Chapter eight
Back at the police wagon Sergeant Peck had given the driver directions to the alley that gave access to the ship we sought. But before I climbed into the back of the wagon I stepped up beside the drivers bench.
“Driver, do you know Dunbeck and Carter?”
“The place what does all the guns, yes sir I does.”
“Good, take us there first, I have some shopping to do.”
Sergeant Peck looked slightly puzzled at this.
I spoke quietly so that the driver and constables in the back could not hear.
“As big as a bear, claws that can cut through brick. I feel the need for something a little larger than my police revolver for this hunt”.
The sergeant nodded at that. No doubt thinking about the last time we had fought a monster together.
~
Dunbeck and Carter was a strange little shop. The front windows were covered with old grey lace curtains so nothing could be seen of the shop as you walked passed on the street. The sigh overhead was faded with age and contained only the name and street number. No mention was made of the nature of the shop. It looked no more than a small harmless shop in a row of small harmless shops.
Inside however it was very different. The door from the street led into a small hall and a second door, this of iron like the vault of a bank. Beyond this door you entered the shop proper and though it was narrow it ran the full depth of the building to a staircase at the back.
Each wall was lined with rifles and shotguns along with some displays of pistols around the black oak counter.
Mr Carter had run the place for as long as I had known of it, few had ever met Dunbeck, he was the craftsman who made many of the weapons that graced the walls but was an intensely private man. Still many as far away as London or the midlands were proud to own the fine weapons either made or customised here.
“Inspector Thorn sir, a pleasure to see you again. Nice to see you up and about, your injuries not troubling you I hope”.
“Mr Carter. Thank you for asking, I am in good health”.
He was polite enough to not notice that I was limping a little as I walked across to the counter.
“How can I be of service today Inspector, a new shotgun perhaps. The papers made much of your battle with those rats.”
“Perhaps not Mr Carter though I would value your advice with regard to a new weapon.”
I considered carefully for a few seconds, how would it be best to put this.
“I am engage on a hunt, a creature, most dangerous. Large and at loose in the city. The size and strength of a bear. In fact I will say it is a bear, a most fearsome member of the species”.
Carter looked thoughtful. “A bear you say, large and aggressive. Would that be the monster on the docks sir, perhaps escaped from the same ship as those giant rats? You may trust our discretion here Inspector.”
He turned and gestured to a rack of rifles on the opposite wall.
“We have a fine selection or hunting rifles. Single chamber, lever action. Single or double barrel. Belgian, German, American and of course British made.”
He pointed at several rifles in turn.
“Lion or tiger at 120 yards. Perhaps this one, I have received reports of such a rifle being used to drop a full grown Canadian bear at 50 yards. Or for the largest prey we stock several elephant rifles in single or double barrel.”
He turned back to face me. “Do you have an idea as to the range you will be shooting at?”
“It is on board a ship so perhaps ten or twenty feet.”
Carter stopped at that. “On board a ship, tricky. Long arms would be difficult to use, something smaller. Ah I may have the perfect thing for you Inspector, something that was ordered but never used. You will be needed several shots at that range, just to be certain you bag your game of course”.
He gestured me to sit on one of the upholstered chairs that dotted the room to allow gentlemen to sit while viewing a potential choice and he walked the length of the room to the back where there were shelves rather than racks.
He rummaged around, picking up and moving several boxes or paper wrapped parcels before finding a plain wooden box and a pair of card boxes.
He returned to the counter and placed all three in front of me.
I turned the wooden box around so the hinges were away from me and lifted the lid. Inside it was padded with blue cloth around the shape of a blue steel revolver. But one of considerable size. I reached into the box and lifted out the revolver, the weight alone told me this was a substantial weapon. Easily three times the heft of my police issue revolver.
Carter opened one of the card boxes and slid out a wooded tray that held twelve bullets, each the size of the top of my thumb. I checked the action, the cylinder spun smoothly; the trigger action was clean and crisp.
This was a monster of a revolver, it seemed an appropriate weapon to use when hunting a monster.
A smile came to my lips and Mr Carter's face brightened, he clearly saw a sale confirmed.
“Would you like me to send the invoice to your house Inspector?”
I nodded, still distracted by the weight of steel in my hands.
