The Atlas Murders (24 page)

The two other officers
confirmed to the captain that they agreed with the mate’s conclusion.

 “That settles it. A noon
burial it will be. I’ll have our decision radioed to the authorities. I’m sure
they’ll understand.”

“Thank you for your help
gentlemen.”

 As soon as the boatswain got
his orders for to prepare the corpse for burial at sea, word spread round the
lower decks that the ship was continuing on to Melbourne. Henry was lying on
his bunk when he heard the news shouted along the alleyway. Thank God for that
much anyway, now to get a look at the body tonight.

Gary Conrad greeted the news
with visible relief.

“Glad we’re not going back
there. We’d have some idiot detectives doing some questioning on us. It would
take very little for them to arrest someone. They’d have all those whores lined
up pointing out the men they went with down the tween decks. Fuck that for a
game of soldiers.”

 “Yeah, I suppose you’re
right, and the wrong man could be taken in on the word of one of the girls. But
you think you know who was with the one murdered?”

 “I’m saying nothing Henry,
and don’t ask me that again. I don’t want to end up over the side with a knife
between my ribs. The fellow I’m talking about, and this is all I’m going to
say, is a dangerous bastard with a knife. I’m going up for a cup of tea, are
you coming? I’ll make a couple of sandwiches too.”

 “Right, as soon as I throw
on a bit of gear, I’ll follow you on.”

 When Conrad was gone, Henry
went to his drawer and took out the small flashlight and tested it; the light
was weak but it would do. He put it under his mattress, fished out the master
key from its hiding place and put it in his pocket. All set, about two in the
morning he thought, would have to stay awake until then; couldn’t chance going
to sleep.

He joined Conrad in the crew’s
pantry. He was pondering if the fear Conrad had of the man he suspected was
real or only a cover. Conrad certainly didn’t want to go back for questioning,
afraid one of the girls could finger him.

Henry wondered if Sean
Sweeney had gone with one of the girls. Perhaps he could have taken one to his
cabin, because he’d hardly go below decks like a common crewman, he mused. He’d
have to be very discreet in this area of enquiry. He’d also like to know if
Tukola was entertained below decks.

 Later, Henry played darts
with Conrad
in the recreation room. Neither of them felt like sleeping. The crewmen
came and went but none of them stayed around, nor did they talk to either of
them. The air was thick with tension. Tukola and his watch mates sat for a
while drinking tea, waiting to go on watch. Henry knew Tukola was first lookout
which meant he’d be off duty between two and three. He couldn’t be totally
sure, but when he saw Conrad looking at Tukola, he thought he detected a hint
of fear in his fellow steward’s eyes.

 “I think we should get a bit
of sleep,” he said to Henry as he threw the last dart.

 “I think so,” said Henry as
he glanced at Tukola who stared back at him. They both left for the cabin. They
spoke little as they got into their bunks. Henry took up a book, after a few
minutes he saw Conrad’s bunk light go out. He looked at his watch; he’d have
over two hours to wait so he began reading. It wasn’t long before his cabin
mate was snoring. He switched off his own bunk light and listened to the sounds
of the ship as he felt the soft breeze drifting through the porthole. His
thoughts went racing back to the phone call from Katherine about Shirley not
coming home that fateful morning. And now here he was, within no time at all, thrust
onto a ship in the middle of the Indian Ocean. His life seemed so unreal; it
was like he was acting out some crazy movie script. He thought of Vera and the
wonderful time spent with her. He seethed when his thoughts turned to Lord
Welland, who most likely would never be brought to justice for his role in the murder
of Nilima. He also thought of the young girl in the hospital. His determination
was stoked hot to find the maniac who killed her. He lay in a twilight zone of
sleep or wakefulness where time was rendered meaningless.

