I’d try it out on you.”
The doctor was unabashed. “I haven’t thought of that story in years,” he said. “I recall it was a great mystery at the time. Was it pirates took the crew? I can’t remember.”
“There haven’t been pirates in these waters in fifty years,” said Wallace. “And there were no signs of violence and nothing taken.”
“Yes,” Doyle agreed. “That’s right. The ship was in good condition, but not a soul on board.”
Wallace nodded, his brow thoughtfully knit. “I knew the captain a little,” he said. “A Yankee gentleman, upright, family man. Name of Biggs, or Tibbs, something like that. I happened to be in port with him at Marseille; it must be twenty years now. He was a young man then, and a handsome one. He had his wife along, and she was much relieved to find English speakers. She had no French and they’d been loading a week. Very dark-eyed, pert creature, confident in that American way, always slyly mocking anything foreign. I invited them on board for dinner and we had a pleasant enough time. He was teetotal, but he didn’t fuss if others took spirits. I liked him for that. There was nothing puritanical about him; he was a cordial man. I remember one thing especially about that night. We got to singing round the table, more polite songs than usual because the lady was present, and his wife took a turn. She had a lovely voice, almost a professional voice, and she sang a song I didn’t know, an American song, I presumed. I’d never heard it before or since, but I recall the refrain. It was ‘All things love thee, all things love thee, so do I.’ ” Wallace tilted his head to one side, as if listening to the remembered voice, while the doctor studied him with a questioning eye. “She stood up to sing, and when she got to that refrain, she turned to her husband, and he, with a smile of the purest satisfaction, looked back at her. They looked into each other’s eyes, you see, while she told him she loved him, and it was as if there were no other people in the world but those two. The look on her face! I’ve never thought to bring my missus along on a voyage, but I think if she ever looked at me like that for one moment in my life, well, I might consider it. I can tell you there was not a man there that didn’t feel envious of Captain Tibbs at that moment. We were all going off toour bunks with a last tot of brandy for a bedmate, and he was going back to his cabin with a woman who adored him.” Here Wallace paused, having concluded his story.
“And the wife and child were aboard, when they abandoned ship.”
“Yes. They were never seen again.”
“Wasn’t there something odd about the cargo? Do you know?”
“Well, that’s an interesting detail. The captain kept a dry ship. There was not a drop of spirits allowed above deck, but he had loaded a thousand barrels of alcohol at New York. That fool proctor at the Admiralty hearing tried to make something of that. He was convinced the crew had gotten at the barrels and killed the officers and the family in a drunken fury. Then they put down the yawl and sailed away.”
Doyle considered this scenario. “One of them would have had to be able to navigate,” he suggested. “It’s possible, I suppose.”
“It would be if the alcohol was brandy. But it was distilling spirits. If you could make yourself swallow it, it would kill you.”
Doyle frowned at this thought. “So it wasn’t mutiny and it wasn’t pirates.”
“No. I mean yes, it was neither of those.”
“Do you have a theory?”
“I do not. It appeared that she was abandoned in a hurry. That, I believe, is a fact. But she had too much sail set to tie up to her with a painter, as the salvagers claimed must have happened. Any sailor would have more sense than to try that. Ten people in a yawl on the open sea, tying up to a ship rigged to run dead downwind; it would be suicide.”
“So, in your view, leaving the ship as they did was an
The doctor was unabashed. “I haven’t thought of that story in years,” he said. “I recall it was a great mystery at the time. Was it pirates took the crew? I can’t remember.”
“There haven’t been pirates in these waters in fifty years,” said Wallace. “And there were no signs of violence and nothing taken.”
“Yes,” Doyle agreed. “That’s right. The ship was in good condition, but not a soul on board.”
Wallace nodded, his brow thoughtfully knit. “I knew the captain a little,” he said. “A Yankee gentleman, upright, family man. Name of Biggs, or Tibbs, something like that. I happened to be in port with him at Marseille; it must be twenty years now. He was a young man then, and a handsome one. He had his wife along, and she was much relieved to find English speakers. She had no French and they’d been loading a week. Very dark-eyed, pert creature, confident in that American way, always slyly mocking anything foreign. I invited them on board for dinner and we had a pleasant enough time. He was teetotal, but he didn’t fuss if others took spirits. I liked him for that. There was nothing puritanical about him; he was a cordial man. I remember one thing especially about that night. We got to singing round the table, more polite songs than usual because the lady was present, and his wife took a turn. She had a lovely voice, almost a professional voice, and she sang a song I didn’t know, an American song, I presumed. I’d never heard it before or since, but I recall the refrain. It was ‘All things love thee, all things love thee, so do I.’ ” Wallace tilted his head to one side, as if listening to the remembered voice, while the doctor studied him with a questioning eye. “She stood up to sing, and when she got to that refrain, she turned to her husband, and he, with a smile of the purest satisfaction, looked back at her. They looked into each other’s eyes, you see, while she told him she loved him, and it was as if there were no other people in the world but those two. The look on her face! I’ve never thought to bring my missus along on a voyage, but I think if she ever looked at me like that for one moment in my life, well, I might consider it. I can tell you there was not a man there that didn’t feel envious of Captain Tibbs at that moment. We were all going off toour bunks with a last tot of brandy for a bedmate, and he was going back to his cabin with a woman who adored him.” Here Wallace paused, having concluded his story.
“And the wife and child were aboard, when they abandoned ship.”
“Yes. They were never seen again.”
“Wasn’t there something odd about the cargo? Do you know?”
“Well, that’s an interesting detail. The captain kept a dry ship. There was not a drop of spirits allowed above deck, but he had loaded a thousand barrels of alcohol at New York. That fool proctor at the Admiralty hearing tried to make something of that. He was convinced the crew had gotten at the barrels and killed the officers and the family in a drunken fury. Then they put down the yawl and sailed away.”
Doyle considered this scenario. “One of them would have had to be able to navigate,” he suggested. “It’s possible, I suppose.”
“It would be if the alcohol was brandy. But it was distilling spirits. If you could make yourself swallow it, it would kill you.”
Doyle frowned at this thought. “So it wasn’t mutiny and it wasn’t pirates.”
“No. I mean yes, it was neither of those.”
“Do you have a theory?”
“I do not. It appeared that she was abandoned in a hurry. That, I believe, is a fact. But she had too much sail set to tie up to her with a painter, as the salvagers claimed must have happened. Any sailor would have more sense than to try that. Ten people in a yawl on the open sea, tying up to a ship rigged to run dead downwind; it would be suicide.”
“So, in your view, leaving the ship as they did was an
Similar Books
