Dismissing those thoughts from my mind I now had to start thinking positively… I was on my own again and had to find a way to release the bondage from my hands, and at least make an effort to defend myself, however impossible that task may appear, because if the older man was true to his word I had less than an hour to live.
Fortunately, my hands were now tied at the front which should make freeing myself a little easier; I felt for my dagger but it was gone along with its sheath. I then remembered the shells I had collected and wondered if they were sharp enough to cut through rope, somehow I managed to recover them from my pocket but they were a poor substitute for a knife so I abandoned that idea, and decided to try to stand and hop over to the corner where I had seen the mallet. I was now in complete darkness but could remember exactly where to find the tools.
I easily found the work bench and then rubbing my hands carefully along, I came to a vice and a large chest with a hinged lid, the chest contained a collection of tools which I was able to remove one at a time, stopping briefly when I found a large chisel which I thought might serve my purpose, but then I found a saw.
By sitting on the bottom step of the stairs and holding the saw between my knees, I found it easy, even in complete darkness, to cut through the ropes binding my hands. I then untied my feet and in less than five minutes I was free of my bonds.
While freeing myself I was formulating in my mind a plan that by the grace of God might just work, and perhaps I could then turn the tables on my jailer. But the plan was so full of inconsistencies, variances and anomalies that the chances of success I thought were about zero. Nonetheless, I would rather die like a man with a weapon in my hand, than sit waiting for my executioner to come and carry out his cowardly work. I had no option, I had to try.
Firstly I had to find some rope which I thought I had seen by the side of the lobster pots on the other side of the room… moving carefully across the deck I found the rope but not before getting my feet tangled up in some netting which took me precious minutes to untangle.
I threaded the rope under the handrail and laid it across the fourth step from the top, securing one end to a ceiling beam. The rest was coiled up on the end of the bench, where I intended to be waiting in ambush.
I then spread one of the nets across the floor opposite the stairs, raising it at one end in the hope that whoever came down the ladder would trip and get tangled up long enough for me to make good my escape. Or if that failed, and I could think of one other option, to strike him over the head with a heavy weapon… a weapon I had yet to find.
I was feeling around the deck for the grappling iron the boy had thrown down, but found something even better, a two foot long crowbar.
So now I was ready and settled down to wait. The whole exercise having taken less than half an hour.
The plan was to trip up the old man as he took his fourth step on the stairs, hopefully he would tumble down to the bottom and get entangled in the netting. Then before he had time to recover, hit him with the crowbar and race up the stairs. Beyond that, I had no idea, it all sounded so simple until I realised I still had to get past the two sons and to swim ashore, but I had no idea how far that would be, or if there was even a shore to swim to.
I wrapped the end of the rope around my wrists and settled down to wait and to think.
What would I do if all three men came for me together? My plan could only work if the old man came on his own. I was in despair and the more I thought about my plan, the more senseless it seemed.
I have never been a violent person, always avoiding confrontation, and knew I had no realistic hope of escape, but I had to try.
My thoughts once again drifted to Veronica and of Anne. Then my body went stiff as I heard footsteps on the deck above, they were the steps of just one person, a heavy person. The steps of a man.
I was trembling as I heard the bolt on the trapdoor slide back, the door was raised and dropped onto the deck. He hesitated for a moment, and then carrying a lantern in one hand, came down the steps… when he reached the third step from the top I pulled the rope tight. He tried to grab hold of the handrail but missed, he then came tumbling down banging his head on the door frame. The lantern left his hand and flew across the room, smashing on impact with the floor, and sending flames onto the nets which immediately caught fire.
The old man stunned by the bang on the head sailed through the air landing head first onto one of the logs.
I heard his skull crack and saw the blood flowing freely into a pool on the floor, I was not sure he was dead but if he was not… he was certainly no longer a threat to me.
The flames were taking hold of the fishing nets, and also the dry sacking. For no logical reason, I grabbed the man’s legs and pulled him away from the flames. It was then that I saw the purse of money. It must have fallen from his hand, so I picked it up and dropped it into the pocket of my jacket.
I took one more look around and then turned to run.
***
It was dark, and Thomas was getting worried.
‘Toby told me he would be back before nightfall. Something must have happened to him. I’m going to send out search parties,’ he said to Charles.
‘Anything I can do?’
‘I would like as many men out there as possible asking questions, I want every boat… large and small to be searched, including our own ships, and it would help if you could mobilise your guards.’
‘I’ll do it right away,’ he said as he left the room.
It was a still night with hardly a breath of wind, the temperature was warmer here in the Channel Islands than at home in England, but still too cold to be out without a coat. It was a dark night with busy clouds seemingly determined to steal what little light they could from the moon, just when it was most needed. It was only when there was a break in the clouds that the night sky was illuminated.
Prince Charles and Thomas soon had over a hundred officers and men looking for me and just as many locals also concerned for my welfare.