Now how to carry it, the only pocket I had that would even vaguely fit such a pistol was inside my jacket on the left. Where I carried my note books and such.
I tried to fit the heavy and sizable weapon into the pocket, it did not fit and would fall out. I twisted and pushed and suddenly the lining of the pocket ripped, the barrel slid down between the inner and outer layers of the jacket and the revolver sat nicely within the pocket.
I slid it back out to ensure I could draw it cleanly then loaded all five chambers with the hefty rounds. The remaining seven from that box went into a pocket on the right of my jacket and the other box of rounds went into my overcoat.
With the revolver back inside the jacket it did pull down the left side but not such that it would be any great inconvenience.
I looked up to see the smiling face of Mr Carter. “Perfect sir, that should stop your bear and no one can see you are armed”.
“Ah Mr Carter about the, shall we say bear”.
“You may rely on our discretion sir. Good luck on your”, he paused for second,” bear hunt”.
~
Following directions from the sergeant who sat on the drivers bench beside the driver we again made good time to the docks and the warehouses that filled the streets and lanes immediately behind the docks.
The driver entered the alley then stopped suddenly with a curse.
The alley was clearly a dead end, blocked by a great pile of old and weathered crates and barrels.
The wagon could go no further and neither could we.
“Perhaps they lied to get rid of us sergeant, foolish though as we can easily return to find them again.”
“Maybe no sir, maybe not.” Sergeant Peck had walked closer to the blockage.
“You might want to see this sir.”
I walked along the alley to join him and as I did something became apparent. From the street or even just inside the alley it was clearly a dead end, blocked by a wall of crates.
But close up it was two walls of crates, the first covering two thirds of the alley but leaving a gap some three feet wide. The second was set close behind on the opposite side. From a distance it looked like a solid wall. Up close there was a clear dog leg that allowed passage.
“Sneaky bastards, never knew this was here.” The sergeant turned from commenting on the passage and called back to the constables and the wagon driver.
“Keep the wagon here. You three gather up the, erm, items and follow the Inspector.”
“Items sergeant?” I said as all three of the constables reached into the wagon and emerged with long items wrapped in blankets or coats.
“Just in case sir, never be too careful. Not after last time.”
I couldn’t argue with that and turned to walk between the walls of crates.
On the other side I found myself in the sunlight and standing at the edge of the river beside a wooden pier. Oddly the water here seemed deep, rather than the mud at the river’s edge I looked down into water deep enough for the ship that floated here.
The wooden pier was old and well worn; the planks creaked beneath the steps of the five of us. The main docks ended some eighty feet upriver and the commonly used wooden pier extended downstream from there along the deeper water channel. The ships and hoardings along that pier formed a barrier that concealed this old pier and the ship docked here from the sight of traffic on the river.
In fact as I looked along the mud back toward the stone dock I could see the opening where we had found the giant rats.
The ship was an old one, a single main mast amidships, a cargo hatch forward and extensive single deck cabins to the rear, She looked odd somehow, I was no sailor but something was out of place. She looked old and worn but as I stepped on the gang plank I could see the hull planks though covered in faded paint and dried salt spray seemed to be well maintained and smooth.
Her name was barely visible on the bow, the paint faded with age and the constant impact of salt water. I peered a little closer, trying to read it. Certainly not French or Latin, not German. Perhaps one of the Far Eastern languages.
I wrote the name in my note book, I could find out what language the name ”Thri Gof’nn” was later.
The deck was no more than four feet above the water line, there was a small half deck at the bow that was not more than seven feet above the water and the wheel which was mounted on a deck above the cabins was no more than 10 feet above water.
Not a good ship to take out in a storm unless you could breath underwater.
The mast was not that tall and did not look as if it could carry much in the way of sail, which was odd. The ship looked low and fast but with such a short mast and limited sail it could be nothing but slow,
By this point I had taken three steps up the gang plank and reached the deck just in front of the mast. Looking toward the bow I could clearly see the forward cargo hold hatch, it was like a portcullis, a grid of heavy beams. Judging by the thickness of the beams it must weight a ton or more, the crew must winch the thing up and down.
Looking toward the stern there was a single steep stair either side leading up to the wheel deck and a three very solid looking doors leading into the cabin. One in the middle and the other pair set together and to the right.
