Fletcher's Fortune

by John Drake

  “’Ere,” says she, at last, “you ain’t never done this before, have you?”

  “No,” says I.

  “Well ... no matter, my duck,” says she kindly, “that don’t matter at all. Not at all it don’t. We all have to start sometime, don’t we?” And she leaned forward and lifted my chin and kissed me.

  If I live to be a thousand I shall never forget that moment. This time, such a thrill of pleasure ran through me as I would never have dreamed possible. Then bit by bit, and inch by inch, she wriggled and moved and unbuckled and unbuttoned, until nothing was between us and her skin lay hot against mine. Finally, and skilful as any helmsman, she guided me deep inside her, and I damn near unhorsed her with the frantic bucking of my first love-making.

  And not more than ten minutes after, I had reloaded and run out again, and she was holding on hard and leaning back against my knees and laughing fit to bust as I drove at it again. And there wasn’t one bit of embarrassment that time.

  The following days passed in one great spree of drink and women, as I got my education rounded off as a seafaring man. And so it went on, while the money that had entered the ship passed through the temporary possession of the crew, to its predestined home with the ladies of the town and the Jew pedlars who came aboard with them, bringing all the cheap and flashy goods that sailors love to buy. I guess it took from the Wednesday to the following Sunday for Phiandra to be picked clean. To the seamen, money was a thing that came out of the blue and was there to be spent in a monstrous debauch.

  By Sunday the merchants and most of the women had gone. All that was left were some cheap cranky watches from the Jews, some powerful memories and a few cases for the surgeon’s mercury. I say most of the women were gone, for some fifty or sixty stayed aboard of their own free will. Some really were the wives of men aboard ship and were making the best of this opportunity to visit their men. And some were girls who had taken a fancy to sweethearts who they were reluctant to leave just yet. To my sorrow, Polly Grimshaw was not one of these. In those few days I had fallen for her something powerful and I wanted to keep her for ever. I wanted her for her sparkling eyes and her rich black hair and the shudder that ran down my spine when she laughed.

  “I’ll come back and marry you, Poll ... ” says I. “I’ll look after you ... ”

  “Course you will, my duck,” says she, not without sympathy even though she’d heard those words a thousand times before. And then she was over the side and into a boat and the boatman shoving off. He set sail to catch a shoreward breeze and I climbed into the rigging for a last sight of her as she disappeared.

  I wept bitterly. Not only had I lost my love but she had cleaned me out as thoroughly as the dullest, stupidest man in the ship. She had pierced my ingrained caution with money and carried off my pay and all my hard-earned profits from rum and baccy. Me! She had done this to me! Still, there was always the reserve of stores laid aside by me and the Bosun. I dried my tears and went off to find him. It was time to set about converting them into cash.

  Fortunately we were soon thrown into the hands of the very people to expedite this piece of business. With the whores mostly out of the ship, Captain Bollington re-emerged, anxious to set the ship’s repairs in motion. To the best of my knowledge he took no part in the orgy and let it run its course, as he had planned.

  And soon there was a busy coming and going of dockyard officials, tradesmen and craftsmen of every description. Our damage below decks was made good, new stores were taken aboard and, finally, Phiandra was lashed alongside a sheer hulk rigged with huge spars to support the foremast while they restepped it securely against the keel.

  Among all the tradesmen who came aboard, it was not hard for me to spot a likely customer and I impressed the Bosun still further by negotiating better terms for our stores than ever he’d dreamed possible. In fact it entirely shifted the balance of my relationship with him. He was so dazzled by the prospect of endless deals of this kind, that ever after, he was more like my employee than my officer though, of course, I remained respectful towards him. Common sense dictated that from a novice to a veteran Warrant Officer. It would have been so easy, and so stupid, to upset him and spoil everything. But I was always polite and as a result he did just precisely whatever I wanted. (I offer that as a lesson to you youngsters.)

