The Ruby in the Smoke

  "Now she had a bit of a reputation, the Lavinia. Not so much her as the owners, perhaps. There's rogues enough in the China Sea, God knows, from smugglers to pirates to every kind of cut-throat - but Lockhart and Selby were a stranger kind of crook than that. Worse, maybe."

  "Not my father," said Sally fiercely.

  "No," said Bedwell, "I grant you that. Your father was a good man - I learnt that within two days of his coming aboard. It was the other men using his name and the firm's that brought it the reputation it had."

  "But what was this reputation?" said Frederick.

  Bedwell looked at his glass, and Sally filled it.

  "I don't know what you know about the Chinese in the East Indies," he said. "There's all kinds of networks of influence and pressure - political, commercial, criminal... And there are the secret societies. They started, so they say, as a way of organizing resistance to the Manchu dynasty that rules China. And I dare say some of 'em are innocent enough - just a way of looking after your own people or your relatives, with a bit of ritual thrown in. But there's others far more sinister than that. The Triads, they're called--"

  "I know 'em!" said Jim suddenly. "The Black Dragon Society! And the Brothers of the Scarlet Hand! There was a story about them in Stirring Tales for British Lads."

  "Oh, hush, Jim," said Sally. "This is serious. Go on, Mr Bedwell."

  "I don't suppose your penny magazine knows the half of it, my lad. Murder - torture - I'd sooner fall into the hands of the Spanish Inquisition than cross the Triad Societies."

  "But what's the connection with Lockhart and Selby?" Sally asked.

  "Well, the word was that the firm - its agents and its directors - was bound up with one of these societies. Under the orders of its leaders."

  "What!" said Frederick.

  "All of them?" said Sally. "Even a man called Hendrik van Eeden? My father said he could be trusted."

  "I don't know him, Miss Lockhart. But there are dozens of agents, and this was only a rumour. Very likely your father was right."

  "What happened when he joined the ship?"

  "Well, the first thing that happened was that we lost a cargo. Mr Lockhart came aboard unexpectedly. He had a servant with him - a Malayan fellow called Perak. Never used to leave his side. Anyway, we were due to take on a cargo of cloth, and it was suddenly cancelled. We were given orders to sail out in ballast, and then that was cancelled too. Finally we shifted to another berth and took a load of manganese on board. We were in harbour for a week."

  "Who gave these orders?" said Frederick. "Mr Lockhart?"

  "No. The local agent. Mr Lockhart was angry, and went back and forth I don't know how many times between the harbour and the office. I didn't blame him; I didn't like that way of running things - it was unbusinesslike and careless. Nor did he, and I guess he saw my feelings. It was during that week that we got talking. Perak the servant used to make notes - he'd been a clerk, Mr Lockhart said.

  "Anyway, we finally set sail from Singapore on June the 28th, intending to sail to Shanghai with this load of manganese. And on the first afternoon out, we saw the black junk.

  "Now those seas are mighty busy, of course, and a junk is only what you expect in that part of the world; but I didn't like the look of this one. High in the water, with a dark hull and sails, and an air of watching us. She stayed abeam for two days and nights, and we could have outsailed her easily - that high hull means they catch all the wind, and they can't tack like a schooner. We should have left her behind and made good speed to the northeast, but we didn't.

  "The fact was, the Captain seemed to be dawdling on purpose. Mr Lockhart was no sailor, else he'd have seen at once that we weren't making anything like the speed we could and the Captain, a man called Cartwright, did what he could to keep me out of Mr Lockhart's way. Anyway, he spent most of the time in his cabin, writing up his notes.

  "That was a strange time. Drifting, almost, further and further away from the shipping lanes, while little by little all the work on board came to an end... I kept on at the Captain, but he just brushed me aside. The men just lay about in the shade, while that ugly black hull was never off the horizon. Just crawling, creeping, dawdling across the water... It was beginning to drive me mad.

  "Then on the second night it happened.

