I met his eye, but read nothing. Not for the first time, I suspected this man knew more than he told - but I was in a hurry. ‘I’ll return in a few days,’ I said brusquely. Whereupon I made haste to go up to my room and gather my belongings. There was little to pack, of course: what had started out as a brief journey four days before, to stay overnight with Sir Richard at Foxhill, had turned into something quite different.
Soon I was outside again, walking as quickly as I could along the track to Purton. Time was short, the afternoon was advancing and I’d had no dinner. Russell’s words came back to me as I walked: I expected little hospitality from Captain Spry, and an uncomfortable voyage ahead. I was unsure how far it was, downriver to Bristol… twenty miles? Setting my jaw tight, I forged ahead in the sunshine, perspiring as I went.
Mercifully I was in time, but only just.
The wharf was quiet. One or two men stood about, but the crane was idle, the stack of cannon-trunks gone. The Lady Ann, fully laden, sat low in the water, her cargo covered with sheeting. No sails were raised, but doubtless she would embark soon… I made my way to the trow’s side, then saw to my dismay that there was no gangplank.
Feeling mighty conspicuous, if not foolish, I called out. After a moment one of the crewmen appeared, to be joined by another. With some gesturing, I made them understand that I was a passenger, with authorisation for the captain. I held up the paper and waited, until at last Spry emerged from behind the aft awning. I watched him confer with his men, then look my way… whereupon his curse was plainly audible, and as vile as only a sailor’s curses can be.
But still I waited, my unease growing until I half-expected the man to set sail without me. Hence my relief was great when the gangplank was brought from somewhere and thrown across the gap between quayside and vessel. Without further delay I hoisted my pack of belongings and clambered aboard, proffering my paper before me. Spry snatched it, tore it open and read the scrawled message with a face of thunder. Then he faced me, and spoke up.
‘Lord help me, Pride, but the moment you give me the least cause, I’ll let you fall over the side – you and your whoreson letter of passage. But first I’ll wait until we’re on a fast current, so you’re swept out into the Channel… if you don’t drown, the sharks will have you. Do you understand me?’
To which I drew a long breath, tamped down Justice Belstrang’s indignation, and forced a nod.
And within a quarter hour all was bustle aboard the trow, as the mast was raised from where it had lain on her deck: the customary position, to enable her to pass under bridges. Her sails were hoisted, then as the wind filled them, ropes were thrown from the quayside. And soon after that we were moving south-west on the broad river, with the afternoon sun ahead.
***
That night I slept beneath the stars; there was no room under the aft decking where Spry, his three crewmen and Yakup lay, packed together and bundled in blankets. There had been no disagreement: once the captain showed me how small was the space, I had volunteered. The night was not too cold – and there was the imposing sight of the Great Comet, fiery-tailed, still bright in the southern sky. I thought briefly of home, of Hester and Childers with his warnings of doom, before managing to sleep a little. This was despite the rocking at anchor of the Lady Ann, the snores from the rear, and the fact that I had eaten nothing but bread and cheese, shared grudgingly with me by Spry’s crewmen. That, and the grim feeling that I could be on a wasted journey.
For I was unsure now that I would learn anything from watching the trow unload her cargo; Russell’s readiness to let me observe the business was testimony to that. Mulling over the matter, I eventually drifted off to sleep, to be rudely awoken by the captain bawling at his men. I stirred, stiff and uncomfortable in the morning chill, and discovered that we were shrouded in mist.
Thereafter, it was a long day. The distance, I learned, was approximately seven leagues; Spry did not expect to reach the Bristol quays until nightfall. He was ill-tempered and mostly ignored me, but I will admit he was a good sailor whose men obeyed him without question. Sitting stiffly on top of the cargo, moving only rarely to stretch my legs and trying to keep out of the way, I watched the distant banks pass by and held my peace… and eventually found my eyes on Yakup the Turk, who never spoke. There was something unsettling about the man, I decided, especially given the long knife he carried at his belt. Finally he caught my eye, and a look of such brazen hostility appeared that I turned away.
