The Privateersman

by The Privateersman (retail) (epub)

  ‘Captain Gray is in the Antilles, Mr Milton, in the Electra,’ Borthwick offered.

  ‘Then,’ said Milton drawing a sheaf of papers from his brief case, ‘we shall have to proceed in his absence. If you would all be seated.’

  They did as the attorney bid them and an awkward silence fell. Borthwick coughed nervously, then Milton began to read. Kite looked from the window. It was the same one through which, less than twelve hours earlier, he had peered at Bessie Ransden in her night attire. He yawned, still tired after the exertions and turmoil of the night. The room was hot after the chill outside where the sky looked now like a sheet of lead. A soft and persistent fall of snow had begun to transform the landscape. Milton’s voice droned over the testamentary clauses. The bulk of Tyrell’s fortune had gone to his wife, as was to be expected, but there were special provisions for his house-keeper and chief clerk, who were both left two thousand pounds ‘for their loyalty and long and untiring service. Mrs Ramsden rocked as if about to faint, uttered a heart-felt, ‘God bless my soul!’ and began to weep again.

  Borthwick, by contrast, remained unmoved. He was charged with the conditional duty of advising Sarah ‘upon the disposal’ of ‘the testator’s commercial assets in their entirety, entirely freeing my wife from any encumbrance whatsoever’. There was an exception to this, referring to the shares Tyrell had in various ships belonging to the ports of Newport, Providence and Bristol in the Colony of Rhode Island which were to be made over to Captain Edward Spenser Gray who was to enjoy of dispose of these as he saw fit on the sole condition that annually, or upon disposal, he paid five per centum of the profits raised thereby, net of all charges and taxes, to the trust mentioned in the next article.

  Milton himself, in return for a legacy additional to his charges of one thousand five hundred pounds and an annuity of five per centum from an invested sum of five thousand pounds of which he and Sarah were the trustees, was ‘to advise my wife as to the best manner of drawing income from the residue of my estate’. An additional provision was laid upon this trust, however, and at the mention of his name, Kite stirred from his brown study.

  ‘…Providing only,’ Milton read, ‘that this be in accordance with the wishes of Captain William Alexander Kite whom I charge with the duty, laid upon his honour as a gentleman, of ensuring as far as it lies within his power, of the future security, happiness and health of my wife…’

  Milton looked up as the irrepressible Mrs Ramsden muttered in surprise and delight, expressing her pleasure and leaning forward and patting Sarah’s knee before realising the unseemly nature of her presumption and flushing to the roots of her white hair. Sarah had gone deathly pale and had, Kite thought, been about to interrupt Milton and ask a question, but the attorney ploughed doggedly on.

  ‘At the discretion of the said trustees of their heirs or successors, the funds shall be put at the disposal of any such children that my wife may have after my death.’

  Milton paused, then looked up. ‘Are there any questions?’ he queried.

  ‘When did Arthur sign that will, Mr Milton?’ Sarah asked, her face pale, but her voice level and controlled.

  ‘The day after Captain Kite sailed for Jamaica, Ma’am.’

  ‘I see.’

  Milton folded the will and looked round. ‘I shall of course communicate with Captain Gray, Mrs Tyrell, as soon as that becomes possible.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘May I ask something, Ma’am?’ They turned at the sound of Borthwick’s voice.

  ‘Of course, Mr Borthwick, what is it?’

  ‘The question is to Mr Milton, Ma’am, but closely concerns yourself…’

  ‘Well, sir,’ commanded Milton somewhat imperiously, ‘do go on.’

  ‘What is to happen about bringing the murderers of my late master to justice, sir?’

  ‘It is a question that occurs to me too, sir,’ added Kite, lending weight to Borthwick’s query.

  ‘I think sir, gentlemen, giving the state of the country, we should find not a witness…’

  ‘But there were a hundred people…’ Sarah breathed incredulously.

  ‘You know it was Rathburne, do you not, sir?’ Kite asked.

  ‘I know only what I can get people to give as evidence in court, Captain Kite.’

  ‘I will give evidence in court,’ Kite said.

  ‘I know Captain, and perhaps, just perhaps, we might find another dozen brave souls to do the same, but you will find three times that number who will swear on oath that John Rathburne or any other person was at their house enjoying dinner or a game of faro…’

  ‘But what of the burning…?’

