Bony - 07 - The Mystery of Swordfish Reef Read online

  There was reason enough to assume all this; and to assume further that after those on the Orcades had lost sight of the dark-grey steam launch, that this launch ran westward to Swordfish Reef to do what was done to the Do-me and those on board her. Then the disguised Dolfin cleared away out to sea to avoid being sighted by other launches. There she was equally able to escape the notice of steamers passing north or south, and only north or south. After dark she ran into Wapengo Inlet where work on removing the grey kalsomine or cold water paint was at once begun. During the night the warship-grey paint would be removed, and day­light would permit any remaining evidence of the kalsomine to be wiped away. Then, perhaps a coat of silver-grey paint would have been applied to make doubly sure that the temporary disguise was removed.

  Again faced by the usual three questions: how was it done? Why was it done? Who did it? Bony was becoming confident of the answer to the third question. The answer to “How was it done?” could for the present be left in abeyance, but the answer to the second question, “Why was it done?” might well be gleaned from the fictitious diary he was compiling from data supplied by the Anglers’ Club secretary, Ericson’s cheque-book, a solicitor’s statements, letters from Ericson to his friend the Chief Commissioner, and the weather records. The diary was fictitious only in that it was to be imagined that Ericson had kept it from day to day, from the time of his arrival at Bermagui to that day he had been murdered, or the day it was assumed that he was murdered.

  Bony continued his work on this diary, and completed it about four o’clock. In a low voice he began to read it, finding that speaking decelerated the speed of his mind, thus making it digest each item in its turn. The diary thus read:

  September 5. Arrived Bermagui by car and found quarters at the Bermagui Hotel. Weather squally and showery.

  September 6. Arranged with Blade for oddments necessary to complete my gear for this tuna fishing. Also arranged with William Spinks about the hire of his launch, the Do-me. Met this evening five other anglers. (Note: Four of these anglers were known to Blade by previous visits. The fifth was a tourist from England, unknown to Blade, named Edwin Henderson. Hen­derson gave his Australian address as the Australian Hotel, Mel­bourne.) Weather fine and wind moderating. Spent the evening in the parlour talking fish with Henderson and Blade.

  September 7. Started fishing today. Weather fine and wind light, but was seasick off and on. Caught ten tuna ranging up to twelve pounds. Great sport with light tackle. Found Do-me to be a stout craft, and the two men keen on the job. Went to bed soon after dinner.

  September 8. Weather good. Was not sick. Feeling very fit. Brought home fifteen tuna and numerous king-fish of no great weight. Put in the evening talking in the parlour with anglers.

  September 9. Another good fishing day. Weather moderate.

  September 10. Too rough to go out today. As time is of no value, I don’t intend to suffer discomfort. Ordered a lunch hamper and tramped south along the road to Tathra from which base line stretches of coast were explored. Like this place very much. Went to bed early.

  September 11. Two of the anglers departed. Fishing moderate. Weather stormy.

  September 12. Fishing much better today. Paid hotel bill.

  September 13. Henderson departed today for Melbourne. Says he will certainly come out again next year. Fishing fair but good in weight. Four ranged from sixteen to twenty-three pounds.

  September 14. Fishing good. Paid Spinks week’s hire of boat.

  September 15. Too rough to fish. Walked to Tilba Tilba, there had lunch at the hotel, and returned late this afternoon. Found that two Sydney anglers and their wives had arrived.

  September 16. Had a great day. Amazed by shoals of tuna south of Montague Island. Fought fish after fish till my arms ached. Gaffed a fine one which Blade weighed at thirty-one pounds. This is an astonishing coast for fish. Seen more today in the water than I have throughout my life. Talked with Blade in the parlour most of the evening.

  September 17. Too rough to go out, although the others did whose time here is limited. Have the idea of settling here and so looked at property for sale. This place is a fisherman’s paradise all right, and they tell me that the swordfishing is excellent from December to April. Went with a Mr Pink and Blade to look at two properties on the outskirts of Bermagui. Saw a plot of land about five acres overlooking the township and the river and the bay. Could build there and be most happy. Blade a charming fellow and very helpful. Prices seem reasonable, but Australian State* and Commonwealth Income Taxes on top of British taxes would be a burden unless I transferred my investments from England.

