‘I will see what I can do.’
‘Thank you.’
Parker had got back to his boat, which was hauled upon a strand of debris-covered beach. ‘And if it’s any consolation, I never truly thought for one second that there was a single French spy aboard our ships. Sympathisers, yes. Spies, never!’
The President held out his hand. ‘Then don’t go telling anyone about those bones, ’cause it’s for sure they’ll never believe you.’
Pender helped Parker push his boat into the water, and both men watched as he dropped his oars. The sudden rustling sound behind them made Harry freeze, but Pender, equally muffled to diguise himself, spoke softly through his scarf.
‘He’s been with us since Parker came ashore.’
‘Any idea who it is?’
‘Can’t you guess?’
‘Not bloody Villiers?’ hissed Harry.
‘The very same,’ Pender replied. ‘He came up on us not long after Parker arrived, and has been tailing us ever since.’
‘He can’t see us.’
‘There’s only one way to stop him, your honour.’
Harry sighed. ‘In the name of God be as gentle as you can.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
‘IF IT was anyone else, Harry, I might be disinclined to believe them. But you have such a nose for crime and the criminal that you may well have the right of it. Though it’s unusual for you to parade innocence rather than guilt.’
Arthur had secured them a quiet place to talk, and since Rochester was less of a naval port now than in the previous age, the Angel was reasonably under-occupied. He sat, for once looking at home in the dark-panelled Jacobean surroundings of the ancient inn, happy to gently take the rise out of Harry. The question of what he actually did, as an aide to Henry Dundas, had been posed without being answered. But the air of certainty in his conversation led Harry to believe he was more than a mere clerk.
‘But,’ Arthur continued, his voice smooth and far from angry, ‘do you have any idea of the danger you’ve exposed yourself to by consorting with such people?’
‘I’m used to danger, Arthur,’ Harry replied without rancour.
‘Obviously.’
‘Can you do anything?’
Arthur Drumdryan pushed his fingers together, his eyes firmly fixed on the points. ‘I can talk to Dundas. Heaven knows everybody wants this business finished as soon as possible. The trouble is that the chair-bound warriors are beginning to sound triumphant already, as though it’s all over bar the executions.’
‘It’s that which I’m trying to avoid.’
‘What’s it to you, Harry?’
‘Sympathy, Arthur. The fellows at the Nore went too far, I agree. There is a difference between Portsmouth and here. But they had cause. Did you know that the Sandwich, where the mutiny started, had twice her normal complement stuffed between the decks, nearly two thousand men? The surgeon even wrote a report about the level of disease which was passed on to Buckner. And still the tenders were arriving, pouring more men from every gaol in the land into a hell worse than the prison at Cold Baths Field. They did nothing, and reaped the whirlwind.’
‘Everything that was going to be conceded was given away at Spithead, Harry. Admiral Howe told Spencer that he gave the Nore men copies of the agreements. That should have been enough.’
Harry responded with something approaching a sigh. ‘I think they knew that too. Perhaps it was a matter of pride. They needed something from Spencer or Buckner, some small concession, just to feel they weren’t riding on the backs of the Channel Fleet.’
‘That, if I may say so, smacks of sentimentality.’
‘I don’t care, Arthur. I think it happens to be the truth. Richard Parker begged for something like it and Spencer refused. Sadly, Buckner is no Bridport. Things at Spithead could have gone just the same way without the gentle touch of a good commander. Buckner has a heavy hand. It was right to get rid of him.’
‘They will both lose their commands, nevertheless, regardless of any personal qualities.’
Harry looked at his brother-in-law, and saw the certainty in his eyes. ‘Why Bridport?’
Arthur sat forward, for once reacting with the speed of a normal human being. ‘He conceded, Harry. He may well, as you have intimated, have been right to do so. But that won’t save him. There’s Bantry Bay to answer for, as well.’
Harry recalled Bridport’s depression at the thought of what his fleet might be called upon to perform. ‘He’s a fine sailor, Arthur. He shouldn’t be blamed for the French trying to invade Ireland.’
