William Monk 14 - The Shifting Tide

taking a boat down the river to Deptford Creek, just short of Greenwich.
    He went ashore on the south bank and walked slowly along the street past ironmongers, ships’ chandlers, sailmakers, and general stores, making a note of the local public house, and then went and stood on the dockside as if waiting for someone. After a little while watching the laborers come and go, he began to appreciate how many men worked for Culpepper in one way or another. Culpepper was obviously an ambitious man.
    In the public house at lunchtime again he listened, then, when he had heard enough, he continued to fall into conversation with a disgruntled dock laborer who said his name was Duff.
    “It’s hard,” Monk sympathized with him. “Good work isn’t easy to come by.”
    “Good work!” Duff exploded. “They’re a bunch o’ cutthroats, the whole poxy lot of ’em.”
    “Pity they don’t cut each other’s throats and save us all our grief,” Monk agreed.
    “Could ’appen.” Duff looked suddenly cheerful at the thought. “Culpepper an’ Louvain, any road. That’d be a start.”
    “That’s what I heard,” Monk agreed. He leaned forward confidentially.
    “I have interests. I need to be sure I put them in the right place. Can’t afford to back a loser.”
    Duff’s eyes brightened and he sat forward a little. “Prepared ter pay a little for yer information, are yer?”
    “If it’s accurate,” Monk answered. He made no threat as to what would happen if it were not, but he looked steadily at Duff’s narrow face and held his gaze. “And I keep my promises, good and bad.”
    Duff swallowed. “What is it yer need ter know, like?”
    “I’ll take a little at a time, and test it,” Monk replied. “If it’s true, I’ll pay in gold. If it’s false, you’ll pay in blood. How’s that?”
    Duff swallowed again. “I got friends too. If yer gold in’t the real thing, yer’ll never dare come back ’ere. River’s eaten more’n one gent as thought ’e were an ’ell of a clever sod.”
    “I’m sure it has. Let’s start with saving me a bit of time. How many properties does Culpepper have, where are they, and what does he have his eye on to buy next?”
    “Easy!” Duff listed three wharves, a couple of warehouses, and a lodging house, as well as a good-sized dwelling. “An’ ’e wants the clipper, the
Eliza May
, soon as she comes up for sale.” He grinned. “So does Clem Louvain. We’ll see ’oo ’as the money on the day, eh? She’s a beauty! Cut their sailing time by a week or more from the Indies. Worth thousands o’ pounds, that is, with a good load. First in makes a fortune; second counts fer nothin’, a few ’undred.”
    Monk knew that already. He needed to learn if Culpepper had either hired the thieves who had taken the ivory, or if he had bought it from them afterwards, knowing that it would be the beginning of defeat for Louvain.
    He stayed, questioning Duff for another half hour, passed him a gold guinea, and sent him to find out more about recent cargoes. A mass of questions that he asked disguised the one that mattered.
    He spent the afternoon farther down the river watching, making notes of cargoes, times of comings and goings, and began to amass enough information to tell him how far Culpepper’s empire stretched.
    The following day he returned with more money to pay Duff. By now he was learning enough of Culpepper’s trade to see how important it was to his future profits that he, and not Louvain, purchase the
Eliza May
.
    “Course ’e wants it!” Duff said bitterly. “ ’e won’t be top dog down ’ere anymore ’less ’e does! Louvain neither.”
    “There’ll be other ships, won’t there?” Monk asked, leaning on the railing of the pier and watching the dark water churn beneath him. The barges going past, following the tide, were so heavily laden that in places the decks were awash.
    “Course, but losin’ counts,” Duff replied, pulling a clay pipe out of the pocket of his coat, knocking the dottle out, then shredding tobacco with the fingers of his other hand before stuffing the shreds into the bowl. “Lose one fight, an’ the next time you start out two steps be’ind, like. People don’ back yer no more. Folks as used ter be scared o’ yer all of a sudden find out they’re more scared o’ someone else.” He put the pipe in his mouth and struck a match to light it, inhaling slowly. “Winnin’ an’ losin’ ’as their own rules,” he went on.