By mid-day the mist had lifted, and the voyage passed without incident. We saw many vessels on the widening estuary, and were forced to tack when the wind changed, but as the sun was setting the Lady Ann made a sweep to port, and quite soon we had left the Severn and were sailing up the River Avon into Bristol. Finally Spry brought his vessel into the crowded harbour, sails were lowered and we drew alongside Broad Quay. Ropes were thrown, sailors and wharfmen exchanged shouts, and the trow was still, heaving gently at her moorings.
And Robert Belstrang, alias William Pride, stumbled ashore with a grumbling stomach, stiff legs and a feeling of relief. I am no seafarer, and resolved there and then that I would remain on land for the rest of my life… except that there was a return journey yet to be made.
Night was drawing in, and lanterns were being lit about the harbourside. I took my leave of Spry, who barely grunted a reply. When I asked about the unloading, I was told that it would likely take all of the following day, and he intended to set sail the morning after that, at first light. Having said all he would, he left me to my own devices and stalked off.
Hence, I need not dwell upon my immense satisfaction at finding a bright-lit tavern close by, where I could eat and drink to my heart’s content and, for a while at least, put aside the wearisome guise of William Pride, unscrupulous dealer in weaponry.
***
I slept late at the inn I had found, a few streets away from the harbour. The place was busy, but I was able to bespeak a stay of one further night. Having taken breakfast, I ventured out into the teeming streets and made my way down to the quayside. There were several large vessels in port, which I observed with interest. With so many people about – wharfmen and sailors, porters and tradesmen as well as a sprinkling of idlers and drabs – few paid much attention to me as I wandered among them, finally arriving beside the Lady Ann once again. Here I was surprised to see not only Spry and his crewmen, but two soldiers in royal livery, standing on the quay. Before they observed me, I thought it best to withdraw; I had no desire to answer questions. As I moved away, a reason for their presence occurred: this was, supposedly at least, a consignment of ordnance bound for the Royal Armouries. Likely the soldiers were to provide an escort, to see that it reached its destination safely.
Whereupon a notion made me stop in my tracks: the dividing of the cargo was done here, Russell had said. How, I wondered, was this carried out under the noses of the King’s guards?
I moved some distance away, and found a convenient station behind a stack of bales; there was no shortage of cover on the cluttered quayside. From here, I began to watch the unloading. In fact it had begun hours ago: there was a crane in position, lowering its hook to the deck of the trow. As Spry’s men attached ropes, I saw that several cannons had already been hefted ashore and were lying on the quay.
I set myself to wait.
An hour passed, then two; the sun was high, and I grew bored and restless. Two neat stacks of cannon now stood on the quay, one smaller than the other. Already the Lady Ann sat higher in the water, but I guessed that the hold was not even half-emptied. Stiffly I moved away from my vantage point and, perhaps somewhat incautiously, ventured closer to the vessel. I saw the crewmen at work, but there was no sign of Spry… whereupon I halted: there was no sign of the soldiers either. It was past noon… had they gone off somewhere to take dinner? Why would they leave their posts?
On a sudden, my attention was caught by the actions of three rough-clad porters, standing by one of the stacks of ordnance. There was
a flat, low-sided barrow nearby, and these brawny fellows were lifting one cannon-trunk high enough to rest it there. I was curious: was this the usual practice? I had a notion that cargo was generally transferred by lighters from a small vessel to a larger ship, as I had seen on the Thames in London… but as I have said, my knowledge of such matters is limited. So I watched from a discreet distance until three cannons had been placed on the truckle, which appeared to be as much as the porters would manage. A piece of sailcloth was thrown over the load, and at once two of them gripped the handles and set off.
Whereupon, I realised, my best course was to follow them and see where they ended up. It transpired that it was the right decision, by which I came to understood what was being done, here in a busy harbour in broad daylight.
Looking about them, the men set off through the throng, calling for people to make way. I followed as they weaved between obstacles, bales and stacks of timber. Finally, having passed two smaller vessels, they came to a halt alongside a good-sized merchantman, her foredeck towering above the quayside. A broad gangplank with a handrail sloped from the vessel’s high side down to the ground, and one of the porters hastened up it to where two seamen stood. While they conferred briefly, I made my way idly to the stern of the ship, and saw her name painted in red lettering: Waarheid.
