Churchyard and Hawke (23 page)

‘They should have known.’ Tom agreed, ‘but we know who is in charge of "K" Division and Dyson wouldn’t have put himself out to help us.’

Ceasing his pacing, Amos said, ‘You are right, of course, Tom. We should both have been aware of that when I sent the original details to London, but it’s frustrating, to say the very least. Send another telegraph right away requesting details of the ship’s planned movements, the ports it will be calling at and the approximate date of its arrival in Adelaide. We’ll try to have Alfie picked up there and returned to us. The problem is going to be that the voyage will take so long that the Australian police will have forgotten all about it by the time it arrives. Even if they do remember he’ll probably be using a different name and nobody there will be able to identify him. I am furious about the whole business but I suppose we must accept what has happened and try to solve both the murder and the robbery without his help. I will need to tell the Chief Constable what is happening.’

An hour later Amos was in Chief Constable Gilbert’s office telling him all that had happened that morning when there came a heavy hammering on the door. Before the Chief Constable had time to respond, the door was flung open and an excited Tom Churchyard appeared in the doorway.

Addressing Amos, he said, ‘I sent a telegraph message to London, sir, asking if they had any information about the James Macintyre’s ports of call on the way to Australia. They have come straight back to say the ship is due to put into Falmouth - today! It’s expected to sail again at dawn tomorrow. If we hurry we might be able to get down there and arrest him . . . .’

Following Tom’s dramatic news, there was great activity at the Bodmin police headquarters. The information about the emigrant ship had come from the London river police, who were an extremely efficient organisation that had been operating for far longer than the Metropolitan Police itself.

Amos’s message requesting details of the ship’s movements had been passed to them and, although the vessel had already left their jurisdiction they immediately contacted the ship’s owners, who informed them that the James Macintyre was scheduled to call at Falmouth to embark Cornish miners who were emigrating to Australia seeking a more secure future than was to be found in Cornish mining. While in the port the ship would also take on board foodstuffs which were cheaper here than in the metropolis.

Amos swiftly learned that if they hurried, it would be possible to reach the railway station at Bodmin Road in time to catch a train that would carry them westwards as far as Truro. While they were on their way instructions would be telegraphed from the Bodmin police station to have a carriage and four Truro based policemen waiting to accompany them on to Falmouth and hopefully succeed in the arrest of Alfie Banks.

Amos took Tom and Harvey with him in order to make a positive identification of the wanted Hoxton criminal as it was almost certain he would have assumed a new identity.

The three policemen reached the Bodmin Road railway station only minutes before the train and were grateful to climb on board and relax on the hour-long journey to Truro.

An inspector was waiting in the Truro station yard for them, excited at the prospect of assisting in the capture of the man who was currently the most wanted criminal in the short history of the Cornwall constabulary.

As the hired carriage bowled along the twisting, undulating and wood-fringed road that led to the busy port of Falmouth, Amos was pleased to discover that the inspector was a keen young policeman who had only recently transferred on promotion, from the longer established Bristol City constabulary. He was eager to prove his worth to the most senior superintendent in his new force.

The inspector had sent a constable ahead of them to locate the Australian bound vessel and seek the aid of the Falmouth revenue men. Awaiting them on the outskirts of the town this constable was able to inform Amos that the James Macintyre was anchored in the Carrick Roads, a large, deepwater natural harbour that had brought past prosperity to the South coast Cornish town.

‘There have been a great many boats going out to the ship carrying stores.’ the constable reported, ‘and I have seen about fifty or so emigrating miners going out to it too, but I was talking to one of the ship’s officers who was checking stores on the jetty. Claiming I had a friend on board, I asked if he might be allowed to come ashore and see me before the ship left. The officer told me the captain would not allow either passengers or crew to leave the ship before it sailed, so if Banks is on board he’ll be kept there and we’ll find him.’

It was what Amos wanted to hear, but he was aware that Alfie Banks was a very resourceful man - and he was not yet a prisoner.

Taking stock of all that was going on around the ship, he said, ‘Have the boats taking stores out to the Janies Macintyre detained and kept here as they return, I don’t want any more of them going out to the ship until our search is over.’

