part0020

Now, Grace was sitting a few miles south of the Bell Rock Lighthouse, rising and falling on the swell. Marie and the girls were huddled amidships, swathed in layers of extra clothing, while Watters had pressed Ragina into coming along to act as crew and steersman.

'You know the local conditions,' Watters said and grudgingly agreed to pay his crewman for his services.

Now they were out on the sea with the wind whipping spindrift from the wave crests and seagulls screeching in a raucous chorus. Holding a pawnshop-purchased telescope to his eye, Watters balanced against the uneven motion of the boat to examine the distant fishing boats.

'Can you see anything?' Marie asked.

'Aye. The lads are fishing. Longlining for mackerel by the look of it, and not doing too badly either. They must have struck on a shoal there.' Watters passed the telescope to Ragina. 'See what you make of them.'

Ragina raised the telescope and nodded. 'That's your sort, boys! No, not like that! You're making a right haggis of that, you useless buttons!' He shook his head. 'I think these boys have already been at the gin. Look at the way they're handling that line!' Shaking his head, he focussed again. 'Now that's what we've come here for. Here she comes round the Inchcape! See that, Sergeant Watters? If that's not a coper, I don't know what is!'

'A what?' Amy asked.

'A coper.' Watters took back the telescope, extended it to its fullest extent and balanced on the foredeck of the madly swaying boat. 'There's a brig coming from the lee of the Inchcape, right enough. She's wearing no colours, but I'd wager that she's foreign built.'

Amy looked up curiously. 'Is that important, Sergeant Watters?'

'It might be.' Watters passed back the telescope and settled down between the thwarts.

Ragina nodded. 'Aye, she's a Dutchy, sure as death. They control the coper trade from Dunkirk to the Dogger and all points north. Dutchy, and that's the end of it.'

'Coper? Could somebody tell me what a coper might be?' Amy did not flinch as a wave splintered on the prow, spattering her with spindrift .

'Amy asked you a question.' Marie poked at Watters's sore leg until he replied.

'Copers are seagoing dealers in gin or other spirits, Miss Amy. Sometimes fishermen call them grog-ships or the Devil's floating parlours. They come out of the Dutch ports, often at night, and sell their stuff at sea. Their main customers are fishing boats, but as my lady wife has already reminded me, it's unusual for them to come this far north. Normally they infest the Dogger Bank, where the English trawler fleets work.' Watters adjusted the sail a fraction to keep Grace's head toward the wind.

'So why are they here?' Marie directed the question at Ragina. 'Is there a reason?'

Ragina shrugged. 'Maybe they're searching for new custom, Mrs Watters. Fishermen like the copers, but the stuff they sell is often rot-gut, kill-me-deadly firewater, the roughest of rough poison. I've heard of entire crews of English trawlers falling overboard drunk or just dying on deck. The Dogger Bank is notorious for fishing up dead bodies, and these copers are the cause of many of them. They're bad news. '

Mari fidgeted, looking at the girls. 'Can't the Royal Navy do anything about them? Chase them away?'

'Not normally,' Ragina said. 'They usually operate outside the three-mile limit.'

'How about the deaths? Can't they be blamed for that?'

'Seamen don't have the same laws as on land. Nobody has to even report a death on a fishing boat, not unless there's damage to gear as well. Fishermen's lives are worth that,' Ragina snapped his fingers, 'or maybe a bit less.'

A rogue wave battered Grace sideways. Marie took hold of Amy. 'Are you girls all right?'

'This is exciting.' Amy seemed to be enjoying herself. 'Are you going to arrest the Dutchy, Sergeant Watters?'

'No, I can't,' Watters said. He frowned. 'I was wrong. That's no Dutchy. If that boat's not French, then I'm a Chinaman.'

'A Frenchie, Sergeant?' Amy said. 'What's a Frenchie doing here?'

