The Trojan Horse

by Christopher C Tubbs

  Back in his office, he had a mound of correspondence to get through. He was just getting stuck in when there was a knock at the door and Ridgley, the local head of intelligence came in.

  “The intrepid captain has returned, laden with prizes as usual, and hot for his next mission,” he crowed.

  “You are very chirpy if not more than a little annoying for this time of day,” Marty snapped.

  “Oh, come now. You are just grumpy because of all that paperwork,” Ridgley grinned.

  “You have me there, my friend. It’s one of the perils of command.” Marty sighed as he looked at the pile again.

  “Then you will thank me when I tell you of your next mission.”

  Marty’s ears pricked up at that.

  “Is that coffee in the pot over there?” Ridgley asked and went to the sideboard where Will had placed a fresh pot of coffee not ten minutes earlier. “Can I get you one?” he asked as he poured himself a cup, added milk, and half a spoon of sugar.

  Marty resigned himself to the fact that Ridgley would tell him in his own time and nodded, “Black, no sugar or milk.”

  Ridgley handed him his cup then made himself comfortable in one of the comfy chairs by the fire.

  “Will you join me?”

  Marty moved to the fire, sat, and gave Ridgley a flat look that said, ‘talk or you won’t like the consequences.’

  “You know that Arthur, now Viscount, Wellesley has taken command of the Army of the peninsula from that dolt Dalrymple?”

  Marty nodded and sipped his coffee, be damned if he would show impatience.

  “Well, he is busy consolidating the defences of Lisbon by building lines of fortifications- in total secrecy, I may add. The main aim is to protect his retreat and evacuation, should it become necessary as he is seriously outnumbered by the French and needs time to build, train, and otherwise prepare his army,” Ridgley explained.

  “Well, I am a sailor not an architect, so I’m not sure why he has asked for me to be recalled from Mauritius,” Marty stated, somewhat puzzled.

  “Ah now, but it’s not your sailing ability he’s interested in, but your sneaky, murdering, thieving, spying alter ego.”

  “Now, I wonder where he got that impression of me,” Marty smirked.

  “India, I imagine,” Ridgley responded, missing the sarcasm. “But whatever. The good General wants, no, demands, your services as his chief of intelligence.”

  “HIS WHAT?” Marty sputtered, snorting coffee out of his nose in shock.

  Ridgley grinned. He didn’t get one over his friend very often and this time he had done it in spades!

  Epilogue

  Hood walked into Canning’s office and pulled up a chair without waiting to be asked. He had an air that gave away the annoyance he was feeling and trying to hide.

  “Good afternoon Admiral, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

  “You heard that Prince George has been at it again?”

  Canning raised his eyebrows in question and asked,

  “Precisely at what?”

  “Trying to get young Stockley a Viscountcy,”

  “Is that a problem? I thought you would be pleased your protégée was honoured so,”

  “The timing is all wrong and will attract too much attention, it should wait until he makes admiral,” Hood grumbled.

  “Yes, I can see that, he is about to take on the job for Wellesley isn’t he, does the Prince know about that?”

  “No, it’s not something we publicise.”

  Canning bit back a comment at the implied sarcasm in that comment and thought for a while then said,

  “I have a meeting with the Prince tomorrow, let me talk to him, I might be able to persuade him that he will be doing his friend no favour by pushing this at this time.”

  Hood nodded and said,

  “Thank you. It’s not that Martin lacks support, his wife has made sure of that, but we don’t need to hand his enemies any ammunition.”

  “He is largely above all the politics, I understand,” Canning commented.

  “Yes, he frankly doesn’t give a damn about it. His wife, however, is acutely politically aware and has taken steps to protect him,” Hood replied his frown easing at the thought.

  “Just how many members of parliament does she ‘own’ now?” Canning asked.

  “A round half dozen at the last count, either because she has loaned them money or controls their business interests.” Hood answered. “She has Pitt worried as a couple of them control the votes of several rotten boroughs.”

  “That tallies with what I know,” Canning confirmed, “but she hasn’t exercised her power yet has she.”

  “The mere threat is enough,” Hood replied, “added to the fact that she controls several markets that could be used to make life very uncomfortable for the Government.”

  “And you have a very cautious Prime Minister when he is dealing with her,” Canning finished for him.

  “I think she is more frightening than Martin, truth be told.” Hood pondered.

  “Ah well that comes from her ancestry you know,” Canning grinned knowing he knew something Hood didn’t.

  Hood looked up intrigued.

  “Her great times four grandmother was Scarlett Browning.”

  “What the pirate?” hood exclaimed.

  “The very same,” Canning grinned, “that is where her family got the money that took them from being Yorkshire smugglers to legitimate merchants.”

  “Now there’s a story that I’d like to hear,” Hood grinned.

  “At another time, my friend. For now, let’s just see how Martin gets on in Portugal.” Canning concluded then asked, “can I tempt you with a Brandy?”

  Authors Note:

  Research, research, research. This book took as long to research as it did to write and that is all part of the fun! I achieved two goals and that was getting Marty together with Smith again and introducing him to Thomas Cochrane. Many of the influential authors that I have read have based their characters on Cochrane but there was one aspect of his career that none had covered as far as I could tell, and that was his fight with Admiral Gambier. The whole affair was brought about just as I have written it and the outcome too. Cochrane then went on to be further disgraced when he was found guilty of swindling the stock market, although whether he did or not is still open for debate.

  The attempts by the French to capture Marty are obviously total fiction but again a lot of research went into the locations. George Canning taking over from William Wickham is factual.

  If you are wondering about the epilogue and the reference to Caroline’s ancestor Scarlett, I must admit to slipping in a teaser. Her story is going to be told, just watch out for it next year.

