Bodies from the Library Page 8

  JAMES: Poor fellow. Very tragic. But I scarcely see—

  MACLEAN: They put him in an asylum. The asylum at Newcastle.

  (Pause)

  JAMES: (whispers to self) At Newcastle?

  NIGEL: Ah. This gets more interesting. Perhaps the fellow’s delusions are centred upon someone in this ship. In which case—

  JAMES: (wildly) What the devil is this nonsense?

  MACLEAN: The poor chap, in his crazed mind, may be holding one of us responsible for the injuries he—

  JAMES: Are you suggesting?—

  MACLEAN: Maybe it’s myself. I was captain of the ‘Mary Garside’. Maybe you, Sir James. Maybe he holds one of us responsible for the parting of that lifeboat’s falls, for the ship going down, and—

  JAMES: I advise you to be careful, Maclean.

  MACLEAN: But we’re agreed it’s just a delusion the poor fellow has. Neither of us could have wanted the ‘Mary Garside’ to founder. Eh, Sir James?

  GREER: Well, I’ll be turning in for an hour or two. My watch at midnight. As you’re sleeping alone, Sir James, perhaps you’d like the loan of a revolver. I’ve got a spare one here—

  (Sound of drawer being opened, revolver taken out and loaded)

  —not that I think you’ll need it. The chances are twenty to one against the chap being on board. And remember there’s a communicating door between your cabin and mine, in case you—(voice drowned by bellow of steam-whistle overhead)

  JAMES: Presumably some sort of watch will be kept on the decks?

  GREER: Surely. But if this fog thickens, it may not be so easy to—

  JAMES: Lot of damned poppycock. You’re all talking like a pack of old women. I’m off to bed. Tell the steward to call me at 7.30 sharp, Strangeways … You and your lunatics!

  (Door slams)

  NIGEL: I suppose the women have locked their door all right.

  GREER: I told them to, Mr Strangeways. Just to be on the safe side.

  (Fade in to women’s cabin. Stirring of bunks. Prolonged blast of steam-whistle overhead.)

  LAURA: Rocked in the bosom of the deep. What life! (Yawns) I wish I could go to sleep. You did lock the door, darling, didn’t you?

  ALICE: Yes, Laura. We’re quite safe in here. I wish Daddy hadn’t to go on the bridge tonight, though.

  (Faint sound of telegraph. Steam-whistle again.)

  LAURA: These marine noises get in my hair. Why must they keep blowing that hooter? We might as well be sleeping in the Zoo.

  ALICE: It’s not that. It’s because we’re afraid. I know Daddy told us they’d searched the ship and couldn’t find anyone: but we don’t really believe it yet. That’s why we can’t go to sleep.

  LAURA: You’ve said it, darling … Should we shut the port-hole, do you think? Just to be on the safe side?

  ALICE: If you like … No. No, please don’t. I hate feeling as if I was in prison.

  LAURA: Snap out of it, duckie—this is sheer claustrophobia.

  ALICE: Claustrophobia? (slight laugh) Is that what you call it? (half to herself) You don’t know what it’s like to be in prison. No hope of escape … Ever … But there is a way out—

  LAURA: Darling, what is it? Won’t you tell me? I know you’re unhappy. I’ve felt it for a long time. Is it—about Laurence?

  ALICE: I’m sorry. I can’t tell you. It’s my own trouble. I asked for it, and I’ve got it. Perhaps it will be over soon. Try and go to sleep, Laura.

  LAURA: I—oh well. (begins to yawn. Yawn is taken up by long blast on steam-whistle. As this fades, we hear Laurence muttering)

  LAURENCE: Damn this fog! (stirs restlessly) You awake, Strangeways?

  NIGEL: (grunts)

  LAURENCE: (yawning) I always used to yawn like this before house-matches. Nerves, I suppose … What’s the time?

  NIGEL: Just after eleven. Are you nervous now?

  LAURENCE: I suppose I am. Maniacs wandering about the ship, and all. You seem to take it very calmly. Quite the imperturbable detective.

  NIGEL: Who told you I was a detective?

  LAURENCE: Alice did. And as we’re on the subject, I must say, it’s not a job I’d fancy—spying on an innocent woman. Still, every man to his taste.

  NIGEL: That’s not exactly what Sir James engaged me for, you know. He said he wanted me to keep my eyes open.

  LAURENCE: Huh! Open for what?

  NIGEL: That’s just what I asked him. He was waiting till he got me aboard the lugger before informing me about my—duties.

  LAURENCE: You have to hand it to the old swine.