'I wish I knew what she's doing here.' Watters had spent at least one night a week training up his Volunteers in case of a French landing. He had seen the Armstrongs of Broughty Castle exercised in case a French fleet should sail up the Tay, and now, here was a French vessel openly trading a few miles off the Scottish coast. He frowned, remembering William Caskie's dealings with the Continental arms manufacturers. Was this vessel a spy? Surely not. Watters shook his head; he was never a man to believe the rumours spread by the lurid press, and he was not about to start now.

'She's selling grog by the looks of it.' Watters focussed on the two-masted foreign vessel around which the fishing boats were clustered. 'Maybe she's just smuggling.'

'Maybe she is.' Marie replied. 'Do you want to sail closer and challenge her?'

'Not with you and the girls on board,' Watters said, 'but I will be alerting Mr Mackay and the customs officer at Dundee. I think I've seen enough here.' He ordered Ragina to return Grace to Broughty Ferry. 'I'll get Scuddamore and Duff to stand guard over the girls.'

'I'll stay with them too,' Marie said.

'Sergeant Watters.' Once they were on course for Broughty, Ragina had requisitioned the telescope. Now he had it focussed on the quarterdeck of the French vessel. 'There's that woman I told you about.'

'Look after the boat.' Watters took back the telescope to concentrate on the coper. Dressed in a seaman's white trousers and blue jacket, with a cap struggling to hold her flowing hair in place, Isabella Navarino stood on the raised quarterdeck of the brig. On one side of Navarino stood the man with the feathered bowler; on the other side was William Caskie.

Watters took a deep breath. What the devil is Caskie doing out here?

'Are you all right, George? May I see?' Marie knew her husband too well.

'I'm fine, thank you.' Watters lowered the telescope. He could not allow Amy or Elizabeth to see William Caskie. 'I'm just a little surprised to see a woman as master of a ship.'

Marie shook her head. 'I know,' she said. 'Women have a habit of surprising men. That's not what's bothering you, George. '

'I'll tell you later.' Watters kept his head down. He did not wish Caskie to recognise him or the girls. 'Take us back as fast as Christ will let you, Ragina.' He felt Marie's stare. She knew he only blasphemed when he was worried.

It was indicative of Watters's state of mind that he accepted Murdoch's invitation to a game of billiards in Russell's Royal Hotel the next evening and then played badly. Since it had been refurbished a decade before, Russell's on Union Street boasted the finest billiards room in Scotland, but Watters failed to recapture any of the skill he had possessed as a young man. He could only watch as Murdoch rattled the balls home.

'You're not concentrating, George.' Murdoch placed his cue against the table, leaned against the polished wooden panels of the wall and ordered another round of whisky-and-water. 'What's on your mind? Those fishermen buying all that foreign gin?' He grinned, dismissing the matter as unimportant.

'Not so much,' Watters said. He cued, hit his mark, and watched the ball spin nowhere. 'But that French coper was a bit worrying. I warned the customs officer, and I told the Navy too.'

'Oh?' Murdoch potted his ball, cued for another, and stopped. 'What did you tell them? There's a French brig off the Inchcape Rock? I wager they did not thank you for the information, or do you think that the French are going to land in the Tay? Louis Napoleon III will lead ten thousand French soldiers, fresh from Mexico into Dundee, to rape and spoil and plunder?'

'Why is William Caskie on a French ship when he should be on honeymoon?' Watters watched the balls run true for Tulloch. 'And this woman, Isabella Navarino, is trouble. The first time I met her, she was mixed up with a stolen ship. How did Caskie get involved with her?'

'Blessed if I know,' Murdoch said. 'That's not your job, George. You're a Dundee policeman. Your job is to investigate crime in Dundee, not sail the seven seas after Frenchmen and whatnots. In fact, your present job is to nursemaid young Amy Beaumont.'

'There's more.' Watters watched as Murdoch potted three balls in quick succession. 'I've heard that Rogers is building a ship for a foreign buyer, either the Emperor of China or Napoleon of France, so I'm told.'

