“It is that or a bullet, sir.”
“Be assured that you will survive me by less than a second.”
It wasn’t true, and Harry hoped to God that Temple wouldn’t see the flaw, for there was no way a man who took a ball in the back of the head could aim his own weapon. Did Temple know that you could only hear a pistol ball after it had passed you, that it would be lodged in Harry’s skull before he even knew the trigger had been pulled? They stared at each other for several seconds. Harry wasn’t the only one in the room holding his breath.
“Why did you come here, Ludlow?” asked Temple.
“To talk.”
Temple waved his hand, not only indicating what was taking place in the magistrate’s drawing-room, but the whole town of Deal. “You could have achieved that without all this.”
The reply to that was difficult, for Harry knew he had to pacify him. The man who stood before him was nothing like his impersonator. He had natural authority, seemingly abundant personal courage, and plainly a high degree of self-esteem. Being threatened offended his pride. Involving his brother, notably less stalwart, probably incensed him. He might well seek to resolve matters in a way that would satisfy his anger, rather than his interests. So his voice, when he spoke, was devoid of bravado.
“Permit me to ask what you would do, sir, if someone buried you in shingle?” Temple didn’t reply. Harry pressed home the advantage the pause gave him. “Hardly the stuff of polite conversation. Indeed I doubt if most people would seek an accommodation at all. My calling card should not have been an insignificant bottle of turpentine. Indeed, I had good cause to use several barrels of powder.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“I am quite capable of going to war with you, Mr Temple. And I could set the whole of east Kent alight in the process, which would certainly make your present trade difficult, if not impossible. On the other hand I have property close enough to Deal to be vulnerable …” He didn’t finish the sentence. Temple was quite capable of working out the situation for himself. He jerked his head to acknowledge the threat to his rear. “Matters have come to a head sooner than I anticipated. But they must be resolved. The threat of death hangs over me still, and for reasons I do not understand, discounting a sheer love of murder. Until that threat is removed, I have no choice but to act aggressively.”
Temple stared hard at him, then raised his eyes to the man behind Harry, jerking his head in dismissal. “Close the door!”
The cold stream of air, drawn into the hot room by the blazing fire, ceased. Pender’s eyes, which had never left that weapon, swung back to Harry’s, providing double proof that the threat was removed.
“It is now your turn to demonstrate a little good faith, Mr Ludlow,” said Temple.
If he was going to get out of danger, Harry had to go now, before a message could be got back to the Hope and Anchor. Temple’s companion, whoever he was, would be scurrying through those tunnels to alert the rest of the gang. Five minutes from now the whole place would be surrounded by armed men—if it wasn’t already. Temple must have smoked his dilemma, for he favoured him with that cold smile again.
“It is never easy to drop an advantage.”
“It could cost a man his life,” replied Harry enigmatically.
Temple shook his head. “No, Ludlow. If you were intent on killing me, my brother would have been dead by the time I arrived, and I would have followed very swiftly. And if it’s any comfort to you, this house has been surrounded for quite some time.”
Temple whipped off his hat, jerked at the tails of his coat with both hands, and sat down in a chair next to his silent, shivering brother.
“You can put up your weapons.”
“Have you heard of the Hawkhurst gang?” asked Temple, who’d seen his shaken brother off to his bed before resuming his seat. He glanced at Pender, who’d moved to block the door that led to the tunnel, but if he bothered him he didn’t let it show.
Harry recalled that notorious bunch of rogues. He himself had barely been born when the Hawkhurst gang had been at their most active, but at their peak they had terrorised the whole of southern England, becoming more than mere smugglers as they raised their trade to unprecedented levels. As business had increased so did their numbers, and with it their propensity for violence. Such an enterprise could not be hidden from view. It therefore became essential to ensure that what was plain to every eye was never mentioned by any mouth.
Entire villages were burnt to terrorise the inhabitants of Sussex. Pitched battles were fought with the excisemen, who could not fail to intercept a fair proportion of such an abundance of contraband. Eventually things had got out of hand, and the authorities, who usually favoured a benign attitude to the trade, had to acknowledge that the Hawkhurst gang were more than “Honest Thieves.” They had become a government in their own right, threatening the stability of an entire region of the state. The army was called in, the gang rooted out and destroyed.
