The Launching of Roger Brook

by Dennis Wheatley

  With swift, sure strokes he severed the cords that bound Roger, then undid the knot of the handkerchief that gagged him. Roger lurched to his feet but his mouth was so sore that he could not speak for a moment. His father caught his arm and said:

  ‘Steady, boy! Take it easy! Yours is the strangest homecoming that ever was. But, by God, your dear mother will be mightily pleased to see you. Let’s to the house.

  It was true enough that, however either of them might have envisaged a reunion, neither had ever dreamed that it would occur in such extraordinary circumstances, and one which made it so natural that the Admiral should accept his errant son’s return without loss of dignity.

  Roger ran his tongue round his sore mouth and muttered: ‘I’ve already seen her, Sir. I was about to saddle a horse and set out for London when I was attacked, an hour or so ago.’

  ‘What!’ boomed the Admiral. ‘Dost mean to say that having returned after all these years you meant to sheer off again without seeing me?’

  ‘I’d intended to return as soon as possible,’ said Roger warmly, giving his father’s arm a quick squeeze. ‘But I landed from France only at six o’clock, and must get with all speed to London on Mr. Gilbert Maxwell’s business.’

  His father gave him a sharp glance. ‘Ah! That’s different: and ’tis good to hear that you put nothing before your duty, lad. But come to the house and tell me how it is I came to find you in such dire straits.’

  Jim Button suddenly broke in. ‘The last time I seed ’e, Master Roger, was the day the Admiral come home from the wars. ’Tis good to see ‘e ag’in, an’ here’s hopin’ ’e’ll be with us for as long a spell as he.’

  ‘Thanks, Jim,’ Roger took the groom’s hand and shook it. ‘I’ll be back by mid-week, I trust; and we’ll have some great rides together. When you’ve watered the horses and rugged them up, would you saddle my mare and bring her round to the front, so that I can get off without delay?’

  ‘That I will, Master Roger,’ came the cheerful response, and, with linked arms, father and son left the stable yard.

  Lady Marie’s distress at Roger’s unexpected return in such a battered state was almost instantly overcome by her joy at seeing her two loved ones arm-in-arm like two long-lost brothers. Having quickly examined Roger’s head, she pronounced his injuries only superficial, but hurried off to fetch warm water, lint and bandages.

  The Admiral was in a high good humour. He had dined well at Pylewell and his face was ruddy with port and good cheer. As the door closed behind his wife, he said, jokingly, to Roger: ‘Well, boy; hast fortune favoured thee on thy travels? Are thy pockets bursting with good golden louis?’

  Roger laughed. ‘’Twould ill become me to complain against the dame; since for a year past I’ve enjoyed an income of two hundred and forty louis with all found, horses to ride and servants to wait on me, in the house of a powerful noble. But, through a twist of the wheel, I had to leave all that behind me and I return to you like the proverbial bad penny, a veritable pauper. So I’ll be dependent on your generosity for a month or two, till I can secure new employment.’

  ‘Think not a thing of that,’ smiled the Admiral, with a wave of his hand. ‘You did monstrous well to achieve such a position unaided. But you have no call to seek another. I’m a rich man now, my lad, and can well afford to support an only son. I can give you an income of three hundred and not miss the money.’

  ‘Have you come into a fortune, then?’ exclaimed Roger in amazement.

  ‘Nay,’ the Admiral grinned. ’Tis prize money, accruing from the sale of all the ships that I captured during the long years of war. Their Lordships were plaguey slow in paying it out; but what with Frenchmen, Spaniards, Dutchmen, and the rest, I’ve netted thousands; as have most other British Captains. You’ll not have noticed in the dark, maybe, but I’m building two more rooms on to the house; a fine, lofty dining-room, and an equally spacious bedroom above it for yourself.’

  ‘For me!’ Roger gasped. ‘That will be the meaning of the scaffolding I saw, then, as I entered the house with my mother. But how could you know that I’d return, Sir?’

  ‘I knew you’d come back sooner or later,’ averred the Admiral. ‘I’ll not deny that your refusing to enter the Navy was a bitter blow to me. But since you had the spirit to go your own way, ’twas as good as certain that you’d not haul down your flag, and one day come sailing into port like a good mariner. I’d not encourage your mother to hope on that, but I’ve been waiting to splice the mainbrace with you this many a long day.’

