The Privateersman

by The Privateersman (retail) (epub)

  ‘It touches him directly. Was he ever in any way connected with your mother.’

  Katherine nodded. ‘He has long been an intimate in this house. When my father was at sea, he was frequently a caller and sometimes I suspected that he did not leave, or returned late…’

  ‘I understand. Now, listen carefully. I am in the process of detaching myself from the company. Frith and Watkinson have been intriguing to gain control without my knowledge, a fact that I have become aware of. There is also a matter closely concerning your brother Harry, who is, I gather, being put up for a seat in Parliament. Frith, it seems wishes to increase his wealth, standing and influence at the same time; Watkinson is his creature and you are no longer central to their plan. Now, my dear, the sad truth is that your mother would make a better wife for Frith and, if you refuse him, he will almost certainly propose to her. You have nothing to fear and I shall see that you are provided for before I leave.’

  ‘You are leaving us?’ Katherine’s alarm was touching.

  ‘Yes. I must, but it is time that you left this place and had an establishment of your own. I shall install you in my own house and you may have Mrs O’Riordan, Maggie and the three men as your household. I will leave you an annuity and you will still benefit from the profits of the company. There, what do you say?’

  ‘It is most irregular… What will others say?’

  ‘Your mother will say you are ungrateful, Mr Frith will come to terms with it, the population of this town will say Captain Topsy-Turvy is up to his mad tricks again and you, I will lay five hundred guineas on it, will have half a dozen suitors paying you court within a month of my departure.’

  ‘But I cannot accept.’

  ‘But me no buts, my dear Kate, I need you to do as I bid. I cannot abandon Mrs O’Riordan, I do not want to lose my property but Puella’s death has ended my life here. You will not, I know, abuse my trust and I am anxious to restore my spirits.’

  ‘You are going back to sea?’

  ‘I am, the moment the Spitfire comes in.’ He smiled at her. ‘Come now, I have much to do, let me know your answer by this time tomorrow. Will you do that?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, yes of course, and thank you for your kindness.’

  ‘Tush, Katherine, I am not being kind, I am merely being pragmatic.’

  At his own house he learned from Mrs O’Riordan that Puella’s funeral could be held the following morning and that she had sent Bandy Ben to arrange for a coffin maker to call. The rickety old fellow arrived back and knuckled his forehead to Kite who wished him a good morning. Ben was a misfit and although Mrs O’Riordan never owned to it, Puella had discovered he was some sort of a relative of the housekeeper’s. But he was a reliable message bearer and while he hardly ever spoke, Kite had discovered that he had a quite uncanny facility with figures. Such attributes made him uncommonly handy to a ship-owner whose communications with the docks were frequent and often entailed quantities more than mere facts. Bandy Ben could recite an inward ship’s draught, the tonnage of her lading, the dues payable and the wage bill for her crew without recourse to endless chits of paper. But he could not otherwise communicate, and stood in sudden solemnity and Mrs O’Riordan spoke for him.

  ‘There now, sir, Ben wishes you to know how sorry he is about the Mistress.’

  ‘I thank you Ben. You are a good man. You will see that she is tended well by the coffin maker, I hope.’

  Ben nodded vigorously. ‘Five feet six an’ seven eighths of an inch, Cap’n,’ he said, repeating Puella’s height.

  ‘I put a dress upon her sir, this morning.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs O’Riordan. Now forgive me, but there are matters of business coming to a head and I have to return to the counting-house.’

  He left Mrs O’Riordan to her head-shaking and her muttering about business being too important these days, and asking whatever happened to a decent wake. If ever a body needed a wake it was that of the black Mistress, or she was not Siobhan O’Riordan from the Cove of Cork.

  Neither Frith nor Watkinson remained at the counting house when Kite returned there. He had half-anticipated their departure, but nevertheless felt a sense of disappointment. Johnstone followed him into his private office and closed the door behind them.

  ‘Forgive the presumption, Captain Kite,’ he said, ‘but the birds have flown.’

  ‘That is not altogether a surprise, Nathan. Were they in good spirits when they left?’

  ‘Watkinson made a show of it, certainly…’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘He smiled at me.’

  ‘Putting a brave face on it, or crowing?’

  ‘Impossible to say, but I suspect the former.’

