A Question of Duty

by Martin McDowell

  “I’m probably talking out of turn here, hoisting a false storm signal, but I’m speaking my mind and, putting it bluntly, Broke and Cinch are not men to easily give best, especially Cinch. If those registers stand between them and their designs on your farm, I’d be fearful. I’d be fearful for Pargeter’s precious registers and for whoever possessed them. Tonight’s the second night after their rebuff. They’ve both money enough to pay for men willing to undertake such work, so I’d advise you to be on your guard and get word to your family, if you can.”

  Fear for his family showed in Argent’s face but subconsciously he had reached for Grant’s hand.

  “I must go up there myself. I must make my apologies to her Ladyship and take my leave.”

  Grant nodded.

  “And take a few of your good lads. If my fears prove well founded, they’ll be useful.”

  Argent was already on his way, but he took the time to turn and nod his agreement. In the drawing room he found Lady Grant holding court with his three Midshipmen. Fentiman was sat, earnest, smitten and besotted, besides Charlotte, while his other Officers were making good conversation with the other guests. He approached Lady Grant and his three Midshipmen sprang to attention, but Argent spoke, ignoring their presence.

  “Lady Constance, I have received news concerning my family and I beg to be excused to attend on them now. I hope to return, but may not. If I do not, please accept my deepest thanks for what you have done for us this evening. I’m certain my men will not forget it, nor will I”.

  At this point Trenchard chimed in.

  “No Sir. We won’t, indeed not! Sir.”

  Argent and Lady Constance laughed but she immediately gave him the permission he sought. Argent hurried to the door that took him into the entrance hall, but he immediately turned for the Great Hall. On entering he found a fine and ancient performance in progress. With their meal finished Jones, Ball, Beddows, King, Fenwick and Tucker were all essaying a hornpipe to the tune of a fiddle that had been produced from somewhere and also to the rhythm of clapping provided by what could well be the entire staff of the house; cooks, maids, butlers, footmen, ostlers and all. Argent went immediately to his coxswain.

  “Whiting.”

  Gabriel Whiting immediately turned to see the troubled face of his Captain.

  “Sir?”

  “I need the men. My family live just up the hill from here, and I fear that there may be some trouble there tonight, even this evening. An attack, even, perhaps, of some sort.”

  Whiting immediately strode forward, leaving Argent standing. He stopped the fiddler and halted the dancing.

  “Belay! Belay all that. The Captain’s here and has need of us, all of us. There could be trouble at his house, up the hill from here.”

  He turned back to Argent, even coming to attention.

  “As you order, Sir.”

  Argent nodded and saw that all were looking at him.

  “Thank you, Whiting. Yes, I am fearful for my family, there may even be violence, so I’m asking for your help in ensuring their safety.”

  With that, needing no other word, his men immediately went to collect their hats and jackets and made for the door, Whiting kissing a servant girl that he had been courting all evening. Argent joined the group hastening through the entrance hall and then out, but from there on he took the lead, down the path through the now silent and deserted grounds to the gate. It was an anxious Argent that led all hurrying up the hill and it was only when he saw the light from the windows settling on the road outside the house that his fears began to subside. They all entered the yard and Argent noted the securely closed door, so he turned to find Sergeant Ackroyd, as the one best qualified to decide what should be done next.

  “Sergeant, I leave it to you to post sentries and stand a guard. We may be here all night, so divide the men into two Watches. I’m going inside.”

  He opened the door and found the family all readying themselves to retire for the night, but it was Emily who saw him first.

  “Reuben! Why so late?”

  However, she could not hold back her news of their achievement and it came out in a torrent.

  “But we’ve done it, traced us back to William Bennet, a Parishioner living at Land by Barton. His son Joseph died childless, he was killed in an accident, but William had a sister, Lucy, and so he willed the farm to Lucy’s son, his nephew, Jedediah Argent. It’s all in the Registers there. Lucy Bennet was William’s sister and she married a Zachary Argent, and they had a son; Jedediah Argent, who starts our family tree. And we’ve found everyone in it!”

