Winifred Cabot lay in Victoria Dock, with her crew helping the dockworkers load the cargo under the bitter eye of the grey-bearded mate.
Winifred Cabot“Aye,” the mate eyed Watters with distrust, “I knew the captain was dead.”
“Do you have any idea why?”
“None.” The mate was a man of few words.
“Do you know where he was the night he died?”
“No. Harry Kilner was the captain, not my friend. He didn"t tell me what he was doing.” The mate stepped back. “I"ve got a cargo to load.”
Watters moved to prevent the mate from escaping. “Did he have any friends in Dundee? A woman, perhaps?”
“How the hell should I know?”
Watters saw he was not going to get much out of this man. “Where were you the night of the murder?”
“Me?” The mate stared at Watters. “I was on board Winifred, Mister, and if yo