  ‘Oh they will have seen a burning, they may have been among the numbers of men who turned out to fling buckets over the adjacent property to prevent the conflagration from spreading, but no-one will admit to having seen Mr Tyrell, begging your pardon Ma’am, other than that he must have been within the warehouse when it caught fire and may himself had contributed to the ignition.’ Milton shook his head. ‘It will be the Gaspée affair all over again.’

  ‘So there is no redress?’

  ‘You may try, Captain, but you will risk the most public and damaging humiliation.’ Milton looked pointedly at Borthwick and Ramsden. ‘If I might speak with you and Mrs Tyrell alone…’

  ‘Of course, Mr Milton, I only wished to raise the matter out of respect for my late master,’ Borthwick rose, flustered and unhappy.

  ‘That is quite understood, Mr Borthwick, and entirely to your credit. Your late master felt keenly that your loyalty was exemplary and he had provided for you most generously.’ It was a cruel and pointed dismissal, Kite thought, but if Borthwick felt it, he did not show it, as he led Bessie Ramsden from the room and closed the door behind them.

  ‘I am sorry that Borthwick chose to raise the issue, Ma’am,’ Milton said, turning to Sarah, ‘I was intending to touch upon he subject myself when we were alone. I have in fact some information that was laid before me this morning referring to this very fact.’ Milton shuffled the papers before him and lifted a single sheet of paper which had been folded as a sealed letter. ‘I shall not mince my words, for it pains me to be associated in any way with this sort of transaction but this note,’ he held it up, ‘which is naturally unsigned, was delivered to me early this morning. It clearly states that any attempt to persuade the justices to pursue, and I quote, “any line of enquiry which seeks to suggest the unfortunate death of the Tory merchant Arthur Tyrell was anything other than an accident, will not succeed.” As I said there is no signature, but there is a sub-scription which reads, “By Order of the Committee of American Patriots of the State of Rhode Island,” whoever, whatever and wherever that may be.’ Milton paused, then added, ‘by burying your husband, Mistress Tyrell, you have in part aided the Patriots’ desire to have his death considered an accident. Now an inquest will be merely a formality, probably over within a few days and all but yourselves heartily glad of it.’ The attorney stopped again, allowing the import of his words to sink in.

  Kite sighed. ‘It was my idea to have Tyrell buried immediately, the prospect of him lying…’

  ‘No it was not you, William. I wished it, you merely arranged it. That you anticipated my wishes is not important. This has been terrible but I believe Arthur anticipated something like this occurring. Indeed,’ Sarah said, lowering his voice, ‘I might even consider that he precipitated it, for he was far from conciliatory to the radical faction.’

  Milton bowed his head in assent. ‘Sadly I think that is true, Ma’am.’

  Sarah drew herself up. ‘Thank you, Mr Milton. There is much to be done. You will understand, I hope, that Arthur was aware that Captain Kite…’ she held out her hand toward Kite and he crossed the room and took it, standing beside her as she confronted the attorney. ‘That Captain Kite and I are not…’ she faltered, squeezing Kite’s hand.

  ‘Ma’am, I quite understand,’ Milton said hurriedly. ‘You and Captain Kite will forgive me if I say t
hat few men could be immune from your attraction, Mrs Tyrell. May I congratulate you both…’

  ‘I’d be obliged if you will not fan whatever scandal is currently abroad, Mr Milton,’ Kite said, ‘this remains a matter of some delicacy, notwithstanding the provisions in the will which make it quite clear that nothing underhand was afoot behind Mr Tyrell’s back.’

  Milton smiled. ‘I beg your pardon, Captain, but that is a delightful pun.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Kite frowned, sensing he was being made a fool of.

  ‘You said, sir, “nothing underhand was afoot”… but no matter, there is something more that I have to communicate with you, something of singular moment.’

  Milton rummaged in his brief case again and drew out a package wrapped in brown paper which he handed to Kite who letting go of Sarah’s hand took it, sat down again and reached into his pocket for his pen-knife. Cutting the sealed string, Kite noted it was of a surprising weight and gave off a familiar chink. He began to unwrap it.

  Inside the paper, was a cloth which, once unfolded, revealed a small silver snuff box, two soft leather purses, one larger and heavier than the other, and a letter. Slitting the seal Kite unfolded and read Tyrell’s neat and flowing hand out loud.

