Shores of Barbary (The Duty and Destiny Series, Book 12)

Home > Historical > Shores of Barbary (The Duty and Destiny Series, Book 12) > Page 6
Shores of Barbary (The Duty and Destiny Series, Book 12) Page 6

by Andrew Wareham


  Frederick was pleased – he liked both and could only trust they might be made happy.

  “I must speak with the First Lord again, Mr Russell, to inform him of my intentions, and to ask what forces or powers I have at my command. If I am to search warehouses, then a file or two of Marines might come in very handy.”

  The First Lord could not assist. Marines could not be used on land, it seemed; the military had no powers to search or detain civilians on shore. If warehouses were to be searched, then the constable must apply for his warrant and the Sheriff of the County should supply his officers to make the actual entry to the premises. In an extreme, and only if the magistrates could be persuaded of the need, then the Revenuers could take action – but there must be a certainty of discovering smuggled alcohol or tobacco or tea.

  “It is most vital, Sir Frederick – I cannot emphasize this too much – that you do not overstep your powers and render yourself liable to action in the High Court of Justice. The judges will have no mercy, I can assure you, and would fine you massively and cast you into damages as well. A single action at law might see you fifty thousand pounds out of pocket – and the Admiralty has no legal power to reimburse you such monies. If you make a search, then you must do so in the absolute certainty that the goods you seek are present and may be shown to be unlawful. Remember that the smugglers may often be wealthy men – it is not unheard of for them to be numbered among the Beaks on the Magistrates’ Bench!”

  “You are implying then, my Lord, that if I request a warrant from the Magistrates to make the search of any premises, then the owners of such a place will know immediately. The warehouse will be empty by the time I get there.”

  “Exactly so, Sir Frederick. You might be able to force an entry if in hot pursuit, but not otherwise will you discover anything.”

  “Then, my Lord, I must simply make a noise and, under cover of the hullabaloo, very quietly say that they are becoming embarrassing to the Crown and must at least tone down their actions, or the government will alter the law of the land, and not in the smugglers’ favour.”

  “Precisely so, Sir Frederick. You must walk a tightrope, as it were, highly visible and letting it be known that you are on the verge of taking drastic action. The smugglers must then hurriedly remind government that they are important to the well-being of the country – they will start speaking to each other again, and all will be well. I do not know if it has been mentioned to you, Sir Frederick, but any number of the German white wines reach England by way of Heligoland; we should not have a bottle of hock in the country was Bonaparte to have his wicked way. We must exercise discretion in our dealings with the merchants who trade the German Ocean, sir, for I can assure you that was the supply of wine to dry up, then the government would fall in very short order!”

  It seemed very probable to Frederick that the naval officer who cut off the valleys of the Rhine and Moselle would soon be cast upon half-pay – if he was lucky. He promised to be good.

  “I have taken a house in Whitby, my Lord and will move my family there in Spring. We shall spend part of the Season in Town, of course, and shift North thereafter. There is little to be done over winter, I suspect, other than perhaps to introduce myself to the Mayor and officials of the major towns of the North Coast, or some of them, at least.”

  “Ah! A clever ploy, Sir Frederick! You will thus inform them that there is to be a vigorous regime introduced after the winter storms have passed, and they will spread the news, quite properly.”

  “Just so, my Lord.”

  “I knew your appointment was a wise move, Sir Frederick. I shall take pains to include you in our plans for next year, sir. Might you wish to sail the Mediterranean once more, sir?”

  “I should much wish to do so, my Lord. I am not without ambition still. A commission into the waters of the Near East would offer the chance of distinction, I hope, my Lord. I find myself wishing to secure my future as well, and might be anxious to be remembered in London.”

  He could not say more clearly that he was ambitious for a peerage and for an office of profit under the Crown.

  “You are, of course, a member of Lord Alton’s branch of the Harris family, are you not, Sir Frederick.”

  “I am, my Lord, and very willing to aid him, quite possibly succeed him, in securing the family in its place in the nation.”

  That statement was in effect to offer the Alton interest to the government, just as soon as the current Lord Alton stepped down from Public Life.

  Frederick was aware that he had just compromised his independence, but he was content in the knowledge that he was no politician and lacked the talent ever to become such. Nonetheless, as the most distinguished member of the clan, he must either take a leading role or retire to the backwoods. By giving himself to the Tories he was retaining his importance and much of his power, for he would become one of the bigwigs of the Party, to be consulted and informed of all matters of importance, and he would be kept sweet by offers of government office to himself, and more importantly to Iain and Robert. Jane would be taken up when she came out and would find herself in a not insignificant place in Society. His followers and friends would be looked after as well – Sir Iain Jackman would enjoy a glittering career.

  He left the First Lord happy that he had taken a necessary and wise step for the protection of his family. His wound had come close to killing him, and he would never physically be quite the vigorous man that he had been; his actions, he believed, had protected his family in the new circumstances.

  He talked his actions over with Lord Turner, received his whole-hearted approbation.