  NIGEL: Was it you or Lady Braithwaite who told Captain Greer I was a detective?

  LAURENCE: I certainly didn’t. And I’m sure Laura wouldn’t—What’s that?

  (Faint sound of scuffle overhead, cut off at once by roar of steam-whistle)

  NIGEL: Steam-whistle.

  LAURENCE: I thought I heard something else. On the deck overhead. A sort of scuffling noise.

  NIGEL: You’re very much on edge tonight, Annesley. Something on your mind?

  LAURENCE: What the devil should I—(obvious attempt at self-control) I’ve just got a feeling that something’s going to happen. That’s all. Silly of me—

  (Fade. Sound of telegraph and steam-whistle. Sound of waves. Hold this a little. Then a bell rings clearly, for change of watch)

  LAURA: (wearily) Bells now, What’ll they do next to keep us awake? (stirs in bunk) Only twelve o’clock. I feel as if I’d been awake for—Alice! ALICE! Listen. Can’t you hear something?

  (We begin to hear a shuffling, dragging footstep approach: it passes along the deck overhead; and recedes. As it approaches, Laura screams)

  LAURA: A sort of shuffling walk! That’s what they said—Alice, it’s that man—the lunatic!

  ALICE: Oh God, it’s going towards the bridge. Daddy. Quick, we must—

  (Knocking on door)

  NIGEL: Is anything the matter?

  (Door opens)

  ALICE: Quick! We heard footsteps overhead. Shuffling footsteps—going towards the bridge. Oh, do hurry!

  NIGEL: All right. We’ll find him. Don’t worry. You two get inside and lock the door again.

  ALICE: No, I’m coming with you.

  LAURA: I’m not staying here alone.

  (Confused footsteps running up companionway towards bridge. Distant Voices. Noise of sea getting louder)

  GREER: Now what’s all this? Alice, you’ll catch your death.

  ALICE: Oh, Daddy, are you all right? Thank God!

  NIGEL: Lady Braithwaite heard footsteps on the deck. Going aft. Dragging footsteps. She thought it was—

  GREER: There’s no one come up on the bridge. Bar myself, I’ve just come to relieve Mr Cafferty. And Smith, of course.

  NIGEL: Smith? Whose Smith?

  GREER: Seaman. Didn’t you hear the bell for change of watch? Smith came aft to take his trick at the wheel. Did you see anyone on deck, Smith?

  SMITH: No, sir.

  ALICE: He must be hiding somewhere.

  GREER: Mr Cafferty. Will you and Mr Annesley just take a look round? Here’s my revolver.

  NIGEL: No, wait a minute. Just a minute … Smith, you haven’t by any chance got a wooden leg?

  SMITH: No, sir.

  LAURENCE: Big gun misfires.

  NIGEL: Hmm. But I see you’re wearing—. May I borrow this man a moment, Captain?

  GREER: I don’t see—Very well. Take the wheel, if you please, Mr Cafferty.

  NIGEL: Now, Smith. Kindly walk up and down on the bridge outside.

  SMITH: Yes, sir.

  (Footsteps. They are exactly like those we heard before, only louder)

  LAURA: Oh! But that’s what we heard. How?—

  NIGEL: That’ll do, Smith, thank you.

  SMITH: Yes, sir. (Returns into wheel-house)

  VOICE: Keep her as she’s going.

  SMITH: As she’s going, sir.

  NIGEL: It’s quite simple, really. You see, Smith is wearing slippers. That accounts fo
r the shuffling noise. And they’re not a pair: one’s too big for him: hence the drag in his step. Storm in teacup now blown itself out.

  ALICE: Oh, I’m so glad! I was afraid—

  GREER: There, there, lass. No need to fret now. It’s all over. All over. Supposing you go and take a glass of spirits in the saloon, before you turn in. You deserve one, Mr Strangeways. Very smart it was of you.

  LAURENCE: Before we start celebrating our narrow escape from Jack the Ripper, there’s one thing I’d like to point out. One thing the eminent detective seems not to have noticed … Why is Sir James Braithwaite not in our midst? We made enough shindy to wake him.

  (Confused outbreak of voices)

  ALICE: —but he is a heavy sleeper.

  GREER: Go along round and knock at his door, then.

  (Voices and footsteps: we follow them down companionway, along short passage. They halt.)

  ALICE: (whispers uncertainly) He’ll be terribly angry if we wake him up.

  LAURENCE: Let him.

  NIGEL: No need. Listen.

  (We hear sound of snoring)

  LAURA: No doubt about that. He’s a heavy sleeper all right.