 Suddenly shaken from his
thoughts, he looked at the luminous dial of his watch; it showed twenty minutes
past two. I’ll go now, he thought. Dressing quietly, he slid the flashlight
into the pocket and walked out into the alleyway. He heard someone making noise
as he passed the pantry. Looking at his watch and calculating the watch keeper’s
duties, it must be Tukola in the pantry. He felt a cold shiver run down his
spine and hurried down the outside alleyway and across to the hospital door. It
was as quiet as a graveyard. He took out the key and inserted it in the lock,
but when he tried to turn it the bolt didn’t move. He tried again the same
thing happened. He stood there frustrated; what the hell would he do now, he
thought. Henry was sure all the locks were the same so why would this one be
any different. He took out the key and returned it to his pocket. Then, more in
hope than expectation, he tried the door handle. To his great surprise the door
swung open. Holy cow, they must have forgotten to lock it, but who would want
to go in there anyway, he thought. He closed the door behind him and as a
precaution, slipped the lock on. The stench was overpowering as he switched on
the flashlight and pulled the sheet down. In the weak beam he was shocked with
what he saw. Although the body was partly decomposed, it was obvious that this
was the work of the serial killer. He turned out the flashlight and kneeled
down pulling his tee-shirt up to his face - the stench was choking him. Then he
heard a noise outside and then he could hear the door handle being turned.
Jesus, who could that be at this hour? Could they possibly be coming to get her
ready for burial? He knew the body would be stitched into a canvas bag prior to
burial, but why in the middle of the night? To his amazement, he heard what he
took to be chanting coming from outside the door. He couldn’t make out the
words of low droning chant, but he was sure it wasn’t English. Who could be so
crazy to carry on such mumbo jumbo? Only the person that killed her was his
chilling thought. Then he heard something being scraped down the door. Bloody
hell, maybe a knife. There was one porthole and he thought he might get a
glimpse out through that, but if the person saw him it could be disastrous for
his detection work and personal safety. The chanting stopped and he saw a
shadowy figure pass the porthole. He put the sheet back over the body and
walked stealthily to the door. He listened for a while; it was deathly quiet so
he slipped the catch on the door lock and turned the handle. A slither of light
came through and he walked out cautiously, closing the door from behind - he
decided not to lock it.

Back in his cabin Gary was
snoring soundly, he got quietly back into his bunk and slept the last few hours
before the six thirty call.

 The breakfast table was
silent not a word spoken. The only one to break the silence was the mate when
he announced that the girl would be committed to the sea at noon. There was
still no sign of the junior radio officer this was the second meal he’d missed.
Henry decided he wouldn’t remark on it to the other pantry crew. While having
his own breakfast he had to listen to one of the old salts giving a graphic
account of how the body should be got ready for burial. His wizened old
wrinkled face and the absence of teeth gave him a look of an old crone. He
spoke in a Liverpudlian accented monotone. “He’ll start stitching at the bottom
after putting some heavy shackles at her feet, then when they get to the top
he’ll put the last stitch through her nose.”

 “Oh for Christ sake,” said Gary
Conrad, half gagging on his tea, “would you shut up, that’s barbaric.”

 “I’m telling you, that is
the law of the sea and if there is any life left in the body, the last stitch
will make it twitch.”

 “Fuck this!”

Conrad got up from the
breakfast table and stormed out on deck.

Henry turned to the old salt who
the crew referred to as ‘Jack Tar’ and told him that he’d said enough.

 “Yer modern day sailors
couldn’t stomach it. What would you have done during the war eh?”

 Henry also got up and left.

 He went up to clean the
junior radio officer’s cabin. He expected to find him unwell in his bunk. He
opened the door and to his utter surprise, Sweeney was down on his knees praying,
with a rosary beads in his hand.

“Do you want me to come back
later?”

 He stood up and blessed
himself.

“There has been no service
for that poor girl; I thought I’d say a few prayers for the repose of her soul.
Are you a catholic?”  

“No, I’m Church of England
and I agree with you there should be some sort of prayer for her. I’ll mention it
to the chief steward when I go below.”

 “Thank you. I said it to my
senior but he didn’t seem to care. You needn’t do anything with my cabin today
thanks.”

 “Right, do you mind if I ask
are you feeling all right? You didn’t come down for dinner last night or
breakfast this morning.”

 “I was so upset I didn’t
feel like eating. There’s some very bad person on this ship and I’d like to be
transferred off when we get to Melbourne. With Marconi you can do that,” he
added.

 “There’ll be a big investigation
when we do get to Australia,” Henry explained, “everyone will be questioned,
especially the men who went with the girls while we were at anchor.”

 “How will they know the
person who killed her?”

 “They have ways of
questioning; trick questions that make criminals slip up and say things they
wouldn’t normally say.”

 “But if you tell the truth,
that’s what matters isn’t it?”

 “Well, I suppose so, but if
you went with one of those girls you would be a suspect anyway, especially if
someone saw you with one of them.”

 “I suppose.”

He turned and put the rosary
beads in his pocket.

“I must go on watch now,” he
said as he left the cabin.