  Like King Charles II before him Roger could only marvel that he had been fool enough to remain away from home so long.

  ‘But tell me,’ went on his father. ‘What led to your abandoning your good position in such haste, and this dastardly attack upon you tonight?’

  Roger had only just started to recount his Odyssey when his mother returned with the dressings. Having bathed the wounds she made a poultice of Grains of Paradise and bound it round his head. While she was doing so he continued with his story and brought it up to date.

  When he had done, the Admiral frowned, and said: ‘But who can this villain be, that attacked you? How could any of your enemies have known that they would find you here, and so lie in wait for you in the stable?’

  ‘’Tis a problem that utterly defeats me,’ Roger declared. ‘At first, from the efficacy of the knots that tied me, I inclined to think it one of the seamen from the barque. Yet I cannot now see how it could be. ’Twas certainly not Captain Rapenot, for he had a hook to his left arm and the man who pounced on me grasped my throat with two hands. Besides, I wounded both Rapenot and his second mate too seriously for either of them to venture such an undertaking.’

  ‘They might have sent the first mate or a member of their crew ashore,’ hazarded the Admiral.

  Roger shook his head. ‘I don’t believe it possible, Sir. The barque sailed straight on to the west. While General Cleveland was bringing me ashore I watched her for more than an hour, and she neither lowered a boat nor showed any signs of dropping anchor.’

  ‘She might have put into Christchurch.’

  ‘Nay. If she had, there’d not have been time enough for one of them to get back here by half-past seven. Moreover, although they guessed who I was, I had told them only that my home lay near Southampton. How could a foreign seaman have found out so swiftly where I lived. ’Twas not one of the men from the barque, I’m now convinced of that.’

  Think you it might have been a vagrant, or perhaps an Egyptian from the forest come in to rob our hen-roost and, seeing you, thought he might snatch a purse as well?’

  ‘’Twas no vagrant, Sir. This fellow knew what he was after. I can hear his cry of triumph now as he came upon the letter, and he muttered to himself in French about collecting the reward.’

  Then it must have been someone from France who caught the packet on Thursday afternoon, and sailed some twelve hours ahead of you.’

  ‘You’re right, Sir,’ Roger agreed. ‘’Tis the only explanation. Yet I am still foxed completely, for how could anyone in France have thought it probable that I might make for Lymington?’

  ‘The de Rochambeaux might have done so, and told M. de Crosne’s people.’

  ‘Athénaïs alone knew the situation of my home, and she would never have betrayed me. Her father and brother did not even know that I was an Englishman until a few hours before I left Paris.’

  ‘You told them your name, though; and that you were my son.’

  ‘True; and, knowing that, an agent, having got to London, might have obtained your address through the Admiralty. But that is no explanation in this case. In view of the storm no boat leaving a French port on Thursday afternoon could have entered a British harbour until the weather eased this morning. She would have been bashed to pieces on the piers in the attempt. My attacker cannot possibly have stepped ashore in England earlier than an hour after dawn today, and ’tis humanly impossible for him to have reached London, found out where we l
ived and got here by-seven o’clock this evening.’

  The Admiral nodded. ‘Well reasoned, lad! Wherever he landed such a proceeding could not mean less than a hundred and fifty mile ride. Dick Turpin himself could not have done it in the time.’

  ‘’Tis an impenetrable mystery,’ Roger sighed, ‘and I fear we’ll never learn the solution to it; though I’d give de Caylus’s sapphire to know the fellow’s identity, and for a chance to get even with him.’

  Suddenly the Admiral slapped his thigh. ‘Damme! What in thunder are we thinking of, to be swopping theories like a couple of schoolmarms, when we should be about hunting the villain down.’

  ‘That will be no easy task, seeing how poor is the description I can give of him.’

  ‘’Twill be no easy task for him to get back to France, either; once I am gone into action. We know he’s a Frenchie, and tall, you say? What else can you recall about him?’