  She clasped her hands under her chin and gave a little jump, then continued with more details, as they came to mind.

  “Joseph died childless in 1708, and so William willed the farm to his sister’s boy, Jedediah. It’s all in the Registers. They show Lucy Bennet marrying Zachary Argent and the Christening of their son, Jedediah, in 1671, but what’s most important is the Register showing Jedediah Argent joining the Parish to live at Land by Barton, here. It’s all written down in those.”

  She moved to the table, pointing at the Registers, but Argent smiled, nodded, and held up his hand, halting his sister.

  “Have Broke and Cinch been here?”

  Emily looked at her Father stood holding his night candle. The old man answered.

  “Yes. Late afternoon. They came demanding to know what we had to prove ownership of our farm. We told them the story and told them to go. We were a bit sharp with them and told them get out of our house and off our land. Why do you ask?”

  “I fear that they’ll not give best and will return with evil intent. Those Registers are all we have to link us back. Their destruction will give Broke and Cinch what they need, us with no proof of Title. I fear some kind of attack, here, tonight, or perhaps some other night to destroy these Registers.”

  Emily gasped and her hands went up to her mouth.

  “But don’t worry. I’ve several of my men, outside, now, mounting guard. Tomorrow, we’ll take the Registers down to Lady Grant, there they’ll be safe. We’ll worry about further nights with that done.”

  Argent Senior walked to the door.

  “Where are your men now? Enid bring the fire back up. If they spend the night here, they spend it under my roof.”

  He looked at his son for an answer.

  “They’re in the barn. I suspect half on watch, the others sheltering.”

  “Well, fetch those in.”

  He turned to his eldest daughter.

  “Enid, get some blankets. Emily, get these chairs around the fire, and get the kettle going.”

  Whilst Emily and Beryan moved furniture, Argent left for the barn. There he found six of his men either sat on the cart or on hay bales, these being Ball, McArdle, Short, Beddows, Whiting and King. They all stood at his entry, but that to the good, as he then motioned them to follow him out.

  “You’re to stay in the parlour. It’s warm and there’s hot tea! And more, I suspect.”

  They all followed him to the house and entered, McArdle halting just inside the door to be bumped into by Carpenter Baines as McArdle spoke in slow and deep sepulchral tones.

  “May God bless all who dwell herein!”

  Amens came from various quarters, but Argent was pleased to see the relief and satisfaction on both his sisters’ faces at seeing six imposing man o’ war’s men enter the room, all still wearing their seaman’s finery and all of whom were greater, or close, in stature to their own sizeable brother. Argent Senior came forward and shook the hand of each in warm welcome.

  “Now, there’s a chair for each by the fire and hot tea, and we’ll find more. You are welcome in my house, and we can only hope that none of us will be needed for its protection.”

  All nodded and smiled and took themselves to the chairs by the now rekindled fire and Enid gave each a blanket. Meanwhile Beryan had returned with two shotguns, which he placed carefully in the corner, he and Argent exchanging knowing looks. Seeing ea
ch of his men settled, Argent took himself to the door and went outside, into the dark, to find Ackroyd stood by the yard entrance. He sprang to the attention and saluted.

  “I’ve got two down the road, Sir, two at the back and one up the road. I’m holding here. Sir.”

  “I’d say two up the road and one down, Sergeant. If I’m reading this right, they’ll come from further up, not down. We’re now on 10 o’ clock, or near. Three hours on Watch and three off will take us to 4 o’ clock and I doubt they’ll come after that. Who’s up the road?”

  “That’ll be King, Sir. I’ll fetch Jones from down the road to join him, leaving Fraser there.”

  “Very good. Well done, Sergeant.”

  “Yes Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

  “King will be behind our wall, will he not?”

  “A bit further up, Sir. Sat in the hedge.”

  “I’ll join him and expect Jones shortly.”

  Ackroyd saluted in the dark as Argent walked off, he had an almost exact idea where King was and he called softly as he neared the spot.

  “King?”