 When he was gone, Henry
opened the top drawer and there were some trinkets, small cheap bracelets and a
bottle of the mineral water. The items were like the boat girls were selling. This
could mean that Sweeney had a girl in his cabin or elsewhere on the ship. At
the very least, it proved that he bought stuff from one of them.

 Henry asked the chief
steward about the burial. He said that at fifteen minutes to noon there would
be a small prayer service on deck before her burial. He was about to take
coffee for the crew on the bridge and he asked the second steward if he should
take a cup for Pippa.

 “No, she is having smoko
with the junior deck officer’s, would want to mind herself with that randy
bunch, but I’m sure the captain will be hovering around, he doesn’t let her out
of his sight and rightly so too.”

He went to the bridge and he
saw they had the national flag of Ceylon and the British Ensign. The wheelman
was being relieved and the third mate told him to bring the two flags to the
boatswain. While Henry was on the bridge, the whistle from the engine room
rang.

“Yes third?” he heard the
third mate saying, “Stop engines at fifteen minutes before noon and wait for
the captain’s orders on the bridge here.”

 There was a hatch board laid
from the gunwale to a trestle on the afterdeck just outside the hospital. On
this the body would be laid before being tipped into the sea. Henry was down on
the deck fifteen minutes before noon and most of the crew had gathered. The
officers stood in a separate bunch away from the crewmen. On the captain’s
order, four deck hands went into the hospital and carried out the bagged corpse
and laid it on the hatch cover. Two men stood at either side of the body. The
ship’s engines stopped and an eerie silence hung over the ship and her
assembled crew. She resembled the haunted ‘Flying Dutchman’. The third mate
covered the remains with the two flags. The captain led the funeral with the
Lord’s Prayer and followed this by reading a passage from the bible. He then
said the prayer of the burial at sea and finished with, “I now commit your body
to the sea.” It was such a sad and poignant address; the grief was palpable. It
was as if everyone held themselves partly responsible in some way by just being
part of a ship’s crew where such a thing could happen. Henry glanced at Tukola
who seemed to be grieving. Then he looked over to Gary who appeared to be in
shock. Sweeney, the junior radio officer was crying. The captain nodded to the
two men standing by and they lifted the hatch board and the young girl’s corpse
slid into the deep abyss.

Chapter
Twenty-Four

Everyone stood and many made
the sign of the cross; some said their own private prayer. The captain spoke to
a deck apprentice and he walked up to the bridge to give the third mate on
watch the order to resume speed and course. The ship’s engines came to life and
she swung around leaving a snake like wake before she settled on her south
easterly course. The crew dispersed silently, some to their lunch, others sat
on hatches, smoking, looking out over the lonely sea. A pair of albatrosses
appeared that afternoon and kept the ship company for some days to come; they
never landed on the ship, just glided along on the warm updraft, their huge
wings barely moving as they effortlessly escorted the ship. That evening at
dinner, Jack Tar, the old fireman, was ranting on about how albatrosses were the
souls of drowned seamen. “That young girl is haunting this ship now and when
you see two of them it’s a bad omen.” One of the able seamen told him to keep
his superstition to himself. Tukola was half way through his lunch when he put
down his knife and fork he stood up looked at Jack Tar with what looked like
fear in his eyes.

“Her soul is gone; she is at
the bottom of the sea now, not a bird.”

 “Ah,” said the old wizened
sailor with spittle dripping over his lower lip onto his chin, “tonight when
you’re on lookout, you’ll hear the small birds crying out, the little ‘Mother’s
Carey Chickens’ lamenting the death of that young girl, you’ll hear them,” he
repeated.

Tukola swore under his breath
and promptly left.

“Funny type that,” remarked
one deckhand, “very superstitious.”

 “How so?” asked Henry.

“Ah well, he told me he
believes the spirits of the dead can come back to haunt you and some evil ones
can cause you terrible pain and suffering, even death.”

 “Did he tell you how they avoid
these evil spirits?”

 “They have some primitive
rituals they have to perform to stop the evil spirits leaving the body.”

 Gary Conrad paused with a
spoon of plum duff halfway to his mouth. “Good God, it sounds to me like
something out of the stone ages. What country is he from anyway?”

 “Not sure, he’s mixed raced.
His father could have been from any place around Borneo or New Guinea or some
of those countries. Tukola was born in Singapore.”

 Henry thought about the
person outside the hospital door. Could it have been Tukola performing some of
his mumbo jumbo?

