The Lady and the Captain (11 page)

Later that afternoon she learned why she had not seen him. The simple reason was that he was no longer aboard.

The young seaman had spent twenty-four hours trapped in the stinking hull. Upon being released, he was given his morning mess and confined to quarters. But instead of attending the morning memorial service for Captain Jackson, the lad had taken the opportunity to slip overboard and swim for shore. Unseen by the rest of the crew who were busy attending the memorial service, he escaped.

The ship’s Marines and a small longboat crew were sent ashore to track down and find the wayward deserter. But not a trace of him was to be found. Jeremy had apparently found means in which to quickly escape the harbor. He was now out of their reach.

“I should have had him shackled in irons,” Robert said, upon learning of the sailor’s escape, “and properly flogged. A little bloodletting would have certainly impeded his escape. I assumed the lad had learned his lesson and would reform his ways. More the fool I!”

Miserably, she conceded, “It is undoubtedly my fault, Lieutenant Smythe. I am most sorry for it. If you had not listened to me, he would not now be gone. I hope the Royal Admiralty does not blame you for this sorry affair. If they do utter a word against you because of this, please place all the blame on my shoulders. I am, after all, the featherbrained female who thought he would act honorably after you dealt him so mild a punishment.”

He smiled at her, his anger quickly disappearing.

The wise woman’s face was contrite and repentant. She was quite becoming in the morning sunlight, standing next to him on the quarter-deck. She wore a simple dove gray morning gown. Her gold locks of hair peeked out in curled tendrils from under her plain straw bonnet. She had beribboned it appropriately with black velvet for the memorial.

He consoled her. “You are not to blame, Mistress Duncan. Neither one of us could have possibly known how Jeremy would react. Truth be told, this is the only second desertion The Brunswick has had in the past two years. It is an admirable record most captains would envy. Nay, the Admiralty will say nothing about this regrettable event.”

“Men desert that frequently, sir?”

“Aye, I’m afraid so,” he answered truthfully. “Those pressed into service, the homesick, and those disillusioned about life at sea, will on occasion jump ship. Aye, I am afraid it is a common enough event. One unfortunately a captain of a man-of-war must come to expect in these uncertain times. Loyalty to king and country can mean much, or for some very little.”

“And the hands, will they miss Jeremy greatly? Have I deprived you of an important member of your crew?”

“Nay. Jeremy was a capable enough foretop man,” he said, referring to the sailors who were assigned to the highest part of the ship’s tall masts. They worked rigging the sails, serving on watch, and acting as marksmen in battle, firing from the maintops at any invading intruders trying to board the ship.

“But he was not so indispensable a seaman that I could not easily replace him with another. From what I understand, he was not particularly well liked by a great number of the hands. Therefore, he shall not in the least be missed. Apparently, the lad had no friends. He kept to himself, believing himself somehow to be superior to the others. Aye, a true loner was our wayward sailor.”

He took her hand comfortingly into his own.

“Do not trouble yourself on his account, Mistress Duncan. To dwell on the matter, my dear, will only give you cause to frown. As the commander of this vessel, I must say it would displease me greatly to see you thus.”

He daringly kissed her hand.

It was a gentle and tender gesture, one she had cause to dwell upon with a contented smile on her face for the rest of the day. The sight of the proud and proper commanding Lieutenant Smythe bending over her was endearing. He had been more than kind. He had managed to abate all the secret fears she had guiltily held concerning her part in Jeremy’s decision to desert.

She would have gladly swept the matter cleanly from her thoughts, as he had recommended, but that was not to be. A darker event was about to overshadow the others.

*    *    *

As the sun reached its zenith the next day, an excitable gentleman in a long black overcoat came running up the gangplank, bringing word of a most unusual find. A dead body had been recovered from the sea.

Robert recognized the excitable gentleman as being the local constable of Dingle Harbor. The local Irish called him their
Garda Siochanca
. He went and greeted the man thinking that perhaps Jeremy may have been found.