I would recall later that the word meant truth, but it was of small consequence, for I knew what language that was: the ship was Dutch. And I was non-plussed: was this Dutch merchantman bound for London and the Royal Armouries - or was she bound for the Mediterranean, and thence for far-off Constantinople, and the armouries of the Great Turk?
I did not attempt to find out. Instead I turned and made my way back to where the Lady Ann was moored. I would go aboard, accost Captain Spry and try to squeeze a few answers from him – whether he was willing or not.
SEVEN
As usual the captain was morose, and I was obliged to remind him that I did business with Tobias Russell… private business, I added. Yet it failed to impress the man; he was not only bad-tempered that morning, but taut and preoccupied, his eyes straying often to the cannons as, one by one, they were raised laboriously from his hold and lowered to the quay.
‘I’ve no time for this, Pride,’ he snapped. ‘Return tomorrow morning, and I’ll take you back to Lydney as I was ordered. Then you and I are done.’
‘What’s happened to the guards?’ I asked. ‘Are they at dinner?’
He made no answer, only looked away. But knowing I should be bold as William Pride should be, I pressed on.
‘Do the Mountfords always use Dutch vessels? I couldn’t help but see where some of your cargo went.’
There was a moment then, before Spry turned somewhat slowly to face me – and now, there was not merely suspicion in his gaze: there was alarm.
‘What in God’s name is that to you?’
‘It’s my business to know such things,’ I returned. ‘Did Russell not tell you, in his letter?’
‘He did not.’
‘Well, no matter…’ I put on a look of unconcern. ‘It’s of no consequence to me who carries your goods, so long as they arrive safely.’ With that, I allowed my gaze to stray to the quayside. The two porters had not yet returned with their barrow, but the third man had thrown a covering over the smaller stack of cannon, and was now seated upon it. Facing Spry again, I feigned a yawn.
‘Where’s your friend, the Turk?’ I enquired. ‘I expected him to be out here, watching.’
But this time, my answer was sharp. Without warning, Spry’s hand shot up to grasp the collar of my shirt.
‘What game do you play?’ His voice was cracked as an old pot. ‘Or mayhap I should ask, who sent you?’
‘I’ve told you I’m a man of business, and my business is gunnery,’ I returned, my heart making a jump. ‘And if you don’t let go of me, I’ll…’
My hand was on my sword-hilt, the two of us almost touching. I smelled the man’s sour breath, and put on as threatening a look as I could – whereupon there was a sudden noise from the rear of the vessel. Looking aside quickly, I saw two of Spry’s crewmen appear from beneath the rear decking, throwing aside the sheet that served as a screen. With them were the two soldiers in royal livery… and one glance was enough: both guards were so drunk, they could barely stand.
But the tension was broken. At once Spry released me and stepped away, turning to his guests. Those two, I realised, had been plied with drink while part of the King’s ordnance was being rolled away… so simply, and so brazenly. Breathing hard, I glanced from the captain to his crewmen, one of whom threw him a knowing smirk.
‘I’ll be back in the morning, for the return voyage,’ I said to Spry. ‘Then as you said, we’re done.’
I moved swiftly to the gangplank and got myself ashore. As I walked away, I looked round to see the captain and his men helping the soldiers along the deck… and recalled that my earlier question had gone unanswered: where was Yakup?
But I dismissed the matter: doubtless he would leave England along with the Sultan’s cannons. I assumed I would not see him again… but in that respect, I was gravely mistaken.
***
I spent the remainder of the day in my chamber at the inn. I had called for pen, ink and paper which were brought at once – which afforded me some relief, after Henry Hawes’s refusal back at The Comfort. Now I could compose my report, which would help me put matters into focus. I began with my talk at the bedside of Richard Mountford, and detailed each subsequent day’s events until I arrived at Bristol. Here I broke off to take a supper, before returning to add a few questions to my account, to whit:
How many people were aware of this dangerous trade Tobias Russell was engaged in? Was Francis Mountford steeped in it, up to his neck? Could he even have ordered his uncle’s death, if John had uncovered what was going on? And finally, the question that had begun to gnaw at me:
Who were the Concord Men?
