Sailing Orders

by David O'Neil

  Waterford was a major harbor and industrial city, though from the harbor there was little sign of it. The quays were busy, but no more so than at any of many ports on the English coast. They tied up and Peters created a meal for all three of them. Contemplating Peters skills as a cook, Martin smiled to himself, Peters had been on Martin’s first ship a countryman pressed into the navy. Peters had always been grateful for Martin’s help, in writing to find out if his mother was safe and well. He had been serving with Martin ever since, Peters was rated bosun on his last ship, he like Giles had volunteered to accompany Martin on this mission.

  Martin was pleased that Giles was here. Mr. Smith had been adamant that Martin should travel to Ireland with someone to watch his back. Alouette was well skilled in survival, but Smith insisted that their companion be someone who could not only look after himself but the others also.

  In his travels in the far-east Giles had made a reputation for his quick thinking and skill with arms. The fact, that he was present when Mr. Smith called Martin to the Foreign Office, gave him the incentive to pull him into the plan for the excursion to Ireland.

  Giles was delighted. His projected posting was as liaison with the army in the peninsular. Smith was able to promise him a ship on the completion of the task. For Martin, his ship would continue under the temporary command of Lieutenant, acting Commander, Reed. Martin would lose Reed when he returned to his ship. Reed would be given a command of his own. The Navy was expanding with the presence of Napoleon still conducting affairs in Europe.

  Alouette appeared pale-faced but determined, and took her place at the table in the saloon of the ketch. Peters had prepared haddock fresh caught from fishermen on their way into the port. He had poached it delicately with herbs especially for the lady, who had eaten little since they had departed Milford Haven in Wales, two days ago. They were served by Alouette’s servant/companion, Margaret.

  Alouette thanked Peters for his thoughtfulness very graciously and thus added him to the ever lengthening list of her admirers.

  Between them they agreed to stroll into the city, Martin and Alouette, with Giles acting as their servant/protection, in plain clothes of course to maintain as low a profile as possible. They were on holiday, and seeking crystal for their new home. They left the boat in the charge of Hill, Giles servant, and Margaret. Peters drifted along in the background. Just in case.

  As they walked Alouette leaned on Martin, still a little weak after the voyage. She whispered so the Giles walking behind could not hear. “Martin, my dear, it has been a long time since we last enjoyed each other’s company. It is a shame that Giles is your uncle. This could have been a joyous occasion for us both.”

  Martin whispered back, “Alouette, I am a respectable married man only just separated from my beloved wife. How could you suggest such a thing?”

  Alouette giggled and said, “Am I no longer attractive to you then?” The artful catch in her voice made him immediately deny her suggestion, causing them both to laugh, he, as he realized she was gulling him, and she, because she had caught him out.

  “Perhaps I should enquire of Giles if he would be interested?” Alouette whispered. Martin thought for a second or two then said, “Please do not. I fear he would be only too willing and that would make me jealous.” He turned to her gravely.

  She turned to him and smiled. “You know me too well, my dear. When you are near there are no others. In choosing my career I elected to follow a lonely life. You are an indulgence I cannot afford, yet I cannot deny.” The warmth of her smile covered the sadness in her eyes. She hugged Martin’s arm close as they made their way into the lights and sounds of the main street.

  They sought and eventually found what they were looking for. The shop window glittered from the refracted light of the lamps that lighting the crystal displayed there.

  The sign over the door suggested that John FitzGerald was a purveyor of glass and crystal to the nobility. Martin and Alouette entered the shop and started looking at the display.

  There were two other customers in the shop, both on a similar mission apparently. “I am sure this would be the best piece,” the woman said.

  The man grunted and picked up an ugly vase, “Why not this?” He said.

  “That is disgusting. The woman will think we don’t like her.”

  “Well nor do we, so why not?” The man persisted.

  “We may, or may not, like her.” The woman looked at Martin and Alouette, decided they were not acquaintances, and continued, “By giving her something like that she will know that we don’t like her. After all, she is the children’s godmother.”

  With the matter resolved they shortly left the shop. The assistant approached Martin and Alouette to offer his services.

  The man was tall, perhaps just short of Martin’s height, with white hair over a rather youthful face. He smiled as he asked, “Sir, Madam? Can I be of assistance?” The accent was soft Irish, the voice warm and friendly.

  Alouette said, “We were hoping to meet with Mr. FitzGerald?”

  The white-haired man said, “He is only here during the lunch hour, perhaps you would like to see the private collection.” The codes exchanged, the man went to the door and nodded to Giles who entered and stood waiting, while the man closed the door and locked it, turning the open sign to the side reading closed. He then snuffed the lights in the windows out, and drew the blinds. “My name is William Penney,” he said quietly. “I was notified you were coming yesterday?”

  Martin said, “What man proposes, the tide disposes.”

  The final confirmation of their identity established, William led the trio through the door at the rear of the showroom.

  “Stop!” He said as he closed the door. There was a click as he opened the closed panel of a lamp and light exploded throughout the room, reflecting off silver and glass, crystal and mirrors.

