Authors: Paul Finch,Neil Jackson
Craddock (10 page)
Craddock looked backwards into the gloom, wondering what Munro and Kenton might have got themselves into. Not that there was time to deliberate on this. He pressed on, the lantern held before him. His mission to save Palmer – if such a thing was still possible – had to take precedence. A moment later, he’d lifted a trapdoor and found a wooden ladder dropping into the
Catherine-Maria
’s lowest, murkiest depths. He went down without hesitation. There was no alternative. Shouting threats into that black chasm would avail him nothing; making angry demands would be greeted by further scornful sniggers, if by anything at all.
Catherine-Maria
’s lowest, murkiest depths. He went down without hesitation. There was no alternative. Shouting threats into that black chasm would avail him nothing; making angry demands would be greeted by further scornful sniggers, if by anything at all.
It was a ten-foot descent into the hold, and as soon as the major alighted at the bottom, he turned quickly, his gun ready, the lamp held above his head. Initially, there was little to see. The holds on most great ships, especially men‘o’war, were so spacious that they were more like warehouses. This one was no exception, though again bulkhead walls divided it into sections. Craddock walked slowly forwards, his brow moist with sweat. An open doorway loomed about ten yards ahead, and there was a brief sound of movement on the other side.
“
Alright Burnwood, I’ve arrived,” he shouted.
Alright Burnwood, I’ve arrived,” he shouted.
There seemed little point in pretending otherwise. Burnwood knew already; he’d been the architect of this; he’d drawn the police chief down as part of some plan. And in one sense that boded well. If the felon had wanted to simply kill Craddock, he could have done so half a dozen times already. Not that it wasn’t still a distinct possibility.
“
Burnwood … I said I’m here!”
Burnwood … I said I’m here!”
There was still no answer. Craddock took another step forwards and then felt something soft beneath his feet. He looked down, and saw that he was standing on grit, or was it mulch? He was confused. There was sand and shingle mixed with it, but also wood-chippings. He recalled that he’d seen Palmer lying on what had looked like raked earth. And then it struck him.
The ballast at the bottom of the ship; he was walking on top of the ballast.
That proved how deep into the vessel he’d penetrated.
And then a bass male voice sounded from the darkness beyond the door.
“
In here, major. I’m waiting.”
In here, major. I’m waiting.”
Craddock hesitated, wondering if the instant he stepped into view he’d be greeted by a hail of bullets. But again, what alternative was there? From the moment he’d opted to enter this wreck, a face-to-face confrontation had been inevitable. Almost fatalistically, he placed his lantern down – as before, there was no sense making himself too easy a target – then cocked his Smith and Wesson, and advanced to the open doorway.
Beyond it, he was confronted by another, near-identical section of hold, though in this case there was a difference. In the middle, two objects were hanging.
Two men. Both upside down.
Rope and woodwork creaked – just as it did on the gallows.
Craddock felt a bolt of fear, then a terrible rage.
He blundered forwards, gun to the fore.
“
Now, major, don’t be hasty,” came the disembodied voice.
Now, major, don’t be hasty,” came the disembodied voice.
Craddock halted. “Burnwood, you are the lowest … ”
“
My, you look as though you really want to kill me.”
My, you look as though you really want to kill me.”
“
Dead or alive, thief, it’s your decision!”
Dead or alive, thief, it’s your decision!”
“
And will I have that choice when I’m standing on the trapdoor at Lancaster Jail?”
And will I have that choice when I’m standing on the trapdoor at Lancaster Jail?”
“
That isn’t my problem.”
That isn’t my problem.”
There was a brief silence, then: “
This
is, I fancy.”
This
is, I fancy.”
Blue light spurted as a match was struck, and then a candle-flame sprang to life. The broad, shaven-headed form of George Burnwood materialised between the hanging shapes, which were now revealed to be Constable Palmer and Joseph Nethercot. They had indeed been suspended upside-down. Both were unconscious; Nethercot had been severely beaten; his thin, pinched features were black with bruises, streaked with dried blood. But Palmer was in a better state but in greater danger. While balanced the guttering candle in one hand, in the other he gripped the shotgun, and pressed its sawn-off barrels into the side of the constable’s back. The faintest pressure on that trigger, and he would blow young Palmer in two.