  “You have provided for your family for the next generation at least, Sir Frederick. As you say, a wound such as you, and I to a lesser extent, have taken does change one’s whole outlook upon life. One becomes conscious of mortality, as I believe the expression runs. Death is no longer something that happens to other people. I must admire your actions, Sir Frederick!”

  Lord Turner now had a family to preserve, a healthy son, a source of amaze and delight to him; he was much in favour of the concept of the dynasty.

  The Mayor of Whitby was a remarkably fat gentleman, almost globular and putting Frederick in mind of the whales that had made the port’s fortunes. He was little taller than Frederick and weighed at least twice as much, all carried in a great, protuberant belly. He was still quite nimble and Frederick admired the ease with which he turned half-sideways to bring himself through Frederick’s front door.

  The butler, taken on with the house on a year’s hiring, announced the mayor in a portentous voice.

  “His Worship the Mayor of Whitby, Mr Jonathan Washington. Captain Sir Frederick Harris, bart., RN.”

  The introductions thus made, Frederick welcomed Mr Washington into his dwelling and begged him to take a seat.

  “Refreshments, Jerningham.”

  Bosomtwi and Kavanagh came in with the silver trays, as arranged, quietly reminding the rotund mayor that this was a naval house.

  The little cakes and white wines were very welcome – the mayor had expended much energy in propelling himself from carriage to front door and he was in need of replenishment.

  “Welcome to the old borough of Whitby, Sir Frederick. We are always pleased to greet distinguished men of the sea, being a notable port, as you know.”

  Frederick made his thanks, said how pleased he was that the mayor in person should have come to greet him on his first day in his present location.

  “I am to base myself and my family here from the spring, as you may know, Mr Washington. I am tasked to make myself busy on this coast, but there is little for me to do in winter. I am to protect the legitimate traders to Heligoland and the shores of the Baltic, and to take the most rigorous measures against the few rogues who seem to have surfaced on these shores. The Duke of Portland himself – the Prime Minister in person - has expressed his concern that cannon barrels have been seen to pass through Heligoland, sir!”

  The mayor exclai
med in horror – he could not imagine such wickedness.

  “There has also been some trade reported in muskets, powder and ball, Mr Washington, but these must, it is believed, be going to the hands of the Poles in their unending quest for independence. One can only feel sympathy for the oppressed peoples of the world, sir.”

  Like Sir Frederick, Mr Washington cared nothing for the Poles, but he was very happy to express his kindness for them.

  “What are you to do regarding these cannon, Sir Frederick?”

  “A good question, Mr Washington. I fear I must seek warrants to search warehouses reported to be holding unlawful goods, sir, though I do fully appreciate that this must at best inconvenience many an honest trader. The Duke in person has stated that there must be an Act of Parliament passed to permit the Revenuers and other lawful authorities to access without warrant any premises of interest to them.”

  Very few merchants carried no uncustomed goods on their inventory; the prospect of the authorities being granted free rein to enter any warehouse at any time was sufficient to chill the mayor’s heart.

  “I am certain that we may find an alternative to so un-English a proceeding, Sir Frederick. We have a good three months before the weather improves in spring and the German Ocean becomes friendly to traders again. I am sure we can discover some half-way house, some more satisfactory expedient.”

  Frederick was sure that they would, could not imagine anything more desirable. He turned the conversation to whaling and the Greenland Fishery, the source of the town’s wealth. From there the conversation turned to the noble Captain Cook, one of the greatest sons of Whitby, even if somewhat adoptive.

  “A fine seaman and a true gentleman, sir. I have often regretted that I could never have met him.”

  “Well said, Sir Frederick. May I make so bold as to ask of your plans now, sir?”

  “A few days in Whitby, to restore my strength, for I still tire quickly when travelling, you know, Mr Washington. My doctors assure me that I shall recover my full strength in the next six months, but it takes time.”

  “It must, Sir Frederick. So cruel a wound as it is, I am perhaps surprised that you remain in employment, sir.”

  “Ah, Mr Washington, I must, you see, for my name is very close to the top of the List, and I am anxious to remain known at the Admiralty.”

  “Blue at the mizzen, indeed, Sir Frederick. I understand your anxiety, sir. Do you hope to return to sea, sir?”

  “I hope I may. I think it not impossible, Mr Washington. A success on these shores would ensure my further employment.”

  It was not the subtlest of threats, Mr Washington thought; he racked his brain for a means of satisfying Sir Frederick’s needs without bankrupting himself and every other merchant with a finger in the less legal pies. There were ways, he thought.

  “It is cannon barrels that seem to upset the government, you say, Sir Frederick?”

  “Very much so, sir. Almost uniquely so, one might say.”

  “I shall pass the word along our shores, Sir Frederick, over the winter, and I am quite certain that action will result.”

  “I am to go north eventually, to Newcastle at least, Mr Washington. I hope to find equally cooperative gentlemen there.”

