The Contraband Shore

by David Donachie

  ‘And they are going to help you see to Daisy?’ Saoirse enquired, introductions made and acknowledged, prior to their trooping out. The look Brazier gave her indicated it was so. ‘Then I should find yourself some more bodies if you want to get anywhere near Jaleel Trotter.’

  ‘That being his proper name.’ A slow nod. ‘You rate him dangerous?’

  ‘I rate him as a man not afraid to do murder, and by repute has done so, which makes it odd he sought to have you beaten.’

  ‘You make it sound as if I should be grateful to still be alive.’

  ‘Pour the tea, it will be right by now.’

  Eyes on the cups and determined to leave the saucers dry, he did not see her bite her lower lip, or discern here was a woman who was wondering how much to impart. The fact that John Hawker had collared and was keeping Harry Spafford was no mystery: how could it be when it had been carried out in broad daylight and with an excess of squealing from the victim?

  Everyone in Deal knew what had happened, possibly except the likes of the man before her, a stranger to the place and not included in the general tavern and coffee shop gossip, not least because he rarely visited them. She could not think of a good time to seek retribution on Daisy Trotter, but right now was the worst of all.

  It was obvious after the grabbing of Harry there was a clash coming between Spafford and Hawker, which would involve the men they led, and it took no great wit to discern the reason was over rumoured losses of contraband. If the latter could stride through the town with impunity, the others could not. Hawker owned the streets; Spafford was rumoured to be holed up in Worth and waiting.

  ‘If I was to advise that it might be best to put aside any notion of vengeance on Daisy Trotter, would you heed me?’

  ‘I might,’ Brazier replied unconvincingly, as he handed her a cup of tea. ‘But I would need to know why.’

  ‘The time is not right.’ A quizzical look. ‘As of this moment, it would be hard to get to him – not that it was ever easy, given he’s known for his skill with the blade.’

  ‘Sword or knife?’

  ‘It would scarce make a difference on a marble slab.’

  ‘I have faced both before, Saoirse, and much worse besides. Cannonballs, muskets, axes, boathooks, marlin spikes – and come away with little to complain about, bar the odd scratch and bruise. Take it as true, I can handle a fellow with a knife.’

  ‘Not if he got close to you afore it showed. You’d scarce rate a skin-and-bone creature like Jaleel Trotter as a threat, doubly so when he wheezes to breathe—’

  She stopped, taken with the look on his face, which had suddenly become enquiring. ‘Describe him to me?’

  As she complied, and her portrayal was full of detail, Edward Brazier was back in that crowded inn on the way to Deal, looking past the sod he knew to be John Hawker at the man who had been named as Jaleel, not a common name, even if it was biblical.

  ‘You say this Daisy is not a man for beatings but the knife.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘What about John Hawker, whom Vincent assures me is a creature best avoided?’

  ‘It would fit his ways more.’

  ‘And what would you say if I was to suggest they were both involved, that they combined to chastise me for a trifling squabble?’

  Saoirse laughed again, and full-blooded it was, but there was ridicule in it more than mirth, which went on for some time before she could speak. ‘You don’t know the pair, that’s for certain. They are sworn enemies.’

  ‘If I have the right of it, and by the name and your description I think it so, why would two sworn enemies be hugger-mugger in a tavern and determined what they said to each other was not to be overheard?’

  Now she looked confused and stayed that for some time as Brazier explained what had happened. His senses acute, he was slightly puzzled by her expression, which was not one of disbelief but one of suddenly being guarded.

  ‘I have an impression there are things you’re not telling me.’

  The reply was sharp, the expression an indication of a complete mood shift, with the crockery in her hand rattling slightly. ‘I did not come here to suffer examination.’

  ‘Forgive me if it appears I am engaged in doing that, but I would remind you I was subjected to a severe drubbing, you witnessing the results. It is not something I’m minded to let pass without I retaliate, not least because I got not only the name Daisy, but a warning to depart Deal. Given I have no intention of complying, I have to guard against a repeat. I am hoping that is not a thing you would be happy to see.’