  The first fruit of this new situation was a wonderful opportunity to get back to that other, and better, life that I’d been torn away from. You’ll note that I’d prospered somewhat aboard Phiandra and I’d found the means to make some money. But selling off ship’s stores, although a good thing in its own right, was small beer compared with what I could achieve ashore. And there was a darker side. Lurking always in the back of my mind, was the fear of what I’d done aboard Bullfrog. So the sooner I was out of the Navy’s clutches the better. Then the world would be mine. I could change my name, and go where nobody knew me, and bury for ever the chance of being brought to account for Bosun Dixon. After all, I thought, there was no special value in the name of Jacob Fletcher.

  20

  I now see that you were only too right in your denunciation of that woman. Should my wife learn what I have done, then the torments of hell will be mine.

  (Letter of 1st April 1793 to Mr Richard Lucey from Mr Nathan Pendennis at Clerk’s Court, London.)

  *

  On Sunday 31st March, nearly a week after he had sent Edward Lucey home to his father in disgrace, Mr Nathan Pendennis attended divine service at St Giles’s Church. Usually Pendennis took much pleasure in going to church. He paid keen attention to the sermon and enjoyed the music if there were any. But today he was distracted and could not settle.

  The fact was that he missed young Lucey. The work that Pendennis had so much enjoyed when there were two of them, had become a burden for him alone. There was nobody to talk over the day’s events with. There was no admiring audience to compliment him on his skill and energy. And despite Pendennis’s efforts, the Admiralty still had not given up Jacob Fletcher. Pendennis had finally come to believe what the Admiralty Clerks kept telling him, namely that Fletcher was in a ship at sea and any further action must wait upon the return of that ship to port.

  As he sat in his private pew (reserved for one shilling a week for his use alone), oblivious to the service and wondering what reliance might be placed on the promises of assistance that he had secured, he noticed that a lady was trying to catch his eye. He was struck by the piercing sweetness of her face and the elegance of her clothes. Obviously this was a lady of considerable consequence and impeccable respectability.

  But he did not know the lady, and could imagine no reason why she should wish to make his acquaintance. He sighed — even as a young man Pendennis had never drawn the attention of fine ladies — and at first he thought he must be mistaken, so he looked about to see who it might be that she was really looking at.

  But the lady persisted, and nobody else returned her glances, and Pendennis realised that she really was trying to catch his eye. Fat, middle-aged and entombed in marriage as he was, his heart beat a little faster. He risked a brief, courteous nod towards the lady to acknowledge her. She seemed satisfied with that and sat throughout the rest of the service in dignified attention to the Parson. Afterwards, as Pendennis left the church, he saw her waiting for him in the street. To his alarm, and yet delight, she approached, and with every dainty step his fascination grew. At a distance she appeared an unusually fine woman, but close to, she took his breath away.

  His head whirled with emotions. He was no man for adventures. He was a serious man, a man of business. But within all true men (even Nathan Pendennis) there hides a tiny spark of hope where beautiful women are concerned. And that spark is not quenched by age, nor dignity, nor anything short of death. So poor Pendennis experienced afresh all the sensations of his youth, when first he fancied himself to be in love with his future wife. He saw that the lady was not young, but none the less she was such a woman as he’d never imagined. Such skin! Such eyes!
Such mounds of lustrous black hair, such a delicacy of scent! And then she spoke.

  “Sir,” she said, with fluttering eyes and every delicate sign of embarrassment, “pray do not think ill of me for thus speaking to you without introduction, but my desperate situation permits of no other course. Are you not Mr Pendennis of Polmouth? For if you are he, then I cast myself upon your mercy ... ”

  The voice was like the rest. It caressed the ear and intoxicated the mind. The sound alone would have won his heart, let alone the power of the words themselves. Before even she’d explained what peril she was in, or how he might help her, Pendennis was wringing his brains to find any way that he might please her, to find any way to lift the despair from that angelic face — he was hooked, gaffed and landed.

  “Madam,” he said, “I am indeed Nathan Pendennis of Polmouth and I am entirely at your service, but how do you know me?”

  “Sir,” she said, “forgive me! For I have contrived to have you pointed out by one who knows you. I am here on purpose to meet you and I beg that you will grant me enough of your time to explain my predicament.”

