Michael Jecks - The Death Ship of Dartmouth

Simon used the point of his sword to emphasise Baldwin’s words, and in the midst of the parted sailors, he saw Alred and his two assistants. ‘What is all this?’

‘These three helped the French spy to escape, that’s what!’

‘I’ve heard enough about this already,’ Simon growled. ‘He’s no spy.’

‘We have been ordered to stop him reaching France with his messages, and that’s what we’ll do.’

‘Look!’ Alred shouted, pointing.

Simon and Baldwin could see the two rowing boats overhauling the smaller one. The cooper was pulling as hard as he might, but he could not draw away from the others with four men in each working the oars.

The men whom Baldwin and Simon had rescued from the first four sailors had arrived now, and they pushed the sailors away from the quay as Baldwin and Simon peered out at the desperate chase.

‘They’ll kill them all, won’t they?’ Simon said.

‘We can’t catch up with them now.’ Baldwin swore under his breath.

‘The knight is almost at them,’ Simon said quietly.

He could see the fair man waving his sword about his head, almost on the little rowing boat, and then there was a scream, and a small figure leaped from it at the larger boat. The fair man stumbled backwards, and with his arms outstretched, fell back over the side, making a vast splash, the smaller man at his breast. The two disappeared from view. Meanwhile, Pierre stood in the boat, his sword in one hand, dagger in the other, and waited. A crimson feather appeared in the sea even as the figure of Sir Andrew showed below the water. Of Hamund there was no sign.

Baldwin cupped his hands about his mouth and roared at the top of his voice: ‘TURN YOUR BOATS AND COLLECT YOUR MASTER. LEAVE THAT BOAT ALONE. I ORDER YOU TO LEAVE IT, IN THE NAME OF THE KING!’

There was a moment’s pause. It was plain that the sailors were wondering what would be best for them to do, and then a cry came from the further craft, and the two turned their prows about, heading down river to where Sir Andrew’s body had floated. As they struggled to gather him up, Baldwin saw the little boat making its way to the Saint Denis . Sir Pierre raised his sword in salute, bowing his head, and Baldwin made a bow in return. Then, as Pierre reached the ship and made his way up the rope ladder, Baldwin turned away, suddenly exhausted.

The inquest on this latest body took but little time, and Coroner Richard was pleased to be able to declare that the murderer, the notorious Frenchman called ‘Pierre’, was responsible. Baldwin looked across at the shipmaster from Sir Andrew’s ship, Martin Pyngin, as this was recorded, and the man didn’t blink. Well, if it could be said that he had achieved what Lord Despenser had commanded, even if Sir Andrew was dead, that would mean the man would live a little longer. It was no surprise he had chosen to present matters in the best possible light. So had Baldwin.

He had taken the shipmaster to the tavern as soon as Sir Andrew’s body had been brought ashore, and indicated that were the murderer of Sir Andrew also dead, partly from being stabbed, partly from drowning, it would be so much the better for everyone. Especially since the man responsible for causing mayhem in the town the night before, murdering a gaoler for no reason, causing the Abbot of Tavistock’s Bailiff to be badly hurt, and threatening violence on others, not to mention the piratical attack on another man’s ship, had died. The crimes could die with them, Baldwin intimated.

The old shipman didn’t comment, but sniffed and took a long pull of his ale. Later Martin left, still without speaking, but now he glanced across at Baldwin and gave a short nod before turning away and shouting at his crew in a voice that could have been heard clearly at Kingswear.

‘A satisfactory end to the affair, I think,’ the Coroner said with a smile as Stephen began to put away his pens and ink. ‘All done that was needful. Now all we need consider is the matter of the other deaths.’

Alred was with his fellows, and he looked up at the Coroner as Sir Richard spoke. ‘Perhaps a small reward would be in order, Sir Coroner?’

Richard gazed at him with a beatific smile. ‘I have no need of one, but if you insist on it, I would be glad of a quart of ale, good fellow.’

Alred smiled at his joke, but then he realised the man was serious.

Simon and Baldwin between them bought the ales in the end. All walked to the Porpoise and took a bench outside. Baldwin called to the host and demanded ale for all of their company, and soon they were drinking cheerfully enough.

Alred looked about him as he drank, recalling his departure from the tavern the previous evening.

‘Something wrong, Master Paviour?’ Simon enquired, seeing his distraction.

‘No, no. Just wondering what might have happened to a fellow who was here last night. Big lad, but very sad. I think he’d been out at the back in the gaming room.’

‘The gaming rooms cost many of the sailors all their money,’ Simon said.

‘Yes. Daft pursuit,’ Alred said with the comfortable knowledge that the last three games he’d played had made him a profit.

‘Who was it?’

‘I don’t know. Some fellow I’ve seen about the place,’ Alred said, adding candidly, ‘I often see people walk past me, but they rarely look down at me when I’m in the hole. I’ve seen him with someone else, though. One of the merchants.’

‘Tall? Slim? Short? Fat?’ Simon asked.

‘Quite tall. Not fat. Not the scrawny one who looks like he’s only just out of his apprenticeship, the older one.’

‘Hawley,’ Simon said. He mused. ‘This man, then — could it be his clerk? A fairly well-fed look to him, round face, wears a blue tunic?’

‘Yes, that’s him. He was out here last night and when he left, his face was quite tragic, almost like he’d seen a ghost.’

Stephen smiled with the rest of them, but then his smile faded. ‘A ghost …’

‘You all right, clerk?’ Simon asked.

‘I … I think I have seen Adam, Bailiff.’

‘Who?’ Simon said absently.

‘Didn’t you say Pyckard told you Adam was on the ship? Adam, Danny’s brother-in-law?’

Simon nodded, but his eyes were drawn back to the tavern, and now he stood, staring inside with a thoughtful frown. He turned and peered out at the haven. The Gudyer was just moving out into the channel off Kingswear, and he could see the great sails reefed in as she made her way down the river. ‘I wonder …’

‘What?’ Baldwin asked sharply.

‘In God’s name, I think I see it all, Baldwin. I think I see it all.’

Baldwin was confused to hear that his friend wanted to go and speak to Hawley about his man, but he was loath to leave Simon to go on his own. In the back of his mind he wondered whether the Coroner was not in fact right when he suggested that Simon had hurt his head more badly than he had realised, when the sailor’s hammer had struck him.

‘Master Hawley, we want to speak to you about Strete,’ the Bailiff declared. ‘Is he here?’

Hawley had been sitting at his fireside when they entered. A clerk was at his side, and the master from his cog, Cynric, stood at the wall. ‘I fear my man left my service last night.’

‘He ran off, did he? Took his belongings and left your service?’ Simon said. ‘I suppose that’s not surprising.’

‘Why?’ Hawley demanded.

‘We’ve been struggling to understand this matter of the murders of Danny and Despenser’s man here, Guy de Whatever … and the matter of the Saint John being attacked. And do you know what I wondered? I wondered why the ship should be empty. All I could think of was that someone killed the crew, and didn’t bother to steal the cargo because they knew they’d win it all anyway.’