Craddock swallowed down panic, but tried to remind himself that, whatever else happened, surrender was not an option. He took careful aim, only for Burnwood to step backwards so that he was partly shielded by Palmer.
“
Drop the gun, or I fire,” the major said.
Drop the gun, or I fire,” the major said.
“
Then fire.” The felon seemed unconcerned. “I assure you, no matter where you hit me, assuming you
do
hit me, I’ll have enough left to finish off this protege of yours.”
Then fire.” The felon seemed unconcerned. “I assure you, no matter where you hit me, assuming you
do
hit me, I’ll have enough left to finish off this protege of yours.”
Something inside advised the major that he should shoot … that he
must
, that he had no other choice. But Major Craddock, both as an army officer and a police chief, had always stepped prudently. Now was not the time to change the habit of a lifetime. “I’m not withdrawing from here, if that’s what you expect.”
must
, that he had no other choice. But Major Craddock, both as an army officer and a police chief, had always stepped prudently. Now was not the time to change the habit of a lifetime. “I’m not withdrawing from here, if that’s what you expect.”
“
That’s not what I expect at all,” Burnwood replied. “But drop your weapon all the same.”
That’s not what I expect at all,” Burnwood replied. “But drop your weapon all the same.”
“
There’s no possibility of that.”
There’s no possibility of that.”
“
Lower it then … an inch or so. Give me a little room to manoeuvre.”
Lower it then … an inch or so. Give me a little room to manoeuvre.”
“
A little room in which to kill my man, you mean? And probably me as well!”
A little room in which to kill my man, you mean? And probably me as well!”
“
You’ll have to trust me, major.”
You’ll have to trust me, major.”
“
When you’ve already shot two of my officers?”
When you’ve already shot two of my officers?”
“
I
had
to shoot them …”
I
had
to shoot them …”
“
They were unarmed, you mindless, murdering animal!”
They were unarmed, you mindless, murdering animal!”
Burnwood remained composed. “I had to do something so serious that you would follow me all the way out here. You’ll notice I didn’t kill them both. I
could
have done. I could have shot your jailer in the head instead of the back.”
could
have done. I could have shot your jailer in the head instead of the back.”
“
Am I supposed to thank you for that?”
Am I supposed to thank you for that?”
“
No, you’re supposed to listen.” Burnwood shifted position but kept the shotgun pressed into Palmer’s guts. “That’s why I brought you here, to listen. Because that’s what you do, major.”
No, you’re supposed to listen.” Burnwood shifted position but kept the shotgun pressed into Palmer’s guts. “That’s why I brought you here, to listen. Because that’s what you do, major.”
Craddock was puzzled. The confrontation was not going the way he’d expected. Burnwood held the upper hand, yet he still restrained himself.
“
What do you mean ‘I listen’?”
What do you mean ‘I listen’?”
A brief silence followed, and when Burnwood finally answered, he sounded almost reverential. “I know you, Craddock. I know that you’re a decent man. That you’re one of this country’s more enlightened police officers.” He gestured around at the hold, at its cobwebbed shadows, its low-arched timbers dripping with water. “I also know that you’re one of the few men who’d have the courage to come in here after me. At the end of the day, it
had
to be you … there was no-one else.”
had
to be you … there was no-one else.”
“
So you’ve lured me, Congratulations. I’m still arresting you for murder.”
So you’ve lured me, Congratulations. I’m still arresting you for murder.”
“
Of course. But only in a few minutes’ time, when I’ve shown you something.” Burnwood nudged at Nethercot, setting the aged child-molester swinging. “No doubt you’re wondering why I broke this hateful old creature from your police barracks?”
