by Smith, Skye
"So what'sup, Danny?" Mick asked, not convinced.
"Oliver captured this town only yesterday, and today he is sending away two thirds of his men. Yesterday we captured less than half of the royalists, and later today he will be setting free two thirds of the few we did capture. Oh aye, unarmed and unmounted, but free. I've reason to believe that somewhere in this town they have a hidden cache of weapons. If the royalists can get to it, then they will rise up against us. Oliver has screwed himself."
"What you mean to say is that he has screwed us. They'll hold a colonel hostage, but us they will drown in the mud of their inner harbour. Come with us, Danny. The sea is calm and the winds are fair. We will be back home by tomorrow first light."
"No Mick. Ollie's a stubborn burk, but he deserves better than that. Remember when we were young and the drainage enclosures were taking over the Fen's commons. He was the only educated man who stood by us cottagers and made our case to the courts that we had a right to those commons. This spring the cottagers are tilling and claiming back some of the Bishop of Ely's land. Sort of a reverse enclosure. If we run afoul of the courts, we'll need Ollie's voice again."
"How many nights must we stay?" Mick asked. "The days don't matter. How many nights?"
"One. By tomorrow there should be a troop of reinforcements marching here from Norwich. Two nights at most."
"So we have two missions," Mick said thoughtfully. "Find that arms cache, and protect Oliver's life."
"Why protect Ollie?"
"Hah, you obviously don't listen to your own stories," Mick told him. "Your stories about Dutch Pistoleers, the ultimate skirmishers. When your Dutch brigades were facing a stronger force, what were the pistoleers ordered to do?"
"Flying tactics. Lightning strikes. Take out the leaders, take out the gunners, burn their camp. Take out the leaders - Jesus!" he turned to face the town. "I've got to get back to Ollie. You and the crew meet me at the Swan. I'll arrange beds for you there." He began to run.
* * * * *
"There he is," Mick pointed. "That's the gunner from the battery who was the first to run." They were watching as the captives were released by Ollie's sergeant, one at a time, from the local lockup. These were the prisoners who were not important enough to be sent to Cambridge. Mick quick stepped so he could catch up to the gunner, and then trailed him until they were out of sight of the town goal.
As the gunner walked past a dark passage between two warehouses, two men leaped forward out of the shadows and dragged him back between the buildings. Mick, who was following the gunner, turned into the shadows after them. A moment later Daniel arrived.
"You," the gunner struggled one arm free and used it to point at Daniel. "You from the sneak attack at the battery."
"Yep, that was me," Daniel confirmed. "Daniel's my name. My mate here is Mick. We were all there. We just wanted to tell you thank you. We were scared shitless that we would all be killed, but when you saw the sense of it and ran down to tell Cap'n Allen, well that was a favour to us worth rewarding. Here take this.” He handed the gunner a small purse.
The man's eyes glinted with greed as he weighed the purse. "Silver or copper?"
"Mostly silver but with some old Spanish gold pieces."
"But that's a fortune. I didn't ..." he looked into the fair faces of the tall men, and then at the dark face of the shortest of them, the one called Mick. His face wore an ugly smirk. He held his new purse out and said, "I don't want it."
"You don't want your reward. But you earned it."
"I'm a poor man. I can't even afford a wife. If I try to spend any of this, they will think ... they will all think ..."
"But you did." Mick told him. "You did help us. Without your help our plan wouldn't have worked."
"They'll cut me up and feed me to the dog fish," he said with a shudder and then tried to push his way back to the road, but he wasn't going anywhere without these men's permission.
"I told you he was too honest," Daniel told Mick. "We should have chosen the other one. The fat one. Fat men know how to take money for favours. They all dream of endless wealth so they don't have to work anymore."
"What do you mean endless wealth?" The gunner had not yet given back the purse. He hefted it. "Even if this is half gold, it won't last me a year because I will have to leave Lowestoft."