No windows anywhere that I could see, perhaps that was what felt so odd about the ship.
I walked towards the bow for a closer look at the hatch.
It was shaped like a portcullis, constructed of well weathered timber beams some four inches square, the gap between the beams was about the same size. Looking down through the hatch the cargo hold was mostly shadows and shapes covered with canvas. A narrow walkway left clear directly under me to allow the crew to walk the length of the hold.
Oddly I could see no sign of a winch to life the thing, it must weigh several tons of wood, it could not be lifted by a handful of men. Aha, the mast was just aft of the hatch and had a winch to lift the beam, they must use that.
I walked around the hatch and found that it was hinged on the starboard side, huge cylinder hinges, well greased against the weather but still rusted from age and spray. Continuing round I reached the port side and found a simple bar bolt to hold it in place.
The bolt was fixed to the hatch and was a good foot long and twice the thickness of my thumb. Simply moving it would take a strong man. It must lock to a ring on the deck, but there was no ring. The deck was splintered and torn, the wood new and raw. I could see into the darkness of the cargo hold through the ragged hole marked by the drilled remains of bolt holes.
What on earth could have torn the bolt ring completely off the deck and ripped a hole through the deck planks. Perhaps one of the dock side stream cranes had caught it. I could think of nothing else that could do such a thing.
Looking back along the length of the ship I noticed yet another odd thing about this strange ship.
The guard rails along both sides curved inward to match the shape of the hull, the deck also curved slightly to match the hull. Something was wrong though, the curves, the bend of the hull, the shape. Flowing together, becoming a single shape that twisted and spun.
I shook my head to clear the strange buzzing that had suddenly come upon me and walked back along the length of the ship toward the doors into the cabin.
“Sergeant have a look up there would you, I’m going to check the cabins.”
Peck looked at me. “You want us to separate Sir?”
“No, just check the top deck and come back. I will go no further than the doorway.”
“Right you are sir.” Peck sounded dubious as if the sergeant either thought I would rush into the depths of the ship or one of us would be killed because we were out of sight of each other.
It was broad daylight not the stygian depths of a moonless night deep inside a crumbling old warehouse. Nothing would happen out here in the light of day.
I tried the middle door first; it was locked and just as solid and heavy as it looked. The captain’s key worked and the door swung open, daylight streamed in to reveal a corridor leading aft. Two doors set equally along the left, one at the far end which looked to be halfway to the stern and one on the right opposite the furthest door on the left.
I checked and there was no door on the right to match the closer door on the left.
I stepped sideways to the double doors, again the captain’s key opened one and both pushed inward. If anything these were even heavier than the main door.
They led directly onto a broad staircase that led down then turned sharply and went down again. This must be how they got to the forward cargo hold but why waste so much space hiding the stair behind so strong a door?
“Inspector. Up here sir”
I stretched up, barely able to see over the level of the wheel deck to where the sergeant stood.
“Something you should see sir”, he was pointing toward the very rear of the deck.
I climbed up the steep stair and reached the wheel deck. The deck was some fifteen feet wide and at least thirty feet long, the walls of the cabin followed the curve of the hull round and inward at the top so the deck was noticeably narrower than the main deck.
Again this seemed odd, a waste of space. Something about the way the hull curved, trapping my gaze. I blinked and shook my head again.
The sergeant was at the rear and I walked to join him beside something that was sitting on the deck well behind the wheel. It had been painted black and recently by the look of it. A cylinder of metal sheet about a foot across and some eight feet in length. It was tied to rings set in the deck.
The rear railing and last ten feet of railing either side were hung with old canvas sheeting so the cylinder would be hidden from casual view lying on the deck as it was.
Just in front of the cylinder I could see there was some sort of frame around a circular hole in the deck. As I reached it and took a careful look it seemed to me that one end of the cylinder would fit into the frame and be exactly over the hole. The smell of soot confirmed my suspicion as I bent for a closer look.
“She’s steam powered Inspector, real sneaky. Probably a smuggler.”
“Yes, they must put up the funnel when they are out of sight. Something for the excise lads to be taking a good look at I think”.
“You reckon she will be here by the time they get the word sir, that captain fella must have known we would find this.”
“Not our job sergeant, leave that. Let’s check the cabin.”