“It is not commonly known that the information used to destroy the gang, the location of their hideaways, was provided by their fellow smugglers,” said Temple.
“For their own self-preservation, no doubt.”
Temple nodded, acknowledging that Harry’s remark had saved him a great deal of explanation. “Precisely, Mr Ludlow. Everyone’s operations were affected by the Hawkhurst people. The larger they became, the more they pillaged our trade.”
“This was all a very long time ago,” said Harry.
Temple nodded. “I was young myself then, but I can remember the anger my father directed at their activities. He was a close associate of Aldington, and a prime mover in the notion that the Hawkhurst excesses should be curtailed.”
“What has all this got to do with Obidiah Trench?”
“He comes from that part of the world, Mr Ludlow. He is, in some respects, a successor to the Hawkhurst gang.”
“He certainly shares their taste for blood,” said Harry sharply.
“I grant he lacks gentility,” said Temple, with a fine degree of understatement.
“And Tobias Bertles?” asked Harry.
Temple frowned, though whether it was the name or the way Harry was forcing the pace of the conversation wasn’t plain.
“Imagine, for it became common knowledge after a time, what attitude the Sussex men have for their fellow smugglers in Kent.”
“I doubt it’s warm.”
“You are right, Mr Ludlow. Competition ensures that there is little love lost anyway. But history conspires to make them even more suspicious.”
“So when someone like Bertles, so clearly a Deal man, starts purloining their contraband …?” Harry left the conclusion up in the air.
Temple wasn’t pleased. He gave Harry a suspicious look. “I find you know a great deal more than I suspected, Mr Ludlow.”
“You forget, Temple, that I was aboard the Planet. I saw Bertles at his labours.”
“How many times?” snapped Temple.
“Just the once,” replied Harry evenly. “I was returning home from Flushing after eighteen months abroad.”
Harry could see that Temple wanted to pursue that line, for reasons that he neither understood or cared about. He posed a quick question, beating Temple to it. “Did your being in Sussex have anything to do with Bertles’s activities?”
There was anger now, along with a decided mistrust at the pace of Harry’s thinking. “It had everything to do with it, sir. I went there, personally, to reassure Trench and his people that we knew of Bertles, what he was about, and that we would take care of him ourselves.”
“What did you have in mind?” asked Harry, softly. “The fate of that young exciseman, Charlie Taverner? Burial in a cellar?”
Harry felt he had hit home. Temple bit his lip in an effort not to react. Instead he fought to keep his face from betraying his feelings, and waved his hand in an uncharacteristically fey gesture. “That is academic now, is it not?”
It was then that the truth started
to dawn on Harry. “Did you see Trench?”
“Of course.”
“When?”
“What difference does that make!”
“You said that you have been away two weeks, sir. Yet you saw Trench, who was off the coast of France seven days ago. That means you met him at the start of your visit. It follows that if you did, you gave him your reassurances. Yet within days Obidiah Trench found Bertles trying to steal his goods. Are you sure you didn’t alert Trench, and give him carte blanche to kill Bertles, in any manner he chose?” Temple was silent, which Harry took as an acknowledgement. “I’ve seen him and heard him, Temple. The man is as mad as he is dangerous. The way he murdered Bertles and his crew was sheer barbarism. Did you throw him the crew, or was he supposed to leave them be?”
“I think I have made a mistake in underestimating you, Mr Ludlow,” said Temple coldly.
The way that Trench and Quested had talked to each other came sharply back in to focus in Harry’s mind. Not friendly, for sure. But for the two men to be dealing with each other at all, behind the gang leader’s back, argued that Temple was far from secure in his own backyard. “Have you underestimated Trench, as well?” he asked.
“That is my concern, sir!”
There was a hint of self-satisfaction about that, as though the subject, like the late Bertles, was academic.
“I take leave to differ. Trench has attempted to kill me three times. I cannot believe that he will stop trying.”