  LAURENCE: So that’s that. No maniacs. No casualties. Run along and get to sleep, girls. Tomorrow’s another day.

  (Noise of doors opening and shutting. Bunks creaking)

  LAURENCE: Well, I fancy we’ll be able to go to sleep now.

  NIGEL: Yes. Reaction after strong excitement. Better than morphia.

  LAURENCE: Though I don’t know why. We’ve still no proof this lunatic isn’t on board.

  NIGEL: For that matter, we’ve no proof there ever was a lunatic.

  LAURENCE: But that’s crazy. Why—

  NIGEL: We only heard the captain’s end of that little chat over the radio telephone.

  LAURENCE: But why on earth should he want to start a scare, especially with his own daughter on board?

  NIGEL: Why indeed? If I knew that, I’d know the answer to quite a few—

  LAURENCE: Oh you’re dreaming! If Cullercoats really transmitted no message about an escaped lunatic, it’d be bound to come out before long. And then Braithwaite would take the hide off Captain Greer—father-in-law or no father-in-law.

  NIGEL: Damn! That reminds me. I forgot to tell the steward to call Sir James. I’ll have to do it myself. 7.30 he said, didn’t he? I’ll set my alarm-clock.

  (Sound of setting clock, drowned by crescendo of sea and engine noises. They are held for a few moments, then fade, and we hear the alarm-clock ringing.)

  NIGEL: (stops alarm: yawns) 7.30. Ugh, what an hour to get up!

  (We hear him getting out of bunk, putting on dressing-gown, leaving cabin. As he does so, he is singing quietly to himself, in Dowland’s setting, ‘Come, heavy sleep, thou image of true death.’ He knocks on Sir James’ door)

  NIGEL: Sir James!… Sir James! … Half past seven, sir! SIR JAMES!

  (Rattles door handle)

  NIGEL: Bolted inside. He certainly is a heavy sleeper. Better try the other door.

  (We follow his footsteps)

  NIGEL: Oh, it’s you, Captain. I can’t make Sir James hear. The other door is bolted. May I try the one through your cabin?

  GREER: Surely. I’ll come with you.

  (Footsteps. Door opening)

  NIGEL: Not here. That’s funny … And his bunk. Look, Captain … Blankets crushed and rumpled, as if he’d been lying on them, but didn’t actually get inside. You’ve not seen him this morning?

  GREER: He’s not in the saloon. May be on deck, or in the engine room. I’ll take a look round.

  (We hear him climb the companionway. Presently Nigel, humming same tune, follows. Noise of sea.)

  NIGEL: Hello, Mr Maclean. You looking for something too?

  MACLEAN: (startled; wary) Me? What’s that? No.

  NIGEL: Well, I am. Sir James seems to have disappeared.

  (Sound-track quickly through ship. Clatter of plates and knives in forecastle. Sound of engines. Stokers at furnaces. These natural sounds punctuated by an accelerating rhythm of footsteps and occasional snatches of conversation: ‘Anyone seen Sir James about?’ … ‘Owner’s disappeared.’ … ‘Hope the old sod’s chucked himself over t’rail.’ … ‘Ye’ll not find him in my engine room.’ … ‘I always said it weren’t lucky to have women on board.’ … ‘Anyone seen Sir James Braithwaite?’ … ‘Talk about death-ships! Now he’s got a bit of—’ fade back to sound of sea.)

  MACLEAN: But it’s ridiculous. He couldn’t disappear. Not on a ship.

  NIGEL: (dreamily) There’s all that sea, remember. All round us. Perhaps that’s where he’s hiding. (sharply) The ship has been painted recently, hasn’t she?

  MACLEAN: Aye. Specially for this voyage.

  NIGEL: A whited sepulchre. But someone’s been scratching it. Look at those long scratches on the deck. Just where you’re standing. And here are some more marks, on the rail.

  MACLEAN: What?—

  NIGEL: Can’t you see it? Feet dragging, kicking? And then a splash … Mr Maclean. I want you to radio the shore at once. Find out if there’s any more news of that escaped lunatic. Quick, it’s urgent.

  MACLEAN: (doubtfully) Well, I’ll ask Captain Greer—

  (Voice and footsteps receding. Nigel begins to whistle his tune through his teeth. The sound is mixed into the ziz-ziz-ziz of radio sender. Hold radio sound for a few moments, then back to Nigel whistling. He begins to sing, very softly, ‘Come, heavy sleep, thou image of true death,’ as he moves about deck in search of something. Breaks off sharply, and mutters the words to himself)—

  NIGEL: Come, heavy sleep … thou image of true death … Is that it? . . God, what a nerve!… Yes, it might have been done like that … If only I could find what Maclean was looking for …

  (Crawls about deck again, whistling through teeth. After a while, exclaims ‘Ah!’ Whistles again. Mix into ziz-ziz of radio sender. Pause. Sea-sounds as Maclean emerges from wireless room. Follow his footsteps along deck.)

