ADAM LEFT THE WAREHOUSE AND went straight down to the town docks, where fishermen were bringing in their catches.
“You sure you haven’t seen anyone like him?” Adam asked a couple of men who were bringing in small barrels of fish they had caught.
They shook their heads. One of them said, “We ain’t seen nobody ’cept the same ol’ rascals out here on the water every day.”
The other man said, “Maybe you ought to run over there to Baldwin’s place. He’s keepin his fingers in everything that’s happenin down here.”
“I thank you, gentlemen,” Adam said, before walking off in the direction of Baldwin’s Chandlery.
Faulkner Baldwin had been a merchant like Emmanuel up until about five years ago. His business had fallen apart after Richard Rasquelle started picking off his customers. Now that Rasquelle was gone, Baldwin had set up shop in the building that had been Rasquelle’s warehouse. Baldwin wasn’t operating a mercantile business now, though. When he returned to Beaufort, he met with Emmanuel, and the two of them agreed that Beaufort needed a good well-stocked store for ship supplies, so it was decided that Emmanuel would import the goods if Faulkner Baldwin would agree to sell them.
Adam had a burning feeling in the pit of his stomach when he first went through the door on the street side of Baldwin’s Ship Chandlery. He remembered the night he had sneaked in there to spy on Rasquelle as though it were yesterday.
The place looked quite a bit different now, though. There were still some barrels along a couple of walls in the place, but now there was a long counter set up at the western end of the building, where Baldwin conducted his sales business.
“Good day, sir,” said the short, balding roly-poly man behind the counter. “What might I help you with today?”
Adam crossed the warehouse to where the middle-aged fellow stood and offered to shake his hand. “Hello, sir. My name is Adam Fletcher. I work for Emmanuel Rogers—he’s also my grandfather—and I’m afraid I’ve not had the pleasure of making your acquaintance.”
Baldwin enthusiastically shook Adam’s hand. “Oh well! Nice to meet you, boy! You’re Emmanuel’s grandson, you say? I never even knew he had a family.”
Adam grinned and nodded but didn’t respond to that comment. He hadn’t said it to boast about his family relationship to Emmanuel, but rather to establish that he wasn’t just some stranger wandering in off the street looking for information.
“Listen, sir,” said Adam, “I was told you might be able to help me out with some information. I’ve been told that you know what’s happening down here at the docks better than just about anybody. I was wondering if you knew anything of a man named Ben, or Harmon, who left this town several days ago. He stayed briefly at the Topsail Tavern as a musician, but he left one morning, and no one knows for sure where he’s gone.”
Baldwin shook his head. “No, I’m afraid I haven’t heard of anybody like that.”
“It’s possible he was using an alias,” said Adam. “Have any strangers that you know of hired any captains you know to take them away from here?”
“I can’t say that I’ve heard about any strangers hiring any local captains to take them anywhere. Remember it’s winter. Folks aren’t much for traveling in this kind of weather.”
Adam nodded in agreement. “That’s true. This man said he was headed south—to Charleston. Have there even been any ships leaving here that you know of that were headed in that direction, strangers on board or not?”
“Well, let’s see here… let me think…” Baldwin leaned forward and rested his chubby elbows on the counter. He ran his finger down some sort of list that was in front of him, then seemed to cross-reference what he had seen there with a calendar he had written out on another paper. “Mm-hmm. Right here, see?” He turned the list and the calendar around and pointed to a date from two weeks earlier. “See, on this day Mr. George Cherry—you know who he is, don’t you?—he left with his wife and children to his wife’s family’s estate in Tortola. There was a death in the family, you know. They went to settle affairs and so Mrs. Cherry can claim her inheritance. I don’t reckon they’ll be back until spring, or maybe longer.”
“And they left two weeks ago?” Adam asked. “Was this common knowledge? I mean, did many folks know about this?”
“Who’s to say?” said Baldwin. “I knew about it, but I haven’t any idea if he went around telling folks about it.”
Adam nodded. “Mr. Cherry doesn’t have any slaves, does he? And I don’t reckon he’ll have any servants staying on the grounds while he’s away, will he?”
“Ah, no,” said Baldwin. “You know him. He’s a Quaker. They don’t believe in keeping slaves. But I do know he has a neighbor who was going to check in on his estate from time to time until the Cherrys return—just to make sure everything is in order. You understand?”
“Yes,” said Adam. “Well, there’s no chance this Ben fellow could’ve gotten hired to go down to assist the Cherry family on their journey to Tortola. He was still here a week ago.”
“That’s what I was telling you,” said Baldwin. “Other than the regulars going in and out fishing and shrimping and whatnot, there’s been no vessel that could’ve taken this man north, south, or east—at least not leaving from this port. I’d know about it.”
“That’s fine,” said Adam. “Keep your ears open, if you would. Please send word down to us if you hear anything.”
“Will do,” said Baldwin. “What do y’all want with this fellow anyhow?”
“We believe he killed Ed Willis, and others as well. He’s dangerous and should not be given shelter or transportation by anyone for any reason, unless it’s in irons and to the gaol.”