"Come with me to the other end of these buildings so we can see the harbour," Daniel told him and then seemingly ignored him as he walked in that direction. When the gunner found he was no longer being held, and wasn't being forced to go along, he fell in step. Daniel pointed out the Friesburn Four to him. "That's our ship. That was how we snuck up on you. That ship landed us on the beach, and then we crossed the shore common and then up to the ridge road and came in behind you."
"Ahhh, so it was not our fault at all," the gunner said with a smile. "The watch in the light tower should have seen you and warned us."
"They were too busy watching the road for the troopers," Mick speculated. "We ain't with them bible thumping troopers from Norwich you know. We were paid for the job. Paid too little. We want more. Our ship may be small but she's fast. If there was something worth stealing in this town, then we could be away with it and gone in no time."
"By worth stealing, we mean costly yet easy to sell," Daniel added. "Coins would be best, but no chance of that. You can move coins by foot or by horse, so they will already either be taken or be buried deep. No, we need something bulky and costly and easy to sell. Is there a warehouse of coal about? Black diamonds?"
The gunner answered immediately. "You must be jesting. With peat mines all around us."
"Spices then. Do any of your merchants specialize in spices. Do any of them trans-ship Dutch spices?"
"Not any more," the gunner said as he was thinking. "Yarmouth's deep water port has robbed Lowestoft of the Dutch trade ever since the Dutch fluyts took over the cargo shipping business from small ships like yours. Stop talking while I try to think of what else is costly and easy to sell? Women? No, I won't be a party to slaving."
"Weapons. Pistols especially. They fetch a better price these days than fancy swords." Daniel pointed out. "Any of these merchants deal in pistols?"
This time the gunners answer came more slowly. This was what Daniel had been leading up to. Of course a gunner would know where the cache was. There wouldn't be just a cache of weapons somewhere within the town, but also a cache of powder somewhere lonely near to town. A gunner would have visited both caches. He waited patiently, pretending to think.
Mick was not so patient. "If some merchant is storing pistols, then the troopers are bound to find them eventually. We have to beat the troopers to them. What good does it do any of us if they end up being given to the Yarmouth militia.
The gunner had a glazed look in his eye, as if all this thinking and plotting was too much for him. "I know where some guns are, but I don't trust you. If I show them to you, what is to stop you from taking them and leaving me here to become dogfish bait."
"You wanted enough coin to leave here. That is why we are talking. You help us load the cargo, and come with us to sell it. We split the profits, and we set you ashore in any port of your choosing."
"As I said, I don't trust you," the gunner replied. "Bait is bait, whether my lads cut me, or your lads. Tell me a way that both of us can win."
"Now that is insulting, that is," Mick said with a shrug and looked around at the others. "What's to stop us from feeding you to the dogfish now, and once you can tell no tales, offering the deal to your fat mate?"
There was a silence, and this time even Mick did not break it. "How's about this?" the gunner said, while lightly tossing Daniel's purse in his hand. "Show me another purse like this.” The dark man did so. "Right, now show me a third." The good looker showed him another. "Right, we have three purses. I keep the one I have. I show you where the guns are, and you give me the second. You check that the guns are there, and after you see them you give me the third. At any time I have the
right to walk away with the purses I already hold."
"But that means you could walk away right now and get paid for nowt," Mick challenged.
"That's all right," Daniel was quick to say. "That was the purse we owed him from his help at the battery. How much do you think these guns are worth?"
"Hundreds of pounds. More if you are willing to ship powder, but the powder is in a different place. That will cost you a forth purse."
Mick nodded. "I've carried powder before. Can we go now or do we have to wait for dark?"
"I can show it to you now, but only to one of you. When to collect it is your problem. Mick, you come with me. The others are too tall and their long blonde hair marks them, but you look like a local fisherman."
Mick and the gunner walked together up High Street towards the Swan. At a lane just before the Swan they turned and walked towards a stable. There were no horses. "Where's the horses?" the gunner asked. "There should be a dozen in here. Cap'n Allen's own horses, and those of his men."
"Allen and the rest of your gentlemen are riding them to Norwich," Mick replied as they walked into the stable.
