Chapter 1
William saw no
reason to drag Amelia back to London when word came that his presence was
requested and required by the Lords of the Admiralty, so he took himself to
‘Crown’ Inn to await the coach for the ‘Spreadeagle’. William decided to lay at the inn overnight
to be roused by its staff for the early start.
He wanted all his wits about him if the admiralty wanted to brief him in
person on his mission rather than merely send written orders. Doubtless it was
the sort of mission an expendable but unconventional officer might be sent on,
but William had no intention of being talked into agreeing to anything without
listening to every word carefully.
“Just in from
London, sir?” asked the ale draper, as William settled in the bar for a pint
after dinner.
“No, the
reverse; looking for a coach to set a Nor’Easterly course, to set sail on the
ebb tomorrow first thing,” said William, humorously.
The tapster
laughed and drew William his pint.
A rough
looking man came over to William and sat down beside him.
“Clever words,
them,” he said.
William
regarded him with disfavour.
“Just a
passing jest, nothing clever,” he said, coolly.
“Don’t be so
sniffy, mate, you ain’t got no cause,” said the man. “It’ll be on your bed.”
And then he
had moved away again, leaving William blinking in confusion.
“What an odd
fellow,” said William to himself.
William had
taken a single room, and when he went up, there was a packet on his bed, sealed
with an ornate seal.
“I dunno what
vat’s abaht, but some sneakin’ little feller come in an’ left it,” said
Walden. “’E didn’t see me, and I weren’t
abaht ter show meself.” William had asked Walden to come to London with him as
his man rather than his Coxwain, Dempsey, as Walden knew every trick in the
book.
“Yes, I had an
odd encounter in the bar,” said William.
“I suppose it’s too much to ask that you can charm off a seal and put it
back as neatly as Adam Peacock?”
“Wodjer tike
me for, a fule?” said Walden, indignantly. “I can do it a sight more neatly
than Adam can, fancy fevver work o’ his or no.”
William hid a
smile. Adam Peacock was well known for
turning feathers into beautiful flowers, or miniature furniture to delight the
younger daughters of the sailors, as
well as covering boxes cut from packing cases with beautiful patterns,
varnished into place.
“Well, I will
leave it to you, then, and will watch to see how it is done,” said William.
Mollified,
Walden heated his pocket knife in the flame of the candle.
“’Ave ye got a
kerchee I can wipe it on?” he asked.
With a
muttered apology to Amelia for so misusing the fine linen she insisted on him
using, William handed his handkerchief to Walden. The sailor skilfully wiped
the soot from the blade with a nod of approval over how the fine linen removed
it swiftly and cleanly. It was a matter of boldness; being tentative would
never work.
He slid the
knife under the seal and it lifted clear away, and passed the papers inside to
William.
Inside there
was a list of names which looked to be ship names, dates, and against some the
name of a man.
“Most
curious,” said William. “And whatever it
is, it is decidedly clandestine.”
“Packet
boats? Mails?” suggested Walden.
“‘Tom and
Nancy’; ‘Philip’s Fancy’; ‘Skimmer’; if it ain’t packets or mails, it almost
has to be race horses,” said William.
“And as horses don’t run by the ebb on particular dates, I would say you
are probably correct. What it means, however, I can’t guess.”
“Why don’t you
make a copy, sir, and I’ll see if I can catch the mailcoach to send it on to
Sir William Wickham?” suggested Walden. “Leaves at eight it does, if we shift I
should get it orf ready for ‘is nibs ter spile ‘is breakfast wiv it.”
“I had been
going to take it to him, but yes, a better idea,” said William, getting out the
beautiful writing slope he had purchased.
It meant he had with him better quality paper than was generally found
in inns, and his own steel-pointed pen and good quality ink for fast, accurate
writing.
“I’m almost
tempted to copy out the original slightly wrongly to carry on until someone
demands it,” he said, regretfully, “But I cannot copy handwriting and it might
alert someone to my substitution. There,
I am done; if you will reseal it, I will write a covering letter to Sir William
whilst you do so.”
Walden
grinned. He worked his magic with the hot knife, holding it under the paper to
re-seal the wax, as William wrote.
“Dear Sir William,
I was accosted in the bar of the ‘Crown’ in
Portsmouth by a fellow who seemed inordinately interested in a feeble joke I
made about setting a course north-east to London on the morning ebb tide, and
he left a sealed package on my bed. Please find enclosed a copy of what was
written, which I found most strange.
It is probably nothing, in which case I
apologise for wasting your time, but in case it is something of interest, I
felt I should let you have it soonest, and Jeb Walden suggested the Royal Mail.
In haste,
Wm Price.”
Walden took
the letter and slithered off like an eel out of a trap. He was back within a
few minutes with a pleased grin.
“Caught the
mail, and she’s gorn, sir, so not hardly likely to be stopped,” he said.
That was true
enough; the mail was heavily guarded.
“And now we
need to be sure not to be assaulted in our beds when whoever sent it realises
that it has been given to the wrong person,” said William.
Walden
scratched his nose.
“Well, it so
‘appens that there’s a swell cove, name
o’ Withimere, which if I recall was the name o’ the viscounty o’ the pa o’ our
Mr. Perceval,” said Walden. “Carryin’ on somethin’ awful about not havin’ the
best room, that bein’ this one.”
“Jeb, I have
no intention of permitting the Viscount of Withimere to be murdered in his bed
in mistake for me,” said William.