  “Here, Sir.”

  Argent saw his shape in the gloom.

  “Room for one more?”

  “Yes Sir, I’ll just shift over.”

  “Jones will be coming shortly.”

  “That’ll be a blessing, Sir.”

  Argent could not be sure just how much irony there was in that, but he settled himself in. Jones arrived almost immediately and found his own place. Argent felt the need to say something, but he spoke barely above a whisper.

  “So, how was the Admiral’s hospitality?”

  It was Jones who answered.

  “Oh, the best, Sir. The very best, a fine spread.”

  “And you’ve both had a drink or two?”

  It was King who chuckled an answer.

  “More like three, Sir, four and five!”

  Argent laughed himself.

  “Right. You two get some sleep, or at least rest easy. I’ll stand watch, and give you a nudge if I feel worried.”

  The soft sounds of the two settling back into the branches came as his answer and Argent made himself as comfortable as he could, suddenly feeling the chill and wishing he were wrapped in a blanket. He had sat little more than five minutes before his wish was answered, Beryan arriving with three. Argent wrapped one around himself and then threw one to Jones, then King, both of whom merely mumbled their thanks. Both were, as long serving sailors, almost asleep, able to slumber under almost any circumstances, dry, wet, warm, or cold. Beryan had remained.

  “I’m staying. I’ll not sleep whilst you stand guard out here. I’ll keep you company.”

  Argent smiled in the dark.

  “You’re welcome, but none of your chatterboxing!”

  But it was Argent who continued talking.

  “When did Broke and Cinch leave yesterday?”

  “Around midday.”

  “Enough time to collect some hirelings. And they looked angry?”

  “Livid, I’d say, especially after your Father had finished with them.”

  Argent chuckled but continued.

  “Would they have seen the registers?”

  “Couldn’t fail. They were on the table and Father was leaning on them whilst delivering his dismissal. He told them that proof existed therein.”

  Argent said no more and they walked slightly higher up, to a field gate set back in the deep hedge and they wrapped their blankets tight around their shoulders. Both leaned on the gate and watched the lights of Falmouth extinguish, one by one. Then Argent turned to the road to stare at nothing but darkness, what little light there was came from a moon mostly lodged behind high, but solid, cloud. They said nothing but each could feel the shoulder of the other and Argent’s memory returned to the times they had sat watching over the crops to drive off the roe deer, or watch for marauding badgers who could ruin a row of young shoots in a single night. The minds of both wandered to be brought back to reality by the distant clock bells from Falmouth marking the passing of each quarter hour. A clock struck twelve forty-five and Argent was thinking that his watch was almost done when, suddenly, he was brought back from his musings by another noise, footfalls on the track and then several dark shapes passing down, their number indeterminable in the poor light. Beryan had seen them too and immediately started forward, but Argent held him back by placing an arm across his chest. Argent realized that they could be merely innocent travellers and, if so, would continue past the farm. He dropped his arm and both left the gate to gain the road, Beryan shaking King and Jones, but both had woken. Argent spoke in a hushed whisper.

  “It may be nothing and they’ll go on to Falmouth. But follow me, quietly.”

  They followed the dim figures down to the farm entrance, but there they could sense, as much as see, them halt. Whispered words came back to them, then the shape of the group moved sideways and into the yard. Immediately Argent heard Ackroyd’s voice, parade ground sharp.

  “Halt! Halt there. No further.”

  The shape rushed forward, but, as men of evil intent they were, they could not have timed their arrival any worse. The second watch was just coming out of the door to relieve the first, with a lantern held high by Fenwick, so high that it looked like a star shining above the roof apex. This appearance stopped some from closing in on Ackroyd, who had one by the throat whilst delivering punches, before he went down from a blow from a cudgel. At that point Argent and his three, and the six from the house, closed around them. The melee was brief, violent and, in the dark, confused, with many ending on the floor, including Argent, and more than one receiving a blow from their own side. The affair ended with one trying to make his escape from the yard, pursued by King, but he ran into Fraser and was soon rendered senseless on the dirt by a mighty blow from King on the top of his head.