Of course. But only in a few minutes’ time, when I’ve shown you something.” Burnwood nudged at Nethercot, setting the aged child-molester swinging. “No doubt you’re wondering why I broke this hateful old creature from your police barracks?”
Craddock said nothing, though the question
had
occurred to him.
had
occurred to him.
“
Don’t be too surprised at what you see,” Burnwood said. “This reprobate is no friend of mine. I’ve treated him the way society feels he deserves to be treated.”
Don’t be too surprised at what you see,” Burnwood said. “This reprobate is no friend of mine. I’ve treated him the way society feels he deserves to be treated.”
“
Is he dead?”
Is he dead?”
“
Not yet. Otherwise his blood wouldn’t flow, and I need his blood to flow.”
Not yet. Otherwise his blood wouldn’t flow, and I need his blood to flow.”
Craddock tried not to show how puzzled
that
comment left him.
that
comment left him.
Burnwood crouched, though he kept the shotgun jammed into Palmer’s side. “This is an experiment,” he said, as he screwed the stub of candle into the ballast. “Not a new experiment, I should add. It’s one I’ve already performed, but now I’m performing it for you.” He felt around inside a pocket of his coat.
“
You realise you’re talking like a lunatic?” Craddock told him.
You realise you’re talking like a lunatic?” Craddock told him.
Burnwood nodded. “That’s quite an appropriate statement, if you don’t mind my saying. Two or three years ago, I heard that a new institution had opened at Broadmoor in Berkshire. An asylum exclusively for the confinement of the criminally insane. They tell me it holds some six-hundred inmates?”
“
So?”
So?”
Burnwood shrugged. “So it isn’t nearly big enough. At least, it won’t be when we’re finished here.”
“
Get to the point.”
Get to the point.”
“
You’re aware the
Catherine-Maria
was once a Frenchie warship?”
You’re aware the
Catherine-Maria
was once a Frenchie warship?”
“
Of course.”
Of course.”
“
You’re also aware the Frenchies have some disgusting habits, which we, as good, civilised Englishmen, don’t hold with at all?”
You’re also aware the Frenchies have some disgusting habits, which we, as good, civilised Englishmen, don’t hold with at all?”
“
The point, Burnwood!”
The point, Burnwood!”
“
The point is that one of their very dirtiest habits was burying their dead on board ship … in the ballast, no less.” He indicated the moldering debris beneath their feet.
The point is that one of their very dirtiest habits was burying their dead on board ship … in the ballast, no less.” He indicated the moldering debris beneath their feet.
Craddock couldn’t deny that a faint, foetid smell was rising from it.
“
That’s right, major,” Burnwood said. “We’re standing on a graveyard. Unpleasant thought, isn’t it?”
That’s right, major,” Burnwood said. “We’re standing on a graveyard. Unpleasant thought, isn’t it?”
“
I’m sure I can live with it.”
I’m sure I can live with it.”
“
I’m sure you can. But let me elaborate further. This graveyard, which wasn’t even known about when the
Catherine-Maria
was first captured off Gibraltar, was already so cluttered, so bulging at the seams with the rotten flesh of slaughtered Frenchies, that in a very short time of it entering our penal service, it became unutterably foul. The stench and disease down here made the rest of what was soon being called the most notorious prison-hulk in Britain seem sweet by comparison. And there was never any rush to clean it out. Not until a few years from the end, when calls for reform were ringing all round the Home Office. By this time
I
was confined on board the
Catherine-Maria
. I was sent here in 1853, and held until she was decommissioned in 1857.” His eyes narrowed. “You may recall, major, you yourself sent me down for ten years. I’d broken some night-watchman’s skull while knocking over the Norby & Son blacking factory off Pottery Lane.”