 The weather was getting less
hot as they sailed south. Pippa was out on the boat deck most days. Protected
from the sun by an awning the captain had specially rigged to keep her cool.
She spent her time painting and sketching. She was trying to finish a watercolor
of the ship with a cameo of the captain in the top right corner. When
the
third mate heard
what she was doing, he volunteered a large print of the Rangoon for her to
copy. He noticed a beautiful ring hanging from a chain around her neck. She saw
him glancing at it. “I see you looking at my necklace. I only wear it when I
feel lonely. I don’t know why I put it on today.”

She slipped it over her neck
and handed it to him.

 “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to
pry, it’s just it looks so beautiful.”

He held it in his hand and
gazed at the perfection of the beautiful large diamond set with three rich
rubies.

 “It’s my mother’s engagement
ring. Father said the diamond was for fidelity and the three rubies represented
me, him and mother. She gave it to me when I was leaving. Mother said she had
nothing else of value so she could only give me the ring and her love.”

 The third mate looked at her
sad damp eyes.

“Pippa, why don’t you wear it
on your finger?”

She slid it on her middle
finger.

“Look, it’s far too big. I’d
only lose it.”

 Threading it back through
the chain, he placed it round her neck and remarked, “It’s beautiful anywhere.”

 Henry pondered the earlier reaction
from Tukola and when he had a chance while passing the hospital, he looked at
the door. Sure enough, he saw scrape marks done most likely with a knife or a
sharp tool. He couldn’t really make any sense of the scrapes; they were
hurriedly done but they looked like a head and slits for eyes, mouth and nose,
with little lines running down them like stitches. Maybe he was imagining
things, he thought, as he turned and walked along the deck and sat down for a
smoke. He noticed he was smoking a lot more since they left Colombo. He knew
there would be a big investigation of all the crew when they arrived in
Melbourne. If only he could contact Danny, his buddy in Perth, who he knew
would make it his business to be in Melbourne when the ship docked. He would
get him to tell the customs do a very thorough search of Tukola’s cabin. The
customs men wouldn’t need search warrants and they could turn it upside down.
He looked up at the boat deck and there was the captain and Pippa going for
their evening stroll; ‘the old man’ as he was sometimes affectionately referred
to, was besotted with this young daughter he never had. He escorted her to all
meals and had her check with him when she was going to her cabin last thing at
night. He or some officer escorted her from the bridge if she was late, which
usually she was. He was so protective of her - much to Henry relief. However,
he couldn’t help thinking that the murderer in their midst would surely be
looking for some slip up or lax chaperoning to do the girl harm.

The tension in crew’s
quarters was even more pronounced than before Dhanya’s burial. There was no
trust among the crew, only suspicion and malicious whispering.

Henry was willing the ship
faster as she plowed what seemed an endless furrow through the turquoise water.
He wondered if there would be officials from Colombo waiting for them in
Melbourne, and if so, would they have the arrest warrant issued in Bombay. The
warrant would almost certainly mean that he would be sent ashore. And even if
they were to accept that he was not responsible for Nilima’s murder, the crew
would know that something was amiss, so it would be too dangerous for him to
return to the ship. In effect, his role in the investigation would be over.

 Days merged monotonously
into one another until it was impossible to remember anything special about
previous days. The sight of Cape Leeuwin on the south east tip of Australia was
welcome as the alteration of course eastwards signified Melbourne was only four
to five days sailing away. The weather turned remarkably cooler and light
clothing was the order if you went on deck for an evening stroll. Henry
resolved to hide the master key somewhere it would be near impossible to find. But
there weren’t many places on a ship that a custom man might not look. And it
wouldn’t do to be caught with it if the chief officer did somehow miss it. He decided
to hide it somewhere away from his cabin. That evening he walked the after deck
and again looked at the scrapes on the hospital door. There just didn’t seem
anywhere to safely hide the key. He noticed small groups of men talking and
eyeing him suspiciously as they stood around the decks. Some were going aft to
have their little meetings. There were sea birds flying astern waiting for the
galley boy to throw his bucket of food waste over the side. The lights of
fishing boats were numerous now and also freighters sailing west with their
cargos of grain, wool or frozen lamb for Britain. He heard Gary Conrad before
he saw him.

“Wouldn’t mind being on her.
Probably bound straight for Suez and then Britain.”

 “No,” replied Henry, “I
suppose it won’t be too long before we’re homeward bound ourselves.”

“Not likely mate, you don’t
know this company well enough yet. We’ll surely have another six months before
we see the white cliffs of Dover. At least we have a decent port to look
forward to in Melbourne; plenty of civilized women those Asian girls are ok,
but at the end of the day you can’t beat an Aussie tart.”

