man appeared from behind a wooden door, peering down the chapel.
‘Good morning! Can I be of assistance?’
‘Yes! I hope so! Are you the vicar?’ Laura hurried down the aisle towards him, fumbling in her pocket for the note. The old man nodded and beamed at her.
‘James Hendricks at your service … no relation by the way.’ Laura looked at him, bemused. ‘Jimmy Hendrix? Rock and Roll performer of some distinction? Not that I can admit to having heard any of his LP’s but I am told he is something of a legend.’
Laura shook her head, blankly. ‘LP’s? What are they?’
‘I suppose you are quite a young person. I believe he died in the early seventies.’
‘Ancient history. I was born in the nineties.’
‘Good Lord, really? Tempus fugit and all that. Oh well, anyway, how can I help?’
‘My name is
Laura Gilmour. I am staying with the Dewhurst- Hobbs. We were wondering if you could help explain something.’
‘A mystery? How exciting!’
‘There is a watermark on this paper. It seems to be a sort of religious symbol, so we wondered if you could help identify it?’ She handed him the paper.
‘Delighted! Oh dear, I need my glasses as I am quite short-sighted. Come this way.’
Laura followed him down a cramped staircase into a gloomy underground chamber, wrinkling her nose against a pervasive musty odour. They went through an ancient iron gate into a smaller room, where there were signs of recent activity. This chamber was well lit and fresh. James Hendricks crossed to a stone plinth, took out a pair of glasses and perched them precariously on his nose. He smoothed the paper under a lamp and studied it.
Laura looked around, curious. ‘Do you mind me asking what are you doing down here?’
The vicar looked up. ‘Oh, it’s all rather intriguing actually and maybe another mystery for you! This is the Dewhurst-Hobb family crypt, where the Admiral will be buried… Ooh! I hope that doesn’t sound too morbid. We are making preparations as you see. It’s actually the first time this has been opened in over fifty years. Closed up after the War because there had been some subsidence and it wasn’t deemed safe. It’s true. Part of the wall over there collapsed when we pushed it. But we made quite an interesting discovery.’
Laura peered through a hole in the wall, just large enough for a person to crawl through. She could make out another, narrow chamber, although it was too dark to see well.
‘Looks like a solid, outside wall, doesn’t it? Yet there is another chamber. You can squeeze through, although I haven’t tried. Bit old for that sort of thing. But … we pulled our friend here out.’ The old man pointed to a long wooden box. Laura took a step forward. Immediately, the old vicar laid a gentle hand on her arm. ‘Are you squeamish, my dear?’
Laura stopped. ‘I don’t think so.’ She peered very slowly into the opened lid. Inside were bones. She recoiled in surprise. ‘Oh!’
‘He’s quite dead,’ said the vicar, gaily. ‘Nothing to worry about. Not a Dewhurst-Hobb though. Or if he is, then not favoured enough to gain admittance to the family crypt for eternity. We don’t know who he is. Quite a tall chap, though, we think… I suppose it is a man. Rather more to the point though, is who is he and how did he get here?’
Gathering herself, Laura looked again. The deep, black eye sockets of a ghoulish skull stared back, making her feel queasy. Gingerly, she reached out to touch it. It felt surprisingly smooth. The rib cage was largely intact. It was a very odd feeling, seeing the remains of what had been a human being, lying there like this. ‘I’m not being cheeky but surely a graveyard is a normal place to find dead people?’
‘Oh quite! Ha! Ha!’ James Hendricks appeared to enjoy this hugely.
‘Whoever he is, he has been here some time. There were some old rags in there too, which we put over there. I haven’t looked at them yet.’ Hendricks pointed to the table and a pile of grubby black cloth. Laura rustled through it until something caught her eye.
A cap. The peak bore a faded gold-braided insignia, U-821.
‘This is German, isn’t it?’ she said, excitedly.
The vicar looked surprised. ‘Is it? How can you tell?’
‘U-821. Surely a German U-boat!’
‘I say, quite the detective aren’t you?! Bravo! A German U-boat? I’d completely missed that. My eyes, you see? Can’t see a thing past the end of my nose.’
‘Do you think I could borrow this and try and find out a bit more?’
‘By all means, my dear! Anything for a friend of the Dewhurst- Hobbs and all that.
How jolly intriguing! Go and see what old Guppy Baverstock makes of it. Jolly clever chap, old Guppy. Do come back and tell me.’ Laura was about to ask who Guppy Baverstock was when she remembered why she had come to the chapel in the first place.
‘I nearly forgot. What about the watermark?’
Hendricks jumped. ‘Oh yes! Golly, your watermark! Let me see, where is it – ah, yes!’
He picked it up. ‘No great mystery there. That’s the mark of St Morwenna’s Monastery.’
‘Are there still monks there?’ asked Laura. She followed the vicar back up into the church.
‘Oh yes although they keep very much to themselves. They have very little to do with the community.’
‘Do they ever come to your church?’