Back at the police wagon Sergeant Peck had given the driver directions to the alley that gave access to the ship we sought. But before I climbed into the back of the wagon I stepped up beside the drivers bench.
“Driver, do you know Dunbeck and Carter?”
“The place what does all the guns, yes sir I does.”
“Good, take us there first, I have some shopping to do.”
Sergeant Peck looked slightly puzzled at this.
I spoke quietly so that the driver and constables in the back could not hear.
“As big as a bear, claws that can cut through brick. I feel the need for something a little larger than my police revolver for this hunt”.
The sergeant nodded at that. No doubt thinking about the last time we had fought a monster together.
~
Dunbeck and Carter was a strange little shop. The front windows were covered with old grey lace curtains so nothing could be seen of the shop as you walked passed on the street. The sigh overhead was faded with age and contained only the name and street number. No mention was made of the nature of the shop. It looked no more than a small harmless shop in a row of small harmless shops.
Inside however it was very different. The door from the street led into a small hall and a second door, this of iron like the vault of a bank. Beyond this door you entered the shop proper and though it was narrow it ran the full depth of the building to a staircase at the back.
Each wall was lined with rifles and shotguns along with some displays of pistols around the black oak counter.
Mr Carter had run the place for as long as I had known of it, few had ever met Dunbeck, he was the craftsman who made many of the weapons that graced the walls but was an intensely private man. Still many as far away as London or the midlands were proud to own the fine weapons either made or customised here.
“Inspector Thorn sir, a pleasure to see you again. Nice to see you up and about, your injuries not troubling you I hope”.
“Mr Carter. Thank you for asking, I am in good health”.
He was polite enough to not notice that I was limping a little as I walked across to the counter.
“How can I be of service today Inspector, a new shotgun perhaps. The papers made much of your battle with those rats.”
“Perhaps not Mr Carter though I would value your advice with regard to a new weapon.”
I considered carefully for a few seconds, how would it be best to put this.
“I am engage on a hunt, a creature, most dangerous. Large and at loose in the city. The size and strength of a bear. In fact I will say it is a bear, a most fearsome member of the species”.
Carter looked thoughtful. “A bear you say, large and aggressive. Would that be the monster on the docks sir, perhaps escaped from the same ship as those giant rats? You may trust our discretion here Inspector.”
He turned and gestured to a rack of rifles on the opposite wall.
“We have a fine selection or hunting rifles. Single chamber, lever action. Single or double barrel. Belgian, German, American and of course British made.”
He pointed at several rifles in turn.
“Lion or tiger at 120 yards. Perhaps this one, I have received reports of such a rifle being used to drop a full grown Canadian bear at 50 yards. Or for the largest prey we stock several elephant rifles in single or double barrel.”
He turned back to face me. “Do you have an idea as to the range you will be shooting at?”
“It is on board a ship so perhaps ten or twenty feet.”
Carter stopped at that. “On board a ship, tricky. Long arms would be difficult to use, something smaller. Ah I may have the perfect thing for you Inspector, something that was ordered but never used. You will be needed several shots at that range, just to be certain you bag your game of course”.
He gestured me to sit on one of the upholstered chairs that dotted the room to allow gentlemen to sit while viewing a potential choice and he walked the length of the room to the back where there were shelves rather than racks.
He rummaged around, picking up and moving several boxes or paper wrapped parcels before finding a plain wooden box and a pair of card boxes.
He returned to the counter and placed all three in front of me.
I turned the wooden box around so the hinges were away from me and lifted the lid. Inside it was padded with blue cloth around the shape of a blue steel revolver. But one of considerable size. I reached into the box and lifted out the revolver, the weight alone told me this was a substantial weapon. Easily three times the heft of my police issue revolver.
Carter opened one of the card boxes and slid out a wooded tray that held twelve bullets, each the size of the top of my thumb. I checked the action, the cylinder spun smoothly; the trigger action was clean and crisp.
This was a monster of a revolver, it seemed an appropriate weapon to use when hunting a monster.
A smile came to my lips and Mr Carter's face brightened, he clearly saw a sale confirmed.
“Would you like me to send the invoice to your house Inspector?”
I nodded, still distracted by the weight of steel in my hands.