 “I’d say you are right, but
the crewmen are going to get a fair going over from the Australian police about
the murdered girl. Our shore leave might be curtailed.”

 “You’re can’t be serious,
Henry. They surely can’t stop us going ashore that would be an outrage. The
whole fucking crew would go on strike if they tried to pull something like
that.”

“They know there’s a murderer
on this ship and if they can’t find and arrest him, they’re not going to chance
letting him commit crimes ashore.”

 Gary slapped his hand on the
gunwale. “As pussies are hairy, I’d say you’re right. The bastard will have to
be caught or we’ll all suffer imprisonment on this tub, and fuck knows, the
next port after that could be the same. I’m telling you now, if this bastard
isn’t caught and arrested, this ship’s going to turn into a prison ship with us
the prisoners.”

He cleared his throat and spat
over the side. “Here have a lucky strike, I’m getting depressed what with all
this whispering and suspicion, it’s turning out to be some voyage.”

They lit up their cigarettes
and watched three of the elder inquisitors walking forward after their
deliberations behind the poop house. They slowed as they passed and looked
askance at them. It looked like all the young members of the crew were suspects
and the older crewmen were now acting as judge and jury.

“Come on, we’ll go for a cup
of tea and a sandwich. If this gets any worse I might contemplate jumping over
the side.” Gary laughed at his own cynical humor.

There were a number of sullen
faced men brooding in the pantry. The tension was getting too much - the
atmosphere was now becoming septic. So when Henry and Gary got their tea and
sandwich, they went out on deck to eat their supper.

Henry still pondered where to
put the master key.

 Danny was notified to travel
from Perth to Melbourne to meet the ship and bring Henry up to date with their
latest information which he had just received. After reading the file himself
he was shocked to see two girls were murdered in Bombay and how Henry through
negligence, was now a suspect for one of these murders. He would have to liaise
with his counterpart in Melbourne and also get Henry’s side of the case;
particularly how his name and address was found on the girl. He wondered if it
was planted on her or did Henry stupidly have some kind of tryst with the girl.
They would have to brief a team of detectives to interview all crew members and
it would be up to the discretion of the chief of police whether to curtail
shore leave. He could also come under local political pressure if word got out
about this ship and the murders. He saw a warrant for Henry from the Bombay
judiciary but it was marked not for the local police chief; it was to be kept
secret between the members of the special force in case it might jeopardize
Henry’s position. Danny now knew that at least the number of suspects was
narrowed down to three. If there wasn’t a breakthrough before the ship left
Melbourne, reluctantly, he might have to recommend withdrawing Henry from the
case.

 Two days before their arrival
in Melbourne the weather deteriorated to south east gale force nine, a cold
wind originating in the Antarctic was whipping and screeching around the
rigging. The old man’s constitutional walk had to be cancelled. Pippa and the
captain spent the time in his cabin discussing her future as she thought it
might happen. The captain had sent a communication to the ship’s agents to
arrange for accommodation for her until permanent residence could be arranged.
He assured her she need not worry about money and also that her future education
would be looked after. Her admiration for the kindly captain seemed boundless.
It was obvious to all that he felt the same about his new ‘daughter’.

The captain had written a
long letter to his wife of forty years telling her about the stowaway on his
ship and relating to her how she would like her as much as he did. He vowed he
would take her to visit Pippa when he had leave; a cruise would be a nice break
for them both, even if it seemed a bit like a ‘busman’s holiday’ for him. He
took special care to make sure she was safely locked in her cabin each night. He
even asked her to come into him so he could see her to her cabin and be sure
she locked the door. She was under strict orders to open the door to no one and
to shout out if she thought anyone was at her door; the captain’s cabin was in
close proximity and he would hear her calls.

 The sub list was going
around the evening before they were due to dock in Melbourne.

“What the hell good is there
in subbing if we can’t get ashore?” Gary whined.

 “We needn’t take the sub in
that case,” Henry reasoned.

The third mate came to their
cabin with the sub list. “Now lads, how much?”

 “I’ll have twenty,” Gary
said. The third wrote it down.

 “I’ll have the same sir.”

 “Good! I have a list here. I
don’t know whose idea it was, but everyone seems to be in agreement with it.
It’s a present from all members of the crew to our young stowaway. You probably
know she has no money, so it’s up to yourselves, there’s no obligation; give
what you want or nothing if you so like.