Numerous sightings were reported, mostly of me walking along the beach but also a few who had seen me sitting talking to one of the fisherman. There was also most bizarrely, one person who claimed he saw me on horseback, heading for a place called Bouley Bay.
***
I hoped the old man was not dead, though I was fairly sure he was. However, I had no time for recriminations or doubts about my motives. So far my plan had worked out better than I could have hoped, but that was only the start, I had no time to worry about him or his family, it was now all about me and my self-preservation.
The flames were moving outward and upward and it was time for me to make a dash for freedom. I turned to run up the stairs, still with the crowbar in my hand, and found myself facing the man who had tricked me onto the boat in the first place.
There was hatred in his eyes, and it was obvious he thought I had used my weapon on his father, he also realised that I was quite prepared to use it again on him if need be.
He was faced with three choices, attack me, attend to his father, or attempt to extinguish the fire, a fire that was already licking the roof timbers.
He looked past me then came down the steps in two strides. Jumping over the body of his father he tried to stamp out the flames while at the same time tear down the burning nets, leaving me free to run up the stairs and onto the open deck.
The woman who had given me food and water was standing a few paces away in the arms of her youngest son, it looked to me as if they had both been crying.
‘Can you swim?’ he called.
Realising he had no intention of attacking me. I threw down the crowbar and said, ‘Yes I can.’
He pointed to his right where in the distance I could see lights.
‘That’s Brelade’s Bay.’
I stepped over the side rail and glanced back. ‘It’s about two miles from here I thi
nk,’ he said.
‘Good luck,’ his mother called.
I realised then that what I had done so far was the easy part, swimming probably ten times further than I had ever done in my life before, in cold water and fully clothed, was surely going to be too big a challenge for me, but I had no option, I had to try.
I jumped over the side and was shocked by just how cold the water was. I realised then that before swimming anywhere I would have to remove my jacket and boots. I made my way to the rudder where I was able to rest and take stock.
I hesitated for a moment, and then I remembered the purse of money was still in my jacket pocket, it was heavy and I wondered if I should keep it or forget it and let it drop to the bottom of the ocean with my boots and jacket. Not sure if I was doing the right thing or not, I tied the purse to my belt and tucked it inside my breeches. I then let my jacket and boots sink out of sight, lost forever beneath the waves… while at the same time thinking to myself how foolish and greedy I was to keep the extra weight which could possibly make the difference between life and death.
The flickering lights looked more than two miles away but if I was to survive I had no choice but to strike out in that direction… to hope I was strong enough, and to put my trust in God. Fortunately, the sea was not too rough with just the occasional ripple hampering what in different circumstances might have been thought of as good water for swimming in.
The land on my right was much closer than the way I was told to swim, but I could make out white water breaking over rocks so the boy was right, I had to attempt the longer swim straight ahead towards the beach.
I think I must have been swimming for over an hour, my progress was slow and I thought I had hardly moved at all… perhaps I was swimming against the tide… if that was the case I was destined to fail, but then I realised the water was calmer, so surely I must be further into the bay which gave me fresh hope.
The salt water was causing my swollen eye to smart, but I realised it was probably doing me good, so I lumbered on at a snail’s pace getting more exhausted with every stroke. I decided to rest by swimming on my back, it was then that I saw that the fishing boat was now completely engulfed in flames.
Swimming on my back was not helping, it just made me feel colder, so I turned over and continued as before, swallowing more water and getting weaker with every stroke.
I heard a splash to my left and when I glanced in that direction I could just make out a rowing boat with a woman in the stern and two men rowing. I was pleased they were all alive as the fire was now completely out of control, the flames lighting up the night sky.
I was glad that they had all escaped unharmed but I didn’t want them to see me so I altered my direction slightly to the right and carried on and on swimming as before.
Eventually I accepted that I could swim no more, I was completely spent. I had done my best but this was surely the end, I was lightheaded and seeing bright lights, I was losing consciousness and my head was constantly sinking below the water. I knew I was drowning but somehow it didn’t seem to matter anymore.
I wasn’t sure at the time if it was just a dream when I felt my feet touch the sandy bottom, but when I tried, I was able to stand with my head above water… water that was only four feet deep. I looked forward with my good eye and I could just make out waves breaking over a sandy beach.
I don’t remember walking out of the sea but I must have done because I was found unconscious and face down at the water’s edge in Brelade’s Bay.
When I woke I was in a four poster bed with clean white sheets wearing only a long nightshirt.
A lady in her fifties dressed in fine clothes was sat in the chair by my bed, she smiled and touched my hand.
‘You have had a good long sleep my dear,’ she said, ‘but what you need now is a hot meal. When you are ready, there is some broth waiting for you in the dining room. Your clothes have been washed and ironed, Milly has just gone to fetch them for you.’
Just as the lady was about to leave, a very pretty young woman with long dark hair, wearing a black dress and white pinafore, came into the room with my clothes.