  ‘He had the thin hands of a well-bred man, though they were muscular. I think that he was clean-shaven; but of that I cannot be certain, since I glimpsed his face only as a pale blur. From his shadow I should say that he was wearing a coat or cloak with a heavy cape-collar, and his hat was in the modern style, a hard felt, flat-topped and conical-sided.’

  While Roger was giving his description his father had snatched up a piece of paper and was swiftly making notes. When he had done, he said: ‘’Tis well! I’ll go up to the Mayor and have his constables circulate this description locally. The King of France is not the only man whose purse is long enough to offer five hundred guineas’ reward for a capture, and by morning all South Hampshire will be hunting for this dog. Meanwhile, ’tis no time to stand on ceremony. C.-in-C., Portsmouth, will bear me no grudge if I poach his territory in a case like this, and my signature as Rear-Admiral, Channel Squadron, will be honoured from Dover to Land’s End. ’Tis my intention to close the ports.’

  ‘Well done, Sir!’ Roger exclaimed, his despair giving place to hope. He had never before seen his big, rubicund father at work in a crisis, and realised now how well fitted he was to hold a high command.

  ‘Give me now the words you heard him mutter,’ the Admiral went on. ‘Maybe we’ll get something from them.’

  Roger endeavoured to recall the expressions used, but he could not, and replied: ‘He said something to this effect: Thank God my instinct proved right. By tomorrow morning this will have earned me as much as I make in two years.’

  ‘Tomorrow!’ his father repeated. ‘Surely you could not have heard aright? He could not reach a port and make the crossing in the time. Perhaps, though, he had a boat awaiting him in some smuggler’s cove along the coast. If so, we’re sunk.’

  That may be it, Sir; but, even if he had, he’d not be able to reach France before tomorrow night, and I’ll take my oath that he said tomorrow morning.’

  The fellow is a positive will-o’-the-wisp!’ cried the Admiral in exasperation. ‘One thing is clear; he knew this to be your home and came here on a sudden inspiration; thinking that if you landed anywhere between Poole and Southampton you would come here first before proceeding to London, and hoping for a chance to waylay you. The odds are that he is one of M. de Crosne’s agents. But as for his returning to France to reap the reward by tomorrow morning, no man born of woman could do it.’

  Lady Marie had been sitting listening to her men. For the first time since she had finished bandaging Roger’s head, she spoke. ‘Think you there is anywhere in this country where he could collect the money?’

  Roger jumped to his feet. ‘Mother, I believe you have it! The notice said that M. de Crosne or any accredited agent of the French Crown would pay out the reward. The French Ambassador is such a one. Could it possibly be that our man is on his way to London?’

  ‘Nonsense!’ laughed his father. ‘’Tis too far-fetched. Having done his business, a French police-agent’s first thought would be to get back to France.’

  ‘Not necessarily! If he is a cunning one, as this fellow seems to be. He would know that you, as a British Admiral, would have special facilities for swiftly closing the ports against him. ’Twould be a clever move to ride unmolested through the night to London while we remained here organising parties to scour the coast. In any event, ’tis time now that I was off. I’d meant to take the journey easily, but I shall ride hard now, since there is just a chance that I may pick up his trail and overhaul him.’

  ‘Oh, Roger!’ exclaimed Lady Marie, ‘Are you recovered enough to face such an ordeal. ’Tis over ninety miles.’

  He smiled at her. ‘I pray you be not concerned on that score. Your Grains of Paradise have already done wonders for my head; and now that I am once again on our own good soil I’d ride to Scotland, had I a mind to it.’

  ‘So be it then,’ the Admiral agreed. ‘But ’tis my belief that you misunderstood what the fellow said, and will be on a wild goose chase. For my part I shall cast a wider net by taking the measures I have outlined. But I wish you fortune, and if you catch your man the five hundred guineas I intend to offer shall be yours.’

  ‘Thanks, Sir!’ cried Roger. ‘If my instinct proves as good as my enemy’s I’ll hope to claim it. Though, even if I’m right, I’ll have but an outside chance of catching him. He has well over two hours’ start, and the only way I can hope to make that up is with your assistance.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘In aiding me to obtain all possible facilities on my journey. I pray you write me a note giving me priority at all posting-houses for remounts and the like; and add a line enabling me to call for assistance in attempting his capture.’