'Oh? Good. More work for the lads.' Murdoch looked over his shoulder. 'The Emperor of China and Napoleon ideas are only covers, of course. They're fictitious names to hide the real buyer. Why so glum, Rab; would you rather we were like Lancashire, with thousands of men idle and the factory chimneys quiet?'

'French ship offshore with Dundee businessmen on board, a foreign ship being built in Dundee, Volunteers drilling at Broughty Ferry…' Watters closed his eyes.

'And?' Murdoch had not clawed his way to a Dundee police sergeant without knowing how to read men. 'What else, George?'

'Beaumont, Willie. Jimmy Gall, the boat builder, tells me Beaumont is having this ship built at Rogers's for the foreign buyer.'

'Then your answer's as plain as a drunken prostitute at a Free Kirk sermon, Dode. Ask Beaumont straight. He's a businessman, not an idiot. I doubt that he would build a ship for the French, no matter how much money was involved. You can't trust these Frogs. Remember the last Napoleon Bonaparte? They're a bad lot.' Murdoch cleared the table with a rapid display of skill that left Watters in despair. 'This night's costing you a fortune, George. Another game?'

'Better not.' Watters paid his dues. At a sixpence a game, he was losing a quarter of a day's pay with every two games that Murdoch won. 'You're in form today, Willie. But keep your ears open for me, will you? In case there are any strangers in town.'

'This is a nautical town, George. There are hundreds of strangers!' Murdoch laughed. 'Aye, I know what you mean. I'll watch out for anything suspicious. More importantly, I'll ask the better half too; Ruthie never misses a trick, sharp as a needle, my girl!'

'I believe these are yours, Watters.' Mackay passed over the wallet of lock picks. He sat silently, waiting for Watters to comment.

'Yes, they are, sir. Where were they found? '

'In the covered shed at Rogers' Yard,' Mackay said. 'It seems that somebody broke in. Perhaps they were trying to steal a ship.'

'That's been done before, sir.' Watters placed the wallet in his pocket.

'Not by you, I hope. Did you find anything interesting?' Mackay's Caithness accent was pronounced as he leaned forward.

'I did not have time, sir.' There was no point in lying to Mackay. 'As soon as I got into the shed, three dogs attacked me.'

'I heard the watchman fired a shot as well,' Mackay said dryly. 'He boasted that he chased away a whole band of desperadoes, half a dozen at least.'

'It was dark, sir. He would not see clearly.'

Mackay grunted. 'I don't approve of my officers acting outwith the law, Watters, however noble their intentions. Why were you there?' His fingers drummed on the table as Watters told him about Beaumont financing the ship for a foreign owner, William Caskie's conversation with the French and Belgian arms manufacturers, and Caskie's presence on the French coper .

'Who was Caskie meeting?' Mackay's question was direct.

'I don't know, sir,' Watters admitted.

'You found nothing in Rogers' Yard.'

'No, sir. The workmen believe the ship is being built for either the Emperor of China or of France.'

'We know the China idea is nonsense,' Mackay dismissed the suggestion out of hand. 'I am not happy about this business at all, Watters. I sent you to guard young Amy, not to play tomfool games in a shipbuilding yard or go pleasure boating.'

'Yes, sir.' Watters lifted his head. 'I wish to solve this case, sir, even if others may not.'

'And what the deuce does that mean?' Mackay's face turned an angry red.

Watters avoided a direct answer. He needed to keep his position. 'I believe that there are people in Dundee who are not being as helpful as they should, with Mr Beaumont possibly among that number. I think there is a political angle here with either France or one or other of the American powers involved.'