Drumdryan had sat back again, his calm demeanour restored. ‘He will be damned by men who would be seasick dipping their toe in the Thames or the Shannon. But whether we like it or not, they are the ones who will make the decisions.’
‘Do you make decisions, Arthur?’
‘I advise, Harry, that is my sole function. Lord Keith will take Bridport’s place, which is why he’s been brought to the Nore to replace Buckner for the final chapter.’
‘He has good connections.’
‘Few better,’ Arthur replied. Then he smiled suddenly. ‘Of course, to be a Scot does him no harm.’
‘Do you envisage any hope of clemency from a man like him?’
Arthur shrugged. ‘I do know that those at Gravesend, Sir Erasmus Gower in particular, talk of an assault more than they like the idea of actually engaging in one. If matters were to be at a stand for any length of time …’ Arthur paused, and looked beyond Harry to the door. ‘There is a young man with a bandage round his head, and he is looking at you in the most alarming way.’
Half turning, Harry knew who it was before he saw Villiers in the flesh. He did indeed have a heavy dressing round his head, one that indicated that Pender’s ‘tap’ was understated. Or perhaps, given Villiers penchant for dramatizing everything he did, it was the wrapping that was at fault.
‘Captain Ludlow,’ he said, in an arch tone, his voice strangely nasal.
‘Young man,’ Arthur said smoothly, ‘you must wipe your nose. You are in danger of dropping mucus on this fine carpet.’
Villiers had opened his mouth to continue no doubt, judging by the look in his eye, a verbal blast aimed at his late partner. But Arthur’s intervention, and the way it seemed to reduce him to the status of a child, killed the words. Worse, from Villiers’s point of view, his nose did indeed drip.
‘You suffer from hayfever, sir,’ Arthur continued. ‘A most unpleasant affliction.’
‘Captain Ludlow and I need to speak,’ said Villiers, recovering a modicum of his composure. ‘And the matters are concerned with the security of the realm.’
‘My word,’ said Arthur. ‘Then I’d best stay and listen. How could I, in all honour, go to my club without I had some state secrets to give away?’
‘This is my brother-in-law, Mr Villiers, the one who dined with your uncle.’ Harry turned to Arthur. ‘This young man is nephew to William Pitt.’
Arthur was on his feet, only Harry of the two able to see the humour in his manner. ‘Then you are also nephew to my good friend the Earl of Chatham. Sit down, sir, I beg you, and ease the pressure on that wound.’
‘I must have words with Captain Ludlow.’
‘You sound angry,’ said Arthur.
‘With good cause, sir. He has misled me, not once, but twice.’
‘That, if I may say so, implies a want of application on your part.’
‘Enough, Arthur,’ said Harry, seeing Villiers bridle. ‘Let this young man sit down and castigate me to his heart’s content.’
‘I will not take a seat, sir. You abused my trust most shamefully. I have the unfortunate task of telling my uncle William that I have been taken for a fool.’
Arthur cut in, his voice full of concern. ‘That wound, sir, looks mighty serious.’
‘I was clubbed last night, while observing that villain Richard Parker. If I had the identity of the man he met, a nest of worms would open up to shake the foundation
s of the kingdom.’
‘Describe him!’ Arthur demanded.
‘It was a pair, Frenchmen without doubt. I could tell by the cut of their cloth. Heavy cloaks, scarves and hats pulled low, and that at this time of year.’
‘That is hardly a description. What size were they?’ Villiers hesitated, a gap which Arthur filled. ‘Harry, stand up.’
When Harry obliged, Arthur pointed to him. ‘What size were they in relation to Captain Ludlow?’
‘Bigger,’ Villiers replied, without hesitation. ‘Much bigger.’
‘Then we must set up a hue and cry, Villiers, for two French giants wrapped in cloaks and scarves.’
Even Villiers’s thick skin was not proof against that level of irony. He was offended, to Harry’s mind with some cause. But Arthur wasn’t finished with him. He still had barbs to play.