  ‘“My dear Kite, you know the matter of which we spoke touching my wife, Sarah. I have given her into your charge because she”…’ Kite paused and looked from Sarah to Milton.

  ‘Would you wish me to leave, Ma’am?’

  Sarah shook her head. ‘No, I am not ashamed of having a witness. Do go on William.’

  ‘Very well. “Because she has long regarded you with more than mere affection and, now that you too are alone in the world, I hope that you will find it in your heart to make her happy. Should either of you not consider this reasonable or practicable, should some rift come between you, I only ask that you do not part in anger. For this reason, beyond binding you to her insofar as your advice may help her, I have made no special provision in my will. You are not without means and I should not wish to sully a friendship and a business relationship with fiscal co-ercion which would, I know, be anathema to yourself. I therefore wish you to have my snuff box. It was a present from Mulgrave and is supposed to have been fashioned by a Spanish craftsman out of silver from the Inca mines. You are also to have my cane, my small sword and my brace of Cranston pistols. They are for duelling, but I have never had to use them. God grant that you do not, but the times are growing troubled and respect for order is being drowned by men who declare themselves Patriots. You are also to have the accompanying sum of money in the larger of the two purses, which, like the Cranstons, you may need for contingent expenses and are passed to you for that purpose. The smaller purse is to go to Sarah, should she need funds separate from your own. I wish you both God’s blessings, and deem myself fortunate to have met you and to have fallen in with a man of…” I am sorry, I cannot read anymore. Anyway, he signs himself off in a flattering and, by me, undeserved manner.’

  The three sat in silence for a moment, then Kite said, tapping his hip, ‘I have already availed myself of his hanger.’

  It was a lame jest but served its purpose. Milton rose, ‘I will put matters in train directly, Mrs Tyrell.’

  ‘Thank you Mr Milton, William, will you see Mr Milton out?’

  ‘Yes of course.’

  When the attorney had gone Kite went back into the withdrawing room. ‘I am at a loss,’ he said. ‘Quite overwhelmed.’

  Sarah sat quite still, staring into the middle distance.

  ‘Sarah,’ he said quietly. ‘Are you all right?’

  She looked at him. ‘What does it mean, William, to feel all right? I hardly know.’ The she seemed to shake her head. ‘You will stay here tonight, will you not? I could not bear to be separated from you again.’

  He nodded. ‘Of course I will stay, Sarah. But excuse me a moment. Zachariah and Jacob are still in the kitchen and I must attend to a few matters relative to my cargo.’

  ‘Of course. Please, ask Bessie for some tea.’

  In the kitchen Kite found a merry scene round the fire. Although not yet three in the afternoon it was as cosy as Christmas Eve, with Jacob and Harper occupying the fireside settle and Mr Borthwick, clearly the worse for a swift imbibing of rum, leaning across the table over which Mrs Ramsden presided. His entry produced a swift and guilty silence, but Kite was tolerant of their relaxation.

  ‘I am sorry to disturb you but Borthwick, can you tell me if any interest has been shown in our cargo?’

  The clerk shook his head. ‘No shur,’ he slurred, rousing himself. ‘I only had time to try two houses, but I don’t think we will find anything diff’rent tomorrow.’

  ‘Sell direct to the distillery,’ Kite suggested, but Borthwick shook his head.

  ‘’Tis all shewn up, shur,’ he went on. ‘The cargo’s tainted goods… Smells of the burning, shur. Take it to Boshton or New York.’

  Kite nodded. It was clear that he was going to make no progress tonight. He turned towards Harper and Jacob.

  ‘Do you two get back to the ship. Tell Mr Corrie I’ll be off in the morning.’

  ‘Aye, aye, sir.’ Harper rose, leant over and bussed Bessie Ramsden. ‘Thank you for the tea, Mrs Ramsden. You’ve a heart as big as my mother’s, and no mistake.’ Jacob grinned widely and the two drew on their boots and coats. Then they left, a swirl of snow and cold air sweeping into the hot kitchen as they did so.

  ‘Bessie, I don’t think Mr Borthwick had better go home alone. Have we a bed we can put him in tonight?’

  The housekeeper grinned. ‘Leave him to me sir. Lord love you sir, if the old master could see us now there’d have been some strong words said, and no mistake!’