That morning he had filed a report with the constable of the port about the sailor’s disappearance. In return he had been assured that the town’s officials would spread the word around to keep an eye out for the young deserter.

But instead of bringing word about Jeremy’s whereabouts, the Garda brought the disturbing news of a retrieved dead body. It had recently washed ashore on a remote part of the southern peninsula not far from Dingle.

“A shepherd from Lipspole sighted the body snagged on a bit of seaweed. We rowed out and fetched it. He had come in on a high tide, Commander.”

“Do you have any idea as to the man’s identity?”

“Nay, not a wit . . . but what clothes the dead man wore were of a noticeable nature. He still wore a knit sweater with a distinctive pattern. I’m up and asking all the captains around the harbor t’ take a proper look at the body in case he be a lost member of their crew,” said the ruddy faced Irishman.

He regarded Robert in a man-to-man fashion. He confided, “There have been a few good seamen gone missing these last few days because of the recent gales. I heard tell yours had lost a hand, and I must confess that this is not the only reason why I wish ye to take a look at him . . .” He hesitated, as if he were not certain he should continue.

“What else?”

Sarah could feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickle with anticipation. She second-guessed the reason why the town’s constable wanted him to see the body. Something was not right about the death.

The constable glanced at them, as if weighing whether or not they were worthy of his confidences. They were not members of the small close-knit community. Could this English commander be trusted?

At last he nodded and said, “The death was not natural. He was found with a whalebone dagger firmly stuck in his back. Well planted, it was, right between his ribs. It was deliberately forced into him. The blade skewered one of his ribs, splitting cleanly in half, undoubtedly touching his heart and killing him. It was done with evil intent. Murder it was, sir.”

He took out a long stemmed clay dhudeen pipe from his coat and sucked on it thoughtfully. He pointed the stem of it at Robert. His face was grim with concern.

“Aye, I do not envy the man who can identify him, Commander,” he said, “for he’ll have the devil’s own responsibility of cleaning up the mess and dealing out the dead man’s vengeance. Aye, that can be particularly unsavory. Especially if the murderer be found to be a member of his own crew.”

The constable gave the newly appointed master and commander a thoughtful look. He had heard of how the first mate had been forced to take over command of The Brunswick because of Captain Jackson’s sudden death.

By the speculative look he gave the young commander, Sarah could tell he was wondering if the English officer was up to the task of taking control of such a mercurial situation.

Seamen were a hotheaded, superstitious lot. Even the militarily disciplined ones were known for their brash, unthinking behavior when pressed into an unyielding corner. How would the unseasoned commander handle the situation if the dead seaman proved to be one of his own men? Would he do his duty and go after the perpetrator?

“Not every man has the stomach to deal with such bothersome troubles,” the constable said aloud. “Nasty business all this is, Commander. Nasty.”

“Where has the body been laid?” asked Robert, catching the eye of the second mate, who stood next to them intently listening to the conversation.

“We placed it with the village’s undertaker. For sure now, no matter whom he might turn out to be, we’ll give him a proper Christian burial. After all the local captains have had a good look at him,” said the Garda, “we’ll lay him to rest in our own churchyard. Unless someone can identify the body and give him a name.”

“That is most kind,” remarked Sarah, thinking how others would have planted the unknown stranger in any plot of ground. It was charitable of the town to bury the stranger on holy ground. Some pressure must have been placed upon the church to accept the unusual burial.

“’Tis the least we can do for the poor fellow,” agreed the official.

“Do you think you can take me to him now, Constable?” asked Robert.

“Aye, if you are willing to, sir. I’ll bring you there myself. ’Tis my own brother-in-law’s undertaking business in which we have laid him out in. Not far from the harbor, it is. Will you be after following me over there?”

“Aye,” agreed Robert with a sharp, efficient nod, placing his hat on his head in preparation to leave. He turned to the second mate.

“Mr. Litton, I’d like you take command while I’m gone. Have the hands finish the duties that were set for today. And I shall need you to take over my navigational lesson with the midshipmen at midday.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” The second mate nodded, tipping his hat.