  *State governments no longer impose income taxes, and have not done so since World War II.

  September 18. Good fishing but sea rough. Talked land and houses with Blade in parlour after dinner. Wrote to Henry and paid hotel account. (Henry—Commissioner of Police.)

  September 19. Fishing good. Weather improved.

  September 20. Rained all day, but sea fairly calm. Fishing good. Biggest tuna weighed twenty-nine pounds. Three more anglers arrived.

  September 21. Another good day. Several anglers departed. Paid hire of launch.

  September 22. Fishing excellent. Sea alive with tuna for miles and miles. Fished till tired out. No waiting between fish. This evening wrote Henry that I was seriously thinking of settling here, and of buying that five acres of land. Could build a nice place there, and have my own launch and run a garden. Told Blade about these dreams of mine, and he seemed delighted. Keen fellow, Blade, for his club and Bermagui.

  September 23. Generally good day.

  September 24. Weather fine and fishing fair.

  September 25. Weather hazy and sea calm. Fishing again excellent. Paid hotel bill.

  September 26. Too rough to fish. Had another tramp over those five acres. Talked about things with Spinks in the cabin of the Do-me during afternoon. Suggested I might buy a launch, and offered him a position of managing it for me. He seemed keen. Decided this evening to buy the five acres.

  September 27. Too rough to go out first part of day, so hired a car and interviewed a solicitor at Cobargo to act for me re purchase of the five acres. Fishing good in the afternoon. Blade went out with me.

  September 28. Weather still rough and fishing again good. Paid Spinks for hire of launch. Suggested that his mother and sister could live with him at my new house. Have extra rooms added if they would. Mother could cook and sister housemaid for me.

  September 29. Weather moderating. Fishing superlative. Fished till I was tired. Then let Garroway and Spinks take a turn. Fished again till I could fish no more.

  September 30. Too rough to go out. Prospected my five acres on which I have paid for option to purchase. Yarned with launchmen at the jetty all afternoon. Enjoyed their company much: heard many amusing and interesting stories of fishing and the coast. Was given details of a strange affair of many years ago which resulted in the naming of Mystery Bay, up the coast a little. Once a policeman always a policeman, I suppose, for I find I am attracted to a mystery just as much as in the old days.

  October 1. Fishing wild and sea boisterous. Wrote Henry this evening telling him I had bought the land, and saying I would insist on him and Muriel coming down for the house warm­ing.

  October 2. Weather fine and warm. Fished till my arms ached. Biggest catch a twenty-four pounder. Saw a man named Rockaway on jetty when we got in. Rockaway had brought in a tuna which Blade announced to weigh sixty-seven pounds. Like Rockaway’s launch, but it looks a little too expensive for my purse. Had a party tonight in the parlour, several anglers and Blade being my guests. Talked of trying Swordfish Reef to­morrow for sharks, Blade saying he could fit me up with heavy rod and line and trace and hooks.

  October 3. Weather dead calm and sea flat. Hazy. Went straight out to Swordfish Reef. Last saw the launch Snowy at eight-five a.m. Last saw Edith making to the north-east at eighty-forty a.m. Last saw Gladious, south of us, at eleven-five a.m. Haze hid coast-line and low hill
s, but could see summit of Dromedary Mountain clear above the haze.

  From this point Bony could proceed no further with Ericson’s imagined diary. Its details were of necessity meagre, but in their sectioning under dates they formed the skeleton to which a host of details yet to be garnered could be added. Somewhere in that range of time recorded in the diary must lurk a fact which would point to the answers to the questions: How was it done? Why was it done? Who did it?

  He was pensively rolling a cigarette when a shadow fell across his feet and a woman said, wonderingly:

  “Hullo! What are you doing there?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mrs Spinks

  “YOU HAVEN’T seen the Do-me by any chance, have you?” asked the gaunt, white-haired woman who was looking down at Bony. The brown eyes were burning with a strange heat, and the furrowed face was illumined by pathetic hope.

  Knowing instantly who she was, Bony scrambled to his feet and bowed in his grand manner.

  “How long have you been up here, mister?” she further asked.

  “Several hours, Mrs Spinks. But”—and he pointed to the litter of papers—“as you see, I have been studying.”

  Mrs Spinks nodded, and then, whilst Bony was collecting his papers, she stood gazing away out over the blue and white carpet of the sea.