  Saoirse put the cup and saucer down and sat for a long moment in contemplation, to then look him right in the eye with a determined expression on her face. ‘With what I am going to tell you, I suggest something stronger than tea might be required.’

  ‘Wine?’ Brazier asked, intrigued.

  ‘Brandy, Edward, and I think you will sink it in quantity when I tell you from where it comes and how. But I do so on one condition and that is you never tell anyone it was me who passed this to you.’

  Henry Tulkington came back to Cottington, his Berlin having met him off the Sandwich coach, still with no knowledge of recent events. He was welcomed by both his sister and his aunt, who posed the obligatory question over a pot of tea as to the success of his trip. And how was Uncle Dirley?

  Sarah Lovell was quizzed, once Betsey was not present, about how many visits she had made to the Brazier house and queries as to behaviour, these being responded to positively for nothing untoward had been permitted to take place. No question then arose afterwards from his stated intention to visit the stables and talk to the head groom. What he heard there rendered him a lot less sanguine.

  ‘There has to be a gate of which we know little, set in the southern wall, for that is where she went on her walks regular.’

  ‘And she went there how many times?’

  ‘Three while you was absent. I trailed her each day, as you asked.’

  ‘To meet with the man I told you of?’ A nod. ‘I am bound to ask if there was a degree of intimacy.’

  ‘Hand holding and an exchange of kisses, your honour, but …’ Embarrassment precluded him from naming what else could have occurred and he had no need to. That imparted was enough. ‘It looked chaste enough, if I may make so bold.’

  ‘You may not! Have you told anyone of this?’

  ‘That, sir, would be against your express desire.’

  It was uncomfortable to be under the suspicious gaze of Henry Tulkington. Lasting for near a half a minute, it felt like an hour. ‘Make sure it stays that way.’

  A touched forelock was the only response to his employer as he departed the stables. He had not asked about the notes, which had been sent by his sister at least once a day and twice on one occasion, using the youngest stable boy and, if he did not know of them, he could stay in ignorance. A long-time servant, his head groom had a nose for trouble when brewing which had been discussed with the cook and the head footman, it being essential they ensure no trouble came their way in the backwash.

  As he walked back to the front entrance, Henry Tulkington was considering what needed to be done, given it was now obvious time would likely not temper Elisabeth’s infatuation. If she would go to the trouble of arranging clandestine meetings, it could only mean it had probably moved on to become a passion. Had the moment arrived to contemplate the complete removal of Edward Brazier? If it was undertaken, could it be so covered up so as to ensure no blame attached to him?

  These were deep waters indeed and required that he discuss them with John Hawker, for he had the notion a disappearance would serve better than a body to be mourned and that meant the use of the slaughterhouse.

  ‘Henry,’ Betsey called, ‘dinner is ready to be put on the table.’

  It was rare for him to gift anyone a full smile but he did so now. ‘My apologies, dear sister. And as we dine you must tell me how you are faring with your Captain Brazier.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TW
O

  Edward Brazier, as they drank wine instead of brandy, realised much of what Saoirse was telling him was supposition, the things people say quietly to each other on the grounds that it is gossip, not established truth. Asked, he would have admitted it was rife as well as a bane in the King’s Navy, generally employed to undermine rivals. The owner of Cottington Court was seen as the guiding hand behind what had become a major enterprise, but pressed to give credence to her story by stating actual offences that could be set against the name she was left exasperated, for there were none.

  Without question she could say John Hawker was employed by Tulkington at the slaughterhouse, but also as an auxiliary Collector of Taxes for the municipality of Deal. There Saoirse could speak with total confidence about his dual functions, one legal and official, the other quite the reverse.

  ‘I pay him the tax due on what I sell and, to satisfy, I have to show my accounts for the quarter. Fewer have a sharper eye for inaccuracies than Hawker. Some say it’s how he got his name.’

