The Scuttlers by Malcolm Archibald

Author:Malcolm Archibald [Archibald, Malcolm]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Next Chapter

“We’ll have to be careful,” Watters took Boyle aside. “Neilson, the carpenter thought he recognised you.”

“He might have seen me on the beat,” Boyle said at once. “Dundee is not all that big a place, Sergeant. Maybe it was the chippie who tried to kill me.”

Watters grunted. After years in the police, he thought he knew men. “I don’t think so,” he said.

Boyle accepted Watters judgement. “I am surprised nobody recognised you, though. You’re much better known than I am.”

Watters stroked his beard. “People tend to see what they expect to see, and this simple disguise helps,” he said. “And I’ve altered my stance. That was Marie’s idea.”

Boyle smiled. “All the boys say that Mrs Watters is part of the force.”

“Do they? Well, the boys had better keep their opinions to themselves,” Watters said, unsure whether to be pleased or irritated. “And you be careful. Keep out of Neilson’s way if you can.”

Marie part of the force? The police would be lucky to have her. Watters pictured her with Patrick on her knee, smiled, and shook away the image. Thinking of Marie would only weaken him, and he needed to concentrate on the case.

“A rolling sound from below?” Masterton glared at Watters as though he was a mortal enemy. “You’re imagining things, man. You blasted first voyagers are all the same! You think the tiniest thing will sink the ship.”

“I wondered what it might be,” Watters persisted. “What with half Mr Muirhead’s fleet sinking and stories about scuttlings.”

“It’s your imagination; that’s what it is,” Masterton said. “Now get back to work, you lazy lubber!”

Henderson gave the same reply, with additional expletives as he gave his opinion of landsmen, first voyagers who asked stupid questions, and the world in general. Yet when Watters watched him, Henderson’s eyes were thoughtful and later that day, he slipped below decks.

The storm came from the north, sending waves battering at Lancelot’s hull. Again, Masterton called for all hands, and Watters scrambled aloft, balancing on a footrope as he struggled to control acres of stiff canvas.

“Fist it!” Henderson shouted. “Don’t let it beat you!” He shook away the rainwater from his face. “This is sailoring, Walker! This is why you signed articles!”

As Watters struggled, he saw Boyle off to his right, furling the sail as if born to it. Watters grunted. Was there nothing that man could not do? He had only been on board a few days, and already he was acting like a prime seaman.

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