  All three visitors gasped. The room was about twenty foot long, the walls hung with mirrors of various shapes and sizes. A central table was arrayed with glass and crystal ware. At the near end was a table laid with bread and cutlery. Several chairs were around the table. As they stood taking in the scene, a round rosy face appeared through a door to the rear. “Should I bring the soup now?” The rich Irish accent sounded as warm as undoubtedly the proffered soup.

  “Please, sit and eat. I will never hear the end of it if you don’t.”

  The rosy face disappeared and, as they seated themselves, the woman appeared bearing a tureen that steamed as she placed it on the table mat next to the ladle already on the table. Disappearing once more, she returned with a plate piled with chunks of bread that were warm to the touch.

  The Irish lady bade them eat, and seated herself next to William facing the three visitors. “And who will you be?” She said looking at them keenly.

  Alouette answered for all three. “I am Alouette, and my companions are Martin and Giles. We sailed in today from Wales.”

  The Irish lady said, “I am FitzGerald. This is my brother, William. Eat and we will talk afterwards.”

  The soup was as good as it smelled, and the people ate the warm bread with gusto.

  Afterwards William cleared the table and fetched hot toddy.

  FitzGerald started talking. “You obviously gave the correct identification so we will dispense with the formalities. Call me Fitz. My husband was a career soldier in the British Army. A rifleman, he served in the Americas, mainly in the woods where he made friends with the Iroquois Indians. He returned here and was murdered by the rebels in ’98. His murderers killed him because he had been a soldier, though here he was a simple tradesman. He had opened this shop with the monies he had saved over twenty years of service.” She paused looking sad, “We had seven years between us, before he was ambushed and murdered by the Fenians.” She paused. “I am Irish, and proud of it. I believe in a free Ireland, but there are ways of doing things. That means I am a sworn enemy of the extremists like my husband’s murderers and, by the way, Napoleon’s Frenc
h. So I will co-operate with you and give you information about both. But I will not betray my country! Understood?”

  Alouette said quietly, “Of course. I am French and my situation was similar to yours. My husband is now long dead and my country suffers under the gun. but I hope, one day, to return and live in peace and freedom.”

  Fitz looked up in surprise, then nodded, and looked at Martin eyebrow raised.

  Martin smiled faintly and began. “We are here to check and confirm that the attempt to reinforce the Fenians with elements of the Irish Regiment from the French army has failed. We were assured that the French withdrew, but we are not completely sure. If any are still here, we could have an ongoing situation at our backs, while the war in Europe is facing us.”

  Fitz asked, “Are you here to take action, or just to report?”

  “It depends on what we find, and of course, our abilities. If there is no problem, we visit and enjoy a holiday. If there is a problem, we will see at the time.”

  Fitz looked at the three people in front of her. Then she looked at William. “Tell them what you stumbled across.”

  William leaned back in his chair and started to speak, “I thought….”

  Fitz said sharply. “Tell them!”

  William started to speak hesitantly. “I was riding in the countryside north of the river. I have a place that I rent out to a market gardener. He keeps my horses there as part of the rental. I was over there exercizing the mare and realized that there was a lot of activity on the next door farmland. It was dusk, and I was walking the horse over the wet leaves from the trees of the copse. I could just see people in the field beyond the trees. I realized that they were training with muskets. There must have been twenty men at least. There was a man in uniform with them who had a Tricolor around his waist. I was able to see another had a shako on his head.

  “I got out of there in a hurry and, when I got back to the stable, spoke to my tenant. He was wary but I pushed him. He confirmed that he had been told not to go that way in the evenings. He realized that they were Fenians training, though he had not seen Frenchmen there. His family and children had been threatened if he said anything to the constable. He had made it clear that there was no way he would speak to the constable, since he realized that the constable was a member of the Fenians.” He paused. “I was not sure of this, though we had suspected that it was true. Since then we have confirmed it.”

  Fitz took up the story. “We started to trawl the area for information and found out that the local rebels have been threatening people, extorting money and punishing people for being who they were. They were the same people who had murdered my husband.”

  She stood and walked over to the centre table. Reaching under the table top she withdrew an envelope. Returning to the table she passed it to Alouette.

  Looking through the contents, Alouette passed the sheets to Martin, who looked at the names listed. “Are these known members of the Fenians?”

  “All members or collaborators with the rebels, and most carry arms wherever they go. I have no doubts that among them are the men who murdered my Billy.”

  Martin replaced the lists in the envelope, and passed it to Giles who placed it in the inside pocket of his greatcoat. “Is there anything we can do to further the matter while we are here?”

  “Two men have appeared recently. Both are, I believe, English. Both also appear to be expert swordsmen and pistol shots. I suspect they were deported to the colonies, but escaped when the ship stopped at Cobh to water before the long sea voyage. They have joined up with the Fenians. I guessed they had a grudge against the British for transporting them. I heard them called Rowland and Barrat.”