  "I was standing the middle watch. It was about one in the morning; a sailor called Harding was at the wheel, and that cursed black junk was still hulking in the darkness off to port. Except that it wasn't dark. There was no moon, but the stars - you've never seen stars, if you've only seen 'em from England. They don't twinkle faintly in the tropics, they blaze; and the sea ... it was alive with phosphorescence. Our wake and our bow-wave were great swirling tracks made up of billions of spots of white light, and all the sea on both sides was full of deep glowing movements - fishes darted through the depths, great shimmering clouds and veils of shadowy colour, little surges and whirlpools of light far below - once or twice in your life you get a night like that, and it's a sight to leave you breathless. And the junk was the only thing in the whole glowing panorama that was dark. They had one reedy little yellow lantern swinging at the masthead - the rest was solid blackness, like a paper cut-out, like a puppet in one of the shadow-plays they have out there.

  "And then Harding, the helmsman, says to me, 'Mr Bedwell, there's a man moving about amidships.'

  "I went to the rail, careful not to make a sound, and sure enough I saw a figure by the portside rail - in the act of climbing over, and down into a boat bobbing by the side. I was about to call out - but in all that great wash of light, I recognized his face. It was the Captain.

  "I told Harding to stay where he was, and raced down the companionway to Mr Lockhart's cabin. It was locked - there was no answer when I banged on it, so I kicked the door down. And then -"

  He stopped, and looked at Sally.

  "I'm sorry, miss. He'd been stabbed."

  Sally felt a rush of anguish sweep up her chest, and tears flooded her eyes and blurred the little room. She shook her head angrily.

  "Go on," she said. "Don't stop."

  "The cabin was overturned. All his papers were scattered on the floor, the bunk was torn open, his trunk was upside down - it was in chaos. And with the Captain leaving the ship and the junk nearby ... I was about to turn and run out to waken the crew, when I heard a groan from the bunk.

  "He was alive. Only just, but he stirred, and I tried to lift him up, but he shook his head.

  " 'Who did this, Mr Lockhart?' I said.

  "He said something I couldn't catch, and then he came out with two words that made my blood run cold. 'Ah Ling,' he said. 'The black junk - it's his ship. The Captain...' He could say no more for the moment. My mind was racing, Ah Ling - if it was his ship, then we were done for. Ah Ling was the most murderous, bloodthirsty savage in the South China Sea. I'd heard his name scores of times, and it was never spoken without a shudder.

  "And then Mr Lockhart spoke again. 'Find my daughter, Bedwell. My daughter Sally. Tell her what happened...' I'm sorry, Miss Lockhart; he said some more things then, and they were all jumbled - or else I couldn't hear him clearly... I don't know. But he finished up, 'Tell her to keep her powder dry.' That's all I remember clearly. He said that, and then he died."

  Sally's face was wet. Those words - keep your powder dry - were what he always said to her on leaving; and now he had left her for ever.

  "It's all right," she said. "I'm listening. You must tell me everything. If I cry, take no notice. Go on."

  "I gathered he'd dictated a letter to the servant. But I don't suppose it ever got here."

  "It did," said Sally. "That was what started it all."

  Bedwell rubbed his brow. Seeing that the sailor's glass was empty and that he was rapidly tiring, Frederick poured out the last of the brandy.

  "Thank you. Where was I... Well, the next thing that happened was that a strange pattering noise came from overhead, like big soft raindrops. Only it wasn't rain - it was bare feet
running over the deck, and the next second, a great wild cry came from poor Harding at the wheel. And then a sound of smashing wood...

  "I ran up the companionway, and stopped in the shadow at the top.

  "The ship was sinking. There were six or seven Chinese devils smashing in the lifeboats, and two or three of our crew stretched in their own blood on the deck. The ship was listing so much already that I saw one of those corpses start to move, almost as if it were alive, and slide down slowly into the water that was creeping up the deck to meet it...