‘Your uncle William engaged you to this service?’
‘He did.’
‘And you engaged Captain Ludlow?’
‘I introduced him,’ Villiers replied, with telling prevarication.
‘To what purpose?’
‘To uncover evidence of Jacobin involvement in the mutinies!’
‘Question, Mr Villiers. What do you think would make your uncle William happier? To have to go to the King, who is not a well man, and tell him that his fleet is full of sedition, or to pass on to His Majesty that for all the travails of the past two months his subjects are loyal but misguided?’
‘The latter, naturally,’ Villiers replied, seemingly unaware of the degree of turn such a response required. ‘No right-thinking Englishman would want to add pressure that might affect the King’s malaise.’
‘Then isn’t it a reflection of your judgement of character that you have chosen the very man to elicit the facts? My brother-in-law informs me that there is not even a trace of French influence in the fleet, either here or in the Channel.’
‘What?!’
Harry had watched this exchange with increasing amazement, quite struck with Arthur’s ability to turn an argument on its head, then bring it out in exactly the right place.
‘It’s true, Mr Villiers,’ Harry added, trying to sound disappointed, as though his hopes had been dashed as much as the youngster’s. ‘As you know, I went to see Valentine Joyce.’ He paused, waiting to see if Villiers alluded to the Normandy coast. But there was no mention of that, only anticipation at what Joyce might have revealed. ‘I put to him certain questions, which I outlined to you was my aim. He answered every one to my satisfaction.’
‘You are wrong, sir,’ Villiers spluttered, in a sudden show of emotion. He had a new spot of dew on the end of his nose which tended to draw the eye and spoil the effect of this transition. ‘I assure you I am not.’
Villiers seemed to have recovered himself, as though Arthur’s irony and relentless logic, plus Harry’s good sense, had never been employed.
‘Then I look forward to confounding you. The insurrection collapses as we speak. I have news that four more ships, including the Agamemnon and the Nassau, have broken with the mutiny. The Montague, Directory, and Lion have raised white flags.’
‘The Sandwich?’ asked Harry.
‘There is turmoil there,’ Villiers replied, his confidence growing, ‘with a contest for control of the magazine. What matter, she cannot hold out on her own. Every seditious swine in the fleet will run for her or the Inflexible. But they are wasting their time. Lord Keith is ready to sail down and smite them. We shall have them before a court and hanging from the yardarm before nightfall.’
Arthur coughed, not loudly, but enough to interrupt Villiers’s enthusiastic flow, and the words that followed suffered no loss of weight for being spoken softly. ‘I find myself at a stand. It pains me to remind you, sir, that this is Britain, not France.’
‘I fail—’
The voice that cut across him was harsh, and much more Scottish in tone than Harry had ever heard it. ‘I dare say you do, sir, on a regular basis. And the area in which you fail most is that of justice. No man will be hanged that has not been properly tried before a court of law.’
Arthur stood up, and walked past Villiers, indicating peremptorily that Harry should follow. ‘You are a disgrace to your bloodline, Mr Villiers. It will give me no pleasure to pass on that information to both of your uncles.’
He was whispering before they got to the door. ‘Do you want to try something, Harry?’
‘Yes!’
‘Then you get to Parker, while I get to Gravesend and try to put a check on things.’
Harry tugged at his arm to turn Arthur Drumdryan round, and looked into his pale blue eyes, ignoring the fact that Villiers was following in their wake. ‘I must ask why.’
The thin smile with which Arthur responded was one Harry had rarely seen before, hinting at the true man underneath Arthur’s polished exterior. And there was a hiatus as the youngster slid by trying in vain to hear their conversation.
‘My grandfather did not support Prince Charles Edward Stuart, Harry. He disagreed with that French-bred pimp both in principle and behaviour. But after Culloden Field, he opened his house to any stranded and starving Jacobite who needed help. Because if the man who led them was a drunken fool, the soldiers were his countrymen.’
‘And he suffered?’
‘He did, Harry. But never fear. Even as rich as I should have been, I would have married your sister for love.’
