His face was livid with rage as he swung the broad, brass-buckled belt at her. “Gimme that dirty rat, or I’ll skin the hide off yer!”
Miggy crouched and covered her head with one arm, protecting Sailor with her body, crying out as the belt struck her.
The force of the blow knocked Miggy off balance. The mongoose jumped from the girl’s shoulders just as Miggy fell backward, hitting her head on the cobbles. The last thing she saw before she blacked out was her uncle Eric. He was gurgling horribly, grabbing at the mongoose, which had him tight by the throat.
Atty Lok heard the splash and limped forward, his bacon knife in one hand, the other holding down a swelling on his forehead. Ice-cold dock water sprayed into his face, causing him to stop right on the edge of the quay. The Siamese cook peered dazedly about him. He saw Miggy lying on the damp cobbles to his left. There was no sign of Eric McGrail, nor the mongoose.
A tall, gaunt man wearing a battered top hat and carrying a sack over one shoulder materialised through the swathes of fog. He saw Atty trying to pick Miggy up, and went to help. “What’s been goin’ on round ’ere? I’m Tommy Dyer, the rat catcher. Where’s big Eric from the boardin’ouse? I’ve got business t’do with him.”
Atty nodded urgently toward the Mersey Star. “Help me get girl inside, I tell you all about it.”
Three minutes later, Tommy Dyer was at the top of the avenue, shouting around the Dock Road, “Man in the dock! Man in the dock! Help, help!”
In a short time, several folk emerged from the fog. One of them, a constable, took charge of the situation. “Right, someone get ropes and hooks, lanterns, too. Quick as you can. Now, sir, where did the man fall in? Take us there. You stop here, sonny, show the men with the ropes which way we’ve gone. Move sharp now, the tide’s on the ebb!”
Miggy lay on the dining room counter. Atty was dabbing her knee with a solution of salt stirred into boiled water. She tried to rise, but he pushed her back, whispering instructions. “You not speak, hear nothing, see nothing. If anyone ask you, stay quiet, Miggs, let Atty do all talkin’.”
It was quite a while before anyone came into the boardinghouse. Sounds of ropes and grappling hooks splashing could be heard amid the shouts from the quay as the constable entered. He was accompanied by Tommy Dyer, two Lock Gate Keepers, an overweight washerwoman, and a well-dressed old gentleman with a carriage driver attending him. Miggy closed her eyes, feigning unconsciousness. She listened to what was going on. The constable spoke first.
“No sign or trace of a body out there, did either of you witness what happened?”
The well-dressed gentleman nodded politely to Atty. “This chap may know something. I hardly think the little girl would, though. She’s completely unconscious.”
Miggy felt like a baby as the washerwoman picked her up. “Pore liddle thing! I’ll make ’er a nice cuppa tea, with lots of sugar in it. Come on, queen, let’s get ye in a comfy armchair wid a warm shawl about yeh. Is there any vinegar an’ a clean towel round ’ere? This child’s got a nasty lump, an’ a bruise on the back of ’er skull.”
Miggy allowed herself to be treated by the kindly washerwoman as she listened to Atty Lok’s explanation. The Siamese cook sounded very believable. “I see all, everythin’, sir. Big rat, more bigger’n cat, he come up through hole in floor over there, see. Girl scream an’ run out onto quay, rat run out, too. But rat not chasin’ girl, he runnin’ away from me, I chase rat with big knife. I trip, fall down steps outside. Owner, Eric ’Grail, very brave feller, he run after big rat. Girl Miggs, she hit bollard, knock herself out in fog. I jump up, come runnin’. See Eric on edge of dock, he kick out at rat, slip. Eric fall on rat, both go over edge into water. Very sad, oh, yes. Eric fine feller, tryin’ to save girl from rat. Cobbles wet, very slippy out there in fog, not see where water is. Girl hurt, man help me bring her in here. Very sad, sir!”
The constable took it down laboriously in his notebook. Everyone stayed silent until he had finished. He looked to Tommy Dyer. “Did you see any of this, girl being knocked senseless, man and big rat both falling into the dock?”
Tommy had found the dregs in the rum bottle, so he downed them. Puffing out his narrow chest importantly, he gave what he considered was his expert opinion. “Me name’s Thomas Bernard Dyer. I’m h’employed by the Dock Board as h’official rodent controller. Ho, yes, h’officer, I’ve seen many a great big rat down ’ere, an’ dealt with ’em, too, filfy vermints. I can show ye the scars if’n ye like?”
The well-dressed old gentleman interrupted. “I’m certain the constable has better things to do than inspecting your battle wounds. Speak straight, man, did you actually witness the incident?”
The rat catcher tugged his hat brim respectfully. “No, sir, I h’arrived too late. But I knows me rats, sir. If the h’Oriental chap says that’s wot ’appened, then I’ll back ’im h’all the way. Pore Eric McGrail got word to me only a few days back, askin’ me to come round an’ h’investigate a large vermint, said it was h’infestin’ the premises. Huh, wish I’d a-come sooner. They pays me a ’andsome fee for big rats at the University Medical School. Life’s cruel, ain’t it, now I’m out o’ pocket by two shillin’s, an’ big Eric’s dead!”
The well-dressed gent took a coin from his waist-coat pocket and pressed it into Dyer’s grimy palm. “No doubt you did your duty as you saw it. I don’t think the constable need detain you further, thank you.”
Tommy Dyer took the hint and departed, tugging at his hat.
Miggy, taken upstairs by the washerwoman, was installed in her uncle Eric’s huge bed. It was so very comfortable, the stressful evening’s events soon took their toll. She fell quickly into a deep sleep. Downstairs, the policeman had Atty sign his statement of testimony. Further people arrived—more police and two Waterguards in a rowboat with dragging equipment. The search of the dock waters continued throughout the night.
It was nine o’clock of the following morn when the search for Eric McGrail was abandoned. Miggy was sitting up in bed, where Atty was serving her a fine breakfast he had cooked specially. The constable tapped on the door and entered. He removed his helmet and shuffled awkwardly. “No sign of your uncle Eric, I’m afraid, miss. They think he must have been swept out into the river, what with the lock gates being open and the strong undercurrent. The Mersey can be a treacherous river, so the Waterguards tell me. Your uncle was a brave man, miss, I’m sorry.”
As the policeman left the room, Miggy called out, “Did they find the big rat, Officer?”
He shook his head at her, and went downstairs, muttering, “Did they find the rat! Huh, kids these days, what’ll they think of next, I wonder?”
Miggy buried her face in the pillow and wept bitterly. The cook patted her shoulder gently. “Not worry about Eric anymore, Miggs, he gone for good. Always remember Sailor, though, he was brave mongoose, he save you from Eric. Sailor was true friend, just like I say.”
The Bengal Pearl returned to Liverpool in due course. She was soon cargoed up in record time and set sail once again, outward bound for India. However, the ship sailed minus Paddy McGrail, who had to stay home with his daughter and attend to family business.
The well-dressed older gentleman was a barrister. He had left his card with Atty. Paddy contacted him. There was much coming and going between the Mersey Star and his offices during the next fortnight. The old gentleman’s name was Mr. Dalzell Rice. He assured Paddy that he would expedite matters on his behalf. Miggy was puzzled by it all, but she never pestered her dad, who seemed as bewildered as herself.