  Kite grinned and nodded. ‘Can you find something for us to eat? That ham was most tasty.’

  ‘You leave it to me, Captain Kite. You go and join Mistress Sarah and leave it to me…’

  Kite rejoined Sarah in the withdrawing room where he unbuckled Tyrell’s hanger, lay it on a chair and made up the fire, waving aside Sarah’s admonition that he should call one of the servant girls. ‘That isn’t necessary Sarah, I was making up fires before I even blacked boots.’

  ‘We are going to have to leave this place,’ she said looking about her. ‘I do not want to stay here.’

  ‘No, I can understand that. I think the best course of action we can take is, once I have discharged this cargo, to try for a lading for Antigua. We will be close enough for the mail to allow us to settle your affairs here, while being away from all the fractious trouble that is brewing in this unhappy part of the world.’

  ‘Milton will sell the house; he may even buy it himself. He always admired it and told Arthur he liked it.’

  ‘There will be much of that sort of thing if people are terrorised for remaining loyal. Milton and his fence-sitting fraternity will pick all the cherries hanging in the garden.’

  ‘That is a quaint fancy,’ Sarah said.

  ‘That is the first time I have seen you smile properly today and I am very glad for it.’

  ‘And I am glad you are here, William. I keep trying to imagine what it would have been like without you.’

  And from the memories of the past hours they bent their thought to the future, making plans amid the strange circumstances of their present lives. They had adjourned to the chilly dining room to address the rump of Mrs Ramsden’s ham when the pounding came on the door.

  Kite opened it to find Jacob on the doorstep his eyes wide with alarm.

  ‘Sah, come quick! They am beating that damned drum again and Massah Harper says there will be more trouble!’

  ‘Hold hard, Jacob!’ Kite said, restraining the black man as he made to run off into the thick snow, ‘what is it to do with us?’

  ‘We had just got to the wharf, sah, when we saw groups of men hanging about and smelled trouble. Mister Harpera he say, “what’s this? More trouble brewing?” and a man over heard him and told us, hadn’t we heard? That damned En
glish captain, he was going to get his come-uppance in real Rhode Island style. Mister Harper, he said that was one helluva good idea and nodded to me and I understood that I was to get back to you, sah.’

  ‘The ship,’ Sarah said, coming into the hall behind him. ‘They mean the ship, William. First the Liberty, then the Gaspée, now the Wentworth!’

  Kite paused a moment, thinking fast. ‘Come in a moment, Jacob,’ he said, closing the door behind the negro who stood dripping on the wooden floor. ‘Sarah, get me those pistols of Arthur’s. Now, where did I put that sword?’ he dashed into the withdrawing room, picked up the hanger and buckled it on. Emerging again into the hall he took his coat from the peg and drove his arms into it. ‘Where is the Second Mate now, Jacob? D’you know?’

  ‘I reckon he’ll be awaiting for us, sah…’

  But just then a knocking came again at the door and Jacob opened it to reveal the figure of Zachariah Harper. Even in the lamplight Kite could see the blacked eyes and the contusion about his face. Harper grinned. ‘There were three of ‘em, sir. Only two ran away.’

  ‘There will be hell to pay if you’ve killed one of them,’ Kite said, then asked, ‘Any news?’

  Harper nodded. ‘Yes, I’m afraid it looks as though they’re assembling several boats. I think they’re going to take the ship.’

  ‘God rot them!’ Kite swore, jamming his hat upon his head as Sarah ran back down the stairs with the pistol barrels in her hands, offering him the butts.

  ‘I’ve loaded them, William.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He took the pistols, checked the pans, closed the frizzens and stuck them in his waistband.

  ‘Be careful, for God’s sake,’ she said, but he bent and kissed her.

  ‘I can’t promise to be back, but lock and bar all the windows and doors. The password is “Wentworth”.’ He turned to the two men. ‘Come, my lads!’ he said, then opened the door and led them into the falling snow.

  Sarah stood at the open door for a moment until they had disappeared into the swirling darkness. They she closed the door and locked it. Leaning her back against it for a few moments she stilled her beating heart. The pace of events was overwhelming, but no-one, neither Kite, nor herself, nor Bessie Ramsden, nor Borthwick, Milton, Jacob or the singularly ugly man named Zachariah, seemed to question what was already a fact: Captain Kite and the Widow Tyrell were already as one.