  “The Ivy’s bringing home a swordie,” she said.

  “Oh! Where is she?” inquired Bony.

  The woman pointed towards Montague Island, and Bony saw the distant launch carrying a flutter of blue at her masthead. The craft was so far away that he wondered at Mrs Spinks naming her. He saw another launch, and he, too, pointed, saying:

  “Out there is another launch, see?”

  “That’ll be the Myoni, mister. She’s flying the red flag. Angler on her has brought a shark to the gaff. Yes, I know ’em all, all the Bermagui launches. I always watch for ’em coming home at eve, but I can’t never see the Do-me. Oh—I can’t never see the Do-me.” Her hand firmly imprisoned Bony’s arm, held it strongly and without a tremor. The brown eyes blazed at his. “They all say the Do-me went down over Swordfish Reef, and that the sharks took my Bill and young Garroway and Mr Ericson. They’re liars, all of ’em.”

  “Let us hope so, Mrs Spinks.”

  “Hope so! There’s never no need to hope they’re all liars. They are, I tell you. My Bill isn’t dead.”

  “Isn’t he?” queried Bony, his voice gentle.

  “No, he’s not. If he was dead I’d know of it, wouldn’t I?”

  “How would you know?”

  “How would I know it, mister? I’d know it because I’m his mother, that’s how I’d know it. Trust a mother to know if her only boy was drowned at sea. Trust me. Bill was a fine lad, and he’s grown into a finer man. Steady as a rock, is my Bill. He’s always loved me, always looked after me. Why, he never come home, not once, without giving me a good hug and kissing me. If the sea had took him he’d have let me know. He would have come in the spirit to stand close to me, to whisper to me that he was dead and that I wasn’t to sorrow. And I wouldn’t have, either. I’d have had to live on for a few more years and then he’d be waiting for me up on high, waiting to hug me again and kiss me. But don’t you fret, mister. The sea didn’t take him, and one day he’ll come trolling home with young Garroway and Mr Ericson.”

  “Yes, of course,” Bony said. “I’d like to hear you tell me all about your son and the Do-me. Let’s sit down on the grassy brow there, and watch the launches coming home while you tell me. Will you?”

  He saw the generous mouth drop, and was made uneasy. He watched the defiance fade from her own eyes. When she spoke there was wistful eagerness in her voice.

  “Would you really like me to tell you about Bill and the Do-me, mister? No one bar Marion ever wanted to hear about him and the launch he built all by himself. Cold, that’s what everyone is. Even Marion gets a bit cold now and then. She’s my girl, you know. She and Bill are twins. There weren’t any others.”

  “I’d like to hear about them both and about the Do-me, too. Come!” urged Bony. “Sit down here beside me and tell me everything. You said your son built the Do-me. Did it take him long?”

  “A year. A full year, mister. He built her in his spare time. I helped to build her, too. He made me nail a deck plank into place just so it could be said I helped build her. I can’t under­stand what’s keeping them away for so long. Mr Blade sends out my wireless messages when I ask him to, but Bill never answers them, and he doesn’t come home. It’s not like him, you know.”

  Bony puffed cigarette smoke.

  “Perhaps,” he suggested. “Perhaps your son and Mr Ericson and young Garroway decided to go a long way away and fish. Perhaps they heard from one of the passing ships where there were many extra heavy tuna and sharks to be caught.”

  Mrs Spinks moved her thin body the better to regard this very kind man who wanted to listen to her.

  “D’you think that’s how it is?” she insisted. “You might be right, mister. I didn’t think of that.”

  Bony dared not look into the woman’s wide eyes lit by the beacon of hope. He said:

  “Did your son get on well with Mr Ericson?”

  The woman offered no reply. The work-toughened fingers of her right hand were being pressed to her lips. To the dancing, glittering, beautiful and cruel sea she said:

  “Yes, that might be it. Bill and Mr Ericson might have took it into their head to try New Zealand for the fishing. Mr Ericson he liked Bill. He was thinkin’ of buying himself a launch bigger and faster than the Do-me, and he was thinking of hiring Bill by the month to run her for him. Bill reckoned it would be good-oh. Regular wages would be better than the up and down fishing during the winter. Yes, they might have taken a run across to New Zealand on the spur of the moment. I never thought of that. And Bill could have got new underclothes in New Zealand, too. I needn’t keep his out waiting for him. I can put ’em away.”