I’m sure you can. But let me elaborate further. This graveyard, which wasn’t even known about when the
Catherine-Maria
was first captured off Gibraltar, was already so cluttered, so bulging at the seams with the rotten flesh of slaughtered Frenchies, that in a very short time of it entering our penal service, it became unutterably foul. The stench and disease down here made the rest of what was soon being called the most notorious prison-hulk in Britain seem sweet by comparison. And there was never any rush to clean it out. Not until a few years from the end, when calls for reform were ringing all round the Home Office. By this time
I
was confined on board the
Catherine-Maria
. I was sent here in 1853, and held until she was decommissioned in 1857.” His eyes narrowed. “You may recall, major, you yourself sent me down for ten years. I’d broken some night-watchman’s skull while knocking over the Norby & Son blacking factory off Pottery Lane.”
Craddock recalled it well. “In my opinion, Home Secretary Peel made a mistake when he rescinded the death penalty for violent robbery. That watchman was never the same again after your attack on him.”
“
Your Chartist father wouldn’t have approved of that opinion.”
Your Chartist father wouldn’t have approved of that opinion.”
“
My Chartist father never had to deal with men like you.”
My Chartist father never had to deal with men like you.”
Burnwood shrugged. “Well, it’s good that you’ve raised the subject of the death penalty, because this is partly what we’re here to discuss. But first the story I was telling you … about this particular hulk. While I was a convict here, one of my duties was to dig up this filthy charnel pit, sack the Frenchie carcasses – what was left of them – weigh them down and throw them overboard. It was while I was doing this that I made a remarkable discovery.” He paused, his words hanging. “Shall I go on?”
Despite his suspicious nature, Craddock was curious to know more.
Burnwood continued: “During Boney’s many wars, his battle-fleets travelled the world – Africa, the Indies, South America. Who can say what mysterious oceans they crossed, what strange, forgotten isles they visited, what weird life-forms they encountered.”
“
Weird life-forms?” Craddock wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly.
Weird life-forms?” Craddock wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly.
“
Major, don’t pretend your mind is closed to such things. I’ve made a study of your career. I had to find the right man. The main reason why you fitted that bill so perfectly are those … shall we say, ‘less than conventional’ cases that you’ve investigated.”
Major, don’t pretend your mind is closed to such things. I’ve made a study of your career. I had to find the right man. The main reason why you fitted that bill so perfectly are those … shall we say, ‘less than conventional’ cases that you’ve investigated.”
“
I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“
Even if you don’t, you’re an intelligent enough man to be interested by what I’m about to show you.” Burnwood pointed to the ballast. “There’s still one Frenchie lying under here. I left him behind deliberately, because, unlike his mates, he didn’t die from the sharpshooting of some English marine, or the tearing blows of the roundshot, or the hack and slash of the trusty old cutlass. No, this chap died from something else. Something that got into him while he was visiting one of those strange, forgotten islands … some spore or toxin. I don’t know what it was, I don’t know where he got it. But I
do
have my theories.” Burnwood smiled: it was a broad, toothy grimace. “This is where the experiment bit comes in. Your bobby … what’s his name, Palmer I believe you said?”
Even if you don’t, you’re an intelligent enough man to be interested by what I’m about to show you.” Burnwood pointed to the ballast. “There’s still one Frenchie lying under here. I left him behind deliberately, because, unlike his mates, he didn’t die from the sharpshooting of some English marine, or the tearing blows of the roundshot, or the hack and slash of the trusty old cutlass. No, this chap died from something else. Something that got into him while he was visiting one of those strange, forgotten islands … some spore or toxin. I don’t know what it was, I don’t know where he got it. But I
do
have my theories.” Burnwood smiled: it was a broad, toothy grimace. “This is where the experiment bit comes in. Your bobby … what’s his name, Palmer I believe you said?”
Craddock’s finger tightened on the trigger. Burnwood had drawn something from the pocket he’d been delving into – a steel blade.
“
Don’t, Burnwood! Don’t do it!”
Don’t, Burnwood! Don’t do it!”
In the candlelight, the felon’s scarred face had paled. Slowly, he sank to his haunches until he was crouching beside the hanging constable’s head. The blade was clearly visible in his right hand. It was a gutting-knife: thick at the base, hooked at the tip.
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