The Dunbar Case(7)

I enjoyed the walk from Pyrmont and the feeling that, although the city was humming around me, I could access some tranquillity with a little exercise. The Maritime Museum was one of those modern light and airy structures that looked as if they could float away but was actually all solid concrete, glass and steel.



Wakefield, in a grey suit more appropriate to the duller day, was standing outside the museum talking on his mobile phone. He raised a hand in greeting and I hung back until he’d finished. Some people are happy to carry on a mobile phone and a live conversation at the same time or to text while they’re talking to you. Not me.



He slid the phone into his pocket and patted himself to make sure it hadn’t disturbed the line of the jacket.



‘Good afternoon, Cliff. I hope we’re on those terms now.’



‘Henry.’ We shook hands.



‘Fine structure, isn’t it?’ He gestured at the museum.



‘It looks right for what it is.’



‘True. Let’s go inside and I’ll show you what they’ve got on the ship.’



We were given stick-on visitor tags and went up a series of ramps into the heart of the building.



‘It’s part of the Age of Sail section,’ Wakefield said. His tone was condescending. ‘Nicely done, I’d say.’



He conducted me unerringly through a succession of rooms and passages with muted light and stopped in front of a large glass showcase. The exhibit contained a sizeable painting of the vessel in full sail and a collection of items brought up from the wreck—coins, buttons, bottles, a watch, rings.



‘The water’s turbulent at that spot,’ Wakefield said. ‘A great deal of the material would have been carried away immediately. The bottom is sandy and sand shifts. This is all the divers retrieved.’



I leaned close to the glass. ‘It’s effective, I’d say. It’s modest, but I reckon it captures the sadness of the event.’



‘Yes, I suppose so.’



I took a good look at the painting. ‘It was a beautiful ship.’



‘Yes it was and it cost a lot to travel in the best cabins. There were some wealthy people aboard. That’s an important part of the story. Let’s get on with things.’



We retraced our steps and walked to the nearest cafe. Wakefield asked to see my contract. He looked through it quickly and took out a silver pen and a chequebook.



‘Very professional,’ he said.



‘Hold on. You were going to fill me in some more before we signed up.’



‘I’ve never met anyone so reluctant to get his hands on serious money. Okay, to pick up from where we left off—a man with something to hide and wealthy people aboard the ship.’



‘Go on.’



‘One of the passengers was a man named Daniel Abrahams. A Jew, of course, he was born in America and had spent some time in South Africa. I can’t begin to tell you how difficult it has been to trace his story through various sources but the upshot is this—he found diamonds in South Africa about ten years before anyone else. He’d been hired to prospect for them by one of the companies that eventually established the huge diamond mines in that country, but he ... broke faith with them. He failed to report his discovery, took a large cache of diamonds and fled to England.’



‘Bloody diamonds,’ I said.



‘Excuse me?’



‘They’ve caused more trouble in the world than they’re worth.’



‘If you say so. The point is, Abrahams seems to have thought he was in danger in England and he took a ship to Australia.’



I’d ordered coffee. Wakefield ignored it when it arrived and went on with his story.



‘Abrahams was aboard the Dunbar with a fortune in diamonds in his possession. He was in one of the premium cabins and Twizell was right there beside him. Both were single; they would have hobnobbed.’



I drank some coffee. ‘I feel you’re stretching things a bit.’



‘Not so. Almost everything I’ve said is documented.’



‘Almost.’



‘Just listen. Twizell’s son owned three ships. How did he acquire them?’



‘You tell me.’



‘From his father, who bought them on the proceeds of selling Daniel Abraham’s diamonds.’



‘A fifty-year-old man swam ashore when the waves were smashing the boat to bits?’



‘No. He left the ship at Bega when she offloaded a sick passenger. I believe that was Twizell.’



‘There was an inquiry, wasn’t there? Was this mentioned?’



‘Who was there to mention it?’