Andrew Pepper - Kill-Devil and Water

‘Do you know a sugar trader from England called William Alefounder?’ He was about to explain that Alefounder had perhaps visited Ginger Hill some time during the previous year, but saw it wasn’t necessary.

‘He stayed up at the great house for a week, the end of last year. Took a real shine to Mary.’

Pyke studied Webb’s face. ‘And were these feelings in any way reciprocated?’

‘Mary had one white man in love wit’ her. That was enough. She didn’t need this other one sniffin’ around her.’

‘Are you suggesting she wasn’t in love with Charles Malvern?’

That drew an irritated snort from Webb. ‘Rich white massa offer you the world, what’s a poor black girl gonna do? Turn around and say no, Massa, I prefer workin’ in the fields, holing cane?’

‘So was Mary sent away to England or did she choose to go?’

‘Little of both.’

‘But why would she have agreed to go?’ Pyke hesitated. ‘Why not wait here for Malvern to sell Ginger Hill?’

Webb sighed. ‘He made the arrangements, she just did as she was told. Didn’t want to ruin a good thing, I suppose.’ His bitterness was self-evident.

‘And Arthur Sobers?’

They both looked at one another. ‘Who?’ Harper said, eyebrows raised.

‘A black man who was her travelling companion. She sailed with him to London and rented a room with him once they arrived.’

‘Don’t know no Arthur Sobers,’ Webb said. ‘Maybe she met him on the boat.’

‘Police in London reckon he killed her.’

‘You don’t agree?’ Harper asked eventually.

‘What bothers me,’ Pyke said, looking at Webb, ‘is your lack of concern that Mary might have shared a bed with another man.’

But Webb was slow to anger. ‘White man like you only understand the world in terms of possessions.’

It was a good answer but Pyke wasn’t quite convinced by it. ‘What do you know about Elizabeth Malvern?’

This sudden change of tack caught them both off guard. ‘In what sense?’ Harper asked, exchanging a nervous glance with Webb.

‘How would you describe her, for a start?’

‘Didn’t really know her. Black folk aren’t often asked to dine at the great house.’

‘Mary was.’

Webb licked his lips. ‘That was different.’

‘Different or not, I can’t imagine Charles’s family welcoming her with open arms.’

‘I guess you’re right,’ Harper said.

‘But you don’t know what Elizabeth thought about her brother marrying Mary?’ Pyke said to Webb.

‘Don’t imagine she cared for the idea one little bit.’ He wiped perspiration from his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. ‘Why? You think she killed Mary?’

‘It’s possible she might have been involved.’ Pyke paused. ‘I heard that Charles and his sister used to be — how should I put it? — too close.’

Harper glanced across at Webb. ‘Are you saying what I think you’re saying?’

‘Didn’t you hear the rumour, too?’ Pyke said, addressing Webb.

But Webb seemed unmoved. ‘Fucking about the only thing the white man is good at.’

Harper grinned and slapped Pyke on the shoulder. Pressing the rum bottle into his hand, he said, ‘Have a drink and try not to look so serious. I’ll be honest with you. Like Isaac said, you should go home. Mary’s dead and she ain’t coming back. This is our struggle.’

That seemed to remind Harper of something because his expression suddenly became serious. ‘When we first met, you asked me to tell you when the Island Queen arrived.’

‘And has it?’

The big man rubbed his chin, as though contemplating some deep thought. ‘ That’s why you came, isn’t it? There’s someone on board who knows something about Mary’s murder.’

A moment passed between them. Pyke’s jaw clenched. ‘Alefounder fled London on the Island Queen.’

Harper nodded, as if he’d been expecting it. ‘And you think he might have killed Mary?’

Pyke shrugged. ‘When did the ship dock?’ he asked eventually.

‘Yesterday afternoon.’

‘Which means Alefounder could be on his way to Ginger Hill right now.’

Harper looked at him. ‘It’s possible.’

Pyke nodded. ‘That’s why I’ve got to go back there.’

‘Go back? Are you out of your mind?’ Harper shook his head. ‘You weren’t too wrong when you said half the island was out looking for you. On the ride up here, we were stopped by three different sets of soldiers.’

‘But you know this land better than anyone,’ Pyke said to Webb. ‘You could show me the way back to Ginger Hill and I’ll wager you wouldn’t even need a road or a track.’

Webb looked at him for a while, trying to make sense of what he’d just been asked to do. ‘Can I ask you a question?’ He waited for Pyke to nod and then continued, ‘Why are you really here?’

‘You mean, have I really come all this way to find out who killed Mary?’

‘If you like.’

‘Strange as it may sound, the answer would be yes.’

Webb rubbed his eyes and sighed. ‘And now you want me to take you back to Ginger Hill and risk getting killed?’

‘Yes.’

Webb looked over at Harper and shook his head. ‘Man either too brave or too stupid or both.’

‘But you’ll take me there, won’t you?’

This time it was Harper who spoke. ‘You’ll have to wait until nightfall. Even if you cut across the cane fields, you might run into some men with dogs.’ He stood up, stretched his legs, and stared at the darkening sky. ‘In Falmouth they were talking about a storm heading this way. Maybe the best idea would be to stay here for a couple of days, lie low, wait for it to pass.’

‘I don’t have a couple of days.’

‘Then you should get plenty of rest. It’s a long way from here to Ginger Hill.’

By the middle of the morning the air had grown cool and moist and the wind, coming from the north, smelled of sea salt; it blew through the village, tearing straw thatches from the roofs of houses and stripping leaves from their branches. It started to rain shortly afterwards and by lunchtime the conditions had deteriorated so much that Webb reckoned it would be safe to start their journey. No one, he assured Pyke, would be looking for them in this weather. For his part, Pyke felt inclined to agree and was just as keen as Webb to get going as soon as possible, although he did wonder about Webb’s volte-face; why it was Webb rather than him who was suddenly forcing the timetable. They left after lunch, armed with rum, fruit and water, and wearing hats and boots borrowed or procured by Harper from the villagers. The track down to the cane fields was already muddy and treacherous and the wind, if anything, had picked up, so much so that by the time they made it down to the plain, some of the cane plants had been flattened. The rain continued to fall and the wind blowing through the cane made it impossible to hear what the other was saying, so they walked in silence, Webb leading the way, Pyke following.

For a while in the middle of the afternoon the wind dropped and the rain eased. They stopped for a rest under a leafy mango tree, Webb drinking from the rum bottle before passing it to Pyke.

‘You smell the salt?’ he said, looking up at the sky.

Pyke nodded. ‘Is that a bad sign?’ He swallowed some of the rum and shuddered.

‘This far up into the mountains it is.’

Pyke handed the bottle back to him and waited. ‘Can I ask you a question about what we discussed earlier?’

Webb took another swig of the rum but didn’t answer.

‘Why do I get the impression you don’t want to talk to me about Mary?’

‘I answered your questions.’

Pyke stared at him. ‘If I said the words “kill-devil” to you, what would they mean?’