Now how to carry it, the only pocket I had that would even vaguely fit such a pistol was inside my jacket on the left. Where I carried my note books and such.
I tried to fit the heavy and sizable weapon into the pocket, it did not fit and would fall out. I twisted and pushed and suddenly the lining of the pocket ripped, the barrel slid down between the inner and outer layers of the jacket and the revolver sat nicely within the pocket.
I slid it back out to ensure I could draw it cleanly then loaded all five chambers with the hefty rounds. The remaining seven from that box went into a pocket on the right of my jacket and the other box of rounds went into my overcoat.
With the revolver back inside the jacket it did pull down the left side but not such that it would be any great inconvenience.
I looked up to see the smiling face of Mr Carter. “Perfect sir, that should stop your bear and no one can see you are armed”.
“Ah Mr Carter about the, shall we say bear”.
“You may rely on our discretion sir. Good luck on your”, he paused for second,” bear hunt”.
~
Following directions from the sergeant who sat on the drivers bench beside the driver we again made good time to the docks and the warehouses that filled the streets and lanes immediately behind the docks.
The driver entered the alley then stopped suddenly with a curse.
The alley was clearly a dead end, blocked by a great pile of old and weathered crates and barrels.
The wagon could go no further and neither could we.
“Perhaps they lied to get rid of us sergeant, foolish though as we can easily return to find them again.”
“Maybe no sir, maybe not.” Sergeant Peck had walked closer to the blockage.
“You might want to see this sir.”
I walked along the alley to join him and as I did something became apparent. From the street or even just inside the alley it was clearly a dead end, blocked by a wall of crates.
But close up it was two walls of crates, the first covering two thirds of the alley but leaving a gap some three feet wide. The second was set close behind on the opposite side. From a distance it looked like a solid wall. Up close there was a clear dog leg that allowed passage.
“Sneaky bastards, never knew this was here.” The sergeant turned from commenting on the passage and called back to the constables and the wagon driver.
“Keep the wagon here. You three gather up the, erm, items and follow the Inspector.”
“Items sergeant?” I said as all three of the constables reached into the wagon and emerged with long items wrapped in blankets or coats.
“Just in case sir, never be too careful. Not after last time.”
I couldn’t argue with that and turned to walk between the walls of crates.
On the other side I found myself in the sunlight and standing at the edge of the river beside a wooden pier. Oddly the water here seemed deep, rather than the mud at the river’s edge I looked down into water deep enough for the ship that floated here.
The wooden pier was old and well worn; the planks creaked beneath the steps of the five of us. The main docks ended some eighty feet upriver and the commonly used wooden pier extended downstream from there along the deeper water channel. The ships and hoardings along that pier formed a barrier that concealed this old pier and the ship docked here from the sight of traffic on the river.
In fact as I looked along the mud back toward the stone dock I could see the opening where we had found the giant rats.
The ship was an old one, a single main mast amidships, a cargo hatch forward and extensive single deck cabins to the rear, She looked odd somehow, I was no sailor but something was out of place. She looked old and worn but as I stepped on the gang plank I could see the hull planks though covered in faded paint and dried salt spray seemed to be well maintained and smooth.
Her name was barely visible on the bow, the paint faded with age and the constant impact of salt water. I peered a little closer, trying to read it. Certainly not French or Latin, not German. Perhaps one of the Far Eastern languages.
I wrote the name in my note book, I could find out what language the name ”Thri Gof’nn” was later.
The deck was no more than four feet above the water line, there was a small half deck at the bow that was not more than seven feet above the water and the wheel which was mounted on a deck above the cabins was no more than 10 feet above water.
Not a good ship to take out in a storm unless you could breath underwater.
The mast was not that tall and did not look as if it could carry much in the way of sail, which was odd. The ship looked low and fast but with such a short mast and limited sail it could be nothing but slow,
By this point I had taken three steps up the gang plank and reached the deck just in front of the mast. Looking toward the bow I could clearly see the forward cargo hold hatch, it was like a portcullis, a grid of heavy beams. Judging by the thickness of the beams it must weight a ton or more, the crew must winch the thing up and down.
Looking toward the stern there was a single steep stair either side leading up to the wheel deck and a three very solid looking doors leading into the cabin. One in the middle and the other pair set together and to the right.
