A Certain Threat (The Merriman Chronicles Book 1)

by Roger Burnage

The two boats approached the beach, slowly because of the smashed oars, but the men had no fight in them and were quickly settled with their fellows who were being lined up and searched by two marines, supervised by the sergeant and St James.

  The gig returned and the man Thomas presented himself to Merriman who explained what was required of him. “I want you to talk to those people and try to find out what happened here and why the village people were helping the men on the ship.”

  “Aye-aye Sir” replied Thomas, “only thing is Sir, I’m from South Wales where we speak different from up ‘ere and I’ve not spoken Welsh for years Sir.”

  “Never mind Thomas, do your best.”

  As soon as Thomas began to talk to the villagers they surrounded him all talking at once and pointing to the men sitting on the beach. It was bedlam for a while until Thomas roared at them to be quiet. It was obvious that he was managing to understand and be understood because he fell into earnest conversation with one of the women and the oldest man in the group. After some ten minutes he left them and returned to Merriman.

  “Captain Sir, I couldn’t understand everything they said but two of them speak English. It seems that the cutter came ‘ere one morning at dawn. They rowed ashore and forced everybody out of the cottages onto the beach. One of the menfolk objected so they beat him so badly, he died. Then they took some of the women into the cottages and raped ‘em. The man in the blue coat, the one Mr. St James killed, was the worst, he was the one giving the orders Sir. After that they were too frightened to fight back. They are only poor folk and had nothing to fight with anyway Sir, except knives.”

  “I thought so. You have done well Thomas. Now I want you to go to that other group and see if there are any villagers among those out of the boats.”

  Thomas returned with four men to join the villagers. “That’s all Sir, they told me that there are none of ‘em on the ship Sir an’ two of ‘em were killed by the marines.”

  That meant that the village menfolk numbered eleven with two dead and the remaining group of men numbered twenty nine still alive plus those still on the ship and the two useless lookouts that Mr. Oakley and two seamen were leading down to the beach.

  Merriman stood, head down, hands clasped behind his back, pondering his next move, when the marine lieutenant quietly spoke. “Boats coming Sir, full of bodies it seems.”

  “For burial Lieutenant. Have your men see if they can find shovels in the village and then a party of prisoners can start digging. Where’s Thomas? Ah, Thomas, ask the village people where to bury the bodies.”

  “I have one of my men dead too Sir, shall we bury him here?”

  “No, we’ll bury him at sea with the seamen we have lost. I won’t have him lying alongside those murderers.”

  St James looked at him with gratitude “Thank you sir, that was a kindly thought. My men will be pleased.”

  Merriman continued, “It occurs to me Lieutenant, that as we have two Frenchmen here, and I think another on the cutter, there may be others mixed in with these Irishmen. If so they will need to be separated.”

  “Very good Sir, I’ll have that done immediately.” The result was the discovery of four more Frenchmen.

  “Right Mr. St James, we have twenty three or four Irish here. I want them transferred to the cutter and secured in the hold with the others. Send half of them at a time. Go with the first lot and bring the Frenchman back here. My compliments to Mr. Jeavons and will he show you which one, and will he send Mr. Andrews and Mr. Mcbride to me here. See if you can find any more French aboard and bring them back as well.”

  As the Lieutenant busied himself with organizing the movement of the prisoners and the marine guards, Merriman called Midshipman Oakley to him.

  “Mr. Oakley, take your party and go back to fetch the boat you left at Porth Wen.”

  “Aye-aye Sir.”

  The midshipman dashed off and Merriman beckoned to the seaman. “Thomas, I wish to talk to these people and I may need you to translate for me.”

  As he approached the villagers, they rose to their feet and the women bobbed in a sort of curtsey and hid behind the men who knuckled their forehead obsequiously. Before he could speak the oldest villager stepped forward and said, in English with a strong Welsh accent and with a simple dignity, “God will bless you Sir for our rescue from these wicked men.”