“Oh, ‘E won’t
be,” said Walden. “’E ‘as ‘arf an army
o’servants to sleep by ‘is door and whatnot, an’ ‘is own linen. I sent a boy wiv a message to the ‘Thetis’
for Mr. Perceval to lay low. ‘E weren’t
stupid enough to say what ship ‘e was on when ‘e wrote. So we’re packin’ an’
movin’ account o’ how I told the viscount I might persuade my orficer to do so, makin’
like I was askin’ for a vail, see, so ‘e’ll be ‘ere ‘narf a minnit.”
“Damn your
eyes, Jeb,” said William. “I hope he vailed you well.”
“Dropped me
two guineas,” said Jeb, shamelessly.
It was less
comfortable to be sharing a room with two other naval officers, but less
uncomfortable, William suspected, than being assaulted in his bed. Walden made up a bed on the floor with the
cheerful insouciance of a man who can sleep standing up if need be.
The other
officers were also lieutenants, but they deferred to a man with the single
epaulet of a master and commander.
William was secretly amused, since both were older than he was, and
possibly had more seniority. But then,
command was never about mere seniority, it was about Interest, and though
well-connected relatives were a part of what constituted Interest, so was
having your name in the Gazette, or
impressing someone. Or being sufficiently apparently reckless to be considered
both expendable, and willing to take on impossible tasks.
“Hoping for a
new command, sir?” asked one. “George Ebden.”
“I have a
command, but I’m off to London to be given orders,” said William.
“What ship?”
asked the other. “I’m Tallis Beckham; I
suppose you have all your lieutenants?”
“Yes, I’m
sorry, I do,” said William. “‘Thetis’ only gets two lieutenants in any case.”
George Ebden
whistled.
“That pretty
schooner?” he said. “So that makes you
Mr. Price, who took her from pirates?”
“Goodness, is
the tale so well-known?” asked William, taken aback.
“Oh, you’re
the darling of all the ladies, hadn’t you noticed?” said Beckham. “You’ve not
been to any of the assemblies here?”
“I’m content
to be the darling of my wife,” said William.
“And I’m going to sleep; I don’t mind talking in the coach to while away
the journey, but I’m as grumpy as a midshipman in the mornings if I don’t get
my sleep.”
There was a
disturbance in the night, and a lot of shouting, and William devoutly hoped
that the howls of anguish came from anyone trying to steal a packet rather than
from the viscount. Jeb was not going to
be popular with the viscount if ever that worthy found out that not only had
Jeb kidnapped his son, mistaking him for a rich man’s carpenter, but had also
set him up for this nocturnal disturbance.
William
shrugged and went back to sleep. There was not a lot else he could do.
Eating bacon
and eggs at four thirty, William did ask the sleepy girl who served him,
“What was all
that noise in the night?”
“Oh, some
thief or other tried to roll milord the viscount,” said the girl. “Only fancy,
the brazen cheek of it! Well his man
threw one of them out of the window, and the other is locked up in the cellar
waiting for the watch to take him away.”
“Good
gracious!” said William. “I hope that doesn’t happen often.”
“First time I
ever knew of it,” said the girl. “And thank you kindly, sir,” as she pocketed a
groat. “Reckon they was drunk.” She
moved on, pleased with a small vail, but it was not so large as to be
memorable. William mostly vailed her as a sop to his conscience over the
disturbed night of the unfortunate viscount. Doubtless that worthy would take
it out on the staff in the inn. He finished
his breakfast, used the necessary offices, and found himself in good time to
board the coach. Walden was riding
outside with a couple of midshipmen and someone who looked to William to be a
ship chandler; he shared the inside with Ebden and Beckham, and a widow of
about thirty years old who looked quite broken. By common consent, the men gave
the widow as much room to herself as possible. In all likelihood she was the
relict of some other officer, and due respect.
“Let us know
if there is anything we can do to help, ma’am,” William said, politely. Her
eyes filled with tears.
“So kind,” she
said. “I’m going to be with my married
sister. I can be the unpaid governess, to pay my way, and I do not regret
marrying my Thomas, even if the sea isn’t any great living.”
“Oh dear, did
your sister marry for money and her jealousy of your love makes her rub it in?”
said William, and then wondered if he should have stayed silent, for she was
staring at him.
“Oh!” she
said. “Jealous! Why ... it had not occurred to me, but you know, I think you
might be correct. I think Joshua has
mistresses, and Eliza has always been sharp tongued to cover regrets. Thank you, sir; I was dreading it, but now I
will manage with fortitude, knowing that I have been happy, even if for such a
short time.”
“And you can
subvert all her sons to want to go to sea,” said William, his unruly tongue
misbehaving again.
She managed a
slightly hysterical giggle.
“Now that
would be unkind, but I will tell them tales of their uncle,” she said. “Thank you. I prayed for strength, and my
prayers have been answered by your kindness, Captain?”
“Price,
ma’am.”
She
nodded.
Her whole
demeanour had changed, with a firmness of purpose.
“I will live,
and keep Thomas’s memory alive,” she said.
William
wondered how often a few words could make a difference to other people, one way
or another. Colin’s words about Mr.
Stackfield had won him an excellent schoolmaster, rather than seeing a man
hanged for thoughtlessness. His irritable words to the erstwhile midshipman,
Cornelius Coare, had seen that youth resigning his warrant, to enter university
under his own recognisances, and not at the behest of his father, having a
legacy from an uncle which permitted it.
How many lives
might a man change, just for a few words?
William was
still pondering this when he was startled out of his reverie by the sound of a
shot, and the coach pulled to a halt.
