Bill Kirton's Death Ship:
Part One
Genre: Drama
Swearwords: None.
Description: It’s 1841. The ship is not long out of Norway and heading for Aberdeen when the first gruesome discovery is made.
Swearwords: None.
Description: It’s 1841. The ship is not long out of Norway and heading for Aberdeen when the first gruesome discovery is made.
We were less than a day out of Kristiansand when the first body was found. The seas were piling into the Skagerrak Strait under a force eight. It had been blowing for four days. We’d set just two jibs and the fore topmast staysail, the courses, lower topsails and lower staysails on all three masts and the spanker to steady her. As she beat out into the German Ocean, the carpenter’s workshop was the last place anyone wanted to be. There, up in the bows, you felt the sea’s full violence. Jack Stretton had no choice. As part of his watch, he had to start his fire inspection rounds under the foredeck. In the gloom, he heard the carpenter’s door banging back and forth. He pushed it open. Davie Strachan’s body lay against the workbench. His head had been held face down in the vice and then beaten until it resembled a crude bowl filled with silvery red substances in which floated fragments of bone.
A few minutes later, I was looking at it with the captain, Big John Michie. We were wondering how to report it to Mr Anderson.
“If the police hear about it, we’ll be held alongside for days, maybe weeks,” said Big John.
“Aye,” I said. “I can just hear what he’ll say to that.”
Big John nodded.
“We canna keep quiet about it, though. Not with the crew telling the tale in all the bars.”
“Is it something you want to hide, then?” I asked.
He shook his head. I looked again at Davie’s open skull.
“No easy matter to pretend it’s an accident,” I said. “That vice is deep in his cheeks. There was a lot of pain.”
“Aye. But I canna just leave him there. With this wind we’ll soon be needing work done down here.”
As if she agreed with him, the ship dived steeply into a trough and we had to hold the rails tightly to keep our footing. Only the vice kept Davie from sliding under the bench.
“And where can I put him?” Big John went on. “God knows how long it’ll take us to get home with the wind on our nose like this. He’ll smell worse than a hold full of herring.”
It was interesting that he seemed to have less curiosity about the killing than about how it would interfere with sailing the ship.
“You’re the master. It’s your decision,” I said.
“Aye, thanks.”
He wasted little time reflecting. He was right: he couldn’t store a decomposing body in a fully laden ship where there was hardly space enough for the crew. And, with superstition a part of every seaman’s thinking, other troubles would inevitably grow from the corpse. When we went back on deck, he ordered the sail maker to break out some canvas and sew the body up in it. We’d then cover it with pitch and drop it over the side. The death would have to be reported but, with no body to look at and no-one caring much about what happened to Davie anyway, Big John hoped that Mr Anderson’s trade would not suffer unduly.
A few minutes later, I was looking at it with the captain, Big John Michie. We were wondering how to report it to Mr Anderson.
“If the police hear about it, we’ll be held alongside for days, maybe weeks,” said Big John.
“Aye,” I said. “I can just hear what he’ll say to that.”
Big John nodded.
“We canna keep quiet about it, though. Not with the crew telling the tale in all the bars.”
“Is it something you want to hide, then?” I asked.
He shook his head. I looked again at Davie’s open skull.
“No easy matter to pretend it’s an accident,” I said. “That vice is deep in his cheeks. There was a lot of pain.”
“Aye. But I canna just leave him there. With this wind we’ll soon be needing work done down here.”
As if she agreed with him, the ship dived steeply into a trough and we had to hold the rails tightly to keep our footing. Only the vice kept Davie from sliding under the bench.
“And where can I put him?” Big John went on. “God knows how long it’ll take us to get home with the wind on our nose like this. He’ll smell worse than a hold full of herring.”
It was interesting that he seemed to have less curiosity about the killing than about how it would interfere with sailing the ship.
“You’re the master. It’s your decision,” I said.
“Aye, thanks.”
He wasted little time reflecting. He was right: he couldn’t store a decomposing body in a fully laden ship where there was hardly space enough for the crew. And, with superstition a part of every seaman’s thinking, other troubles would inevitably grow from the corpse. When we went back on deck, he ordered the sail maker to break out some canvas and sew the body up in it. We’d then cover it with pitch and drop it over the side. The death would have to be reported but, with no body to look at and no-one caring much about what happened to Davie anyway, Big John hoped that Mr Anderson’s trade would not suffer unduly.
About the Author
Bill Kirton was born in Plymouth, England but has lived in Aberdeen, Scotland for most of his life. He’s been a university lecturer, presented TV programmes, written and performed songs and sketches at the Edinburgh Festival, and had many radio plays broadcast by the BBC and the Australian BC, and stage plays performed in the UK and USA. He’s written five books on study and writing skills in Pearson’s ‘Brilliant’ series and his crime novels, Material Evidence, Rough Justice, The Darkness, Shadow Selves and Unsafe Acts, along with the historical novel The Figurehead, set in Aberdeen in 1840, have all been published in the UK and USA. The Darkness is an award winner and his satirical novel, The Sparrow Conundrum, is a double award winner. There’s another satirical novel, Alternative Dimension, and he’s also written stories for children: a novel, The Loch Ewe Mystery, and a short story, Rory the Dragon and Princess Daisy. His short stories have appeared in several anthologies and Love Hurts was chosen for the Mammoth Book of Best British Crime 2010 and has been optioned for a film.
His website and blog are at http://www.billkirton.com.
His website and blog are at http://www.billkirton.com.