Courtier in the Royal House of Stuart

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Courtier in the Royal House of Stuart Page 42

by Leslie Hatton


  While in Dublin, skipper Luke secured an extra cargo of ten tons of potatoes for Liverpool.

  Coal was in big demand in cities up and down England, and Scotland was producing more than it could use. There was definitely the business available for another Bilander working the east coast of England and Scotland. I was excited and ambitious, I wanted more and I wanted it now. But I knew I had to be patient and wait, for at least another year.

  Before the unfortunate naval war with the Dutch in the 1650s, a large amount of our coastal trade had been with other European countries across the channel. The war ended in ’54, but the outcome was inconclusive, and there still remained mistrust and tension between our two nations.

  The Dutch were once our friends… they are a pious Protestant country like ours. But at the moment they were being mischievous, threatening our trade, not only here in Europe, but throughout the world. So for the present, we would have to shelve our plans to extend the coastal fleet across the channel, and concentrate more on Ireland and Scotland which was good reliable business. In Dublin and Glasgow, we could always rely on a return cargo.

  ***

  The Tudor Queen returned from Tangier in December with a cargo of ivory, crafts and furs.

  The Rose was a month later, their Captain Gregory having sailed north from Tangier to the Portuguese city of Porto to collect a shipment of fortified wine.

  Christmas at Brocklehurst House was even better this year than last, but I still could not play an instrument as I had not the time to practise. Anne, who was due to give birth in two months’ time, was beginning to look like a ship in full sail. Robert and my sister Hannah, following their whirlwind romance, announced they planned to marry in the spring. Both families of course were delighted. My sister Eleanor and her husband now with her own daughter were there, also Peter Huxley and his wife with their two-year-old daughter. Mr and Mrs Huxley arrived at Brocklehurst House on Christmas Day, and of course Thomas and Veronica.

  In all there were fifteen of us sat round the table for Christmas dinner.

  Just as last year there followed a family musical concert, everybody in turn playing a part. My mother played her harpsichord, my father his flute and my sisters their violins… everyone was singing, dancing and enjoying themselves.

  At times like this when everybody is in a joyful mood, with a belly full of good food and perhaps having consumed a little too much alcohol; they become relaxed, and invariably make a fool of themselves.

  My father-in-law was a different man when drunk, and nothing like the man I had known and feared over many years. He became loud and raucous, but it was when he slipped and his wig fell off while dancing that his wife became angry and scolded him as one would a small child. Anne and her brother Peter were ashamed, but Robert was falling about laughing, he found the whole display hilarious.

  ***

  With their cargo holds full and safely secured, and each with a full complement of experienced sailors, the Tudor Rose and Tudor Queen moved slowly from the quayside at Deptford.

  Standing with Robert and my father I watched the lines being released and the ships ease away from the quay. It was an important moment for us all as we stood proudly watching our ships drift from the dockside and move silently into the fast-flowing currents of the River Thames, the bows facing eastward towards the North Sea.

  Captain Neville Gregory, a stout medium-sized fellow, was an imposing figure standing proudly in the stern of the Tudor Queen. He saluted as he passed us at the start of his long voyage across the ocean to the New World. His destination the trading post in New Amsterdam on the Hudson River.

  Captain Garry Watson, the master of the Tudor Rose was a tall quietly spoken man with a bushy moustache. His outward voyage was to end in Calcutta, India, at the offices of the British East India Company. On the way there, he had cargoes to deliver in the Canary Islands and Tangier.

  It was one of the coldest days of the winter as the two ships gathered speed past Greenwich and disappeared round a bend in the river.

  The two ships would sail in convoy as far as the Canary Islands and then separate. The Rose heading south along the west coast of Africa… and the Queen east across the ocean to America and the New World. With luck and fair wind they should both be home with full cargoes before the end of the year.

  While the ships were away, Robert and I would be making ourselves known at the Exchange. Writing letters, refurbishing our office at St Catherine’s, meeting as many business representatives and agents with offices in London as we could, and helping my father seek out more business for all our ships. The hardest and most worrying was going to be the waiting for the Rose and the Queen to return.

  The Breeze, meanwhile, should have been turning over a cargo every two to three months.

  I found the experience of being a part owner of a large business exciting and stimulating, but also worrying. I was concerned for the safety of the crews who were mostly family men. Apprehensive about the cargoes but also concerned for the safety of our ships.

  There is always dangers at sea, especially on the longer voyages across the ocean, but now there is the added worry of pirates… and even more so, another naval war with the Dutch.

  At the moment there was a lot of animosity between the Dutch navy and our own, with persistent minor skirmishes concerning the right to search and saluting… something I know little about, but I am told was part of an agreement called the Treaty of Westminster, signed at the end of the last war.

  Personally for me, my concern is that my wife is heavy with child, and I had promised to be by her side when she gave birth.

  As there was nothing else I could do about the ships, I hurried back to Brocklehurst House where to my surprise and horror I found the family physician’s coach parked up outside the house… the driver quite unconcerned, asleep inside his coach wrapped in a blanket to protect himself from the cold.

