A Sea Unto Itself by Jay Worrall Page A

here?”
    “It might be ten minutes,” Sykes answered.
    “How did you find him? I mean, how did you know to look here?”
    “One of the men, Roberts I think, told Mr. Beechum. We came down to find him just like this. We ain’t touched nothing.”
    Charles wondered what one of his seamen was doing wandering around below the orlop in the middle of the night. Probably searching for rats. Some liked to make sport with them in their idle hours. He patted his pockets in the vain hope of finding his watch. Stimson’s death had clearly been no accident. There would have to be an official inquiry; he needed facts. “Do you know what time it is?” he said.
    Sykes scratched his chin. “Sometime between four and five bells in the middle watch, I think. Least, I remember hearing four bells just before we came down.”
    “Thank you,” Charles said. “Do you have any idea how it happened?”
    “No, sir. I can guess though.”
    “What’s your guess?”
    “Some of the older able seamen don’t like Stimson much. They thought he was a trouble maker.”
    “That’s a good guess,” Charles said. He heard the sounds of footsteps coming toward them. “Charlie,” he heard Bevan’s voice. “Are you under there?”
    “Yes,” Charles answered. There was no more room in the cramped space so he crabbed back out into the hold where he could stand upright. He saw Bevan, Owens, and Ayres with two marines trailing behind.
    “Stimson’s dead?” Bevan said.
    “It looks like someone’s broken his neck for him,” Charles answered. He turned to the ship’s surgeon. “If you would be so good as to examine the body and establish the cause of death. I will require a written report on it.”
    “Yes, sir,” Owens replied. He bent low and entered the space.
    “Lieutenant Ayres, you will post sentries at both the fore and aft ladder-ways to the hold. No one is to enter or leave without my permission.”
    Ayres nodded his comprehension and spoke to the marines behind him. “Anything else, sir?”
    Charles tried to think of what he would need to do in order to find the perpetrators. “Yes. If you would please detach sufficient of your men to search the hold from stem to stern for anyone who might be hiding. They’ll have to check the carpenter’s walks as well. I would appreciate it if you would supervise this personally.” The carpenter’s walks were the space kept free along the inner sides of the hull so that leaks or shot holes could be detected and repaired without having to shift the stores. He doubted that anyone would be there, but it was important to be sure.
    “Yes, sir,” Ayres said.
    “And one more thing,” Charles said, beginning to think of the possible repercussions of Stimson’s murder. “I want all of your men to turn out at the change of the watch to keep order. That is all for now.”
    “You’re expecting trouble over this?” Bevan asked.
    “I don’t know, Daniel, but think about it. Stimson was a spokesman, maybe a leader, among the lower ratings. They may decide that it was the senior seamen who did him in and attempt some kind of retaliation. I won't have it.”
    Owens and Sykes sidled out from under the orlop. “What have you found?” Charles asked.
    “He’s dead, that’s a fact,” Owens said, brushing at some grit on the knees of his breeches. “His neck was broken. Someone twisted his head clean around. He must have died suddenly. There were no signs of a struggle.”
    “There’s no possibility he injured himself, hit his head on a deck beam, tripped and fell, anything like that?”
    “No. There’d be bruises around the head or face somewhere. The man didn’t even fall; he was lowered to the deck and then dragged under there.”
    “I see. Thank you,” Charles said. “Are you finished with the body?”
    “You may do with it as you please.”
    “Thank you again, Mr. Owens.” Charles turned to Bevan. “Have someone sew Stimson into his hammock and we’ll bury him this afternoon.