The Blighted Cliffs (17 page)

'And
his fleet?'

'Some
of 'em we caught, an' a few got wrecked up on the coast, abandoned
cos of a rumour that Drake was nailin' all 'is crew to the
magistrate. Some went to France, an' I'll wager some of 'em are still
making the voyage today.' He chuckled. 'Tell you one thing, though: I
never seen the price o' rum so 'igh as the night they brought Drake
in.'

So
that was the sort of heroic action needed to win a reprieve from
Dover.

'And
since then?' I asked. 'Has there been much trouble with the
smugglers?'

'Calmed
right down after Drake swung. Cap'n Ramsay 'ad a bit of a name for
'imself, though 'e didn't stick 'ere long. But they reckons it's
gettin' worse again now - not that we've seen none of it.'

'And
what of Caleb Drake's brother?'

But
Ducker was distracted. The line was tight again, and this time, I
saw, it did not break free when he yanked at it.

'Boat
your oars,' he called, sweat beading on his forehead as he kept hold
of the line. 'Get your 'ands on.'

I
passed the rope-end back to the crew so they could heave from their
benches. I feared a sudden snap would send them all tumbling
backwards over one another, but there was still no give in the line
that, hand over hand, slowly came inboard.

'Looks
like you're a lucky man, Lieutenant,' said Ducker. 'Either that or
someone that's lost an anchor'll be pleased.'

Still
the rope kept coming, dripping a thin trail of water down the centre
of the boat; surely it must almost be done. Excitement gripped me:
this would be something to show Crawley.

There
was a thump and a shudder as something knocked against the bottom.
Ducker took a boat-hook and pushed the line clear so that the burden
would not catch on our hull.

'Ready,
lads -

With
a great splash, and a foam of bubbles, our prize burst free of the
water, bumped over the stern and landed on the deck at my feet.

I
stared; behind me, I heard at least one man vomiting. As Ducker had
predicted, there was indeed a rope tied to it, hanging over the side
where the weight that had kept it down dangled. But, although he
might have been Swiss, this was no keg of gin. For the second time in
a week, and only a few cables from where I had found the last one, I
stared at a rotting corpse.

After
a wave of disgust, I confess my second thought was one of insane
relief. 'You've all seen me this time,' I said, looking wildly around
the gaping faces of the crew. 'I didn't kill him.'

Ducker
gave me a queer look. 'What exactly does you mean, sir?' he asked
slowly. 'This time you didn't kill 'im?'

I
had little mind to correct him; I could not take my eyes from the
body. The corpse on the beach I had seen only from a distance, and in
enough distress that I had not paid it much notice; this one, lying
on its back on the deck before me, I could hardly escape. I'd seen
enough dead men in the charnel after Trafalgar, of course, when there
was barely a full set of limbs to share between a dozen men, but the
body in front of me, I think, was worse than any of those.

Its
skin was bloated, puffed up like dough and turned a strange, bruising
purple where dye from the man's coat had leached into it. Weed had
wrapped itself up one of the legs and become tangled with the hair,
though thankfully the fish had yet to begin their feasting. But it
was the face that really fixed me, contorted into a perpetual, silent
scream, with blue eyes staring wide into the fate that had taken him.

Ducker
turned the body over. It landed on my foot, and with a stifled shriek
I jerked it away, jolting the boat violently. The motion upset the
corpse, and it began to roll in the bilge, side to side like a clock
pendulum. We all looked on in silent horror, unwilling to touch the
thing until the rocking eased and it came to rest.

Ducker
lifted it again, this time more cautiously. 'Reckon 'e drowned,' he
said, having peeled off the coat and waistcoat to reveal the shirt
underneath. 'No blood nor nothin'.'

In
my brittle state, I was about to snap some acid comment about the
cause of death hardly being a matter for dispute, but thankfully I
checked myself." the last thing we needed was recrimination
added to the black atmosphere on our little boat. And Ducker had a
point.

If
the man at the bottom of the cliff had not, contrary to all reason,
fallen off it, then what was to say that the man at the bottom of the
sea had drowned?

'An'
not by accident, neither.'

Ducker
hauled in the rope tied around the man's ankle; on its end was a sack
- small, but surprisingly heavy. Taking his knife, he sliced through
the canvas. Wet sand squeezed out through the slit.

'Is
that ... is that a smuggler's weight?' I struggled to form any sort
of sentence while the face stared at me.

'Maybe.'
Ducker was frowning. 'Like I said, only ever found one o' these
before. That were weighted with stones. Not so much sand in these
parts.'

'But
if the smugglers had come over from France...'

'Aye.'
He did not appear to be concentrating fully on my words. 'But there's
somethin' wrong with this.'