"So Allen is no longer in the town?" the gunner looked completely relieved. "Then this gets easier. This stable is built on top of an ancient foundation. Some church building must have stood here because below us is a stone vault. There is a trap door over by the tack bench. Now give me the second purse."
Mick handed it to him and then walked over to the bench, pushed some floor straw around with his boot, and then bent down and heaved on a trap door. It was pitch black in the hole. He looked around for a torch, found one, lit it with a steel and walked back towards the trap door.
"Careful with that open flame, there may be gun powder down there," the gunner said in a panic. "Here, use this candle lantern instead.” In worry and frustration he fetched the lantern and then lit it from the torch. "Put that thing out.” He handed the lantern to Mick and took the torch from him and walked over and threw it into a rain barrel.
There were steps down and Mick began down them holding the lantern low so he could see into the black space. There were crates below. "Are you coming down with me?" he asked.
"I'll stand watch," the gunner replied. "The reason they kept the cache here was because four of the gents what paid for the cargo have houses close by. Houses with windows facing this way. If they is on their way to Norwich, then they won't be keeping watch, now will they?"
Mick was doing a quick appraisal of the number and shape of the crates. He ran a small trading ship, so he was well practiced at estimating loads by having a good stare at a cargo. From the shape of the crates and kegs there were swords, pikes, pistols, muskets and balls. In his quick inspection he saw no cubic crates that may hold steel chest armour. Too bad. Armour would have made this a gold mine. As it was, it was pretty bloody good. The equivalent of one good cargo for the Four. All of the crates bore painted lettering. Dutch markings. This was a Dutch cargo and everything Dutch was of best quality. He turned and went back up the steps.
The gunner helped him to lower the trap door softly and then held out his hand for the third purse. "Do you want the powder as well?"
"Aye, but I don't have the fourth purse with me. We'll have to go back to my mates for it."
A look of panic crossed the gunners face. Between him and Mick any fight would be even. If they went back to the others, he wouldn't stand a chance. "It's not worth it to me. I'll take my three purses and go."
"That wasn't the deal," Mick argued. "You were going to show us the powder too."
"Damn rights that was the deal," the gunner replied, confident with his truth. "The deal was that I could cut and run at any time, and you would let me."
"Alright then. Cut and run, but at least tell me where the powder is, as a favour. I've given you enough gelt for that.” He held his hands out and open as a signal to the gunner that he would not try to stop him.
"You already know where," the gunner replied. "You said you landed on the beach and crossed the shore common. That means that you would have crossed through the northern shore battery. There is a cave built into the earthworks at the southern corner of it. It was the magazine that was built with the original battery. It is a magazine yet again.” He turned and was gone out the stable at a trot with three purses weighing his cloak down.
Mick heard a sickening thunk that brought back memories of how his own nose and ears had been turned into cauliflowers. When he stepped outside, he saw just what he expected to see. The gunner on the ground staring up at Daniel. The gunner was in pain and furious. "I knew I couldn't trust you," he spat in blood.
"Don't be so quick to point an accusing finger," Mick scolded. "Trust works both ways, and so does suspicion. You didn't expect us to let you go and warn your mates did you? So they could lay in wait for us?. We'll keep you tied up on our ship until the cargo is loaded. And just so you don't insult us again, your purses will be tied up with you."
While three of the lads walked the gunner towards the ship, Daniel and Mick walked back to the Swan. Captain Edward Whalley was in the tap room chatting Martha up, or perhaps feeling her up, because he awkwardly came to attention as they walked in. Daniel walked over to him and whispered a few chosen phrases into his ear. Almost immediately the Captain was running from the room and out of the Inn yelling for his sergeants.
Mick stared at Daniel with a frown. "Aw Danny, you didn't just tell him did you? We had a good thing goin' there. Lots of profit."
"It was never to be. We are still under contract to the Association. Perhaps Oliver will give us a finder's fee."
