Free Death on the Rocks by Deryn Lake Page A

thoughts. It seemed unlikely to him that the great oaf passing himself off as Augustus Bagot could be the same person that both Commodore and the old sailor remembered with a certain fondness – a wild, naughty young man who had owned a dirty dog called Sam and who had got at least two girls into trouble before running away to sea. Yet how to prove it? Admittedly the juvenile Augustus had had a birthmark on his buttocks. But short of demanding that the present Augustus bare all – a thought that made the Apothecary feel definitely nauseous – John could think of no other answer.
    It was a silver night, the moon drenching the river and the fisherboats sailing quietly on its breeze-ruffled surface. The avenue of trees threw sable shadows of branches on to the walkway below, tracing delicate patterns of leaves beneath John’s shoes, the buckles gleaming in the moonshine, the points of light dancing ahead of him as he walked along. There were not many people about at this hour of the night, a few going for a rapid constitutional, but mostly couples, many young and in love, whispering into each other’s ears. And then John heard the sound of hurrying footsteps and turned to see Commodore trying to catch up with him. He stopped walking and the slave panted up to his side.
    ‘Oh Mr Rawlings, the Master thought there was something else I should tell you.’
    ‘How did you get here?’ asked John, astonished to see him.
    ‘I came down the steps, Sir, and I held my breath on every one.’
    ‘Why did you do that?’
    Commodore rolled his great dark eyes. ‘Because of the danger, Sir. They are cut out of the rock and are always wet. I would never have risked them but I felt there was something further that I had to say to you.’
    ‘About young Augustus?’
    ‘Yes. Well, I know of one person locally who would remember him. But the present Mr Bagot refuses to call on him, says he is a scoundrel and a wastrel and refuses even to see him.’
    ‘So who is this interesting man?’
    ‘Sir Roland Tavener, Sir. A most respected member of our community, whose only fault seems to be that his late brother Charles beat young Augustus into a pulp over an argument concerning Sir Charles’s sister.’
    ‘I met an old sailor in Bristol who told me that Augustus went to live with him when he ran away from home. Apparently young Bagot was very free and easy with the ladies.’
    Commodore’s great set of white teeth flashed vividly in the moonlight. ‘You could say that, Sir. I would not disagree.’
    ‘Tell me exactly how old was Augustus when he ran away from home?’
    ‘Fourteen years, Sir, just after he found that rough bit of canine.’
    ‘And he got a place to live and enough money to support himself?’
    ‘Oh Master Rawlings, as soon as he was inducted into the Rat Pitt he never looked back. Old dog Sam earned him a fortune. But still he remained living in squalor.’
    ‘But if you knew where he was, why didn’t his parents try to get him back?’
    ‘Well, he never told me his actual address, said he wouldn’t burden me with the knowledge. So when his parents went looking for him – and they tried repeatedly, believe me – he would disappear with some of his raggety friends and not emerge again until he knew the coast was clear.’
    ‘Did he hate his mother and stepfather so much?’
    ‘No, but he was a naughty character, though I forgave him everything. It was just that he enjoyed the freedom of not having to go to school and being his own master.’
    ‘So is it true he sired a couple of little bastards before he left Bristol’s shores?’
    Commodore looked at the ground. ‘I’m not rightly sure of the number, Sir. But he did mention to me that he had given at least two damsels a belly-bump.’
    ‘And you don’t know who these damsels were?’
    ‘Have no idea, Master.’
    But the bending away of Commodore’s head and the fact that he kept his eyes firmly on the ground made John a little suspicious that there