  ‘No wonder he was not welcome.’ Brazier reprised his first night in the Playhouse and the stiffness of the interchange he observed. ‘But you must own it is an odd combination: an outright bully by repute, but with a counting house brain.’

  ‘At the same time of calling, he will advise what is in the offing in contraband and invite me to bid for what I would like to buy.’

  ‘Like wine casks of superior quality?’

  ‘That and brandy, which he also sells to the alehouse.’ Not supposed to sell spirits, it was commonplace that tavern owners did so; like the servants listed on a ship’s muster while still ashore, it was too common a minor peculation to raise comment. ‘They will also purchase tobacco.’

  ‘Garlick?’

  Saoirse nodded, her next comment being delivered with an arch look.

  ‘I take it you bought this wine we’re drinking from Mr Parkin?’ Brazier did not need to acknowledge the truth of the proposition, so she added, ‘Well he bottles it from the source, so there’s none without guilt, if avoiding harsh duties could be termed that. Is the buyer any more free of sin than the seller?’

  ‘Would it surprise you to say I have no interest in avoidance, in any other respect than the way it impacts on my future plans?’

  ‘I cannot see having Henry Tulkington for a brother-in-law, if half of what is hinted about him is true, as a way to bring much comfort.’

  There was a significant pause before Brazier responded. ‘Does having him as a brother look any different?’

  ‘If you have not already asked yourself that question, it’s about time you did so.’

  ‘I cannot believe Betsey Langridge has any knowledge of what you have suggested.’

  ‘Would it alter your thinking,’ she asked, ‘if that turned out not to be the case?’

  It was not a question he could readily answer. If Betsey knew, or even suspected her brother was the man to control a major part of smuggling in East Kent, did it necessarily alter his view of her? The scale of what Saoirse put forward, regarding an organised and extensive enterprise, was telling, nothing less than the same point made to him by William Pitt. Could she share the same house and be in ignorance? He then had to remind himself she was not long back from the West Indies and had been young prior to departure.

  He reprised every word they had exchanged, from the first meeting in Jamaica to the last walk in the woods, seeking clues, to come to no conclusion, but knew the mere thought Betsey could keep such knowledge from him must impact on their relationship. It was to get away from such troubling speculations he changed the course of the conversation.

  ‘You said people who have fallen out with Henry Tulkington pay a price?’

  ‘I say the rumour is that those in dispute with him suffer for it, yes, though at one remove.’

  ‘Hawker?’

  ‘Him or those he employs, I would guess.’

  ‘Could I fall into such a category?’

  ‘You would know the truth of it better than I.’

  Brazier was back in that too-hot study, reprising his fractious meeting with Tulkington, resisting the notion the exchange could have led to what happened. He decided to relate the memory to Saoirse, impressed by the way she listened without comment until he finished. It was a time before she responded.

  ‘I think I have to say to you this. Jaleel Trotter, your Daisy, is not a well-known face in Deal and neither is he of the tough sort. You should ask yourself why he carries the name.’

  ‘I have experienced the same name-calling in the service. I assume for a similar vice.’

  ‘He visits the town from time to time – but rarely, and keeps to certain places.’

  ‘I recall passing an alleyway towards the North End of Middle Street – would he be found there?’

  ‘More likely than elsewhere,’ Saoirse acknowledged, ‘but that too is gossip. It’s not a place I frequent.’

  ‘Say I did upset Tulkington enough to warrant a beating in his eyes; it would then follow he set Hawker to do the deed. And, since he is dead set on my not marrying his sister, the proscription to depart Deal would fit the purpose. But that still does not explain the use of Daisy’s name.’

  It was impossible to miss the worried frown that produced, immediately followed by her standing, which brought Brazier to his feet as well. ‘There are questions to which I don’t have an answer, any more than you. I must also own to have gone further than intended in possible enlightenment. I must put my affairs and livelihood before your need to know things, and if it was known I talked—’

  ‘Fear not, Saoirse. If I choose to act on what you have given me, it will be done in my own name.’

