Spies and Subterfuge

by Christopher Hoare

  “What course is he on, young fellow?” Bloggins asked.

  “A port tack that will bring him closer to our course. But where has he come from—there are no signs of moorings to the north of the river.”

  van Ee shook his head. “There is one major mooring in that direction, I was in it.”

  Willis scrambled down the mast. “Then it is new, there is nothing on our Admiralty charts.”

  “The old Kreekrak was opened by dredging, on Napoleon’s orders,” van Ee said. “It is all that remains of the river channel that once joined the east and west estuaries. It would be a tight squeeze for a corvette, but not impossible.”

  Roberta felt alarm. Had the ship been ordered south to look for them? “I think we had best take Nederlander into shallower water where they cannot follow.”

  Bloggins nodded. “Aye, My Lady. Thou has a good thought there.”

  It was near sundown when van Ee thought he recognised the single masted craft in the distance as the vessel carrying their captured colleagues.

  “They are clearly not making for Kloosterzande,” Willis remarked, one finger on the pilotage chart. “Is there another anchorage nearby?”

  “The ferry landing at the point of land,” van Ee answered. He turned to Bloggins. “We might gain upon them if we go onto the starboard tack now.”

  “Aye, Sir. We might make a course of nor-west, but we dare not make for land when it gets dark—these shores are the very devil for shallows and hidden sand bars.”

  As the afternoon crept into night the Nederlander tacked back and forth to gain the best possible progress along its intended course. The West wind swept down the estuary and over the low marshes as if they were all one. The finger of land stretched north before them as they reached every point where their port tack should give way to their starboard. Each time they were a little closer to land, and to the unseen shallows below the surface.

  Their quarry stood on against the shore toward the ferry landing as they reached the end of the last northerly spit of land, and their officers, Bloggins, van Ee, and the youthful Willis studied the moorings and the other vessels already at anchor there.

  “If we tried to take them in the night, we might arouse all the other crews against us,” Willis said thoughtfully.

  “My thought also,” Bloggins agreed. “But where is the corvette makin’ for?”

  “I think he intends to moor in the anchorage at the Kruiningen ferry landing,” van Ee said. “I can barely make out his masts against the north shore in this light.”

  “That is the other side of this ferry landing?” Willis asked.

  “Aye. He could be no more than a few miles off when our quarry sets sail in the morning. We had best spend our night in the main channel to watch for him.”

  “If we stands off where’t Schelde turns south again,” Bloggins said, “we need not raise sail until we sees the beurtschip pass.”

  “But we will then be in need of another chase,” Willis said with a shake of his head. “We have no certainty of a fair wind to help us.”

  “Ah, that may be so,” Bloggins replied. “But one thing us knows—they be a goin’ to Neuzen as well as us. As long as us catches they before reachin’ the coast lookouts we has an empty shore to run they against.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Covert Actions in the Oostkade

  Lord Bond jumped from the deck of the passenger barge to the flagstones of the quay as soon as the dock worker wrapped their mooring rope around the bollard. At last, the long, slow journey down the Ghent-Neuzen canal was at an end and he needed to get off the craft and out of sight before Gideon Paine came out of the public saloon. They must both meet again within the hour, aboard the Reaper, but Bond needed to be there first to arrange a suitable reception.

  Bond looked at the great number of people waiting for the disembarking passengers at such an early morning hour. He found it necessary to elbow his way through the crowd as he walked quickly away from the passenger dock. As he neared the open quayside he noticed two people in hooded cloaks, with traveller’s packs on their shoulders, moving through the crowd toward him.

  He stopped to put his hand on the Jover and Belton before they reached him, and then relaxed. “Elise, I did not expect to see you here. We had better get out of sight—Gideon Paine will disembark very soon.”

  Elise turned away. The other person lowered his hood slightly and said, “This way, My Lord.” It was Nicholas van Aa.