  ‘I think you might be more optimistic; after all it is not Watkinson who has to put up the cash. By the by, do McClusky and Peters have any notion of what is afoot?’ Kite asked, seating himself and drawing towards him the sheaf of papers pertaining to the recent refit of the Samphire.

  Johnstone shook his head. ‘No sir. But I should not linger here, for it might arouse suspicions.’

  Johnstone had hardly regained his desk when Frith, disdaining to knock, marched into the office followed by Watkinson. Kite looked up. Both men wore expressions of neither triumph nor defeat, rather of grim determination. Frith made his offer; it was based on the overall sum of all shares owned by Kite or his late wife.

  ‘As I expected, at three pounds per share you undervalue the ships.’

  ‘You are holding a pistol to our heads, Captain. It is a fair offer under the circumstances.’

  ‘It is as fair an offer as you are prepared to make but wait a moment. Mr Watkinson, please call Mr Johnstone here a moment.’

  Watkinson did as he was bid and Johnstone came in and shut the door behind him. ‘Gentlemen? What can I do for you?’

  ‘Johnstone, I have a small commission for you. I should be obliged if you will seek a valuation on my shares in our ships. It is my intention to sell out. You may start with Mr Bibby and then seek out Mr Brocklebank. Do you understand, Johnstone?’

  Johnstone made a fair stab at feigning his astonishment. ‘Yes, I understand, sir.’

  ‘Don’t be a fool man,’ cut in Frith, ‘Bibby will undervalue once he knows it is a buyer’s market, so will Brocklebank and the rest. If I put ten shillings on my price, will you not accept?’

  ‘I will accept nothing less than four pounds a share,’ Kite said coolly.

  Frith sighed. ‘Very well then. I agree.’

  Kite saw the gleam of triumph in Watkinson’s eyes as he turned to Frith and nodded. Kite had not been wrong; Mr Watkinson had this day, hiked up his station in the world. But, thought Kite, with that went his expectations too. He rose and nodded to Frith. ‘Very well, Frith. I shall not trouble you further. Let us conclude the business. I shall ask, er, Johnstone there to draw up the bills of sale and he can deliver them to Watkinson. Mr Watkinson, your fortunes today have been somewhat mercurial. I wish you joy of your new opportunities. You may draw up a deed for my perusal to detach my name from this company. As soon as these matters are concluded, I shall leave in the Spitfire. Mr Johnstone, you may grub me up a cargo for the Antilles, if you please.’

  And as he walked from their presence he though again of the magnitude of his sinfulness.

  The day of Puella’s funeral was worse than that of her son. The little group of mourners, consisting of Kite, Mrs O’Riordan, Maggie and Bandy Ben, with Katherine Makepeace, Johnstone, McClusky and Dr Bennett, stood under a downpour which fell in torrents from a sky of lead. The vicar rushed the committal, took Kite’s pour-boire with a shifty manner that was so full of eagerness to be away, that it compelled Kite to go back to the graveside and stand and watch while the sexton and his mate filled it in. He was conscious of his preoccupation during the last few days, a guilt which only compounded the terrible certainty that he could have saved Puella from herself and that the fact that he had not done so only attested to the fact that he had been neglecting her for
a longer time than the last few days of the cholera outbreak.

  Beside him the sexton coughed, waking Kite from his reflections. He gave the two men a guinea and, after they had gone, said his private and heartfelt farewell.

  He and Puella had grown as far apart as man and wife can grow under the harsh, ineluctable and imperative circumstances of life, but he recalled her not as she had become, but as she had been when he first set eyes upon her on the deck of the slaver Enterprize. He knelt, touched his finger to his lips and placed them on the ground.

  ‘Fare thee well my dearest and only love.’

  Then he went home to where Mrs O’Riordan served tea and oporto to the desolate and dripping group. He moved among them, thanking them for their time and trouble, urging them not to linger in their wet clothes, coming last to Dr Bennett, who was talking to Katherine Makepeace.

  ‘I was saying to Miss Makepeace, Kite, that your poor wife was as much a victim to the cholera as your son. You should console yourself with that thought.’

  ‘It is kind of you to ease my conscience, Bennett, but I am not sure that you are right. But tell me, is the cholera still rampant?’

