Treachery by S. J. Parris Page A

do you have on board the Elizabeth ?’ I ask.
    ‘At present, while we wait in harbour, around eighty men,’ Drake says.
    ‘And no one saw or heard anything? It would seem strange, on such a busy ship, that a man in good health could be subdued and hanged in his own cabin without anyone hearing a disturbance.’
    Drake looks at me. ‘You are right. But Dunne was very drunk the night he died. He had gone ashore with a few of the others. They said he was acting strangely even before they had come within sight of a tavern.’
    ‘Strangely, how?’
    ‘Some of the men said he had a blazing argument in an inn yard, ending with punches thrown on both sides. Then Dunne stormed away and the others didn’t see him again until later. Padre Pettifer, our chaplain, found him wandering in the street and brought him back to the ship. Thomas met them as they were trying to climb aboard.’
    ‘I was returning from dinner with Francis,’ Thomas says. ‘I thought only that Dunne was extremely drunk. He was swaying violently and his talk was very wild.’
    ‘In what way?’
    ‘Like a man in the grip of fever. He kept saying they were at his heels, and pointing out into the night.’
    ‘Who was at his heels?’ Sidney says, leaning forward. Thomas glances at him with disdain.
    ‘Well, if he’d said, we might have a better idea of who to look for.’ He jabs a forefinger into the air. ‘He just kept pointing like a madman, like so, and saying “Do you not see him, Thomas Drake?” When I asked who, he opened his eyes very wide and said, “The Devil himself.”’
    ‘Did you notice anything about his eyes?’ I ask.
    ‘His eyes? It was dark, man,’ Thomas says. Then he seems to relent. ‘Though in that light they appeared very bloodshot, and the pupils dilated. The eyes of a drunken man, as you’d expect.’ He sucks in his cheeks. ‘It is strange. Dunne had his faults, but the bottle was not one of them. It had clearly gone to his head – he even started addressing me as his wife—’
    ‘God help her, if you are easily mistaken in looks,’ Sidney says. Thomas glares him into silence.
    ‘I helped him to his cabin. Told him to sleep it off. Just before we reached the door, he pointed ahead and said, “Martha, why have you brought that horse aboard this ship?” Then he vomited copiously all over the deck and his legs went from under him.’
    ‘We’ve all had nights like that,’ Sidney says.
    ‘Yes, it would be an amusing story, if he had not been found dead the next morning,’ Drake remarks, his face stern. Sidney looks chastened.
    ‘Between us, we laid him on the bed,’ Thomas says. ‘He seemed to fall asleep right away.’
    ‘And no one saw or spoke to him after he returned to his cabin? No one heard anything unusual? Though I suppose it would be difficult to ask too many questions.’ I rub the nail of my thumb along my jaw and think again that I must visit a barber soon.
    ‘ You ask a great many questions, Doctor Bruno,’ Thomas Drake mutters. ‘Anyone would think you were the coroner.’
    Sir Francis regards me with shrewd eyes.
    ‘You perceive my problem exactly. Having given out that he died by his own hand, it becomes difficult then to press the men too closely as to what they saw or heard without arousing suspicion.’ He sighs, and pushes his glass away from him. ‘Already some are saying they want to leave while they still can, that this is now a doomed voyage. I have persuaded them to stay for now, but if it is presumed to be murder, it would be impossible to hold a crew together, each man looking at his fellows, wondering who among them is a killer. I must tread very carefully.’
    ‘But one of them is a killer, so you believe,’ Sidney says, a touch of impatience in his tone. ‘So you must find him, or risk him killing again.’
    ‘Thank you, Sir Philip,’ Drake says, with impeccable politeness, ‘but the situation is perhaps more complicated than you understand. In any case, be thankful