‘Thank you my Lady,’ I called after her. She smiled and shut the door behind her.
The young woman placed my clothes in a neat pile next to the bed.
‘My name is Milly, I work for Lady Bramwell, but I am also her companion.’
‘Where am I Milly?’
‘You’re in Bramwell House at St Brelade,’ she said as she drew back the drapes, ‘this is Lady Bramwell’s home and I believe you are Master Toby.’
‘I am? But how do you know my name, and how did I get here?’
‘Last evening I woke my mistress when I saw a fire on a fishing boat. Concerned that there might be survivors needing help, she sent Philip and me to search. We found you unconscious on the beach and brought you here. My Lady guessed that you must have come to the island with Prince Charles, and when we enquired, we found that they were looking for a missing eleven-year-old boy. Philip went immediately to St Helier to inform the prince that we had found you and that you were safe and well here with us.’
‘They know I am here?’
‘The prince and a gentleman by the name of Hudson are in the drawing room waiting for you.’
‘Who is Philip?’
‘Philip is my mistress’s nephew, he came from France to look after her when her husband died four years ago.’
‘Is Philip French then?’
‘He is,’ she said smiling at me. ‘He is also my fiancé. Now I will leave you to get dressed.’
I leapt out of the bed and dressed as quickly as I could and then found my way to the drawing room where Thomas was waiting.
Thomas had become like a father to me, he was my mentor, my councillor and my tutor, but nonetheless I was surprised when he wrapped his arms round me and hugged me tightly, we have always been close but this was the first time I felt a genuine feeling of warmth and love coming from a man who was always so structured and in control.
‘I made a promise to Veronica to protect you with my life and I failed… how could I ever have faced her again if you had died?’
‘It was my own stupid fault, I was tricked onto the fishing boat. You are not to blame Thomas.’
‘You can tell me the whole story later. But what can you tell me about this?’ he said as he dropped the money purse on the table.
‘That was the 30 pieces of silver my kidnapper was paid to feed me to the fishes… his words, not mine. I don’t know how much there is, but I think it must be considerable.’
‘And how did you come by it?’
‘It fell from his pocket when he fell down some stairs.’
‘When was the last time you had money of your own?’
‘It’s not mine.’
‘Do you want it?’
‘I have never had money of my own. If I need money I ask you, and you usually give it to me… except when I wanted my own pony at St James’s Palace and you said I had to borrow one from the stables.’
‘Well you had better keep this then,’ he said handing me the purse. ‘Try to spend it wisely… and if we ever get back to St James’s Palace I promise I will buy you the horse of your choice out of my own purse.’
‘You do know you said that in front of witnesses.’
He laughed and Prince Charles who I hadn’t noticed sitting quietly in the background… laughed out loud, Lady Bramwell just smiled.
‘Go and eat your broth young man,’ she said. ‘It’s in the dining room, Milly will take you.’
I followed Milly to the dining room where I met Philip for the first time. I judged him to be about twenty-two years old and almost six foot tall.
‘I believe I have you to thank for finding me on the beach Philip.’
‘And for carrying you back here to Bramwell House,’ said Milly as
she took hold of his hand.
‘I was happy to be of assistance. I am also glad to see that the swelling around your eye has gone down a little, I guess the cold water helped.’
Milly paced a steaming hot bowl of broth and some fresh bread in front of me, the smell was wonderful and it made me realise just how hungry I was.
‘Milly tells me you are from France. I am trying to learn your language but I don’t think I am doing too well.’
‘Then I will teach you,’ he said. ‘The best way to learn any foreign language is to speak it all the time, even if it is just the odd word. So when we next meet you must speak French to me, if you don’t I will ignore you, and in answer to your question, yes I am from France. I came here to look after my great-aunt almost four years ago from Cherbourg, but then Milly stole my heart,’ he said as he kissed her on the cheek.
‘Then I must caution you about my Lord Prince Charles. He has an appalling reputation where the fair sex is concerned.’
‘His reputation precedes him Toby, and you can rest assured that this is one lady who will never be one of his courtesans.’
***
Lady Bramwell thought I should rest after my ordeal, and insisted I stay at least one more night at Bramwell House.
Thomas, still believing it was all his fault, did not want to leave me on my own, and agreed only if he could stay with me.
The following morning before leaving for St Helier, we ate a breakfast of cheese, ham and freshly baked bread with Lady Bramwell.
‘Please come and visit us again Toby, you know you will always be welcome.’
I wanted to express my thanks to her, but just saying thank you somehow did not seem enough… should I shake her hand or kiss her? I didn’t know what to do… so I did both.
Philip brought Lady Bramwell’s carriage to the front door, but before I climbed in next to Thomas I took hold of her hands and kissed her again on both cheeks.
‘I promise I will not leave the island without saying goodbye my Lady.’
Courtier in the Royal House of Stuart Page 9