The Blighted Cliffs (7 page)

He
pulled a near-empty bottle from under the counter and splashed the
liquid into a cup. I grabbed at it eagerly, and tipped it into my
mouth.

'Jesus!'
There was a searing pain in my throat, and I could feel the evil
spirit trickling down my gullet. 'You could kill a man with that.' If
alcohol was to be the death of me, I did not want it to be a half
measure of cheap gin.

'Sorry,
sir,' said the boy diffidently. 'I forgot you was foreign. Not from
about 'ere,' he explained, before I could protest my English birth.
'Best let it down a bit.' He scooped some water from an open cask and
poured it with my gin. 'That'll do you, sir.'

I
tried another sip. It was no longer immediately lethal, though it
reminded me why I'd never had much taste for it.

'Is
all the drink so strong here?' I asked. If I was to be spending much
time in Dover, this would be important intelligence.

He
scratched the side of his head. 'Reckon so. Not been nowhere else, of
course, but they says it gets weaker the further you goes inland.
Per'aps it don't travel well.' He nodded thoughtfully. 'Must be an
expensive business, gettin' boused up in them parts.'

Doubtless
I could have spent a happy morning enquiring into the local spirit
market with the boy, with plenty by way of illustration; perhaps I
would have done just that after a few more sips of the gin, but at
that moment the sound of a tolling bell drifted through the open
window. I counted the strokes out of habit, but it was only as they
hit seven, passed eight and touched nine that with a great shock I
remembered my meeting with Crawley. All other thoughts vanished from
my head, for I knew I could ill afford to provoke him further.
Without his protection, I would be utterly at Sir Lawrence's mercy.

I
left nay unfinished drink for the boy to drain - doubtless he would
still charge it to my account - and rushed outside, ran for the gate,
then thought of Crawley's concern for appearance and bolted back to
my room to snatch my dress coat. I saw my uncle's letter lying on the
bed and stuffed that into my pocket, then was galloping back down the
stairs three at a time.

I
ran all the way to the harbour, as fast as I could, but the first
bells were still chiming the quarter hour as I arrived outside
Crawley's front door. Ducker showed me in wordlessly.

'Is
it ordained, Lieutenant, that no man shall know the hour of your
coming?' Crawley did not look tip from his desk. 'Or are you
unacquainted with the laws of time?'

'My
apologies, sir,' I stammered hoarsely: the combination of gin and
running had left my throat in agony. I tried to think of the best
light to cast on my excuse. 'I was delayed by a letter from the
Admiralty.'

Crawley
looked up sharply. 'Were you, by God?' he asked. Suspicion consumed
his face, firming its creases to stone. 'And what, pray, did their
lordships have to communicate to you that they felt unworthy of my
attention?'

I
saw immediately my mistake. 'Not an official message, sir, not at
all. Merely a personal communication.' His face darkened still
further. 'A personal communication? What a fine relationship you
must enjoy with their lordships, Lieutenant, that they should see fit
to write personally to a junior officer, behind the back of his
superior.'

This
was going disastrously awry. 'My uncle--' Crawley cut me off. 'Do you
have this personal communication with you, Lieutenant?'

I
nodded the affirmative.

'Do
you believe that a captain should be in full command of all facts
pertaining to his subordinates, particularly those concerning
Admiralty matters?'

What
could I do but nod again?

'Then,
Lieutenant,' he concluded dangerously, 'I suggest you show me this
personal communication that I might judge its significance for
myself.'

I
pulled out the paper and handed it to him. My cheeks stung, as much
from what he had said as what he was about to read, and I could
hardly bear to watch his eyes flickering silently over the page.
Simply standing there became an ordeal, and I desperately wished
myself anywhere but in that cramped, spartan little room.

Crawley
looked up, and to my surprise I saw that the hard set of his mouth
had softened, and that there was a hint of scarlet under the lines of
his face. He cleared his throat awkwardly. 'Well, Lieutenant.' The
bite was quite gone from his voice, and he sounded almost sheepish.
'This is, ah, not what I had anticipated. I must apologize for my
presumption.'

I
thought it might have been the realization of my uncle's position
that had so transformed him, but surely no-one reading that letter
could believe that he offered me any protection, nor that I had any
access to his favour. I could only assume that he must truly have
been shamed by the bile he had found, having expected something

quite
specifically different.

'Still,
this does make your predicament very clear, eh, Lieutenant?' Crawley
looked at me intently. 'You maintain your innocence, I take it?'

'As
a vir - As a baby.'

'Then
what do you intend to do?'

The
question hung in the air; I found myself again confronted full-on
with my impossible alternatives. But in my confusion, I began to see
that I really had little choice. I could hardly announce to Crawley
my intention of deserting, even if I fancied my chances, which I did
not. Sir Lawrence he could keep at arm's length. Which left only one
path. What did I have to lose?

