Arthur Upfield - Winds of Evil

Then one afternoon when Dreyton was taking his ship into Portsmouth Harbour in the teeth of a fierce out-rushing tide-rip it had collided with one of the small ferry boats, with fatal results to three of its passengers.

At the Court of Inquiry the evidence regarding an order issued by Dreyton at the crucial moment, before the collision, was conflicting, but yet hostile to the young commander. Dreyton was dismissed from his ship and placed in the retired list.

The writer of the report, Bony noticed, was plainly sympathetic. According to him, subsequent evidence had come to light which cast grave doubt on the justice of the court’s verdict, but was not sufficiently strong to base a demand for a fresh inquiry.

Broken and disgraced and disinherited by his uncle, Donald Dreyton had disappeared from England and had never drawn his retired pay.

The writer of the report asked for Dreyton’s address for several reasons. Opinion in naval circles had veered strongly in his favour. The quartermaster on duty when the collision had occurred had admitted collusion with Dreyton’s junior officer in giving hostile evidence. The admiral uncle had reinstated his nephew in both his affections and his will, and was only then beginning a wide inquiry to locate him.

“This certainly urges me to remove Dreyton’s name from my list.” Bony murmured. “It is highly improbable that a man having Dreyton’s heritage and training would lust to kill. If he had sunk beneath the injustice of fate, he would have taken to drink or committed suicide. Instead of which he continues to live a clean life, determined not to sink farther than the Court of Inquiry ordained even if unable to rise again to his former status. Anyway, this report confirms a little theory concerning Mr. Dreyton. He has behaved exactly as the nephew of Vice-Admiral Sir Reginald Dreyton would behave. Yes, breeding does count-but only when allied with training.”

At noon there was hell created on this fair earth. The people of Carie shut their shops and barred the doors and windows of their houses. White-faced and anxious on her lover’s account, knowing him to be working with Dogger Smith in a camp having no protection, Tilly crept silently about the hotel, while James sat in his closed bar trying to read.

The wind was not of cyclonic strength, not of the destructive force of the cyclones which cut into north-western Australia from the Indian Ocean. It was not the wind so much as the sand which wasbecome a blinding, choking menace. To be sure it was the wind that stirred the sand off the ground, raised it hundreds of yards in the air, but it was the sun’s heat which was the major force lifting the sand-grains ever higher and ever in greater density, so that for ten minutes after noon there was complete darkness.

“I’mgettin ’ fair sick of these wind-storms,” Hang-dog Jack shouted to make himself heard above the pandemonium of roof iron and shrieking wind. “It’s all right for you blokes. You don’t have to work-not that you work properly any time.”

“I had to go to Carie for the mail this morning,” Bony ventured.

“Thatain’t work,” snorted the cook. “Youorter be only too glad to call in on James. How did the beer taste?”

“The bar was shut.”

“I’d have made ’imopen up mighty quick,” Young-and-Jackson stated with extraordinary emphasis.

“I’d have stopped there with theflamin ’ mail all day,” said Bill the Cobbler, his bald head streaked with sand-dust. “Hell, what a day! Old Dogger Smith and Harry West will be ’avinga lovely time of it-just lovely.”

“Do young Harrygood,” growled Hang-dog. “The young nip is too cocky by a long way. Looks down on them as has to work for a living. Ithanks the boss forlowerin ’ his dignity a bit.”

“Cripes! This is about the worse storm we’ve had for years,” complained Young-and-Jackson. “Meand Bill has been trying to concentrate on a game of draughts. How Joe, here, and the doctor can play chess all night beats me.”

“It’s merely a matter of will-power,” asserted Bony. “The doctor and I have been engaged on one game for the last two nights, and we intend finishing it tonight if it occupies us till morning. Sand or no sand, I am going to Carie tonight.”

Barred in their own quarters, it was impossible for the men to do anything but sit on their bunks and try to read. Even to talk for long was impossible. The substantial building rocked and creaked and rattled. From without, the roaring wind was now and then blanketed by the flying sand to a moaning whine. It was the worst sand-storm in Bony’s experience.

Not until six o’clock, when the sun was westering and the temperature was slowly falling a few degrees, did the sand waves begin to subside. The wind, however, blew no less strongly. The sun’s heat waning, the wind’s power over the sand waned, too, and now there were passing rifts between the waves when the sky was revealed the colour of a shark’s belly.

At seven-thirty Bony announced his intention of setting off for Carie and the game of chess with Dr. Mulray. No one saw him slip the pistol into a coat-pocket, and no remark was passed about him wearing a coat this hot and most unpleasant evening.

When he reached the open bluebush plain he knew that the sun was setting. There was, of course, no sign of it, and the red light which would indicate fine weather to come was absent. Great waves of sand-filled air rolled over the plain to scream through the small and close-leafed bushes and to hiss over the tortured ground. Here, away from the station buildings, the wind’s triumphant roar was changed to a low, sinister, throbbing hum. Of a certainty it would be an evil night and the morrow would be worse.

Arrived at the left of the two black gates in the Common fence when the early-come night was fast falling, Bony walked westward along the boundary for a quarter of a mile and there sat down. He was a little early for an appointment, and he filled in time by rolling and smoking cigarettes which always were thick in the middle and pointed at the ends. The town he could not see. When one of the sand waves was passing he could not see two yards.

Ah! A tall figure loomed into his radius of vision, coming eastward along the fence. It was Constable Lee dressed disgracefully in old civilian clothes and wearing an old cloth cap.

“You are on time, Lee,” Bony shouted. “Come and sit here with me. It is a trifle early yet. Did you take care that no one in the town saw you leave it?”

“If anyone did, I was seen to leave it by the north end,” replied the burly policeman, cheerfully smiling. “What a day it has been-and what a night it is going to be!”

“An interesting night, let us hope, Lee. Did you bring some blacking for your hands and face?”

“Yes.”

“Then you can turn yourself into a black minstrel. Remember to keep your eyes semi-closed. The whites of a man’s eyes can be seen in the darkest of nights when the eyes are turned at a certain angle. Listen carefully while you are making up for your part in this coming play. I am going to leave you at a place about forty yards out from NoggaCreek, and about midway between the camp and the road. Between you and the camp will be Sergeant Smithson, while I will be stationed on the Broken Hill road where it begins to cross the creek. We three then will have Elson almost constantly under observation as he will walk to and fro from road to camp. Is that clear?”

“Quite clear,” replied Lee, who, having blackened his face, was now attending to his hands.

“Very well. Now, this is most important. Our first consideration is not the capture of the Strangler, but the safety of Barry Elson. Our objective is to permit the Strangler to brand himself and yet prevent him from injuring the young man who so bravely is offering himself as the bait of our trap. If we can capture the Strangler, all the better, but once he is branded we can take our time tracking him down. Therefore, be wary about using your pistol. If you hear Elson shouting for help, rush to his assistance. In such case, Smithson and I will be doing that, too. The point is that when Elson shouts for help we must render it as quickly as possible.”