Spies and Subterfuge

by Christopher Hoare

  “I see. I had intended to leave the city today, but must surely delay my departure until I have exhausted every possibility of contacting Lord Bond.” She clasped her hands together over her mouth. It might prove impossible to follow both instructions.

  After some thought, she sent Piet back to the Nederlander with instructions to tell Mr. Bloggins to cross to the city side of the river to prepare to help her aboard by ten of the clock. If she did not arrive by that time she would be taking a chaise to Neuzen on her own, and he must inform Lord Bond of her plan, should he see him first. “Tell Mr. Bloggins also that I have accomplished my task here, and had planned to leave as soon as possible.”

  After that she had Annie help her dress to go to the Poste Restante. “Finish our packing while I am gone. I hope and pray that I find a letter from my husband awaiting me.”

  She started downstairs, but met the bell boy on the stairs. “You has another visitor, Madame Paine. He is waiting in the private lounge to speak with you.”

  “Very well. I will go there immediately. What name did he give?”

  “None, Madame. He said you would remember whose carriage you returned in yesterday.”

  Roberta almost missed a stair. She grabbed for the balustrade and stopped. Fouché again? Why was he hounding her?

  “Are you all right, Madame?” asked the boy, putting his hand toward her.

  Roberta took a deep breath. “Yes. Perfectly all right.”

  Her visitor seemed to pace the floor in impatience when she arrived. She steeled herself to hasten into the room as if pleased to see him. “Why, what a surprise, Monsieur le Duc. I did not expect you to offer me any more guidance. I am on my way to the Poste in the hopes of finding a letter from my husband.”

  Fouché bowed and took her hand to kiss. “I wish I could enlighten you, Madame Paine, but he seems to have disappeared from Ghent. However, my visit to you this morning is partially brought about by his movements.”

  “Indeed, Sir?”

  “Let me tell you of a strange happening,” Fouché said with that look of amusement he had lavished upon Elise the previous day. “A day before your husband brought the diplomatic letter to the Prefecture in Antwerp, one of my informants in Paris sent an intelligence that the American Ambassador had sent off Monsieur Gideon Paine to travel to Neuzen on the very same errand. Does that not strike you as strange, Madame?”

  Roberta felt she might sink into the floor, but she took a firm breath. “Is your informant perhaps confusing the days, as I confess I am, Monsieur le Duc?”

  “Ha! An excellent riposte. Let me explain, it is some two or three days journey from Paris to Neuzen. You may appreciate it is very strange that your husband already had the letter to hand days before the errand from Paris could be completed.”

  “I am afraid I cannot account for it, Monsieur le Duc.”

  “A wise reply—neither can I. But I have two courses of action—I can detain both you and your husband to answer my questions . . .”

  “Surely not, Sir. We will complain to our Ambassador.”

  Fouché smiled. “Yes, that might have interesting results. But on the other hand I might admit to a certain embarrassment and demand you leave France at once—and never come back.”

  “Embarrassment?”

  “I do not know why you were so interested to watch the parade of ships yesterday, but I am acutely aware that I was the man who introduced you to the Emperor. If you are a party to some mischief—of whatever sort—he could be justified in blaming me for permitting the action.”

  “How could His Majesty find some fault?”

  “You probably know the answer to that better than I. But I am conscious of the fact that I offered you my service should you need it while your husband was away. For that reason I am prepared to give you the opportunity of making yourself unavailable for such action as my duty would require—in the hypothetical circumstances we discuss. Please, do not delay.”

  With that, he gave her a stiff bow, turned on his heel, and left. Roberta sank into the nearest chaise with thoughts spiraling around in her mind. She had thought to ask about Elise, but he had not given her the opportunity. She had already planned her departure today, so only the threat had made that task more alarming. She had no time to look for the post. She must order a carriage at once.

  The porters carried her baggage to the street as she paid for the accommodation. She asked about the Freiherren’s account—had it been closed? It had.