  “I regret that two of your people have been killed by my men, but they were amongst the attackers so the marines had little choice in the circumstances” replied Merriman.

  “We cannot blame you for that Captain, they were forced to join in, or be killed if they did not, they had no choice either. We count ourselves fortunate that only three of our number have been killed. I think that we might all have been killed before these men left here. What will happen to your prisoners now Sir? They deserve to hang.”

  “We shall take them away with us for trial and they will be lucky if they don’t hang for piracy and murder. Before we leave is there anything more we can do for you?”

  “Thank you. Apart from the bad treatment and shaming of our women, they took our food, slaughtered most of our sheep and have left us almost nothing. We Welsh are a hardy people and we can begin again, but it would help if we could have some foodstuffs to help us through. Our boats were burned and if you could spare one we could fish again. Do you think we could have some of the weapons too?”

  “Certainly, we will leave some muskets, powder and shot and a few cutlasses and knives for you, and you can have a boat from the cutter.” He pulled a pouch from his coat pocket. “This is the money taken from the prisoners. It amounts to no more than five or six guineas but that is more than I would have expected from such a mangy crew. I want you to take it. With care it should allow you to replace what you have lost and help you through the winter.”

  The old man took the pouch in a trembling hand and turned to the villagers, speaking to them rapidly in their native tongue. They crowded round Merriman, all talking at once, the women with tears in their eyes, some of them even trying to kiss his hand and all the men looking at him with amazement and gratitude.

  Merriman was quite taken aback by this display of emotion and found himself unable to move. He looked at the old man for help. “Don’t worry Captain, they mean you no harm. We see few English here in Mona, and those we do see are the rent collectors who offer little other than curses and blows. Your kindness is so unusual that they can hardly believe it. You and your men will be remembered in our prayers for years to come.”

  Finally Merriman managed to extricate himself and found that Lieutenants Andrews and St James were on the beach sending the last of the prisoners off to the Pilote. The dead had all been buried and the only people left ashore were the Frenchmen and some marines and seamen.

  “Mr. Andrews, go with this boat if you please. My compliments to Mr. Jeavons and I would like a quantity of provisions sent ashore for these people.”

  “Aye-aye Sir. There was only one Frenchman aboard Sir, he’s here with the others. There were more but they were all killed.”

  At last it was done, the larger of the revenue cutter’s two boats was left behind together with the provisions and a few weapons. Back aboard the Pilote, Merriman found that in his absence the topmast had been sent up and the decks cleaned of all signs of the fighting. Jeavons reported that the prisoners were all secured below under a marine guard and he was ready to begin the final task which was to tow the ship out of the small bay and put to sea.

  “Very well Lieutenant, I’ll leave that in your hands. When you are at sea you will take station astern of Aphrodite. Mr. Oakley should be here shortly with the other boat and he can stay with you. Mr. Andrews and Mr. St James will go back to Aphrodite with me. Mr. St James, the six Frenchmen will go with us. I want them in irons and a guard posted at all times, so arrange to split your men between the two ships as you see fit. Mr. McBride, if you have finished your ministrations here you will come as well.”

  “Yes Sir, there is on
ly one wounded marine I’m concerned about and I should like to take him over with me Sir, if you agree.”

  Merriman had no qualms over leaving Jeavons to move the Pilote. It was simple seamanship and he was an excellent seaman with an adequate prize crew to handle any problems that might arise. Climbing wearily aboard his ship, Merriman realized with surprise that it was past midday and he also realized that he was ravenously hungry, not having eaten since the previous night. The Master, Mr. Cuthbert and Lieutenant Laing welcomed him aboard and Laing seemed rather agitated.

  “It’s Mr. Grahame Sir. He has been conscious for the past hour and has been asking for you, but he is very weak and feverish.”

  “Below with you Mr. McBride, I’ll follow directly.”