  Having seen her out the door, Brazier was left to contemplate the exchange as well as how to proceed, which was not easy given his thinking kept being dragged back to the past. One thought did surface: Betsey had told him her brother would come round to blessing their union in time, as he had with Stephen Langridge, which begged the question as to why he had objected to that union in the first place. There was only one place to find more information and that would have to wait until morning.

  Henry Tulkington listened to John Hawker as he outlined how he had collared Harry Spafford and, since there was no effusive approval, he was obliged to explain it had been a sudden thing, taken on the wing, rather than considered. That he had blabbed the truth of his father’s thieving was entered as justification.

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Stowed with the barrels he feels sure he will end up in.’

  Tulkington could not say, even if he would like to, that the action had been unwise and, in such a public manner, doubly so. Had it been done in secret, Harry would have been a solid chip with which to bargain. The way he had been lifted and his pleas for mercy would be the talk of Deal, which meant any concession made from Worth would look like weakness. So his pa would stand as firm as he could to save face, and he could, knowing that to harm or dispose of Harry, when the whole town knew of his whereabouts and who had him, was impossible.

  To just hand the youngster back would send the opposite message, neither course bringing the result Tulkington reckoned he needed, which was that his operations should go on without trouble from any quarter. The people he traded with did so in the full expectation of their requirements being met.

  At their meeting Spafford had given out no sign of being ill, which might give the lie to his claim of approaching death. Yet if true, the offer he had made stood to remove for good what was an irritation and one threatening to become a problem. It hinged on the depth of that which Spafford sought for his wastrel son – a sum of money, but one never arrived at. Much as he hated to bend, sense and the needs of his business meant it should be established.

  ‘I do not expect you to like this John, but I require you to make contact with Jaleel Trotter again. Spafford and I need to talk and soon.’

  The supposition such an errand might be unwelcome was obvious; Hawker looked as though he had sw
allowed a wasp, an indication of the depth of his objection given he took great care to hide any emotion at all from his employer; businesslike was best.

  ‘Would I be permitted to say that there’s another way open?’

  Tulkington was angered by the suggestion, which implied he had not thought matters through, but it was he who now needed to hide his feelings. ‘Threaten harm to Harry?’

  ‘For a return of that stolen, added to a payment for the affront.’

  Hawker had something of a mind, but did it extend beyond the learning of letters and the ability to read accounts? What was required now would not be served by a bloody reaction and again, the whole of Deal knew where Harry Spafford was being held. The angry look at the suggestion of talking to Trotter had disappeared, but Hawker’s look was flinty, while the stiff posture and bunched fists at his side indicated the depth of his frustration.

  ‘Best, then, I tell you what was imparted to me on the last occasion Spafford and I talked.’

  Tulkington kept a sharp eye on his man as he related the nature of the exchange in the coach, and only in the odd twitch of skin on the cheeks could he discern how upset Hawker was. It required to be dealt with.

  ‘You are wondering at not being told before?’

  ‘Had I been, I would not have wasted breath charging round the town askin’ daft questions, Mr Tulkington. If it gets out, I will look a fool, which I say will serve neither you nor I.’

  ‘Even knowing what I have just told you, John, I was no more certain of the culprit than you.’ The cheeks hollowed as Hawker’s jaw tightened; he might as well have called him a liar which, if it annoyed his employer, nevertheless made it necessary to placate a man he needed. ‘I regret it now, but I thought it wise at the time. And I had given Spafford my word not to divulge what he told me, even to you.’

  ‘Your word is your bond, I reckon, right enough.’

  The way that was said belied the words. The tone of Tulkington’s response had to be very measured; it also had to be accompanied with a regretful smile. The end was more important right now than Hawker’s wounded feelings; those he could deal with afterwards.