The Wreck Of The Mary Deare

‘It’s nothing to do with the salvage company. But the contract is for refloating and towing the hulk to Southampton, and Higgins and Burrows will be on board the tow. Gundersen will insist on that. And with those two on board, it’s simple. Burrows has only got to open the sea cocks and the Mary Deare will quietly founder at the end of her tow line. They’ll wait till they’re past the Casquets, I imagine, and sink her in the Hurd Deep. She’ll go down in sixty fathoms or more, and everybody will think it a stroke of bad luck and put it down to the state of the hull after being pounded for a couple of months on the Minkies.’ He turned and stared at me. ‘Now perhaps you understand. I’ve got to get out to her, Sands. It’s my only hope. I must have proof.’

‘Of what?’ Mike demanded.

He looked from one to the other of us, a quick, uncertain movement of the eyes. ‘I must know for certain that there was an explosion in those for’ard holds.’

‘I should have thought that was a matter for the authorities,’ Mike said.

‘The authorities? No. No, I must be certain.’

‘But surely,’ I said, ‘if you went to the authorities and told them the truth… if you told them about Dellimare’s offer-’

‘I can’t do that.’ He was staring at me and all the vitality in his eyes seemed to have burned itself out.

‘Why not?’ I asked.

‘Why not?’ His eyes dropped and he fiddled with his glass. ‘You were with me on that ship,’ he whispered. ‘Surely to God you must have guessed by now.’ And then he added quickly. ‘Don’t ask me any more questions. Just take me out there. Afterwards …’ He hesitated. ‘When I know for certain-’ He didn’t finish, but looked directly at me and said, ‘Well? Will you take me?’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘But you must realise it’s impossible now.’

‘But-’ He reached out his hand and gripped hold of my arm. ‘For Christ’s sake! Don’t you understand? They’ll refloat her and then they’ll sink her out in deep water. And after that I’ll never know…’ He had a beaten look and I was sorry for him. And then a spark of anger showed in his eyes. ‘I thought you’d more guts, Sands,’ he said, and his voice quivered. ‘I thought you’d take a chance — you and Duncan. God damn it! You said you’d take me.’ He was coming up again, the muscles of his arm tightening, his body no longer sagging … unbelievably there was strength in his voice again as he said, ‘You’re not scared, are you, just because there’s a warrant out for my arrest?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘It isn’t only that.’

‘What is it then?’

I reached across the table for the envelope. ‘This for one thing,’ I said and I threw it down on the table in front of him so that the fivers spilled out of it and lay there, white and ‘crisp, black-inked like funeral cards. ‘You let me bring that back for you, not knowing what it was.’ I watched him staring down at them uncomfortably and I went on, ‘Now suppose you tell us the truth — why you took that money, why you didn’t tell the Court about Dellimare’s offer.’ I hesitated, still staring at him, but he wouldn’t meet my gaze. ‘You took that money from his cabin after he was dead, didn’t you?’

‘Yes.’ His voice sounded weary, exhausted.

‘Why?’

‘Why?’ He lifted his eyes then, staring straight at me, and they were suddenly the eyes of the man I had first met on the Mary Deare. ‘Because it was there, I suppose. I didn’t reckon it belonged to him any more … Oh, I don’t know.’ He was frowning, as though trying to concentrate on something that didn’t interest him. He seemed to be lost in some private hell of his own creation. ‘I suppose I was a fool to take it. It was dangerous. I realised that afterwards. But at the time … well, I was broke, and when you know you’ve got to fight a company to prove you did your best to bring a ship home that they didn’t want brought home …’ He let it go at that, his mind still on something else.

‘Is that why you didn’t tell the Court about Dellimare’s offer?’ I asked.

‘No.’ He got suddenly to his feet. ‘No, it wasn’t that.’ He stood for a moment looking out through the open hatch and then he came back to the table. ‘Don’t you understand yet?’ His eyes were fixed on my face. ‘I killed him.’

‘Dellimare?’ I stared at him in shocked silence.

‘He didn’t go overboard,’ he said. And then, after a pause, he added, ‘His body is still there on the Mary Deare.’

I was so staggered I could think of nothing to say. And then suddenly he began to pour out the whole story.