He gave Robert a questioning glance at her. What was to be done about her?

“I’m going with you, Lieutenant,” she said firmly.

“It’ll be no fit place for a lady,” protested the constable. “You might take to fainting, ma’am. And I carry no smelling salts upon my person.”

“The body will be quite spoiled,” agreed Robert. “I imagine a most unpleasant sight and odor awaits us. The corpse has undoubtedly been battered about the sea for the last few days. No doubt it will be in a dreadful state for viewing by anyone, Mistress Duncan.”

“I’ve seen dead bodies before,” she said, remaining firm in her resolve to go. She looked Robert directly in the eye, reminding him that as a wise woman, she had already been a witness to the grim reaper’s handiwork. She was not afraid.

A light of admiration shone in his eyes at her fortitude. She truly had a brave, stubborn spirit. He nodded in agreement.

“You shall join us, if that be your desire, ma’am. We depart immediately.”

They were conveyed in the village constable’s black carriage to the undertaker’s place of business. It was located on the edge of the harbor village. In a whitewashed stone cottage located off the main road, the body of the deceased had been laid out in the undertaker’s public viewing room.

Most of the villagers had already taken a look at the unknown deceased. Some of the locals, mostly married women, lit candles in St. Mary’s Church afterwards. They gave thanks to all the saints that they did not know him. Many had been afraid that the dead man might be their husband or one of their sons, who were out at sea. None as yet, had been able to give the deceased a name.

The fact the deceased had been murdered brought a dark air of gloom over the village. Old rivalries and hostile grudges were openly reviewed. Some bitter arguments were relived in the market place. The village was tense with suspicion. They wondered what evil had been dropped on their doorstep. The quicker the murdered man was identified and buried, the better.

Sarah held up a rose-scented handkerchief over her nose. She mentally braced herself before entering the room.

While it was true she had been in the presence of the dead before, it was also a fact that this was the first time she had seen one which had ripened over several days. Not to mention battered by the sea almost beyond recognition.

The horrible stench hit her all at once as she stood at the parlor door. It was worse than the smell in the ship’s hull. Involuntary, she stepped back.

Get a hold of yourself!
’Tis naught but a poor, dead soul awaiting you in there. You’ve seen such before
.

Robert put a firm, steadying hand beneath her elbow.

“You don’t have to go through with this,” he said in a soft voice, whispering in her ear. “I will not think any less of you if you should desire to wait outside in the carriage instead. This will be most unpleasant.”

“I’m after making for another try,” she said firmly, steeling herself once more, better prepared. She told herself she would look the body over as if it were merely a type of study examination created by her mother.

Gladys had always kept her by her side when examining patients. As early as the tender age of six, she’d been taught what signs of illness to look for in the sick, learning the methods to cure and ease pain.

Now she was once more the pupil, examining, thinking of the various ways which might have caused the dead man’s demise. How had this all come about? How had he been murdered at sea? And more importantly, who did it and why?

This particular examination was to be unlike any tutoring she had ever had. She had never viewed a murdered man’s corpse. But she wanted to try and understand the events leading up to his untimely death.

Could it be that the assassin who’d tried to poison the Captain had been involved in this crime, as well? Or was it simply a coincidence tying them together by time, she wondered?

She quickly glanced at Robert to view his reaction.

He had straightened himself in alert readiness. It was evident he was preparing himself for the worst. She could not help but ponder if the dead man had been one of The Brunswick’s missing crewmembers? If so, which one? Could he be the drowned steward or the runaway deserter? In a moment they would know for certain.

Robert stood behind her. He held her shoulders firmly with his strong hands. He was ready to prop her up, if necessary.

She was very aware of his touch. It was a comforting sensation, feeling his fingers supporting her. She knew she would not faint because of it.

Candles were lit about the room for the viewing. It was a thoughtful gesture and she was touched by the consideration of the villagers. They had given the unknown man the same respect as they would have one of their own.