  "If I live a hundred years I'll never forget the sight of that ship. It's with me still, clearer than this room; I have only to close my eyes and it's before me... The sea full of light, blazing with all the colours of the rainbow, like a huge slow firework display - with crisp little volleys of brightness wherever anything fell into the water, and a line of trembling white fire around the edge of the ship; the still black shape of the junk a little way off; and above us the stars - and they were all colours too, reds and yellows and blue-whites; and the dead men in their blood on the deck, and the pirates chopping swiftly at the boats - and the sensation of sinking, falling slowly into that great bath of light... I'm a slave to a terrible drug, Miss Lockhart; I've spent more days and nights in strange dreams than I care to think about; but nothing I've seen in the smoke has been stranger or more terrible than those few minutes I spent on the deck of the sinking Lavinia.

  "And then I felt a hand tug my sleeve. I turned - and there was the servant Perak, finger to his lips.

  " 'Come with me, Bedwell tuan,' he whispered, and I followed, helpless as a baby. God knows how he'd done it, but he'd lowered the Captain's gig, and it bobbed in the water over the stern. We got in and rowed away - just a little distance. Should I have stayed? Should I have tried to fight off the pirates - bare-handed as I was, and them with cutlasses? I don't know, Miss Lockhart, I don't know...

  "Then the pirates left, and got into their boat and rowed off. The Lavinia was about to sink, and the rest of the crew - those who hadn't been cut to the deck - were struggling to free the lifeboats, and crying out with rage and fear when they saw them stove in. The next minute, the schooner went down - terribly fast, as if a great hand had thrust it into the water. There was an immense swirl, and cries from the sailors as they fell into the sea. The gig was a small boat - it'd hold seven or eight at a pinch; but we could save some of them. I turned it round and rowed towards them.

  "But when we were still fifty yards off, the sharks came. The poor devils didn't have a chance. They were a shiftless, lazy lot, but there was no harm in 'em; and they were doomed before the voyage began...

  "Pretty soon we were alone. The sea was strewn with bits of wreckage - splintered oars and broken spars and the like. We drifted through it all, feeling - nothing. Feeling numb. D'you know, I think I even fell asleep.

  "How that night passed I've no idea; nor why my luck held, so that a Malay fishing boat picked us up the next day. We had no food and no water - we wouldn't have lasted twenty-four hours. They put us ashore at their village, and then we found our way to Singapore. And there..."

  He stopped, and rubbed his eyes wearily. But he kept them closed, and kept his hand over them. Frederick said quietly:

  "Opium?"

  Bedwell nodded. "I made my way to a den and lost myself in the smoke. A week, two weeks - who knows? I lost Perak, too. I lost everything. When I came to myself again I found a berth as Able Seaman on a London-bound steamer, and - well, you know the rest.

  "But you can see now why the ship was sunk. Not by a reef or a typhoon; not for the sake of the insurance.

  "This is how I see it. The word had gone out that Mr Lockhart was aboard, searching around, making inquiries. Someone gave orders to muddle up the cargoes in Singapore so as to keep the ship in harbour for a week, while Ah Ling and his foul crew made haste to come and meet us.

  "Sinking the ship was just a way of concealing your father's murder. One death on its own would look suspicious, but one among many in a shipwreck, especially if there's no body to examine - well, it looks more like an Act of God.

  "The two days' sailing out of Singapore I can't understand. But one thing I've learnt in the East is that nothing's done without a reason; something made them hold off till the night of the thirtieth, when they could have attacked us any time before that... Though I suppose it did get us clear of the shipping lanes.

  "Someone organized all that. Someone powerful and ruthless; someone close to Singapore. It's my guess that the secret society I told you about was at the bottom of it. They have the most terrible penalties for their enemies, or those who betray them.

  "But what they're hiding..."

  There was a silence.

  Sally got up and crossed to the fire, and put a shovelful of coal on the embers, stirring them up into a bright blaze.

  "Mr Bedwell, is it possible - when you take opium, I mean - is it possible for your memory to recall things you'd forgotten?"

  "It's happened many times. As if I were living them again. But I don't need opium to remember that night the Lavinia went down...Why d'you ask?"

  "Oh ... it was something I'd heard. But there's another thing - these secret societies. Triads, are they called?"

  "That's right."

  "And you said the firm's agents were members of one?"

  "Rumoured to be."

  "Do you know which one it was?"

  "I do. And that was where I'd heard the name of Ah Ling the pirate. He was said to be a headman of the same society. It was called the Fan Lin Society, Miss Lockhart - The Seven Blessings."