  “Your servant, ma’am,” he said, and looked at the bustle and clamour of the street. “But here?”

  “I have a carriage,” says she. “Will you come to my house?”

  So Pendennis went with her. And before she’d gone two steps, the paving being rough, the lady accidentally stumbled and Pendennis was forced to draw her close to save her from a fall. Thus together they went up into a closed coach with a pair of matched horses and a liveried coachman on the box.

  Once inside, Pendennis never noticed which way they went, for the lady began to sob gently and looked to him for support. All too soon, they arrived at a house in Dulwich Square, a new construction with five floors and a basement, all stuccoed in white and doubtless costing a fortune. A servant opened the door as they alighted, and the lady clung to Pendennis’s arm. As they entered he could only gape at the magnificence of the furnishings and decorations all around.

  “Welcome to my house, Mr Pendennis,” she said, and Pendennis finally thought to ask a vital question.

  “But who are you, ma’am?” he said. “What do you want of me?” She faced him with a sudden look of devilment in her eyes.

  “I am Lady Sarah Coignwood,” she said, and watched him closely.

  Pendennis stopped in his tracks. It was like being snatched from a warm fireside and plunged into an icy pool. He drew himself up and spoke with all the dignity he could muster.

  “Ma’am,” he said, “I cannot remain here. We may soon be upon opposing sides in the courts. I support the Fletcher interest!” The shadow of a laugh passed across her face, then her manner changed like the turning of a page in a book.

  “Sir,” she said, looking into his eyes, “a cruel injustice is being worked upon me. Only you can save me and I beg that you hear me out. I appeal to your honour as a Christian gentleman.”

  Pendennis was only a man. He dithered for a second then followed where she led. They entered a room which was like her. It was furnished and dressed to her personal taste. To Pendennis, curtains were curtains and chairs were chairs, but even he could see that everything in that room was designed to please the senses. So in he went, as eager a fly as ever followed the spider into the web.

  She sat him down on a sofa the size of a wagon, closed the doors and came to sit beside him. The worst of it was that every fibre of Pendennis’s reason shrieked at him that he was doing wrong. He knew in his bones that he should get up and run while he could. But he hadn’t the strength.

  “Will you take wine, Mr Pendennis?” she said.

  “No, ma’am,” he said, “it is not my custom.” But she pressed a brimming glass into his hand, and poured words into his ear. Afterwards he could never recall quite what she’d said, but at the time he experienced the delight of being told secrets that were only for intimate friends.

  Several glasses of wine later, Pendennis was red faced and thick of speech. His lips were wet and he was no longer master of himself.

  “You must believe me,” she said, taking his hand and edging closer.

  “Yes, yes ... ” he said, shivering all over. Her words said one thing, but her every movement said something else.

  “Bless you, sir,” she said, and clasped his hand to her bosom and kissed it. She looked up at him and smiled like the houris in the Muslim paradise. Pendennis’s last reserve crashed down like the walls of Jericho. He seized her and kissed her, passionately and longingly.

  Even as he did it he feared a rebuff, but to his wonderment she welcomed his advances and responded in ways he’d never dreamed of. She twined her limbs around him and said such things in his ears and did such things to his body that he was engorged with lust. He tore at her garments and pressed his lips to her breasts, her belly, her thighs, and all the time the gleaming flesh writhed and the lovely face smiled and invited more.

  Pendennis staggered to his feet, the better to throw off his clothes, hopped from one foot to the other, hurled his breeches over the sofa and pressed down upon her body to enter in. He gasped in pleasure as she seized him, to ease his path he thought, then choked in agony as ten sharpened fingernails drove viciously into the tenderest part of a man’s entire body, shedding drops of blood on the sofa.

  And so, with Pendennis’s passion brought to an abrupt halt, Lady Sarah screamed loudly and sprung her trap. Without a second’s delay, the doors burst open and in rushed half a dozen toughs led by a young gentleman in the most foppish clothes imaginable; he looked more like a parrot than a man.