  She waited with Annie at the doors until the carriage arrived. She gave the porters time to load before walking to the door the footman held open. The interior seemed unusually dark, and it wasn’t until she had entered that she realized someone already sat inside.

  “Do not be alarmed, Madame Paine. I thought if I was assigned to find where you went this morning we may as well share the expense.” It was Elise’s voice.

  Roberta seated herself opposite. “You are assigned to follow me?”

  “Yes, but I am not the only one. You surely did not think Fouché had no ulterior motive in letting you leave the city?”

  “I see. Perhaps I was naive to think otherwise. But he told you?”

  “Not personally, he does not yet trust me.”

  “I am hardly surprised. I find it just as difficult.”

  Elise laughed. “Yes, you are perhaps wise to be cautious, but if you are to escape, you will need my assistance.”

  Annie climbed in and stood watching the exchange. “The bags is aboard, Madame.”

  Elise waved a hand. “Then you had better sit, Annie. We are away at once. Is Nederlander still on the north side of the river?”

  Roberta thought quickly—if Elise truly meant to help she could provide invaluable assistance—if she led them into a trap . . . well, she had the Nock within reach of her hand. “Yes. We had already arranged to meet him on the city side at ten.”

  “Then we had best hurry before he slips his mooring. The ferry journey across the river may be our salvation. Only one carriage may be carried at a load, so any policeman following will have to seek another ferry.” She opened the curtain and called to the coachman. “Marguerite ferry landing. And make sure we are first in line.”

  Roberta looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Why are you doing this? It does not seem likely to endear you more to Fouché.”

  “How much do you trust Fouché?” Elise countered as the carriage moved off with a lurch. “What did he say to you? He suspects Lord Bond, does he not?”

  Roberta hung on as the horses settled into a gallop. “He had information from Paris that placed doubt upon my husband’s false identity.”

  “Yes, it happens. You saw yesterday how my favourite identity became a danger to me.”

  The carriage lurched as the coachman dashed into a corner. Roberta put out a hand to prevent Annie from falling off the seat. “What coachman do we have? One of your Dutch Resistance?”

  “Of course, I needed a man who would do my bidding.”

  “And what must he do?”

  Elise smiled. “You shall see.”

  Roberta did see, as she leaned out of the carriage windows when they arrived at the ferry landing. A ferry had just discharged its passengers and an open barouche stood next in line, but before the ferrymen could call it forward Elise’s coachman had rushed past it. Ferrymen scattered as the carriage swept past.

  Once aboard, the coachman stood with his feet braced on the footboards as he strained on the reins to bring the team to a halt. The head ferryman rushed toward them. “Get that carriage off the ferry. You have not paid a passage.”

  Elise jumped out, saying, “Follow me!” She produced a pistol and waved it in the ferryman’s face. “We are next, or do you doubt my aim?” She gestured to Roberta. “Pay the man—ten francs is the usual fare—but this is not usual.”

  Roberta took out three gold Napoleons. “Here is your payment. Buy your children extra bread today.”

  The ferrymen stood looking at one another fo
r a moment. The man at the steering oar waved his hand. “Cast off. We have a crossing to make.”

  Roberta and Elise stood watching as the ferrymen put their shoulders to the capstan that wound in the anchored rope and dragged the loaded ferry to the other side of the river. They both watched for a sign of pursuit. “There!” Elise said, pointing. “Watch for that open chaise whose driver is too impatient to wait.”

  Roberta watched the only occupant as he strained to turn his team and equipage back towards the quay. They were free for a moment, but Fouché had only let her go because he expected her innocence to lead him to her companions. This action had increased her peril—it had shown her as a knowing fugitive with a reason to flee.

  Elise walked to the men at the capstan and, with a wave of her pistol, warned them not to slack. Roberta took out her Nock and stood beside the steersman. “I will be very grateful, Monsieur, if you do not give me reason to fire this.”