  MACLEAN: Here’s your answer.

  (Rustle of sheet of paper)

  NIGEL: ‘Escaped lunatic recaptured near docks late last night.’

  MACLEAN: He wasn’t on the ship after all, ye see.

  NIGEL: But there was a lunatic. Yes, I—

  (Approaching footsteps)

  GREER: No sign of Sir James anywhere. I’m afraid it looks as if—

  NIGEL: No, we shan’t find him now. Not alive. There’s something I have found, though. It had got underneath that lifeboat. Look.

  GREER: A button.

  NIGEL: Yes, gentlemen. A little brass button.

  (Noise of sea increases: gradually fades out)

  PART II

  THE SOLUTION

  (Sound of engines and sea. Fade into Nigel talking. Almost throughout this scene his voice remains patient and dispassionate, like that of a doctor in his consulting room—in contrast with the nervousness, caginess etc. of the others)

  NIGEL:… so that’s the set-up. Just after midnight Lady Braithwaite and others heard her husband snoring in his cabin. At 7.30 he wasn’t there. It was during that period then, on the face of it, that he was thrown overboard.

  LAURENCE: Thrown overboard? But, damn it all, Strangeways, you’ve just told us the escaped lunatic was recaptured on shore. Are you suggesting that someone on this ship—?

  GREER: That’s a serious statement, Mr Strangeways. Have you not considered the possibility of suicide?

  NIGEL: Suicide? You can’t seriously mean that, Captain? With those scratches on the deck and rail—signs of a struggle? No, it won’t do, I’m afraid. Why should he anyway? He had power, money, reasonable health. Lady Braithwaite, can you imagine any reason why he should want to kill himself?

  ALICE: No … No, I can’t.

  NIGEL: On the other hand, everyone here with the exception of Miss Annesley and myself had remarkably strong reasons for killing him.

  (General outrcry and tohu-bohu)

  ALICE:
No, that’s not true! Daddy had no reason. He never knew—

  NIGEL: Never knew how wretchedly unhappy your husband made you? Is that so, Captain Greer?… Look here, this is a miserable business for us all. Can’t we finish it quickly? If the one who killed Sir James would confess, it’d save the rest of us a great deal of pain. (pause) No? Well, I’m afraid I must go through with it, then. Mr Maclean, where were you between midnight and 7.30?

  MACLEAN: In my cabin asleep, till four o’clock. Then I went on watch. Mind you, I can’t prove I was below asleep, but—

  LAURENCE: Well, it couldn’t have been Alice or Laura or myself. We were in double cabins. None of us could have got out without waking the other.

  NIGEL: Oh But I think you could. Remember the alarm we had at midnight. None of us had been able to go to sleep before that. The reaction was a big one. We’d all sleep very sound after it—unless one of us wanted to keep awake.

  LAURENCE: If you’re suggesting that Alice—

  NIGEL: She had the strongest motive for getting rid of Sir James. She said more than once—so Miss Annesley has told me—that there was ‘only one way out—’

  LAURA: I’m sorry, darling. He—he sort of wormed it out of me. I didn’t mean.

  ALICE: When I said there was only one way out, I was thinking of something else.

  GREER: Alice!

  ALICE: I was going to kill myself. I couldn’t stand it any— (she breaks down)

  NIGEL: You’d better take her out, Miss Annesley.

  (They go out)

  NIGEL: Lady Braithwaite couldn’t have done it, of course. She’s not nearly strong enough to throw a man overboard.

  LAURENCE: Then why did you bully her into—

  NIGEL: Control yourself. I said this was going to be a painful business for us all, if the murderer didn’t confess. He still has the chance. (pause) Oh well. Now, have any of you asked yourselves how the murderer got Sir James out on deck at all? He wouldn’t be apt to go for a constitutional round the deck in the early hours or the morning, especially when he believed there might be a maniac sloping around, out for his blood. Would he, Annesley?

  MACLEAN: That’s a verra interesting point.

  NIGEL: I suggest the one thing strong enough to master Sir James’ fear was his jealousy. He was insanely jealous of his wife and Annesley. Now supposing Annesley somehow conveyed to Sir James that he had made an assignation with Lady Braithwaite to meet him on the deck when everyone was asleep—allowed Sir James to intercept a note, perhaps; or—