  ‘No, it is on the wane; why, I cannot tell you, but this week the numbers have dropped and I understand that this diminution is widespread, thank goodness.’

  Kite noticed Katherine shiver. ‘Come, Kate, we must get you home before you succumb to some fever. If you’ll excuse me Bennett, I’ll see Miss Makepeace home.’

  ‘There is no need. I shall attend to the matter myself.’ Bennett offered his arm to Katherine who took it with a smile. Bennett leaned towards Kite and said in a low voice, ‘Miss Makepeace has confided in me your intentions regarding herself. I think it most kind of you and have counseled her accordingly. I hope you don’t mind my interfering.’

  Kite smiled. ‘I could never mind you meddling, Bennett, you are too old a friend.’

  Bennett chuckled and led Katherine off, then the others made their farewells. Johnston hung back until last.

  ‘Are you all right, Captain?’ he asked solicitously.

  Kite nodded. ‘Yes, thank you.’

  ‘And you wish me to continue as we discussed?’

  ‘Exactly as we discussed.’

  ‘Very well. Then until I hear from you, I wish you farewell.’

  In the following few days, Kite put his domestic affairs in order, arranging a tombstone for the grave of Puella and her son, instructing Mrs O’Riordan of the arrangements which would come into force after his own departure and making financial provision for the running costs of the house and an allowance for Katherine. Until these were concluded he kept his own company, sending Bandy Ben off with his letters and patiently awaiting news of the arrival of the Spitfire. It occurred to him that should she fail to berth, his case would be altered, but his fortune was not entirely bound up in his ships and his bankers held sufficient in deposits, private and Government stocks, to enable him to purchase a new vessel. He wrote to London, where he held funds with Messrs Coutts, to arrange bills of exchange and letters of credit, satisfied that these arrangements, some of which had been suggested by the shrewd Johnstone, would allow him freedom to exploit his capital to further his ambition. He also wrote to his sister Helen, his sole surviving relative who was now married to her naval husband. Henry Hope remained a lieutenant on half-pay and he knew their circumstances to be straightened. In his letter he informed her of the deaths of Puella and William, and of his plans for the future.

  If Dame Fortune wills it, he concluded, I shall Reëstablish myself as an Independent Ship-Owner and therefore in a better Position than hitherto to offer Henry a Post as Commander of one of my Vessels, if he so Desires. While I Appreciate his Reasons for Declining this Offer in the Past, I should not like him to Think it Withdrawn in its Entirety and, while it is Temporarily beyond my Means at Present, it will not be long before I am again able to Make him such an Offer should he by then find that his Advancement in the Naval Service is Delayed.

  Kite did not think for a moment that Henry Hope would abandon his naval ambitions, but it would have been unthinkable to abandon his brother-in-law, particularly as he might have need of some reliable masters in the near future. He thought too of Christopher Jones, and wrote to him, explaining his decision to quit the firm of Makepeace and Kite and leave for the West Indies in the Spitfire as soon as she had discharged her inward cargo.

  A week later Jones was on his doorstep demanding to see him to explain that he had called at the company’s offices and had seen that Kite name was no longer on the sign board.

  ‘I have no desire to work for a locker-full of grasping clerks, Captain. Will you take me as your mate again?’

  ‘You would relinquish your entitlement to command, Jones?’

  Jones nodded. ‘For the time being. Don’t think I have lost me nerve, though God knows the memory of the wreck dogs me like the pox itself, but another opportunity will come and you are not the man to deny it to me, I think, Captain Kite.’

  ‘Do not have too good an opinion of me, Jones. You would not find it echoed within the hallowed precincts of… what exactly do they call themselves now?’

  ‘Makepeace and Watkinson, sir.’

  ‘So… Mr Frith enjoys living in the shadows, eh. No wonder I rumbled him so much. I had not considered that.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ Jones frowned.

  ‘No matter, Jones, no matter.’

  ‘I was sorry to hear about Puella, Captain. She was a sweet lady and as comely as they can ever be…’

  ‘She could not stand young Will’s death, Jones.’ Kite sniffed. The candour of his old shipmate was touching and threatened to unman him. He stared at Jones, whose woolly hair showed flecks of grey, though his coffee-coloured complexion could never be mistaken for mere wind-burn. He held out his hand. ‘I am damned glad to see you, Jones, damned glad! You shall stay here until the old Spitfire’s numbers are made and then we shall have some work to do!’