  “It appears that Mr Ericson liked your son,” Bony softly in­terjected, valiantly keeping from his voice the pity surging in his heart. And when she spoke again pride controlled her.

  “Like my Bill! Everyone likes Bill. Why, a day or so before they went away Mr Ericson was talking of buying that land of Watson’s and building a house on it to live here for keeps. He said it would be a good idea if Bill ran his new launch, and for me and Marion to go and live with him, me to do the cooking and Marion the maiding. He liked my cooking, did Mr Ericson, after I cooked a tunny he caught and sent out with young Garroway for their lunch. He said I was a splendid fish cook, and that only one cook in every hundred could cook fish pro­perly. He was right, too. You want to have the fat hot but not too hot to burn, and when you steam fish you want it to steam slowly, not fast as though in a hurry to get it done with.”

  “Mr Ericson had plenty of money, I understand,” Bony sug­gested.

  “Oh, I suppose so. He always paid Bill prompt every week ’cos he was staying for a long time. There’s the Edith coming home.”

  “She’s had no catch today.”

  “No. If the anglers caught swordies every time they went to sea there wouldn’t be the sport there is in swordfishing.”

  “And isn’t this the Dolfin coming along from the Three Brothers? It looks like her.”

  “That’s her. Trim craft, ain’t she, mister? She’s coming fast this way, too. Must be bringing in a swordie for weighing and recording. You’ll see her mast go up presently, like as not, and the blue flag run to her truck. Mr Rockaway doesn’t bother to bring sharks to be weighed.”

  Bony watched the slim bow of the silver-grey launch cutting the water cleanly like a knife and thrusting outwards sheets of spray. The Dolfin’s speed was much higher than that of the average launch: sixteen knots Joe said she could do.

  “Her mast is hinged to the decking,” the woman explained. “Mr Rockaway likes the mast laid down. Says it makes the Dolfin more like a cruiser when her mast’s laid flat. I like to see a mast up, myself.
There, I thought so!”

  They could observe a man working at what looked like a winch, and slowly the mast was seen to rise into position. Then to its summit was run the blue flag having the small white fish emblazoned on it.

  The Ivy was about to pass over the bar with her capture of the day. The Myoni was drawing near the headland. She was flying the red shark flag, and, when a minute or two later, she passed the headland, Bony and Mrs Spinks could see the fish lashed across her stern. Her white paintwork reflected the light of the westering sun. Like birds homing to roost were these launches. Farther out the Gladious and the Snowy were coming in, their mastheads bare of bunting.

  “Two swordies and a shark so far,” Mrs Spinks said. “Where’s the Vida and the Lily G. Excel? At, there’s the Exel coming in from Swordfish Reef. She’s got no capture. The Marlin? But then Jack didn’t go out today. Day off for Jack Wilton and that old fool of a Joe Peace. Jack’s angler landed a good ’un, didn’t he? Why, mister, you must be Jack’s angler.”

  “Yes, that’s so, Mrs Spinks. I felt that I required a rest today.”

  “Of course. Any man would want a spell after fighting that five hundred and eighty-pounder. That will do Jack a lot of good, you know. It’ll be in all the papers. Good lad is Jack Wilton. He’s been long waitin’ to marry Marion.”

  “Doesn’t she like him enough?” inquired Bony, keenly watch­ing the oncoming Dolfin riding down the chop and ignoring the rollers.

  Mrs Spinks audibly sighed.

  “Marion’s like me,” she asserted. “She’s waitin’ for Bill and Mr Ericson to come back home. You see, it’s like this, Mr Bonaparte—that’s a funny name for a man to have: wasn’t there an emperor or something of that name?—Jack Wilton’s got his mother to keep and to think of. If he married Marion he’d have to look after me, too, until Bill came home. Still, that’s not all. Marion always was a wilful girl, but in some ways she’s very cautious. And it’s no fault to be cautious in love, is it? Now if I went to cook for Mr Ericson, and generally look after him, and Bill lived with Mr Ericson, too, things would come straight for Marion and Jack. Jack’s a good lad, but like all the fishermen here he finds money hard to earn during the winter.”