  The Admiral moved quickly over to Lady Marie’s secretaire, took quill and paper, and wrote:

  To all whom it may concern.

  The bearer of this is Mr. Roger Brook, and he rides upon His Majesty’s business. Every possible aid that he may require is to be rendered to him. In the event of his calling for assistance to secure the person of a French agent for detention and examination such assistance is to be afforded him without question.

  Christopher Brook,

  Rear-Admiral, Channel Squadron.

  Roger thrust the paper into his pocket, kissed his mother fondly and, followed by his father, hurried from the room.

  Outside the front door Jim Button was walking the mare up and down. As they came out, he cried:

  ‘The chestnut be gone from the stable, Sir. That varmint must have took ‘e.’

  ‘God rot his guts!’ bellowed the Admiral; and Roger remembered then that, as he struggled back to consciousness, he had heard his attacker lead a horse out into the yard.

  ‘He be no good picker,’ Jim went on. ‘The chestnut be overdue for shoeing. He’ll not get five miles afore a shoe comes loose; or my name’s not Jim Button.’

  ‘A thousand thanks for such good tidings, Jim,’ cried Roger, as he mounted. Then, with a shout of good-bye to his father, he turned the mare and cantered through the already open gates on his way to London.

  Trotting up the lane he turned left at the church and out of the town towards Boldre. The hamlet was only two miles away and he reached it in under ten minutes. Pulling up outside the smithy, without dismounting, he hammered with his crop upon the door. It was now close on ten o’clock and the smith was in bed asleep. Roused by Roger’s shouts he opened an upper window and thrust out a head crowned by a white, tasselled nightcap. But Roger’s swift inquiry drew a blank; no traveller had halted there to have a chestnut shod within the past two hours.

  Ten minutes later he galloped into Brockenhurst and knocked up the smithy there; but with the same result.

  Between Brockenhurst and Lyndhurst he made splendid going through the lovely stretch of forest, but he was now wondering if his father had not been right, and that he had set out on a wild goose chase. If Jim was correct about the chestnut the horse should have cast a shoe before this. Roger had to confess to himself that his guess had been a long shot. In the cold light of reason it was much more probable that his unknown enemy wou
ld endeavour to slip back to France. In that case there was still a chance that the Admiral’s net might close upon him at one of the ports. On the other hand, so astute a rogue might well have prepared his retreat beforehand, and already be well out to sea in some smuggler’s lugger that had been waiting to carry him home. Again, having secured the letter, there was no urgent reason why he should hurry back. He might consider discretion the better part of valour, and decide to go into hiding for a time, then make the crossing when the hue and cry had died down. It would be easy for a Frenchman to lie low for weeks in the foreign quarter of a great seaport like Southampton without the least risk of discovery.

  Yet Roger was absolutely positive that he had heard aright, and that, somehow, his attacker planned to collect the reward next morning. If that were so there was only one place that he could do it, and that was at the French Embassy in London.

  At twenty minutes to eleven Roger cantered into Lyndhurst. With a catch of the breath he saw that there was still a light behind the curtains of the blacksmith’s upstairs window. It might have been any belated traveller who had kept him up, but the augury seemed good, and so it proved.

  Roger had no sooner attracted the smith’s attention and put his question, than the man replied:

  ‘Yes, Master. I re-shod the off-fore of a chestnut and looked to his other shoes for a foreign gentleman not an hour back.’

  ‘Can you describe him?’ cried Roger.

  ‘He were a tall chap, wearing a long riding-coat and a flat-crowned steeple hat.’

  ‘But his face?’

  ‘Ah, I’d not swear to that. He kept hisself well in the shadow. But he were clean shaven, and somewhat pasty looking. Seeing he were a furriner it crossed me mind that he’d maybe landed only a few hours back, and bin down with the sea-sickness in yesterday’s storm.’

  ‘His age?’

  ‘On the youngish side. Maybe thirty, but not more.’

  ‘Did he say where he was going?’

  ‘Nay. His English were poor. He spoke little and not a word of that.’

  ‘How long since he left here?’