'Naturally,
sir, I am intent on clearing my name of this vile slur.' And if my
name could not be saved, then perhaps at least my neck.

'Of
course.' Crawley was all business now. 'And as you have a mere
fortnight to do so - or rather less, as I see the letter is dated '
yesterday - I suggest you begin immediately. You cannot prove your
own innocence until the real villains are brought to justice.'

'Yes,
sir.'

'The
Lord alone knows how one begins to untangle such a crime,' continued
Crawley. 'But I suspect that you will find rather more enthusiasm for
the task than Constable Stubb. Possibly more intellect as well. And
it seems entirely likely that this foul event may have a more than
passing bearing on our real business of hunting down the smugglers.
Which reminds me: there is a meeting up at the castle this evening to
discuss the smuggling question, and how we and the soldiery are to
co-ordinate our efforts. It may provide you with some clues to the
murderer, if we are fighting the same enemy.

Regardless,
you remain under my command and I shall expect you to continue to
execute your duties as my subordinate officer – or rather, to
begin to execute those duties - in addition to making your personal
enquiries. Six o'clock, and please show a little more regard for the
hour this time.'

'Yes,
sir.' I was quite overwhelmed by his rattling speech, and could think
of nothing better to say.

'You
had better take Ducker with you,' he added. 'I fear you have a knack
of attracting untoward attentions in this town, against which he may
be some protection.'

Keeping
a close eye on me all the while, I thought, though I was in no
position to argue.

'Remember
the words of our Saviour,' Crawley concluded sternly. "Ye shall
know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." Salvation
lies in truth, Lieutenant.'

And
what is truth? I might have asked, but decided against playing Pilate
to his proselytizer. With a hasty mutter of thanks, I fled the room.

'Well,
sir,' said Ducker in the corridor. Clearly he had heard everything.

'Looks
like we'd best be findin' the killer.' He sounded implausibly
optimistic.

'If
we're extremely lucky,' I told him sourly, 'we might even discover
the name of the victim.'

Ducker
reckoned there was little to be done in town: no-one had come forward
to identify the body, let alone his murderer, and it seemed unlikely
there would be any better response to a pair of naval officers
banging down doors. So I decided to make for the cliffs, in the hope
that they might yield some secrets, or that someone living, nearby
might have heard something.

Ducker
was not convinced. 'Could be a bad choice, sir,' he cautioned.

'Why?'
I did not like being second-guessed already.

'The
killer always returns to the scene of the crime, so they says.'

'Does
he? Then perhaps we will catch him there.'

'Not
quite my meanin', sir.' I sensed he was about to argue further, but
he must have thought better of it, for he restricted him self to a
dubious look and kept quiet.

The
tide was rising, so rather than splash along the shoreline, I opted
for the cliff-top. Whatever the coroner might say, I had heard the
gunshot up there, and the thud of something falling from a height: I
was convinced that there the crime had been committed.

Besides,
I did not think that the smugglers had seen the corpse before they
left, and after that I had been the only man on the beach. Which was
of course the magistrate's reasoning, I remembered, and hastily
turned my thoughts elsewhere.

'Ducker?'
I asked, panting as we climbed the steep hill towards the castle.
'You're
Orestes
'
quartermaster, and I her lieutenant, and Crawley her captain. Where's
Orestes
herself?'

'At
anchor. There.' He pointed an arm back towards the harbour, though
from this distance I had no hope of making her out among the forest
of masts. 'The cap'n's got ideas,' he added, half disapprovingly, as
though they might be dangerous.

'Ideas?'

'Cap'n
Crawley reckons there's no gain fightin' smugglers at sea if there's
no-one to catch 'em when they unloads on land. Thought of it one
night after we chased a lugger into shore. By the time we 'ad the
boats away an' boarded 'er, she'd cleared 'er 'old an' was clean as
salt.'

'But
there must be dragoons patrolling the shore?'

'Ridin'
officers,' said Ducker scornfully. 'Drunk. Or ancient. Or in the
smugglers' pockets. An' if they does see somethin' rotten, they 'as
to ride away an' find the dragoons. If they doesn't go runnin' off
the opposite way.'

'And
this scheme is actually designed to catch the smugglers?' It sounded
as though the criminals could hardly have devised it better
themselves.

Ducker
sniffed. 'Cap'n Crawley don't think so. Gets us workin' in shore
parties, or in the boats, most o' the time. Could o' joined the army
if I wanted all that.'

'And
what does the admiral think of him abandoning his command so often?'
I did not imagine that in such desperate times, with the French
menace never far from our shores, he would applaud such profligate
use of his fleet.