Once Bernie had calmed down, Jenkins finished his story.
“After the accident I took over the wheel, at the same time as trying to search for Jack through the telescope. Dusk fell and it became useless. So I set a course for Portpatrick, the nearest harbour. I needed to contact the police and report what had happened. And I was worried about you, Bernie. You hadn’t said a word since Jack disappeared overboard. You just sat there trembling in a corner of the wheelhouse.”
The Chief said, “I’ve never myself seen a man go overboard, but I can’t imagine anything worse.”
“And what happened wasn’t your fault,” Jenkins added. “Don’t forget that, Bernie!”
Bernie’s eyes moved from the Chief to Jenkins. He swallowed hard and nodded.
Jenkins was silent for a while before continuing.
“Moira had no intention of letting me go to the police. She wanted us to return to Glasgow rather than seek a safe harbour. 500
‘If you don’t do as I say,’ she warned me, ‘I’ll make sure that you’re the one who gets the blame for Jack’s death. I’ll tell them that you forced me into conning him. And I’ll say you were the one who threw him overboard. It will be your word against mine and you know that I can be very, very convincing, don’t you?’
Moira frightened the life out of me. She was the most convincing liar I’ve ever met and I realized she wouldn’t think twice about getting me hanged. So in the end I gave in. She could have it her way.
During our journey back to Glasgow, Rose searched through every nook and cranny in the cabin hunting for the necklace. But it came to nothing. She was furious and tried to get me to suggest where else on the ship Jack might have hidden the precious piece. But I didn’t have any idea at all.
Once safely back in Glasgow we moored SS Rose at an isolated wooden quay outside Clydebank. Before we split up, Moira emphasized to me again that I’d be the one to end up on the gallows if I went to the police.
‘Change your name and get out of the country,’ she said. ‘That’s your best chance.’
And that’s what happened. A couple of days later and I was in London and from there, travelling on a false passport, I took ship for America. I’ve been called Harvey Jenkins ever since. 501The only part of my old life I took with me was the blind chick I’d looked after in the forecastle of the Rose. And he’s gone too now.”
“I really liked that bit about the tornado in Oklahoma,” the Chief said.
Jenkins gave a tired smile and a shrug of his shoulders.
“It wasn’t all a lie, you know. I really did have a small farm in Oklahoma for a time. And it was destroyed by a tornado.”
He sighed before going on.
“Fate hasn’t been kind to me! But when I chanced upon the old Rose at the quayside in Lisbon a year ago, I thought it might be a sign from the higher powers. Because of the pearl necklace I’d been condemned to a rootless existence, so it would be no more than just if the same pearl necklace brought a touch of gold to my old age.”
Jenkins sighed again and looked at me.
“I went round the harbour asking about you two and was told one thing and another. Then I came up with a plan that would give me an opportunity to search the ship. I know it was wrong of me to deceive you,” he said. “I’m ashamed of myself about that.”
I held out my hand to Jenkins to show that all was forgiven.
502The damp night air had seeped in through my overalls and the others were feeling the cold, too. Jenkins began to stand up, his legs stiff.
“Something hot to drink would be good now, wouldn’t it?” he said. “You’re welcome to spend the night in my van, because I imagine you’ll be travelling on south tomorrow.”
The Chief nodded.
“Why don’t you come with us?” the Chief suggested to Jenkins. “Then you could tell your story to Rose yourself.”
Jenkins considered the suggestion for a few minutes, but then he said, “Thanks for the invitation. But I know you’ll tell my story honestly and, when all’s said and done, what matters is that Rose gets the necklace.”
We walked back through the small wood to the silent and dark funfair. When we came to Jenkins’s van he suddenly stopped at the steps leading up to his door.
Someone had placed a cardboard box on one of the steps. It was tied with a red ribbon, which had been knotted into a rosette on top. My sensitive nose picked up the scent of a familiar perfume in the air.
“What on earth’s this?” Jenkins said, picking up the box.
Then he too recognized the perfume.
“Margosha must have been here. How strange. We don’t usually give one another presents.” 503
Jenkins carefully untied the ribbon, opened the box and looked in. Then a smile lit up his face as he reached in and came out with a week-old chick sitting on the palm of his hand.
Jenkins held the chick up to the light of the paraffin lamp that was hanging over the door of the van.
“Too early to say whether it’s a hen or a cock,” he said. “But whichever it is, I’m sure we’ll be friends.”
He put the chick in his pocket. The little bird was just big enough to poke its head over the edge of his pocket.
“Life goes on,” Jenkins said, gently stroking the chick’s head with his thumb.
Then he peered out into the darkness towards Margosha’s tent, where a weak light was visible between the tent flaps.
“I’ll put the kettle on the stove now,” Jenkins said to me.
“Would you mind going over to Margosha’s and asking whether she’d like to come over for a cup?”
I was more than happy to do so.