Mick looked across at the buxom brunette pouring ale out of a jug, and poured his eyes over her other jugs. She saw him staring and pushed her chest out and threw him a welcoming smile. He moved closer to Daniel and said softly, "And the powder?"
"You can tell that to Edward. That way he owes both of us favours. Oh, and hands off Martha. She is Edward's conquest."
"Conquest?" Mick said looking once again at the innkeeper's daughter. "And here I was thinking that I would have to fight her off."
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Pistoleer - Roundway Down by Skye Smith Copyright 2014-15
Chapter 5 - Securing Lowestoft in March 1643
Well before the sunset curfew the casks of gunpowder had all been moved by cart from the northern shore battery and into Lowestoft, and Colonel Cromwell's five light field guns had been put in position to defend the stable under which was an ancient stone vault filled with munitions. The two powder carts had been parked close by behind Captain Allen's house, so that if any royalist was so foolish as to ignite them, it would be the property of the towns leading royalist that would be destroyed.
It was Mick who suggested that he take Colonel Cromwell, Captain Whalley, and Daniel on a tour of the well guarded arsenal. As they left the Swan Inn, Daniel walked beside Oliver so that they could talk. Daniel warned him, "So you do realize that since their hidden arsenal is now so well defended, the royalists out there in the parish have only one tactic left, and that is to take you prisoner?" He didn't think it necessary to point out that if an abduction was to fail, that the other option was to snuff out his life."
"My men are loyal to me and I trust them to protect me," Oliver replied as he nodded to the men they were passing.
"It would take only one turncoat," Daniel warned.
"There will be no turncoats. After the battle for Edgehill I told both you and John Hampden that we needed a cavalry force as fine as those gentlemen who ride for the king. I have since regretted those words many times, especially after seeing how Prince Rupert's cavalryers had massacred our carters, kitchen staff, and water boys. I now freely admit that wealthy men have strong vested interests that keep drawing them towards the king, like moths to a candle, and so I have been recruiting my cavalry from the stout hearted yeomen of farming communities."
"So I have noticed," Daniel replied.
"Aye, and not a faint
hearted Anabaptist in the lot."
Daniel took the comment as an insult. "Me and my men are all Anabaptists."
"I miss-spoke," Oliver replied quickly. "Obviously I was speaking of those pacifist Anabaptists of the forgiving communes, and not your rough and ready Fens clansmen. That said, I wish my yeomen had more of the independence of spirit shown by your clansmen. Being from yeomen families they still tend to bow and grovel to the landlord class, most of whom are royalists. I fear that such deferment will put them at a great disadvantage should I call upon them to fight the very men they usually tip their caps to."
"While it is true that my clansmen do not bow nor scrape to anyone, that is not the Fen's way so much as our Frisian way. Frisians, by tradition, are a stubborn and independent lot ... sometimes cursedly so."
"Sometimes, ha," Oliver mocked. "You can tell a Frisian, but you can't tell him much. And yet what else but tradition allows men stand up for themselves against their 'so-called' betters?"
They each had candle lanterns in hand when they descended into the ancient vault. Daniel immediately began levering some sample crates open in his eagerness to see how these royalists had been spending their coin in Holland. Much of this had likely been bought with the gelt that Queen Henrietta had gained from stealing the Crown Jewels, so quality would have been more important than price.
Oliver, on the other hand, was casting his candle light on the stones and bricks of the vault. "I think this must have been built by the ancient Romans," he called out in wonder. "That means that it was built over a thousand years ago, yet just look at the workmanship."
"Oy, Ollie, come over here," Daniel called. "I've got the solution to your yeoman problem."
Oliver walked over and stared at the contents of a carefully packed crate. He was expecting to see double barreled pistols, such as the one that Daniel carried, but instead it was a crate of sabres, and they looked to be of fine quality. He picked one up and felt its lightness and its balance. "Fine blades indeed. In comparison, my own is like a butcher's cleaver." He practiced some parries and thrusts and slashes with it. "I like the lightness but do you think it would it be strong enough for cavalry slashing."