“She says that you must make the pup your friend and he will protect you with his life. There is food for him in the bag.” Jeroen translated
She said something else.
“She said to feed the dog with your eyes. She means don’t let him get fat. They are best kept skinny and well exercised.”
“What is thank you in Dutch? Marty asked
“Hartelijk dank” Said Jeroen
Marty looked the women in the eyes and said
“Hartelijk dank for the pup” then leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek
She laughed and kissed him three times alternately on each cheek.
It was Jeroen’s turn to laugh as he told Marty that three kisses were the norm in Holland.
As they set off back down the road Marty asked Jeroen.
“What are these dogs like to own?”
“Loyal, protective, brave and love to work” Jeroen replied. “They are used for everything from herding sheep to guard dogs and police work.”
Marty thought for a while and then asked.
“How big will he grow? He is a stocky little fellow right now but his mother was, what, around 50 – 55 pounds?”
“The males get bigger” Jeroen laughed “He could get to 35 Kilos that’s around 75 pounds”
“Oh, quite big then” Marty said in wonder as the pup was fast asleep in his cocoon in Marty’s coat and having a dream snuffling and moving his legs as he relived some adventure he had had during the day. It weighed around 12 pounds right now.
“When do they get to full size?’
“Oh at around two and a half to three years old. They grow up for the first year and then put on muscle for the next eighteen months to two years. They live quite long lives for dogs and some get to 14 years!” Jeroen told him. “They are also very intelligent and easily trained. Just use lots of food as bribes.”
They walked on and Marty noticed some low clouds scudding across the sky from the West. If the wind at sea level was the same they would have trouble leaving harbour.
They entered the outskirts of Scheveningen at around four in the morning. The men became more alert as they started to pass houses and the noise of the horses walking sounded preternaturally loud. But no lights came on and apart from the odd woof from an inquisitive dog and cats running across the road on their nocturnal patrols they saw no one.
They reached the harbour and Jeroen pointed out the yacht. She was a beauty, moored to a buoy in the centre of the harbour she rode high in the water. Single masted and gaff rigged with a typically Dutch hull, lee boards and raised poop deck..
They borrowed a row boat to ferry them all across, he saw the yacht was called the Anika, and once on started a quick inventory of what was aboard. There was a cabin and he put the now wide awake pup in there while he searched it. He discovered then that pups have no bladder control as it immediately peed on the deck. So he mopped it up with a rag and gave him some water and a bit of sausage he had in his pack. One thing became clear almost immediately was that the boat hadn’t been stocked with food or water. Food they could do without as they still had some of their rations left over but water was something they couldn’t miss. So he sent Matai and Jeroen ashore to find a pump to fill a couple of barricos with water. He then turned his attention to the sails and rigging. The Anika was well found with serviceable rigging and two sets of sails, neither of which were rigged. He decided that it would be fastest to set up the lighter weight set and put the boys to work.
While they were busy rigging the sails he studied the exit from the harbour. The channel ran northwest and according to the chart there were sand bars close in shore that they would have to avoid. With her fore and aft sails, she should be able to negotiate that with a westerly breeze blowing.
A bump announced the return of Matai and Jeroen and he went over to help them get the kegs on board. Matai passed up a large flour sack. Curious Marty opened it and saw a couple of round cheeses, several loaves of bread and long dried sausages. He decided he didn’t want to know where that had come from and just be grateful for breakfast.
“The sails be all rigged Sir” Tom reported. “We be ready for sea whenever you wants to leave.”
“OK, set the foresail and let go the mooring. Let’s see how she behaves” said Marty and moved to take the tiller.
Up went the foresail and as it filled the men let go one end of the cable that was looped through the mooring ring on the buoy.
“Brace up” called Marty and the crew pulled on the lines that trimmed the sail taught so the wind blew along the length of it. They started to make headway and Marty felt the rudder bite. He had made sure he knew where the landmarks were that he needed to steer by to find the exit by starlight and had sent Tom to the bow to signal any slight changes of course he needed to make.
There was a shout from the shore. Marty looked back and was surprised to see the glow of the dawn sun coming over the horizon. He couldn’t see who had shouted or what was said but there was a flash then a bang and a musket ball hissed by over his head. Marty guessed that the guards at the farm had gotten free and had run to Scheveningen to raise the alarm.
To get out of the harbour they had to pass through a narrow entrance before running the channel through the beach. If the Dutch Soldiers managed to get enough men at the harbour mouth they would have to run a gauntlet of musket fire at the least.
With such a light breeze and only the foresail set they were creeping along at around two to three knots. He didn’t want to go any faster in the near dark as he had to “feel” his way through the exit. Another couple of shots rang out from the larboard side and one ricocheted of the rail and missed him by a foot or so. Bugger this is getting warm, he thought.
He glanced back at the eastern horizon. The sun was just showing its upper rim. He looked to larboard and realized he could see the shoreline and around a dozen soldiers running to get to the southern arm of the harbour mouth before them..