  As they followed van Aa to the doorway of a warehouse, Elise quickly reported something of the happenings since she had last seen him. “The spying has been successful. Your lady and the rest of the team are on the way to Neuzen aboard the Nederlander. van Ee is to guide them to a vessel that is carrying Mr. Holmes and Captain McNab to Ghent for interrogation.”

  Bond felt almost overwhelmed by the import of her words. Roberta had met Elise? The two captives were on their way to interrogation? “To Ghent? They are coming this way? I must get aboard Reaper immediately to organize a rescue party.”

  “The message your lady received from van Ee yesterday morning said he had a plan to do just that.”

  “I see.” Yes, he did see—that the two women seemed to have forged an alliance. He had no time to consider the implications just yet. “Good—I will consider what I may do to help them. But why are the two of you hiding your faces?”

  “Because the Comte de la Marck has people watching the canal. He does not want our men to reach Ghent alive.”

  “The treacherous bastard! I knew it was unwise to trust him—”

  Elise raised a hand. “Hush. Our Mr. Paine has just left the dock. Where is he going?”

  They turned to watch. “To the Reaper, no doubt, when he can hire a boatman. He is still following the original message from the Ambassador.” Bond turned to van Aa. “Elise and I need to be aboard before him. You need to take up your cargo broker’s disguise and keep him ashore for an hour.”

  “Doing what, My Lord?”

  “Acting like a man with his eyes on earning a fee from helping him. Take him for a drink—breakfast—there was no food on the passenger barge.”

  “Very well, My Lord. But with your permission, I will be sure to embark with him. These conjunctions of different interests are too dangerous for me to stay.”

  Bond nodded. “Our business seems to be done here. We should all leave as soon as we can.”

  Elise watched Paine looking surreptitiously about and chuckled. “I expect he needs someone to feed him, poor man. How did he pay for passage to Neuzen?”

  van Aa slipped away to follow Paine before Lord Bond answered. “I pretended to be a Richard Davis from Baltimore, sent by the Ambassador in answer to his request for help. He thinks I left for Bruxelles yesterday. I ‘loaned’ him some of the money I received from auctioning his cargo.”

  They both stood in the doorway to watch as van Aa reached Paine. The two men stopped and began a lengthy conversation. Paine seemed suspicious—perhaps it was to be expected after being taken for a fool twice these past few days. They stood together, arms waving as they argued. Paine moved to turn away, but van Aa stopped him with a hand on his arm. He gestured toward a wine-shop nearby. The offer seemed to work, the two lowered their voices as they walked toward it.

  The two disappeared inside. “I hope van Aa has enough to buy him breakfast,” Bond said with a smile as he took Elise’s arm. “We had better take the back lanes and then find a boatman in the Oostkade. You can tell me the rest of your news when we are aboard the Reaper.”

  Lord Bond stood with Elise beside Lieutenant Farley as a small fisherman’s pram came closer. “Yes, that is Mr. Paine with Nicholas van Aa. I want you to welcome him aboard and take him to the captain’s day cabin, where he cannot be seen from the shore. Then, we can tell him he is a prisoner of the Royal Navy.”

  “And if he puts up a fight, My Lord?”

  “I will wait at the door, and come in behind him if it is necessary. I do not want our mari
nes to lay their hands on him if possible.”

  “But he is an enemy alien, My Lord.”

  “Indeed he is, but I have a plan in mind that could make him useful to Britain.”

  Farley looked doubtful. “And what are your orders about the Nederlander and helping to rescue your captured officers?”

  “We will raise anchor and sail to meet Nederlander after I have reached an agreement with our American.” Bond looked across at the approaching boat. “I will go below now. They are almost here.”

  Lord Bond told Elise to stay out of sight as they waited silently in an empty cabin, listening to Farley and Paine talking as they made their way to the day cabin.

  “And you tell me that Mr. Monkman is not aboard Reaper, Sir?” came Paine’s voice. “That is very unusual. He is a part owner of the vessel.”