  Martin looked up sharply at the names. “If they are the two men whom I know, then they are indeed dangerous. I think it a good idea that we remain for sufficient time to recapture these men and send them off to the colonies as they deserve. Their crimes are blackmail and assaults on women. They use the threat of duelling with the women’s husbands to force themselves on respectable women. Since their skill with weapons is well known in England, the women submit to save their menfolk from almost certain death.”

  Fitz looked at them intently. “And sir, how do you intend to deal with these dangerous men?”

  “The last time I encountered Rowland I beat him with my hands, and kicked him into the street. This time will be the last time I soil my hands on him.”

  “In a duel?” William suggested.

  “Certainly not. Whilst with a sword I am better than competent, with a pistol I’m not so sure, I’ll take him in whichever way offers.”

  Fitz nodded slowly. “I do believe you will. We will have to find a way of placing you together.”

  Alouette interrupted at that stage. “In that case I shall see what I can do with the French trainers.” She smiled and said in French, “It is the least I can do in the circumstances.”

  Fitz answered in the same language, then in English said, “There are places where people go. There a person could accidently meet a fellow countryman, or perhaps woman.”

  Chapter twenty-four

  Playing the field

  Fitz and Alouette strolled through the city centre, Giles and William walking behind them for protection. There was plenty of light through the area and, though the hour was early, night had fallen so the street and shop lighting was welcome. The coaching inn was a haven of warmth and light. The ladies were welcomed to the private dining room reserved for the respectable clientele, and specifically for the wealthier of the city dwellers who did not always wish to dine at home. The inn was popular with the widows and those whose husbands worked elsewhere and were therefore without the male company they might otherwise have enjoyed.

  “Do you mean that this establishment is a place of assignation?” Alouette asked with a smile.

  “Certainly not,” Fitz replied with an answering grin. “Though I suspect it has been used thus on occasion. No. I can assure you that, because of the shortage of men here at present, it was tacitly decided that there should be provision made for the respectable ladies of the city to attend a restaurant of quality without the escort normally required elsewhere. The compromise reached made the ‘White Swan’ the first choice at this end of the city at least. There are other places that cater to the range of quality elsewhere in the city.”

  Alouette raised her eyebrow as they entered the inn, to be greeted by a well-dressed Maître d’hotel who accepted their cloaks and escorted them through the glass door to the ante room of the dining area. A maid appeared and offered small glasses of sherry or marsala. The pair seated themselves as the Maître returned and produced menus for them both. He indicated the small bell on the table in front of them. “Please ring the bell when you are ready to order, Mesdames.” He bowed and left them with their sherry.

  Alouette was intrigued. “I have never experienced such a thing in my life. How was it possible to obtain such freedom from established conduct?”

  Fitz smiled grimly. “The women of this city gathered after the departure of the last infantry regiment from the area. I have never seen the like. The Colonel’s lady was here to await a subsequent transport to India, The wives of those not permitted, or who could not afford to go, approached her to speak for them on the subject. Convention being what it was nearly two-thirds of the adult population remaining here were women. All were expected to wait quietly at home until husbands and lovers, fathers and brothers, returned. The small number who regularly visited between houses were a minority. The vast majority did not ‘dine out’ and, to go to a hostelry as we have done, labelled them prostitutes and subjected them to the unwanted attention of those men left behind.

  “The Colonel’s lady got the message and had the city council called to find an answer, though in the end the ladies themselves provided it. So the system was created. For any night except Friday and Saturday, the rule prevails. For Friday and Saturday, the city belongs to the men. The rest of the week, women rule.”

&
nbsp; “Until the return of the regiment.” Alouette said thoughtfully.

  “Just so,” said Fitz, ringing for the waiter to take their order.

  Martin was alone on the boat, having sent Hill and Margaret off to obtain provisions from the fish quay. Two boats had just returned with their catch. He had been considering what he would wear, when he heard movement on the aft deck of the ketch. Taking knife and pistol he made his way to the forward entrance to the cabin. He left the lamp burning and once on deck his dropped to his knees, blessing the fact that he was wearing canvas sailing trousers. The tar between the planks of the deck would have ruined his dress clothes.

  He was able to make out two men on the after deck of the boat, both dressed in black, and by the look of them not used to boats. Their actions were clumsy on the moving deck and neither had thought to wear soft shoes. In view of this he presumed that they were not local men, since they would have probably understood boats a little better, and made less noise.

  In this he was correct. Both men were convicts who had slipped the leash at the same time as Barrat and Rowland. Freelancing, the pair were aware that the boat had recently arrived. They had watched the departure of two people earlier and seen only one person around. Happy that one man would not prevent them from stripping the boat of any valuables, if they had to kill him, so be it.

  Allan and Carter were experienced at robbery in the east end of London. Their mistake was to underestimate the person they were up against.

  Carter was in front and he was holding a club in his hand. Allan had a knife, the blade glinting evilly in the light of the lantern through the cabin window. Martin reversed the pistol in his hand and clubbed Allan over the head. He caught the unconscious man as he dropped, but the knife fell from his hand to hit the deck with a thud. Carter turned and swore at the shadowy figure behind him, “Be quiet, you idiot.” He did not realize that the figure was not Allan.