  Chapter Fourteen

  ARMS AND THE GIRL

  Next morning Sally went out for a walk to think over what Matthew Bedwell had told her. It was damp and cold, and the mist in the air seemed to dull the sound of the traffic. She walked slowly down towards the British Museum.

  So her father had been murdered...

  She had suspected it, of course; Bedwell's story only confirmed her fears. But it was more difficult to unravel now, not less: for even though the meaning of The Seven Blessings was clear now, why should that society have needed to become involved with a shipping firm? And what secret did they have that was so precious that several men's deaths were necessary to keep it hidden? Mr Higgs had known: did Mr Selby? And who was this stranger, the man from the Warwick Hotel, whose letter had so frightened him?

  And then there was her father's dying message: "Keep your powder dry." Be prepared, that meant. Stay on guard.

  Well, she'd been doing that, and she'd carry on doing it; but it didn't explain anything. She wished Mr Bedwell had remembered the other things her father had said - any little clue would have been better than nothing. Perhaps it would come back to him when he'd recovered under his brother's care. She hoped so, profoundly.

  She arrived at the British Museum, and wandered up to the flight of steps. Pigeons pecked among the columns; three girls a little younger than herself, under the care of a governess, climbed the steps, talking cheerfully. She, with her thoughts of sudden death and guns, did not belong in that calm and civilized place.

  She turned back to Burton Street; there was something she wanted to ask Trembler.

  She found him in the shop, arranging a display of portrait frames. She heard Rosa's laughter from the kitchen, and Trembler told her that the Reverend Nicholas had arrived.

  "I knew I'd seen him before," he said. "Two or three year ago in Sleeper's Gymnasium, it was, just when the Marquess o' Queensberry's rules come in. He made a wager with Bonny Jack Foggon, one o' the old bare-knuckle boys. They fought fifteen rounds, him with gloves on and Foggon without, and he won, though he was terrible marked."

  "The other man had bare fists?"

  "Aye, and that was his undoing. See, the gloves protect your hands as well as the other feller's face, and after fifteen rounds he was punching a hell of a lot harder than Foggon, in spite o' Bonny Jack pickling his fists for years. I remember the punch as laid him ou
t - a lovely right cross, and that was the end of it, and the triumph of the Queensberry Rules. Course, Mr Bedwell wasn't a Reverend then. Did yer want something, miss?"

  "Yes... Trembler, do you know where I can get a gun? A pistol?"

  He blew through his moustache - a trick he had when he was surprised.

  "Depends what sort," he said. "I suppose you mean a cheap one."

  "Yes. I've only got a few pounds. And I can't really go into a gunsmith's myself - they'd probably refuse to sell me one. Could you buy one for me?"

  "You know how to use a pistol, do you?"

  "Yes. I had one, but it was stolen. I told you."

  "So you did. Well, I'll see what I can do."

  "If you'd rather not, I can ask Frederick to do it. But I thought that you might know someone..."

  "Someone in the criminal way, you mean."

  She nodded.

  "Well, I might. I'll see."

  The door opened, and Adelaide came in with some newly printed stereographs. Trembler's expression changed, and a huge gap-toothed smile appeared under his moustache.

  "Here's my lady love," he said. "Where you been?"

  "I been with Mr Garland," she said, and then saw Sally. "Morning, miss," she whispered.

  Sally smiled, and went through to join the others.

  On Wednesday afternoon, two days after the stranger had got off the boat, Mrs Holland had a visit from Mr Selby. This was quite unexpected; she hardly knew the etiquette for the polite reception of a blackmail victim, but she did her best. "Come in, Mr Selby," she said, beaming yellowly. "Cup o' tea?"

  "Very kind," muttered the gentleman. "Thank 'ee."

  They exchanged civilities for some minutes, until Mrs Holland began to lose her patience.

  "Well, now," she said. "Out with it. I can see as you're bursting to tell me some good news."

  "You're a clever woman, Mrs Holland. I've conceived an admiration for you in the short time of our acquaintance. You've got hold of something about me - I won't deny it--"