is the stuff doing in the Thames Estuary?’
‘Waiting to be loaded on to outward bound vessels,’ said Rossanna. ‘They stop there regularly to collect consignments. It would be most unsafe, you understand, to have explosives stored in warehouses in the Port of London. Instead, they use the hulks in Hole Haven. Two of them belong to a German firm, the rest to the mayor of Gravesend, who receives the dynamite from Scotland and sees to the discharging, reloading and storage. An eminently sensible arrangement, and inexpensive, too. Each magazine, I understand, is guarded overnight by a single caretaker.’
‘Holy Mother of God!’ said Malone.
Rossanna was giving her attention to Cribb. ‘So the purpose of the evening is to collect a modest consignment of dynamite from Hole Haven. It will be so much more convenient than making importations from America. In approximately three-quarters of an hour, Patrick will draw alongside the Moravia, the hulk least easily observed by coastguards, because it is partially obscured by two of the other vessels. You, Mr Sargent, and Mr Malone here will then board the Moravia, disincline the caretaker from interfering, and make a careful examination of the cargo. We shall not be able to take much away with us on this small craft, so we shall need to ensure that what we have is of the most powerful grade. You will unload six half-hundredweight cases on to our deck and we shall gently cruise away with enough dynamite to bring down every bridge along the river if we feel inclined.’
‘Now there’s a grand conception!’ said Devlin.
‘Beautiful!’ agreed Malone, half-closing his eyes to appreciate it fully.
‘An illustration, merely,’ said Rossanna. ‘My father is planning something infinitely more dramatic and effective— provided that we obtain the means tonight.’ She turned to Cribb again. ‘We want no hitch in this little enterprise. You will follow Mr Malone’s orders implicitly. In the circumstances, I have prevailed upon him not to carry a firearm, but he has no need of one when he can incapacitate a man just as quickly and more painfully with his bare hands.’
‘There’ll be no cause for that, miss,’ Cribb promised her.
When he went on deck again, the winking buoy was well astern and the Estuary had broadened to more than a mile across. Devlin was steering close to the Essex shore, a desolate tract of marshland unbroken by any sign of habitation.
Rossanna’s conference, disturbing as it was to anyone responsible for law and order, had rather fortified Cribb. His immediate future, at least, was less in doubt. The expedition was not planned with the sole intention of sending him the way of Bottle. Or so it seemed. If he were mistaken, it was the most diabolical charade-game he had ever taken part in. No, all the signs were that if he behaved convincingly as Malone’s assistant that night, he would win the confidence of the dynamiters. Put it down to forethought, intuition or uncommon luck, he had offered McGee what the conspiracy lacked at this stage in its campaign: the professional touch. He might shortly be expected to demonstrate it. Lord, he was thankful for those weeks at Woolwich!
He was conscious of a movement at his elbow: Rossanna, holding something in her arms. ‘Tall hats and morning suits look most distinguished, Mr Sargent, but they really will not do for climbing up the sides of dynamite-ships. Put on these things.’
He removed his hat and found it taken away in exchange for a bundle of clothes.
‘Please do not delay,’ said Rossanna. ‘We are passing Shell Haven on the port side. Our destination is less than a mile away. Give me your jacket. I shall take it to the cabin.’
She was right; it was ridiculous to think of clambering aboard a guarded ship in morning-dress. The others were in jerseys and dark trousers. He unbuttoned the jacket and took it off, checking the pockets first—but all they contained apart from coins was a crumpled
‘Waiting to be loaded on to outward bound vessels,’ said Rossanna. ‘They stop there regularly to collect consignments. It would be most unsafe, you understand, to have explosives stored in warehouses in the Port of London. Instead, they use the hulks in Hole Haven. Two of them belong to a German firm, the rest to the mayor of Gravesend, who receives the dynamite from Scotland and sees to the discharging, reloading and storage. An eminently sensible arrangement, and inexpensive, too. Each magazine, I understand, is guarded overnight by a single caretaker.’
‘Holy Mother of God!’ said Malone.
Rossanna was giving her attention to Cribb. ‘So the purpose of the evening is to collect a modest consignment of dynamite from Hole Haven. It will be so much more convenient than making importations from America. In approximately three-quarters of an hour, Patrick will draw alongside the Moravia, the hulk least easily observed by coastguards, because it is partially obscured by two of the other vessels. You, Mr Sargent, and Mr Malone here will then board the Moravia, disincline the caretaker from interfering, and make a careful examination of the cargo. We shall not be able to take much away with us on this small craft, so we shall need to ensure that what we have is of the most powerful grade. You will unload six half-hundredweight cases on to our deck and we shall gently cruise away with enough dynamite to bring down every bridge along the river if we feel inclined.’
‘Now there’s a grand conception!’ said Devlin.
‘Beautiful!’ agreed Malone, half-closing his eyes to appreciate it fully.
‘An illustration, merely,’ said Rossanna. ‘My father is planning something infinitely more dramatic and effective— provided that we obtain the means tonight.’ She turned to Cribb again. ‘We want no hitch in this little enterprise. You will follow Mr Malone’s orders implicitly. In the circumstances, I have prevailed upon him not to carry a firearm, but he has no need of one when he can incapacitate a man just as quickly and more painfully with his bare hands.’
‘There’ll be no cause for that, miss,’ Cribb promised her.
When he went on deck again, the winking buoy was well astern and the Estuary had broadened to more than a mile across. Devlin was steering close to the Essex shore, a desolate tract of marshland unbroken by any sign of habitation.
Rossanna’s conference, disturbing as it was to anyone responsible for law and order, had rather fortified Cribb. His immediate future, at least, was less in doubt. The expedition was not planned with the sole intention of sending him the way of Bottle. Or so it seemed. If he were mistaken, it was the most diabolical charade-game he had ever taken part in. No, all the signs were that if he behaved convincingly as Malone’s assistant that night, he would win the confidence of the dynamiters. Put it down to forethought, intuition or uncommon luck, he had offered McGee what the conspiracy lacked at this stage in its campaign: the professional touch. He might shortly be expected to demonstrate it. Lord, he was thankful for those weeks at Woolwich!
He was conscious of a movement at his elbow: Rossanna, holding something in her arms. ‘Tall hats and morning suits look most distinguished, Mr Sargent, but they really will not do for climbing up the sides of dynamite-ships. Put on these things.’
He removed his hat and found it taken away in exchange for a bundle of clothes.
‘Please do not delay,’ said Rossanna. ‘We are passing Shell Haven on the port side. Our destination is less than a mile away. Give me your jacket. I shall take it to the cabin.’
She was right; it was ridiculous to think of clambering aboard a guarded ship in morning-dress. The others were in jerseys and dark trousers. He unbuttoned the jacket and took it off, checking the pockets first—but all they contained apart from coins was a crumpled
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