  “Mother!” he cried.

  “Victor!” she cried. “Help me! Help me!”

  “Villain!” he hissed, and pointed dramatically at Pendennis. “Seize that man!” and the whole pack fell upon their victim and dragged him dazed and wondering to his feet. Pendennis expected a beating but no blows were struck. Rather, they held him with his arms pinioned while Victor Coignwood attended to his mother.

  He draped her in a robe to cover her nakedness, though she’d been standing in perfect composure with not a stitch on, even with all those men goggling at her. She seemed not to care, and stared steadily at Pendennis, in triumph. In horrible dismay, and in pain from his injury, Pendennis realised what a trick had been played on him. Swiftly, his feelings turned to anger.

  “Damn you all!” he cried. “You shall all suffer for this!”

  “And you shall hang for it,” said Victor. “You shall be taken up on a charge of rape.”

  “What?” said Pendennis. “Rape? With this trollop? By Heaven, I see it all! You led me on of a purpose, you jade!”

  “And how much leading was required, sir?” she asked. “Did I bind you and force you to my will? I think these good fellows will testify to your actions.” Pendennis looked at the “good fellows” and saw a choice sweeping of the gutters of London.

  “What, ma’am?” he said in contempt. “These scum? Brought in a penny a head I shouldn’t wonder! And had they come in a second earlier they’d have found you with your whore’s legs clasped about my neck, urging me to it!”

  “Filthy beast!” said Victor, and struck Pendennis across the face.

  “How dare you, sir!” roared Pendennis. “Don’t you know I’m a magistrate and Lord Mayor of Polmouth? I’ll have the law on you for this!”

  “So you are a magistrate, are you?” said Lady Sarah.

  “Indeed, I am ma’am!” he said.

  “Then tell me this, Mr Magistrate. What chance of acquittal would you give to a man caught in the act of rape, by seven witnesses?” She paused to let Pendennis think that over, and as he stood there in his shirt, with his breeches on the other side of the room, the peril of his situation began to come home to him. Lady Sarah smiled and continued.

  “And even if some miracle should bring about your acquittal,” she said, “what would the good people of Polmouth think of their Lord Mayor were he to stand trial for rape? Think of it, Mr Pendennis. Your neighbours would
read the details to one another from the newspapers, and you would be caricatured in every print shop in the land. Perhaps you have a wife? Perhaps you have children? What should they think of their Papa?”

  Pendennis hung his head. She had him. No punishment that the law could exact could scourge him worse than this. He might well defeat her in the courts but he could never save his reputation.

  “Damn you,” he said, in a low voice.

  “Ah!” she said, “I perceive a change of mood.” She turned to her ruffians. “You may go,” she said, “but wait outside.” And they trooped out, grinning at one another. “Now, Mr Pendennis,” she said, “those fellows are mine to command. They will say what I tell them, or hold their tongues. And there is still a way for you to leave this house a free man.” Hope surged in Pendennis’s breast. He knew that some further dishonour must be involved, but he could not help himself. He only had to imagine for one moment what his wife would say and do should ever this story come out.

  “Name it!” he said.

  “It is simple,” she said. “All that has happened here can be forgotten on certain conditions ... You shall abandon all efforts on behalf of Mr Jacob Fletcher. You shall pester the Admiralty no more. You shall withdraw your support of my husband’s Will of 1775. You shall persuade the Luceys to abandon all their actions in the matter and you shall tell me everything you know.”

  Pendennis ground his teeth and clenched his fists in anger. But he could see no way out. He looked at Lady Sarah and her son Victor, now reclining at their ease on the very sofa where he had been shamed. They smiled at him with fathomless contempt. Suddenly his jaw dropped as a mystery was no more.

  “You devils!” he cried. “This is how you treated Edward Lucey!”

  “How clever of you, Mr Pendennis!” said Lady Sarah. “You are quite correct, except that in Mr Lucey’s case, I allowed things to run on a little longer, he being a surprisingly gifted young man — unlike your small and miserable self!” They laughed at him merrily and Pendennis shuddered with disgust.