‘I wonder what time the jewellery shop opens in the morning?’ said Catherine innocently.

CHAPTER 7

THE LOUD BANGING ON THE door persisted. At first William wondered if it was just part of his dream, but he woke to find it hadn’t stopped. Someone was disturbing the first decent night’s sleep he’d had in days.

He reluctantly got out of bed, put on his dressing gown and opened the door to find James standing in the corridor.

‘Come quickly,’ he said, ‘you’re the only person who can stop it.’

‘Stop what?’ asked William, but James was already on the move. He closed the cabin door quietly, but heard Beth groan as she turned over. Still half asleep, he followed James along the corridor and down a flight of steps to deck one, where he held open the door and waited for his mentor.

William walked out onto the lower deck, where he found the commodore in full dress uniform solemnly addressing a small gathering.

‘Unto Almighty God we commend the soul of our brother departed, and we commit his body to the deep …’

William was horrified to see the Buchanan family, heads bowed, surrounding a coffin that rested on a small raised platform.

‘… in the certain hope of the resurrection unto eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ …’

‘Can’t you do something?’ whispered James hopelessly.

‘Nothing,’ William replied, shaking his head, all too aware that the commodore’s authority prevailed over everyone on board his ship.

‘… at whose coming in glorious majesty to judge the world, the sea shall give up their dead …’

William remained on the edge of the gathering, a spectator of the game being played out in front of him.

‘… and the corruptible bodies of those who sleep in him shall be changed and made like unto his glorious body …’

He took a closer look at the burial party to see Mrs Buchanan was weeping quietly, while her son Angus tried to comfort her. Flora Buchanan stood a pace back, calm and dignified, the mantle of power now resting on her shoulders. Hamish Buchanan, tight-lipped, stood next to Dr Lockhart, whose expression gave nothing away.

‘… according to the mighty working whereby he is able to subdue all things unto himself.’

The commodore closed his prayer book, stood rigidly to attention and saluted. Two young officers stepped forward and raised one end of the platform on which the coffin was resting. The funeral party watched as it slid slowly down its determined path into the sea, before sinking to a salty grave below the waves.

Chief Inspector William Warwick might have been able to convince a coroner to exhume a body that had been buried a few feet below the earth in a graveyard, but not one that rested on the bottom of the ocean. The Buchanan family had buried not only their dead, but the one piece of evidence that would have condemned his murderers.

A minute’s silence followed, after which the commodore saluted once again before issuing a command. Moments later, the propellers began to slowly rotate, allowing the ship to continue on its journey to New York.