  Chapter 19: A traitor to be hanged

  Jeremiah Robinson was a worried man. He paced up and down his office, his mind in aturmoil. Ever since the the meeting at the old “Poacher’s Rest” had been interrupted he had been worried that his part in the nefarious schemes of the French would come to light. Then he and Beadle had been seen by the boarding party on the trading vessel. True, the officer seemed to be satisfied with their story, but he was conscious that he must have looked out of place aboard such a filthy ship. In hindsight that had been a stupid thing to do when they could have used the more comfortable packet boat. Yet why did that warship continue to follow them for so long if the Lieutenant had been satisfied and saw nothing wrong?

  And in the first place, why was there a King’s ship stopping and boarding ostensibly innocent trading ships in the Irish sea? He knew that the Revenue people would be trying to trace their stolen cutter, but surely the navy wouldn’t have been involved. It was a new ship too, never seen in these waters before or so the captain of the trader said.

  The room seemed almost unbearably hot and he mopped his brow with a kerchief already soaked in perspiration. What a fool he’d been to get mixed up in the affairs of the Irish trouble makers and the French revolutionaries. It had all seemed so harmless. All he had been asked to do was deliver a letter to an address in Paris and bring back a reply. His regular visits to France and Ireland in connection with his legitimate business had been seen by someone as the perfect cover for subversive activities.

  Of course he didn’t know that at first. He had been told that it was simply a matter of trade secrets, a way of preventing rivals from learning what a company was doing. How gullible he had been. In truth, he had thought there was something strange about it, but he was so well paid to carry the letters that he had stifled his conscience and carried on. Not until his visit to Paris three months ago, when that damned Frenchman Moreau had been waiting at the address to which he usually delivered the letters, had he fully realized what he was doing.

  Moreau had pointed out that he, Robinson, was a traitor to his King and Country, a courier for spies and informers, who would be hanged if he were ever found out. Naturally he had tried to bluster his way out but as Moreau mildly remarked, it was too late to change his mind. He had received too much money, not to mention the favours of women procured for him in Paris. “Boys too I believe,” Moreau had said, looking at him in disgust.

  “There are witnesses to all of this Monsieur Robinson, who are prepared to testify to the truth of it. Enfin, you will continue to work for me or you will be denounced, or most likely killed as I find most convenient at the time. You will continue to be paid and you will still be required to travel to Ireland as well as to France”.

  He paused, then continued, “There is more at stake here than you know, but if you continue to do as you are ordered then you will be well rewarded”.

  Robinson sweated anew as he recalled how Moreau had suddenly drawn that damnably long sword of his and placed the tip to his throat. “You will be watched and you will receive your instructions in a variety of ways.” He had gently thrust with the sword until he drew blood.

  “Is your situation now clear to you Monsieur?”

  Robinson had fled, sweating with terror at the realization that it was a matter of complete indifference to Moreau whether he lived or died. Since that night he had travelled to both France and Ireland several times and become aware of the extent of the plot between Moreau and the Irish rebels.

  He flung himself into a chair, desperate to know what to do for the best. His whole life was in ruins. He didn’t have the coldness of temperament for this business and he knew that the other conspirators thought him a weakling. If the plans failed they would be unlikely to spare his life.

  Why oh why had he got himself involved? If it was anyone’s fault it was his wife’s, curse the woman. For years he had regretted the marriage. What a fool he had been even then, she had lured him with her womanly wiles, all sweetness and modesty because to her an up and coming young lawyer was a good catch.

  Almost from the day of the marriage she had changed into a completely different person, a strident loud mouthed baggage making incessant demands on him for money to spend on dresses and entertaining her idle friends. He had wanted a family but soon after they were married she had told him that she disliked children and very soon had denied him her bed and her body. Since then they led almost separate lives.

  Yes, it was all her fault, a better wife would have been content with the comfortable life he could provide, would have wanted children, would not have driven him to seek solace for his bodily needs with other women. Damn the woman, damn, damn, damn, she had driven him to it. Because of her he was a traitor to his country and if he was exposed, he would be hanged.

