The Wreck Of The Mary Deare

Now, I thought — now he must tell them about Dellimare’s offer. Whether he had evidence to support it, or not, it was the only thing for him to do. But, instead, he drove home his accusation on the basis of motive and opportunity; the Company in liquidation and the only people who would benefit by the loss of the ship. ‘Why else should the owner have been on board?’ he demanded. A voyage of almost five months! It was a ridiculous waste of a director’s time, unless there was a reason for his being on the ship. ‘And I say there was,’ he declared.

Smiles jumped to his feet again, but Bowen-Lodge forestalled him. ‘You seem to be forgetting the cause of the ship being abandoned and finally lost. Are you accusing Mr Dellimare of causing the fire in that after hold?’

It brought Patch up with a jolt. ‘No,’ he said.

‘He was dead by then?’

‘Yes.’ Patch’s voice had dropped to a whisper.

And then Smiles, still on his feet, asked what possible motive the Company could have in destroying the ship. ‘She was bound for the scrap yards and in the figures Mr Gundersen has given you, Mr Learned Chairman, you will find that the scrap value was fixed at a little over Ł15,000. She was insured for Ł30,000. Is the witness suggesting that a mere Ł15,000 was sufficient motive to induce a company to endanger the lives of a whole ship’s crew?’

‘The question of motive,’ Bowen-Lodge said, ‘does not come within the scope of this Investigation. We are concerned solely with the facts.’ He glanced towards Sir Lionel as though expecting something further from him.

‘I think at this stage, Mr Learned Chairman,’ Sir Lionel said, ‘I should ask you to put this very serious question to the witness — Did he, or did he not, on the night of March 18, set fire to Number Three hold of the Mary Deare, or cause it to be set on fire?’ A sort of gasp like an eager shudder ran through the courtroom.

The eyes of the two men, Counsel and Chairman, remained fixed on each other for a moment, and then Bowen-Lodge nodded slowly and turned to face the witness. Looking down on him and speaking quietly, but with great distinctness, he said, ‘I think it my duty to tell you that in my opinion this whole matter of the loss of the Mary Deare will be the subject of a case in another Court and to advise you that you need not answer this very direct question if you do not wish to. Having so advised you, I will now put the question.’ And he repeated it.

‘No, I did not,’ Patch declared, and his voice was clear and firm. And then he added, turning to face Sir Lionel Falcett, ‘If I’d set fire to the ship, why should I go to the trouble of putting it out?’

It was a good point, but Sir Lionel only shrugged. ‘We have to consider that she might have gone aground on the nearby reefs, perhaps the coast of France, only partially burned out. The evidence would be better sunk in twenty fathoms of water. There was a gale coming up and then you had Mr Sands’s arrival to consider-’

Bowen-Lodge gave a discreet little warning cough and Sir Lionel murmured his apologies. The Chairman looked up at the clock again and then leaned over and conferred with his assessors. Finally he adjourned the Court. ‘Until ten-thirty tomorrow, gentlemen.’

Nobody moved for a moment, and even when they did, I sat there, stunned and angry at the injustice of it. To take a man’s record and fling it in his face like that, to damn him without a shred of evidence … and there was Patch still standing stiff and rigid in the witness box — and Sir Lionel, picking up his papers and smiling at some little joke made by one of the other lawyers.

Patch was moving now, crossing the floor of the court. Without thinking I started forward to meet him, but Hal put his hand on my arm. ‘Better leave him now,’ he said. ‘He needs to think it out, poor devil.’

‘Think what out?’ I asked angrily. I was still wrought up by the injustice of it.

‘What he’s going to say tomorrow,’ Hal answered.

And then he added, ‘He hasn’t told the whole story yet and Lionel Falcett knows it. He can tell it tomorrow, or he can tell it in the criminal courts! But he’s got to tell it some time.’

The criminal courts. ‘Yes, I suppose it will come to that,’ I murmured. But before that, the truth had to be uncovered. And the truth, whatever it was, lay out on the Minkies. ‘I must have a word with him,’ I said. I had suddenly made up my mind and was forcing my way through the crowd towards Patch.

He didn’t hear me when I called to him. He seemed oblivious to everything but the need to get out of the place. I caught hold of him, and he turned abruptly with a nervous start. ‘Oh, it’s you.’ He was trembling. ‘Well, what is it?’

I stared at him, horrified by the haggard, hunted look in his face. There were beads of sweat still on his forehead. ‘Why in God’s name didn’t you tell them?’ I said.

‘Tell them what?’ His eyes had suddenly gone blank of all expression.

‘About Dellimare,’ I said. ‘Why didn’t you tell them?’