  “Indeed, Madame, I should be most content not to hear its discharge.”

  The crossing seemed very wide and the progress of the ferry very slow, but eventually they ran onto the ferry slip and came to a halt. Elise ordered Roberta back inside and then jumped aboard with the coachman as the ferry mooring was secured. The coachman whipped up the team and the carriage bounced up the slope to the street before anyone could move to stop them.

  As they thundered away between the buildings, Elise bent to the carriage window to shout. “I see another ferry beginning to cross—we must assume it is your pursuer. When I stop near the Nederlander you must both jump out and hide.”

  Roberta had no knowledge of the roads on this side of the river, a collection of workshops, storage buildings, and rude dwellings. She looked out of the window as they dashed down the streets, turning at some crossroads and driving straight ahead at others, scattering people and animals in all directions. Sometimes she caught a glimpse of the river down side streets but could never catch sight of the Nederlander.

  All at once the carriage came to a halt. Elise shouted and they opened the door and jumped. Elise climbed to the carriage roof and tossed the baggage off. “Nederlander is that way,” she shouted, waving her arm. Then she scrambled back to the coachman’s seat and they were away. Roberta and Annie took hold of the valises and dragged them behind a low wall.

  They had barely pulled them out of sight before the chaise with the impatient driver arrived at the end of the street. Roberta pulled Annie down with her, not daring to rise to look before the sound of the chaise and its team went past. She took a quick glimpse, yes, he had not slowed, and vanished down the same street that Elise had taken.

  “Stay here and watch our things,” Roberta told Annie. “I will go to find Nederlander.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Activity on the Water

  The Nederlander neared the mouth of the river in late afternoon. Roberta stood in the bow holding on to a stay, and Midshipman Willis stood watching with her. She pointed to the sight of some houses across the river marshes. “That could be Berendrecht. What does our chart have?”

  Willis opened the hand drawn pilotage chart van Ee had procured while sailing the Schelde for the past month. “It shows that windmill on the downstream side of the houses. It do match. The boat landing is at the mouth of a creek opposite the town.”

  Roberta bent her head to see what his finger traced on the chart. “Yes, it does. Will you go aft and tell Mr. Bloggins we are getting close?” It seemed strange to send the lad on such an errand in a boat less than forty feet in length, but they could not risk anyone hearing their shouts in English.

  The boat landing and its creek surprised her by its sudden appearance but Willis was sharp enough to catch her gesture and loosed the spritsail sheet to slow their progress. The Nederlander nosed into the creek and drifted toward a jetty of clay and staves amid the marsh vegetation. They bumped against the timbers as a man emerged from behind some willows—it was van Ee.

  Two of the crew came forward to hold the vessel from drifting away long enough for the man to jump aboard. “I am good. Let us get back into the river channel,” he said. “We are two hours behind the soldiers’ beurtschip.”

  The men re-set the spritsail and Nederlander turned and left the creek. Once in the main channel, Bloggins had all sail set.

  They gathered in the small stern cabin to discuss the situation. “Did you see our friends?” Roberta asked van Ee.

  “That I did. They are aboard and secured with leg shackles and chains. There are four soldiers with artillery carbines and a sergeant guarding them. The beurtschip has only a master and a boy, so the soldiers are to act as crew. They are not good sailors.”

  “We should soon catch them,” Willis suggested.

  van Ee shrugged. “Nederlander is hardly a racing craft. If we get close enough to see where they anchor for the night we will have done well.”

  “Will they anchor?” Roberta said.

  “If you had seen the trouble they had to get out of the creek we just left, you would have no doubt of it, Lady.”

  “Good,” she said. “We have six armed men to their five and my pistol as well. We should be able to come alongside them when they are far from shore in the morning.”

  van Ee nodded. “That seems possible. What plan did Lord Bond give you?”

