The Wreck Of The Mary Deare

‘Do you think they’d have believed me? It was only my word. I’d no proof. How could I possibly justify…’ His gaze switched to the envelope lying on the table. ‘You see this money?’ He reached out and grabbed up a handful of the fivers. ‘He offered it to me, the whole lot. He had it there in his cabin and he spilled the whole five thousand out in front of me — out of that envelope that’s lying there; and I picked it up and threw it in his face and told him I’d see him in hell before I did his dirty work for him. That’s when I warned him that I’d kill him if he tried to lose me the ship.’ He paused, breathing heavily. ‘And then that gale and the for’ard holds suddenly making water and the fire in the radio shack … when I found him down in that hold-’ He was still staring at me and his features were haggard and drawn, the way I’d first seen them. ‘I was so sure I was justified — at the time,’ he whispered.

‘But it was an accident,’ Mike said. ‘Damn it, you didn’t mean to kill him.’

He shook his head slowly, pushing his hand up through his hair. ‘No, that’s not true,’ he said. ‘I did mean to kill him. I was mad at the thought of what he’d tried to make me do — what he was doing to the ship. The first command I’d had in ten years …’ He was looking down at his glass again. ‘I thought when I put her on the Minkies, that I could get back to her, get rid of his body and prove that he was trying to sink her-’ He was staring at me again. ‘Can’t you understand, Sands … I had to know I was justified.’

‘But it was still an accident,’ I said gently. ‘You could have gone to the authorities…’ I hesitated, and then added, ‘There was a time when you were prepared to — when you altered course for Southampton after rounding Ushant.’

‘I still had the ship then,’ he muttered, and I realised then what his ship meant to a man like Patch. So long as he’d had the Mary Deare’s deck under his feet and he was in command he’d still had confidence in himself, in the Tightness of his actions.

He reached out his hand for the bottle. ‘Mind if I have another drink?’ His tone was resigned.

I watched him pour it, understanding now how desperate was his need to justify himself. I remembered how he’d reacted to the sight of the crew huddled like sheep around Higgins in the office at Paimpol. His first command in ten years and the whole thing repeating itself. It was an appalling twist of fate. ‘When did you feed last?’ I asked him.

‘I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.’ He swallowed some of the drink, his hand still trembling, his body slack.

‘I’ll get you some food.’ I got up and went through into the galley. The stew was still hot in the pressure-cooker and I put some on a plate and set it in front of him. And then I asked Mike to come up on deck.

The freshening wind had thinned the mist, so that the hills were dim, humped-up shapes, their shadows thrown round the cove and falling away to the narrow gap of the entrance. I stood there for a moment, wondering how I was going to persuade him. But Mike had guessed what was in my mind. ‘You want Sea Witch, is that it, John?’

I nodded. ‘For four days,’ I said. ‘Five at the most. That’s all.’

He was looking at me, his face pale in the faint glow of the riding light. ‘Surely it would be better to put the whole thing in the hands of the authorities?’ I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know how to make him understand the way I felt. And after a while, he said, ‘You believe him then — about the Dellimare Company planning to sink the ship in deep water?’

‘I don’t know,’ I murmured. I wasn’t sure. ‘But if you accept that the cargo has been switched, that the whole thing was planned…’ I hesitated, remembering how scared Higgins had been. If Higgins had started that fire and knocked Patch out and panicked the crew … ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I think I do believe him.’

Mike was silent for some time then. He had turned away from me and was staring out towards the entrance. At length he said, ‘You’re sure about this, John? It’s a hell of a risk you’re taking for the fellow.’

‘I’m quite sure,’ I said.

He nodded. ‘Okay. Then the sooner we get under way the better.’

‘You don’t have to come,’ I said.

He looked at me with that slow, rather serious smile of his. ‘Sea Witch and I go together,’ he said. ‘You don’t get the one without the other.’ He glanced up at the masthead. The burgee hadn’t been taken down and it showed the wind westerly. ‘We’ll be able to sail it.’ He was thinking we’d make better time under sail, for our engine was geared for power, not speed.

Down below I found Patch leaning back, the glass in his hand, smoking a cigarette. He hadn’t touched the food. His eyes were half closed and his head lolled. He didn’t look up as we entered.

‘We’re getting under way,’ I told him.

He didn’t move.

‘Leave him,’ Mike said. ‘We can manage. I’ll go and start the engine.’ He was already pulling on a sweater.

But Patch had heard. His head came slowly round. ‘Where are you making for — Southampton?’ His voice had no life in it.