  Bond heard the cabin door open and the voices become muffled as they went inside. He left the cabin quickly and stood ready to enter.

  “Mr. Monkman was delayed elsewhere I am told,” Farley said. “We expect him to be aboard again quite soon.”

  “I find it difficult to believe you. And you do not sound American,” Paine said. “There is something very fishy happening here.”

  Lord Bond entered quickly and caught Paine’s right hand as he reached for a weapon. “Something definitely off, old Chap. I have to tell you that you have become a prisoner of the Royal Navy.”

  Paine twisted around to see who had him pinned. “You! I figured your Richard Davis was phoney when we were in Ghent, but you seemed to be bent on helping me.”

  “As I hope to help you with another proposition that will benefit you equally—once you have decided you would rather cooperate than accept imprisonment as an enemy alien in England.”

  “We aren’t in England, fellow. In case you hadn’t noticed. This is an American vessel—I only need to shout for assistance—”

  Two burly marines in red tunics entered the cabin, Brown Bess muskets at the ready.

  “I’m afraid not, old Chap. The Reaper became a prize of the navy a week ago. The only reason we are not at anchor in an English port today is that I had a need for it here.”

  “You had a need for it! Who the Hell are you?”

  “Tut tut, such blasphemous language, Mr. Paine. I am Lord Julian Bond, an agent of the Admiralty and in command of this secret mission in France.”

  “A damned spy!”

  “Yes, if you wish to deal in coarse detail. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some urgent matters to discuss—if you would be so kind as to accompany these two marines below, where they will provide you with some safe accommodation.”

  Paine attempted to swing at him left handed, but a Marine’s strong hands stopped him. He attempted to struggle but soon gave up. He had nothing but his voice to express his extreme frustration. “You damned Limey! I will get even with you. I will take you to court—I will sue you for thousands—”

  Bond smiled and shook his head. “Thousands? That reminds me. I still have about a hundred gold Napoleons from the auction sale of part of your tobacco that I took to Antwerp. You have some of the francs in the money I gave you at Ghent. I will return the rest to you, and your passport—if you agree to cooperate with a plan I have—”

  “What plan?” Paine seemed suddenly less bombastic at the mention of the gold.

  “All in good time, my good man. We will discuss the matter very soon. I would mention that there is still about half of your tobacco aboard. Once America and Britain are at peace once more you will be able to claim the value of it from the Admiralty prize court.”

  “Peace? Who says we are at peace?”

  “We are not at the moment, but you and I are going to bring that happy state immeasurably closer if my plan succeeds.”

  Soon after Paine was led away, a heavy squall set all Reaper’s rigging and masts to shaking. Farley hurried away to the weather deck to determine if they might still raise anchor and sail to meet Nederlander. Lord Bond called Elise into the cabin to get a full account of everything he had missed in Antwerp.

  Some of her story seemed too fantastic for belief. “The Emperor invited the two of you aboard for the parade of ships? Surely you jest.”

  Elise patiently recounted the whole story while he continually interrupted her.

  “Who is this Colonel Riviere?”

  “I told you when you were in the Low Countries before. I befriended a French officer, a colonel of the Génie Militaire, who told me of the existence of Napoleon’s ironclad.”

  “Yes, but you did not explain that much about him at that time.”

  “I am telling you now.” She answered a few more questions before he returned to the subject of the parade of ships.

  “So Lady Bond was able to examine the pyroscaphe?”

  “All of it. She went below with the Emperor when he ordered the officers to show him. And then, later, when we walked with Fouché through the secret dock, she was able to study the other vessel while he interrogated me.” She stopped with a slight choke in her breath. “He knew of my alias. He knew it was false . . .” She paused again. “He had been investigating me for weeks, Julian.”

  “Yes. It seems he knows more than we suspected. But what is this tale of his recruiting you to his own service?”

  “I have a letter of his to deliver to le Comte de la Marck. I believe he urges the royalists to keep him in his post of Chief of Police—should Napoleon’s rule fail.”