Alas, I had no answers; nor was I sure of my next move once I returned to Lydney. Setting aside my account, I went down to take supper before retiring early. I had packed my belongings, and asked the host to arouse me before dawn.
He did so, seemingly but minutes after I had fallen asleep. I rose quickly, dressed by candlelight, settled the reckoning and left the inn without taking breakfast, just as the city of Bristol was coming to life. Hurrying through the gloomy streets, I readied myself for a grim day’s sailing, under the eye of a captain who was deeply suspicious of me. But I thrust the notion aside and reached the quayside where men were already about, with the cries of gulls overhead. I approached Spry’s mooring, squinting ahead… then stopped in my tracks.
There was no sign of the Lady Ann – only an empty space at the waterside. Captain Spry had sailed without me.
***
For a while I was dumbstruck. Finally I began to look about, and accosted a nearby wharfman. When I asked if he knew anything of the whereabouts of the trow Lady Ann, he nodded.
‘She struck out last night, sir, on the tide. Never lingers very long, that one.’ He glanced at my pack, then: ‘Were you seeking a passage upriver?’
I nodded absently, my mind in a whirl. Soon I found my gaze straying to the spot where the trow’s cargo had been placed… and saw it was still there, covered with sheets. In fact, the stacks had grown to more than twice the previous number, presumably the entire contents of the hold. I turned back to the wharfman, who was about to move off.
‘Do you know the Dutch ship, by any chance? I speak of the merchantman, the Waarheid.’
The fellow gave another nod. ‘Who don’t know her. She’s been a-lading here for days… sailing soon, I heard.’
‘Do you know where she’s bound?’ I asked at once. ‘It isn’t Constantinople, is it?’
But to my surprise, the answer was a shout of laughter.
‘By the Christ, sir, you’re off by a mile. Constantinople?’ He chuckled again. ‘I can’t recall the last time a vessel sailed for there -
not from Bristol, anyways.’ But seeing my confusion, the fellow shook his head.
‘The Waarheid’s for Hamburg… not quite so far, eh?’
He left me, still shaking his head. And Justice Belstrang could only turn and retrace his steps, away from the harbour towards the nearest tavern.
The sun was just rising, and the place had not yet opened. But seeing me peering somewhat forlornly through the window, the host appeared, unbolted the door and gestured for me to enter. Gratefully I went in and took a seat, saying I would take a morning draught when he was ready. The man went about his business, leaving me to ponder my circumstances.
Well, the matter was plain enough: Spry had abandoned me, letter of passage or no. How much my poking about the day before had prompted such action, I did not know. But one fact at least had emerged: that the cannons taken to the Dutch merchantman, behind the backs of the soldiers, were not destined for the Grand Turk after all – but for Hamburg. In heaven’s name, what did that mean?
I was in ignorance, I realized – almost as much as when I had first ridden into Lydney. But for the present my needs were plain: I must return there soon. Leucippus was in the stable at The Comfort - and I no longer believed I could trust Hawes, or anyone else in that place. Peck’s death had shaken me, as much as the painful warning I had received the same night.
All of this I mulled over, fortified eventually by bread and cheese and a mug of beer. The sun was up, and customers began drifting into the tavern. Finally I summoned my faculties, paid the host and made my way outside again. My first thought was to return to the inn where I had stayed and see if the chamber was free for another night, or even two; as yet I was unsure how I was to make my way back up the Severn. But first, compelled by the noise of the busy port, I found myself wandering down to the quay again, ending up beside the covered cannon left by the Lady Ann – where I stopped abruptly: the porters were back. Or at least one of them was, the same fellow, I believed, whom I had last seen sitting nonchalantly upon one on the stacks. As I drew near, the man was quickly alert. It was time for some more invention.
Deliverance: A Justice Belstrang Mystery Page 6