It was another thirty minutes before the last of the port’s boats pulled away from the side of the emigrant ship and Amos and his men set off to board the vessel. They were accompanied by a party of revenue men. Familiar with ship searches they would be aware of likely hiding places that the policemen might miss.

When Amos climbed the ladder to the deck of the James Macintyre he was confronted by the vessel’s furious captain who demanded to know what was happening.

‘Who are you . . . and why has the victualling of my ship been halted?’ The furious mariner demanded. ‘Do you realize I am setting off on a three-month voyage and every ounce of food that I has been ordered is vital to the well-being of my passengers and crew?’

‘You’ll get your victuals, Captain, and I and my men will delay you no longer than is absolutely necessary, but I have received information that one of your passengers is a wanted man. As soon as he is found and arrested the boats will be allowed to come out to you again.’

Unappeased, the angry sailor said, ‘I am in charge of this ship, sir and the passengers are my responsibility. Who is it you are seeking - and what is he supposed to have done that is serious enough to cause such unforgivable inconvenience to me, my ship and a couple of hundred passengers?’

‘His name is Alfie Banks - although he is unlikely to have booked a passage under that name. He is known to have carried out an audacious burglary against one of the most important homes in Cornwall, during the course of which a man died. He is also wanted for questioning about the murder of a young girl who was a servant at the house.’

Only slightly less belligerently, the captain asked, ‘How long is this search of yours likely to take?’

‘With your co-operation not too long, I hope, although I doubt he will make his arrest easy for us.’

‘I am not happy about the disruption you are causing on my ship, sir, and will be submitting a complaint through the ship’s owners, but if it is likely to speed things up you may look through my passenger list and I will make men available to conduct you around the ship . . . but I trust you will waste as little of my time as is possible. All the signs are of bad weather coming in from the east. I want to stay ahead of it if at all possible.’

‘We’ll take up no more of your time than is necessary, Captain, but Banks is a desperate man and well aware of the fate that awaits him if he’s taken. I don’t intend allowing him an opportunity to evade capture yet again.’

‘If you hadn’t given him the opportunity in the first place you wouldn’t be here disrupting my ship’s routine today . . . but just get on with your job, so that I might get on with mine.’

With this the captain turned on his heel and stalked off to his cabin, leaving his first mate to assist Amos with the search of the emigrant ship.

The first search was carried out in the hold which had been fitted out to accommodate the majority of the emigrating men. Many had only just boarded the ship and the hold was in chaos.

It took a while to check the identity of every man in the hold but Harvey and Tom confirmed that Alfie Banks was not among their number.

Leaving two constable to ensure nobody either entered or left the hold until they had completed their search, Amos and the others moved on to the accommodation provided for emigrants travelling as families, or married couples, but here again they drew a blank.

A full hour later the captain was pacing the deck of his ship, muttering darkly about the incompetence of the Cornwall constabulary, his anger fuelled by a liberal helping of the fine cognac he kept in a locked cupboard in his cabin, the fumes of which assailed Amos when he reported on the lack of success of his search.

‘We have searched everywhere except the hold for unaccompanied women - and they are refusing to allow us in there. It seems one who is on her way to join her husband tis giving birth and they say it’s no place for a man, whether he’s a policeman or a criminal.’

‘A woman giving birth on my ship?!’ The captain’s complexion took on an even deeper hue as he found another subject for his anger. ‘The mate has orders not to allow any heavily pregnant women to take passage on the James Macintyre. If they give birth on the voyage the brat invariably dies. That not only brings bad luck, but it casts a pall of gloom on passengers‘ and crew for the remainder of the voyage. I’d as soon cast mother and baby over the side before it’s born. If there’s a woman giving birth I want her off my ship . . . now! You come with me, mister . . . and bring some of your constables with you. You’re paid to deal with trouble . . . my duty is to get this ship to Australia without it. You can take the woman and her brat ashore with you.’

A canvas-hooded hatchway sheltered a makeshift companionway leading down to the women’s quarters in the ship’s forward hold and here a small crowd of women blocked the path of the captain, Amos and the policemen.

‘Get out of the way!’ The captain commanded, ‘Your quarters need to be searched.’