Mackay's frown deepened. 'You are a sergeant of police, Watters, not a politician or a diplomat.' His fingers rapped urgently on the desk and then stilled as he closed his hand into a fist. 'Your duty is to ensure the safety of Amy Beaumont. Sergeant Anstruther is now pursuing the supposed murder on Lady of Blackness . If you happen to chance upon anything political, bring it to me. I will notify Sir John Ogilvy and let him deal with the government side of things. We will stick to what we know.' Mackay's index finger recommenced the tapping. 'Do you understand, Watters?'

'Yes, sir,' Watters agreed.

'Good.' Mackay relaxed a little. 'Now that's cleared up, I can tell you that Sergeant Anstruther is no further forward with the murder case or the fire-raising. He would be happy to hand the case back to you.'

'Yes, sir.' Watters nodded. 'My men, Duff and Scuddamore, have interviewed the people of the Dundee and Forfarshire Anti-slavery Alliance again and again without learning any more. They don't know the identities of the man and woman who paid them.'

Mackay nodded. 'Are you convinced that they are guilty of fire-raising? '

'Yes, sir. They admit freely that they set the fires in the factories; they seem quite proud of it.'

'The same reason as before, sir; they say that Beaumont is dealing with the Confederate states, the slave states.' Watters shook his head. 'Mr Beaumont told me that he stopped trading with the South over a year ago.'

Mackay sighed. 'These Alliance people are blasted idiots. They've endangered the lives of scores of mill workers because a couple of foreigners told lies about a Dundee businessman. Now they'll spend months or maybe years in prison.'

'As you say, sir, they are blasted idiots.' Watters had no sympathy for people who pushed forward their ideas at the expense of innocent people. 'They could easily have been murderers as well.'

'Have you found that fellow Jones yet?'

'No, sir.' Tempted to remind Mackay that he had been babysitting Amy Beaumont in Ness House, Watters thought it politic to keep his tongue still.

'Do you have any fresh ideas, Watters?'

'Jones could be on board any ship sailing from any port in Britain under a different name. '

Mackay grunted. 'Keep searching. He could be the key to the whole thing. What's your next move?'

'I am moving in six directions at the same time, sir. I have the mysterious American, the even more mysterious foreign woman, the French coper, the ship being built at Rogers' Yard, Richard Jones and Captain Isabella Navarino.' Watters forced a smile. 'If you could spare another couple of men…'

'We're overstretched as it is,' Mackay interrupted. 'Indeed I'm thinking about pulling Duff and Scuddamore into other duties. Since you arrested the Dundee and Forfarshire Anti-slavery Alliance, there have been no further arson attempts or attacks on the Beaumont household. I'm beginning to think the foreign woman and the American are figments of that group's imagination.'

'There was the mannequin in Beaumont's bed, sir…'

'I'm wondering if we all overreacted to a child's joke. Probably one of the younger daughter's friends.' Mackay dismissed the incident with a wave of his hand. 'I can't see you solving the Calcutta business now, Watters. As you say, your man Jones will probably have already shipped out.'

Watters shook his head. 'I don't agree, sir. I don't think we've reached the bottom of this case yet.'

Mackay's fingers began to drum once more. 'What do you have in mind?'

'I'm still stuck in Ness House with young Amy, sir, but I've ordered Scuddamore and Duff to watch Rogers' Yard for any foreigner, particularly any French-looking foreigner.' Watters grinned. 'Not that I know how to tell a Frenchman from anybody else.'

Mackay stood up. 'You can leave Ness House, Watters. Mr Beaumont wants his daughter back. Apparently, Mr Beaumont's elder daughter is returning home tomorrow, and he would like you to bring Amy back to greet her sister. Mr Beaumont also thinks the threat is gone now if it ever existed.'

Watters thought about Isabella Navarino and the French vessel. 'Yes, sir.' He headed for the door.

'Watters,' Mackay called him back. 'I'll give you one week. You have seven more days to find something positive, and then I will call a halt to this case. That is all. '

Seven days. Watters felt as though Marie was correct, and Mackay was moving him from pillar to post so that he could not delve too deeply into the Lady of Blackness murder.