  He would, Mr Washington assured him, not mentioning that he would send his own son, post-haste next morning, to pass the word that the gentlemen connected with smuggling should draw their horns in. He did not himself know where the cannon were moving to, but that trade must stop for the year to come. He had exchanged letters with His Worship the Mayor of Newcastle in the past; between them they should be able to pressure all but the most obdurate of the Gentlemen of the Coast. Those who would not be persuaded must be informed on and sent to the gallows, sacrificed for the well-being of the greater community. It could be done. It must be done – they did not want some blundering sailor-man interfering with long-established trade routes out of the East Coast. There was a war coming with America – and that would bring any number of opportunities to adventuresome traders into the Baltic; they must not be careless now.

  The gentlemen parted on the best of terms, each much looking forward to working with the other in spring.

  Frederick thought he had done rather well in this first experience of negotiation with powerful local figures; he had pressed his point without seeming to be an overbearing bully, he thought.

  The mayor left debating whether he should raise the coast in protest against the government sending its naval Hectors to terrorise honest tradespeople; had it been peacetime, he would certainly have done so, he thought, but in time of war it was wiser to be cautious. It would not be difficult for the government to raise the cry of treason, and easy enough to discover evidence of money placed in the hands of Bonaparte’s people – for the bribes still had to be paid in every port, whoever the master there might be. He would not even speak sternly to his local Member of Parliament, though he might perhaps neglect to send him his present at his next birthday, just as a hint that all was not well – but he must not be too vigorous in his complaints.

  The mayor called the burgesses of Whitby into conclave – every man of them was a merchant or shipowner, often both.

  “We have a naval captain sent to interfere with our trade, gentlemen. He is a clumsy man of the sea, with no concept of how to go on ashore. One Sir Frederick Harris, not unknown to the newssheets, and who rubs shoulders with the low beasts of so-called High Society. It will be wise to treat him with some care. He is to become resident in town from the spring, his family in his company. There is, it would seem, and this I was unaware of, some trade in cannon barrels crossing the German Ocean. This is likely to embarrass us all.”

  Mr Washington peered around the room, noting those who would not meet his eye, satisfying himself that the accusation was true. There were men present who showed very uncomfortable at the mention of big guns.

  “I do not think that I am stepping out of my place when I simply say that this trade must stop, gentlemen. It is treasonable, and taints us all. We all know that in the past Government has had no hesitation in hanging men of our sort who have been shown to cause offence. It is not so long since we were accused of Jacobite sympathies and paid massive fines while some of our grandfathers dangled at the gibbet.”

  There were gloomy nods round the room. The Old Religion had been strong in parts of the North Country and many families had been seen as convenient victims, to set an example for the country as a whole. Add to that, they were not poor men and Kings tended to spend more money than they earned; fines had been very welcome sources of income, might well be again.

  “There must be no more of this illicit trade, Mr Washington.”

  Eyebrows rose around the great table as the speaker was identified as the brother of a middling ironmaster, one who was known to have cast a few barrels to arm merchant ships.

  “You are correct, Mr Jackson.”

  “The word should be passed along the coast, I believe, Mr Washington, and all should be made right by spring.”

  “It should indeed.”

  Frederick would have been delighted had he been aware of the meeting and of the immediate success of his diplomacy.

  The family travelled to Whitby after just a few weeks of the Season, sufficient to be recognised as members of Society and to grace a number of entertainments with their presence. Iain found himself to be invited to join the company of a number of the elder children of those assembled in Town, made some useful acquaintances, or so his father informed him.

  “Men and women of prominence, twenty years from now, who will share your acquaintance, or not know you at all. Better to part of their sets, Iain, than to be an outsider.”

  Presented to him as a matter of duty, Iain had no hesitation in playing his part.

  At Whitby, Iain confided to his father that he had no great love for Town existence.

  “There are no miles of countryside to ride, sir. There is no sea to view, to occasionally sail upon. I cannot
find any great love for unending streets, sir.”

  “Nor me, but it is in London that power dwells, and we must either share that power, or knuckle under to it. It is an old saying that one can be a hammer or a nail. The nail does the useful work in pinning one’s house together, but the hammer wields the power.”

  Iain was much struck by the expression, decided that he too would prefer to be a hammer.

  “I shall mention that to Martha when next we see the Keartons, sir. We are not far from Leeds, I believe.”

  “We are close indeed, Iain, and shall certainly pay them a visit. More than one, perhaps. They might be inclined to sample the bracing air of Whitby in the hot part of the summer.”

  That seemed excellent to the boy.

  Frederick found that the illicit trade to Heligoland had greatly diminished and informed the Admiralty that there was no need to despatch extra cutters and brigs to patrol the coast. He was inclined to the view that all that had been required had been an explanation of the foolishness of their actions to unthinking member of the merchant community, said so in his reports.

  The end of July brought a Marine messenger, sent north in an Admiralty cutter to bring him his new orders.

  Book Twelve: The Duty

  and Destiny Series

  Chapter Three

  “I am made, Elizabeth! I am to raise my flag, Blue at the Mizzen!”

  Her husband had been home for almost two years; she supposed that made her lucky, better-off than the bulk of naval wives, perhaps.

  “I am so pleased, sir. Now there is another ladder to slowly climb until, eventually, you are Admiral of the Fleet.”

 

‹ Prev