LITMIR.BIZ

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a hand towards the window, where the other ships of this expensive enterprise can be seen rising and falling on the swell. ‘To say nothing of the faith of some of the highest people in the land, including the Queen herself. This is the largest private fleet England has ever sent out. If we should fail before we even leave harbour, I would never again raise the finance for another such venture. I must determine whether there is a killer aboard my ship before the inquest.’

      ‘And what will you do when you find him?’ Sidney asks.

      ‘I will decide that when the time comes.’

      Knollys looks as if he is about to offer another argument, but at the sight of his commander’s face he falls silent. I watch Drake, fascinated by his flinty expression. To lead a company of ships and men to the other side of the world must require a character that inspires loyalty. But what other qualities must it demand? Ruthlessness, in no small measure, I imagine; the willingness, if necessity forces your hand, to declare that the law is whatever you say it is. On board a ship, thousands of miles from shore, you must believe yourself the king of your own small kingdom, and keep your subjects obedient by any means necessary. You would have to act without compunction, and make your decisions without wavering.

      ‘Why before the inquest?’ Sidney asks.

      ‘I was mayor of Plymouth four years ago,’ Drake says. He rests his elbows on the table. ‘I know how the functionaries of the Town Corporation work. The Devonshire coroner could not find a felon if one were hiding behind his bed-curtains. The kind of ham-fisted investigation he would carry out aboard my fleet would achieve nothing but to sow discord and mistrust among the crews and allow the killer every chance to escape. No.’ His right hand closes into a fist and the muscles tighten in his jaw. ‘I mean to find this man myself.’

      He looks around the company as if daring anyone else to question his judgement. The others lower their eyes; there is a prickly silence.

      ‘How many men do you have on board the Elizabeth?’ I ask.

      ‘At present, while we wait in harbour, around eighty men,’ Drake says.

      ‘And no one saw or heard anything? It would seem strange, on such a busy ship, that a man in good health could be subdued and hanged in his own cabin without anyone hearing a disturbance.’

      Drake looks at me. ‘You are right. But Dunne was very drunk the night he died. He had gone ashore with a few of the others. They said he was acting strangely even before they had come within sight of a tavern.’

      ‘Strangely, how?’

      ‘Some of the men said he had a blazing argument in an inn yard, ending with punches thrown on both sides. Then Dunne stormed away and the others didn’t see him again until later. Padre Pettifer, our chaplain, found him wandering in the street and brought him back to the ship. Thomas met them as they were trying to climb aboard.’

      ‘I was returning from dinner with Francis,’ Thomas says. ‘I thought only that Dunne was extremely drunk. He was swaying violently and his talk was very wild.’

      ‘In what way?’

      ‘Like a man in the grip of fever. He kept saying they were at his heels, and pointing out into the night.’

      ‘Who was at his heels?’ Sidney says, leaning forward. Thomas glances at him with disdain.

      ‘Well, if he’d said, we might have a better idea of who to look for.’ He jabs a forefinger into the air. ‘He just kept pointing like a madman, like so, and saying “Do you not see him, Thomas Drake?” When I asked who, he opened his eyes very wide and said, “The Devil himself.”’

      ‘Did you notice anything about his eyes?’ I ask.

      ‘His eyes? It was dark, man,’ Thomas says. Then he seems to relent. ‘Though in that light they appeared very bloodshot, and the pupils dilated. The eyes of a drunken man, as you’d expect.’ He sucks in his cheeks. ‘It is strange. Dunne had his faults, but the bottle was not one of them. It had clearly gone to his head – he even started addressing me as his wife—’

      ‘God help her, if you are easily mistaken in looks,’ Sidney says. Thomas glares him into silence.

      ‘I helped him to his cabin. Told him to sleep it off. Just before we reached the door, he pointed ahead and said, “Martha, why have you brought that horse aboard this ship?” Then he vomited copiously all over the deck and his legs went from under him.’

      ‘We’ve all had nights like that,’ Sidney says.

      ‘Yes, it would be an amusing story, if he had not been found dead the next morning,’ Drake remarks, his face stern. Sidney looks chastened.

      ‘Between us, we laid him on the bed,’ Thomas says. ‘He seemed to fall asleep right away.’

      ‘And no one saw or spoke to him after he returned to his cabin? No one heard anything unusual? Though I suppose it would be difficult to ask too many questions.’ I rub the nail of my thumb along my jaw and think again that I must visit a barber soon.

      ‘You ask a great many questions, Doctor Bruno,’ Thomas Drake mutters. ‘Anyone would think you were the coroner.’

      Sir Francis regards me with shrewd eyes.

      ‘You perceive my problem exactly. Having given out that he died by his own hand, it becomes difficult then to press the men too closely as to what they saw or heard without arousing suspicion.’ He sighs, and pushes his glass away from him. ‘Already some are saying they want to leave while they still can, that this is now a doomed voyage. I have persuaded them to stay for now, but if it is presumed to be murder, it would be impossible to hold a crew together, each man looking at his fellows, wondering who among them is a killer. I must tread very carefully.’

      ‘But one of them is a killer, so you believe,’ Sidney says, a touch of impatience in his tone. ‘So you must find him, or risk him killing again.’

      ‘Thank you, Sir Philip,’ Drake says, with impeccable politeness, ‘but the situation is perhaps more complicated than you understand. In any case, be thankful it is not a problem that need disturb your sleep. You will have your hands full with Dom Antonio. The poor man spends his life running from assassins already – I do not want him staying in Plymouth if there is another close at hand.’

      I see in Sidney’s face the effort it takes not to respond to this courteous dismissal. I half expect him to stand up and announce his intention to travel with the fleet, but perhaps I should give him more credit; even he can see that this is not the time. I frown at the table, already assembling the evidence in my mind, querying the how and the why. In part I am curiously relieved by the news of this death; surely with this shadow cast over the voyage Sidney will not be able to elbow his way aboard and I will be given an easy excuse without having to defy him. And yet there is another part of my brain that snaps to attention at the prospect of an unexplained death to be riddled out – already I am picturing the scene on deck, the last movements of the dead man as he enters his cabin, the ship dark and still. I shake my head to silence the buzzing questions in my mind. This man’s death is not my business, as Drake has made clear enough.

      As if he shared my thoughts, Sidney sits forward and points down the table to me.

      ‘Well, perhaps we are in a position to help you, Sir Francis. You are fortunate that my friend Bruno here is better than a hunting dog for following the scent of a killer. When it comes to unexplained murders, he is your man.’

      He leans back, beaming at me. At this moment, I would willingly push him overboard.

      Drake arches an eyebrow. ‘Is that so? A curious talent for a theologian.’

      ‘I fear Sir Philip exaggerates. On one or two occasions I have happened, by chance, to be—’

      ‘He will not boast of it because he is too modest,’ Sidney cuts in. ‘But I could tell you some tales – Bruno has a prodigious memory and the subtlest mind of any man alive for finding a murderer and bringing

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