No windows anywhere that I could see, perhaps that was what felt so odd about the ship.
I walked towards the bow for a closer look at the hatch.
It was shaped like a portcullis, constructed of well weathered timber beams some four inches square, the gap between the beams was about the same size. Looking down through the hatch the cargo hold was mostly shadows and shapes covered with canvas. A narrow walkway left clear directly under me to allow the crew to walk the length of the hold.
Oddly I could see no sign of a winch to life the thing, it must weigh several tons of wood, it could not be lifted by a handful of men. Aha, the mast was just aft of the hatch and had a winch to lift the beam, they must use that.
I walked around the hatch and found that it was hinged on the starboard side, huge cylinder hinges, well greased against the weather but still rusted from age and spray. Continuing round I reached the port side and found a simple bar bolt to hold it in place.
The bolt was fixed to the hatch and was a good foot long and twice the thickness of my thumb. Simply moving it would take a strong man. It must lock to a ring on the deck, but there was no ring. The deck was splintered and torn, the wood new and raw. I could see into the darkness of the cargo hold through the ragged hole marked by the drilled remains of bolt holes.
What on earth could have torn the bolt ring completely off the deck and ripped a hole through the deck planks. Perhaps one of the dock side stream cranes had caught it. I could think of nothing else that could do such a thing.
Looking back along the length of the ship I noticed yet another odd thing about this strange ship.
The guard rails along both sides curved inward to match the shape of the hull, the deck also curved slightly to match the hull. Something was wrong though, the curves, the bend of the hull, the shape. Flowing together, becoming a single shape that twisted and spun.
I shook my head to clear the strange buzzing that had suddenly come upon me and walked back along the length of the ship toward the doors into the cabin.
“Sergeant have a look up there would you, I’m going to check the cabins.”
Peck looked at me. “You want us to separate Sir?”
“No, just check the top deck and come back. I will go no further than the doorway.”
“Right you are sir.” Peck sounded dubious as if the sergeant either thought I would rush into the depths of the ship or one of us would be killed because we were out of sight of each other.
It was broad daylight not the stygian depths of a moonless night deep inside a crumbling old warehouse. Nothing would happen out here in the light of day.
I tried the middle door first; it was locked and just as solid and heavy as it looked. The captain’s key worked and the door swung open, daylight streamed in to reveal a corridor leading aft. Two doors set equally along the left, one at the far end which looked to be halfway to the stern and one on the right opposite the furthest door on the left.
I checked and there was no door on the right to match the closer door on the left.
I stepped sideways to the double doors, again the captain’s key opened one and both pushed inward. If anything these were even heavier than the main door.
They led directly onto a broad staircase that led down then turned sharply and went down again. This must be how they got to the forward cargo hold but why waste so much space hiding the stair behind so strong a door?
“Inspector. Up here sir”
I stretched up, barely able to see over the level of the wheel deck to where the sergeant stood.
“Something you should see sir”, he was pointing toward the very rear of the deck.
I climbed up the steep stair and reached the wheel deck. The deck was some fifteen feet wide and at least thirty feet long, the walls of the cabin followed the curve of the hull round and inward at the top so the deck was noticeably narrower than the main deck.
Again this seemed odd, a waste of space. Something about the way the hull curved, trapping my gaze. I blinked and shook my head again.
The sergeant was at the rear and I walked to join him beside something that was sitting on the deck well behind the wheel. It had been painted black and recently by the look of it. A cylinder of metal sheet about a foot across and some eight feet in length. It was tied to rings set in the deck.
The rear railing and last ten feet of railing either side were hung with old canvas sheeting so the cylinder would be hidden from casual view lying on the deck as it was.
Just in front of the cylinder I could see there was some sort of frame around a circular hole in the deck. As I reached it and took a careful look it seemed to me that one end of the cylinder would fit into the frame and be exactly over the hole. The smell of soot confirmed my suspicion as I bent for a closer look.
“She’s steam powered Inspector, real sneaky. Probably a smuggler.”
“Yes, they must put up the funnel when they are out of sight. Something for the excise lads to be taking a good look at I think”.
“You reckon she will be here by the time they get the word sir, that captain fella must have known we would find this.”
“Not our job sergeant, leave that. Let’s check the cabin.”