William Monk 14 - The Shifting Tide

one man, compared with that?”
    “We aren’t going to let that happen,” Monk replied between his teeth, his voice uneven because his body was beginning to shake. “Hester will stay locked in the clinic with them. No one will ever come out, except after it’s all over, if there’s anyone left alive. The world will go on exactly as if nothing had ever happened. And justice will still matter.”
    The wash of a string of barges slapped against the stones. “You and I will be the only ones concerned with Gould’s life or death or know anything about it,” Monk went on. “Do we hang an innocent man? If we do that because we’re frightened sick, then why not two, or ten, or a hundred? How many innocent men are worth trying to save?” He could hear the sharp anger in his words, and he knew it was relief because this was something bearable to think about, something they could address. “We have to know the truth anyway.”
    Durban nodded very slowly, his face bleak, then he walked to the top of the steps and spoke to Orme. Monk could not hear what he said, but he saw Orme acknowledge it, frowning in concern, then go back down towards the other men in the boat. Durban came back.
    “Who did Louvain say the dead woman was?” he asked.
    “The cast-off mistress of a friend,” Monk replied.
    “Is it true?” Durban looked sideways at him.
    “I’ve no idea. Might be, or she could have been his own mistress.”
    “Do you think he knew what was wrong with her?”
    “If she was the first one he’d seen, no. When Hester took her in, she thought it was pneumonia.”
    “Pneumonia kills,” Durban pointed out.
    “I know it does. It’s still better than the plague.”
    “Don’t keep saying that word!” Durban snapped. “In fact, don’t ever say it again!”
    Monk ignored the stricture. “On the other hand, if someone had died of it on his ship, he may well have known,” he went on. “But if it happened at sea, and the crew buried him over the side, he might, and he might not. Similarly, if that’s what Hodge died of . . .”
    Durban stared at Monk. “What are you saying? Hodge was in the pneumonic stage, an’ someone killed him to stop him from going ashore? Or that he died of it, an’ they couldn’t dispose of the body at sea because they were here on the river, an’ they bashed his head so no one would look too closely at the rest of the body?”
    “Probably the second,” Monk replied. “Louvain could be innocent or guilty of knowing what happened.”
    “We have to find out whose mistress she was.” Durban’s voice was urgent, edged with fear. “Whoever he is, he could have it too. But worse than that, what about the rest of the crew?”
    “Louvain told me that he paid off three, and there are three men left, now Hodge is dead. You’ll have to have a boat of men to keep them there. Shoot them if you have to,” Monk answered. “There’s not much point in sending a doctor to them. There’s no cure.”
    “We can’t let them unload either,” Durban said thoughtfully. The muscles in his face tightened, his mouth pulling into a thin line. “I hate lying to my men, but I can’t tell them the truth.” There was a question in his eyes, no more than a flicker, as if he still hoped there was another answer and Monk would give it to him.
    “Sutton told his men it was cholera,” Monk replied. “Maybe that’s what the crew think it is as well?”
    Durban nodded slowly. “Then we’d best be about it. We’ve no time to waste.” He started for the steps again and led the way down, Monk on his heels.
    Orme was waiting. He regarded Monk with patient curiosity but little liking. He did not know what to make of him, but he was suspicious.
    Durban did not prevaricate. “The
Maude Idris
has cholera,” he stated quietly, his voice without a tremor as if it were the exact truth he was telling them. “We must stop them from unloading, or anyone at all from coming ashore, until they’re cleared of quarantine. Doesn’t matter what you have to do; shoot them if it comes to that, but it shouldn’t. It’ll be easy enough to see they don’t get a wharf. I’ll do that. We’re going there now, once, to warn them. After that keep your distance—get that?”
    “Yes sir.” They spoke as one man.
    “You’ll get a relief—eight hours on, eight hours off. Don’t let anything distract you. Keeping the disease in is the most important. If you doubt it, just think of your families,” Durban went