  The lantern was re-kindled and the scene revealed. Seven shapes were motionless on the floor, but the Marine uniform showed one to be Ackroyd. He was gently lifted by McArdle and Short and carried inside the house. Argent, breathless and smarting from several blows, gave his orders.

  “Tie them up. Hands and feet. There’s rope in the barn.”

  Two were regaining consciousness, this indicated by their groaning and these were bound up first by Gabriel Whiting, him making his feelings very clear, whilst he savagely tightened the rope and the knots.

  “Now, just what do you think your game is, eh? Attackin’ peaceable people in their homes. Women and babbies, too!”

  The answer was another groan and Whiting moved onto the next and soon, aided by Ball, none remained to receive their less than gentle attentions, all had been quickly bound, hands and feet. By this time Argent Senior had arrived, stuffing his nightshirt into the top of his trouser band, but a shotgun in the crook of his right arm. He was followed by his daughters, but these were immediately ordered back inside after they had given him a candle. Argent Senior walked forward and used it to examine the face of each, lifting the head of each one.

  “None I recognise. Hired ruffians.”

  He turned to his son.

  “If they’ve come from Broke or Cinch, if we can prove it, we’ve a case in Court, surely?”

  “I doubt they know who they came on behalf of. Broke or Cinch would have hired someone to hire them, keeping themselves out of it. They’d deny it anyway, saying that many had a grudge against you, and it was none of their affair.”

  One of the six was attempting to sit, struggling against his bindings and Argent went over to him, his anger growing. He seized the man’s hair and jerked back his head, to lift the face upward.

  “Who sent you? What were your orders?”

  The man gave no reply, nor did the eyes show any fear, so Argent jerked the head back further.

  “Speak, or you’ll feel a rope around your neck and yesterday’s dawn was the last you’ve seen.”

  In support Gabriel Whiting stood within view of the man and began to knot a hangman’s noose. Fear
arrived in the man’s face.

  “We was hired in Harcourt. Carried in a cart to yer. None of us knew the man, but it was £2 to start and £2 when the job was done.”

  “And what was “the job”?”

  “To get some Registers and, if we couldn’t find ‘em, or get someone to give ‘em, to burn this place down.”

  Argent drew back his right fist, but his Father stopped him.

  “No, son. That’s not the way.”

  Argent released the man, then stood. He gave an order whilst still looking at the man.

  “Get them into the barn.”

  Each of the six was being led, or hauled, into the barn, as Argent walked to enter the house. Inside he found both his sisters attending to Ackroyd, him sat by the fire, head down with a pad of wet cloth being applied to the back.

  “How goes it, Sergeant?”

  Ackroyd straightened up and Argent could see that the Marine’s left eye was closing.

  “Not too bad, Sir. I’ve had worse.”

  Argent smiled.

  “One day you’ll have to tell me about it. But that was very brave, standing in their path like that. Well done.”

  Ackroyd’s head slumped forward again and Enid applied the newly whetted cloth.

  “Thank you, Sir. But if you don’t mind, Sir, I’ll just sit here awhile.”

  “Take all the time you need, Sergeant. We’re in no hurry now.”

  He patted him on the shoulder and turned again for the door. In the barn he found his whole party glowering malevolently at the six trussed-up shapes. He walked to stand besides Fraser, a thought growing inside his head.

  “How many short are we in the Afterguard, Bosun?”

  “Five, Sir.”

  “And Fo’c’slmen?”

  “Same number, Sir.”

  “Well, this plugs one of those holes and bit of the other!”

  He looked around at his now grinning party of seamen.

  “Whose been out with the Press? Anyone?”

  “I have, Sir.”

  It was Fraser who answered.

  “So what happens? Do you have to say anything? Legal or official, I mean.”

  Fraser screwed up his face, whilst the six, still groggy but now conscious enough to hear the conversation, howled in protest, to be heavily cuffed by the nearest seaman. Fraser gave some thought.