‘You should tell James this.’
That earned Harry a hollow laugh. ‘I’ve been telling James how to behave since he was eight years old, and not once has he listened.’
‘Villiers?’ Harry asked, pointing at the slowly retreating back.
‘I will deal with him. Just go.’
The panic that was about to explode was very evident throughout the entire anchorage. Boats were flying in all directions, with men calling out to each other, passing messages of desperation or hope, according to their allegiance. Harry and Pender, in a hired wherry, steered straight for the Sandwich, still defiantly flying the red flag. But it was obvious as they came alongside that things were far from that simple, and by the time they reached the deck, they discovered just how complicated they were.
Over half the crew, and all the officers, were forward of the waist, spilling down the gangways, gesticulating to the men who occupied the quarterdeck and the poop. One fellow, a huge black, was yelling, indeed chanting, for Richard Parker to be hanged, so loudly that his voice carried over that of everyone. The President was by the wheel, his hands raised in a futile attempt to restore some order. Fortunately the gangway and entry port were neutral, so Harry and Pender had no trouble making their way to the upper deck.
Parker dropped his hands when he saw Harry, and with as discreet a gesture as possible summoned him to join him by the starboard quarterdeck rail. The man was a mess, his thick dark hair awry, eyes wild, and his face black and streaked with soot.
‘What have you come for, at a time like this?’ Harry looked forward, his eye on the knot of officers, led by a lieutenant, who had gathered by one of the hatchways.
‘I made you an offer yesterday, Parker. It still stands.’
‘It cannot be.’
‘We have a boat,’ said Pender.
‘We tried to launch one an hour ago, just to get the most active away. But that was blocked.’
‘There’s always a way, Parker,’ Harry insisted.
Parker pointed past him. ‘You see that lieutenant, there, the angry-looking cove with the forehead like an ape. Flatt is his name, which just about sums the bastard up. He’s working himself up to fight for control of the ship. I have to stop him.’
‘How?’
‘Watch, Captain Ludlow.’ He stepped away, then turned round to face him. ‘I thank you kindly for your concern. But if I don’t do what needs to be done, there will be more blood on this deck than any man could imagine.’
‘You’re going to surrender?’
Richard Parker grinned then, and filthy
as he was, it was heartening. ‘I must haul down my flag.’
‘You will hang. And I have asked. I don’t think you’ll be alone.’
‘We will see about that, Captain Ludlow. Meantime, most of those threatened got away to Inflexible yesterday. If you can do something for them, I’d be obliged.’
Parker moved forward, merely tapping the hand that Harry held out. He went out to stand in front of the jeering crowd, aware, as Harry and Pender were, that the support at his back was not much more enthusiastic than that in the front.
‘Shipmates!’
‘Would you believe it,’ whispered Pender, as the sound of shouting died away. ‘He’s shut the sods up.’
‘I was elected to lead this challenge, by you, my fellow crewmen. I see before me officers with pistols in their hands, and I don’t doubt murder in their hearts. Did you know, brothers, that one of their number offered to do me in, to shoot me for a fee?’ He had complete silence now, and so could drop his voice from a shout. ‘You elected me to be President. I will not give way to these men with their guns. But if you, the men who voted me in, want me to capitulate, then I will do so. If you do not, I will throw Flatt and his friends over the side.’
‘Hang Richard Parker,’ shouted the tall black man.
‘Shut up, Campbell,’ a voice answered. But it was no good, the man kept yelling.
‘I ordered you flogged, Black Jack Campbell,’ shouted Parker, ‘and being the useless shit that you are, you want to see me dead to avenge it.’
‘Hang Richard Parker!’
Flatt moved then, perhaps sensing that things might go against him. The action seemed to release whatever pent-up emotion was stored in the sailors’ breasts, and they all began to yell, some to hold to Parker, but more to support Flatt. The lieutenant’s voice, as he made his demands, could barely be heard over the din.
‘The keys to the magazine, Parker, if you please. And a return of all the small arms you bear.’
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