  Was I too late? Had she already given birth? Had she or the baby not survived, or was the doctor here for my grandfather?

  ‘Where have you been?’ shouted Hannah who met me at the door. ‘You should have been here days ago.’

  ‘Is she alright?’

  ‘Yes. But hurry, she’s convinced you’re not coming.’

  I stepped into the bedroom to find Veronica whispering comforting words to Anne, and dabbing her brow, she smiled at me and said quietly, ‘You are just in time Toby.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be in here sir… wait outside,’ ordered the doctor.

  ‘Let him stay,’ said Anne in-between cries of pain.

  Ignoring the doctor, I took hold of my wife’s hand and kissed her head.

  The midwife said, ‘One more push my dear, you’re doing fine.’

  Our son was born late in the evening of the 14th of February, 1665, St Valentine’s Day.

  We named him John in deference to my grandfather, who along with Thomas Hudson are the two men whom I respect and admire above others.

  A week had passed since baby John had arrived and the house seemed to be awash with aunties, uncles and proud grandparents. The women all cooing and talking silly, the men it seemed all staking a claim on the poor child’s birth right. None more so than granddad Pop.

  I decided it was time to return to the real world and concentrate my mind on work. I had been ignoring the business for far too long, and there was a mountain of bookwork waiting for my attention.

  Love-struck Robert was of little use at the moment and had disappeared to God knows where with Hannah.

  I could have returned to my new modern heated office at St Catherine’s in the city, but I chose instead to work from home in Pop’s office where it was quiet, and where I could be close to my family: my grandfather, Anne, and my son John.

  Right from the very first time we made love, we talked about one day having a family of our own. But it’s the woman that gives birth, an
d it’s what they spend their lives longing and yearning for. I think I am typical of most men when I say that I sort of liked the idea of being a father, but never craved or worried about it, not until it happened that is. Unless you have experienced it first-hand you could never imagine the joy and happiness a baby brings to a family, it was a whole new experience for me, and a new different kind of love, the kind you would die to protect.

  I blamed Anne’s father for delaying our marriage. But I now know he feels the same, often apologising to me personally for being such a fool in the past. He is not the strict austere father I thought he was, he loves his children equally and dotes on his grandchildren. The Huxleys now seem to spend so much time at Brocklehurst House that I am beginning to fear that they may one day move in permanently.

  In May we would both be celebrating our birthdays, but it would also be our first wedding anniversary. So I wanted to buy something special for my special wife.

  My grandfather recommended a jeweller called Edward Backwell who had a workshop on Paternoster Row, close to St Paul’s Square.

  I knew exactly what I wanted: a gold brooch in the shape of a square rigged sailing ship. It took him three weeks to make but the finished article far exceeded my expectations, and also the cost which was far more than I expected it to be.

  It was studded in sapphires, emeralds and rubies with small pearls used for the gun ports. It was the most expensive single item I had ever bought with my own money, but worth every penny.

  I also bought her a nightgown made of the finest sheer georgette silk, edged with delicate white lace… a romantic new fashion from France they called a negligee.

  Her parents were coming for her birthday on the 8th of May, so I chose to give her both presents a few days earlier on our wedding anniversary.

  On the morning, I was up early and creeped down the stairs to see cook. I wanted to arrange for her to send the presents to our bedroom with our morning coffee.

  ‘Good morning sir… my Lady, and happy anniversary,’ said Anne’s maid.

  ‘Thank you and good morning to you Molly,’ replied Anne as she stretched and yawned.

  ‘I have a special delivery for you,’ she said as she placed the coffee and my presents on the side table. She then left, shutting the door quietly behind her.

  She was like a child at Christmas, glancing at me and smiling as she unwrapped the package.

  ‘Two presents, what’s in it?’

  ‘Open the box and you will see.’

  Even I was amazed at the beauty and workmanship that Edward Blackwell had put into making the brooch and I had seen it many times before.

  ‘I love it,’ she said, ‘but it must have cost a king’s ransom.’

  ‘And you are worth every penny.’

  ‘What’s this?’ she asked picking up the negligee.

  ‘Something we can both take pleasure from. I hope you like it.’

  She began to unwrap the parcel, smiling and glancing at me out of the side of her eyes. When she realised what it was, she sat on the side of the bed and exchanged her old nightdress for the new.

  ‘I see what you mean about us both taking pleasure from this present. Do you like what you see?’ she said as she twirled around. ‘Does it meet with your approval?’

  ‘It does indeed my love, but don’t let Molly see you in that, in fact don’t let anyone but me see you in it.’

  She leaned over, kissed me on the lips and whispered, ‘I shall thank you in the usual way, so I had better take it off for now, I don’t want it to get stained on the first day.’

  Having a baby is a great joy… but as I quickly found out, they always take precedence over a husband, and at that very moment, baby John decided it was time for his feed.

  ‘No playtime for us just yet my love,’ said Anne as she lifted John out of his crib.