  “Yes, that is like him. The British government knew of a previous time when he kept his post while Napoleon was stranded in Egypt. He is a very devious man.”

  “I dare not go to the royalists, as he well knows. It was I who told Colonel Riviere that Monsieur le Comte was in Antwerp.”

  Bond stared at her. “You little devil. That was betraying my mission, too.”

  “No. I mentioned nothing that could lead them to you.” She took his hands in hers. “I could not do otherwise, do you see? My Dutch masters ordered me to give the French the information.”

  “But you think Monsieur le Comte knows who betrayed him?”

  “I dare not risk not thinking it. I also believe Fouché expects the royalists to kill me—that way there will be no way he could be linked to the letter if it came into the Emperor’s hands. He could deny it as a forgery.”

  “So what do you want to do with this letter?”

  “You say you have something for Paine to do. Let him deliver the letter—it will be more evidence how perilous is America’s alliance with Napoleon.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Lurking and Diplomatic Bargain

  As morning brightened Roberta stood at the base of the mast looking up at Willis who had his eye to the telescope. “I see the masts of the corvette,” he reported. “All canvas is furled but there is activity on the weather deck.”

  “Are they preparing to raise the anchor?” she asked.

  “I do not think so. Perhaps they are holystoning and mending ropes.”

  Roberta mused on the information. If the corvette’s captain felt he had enough leisure to rectify some normal wear and tear it did not seem likely that he had been sent to pursue them. However, they had not raised sail either. Perhaps that captain had a lookout watching for their movement—the fast warship could easily run them down before they could reach Neuzen and safety.

  “What do you see of the beurtschip?” she asked.

  Willis put away the telescope and manoeuvred around the mast. When he had a secure perch facing south he resumed his scanning. “I sees two sails leaving the anchorage and making good on a westerly course.”

  “Do they appear to be sailing in company?”

  “Too soon to tell, My Lady. One could be bound for the other side of the estuary.”

  She turned to van Ee and Bloggins. “What do you think, gentlemen? Should we raise sail, or remain hove to and let the current take us farther away from our course?”

  “I should expec’ our best course be to raise sail,” Bl
oggins said. “If’n it brings yon corvette to follow our move, us will know they be a watchin’ fer us.”

  “But if the beurtschip is not yet under way, could we then miss their departure?”

  van Ee shook his head. “If we sail before them, we have the opportunity to anchor in the shallows—to either sail out to rescue our friends or keep from being by from the corvette.”

  Roberta sighed. They would not help Mr. Holmes and Captain McNab if they were to give the corvette the opportunity to board them. But if they should miss catching the beurtschip in the estuary the two would soon be out of their reach in the Ghent-Neuzen canal.

  She could not stand deliberating all morning. She squared her shoulders. “Raise all sail, Mr. Bloggins. Let us find an anchorage to the south where we might speed out to catch our quarry.”

  Willis came shinnying down the mast to land beside her. “Spoken like a true pirate, My Lady. I suspect you have done this before.”

  “Watch your tongue, you cheeky monkey.” Roberta laughed. “I will tell Captain Bell to assign you the permanent dog-watch when we next see Medusa.”

  They found a kind of bay, a baylet among rushes and small willows, to anchor in about a mile from their night anchorage and settled down to wait for their quarry. Willis went up the mast with his telescope periodically to watch for the buertschip rounding the point of land. There was no sign of the corvette from here, on the other side of the waterway.

  When not up the mast, Willis sat slicing at a broken branch of willow with his sailor’s knife. “What means a buertschip, Mister va Ee? It seems no different than this vessel.”

  “The name means market boat in English,” he said. “They perform the service of ferries for passengers, and for taking farmers to market with their chickens and piglets.”

  “So they are no different?”

  “Ah, there is a great difference. The hoogaar is properly a sea going fishing vessel and is built more heavily than the inland buertschips.”