“Haul the mainsail!” he shouted deciding the time for caution was gone. His men rushed to obey and hauled the gaff boom up with the sail attached to it. It stopped half way up. The ring around the mast that attached to the top boom had twisted and jammed. He saw Antton climbing up to try and stamp it free.
There was a volley of shots and Antton grabbed at his side. He lost his hold and fell but Wilson was there out of nowhere to catch the much smaller man and lower him to the deck. He then took Antton’s place and hauled himself up a rope to where he could stamp down on the ring to try and free it.
Another volley. Marty looked across and could see that the soldiers had reach the harbour mouth and were stood in a row reloading their muskets.
He would have given anything at that moment for a single carronade but the yacht was unarmed. Wish we had some muskets even. he thought to himself.
There was a load clank and the sail started up the mast again. Wilson dropped to the deck and joined the men hauling.
Another volley and bullets whizzed past like angry hornets, biting chunks out of the woodwork and tugging at the rigging.
They were accelerating, almost up to five knots he estimated.
Christ more of them, he thought as he watched another troop of soldiers arrive on the point and form up into a second rank. They are going to wait till we are in the harbour mouth and they can’t miss from that range.
They entered the harbour mouth, their bowsprit was just level with the wall. Marty braced himself and yelled,
“Everybody DOWN!”
The entire crew went flat to the deck. Marty crouched as low as he could while still being able to steer.
It was like the world held its breath and everything shifted into slow motion. The soldiers let go with another volley and the bullets buzzed angrily past over his head. The smoke from their guns obscuring them.
There was a second volley that buzzed angrily through the rigging. It was aimed high. “The smoke is blinding them” he said to Smith who was stood close by. “We have a chance!”
Marty was about to shout a warning when there was the rumble-chuff of a small broadside of carronades. The ground around the soldiers erupted in geysers of sand and dirt as balls struck home. When the dust settled moments later he saw that the two ranks had been decimated by a hail of cannister shot from the Carronades
“Tis the Lark!” shouted Tom from the foredeck
Marty stood and looked forward. There, with the rising sun shining on her sails, rode the Lark with the men lining the side waving like mad things and yelling their heads off.
A half hour later and the two craft were heading south west on course to the Thames Estuary and Chatham where Marty’s orders told him to deliver the yacht, it’s cargo and the Ministers.
He left the tiller to John and went below to check on the Ministers and his pup. He found all three in the cabin. The Ministers sat comfortably on the benches along the hull and the pup curled up asleep under the table. Antton was propped in a corner with his chest bandaged where the musket ball had dug a farrow as it skidded along his ribs. But apart from losing a drop or two of blood he was sore rather than disabled. They had left Jeroen on shore as he said he still had work to do.
He greeted the men and at the sound of his voice the pup got to its feet and trotted over to him. He picked it up and it snuggled its head under his chin and washed his neck with its little soft tongue.
“Are you well?” he asked the Ministers?
“Ya alles goed” the older one replied with the characteristic Dutch GGGHHH at the start of good.
“Martyn van Boekel” he added introducing himself and holding out his hand.
Marty shook it and replied “Pleasure to meet you Sir”
The other man held out his hand and said in good English “I am Artur van Grinsven. We would like to thank you and your men for rescuing us and our countries treasures. It would have been very bad if the French got their hands on it. They are robbing us blind with extortionate war reparation taxes as it is”
“Our honour to help you Sir” Marty replied
Van Grinsven looked at him more closely and he said in surprise “My God you are just a jounger! How old are you my boy?”
Marty bristled a bit at that. “Seventeen sir and five years in the service of His Majesty’s Navy. Now second in command of the unit tasked with this operation” he replied a little sharply.
“Oh I meant no insult” van Grinsven smiled “You are obviously capable and Mijnheer Wickham must have much faith in you.”
“None taken sir”
The pup chose that moment to whine and wiggle in his arms.
“He will be a fine dog when he is older” said van Grinsven. “but I think he needs to be fed and given a drink right now and you might want to clean up the little present he left under the table” he added with a smile.
Chapter 14 Undercover jinx
Marty was back at The Farm playing with Blaez his pup. Blaez was wolf in old Breton according to Armand and Marty reckoned that it was a very apt name for his new best friend. They were enjoying a game of tug that soon dissolved into a mini wrestling match as the pup decided it was more fun to jump on Marty’s hands then the toy. Marty enjoyed it but damn the pups teeth were as sharp as needles. It was the end of January and it was a snowy winter so they were stuck playing in doors. What amazed him was how fast the pup was growing!
He heard a horse come up the gravel drive and stop outside the front door and then a loud knock. Will Barbour their servant went to the door and opened it. Blaez set himself foursquare in front of Marty and barked with the hair on his back raised up.
“Steady boy” Marty said as he stood. The pup looked over his shoulder at him and quieted but kept his attention on the door.
There was a knock and it opened. Will led in a Navy Courier who was still shaking snow from his cloak.
“Midshipman Stockley?” he asked. When Marty nodded he reached into his bag and took out two packages. One looked like it was a standard set of orders but the other was much more bulky.
