Peter Tremayne - An Ensuing Evil and Others

Roscarrock dismissed the man with a wave of his hand just as the master’s mate arrived. “Were you on the gun deck before we beat to quarters?”

The grizzled veteran frowned at his captain. “That I was. I accompanied Lieutenant Jardine, who wanted to inspect the readiness of the gun deck. We were here a full ten minutes before we beat to quarters. Then I went directly to my station, leaving the lieutenant here.”

“That is all,” dismissed Roscarrock, turning to the midshipman. “Well, Mr. Hart, your theory seems to be flawed. If Lieutenant Jardine was already on the gun deck when we sighted the Frenchman, how could anyone have cut the stay ropes with the intent to kill him before the gun crews came into action?”

Midshipman Hart was evidently trying to fathom this out. His face brightened. “Unless the stay ropes were cut beforehand.”

Roscarrock chuckled cynically. “Are you telling me that whoever cut them was foresighted? A fortune-teller? That he cut the ropes with the premonition that we would shortly be in action and Jardine would be standing in that position? Why, we might have gone this entire voyage without firing a shot in anger-”

“That’s it! cried the young man excitedly. “Not in anger, not firing a shot in anger…”

Roscarrock regarded him with perplexity. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you recall last night, sir? You called all officers to your cabin and said that there would be a gunnery drill some time this morning to check our efficiency. That explains why Lieutenant Jardine was already on the gun deck before we sighted the Frenchman. He was ensuring his guns were in readiness.”

“I don’t follow.”

“All the officers knew that gunnery drill would take place. And every officer was told to ensure no crew member knew this so that it was to be a good measure of their efficiency. Even Surgeon Smithers was at the officers’ call when you announced the drill.”

“Are you now saying that one of my officers is responsible for Jardine’s death? That knowing the gunnery drill was ordered and also knowing where Jardine’s station was, they cut through the stay ropes and waited for the drill?”

“I am saying that one of the officers on this ship is responsible for his murder, sir. Only the officers knew of the impending gunnery drill and had time to tamper with the ropes.”

Roscarrock pursed his lips. “I think that your argument is rather far-fetched. But”-he raised a hand to interrupt the midshipman’s protest-”I’ll not gainsay your wish to make further inquiries. Remember that you are making serious charges, Mr. Hart. I will not record our conversations in the log until you come to me with evidence. Now, I am afraid that I have other pressing matters to attend to.”

Returning to the quarterdeck, Roscarrock found his first lieutenant, Gervaise, issuing orders to the ship’s carpenter.

He stiffened slightly as the captain approached, and dismissed the craftsman. “There’s still some rigging tackle in a dangerous condition on the mainmast by the crow’s nest. We won’t be able to clear it until we get in port waters. The Frenchie was using some chain shot to try to dismast us. It’s still lodged up there. We’ll have to use the mizzentop lookout position.”

“Very well. What about the foremast?”

“The master’s mate is overseeing the jury rig now. It’ll mean a new sail there. We can be under way within half an hour.”

Roscarrock glanced around at the enshrouding fog. “Unless it’s my imagination, this fog is thinning. Lets hope the Frenchie hasn’t stuck around to find out what has happened to us. We won’t have the speed to outrun him without full sails.”

Gervaise did not seem unduly worried. “Rambert’s a cautious cove, sir. Remember how his squadron failed to support Admiral de Villeneuve off Cape Finisterre a few years back? It was Rambert then who ran for a fog bank to escape our squadron rather than engage us. I think he’ll keep his ship back and not venture after us.”

“Let’s hope you are right, Mr. Gervaise.”

Gervaise hesitated awkwardly. “Sir, what’s this Surgeon Smithers was chortling about Lieutenant Jardine’s death?”

Roscarrock swung round in annoyance. Damn the loose-mouthed doctor to hell! “What was Smithers saying?” he demanded.

“Oh, he seemed amused by the fact Jardine killed himself by accident and won’t get the glory of dying in battle. Is it true?”

“Lieutenant Jardine was killed by a gun recoiling into him, that’s all,” Roscarrock said shortly.

Gervaise abruptly began to chuckle. “Rless me! It’s really true? Not killed in action? No fame and glory in death for Jardine?”

Roscarrock’s eyes narrowed. “I am fully aware that you didn’t like Jardine, Mr. Gervaise.”

Gervaise stopped chuckling, and his mouth suddenly hardened. “Didn’t like him? That is an understatement. I hated him, and if I had been a better man with sword or pistol, like young Unstead, I would have called out the bastard long ago. Ask Smithers, as well. He once tried to foist his attentions on Smithers’s daughter Prudence.” The words were spoken softly, but there was vehemence in them.

Roscarrock turned away in embarrassment. He pretended to examine the drifting fog again. “Hands on deck for the committal of the dead to the sea in half an hour. I want to be under way immediately afterwards if this clears.” He made to turn down the companionway but then paused and added, “Make sure we can muster a fighting trim if Johnny Frenchman suddenly appears again.”

Lieutenant Gervaise raised a hand to his hat.

In his cabin, Roscarrock sat for a while absently drumming his fingers on his desktop while listening to the faint sounds of shouted orders and answering cry of the hands as they performed their various tasks to return the ship to readiness.

Little time seemed to pass before there was a sharp tap on the door.

It was Midshipman Hart. His face wore a satisfied expression. He seemed bursting with news.

“Come in, Mr. Hart,” Roscarrock invited. “From your expression, I presume that you have solved your mystery?”

“I believe that I now know the means whereby it can be solved.”

Roscarrock raised his eyebrows for a moment and then sat back, relaxing as far as his small wooden chair would allow. “So what is your conclusion?”

“Exactly as I said, sir. Lieutenant Jardine’s death was accomplished with malice aforethought. Knowing the gun drill was going to be held this morning, one of the officers of this ship cut the stay ropes some time during the night so that number-six gun would recoil back and strike the lieutenant. However, before the gun drill was due to take place, a real engagement ensued when we sighted the Frenchman. The result was just the same. The gun killed the lieutenant.”

“That much you have claimed before. You were going to report to me when you could sustain your hypothesis. Can you do so?”

Hart smiled broadly. “As you gave me permission to pursue the task, sir, I took the liberty of searching Lieutenant Jardine’s dunnage.”

“You searched his personal possessions?”

“I did so, sir. I believe that given what I have found, I can demonstrate the reality of my theory and present a prima facie case against an officer.”

Roscarrock leaned forward quickly. “How so?”

“It is well known that Lieutenant Jardine had innumerable affairs, that he was a ladies’ man, a seducer of women.”

Roscarrock spread his hands, palm downward on his desk. “Go on,” he instructed.

“There were several letters in his locker all written to him by the same female hand and signature together with a small portrait. A portrait of a young lady. A rather attractive young lady.”