  ‘Just like the old days, Captain.’

  ‘Aye, just like the old days.’

  Part Two

  Independence

  Chapter Four

  A Fall From Grace

  In the month following the Spitfire’s arrival in the Old Dock and the discharge of her mixed cargo of sugar, indigo and rum, Kite and Jones laboured at her refit, an expense entirely charged to the account of Makepeace, Watkinson and Company who still, as far as the outside world knew, were the agents for Captain Kite’s vessel. The task was carried out with great thoroughness and without any hindrance. As Jones said with satisfaction as he, Kite and Johnstone conferred one morning in the cabin, it was precisely why the time had come to leave the employ of the company.

  ‘Well,’ Jones had enlarged as Kite exchanged glances with Johnstone, ‘they might be able to determine betwixt a profit and a loss, but they have no-one who knows the difference between a chess tree and a chestnut and that deficiency would soon render their other expertise null and void.’

  ‘You are only too correct,’ Mr Jones, ‘Johnstone remarked as he put down a pot of small beer. ‘They will wake one day to the deficiency, but happily their self-conceit will obscure the facts for them for a week or two yet.’

  ‘Ahh,’ said Jones, ‘then you purposed all this?’ He looked from one to another of them. Kite smiled, but Johnstone, now fully out of the shell of his former subservience, shrugged with mock modesty.

  ‘Oh, we calculated that matters might fall out in this wise, yes…’

  ‘You are too damned modest, Johnstone,’ Kite said smiling at the quondam clerk, ‘though I like you the more for it.’ He turned to Jones, ‘the fact is, Jones, that Johnstone here is the entire brains behind this enterprise, such intrigues being beyond the abilities of poor simple seamen.’

  ‘You do me too much honour, Captain Kite.’ Johnstone held out his pot as Bandy Ben, sent by Katherine Makepeace as man-servant to Captain Kite, refilled it.

  ‘Indeed I do, but it makes you an
intelligent accomplice in my affairs, Johnstone.’ And in such a mood of convivial banter, the three men carried out the preparation of the Spitfire for her forthcoming voyage.

  The Spitfire was a schooner, Spanish-built of mahogany in Havana eighteen years earlier. Limited in her capacity to carry much cargo, she was swift, armed and best suited as a small slaver or a privateer. As her ability to earn much by her lading was restricted, Makepeace and Kite had several times considered her sale, but although they had not taken part in slaving after Kite’s marriage to Puella, Kite had refused to sell her, arguing that another war with France of Spain would find her ample and rewarding employment. Her master, a young man named Moss was eager to marry and had no objection to taking a voyage off, while the majority of her crew showed no reluctance to sign on again.

  On a fine evening in the first week of June 1772, Spitfire warped out into the River Mersey and dropped downstream on the ebb-tide, setting sail and standing to sea into the setting sun. Before dark she had crossed the bar and had laid a course north of the Great Orme, to double the Skerries and head for St George’s Channel and the open ocan beyond. Thanks to the industry of Mr Christoher Jones and the hands, she was in first-class condition; thanks to the skill of Nathan Johnstone, she bore not only a quantity of blue and white chinaware for Jamaica, Antigua and Savannah, but the commercial mails for a number of mercantile houses whose principals were anxious about the increasingly fractious state of the New England Colonies and eager to contact their agents and masters abroad. Captain Kite had made no secret of the fact that his ship was fitted out for any eventuality, that she was well armed and her magazines were full, for opinion in Liverpool was that the unstable condition of the Massachusetts was such that British goods could be at some risk, if the colonists lost their heads as they had already done in Boston. Kite’s private agenda, concerted with Johnstone, had no warlike intent. He had simply equipped Spitfire to the best advantage, intending to sell her as a potential slaver in Cuba or Savannah and with the profit purchase a ship better able to profit from the carriage of cargo, but there seemed no reason not to ride the wave of anxiety over the political troubles in New England, particularly as there were those who recalled Captain Kite’s daring action in the last war when, greatly out-numbered, he had taken the French corsair La Malouine.