“These are from Admiral Hood” he held out a receipt pad “can you sign that you have received them”
Marty thanked him and signed where the man indicated.
“Would you like some food before you return?” Marty asked
“I am to wait for your reply once you have read your orders” he replied “so I would be grateful to get warm, dry out a bit and get something to eat”
“Will, please take our friend here to the kitchen and take care of him” Marty asked.
He took the packages into the office and slit open the orders first. He read them and then sat back with his eyebrows raised in surprise. The door opened and Armand came in. He was still limping from his broken leg and was using a cane to help him walk. He looked at Marty’s face and said,
“What is it?”
“Well I think we just found out what had our friend was so agitated about when you rescued him from the excise” Marty told him. “It would appear that the French are planning something for their fleet and a very large army out of Toulon and our friend wants to know what they are up to. `He wants me to go to Toulon as soon as possible, make an assessment of the forces and ships and find out whatever I can. There will be another agent joining us before we sail”
“I will get the Alouette prepared to leave immediately” Armand said.
“Thank you” Marty replied. He didn’t need to ask if Armand was fit enough to command her. He couldn’t stop him if he wanted to. He took out a paper and picked up a pen and wrote a short reply for Hood and Wickham. He then called Will and wrote a second note while he waited for him to arrive.
“Can you get this message to Bill Clarence as soon as possible” he said handing him the sealed envelope. In it, he was informing him that they would be away for a while. He asked him to send the boys over that normally crewed the Alouette and for them to be prepared to be away for an extended trip. He knew that Bill wouldn’t ask why or where and trust that whatever they were up to would bring a profit one way or another. He also gave Will the envelope for the courier to take back to the Admiralty.
He then opened the second package. It contained a report of everything the agent had been able to discover. Reports of overheard conversations between ministers, the minutes of a meeting of the supply board, a copy of a map of Toulon showing where the staging areas for troops and supplies were. Plenty of time to read all that on the voyage to Toulon, he thought.
He picked a fresh piece of blank paper and wrote a letter to Caroline. He just told her he had orders to sail and would be away for a while. That he would see her as soon as he returned and for her not to worry. He knew that wouldn’t satisfy her and that she would corner Hood as soon as she could to try and get the where and why for out of him, but that was Hood’s problem to deal with.
He then went to the closet where they stored clothes that were useful for traveling in France and selected a couple of sets that he thought might be useful and packed them in his sea trunk. He then checked over a pair of .5” calibre, eight inch double barrelled pistols he had bought last time in London. They had the new rifling and were accurate up to about twenty five yards. They were easier to conceal than his Nocks and gave him almost as much fire power. The gunsmith who made them was young and not afraid to experiment with new techniques. He put them back in their box which had a powder flask, balls and ball mould as well as a cleaning kit, oil and spare flints. The box went into the chest along with a set of throwing knives, a pair of punch daggers and two stilettoes. He then packed his personal kit which now included a razor and finally his uniforms that were all new from his last trip to London, as he had outgrown all his old ones.
He checked his watch. It was time for dinner and he knew that the Alouette wouldn’t be ready to sail until at leas
t the next afternoon’s tide. He was one month off of his seventeenth birthday and the thought of missing a meal could cause him physical pain.
Armand returned in time to sit down with the men in the common dining room that they shared with the Master and Mates when ashore. It wasn’t conventional but it was convenient. Will had gotten the cook to prepare a special meal as he knew they would all be leaving the next day. They had one of Marty’s favourites, Faggots. These were rich meat balls of pork liver, belly and lights (heart lungs and kidneys), onions and herbs wrapped in a caul and baked in gravy in the oven, along with a steak and onion pie, mashed and boiled potatoes, roasted parsnips, mashed buttered swede and sprouts. Pudding was a spotted dick with custard or crème englaise as Armand called it.
They were just about to get stuck in when there was a knock on the front door. Will went out to see who it was. A minute later and the dining room door opened and in walked a woman in a deep blue cloak with the hood pulled up over her head concealing her face. As the men stood she reached up and pulled the hood back to reveal blond hair and an elfin face.
“Linette!” Marty cried as she looked up
“Hello Marty,” she smiled and looked around the room. Her eyes rested on Wilson and she smiled and said
“Hello Wilson, are you well?”
“Aye and even better for seein’ you Miss Linette”
“Are you the second agent for this trip?” Marty asked
“Yes, but please continue your meal”
Armand, who had never seen Linette couldn’t take his eyes off her and told Will to get her a chair so she could eat with them.
She looked at the food on the table with interest and said
“The meatballs, are they the West Country faggots?” Arnaud said they were and they were a speciality of the cook who came from Wiltshire.
Linette took two and some potatoes and sprouts and tucked in. The men laughed and got stuck into their own meal.
After dinner Marty, Armand and Linette sat down in front of the fire and talked about the upcoming mission.
The Special Operations Flotilla: The Dorset Boy Book 2 Page 13