  He put his face in his hands and wept with despair. After a little while he brightened and sat up as a rare thought struck him.

  There might be a chance if he could get away. He had some money put by that he had kept from his wife and he knew she kept some in the house together with her jewellery. He could take that and make his way to Liverpool where he might find passage to America, he could make a living as a lawyer there. That was it, no time to lose, if his wife interfered he would give her the thrashing she deserved. If he killed her he would be no worse off, if caught, he could only be hanged once. God, how he hated her.

  And Beadle his clerk was another. He hated the obsequious little toad with his sneaky ways. Good at his work but he knew too much of other people’s affairs. But then he would need a good clerk in another country, somebody to discuss cases of law with. Could he be trusted? Probably not, but they could help each other to escape.

  He was totally unaware that he had been muttering aloud and most of his thoughts had been heard by his clerk who had been listening at the door. Beadle stared at the lawyer with a faint smile on his lips and shut the door as quietly as he had opened it. As he thought, his master would be useless in the crisis about to engulf them and it would be up to himself to organize their means of escape. He would go along with Robinson for the time being but he wouldn’t hesitate to abandon him if necessary.

  Chapter 20: A warning to the Captain of the Dorset

  Merriman entered the cabin to find McBride trying to hold Grahame down.. The wounded man was struggling to get out of the cot he was lying on, but at the sight of Merriman he fell back with a groan.

  “How is he Mr. McBride?”

  “Very feverish Sir and weak from loss of blood which has weakened him to the extent that I fear for his life if he won’t rest.”

  “Commander, I must speak with you, privately,” gasped the wounded man, clutching at Merriman’s sleeve with feeble desperation.

  “Carry on Mr. Grahame, I’m listening, and I have some good news for you.”

  “Water Captain, I need water.” Mcbride hastily filled a cup and whilst Merriman lifted the man, he held the cup to his lips. Grahame drank greedily and seemed to recover some of his strength. Merriman gestured to the surgeon, who reluctantly left the cabin with a final request that Merriman didn’t tire his patient too much.

  “Captain, you know that I went to meet one of my agents who said he had information concerning the Lord Lieutenant. Sin
ce sending that message to me, he and another of my men have been following a man whom we have long suspected of being involved in activities against the Crown. Two nights ago they followed him to an old, deserted inn where he met with other men, mostly Irish but some of them English.”

  Grahame continued slowly, “My agent was discovered but not before he had heard confirmation of what we had suspected, the plot to attack the Dorset using the pirated revenue ship with a crew of Irish under French officers. And there is a French man o’war somewhere. Another plan these damned French are up to is something to do with stealing a shipment of plumbago or graphite, which the French are desperately short of.”

  His voice faded, and Merriman thought he had lost consciousness again, but he opened his eyes again.

  “Water, more water. Ah that’s better. My man was badly wounded when he was discovered but managed to reach his companion and tell him what he knew and ordered him to meet me. Then he turned to meet his pursuers and try to hold them off whilst his companion escaped. I fear he must be dead.”

  “I met the man, who told me what had transpired but we were attacked and I barely escaped with my life. These plots must be prevented at all costs Mr. Merriman, at all costs.” He closed his eyes for a moment. The increased pallor of his face and his laboured breathing showed what an effort it was to speak.

  “Rest easy Sir. Part of this plot has already been foiled. This morning we recaptured the Revenue ship and took the people aboard prisoner, those who were not killed that is. We also took six Frenchmen, two of them officers, but the leader of them was killed by my marine officer. The French are aboard this ship and we have another Irishman captured when you were brought off the beach.”

  “Thank God,” gasped Grahame, impulsively grasping Merriman’s hand, “I knew Lord Stevenage was right to propose you for this command. You have done more than I thought possible, but there is more to do, we must find out more about the graphite, why do the French want it? They-------” His voice trailed off and his head fell to one side.