  I love it when people send me emails and I always try and reply so feel free to send ideas or suggestions. And now I must thank my Beta readers who spend their time helping get as many of the errors out of the books as we can. Angela and Gary thank you!

  And now. . . .

  An excerpt from book 8

  Chapter 1: A New Role

  The Formidiable slipped into the mouth of the Tagus quietly and without fanfare, she fired no salute just dipped her flag to Admiral Smith’s flagship as she passed.

  Smith, who was on deck getting some exercise at the time, watched the frigate ghost by and smiled. He had talked extensively with Wellesley and agreed wholeheartedly with him on the appointment of their talented friend as his Head of Intelligence. The war that would be fought on the Peninsula would be as much about intelligence as the armies that would fight it.

  The world is changing, he thought as he raised a hand to the figure on the Formidiable’s quarterdeck, we need quick minds and to play the game better than the French. That not only meant having better intelligence gathering than them, but effective counterintelligence as well as demonstrated in Malta and London.

  It helps that Martin is the luckiest man I have ever met, he chortled, causing his flag lieutenant to ask,<
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  “Milord? Do you need something?”

  “No, nothing thank you, just thinking out loud.” He smiled as the Formidiable faded into the mist.

  A week before in his office. Marty had been nervous, everyone seemed to be gleefully dropping him in deep water and waiting to see if he floated or sank. Ridgley had followed up the revelation of his next mission with a packet of double sealed orders that had, “Not to be opened until at sea,” written on them. That was bad enough but there was a second written order to report to Admiral Collingwood ‘at his earliest convenience’.

  “Captain Stockley Sah!” Announced the marine guarding the Admiral’s door.

  “Enter!” ordered the Admiral.

  Marty stepped through and presented himself in front of the desk at which the Admiral sat going through a paper.

  Collingwood waved a hand at him,

  “sit down Captain if you please, I won’t be a minute.”

  Marty perched himself on the edge of one of the padded armchairs that faced the desk and waited.

  Collingwood scratched his signature on the paper with one of the new steel tipped pens, placed the paper in a tray to his right, after blotting it, and wiped the pens nib with a cloth before replacing it on a stand.

  “Sir Martin, it’s very good to see you again,” he smiled.

  “It’s good to see you as well sir, may I ask if your health has improved since last we spoke?” Marty replied politely.

  “It is at least not getting worse thanks to your Mr. Shelby,” Collingwood confirmed.

  More pleasantries were exchanged about wives and children until Collingwood cut to the chase,

  “You should have received some sealed orders by now,” it was a statement not a question, “and I have been asked to set you on your way, so to speak.”

  Marty nodded and waited; the old boy would get to it in his own time.

  “Your successes against the French intelligence service have not gone unnoticed and you have supporters, and enemies, at almost all levels of the government. Even Pitt cannot gainsay you, even though you are known to be contemptuous of his ally Admiral Gambier. A view held by the majority of the service I may add.”

  Marty smiled quietly at that, he frankly didn’t give a shit what people thought of him and was gloriously ambivalent to politics.

  “I am told that your good lady wife has been dabbling in politics and seems to have established somewhat of a power base in your support,” Collingwood said with a grin.

  “Has she? I wasn’t aware,” Marty replied genuinely surprised, he knew Caroline had pocketed a couple of MPs but had no idea what she had been up to recently.

  “Yes, she does it quietly, but she uses your wealth wisely and has established strong ties with some very influential people. Be that as it may you need to get yourself to Lisbon as soon as you can, your orders will explain what you will be doing, I have been asked to make sure that you keep your Flotilla intact and to provide any assistance I can if you need it.

  I believe that your new role will give you significant powers, I have been asked to provide you with advice and council should you need it as a favour to Admiral Hood.”

  “I am honoured and grateful Sir,” Marty said with genuine gratitude and affection.

  “I would have done it even if he hadn’t asked.” Collingwood smiled, “Now, let us have a glass to the future and the defeat of Napoleon.” Collingwood concluded and called his steward.

  Marty sat at his desk in his cabin and opened the double sealed packet; one seal was the Admiralty’s fouled anchor the other was the portcullis of the Government.

  Inside were two letters; the first was from the Admiralty signed by the First Lord himself and after the usual preamble said,

  You are hereby commissioned to take the position of Head of Intelligence on the staff of Viscount Wellington, Lieutenant General Wellesley, and take responsibility for both Intelligence and counterintelligence operations. You will maintain command of the Special Operations Flotilla and at all times conduct yourself in the best traditions of the Navy.

  That was the meat of it, there were other minor details but that one paragraph gave him an open remit answerable only to Arthur.

  The second was a letter commanding whoever read it to lend all assistance to the holder by the command of Mr Pitt the Prime Minister himself.

  “Ppff,” he said to Troy who was sat at his usual place beside his desk, “this is more than a bit of a challenge.”

  “Adam!” he called and a second later his steward appeared from the pantry.

  “Sir?” he enquired.

  “Pass the word for Mr Ridgley to attend me please and get some coffee prepared I think this will be a long meeting.”

  Now as he stood on the quarterdeck and returned Sir Sidney’s wave, he braced himself for the meeting that would launch this next phase of his career. It would make him or break him; of that he was sure.

  He had discussed with Ridgley the existing spy network that he had established and where it needed strengthening and how much it could be trusted. Likewise, they had gone over everything they knew about the French intelligence network and the military hierarchy in Spain.

  What he had was an embryonic mainly amateur spy network with a good foundation that needed expansion, and on the other side a professional French intelligence network that he needed to frustrate.

  Now he needed to know what Arthur expected, only then could he plan ahead and see how he could help make this as short a war as possible.