‘It’s no place for any man down there.’ said a woman in an accent that Amos immediately recognized as originating from the East End of London. ‘Someone’s giving birth and it ain’t a pretty sight.’

‘Then she can take her unpretty sight somewhere else.’ declared the captain, ‘She’s not having it on board my ship - and if you don’t get out my way you’ll go ashore with her.’

The women were in no doubt that the ship’s captain meant what he said and, albeit reluctantly, complied with his order.

It was gloomy in the hold, but light from the sheltered hatchway was sufficient for Amos to see the rows of tiered beds filling the space, allowing only a narrow walkway between them.

There were many women down here and a number were gathered around a bunk that occupied a dark corner.

‘Get some light over here!’

The captain’s order was immediately obeyed by one of the two seamen who had followed the party down the companionway. He reached down a lamp that hung from an iron hook in a crossbeam. Fumbling clumsily, he eventually succeeded in lighting it and the impatient captain called, ‘Bring it over here, I want to see what’s going on.’ Pushing his way between the crowding women, he advanced upon a bunk where a figure lay hidden beneath a blanket.

‘She’s had a bad time,’ called a voice from the group of women,’ We’ve left her there to get some rest.’

Wasting no time with a reply the irate captain seized the blanket and, pulling it off sharply paused for a second before exclaiming, ‘Oh! So it’s the bearded lady from some circus who’s giving birth, is it . . . ?’

Before he could say any more, the fully clothed "lady" in question leaped free of the bunk on the side farthest from the captain and sprinted in the direction of the companionway, only to have his path blocked by one of the constables.

Veering to his left, the "bearded lady" pounced upon a young girl of about nine or ten years of age. She screamed with alarm but the sound was cut off by her captor who, holding her about the neck, forced her head back - and suddenly there was a knife in his other hand and the point of it was pressing against the girl’s throat.

‘Stay back . . . all of you, or I’ll slit her throat.’

The voice was certainly not that of a woman and Tom Churchyard said, ‘Don’t make things any worse for yourself than they are right now, Alfie.’

Without lessening his grip on the girl, her captor peered into the gloom beyond the light thrown from the lamp held aloft by the seaman. ‘Who’s that . . . do I know you?’

‘You know me very well, Alfie . . . and I know you. It’s Tom Churchyard of Hackney police station, on "K" division. The last time we met you stamped on my arm and broke my wrist remember?’

Tom was doing his best to distract the wanted man’s attention, hoping someone would creep up behind him and secure him before he did any harm to the girl. Unfortunately, the only man who might have been able to do this was Harvey and he had remained on deck.

‘I remember you . . . and since you know me you’ll know I mean what I say. Come anywhere near - any of you - and I’ll cut her throat from ear to ear . . . .’ In order to emphasise his threat he forced the girl’s chin higher and she began choking.

‘Let the girl go, Alfie, you’re not going anywhere so it’s a choice between prison and the hangman.’

‘I’d rather meet the hangman than spend the rest of my life banged-up.’ came the reply, ‘So that’s no deal at all. If you want her to live you’ll let me take her up on deck and we’ll go ashore in a boat while all of you stay on board. Once we’re ashore and I can see none of you following me I’ll let her go, all safe and sound. If you don’t do as I want . . . .’

He pricked the point of the knife into the girl’s throat and she let out a strangled cry as blood escaped from the small wound and trickled down the pale skin of her neck.

The girl’s mother screamed and would have rushed at Alfie but Amos caught her and, despite her struggles held on to her until she went limp and began sobbing in his arms. Meanwhile, Alfie had inspected his handiwork and, looking up, said, ‘She’s a right little bleeder, ain’t she . . . ? But there’s plenty more where that came from, so if you don’t want to see it you’d better do exactly what I tell you. Get everyone away from those steps up to the deck. I’ll go up backwards very, very slowly and be holding the girl and watching you every inch of the way. You seem to be the man everyone takes notice of, Captain, so you shout out for everyone on deck to keep well clear of the hatch. Once I’m up there you’ll all stay down here until someone from up top tells you we’re in a boat and on our way to the shore.’