'Something
very wrong,' I agreed. 'I'm no coroner, but from the state of him he
can't have been down there very long. And he must be barely half a
mile from the other body - possibly killed on the very same night.'

'Aye.'
Still Ducker sounded distracted. 'But that ain't the real sticker.'

'What,
then?'

'Well,
it's this, sir.' Ducker was shaking his head. 'See, I knows 'im.'

It
took a second for his meaning to sink in; even then, it still seemed
ludicrous.

'You
know - knew - this man?'

'Aye,
sir.'

'A
smuggler?' Even with the horror lying before me, and the preservative
effects of the sea-water on his flesh beginning to wear off, I dared
to think that this might yet prove some sort of an opening.

But
Ducker was shaking his head. 'That's the thing, sir,' he said slowly.
"E ain't a smuggler. 'E's Mr Webb.'

'Mr
Webb?' It seemed grotesque to give this foul thing a name.

'Customs
officer. Worked up the coast in Deal, but 'e'd come down to Dover
sometimes to visit Cap'n Ramsay.'

In
my agitated state I could barely make sense of this.

'That
is Deal's revenue officer?'

'Was,
sir. Went missin' about six months back. Not been seen since.' He
looked down at the body again. "Til now.'

We
rowed back to
Orestes
,
our progress jarred by the desire, plain in every face, to be rid of
our cargo as soon as possible, set against the gruesome spell of the
corpse, which continually drew our sickened eyes. The bitter smell of
gunpowder was still in the air as we approached the cutter, though
the drill had finished some time earlier, and someone aboard must
have seen what we carried for one by one I saw the men come to the
side until it seemed the whole crew must be lined along the gunwale.
Even Crawley's cocked hat was there, up near the stern. Soon I could
hear the chattering among them, but it tailed into silence as we came
under her bows.

'Leave
it down there,' shouted Crawley. 'I'll not have that festering aboard
my ship. Mr Palmer, find some canvas to stitch it up. You may do it
in the boat.'

I
saw the sailmake
r
head for his stores, and relief on the faces above me. They'd rather
have slaughtered a flock of albatrosses than hoist a dead body
aboard, and I had no doubt that once the jollyboat had been swabbed
out and scrubbed down, a little grog would find its way onto her
planking to avert the evil omen.

'In
my cabin, Lieutenant,' Crawley ordered as I gained the deck.

I
followed him down the ladder and through into a tiny hutch of a room
scarcely larger than my own quarters on the
Téméraire
had been, and certainly nothing against the splendour of her
captain's apartments. Crawley squeezed himself onto the bench that
ran along the stern - there were no windows - and gestured me to take
the seat opposite. He was not smiling, though he seemed more
irritated than angry.

'It
seems I cannot let you alone for half an hour but you manage to
entangle yourself in some mischief. Every time I look about, you seem
to be dragging in dead bodies - like a faithful cat, I don't wonder.
I sometimes think I ought to clap you in irons simply for the
preservation of humanity.'

'I
have been '

'And
when you are not digging up corpses,' he continued, 'it is merely
because you are in the midst of some other misadventure. Antagonizing
Sir Lawrence; playing the fool with your superiors; ruining naval
operations.'

'But
this is significant, sir,' I pleaded. 'It may be a nuisance, but it
is hardly inconsequential when a revenue officer is found drowned.'

I
repeated what Ducker had told me of Webb.

There
was a pause as Crawley considered this.

'I've
heard the name -vanished before I arrived, though, so never met him.
You think it important, do you?'

'Who
else but a smuggler would want to kill a revenue officer?'

'It
could as easily have been a jealous husband.' Crawley gave what I
feared was a significant glance. 'But I agree, the smugglers would
appear more obvious.' He tapped the table in front of him. 'Anyway,
the body must be disposed of, and I have no intention of wasting good
victuals pickling him so he can accompany us up and down the coast.
When Mr Palmer has finished wrapping him, you may take the jollyboat
into Dover and deposit him with the coroner. Or rather, you had
better take Ducker. He can go to the coroner, for the less your name
appears in this business the better. I may think it tiresome that you
persist in finding these inconveniences, but to Sir Lawrence it would
doubtless be perfectly damning.'

It
would be a hard pull into the harbour, and I doubted the boat's crew
would thank me for a prolonged journey with the corpse. But Crawley
was not finished.

'You
may stay in Dover, Lieutenant, although I will need Ducker and the
jollyboat back. I confess that the meaning of all these events
escapes me

'And
me, sir.'

'No
doubt.' He did not take my interruption kindly. 'But I am beginning;
to think that your brace of corpses may not be entirely unrelated to
the increase in smuggling that we are seeing - or at least, that Sir
Lawrence assures me we are seeing. It may even be something
significant, Lieutenant.' He stared hard at me.