  The Great Plague

  When the Huxleys arrived on the 8th of May for Anne’s birthday, her father also delivered some disturbing news. ‘I’m sorry to be the conveyor of bad news Toby, but on the 4th of March, our navy attacked the Dutch settlement of New Amsterdam on the Hudson River, sinking many of their ships and damaging others. They have also changed the name to New York.’

  ‘Does my father know? And do you know where Robert is?’

  ‘It was your father who told me… and I thought Robert was here with you.’

  ‘How have the Dutch responded?’

  ‘They have declared war on England.’

  Shocked and not quite sure how to reply I sat holding my chin looking at the floor. William Huxley whom I have always believed to be a strong and forceful man remained standing as if waiting for an answer… but I couldn’t think of anything sensible to say.

  ‘It’s only his second voyage as master of the Queen, and we have sent Captain Gregory into a war zone.’

  ‘What do you suggest we do?’ asked Huxley.

  ‘There is nothing we can do only pray for their safe return, and hope Captain Gregory and his crew survive.’

  ‘He is an experienced sailor who had crossed the Atlantic many times.’

  ‘I am sure he has. But I doubt he has ever sailed blindly into a war zone before.’

  ‘It is a good thing that you replaced the missing cannons. At least Gregory will have a fighting chance if he comes under attack.’

  That was true, but it was of little comfort to me. And from that day I personally questioned the masters of every ship returning from America or the Caribbean. They were all mindful of what had happened, but not a single ship’s master remembered hearing anything about the Tudor Queen.

  There were many reports of skirmishes off the coast of America… of ships being damaged and others being destroyed, but not one sighting of our ship.

  Clashes in the channel, around our coast and on the continent were becoming more frequent. Our greatest success thus far being off the coast of Lowestoft in June, when on one of the hottest days of the year we had a great victory over the Dutch. One returning captain reporting that we had killed or taken prisoner thousands of men and lost no more than a few hundred.

  And as if things were not bad enough, the plague which had been killing thousands of people on the continent, arrived here in London. The first reported case being in Drury Lane in the east end, then in Fenchurch Street and five more in Westminster.

  On a cold clear night last winter, a bright comet was to be seen in the sky over London… at the time, people were saying that it was an omen of evil, and now they were saying that it was predicting the coming of the plague. If it really was an omen of evil, then I believed it could just as easily have been a warning of death on the high seas. So I quickly put all that nonsense out of my head… I had much more important things to worry about, primarily my own family here in the city. My parents now living in Westminster, and my grandmother Veronica in Fleet Alley with George and her girls.

  Robert, who had been missing for a couple of weeks, turned up at Brocklehurst House with Hannah. They had been taking a sabbatical with some of our relatives in Hastings.

  Robert’s father reprimanded him, embarrassing him in front of Hannah, who had already been scolded by our mother.

  I thought it irresponsible of him not to let me know of his plans. It also confirmed to me that he was not yet responsible enough to work on his own. So I chose, for now, to keep my thoughts to myself and concentrate more on my family in the city.

  Travelling by horse, I went first to our office on Fleet Street and found it locked and deserted. I doubled back to my parents’ apartment on King Street, Westminster, where I was met at the door by the housekeeper.

  ‘They are in the drawing room sir,’ he said.

  I found my mother and father prepared to leave, packing clothes and valuables into trunks and covering the furniture.

  My mother hugged and kissed me, it was clear by the rednes
s in her eyes and the lines on her face that she had been crying.

  ‘You shouldn’t be here in the city Toby,’ she said, ‘there’s more and more people every day falling ill with this dreadful disease they call the plague.’

  ‘What about my Veronica?’

  ‘I called to see her a week ago. I pleaded with her to come to Richmond with us but she wouldn’t leave George and the girls, she said they were all well and were staying indoors until the sickness passed.’

  ‘What about the office on Fleet Street and the staff there?’

  ‘I was going to tell you when we got to Richmond,’ said my father. ‘I have hired rooms on the other side of the river in Lewisham. As far as I know there have been no cases reported that far south.’

  ‘If there’s nothing I can do for you… I think I will leave my horse here and take a carriage to see Veronica.’

  ‘You won’t get a carriage Toby,’ said my father, ‘there’s none to be had anywhere in the city. People who have the resources are deserting in droves. You had better take our coach.’

  ‘Thank you, I will return it as quickly as I can.’

  ‘There’s no hurry, the Huxleys are coming to collect us. We are going to spend a few days with them in Lewes. But do bring it back when you can in case the housekeeper needs it.’

  The streets were almost empty and I was able to reach Fleet Alley in double quick time, but when I arrived at Veronica’s Whorehouse, I believed; for just a moment, that my heart had stopped beating. Words cannot describe the shock at seeing the dreaded Red Cross on the door. I tried to go in but it was locked so I banged, and kept banging until I heard Veronica’s voice.

  ‘You can’t come in my love. Go home and forget about us.’

  ‘I am going nowhere, let me in,’ I called.

 

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