‘Oh no, never! Although if memory serves, they worked on the window many years ago when the chapel was restored after the war. Before even my time, that.’ He pointed up at a beautiful stained glass window, through which the sun was now casting shafts of glorious coloured light throughout the small chapel. ‘The monks would consider us quite low church. This place has quite a colourful history, you see. One of my predecessors, Reverend Ebeneezer Gadd, made a bit of an enemy of the local authorities by allowing the bell to be rung to warn smugglers when the soldiers were coming. The notorious Black Monk was hung from the tower as a warning, they say. That’s a few years before even I or Jimmy Hendrix were born, though.’
The old man grinned boyishly. Laura could not help joining in. ‘Stunning window, isn’t it? I could look at it for hours. The knight in the middle is Sir Lytton Hobbe, who did all sorts of dastardly deeds in the Crusades in the name of the Lord. Not sure what the Lord would really have made of all that.’ Laura smiled politely and said her goodbyes. As she departed, the old vicar was staring up at the window, lost in his thoughts.
So the mystery message had come from somebody at the monastery. And they kept seeing the monk. Two plus two? wondered Laura. Her mind raced with excitement as she hurried back to tell the others her news. And what of the cap? Oh damn! She had forgotten to ask about Guppy whats-his-name.
Chapter 12
Monks and Habits
See you later!’ Gaston waved, merrily crashing the gears of the ancient Land Rover, in which they had just made a less than comfortable journey from the farm through narrow country lanes and hills to Tregenna, the only town in the area. Rebecca and Drew stood on the pavement watching him go.
‘What is it about people down here and anything mechanical?’ Drew shook his head.
‘Where do we find Baverstock and Prowse solicitors, do you think?’ Rebecca looked at him, questioningly.
‘Phone book?’ said Drew. ‘Post office just over there should have one.’
They crossed the road and went into the post office. As Rebecca was flicking through the phone directory, Drew looked around. Immediately he breathed in sharply.
‘What?’ Rebecca looked up.
‘Over there, queuing up. Don’t think he’s seen us!’ Drew pointed.
In the short queue for the post office counter was a monk, standing with his back to them.
‘Is it the one from last night?’
‘Can’t see. And I didn’t get a really good look at him then, either.’ Drew frowned.
‘Here it is, Baverstock and Prowse, 14 Castle Street. Come on! Let’s get out of here before he sees us.’ As they slipped out of the door, they caught sight of the profile of the monk’s face. He had a sharp, angular nose.
‘I’d know that conk anywhere!’ said Rebecca. ‘It’s the bloke we saw up at the Manor. That’s our monk.’
* * *
Baverstock and Prowse, solicitors at law since 1797, had their offices in a beautiful half-timbered building in one of the main streets of Tregenna. Drew made a wry face as he examined the gold-plated sign by the front door.
‘I wonder how much having a place like this adds to the bill?’ he said, with barely concealed sarcasm. ‘You never meet a poor lawyer, do you?’
‘Thank you, voice of the down-trodden working masses,’ said Rebecca.
‘As you’re in such a magnanimous mood, why don’t you let me do all the talking?’
She clicked the latch and was inside before Drew could reply. The entrance hall was as beautiful as the o
utside. Shining wooden panels, antique furniture and a sumptuous carpet led to an oak desk, behind which sat a smartly dressed lad not that much older than themselves.
‘Rescue me if I sink in this carpet, won’t you?’ muttered Drew.
Kicking him deftly on the ankle, Rebecca went up to the desk and smiled at the lad behind.
‘Good morning!’ she said. ‘We are hoping to track down a client of yours, a man in a wheelchair.’
‘Yes?’ said the lad, his face betraying no emotion. There was a pause.
‘Er, well, we were hoping you could help us find him.’
‘We do not give out details of our clients, I am afraid. Will that be all?’ The smile was polite but frosty.
‘You the receptionist here?’ asked Drew. ‘Good job, is it?’
The young man was momentarily taken aback. ‘This firm is very well-respected and I am glad to work here.’
‘Not treating us with much respect, though, are you?’ Drew looked around the hallway as Rebecca held her breath in apprehension at where this line of questioning might be leading.
‘I’m sorry, sir. I have answered your friend’s questions as fully as I am allowed. We really are not at liberty to divulge details, client confidentiality and all that.’
‘Well, Mr Receptionist at this excellent company, we are interested parties in the estate of the late Admiral Bertram Dewhurst-Hobb, RN, DSO, war hero –’
‘Can I be of some assistance, Guy?’ A voice came from halfway down the stairs. They all turned.
‘It’s okay Mr Baverstock, sir, I was just explaining that we are not at liberty to give out confidential client information.’
‘And I was about to explain to Guy here that he is not a client. I think the client is probably the Admiral but as he is dead, we can’t ask him, can we?’ Drew smiled sweetly at Guy, who looked away.
‘Thank you, Guy. You are staying at Five Muskets Farm, aren’t you?’ Baverstock stepped in front of the desk.
The Legend of the Black Monk Page 8