  Roberta shook her head. “I have had no word from him since he left to go to Ghent on horseback, two days ago. I have to hope that we find him in Neuzen with the Reaper. That is where Fouché said Gideon Paine was instructed to go—and Lord Bond went to ensure Paine did not discover us and alert the French.”

  van Ee stared at her. “Fouché? The Duc de Outrante?”

  Roberta smiled. “Yes. It does seem unbelievable but he and the Emperor are in Antwerp, and he has been most diligent to find some reason to arrest us Americans and learn what mischief we are doing.”

  “My God! How did you get away from him?”

  “I will tell all once we are aboard the Reaper, but Elise told me he had only let me run in order to follow me to the rest of you.”

  “Elise. She is here?”

  “No. She continued on with the carriage to draw my watchers off. She plans to meet us at Neuzen.”

  “But Elise . . . told you—”

  “Yes. She is now supposed to be working for him. I hope she will be able to tell us the whole story when we see her. But meanwhile, I must get back to my sketches and calculations—we were able to see all I needed during the Emperor’s inspection of his steamships yesterday.”

  “There was word along the river this morning that one had exploded.”

  “Indeed it did. No more than a cable’s length from the reviewing stand.”

  “Was anyone of the official party injured?”

  “Only in their pride.”

  Lord Bond watched Gideon Paine ahead of him board the canal boat and make for the passenger saloon. As he expected, Paine did not look about, and so would not notice that the man who had called himself Richard Davis from Baltimore was not on his way back to Bruxelles as he had intimated, but was following him to Neuzen. There was no reason to suppose Paine would be any the wiser when the canal boat arrived in the morning. He saw no purpose in revealing the extent of his deception until they met aboard the Reaper—and by then Paine would be a prisoner of the Royal Navy.

  This afternoon, the man was finally ready to take the journey intended for nearly three days ago. He did not seem to be a real spy for the Americans—merely a national who was sometimes useful. First, he had insisted on reporting Elise’s robbery to the Prefect of Police. The officers needed a bribe before they took note of Paine’s losses. It would doubtless be reported to the officials in Antwerp, but with luck the sad tale of some American stupid enough to be robbed by a loose woman would not immediately cross Fouché’s desk. By then, his own letter to Roberta would warn them both to leave the city and make for the Reaper. The spying mission may have to be abandoned, but the important thing was to get Roberta to
safety.

  Then, as if that delay were not enough, the man insisted on waiting for a letter from Ambassador Crawford. At least he agreed to hide in a small pensione in another part of town while they waited—for a letter that would never be sent—but he could hardly tell Paine why. The diplomatic package from Reaper would doubtlessly arrive in Paris before Paine’s plea for help and a new passport.

  The delay was a damned nuisance. How he wished he had been able to pull out both old and new passports and order the man to get on with the job. Why had he not done that? Why had he not merely shot the man and launched him into the river? Well . . . he needed him to create a new direction for a spying mission that had so clearly gone astray. The letter from President Madison to the Ambassador had given him an idea of a diplomatic coup that could be even more important than the French steamships, and Roberta would not be any part of it.

  It was then his turn to climb the gangplank and pay his fare. “Ten francs for a private berth, Monsieur. Do you have identification papers?”

  He handed the official a gold Napoleon and told him that he had had his documents stolen in Ghent. The man stared at him a moment—two Americans had lost their papers in the city at the same time? It was to laugh. Bond watched the man accept the ten franc bribe and joined him in the joke. He would be away aboard the Reaper before the authorities could piece together the threads of the matter. “When in trouble—be bold” had always been his motto.

  The Nederlander’s crew worked like devils all afternoon. The tide was changing but the wind was against them. Luckily the amateur crew aboard the beurtschip were going to lose even more in the struggle against it. Most of the other craft on the river were sailing toward Antwerp, not away from it. All save one.

  Willis climbed the mast like a monkey and cradled his arms around it while he studied the distant vessel through his telescope. “It looks like a man-of-war,” he reported. “It could be that corvette who searched Reaper as we neared Neuzen a week back.”