“If your presence aboard the Planet was, as you say, an unfortunate coincidence, then this can be remedied. Trench hoped that he would find the owner of Bertles’s ship at the same time as he found his thief. Perhaps he thinks you are that person.”
“I begin to see. You offered both Bertles and the man who financed him as peace offerings.”
Again Temple declined to acknowledge Harry’s statement, merely repeating Braine’s reassurances. “If there has been a misunderstanding, it can be remedied.”
“Would there be any point in my asking whose name you gave Trench?”
Temple dismissed this. “I didn’t give him a name, Ludlow. The information we had came from an unimpeachable source, but it didn’t run to a name. But when Trench pressed me, which he did, most emphatically, I gave him what information I had.”
“For some reason he has confused me with this fellow. I really think that I too should be privy to that information. I too would like to locate him.”
“To warn him, no doubt. No, Ludlow. If Trench wants him, let him have the fool.”
“How much faith do you repose in Trench?”
The sudden change in direction rattled him. He reacted sharply. “That, if I may say so, sir, is truly none of your concern!”
“Perhaps not. But he hails from the same part of Sussex as the Hawkhurst gang. He certainly shares their taste for violent solutions. When we were off the coast in Bertles’s ship, I saw three sets of masts, all somewhat larger than any lugger or the twelve-oared cutters you use. He’s working on an industrial scale, Temple. That might present a worry to a man who could remember what things were like in the sixties.”
Temple’s eyebrows arched, making him look like a character in the drama, a man playing the part of a patent liar. “Mr Ludlow, for the life of me, I cannot see what you are hinting at.”
“Can you not, sir? I think you can. You saw Obidiah Trench two weeks ago. You gave him your message, whatever it was. Yet you didn’t return home when he sailed to intercept Bertles.” Temple’s face was like a mask, but his blue eyes were blazing with anger. “You see, sir, I was wondering what it was that detained you in Sussex.”
“I do not answer to you for my social life, sir.”
“Could it be that you saw Trench, with his uncontrollable nature, as a threat? A revival of the Hawkhurst days? That you stayed around to see if there was another who might consent to help dispose of him?”
Temple stood up abruptly. “Your speculations are useless, Mr Ludlow.”
“Are they, sir? As useless as your attempts to replace Obidiah Trench with a more amenable gang leader?”
Harry stood also, moving closer to Temple. It was guesswork, he acknowledged. But it was, judging by Temple’s irate reactions, close to the mark. The concerns of warring smugglers didn’t worry him at all. But it so happened that this particular conflict, if there was one, suited his needs perfectly.
“What would concern me, sir, if I were you, is the possibility that Trench may discover your attempts to oust him.”
Temple tried to smile as he replied, tried to stare Harry down, but the worry was there in those eyes. Not fear, for Temple wasn’t like that, but trouble perceived. “You have an over-endowed imagination, sir.”
“Do I, Mr Temple?” Harry was close enough now to let Temple feel the warmth of his breath. And it was warm for his words were full of passion. “Your right-hand man does business with Trench, without informing you. How can you doubt that Trench knows of your activities? I am probably going to kill Trench. I am going to take a ship to his rendezvous on the French coast, emulate Bertles by thieving his goods, and invite him to pursue me. Once out of sight of land, I will turn and destroy him. Then I shall come ashore and crow about the fact that I have nailed a notorious smuggler. There is, I believe, a reward for such a thing.” It was now Harry’s turn to smile, as he dropped his voice to a more normal tone. “I cannot be sure what your plans are, sir. But should mine fall in with yours in any way, then you must inform me.”
“Why?”
Temple didn’t realise it, but with that one word he confirmed all that Harry had been saying. “There could be repercussions which would affect matters in Deal. If you were to assist me, that could be avoided.”
Something in Harry’s look must have alerted Temple. “You merely seek assistance.”
“No, sir, I do not. There is also a price to pay.”
“Which is?”
“Two people tried to murder me last night. There were others, but they were mere pawns, so I must let their presence pass. But the man who assisted Trench, who set up the whole subterfuge, such as your impersonation, the man who took the money as payment for my delivery—”
“Quested,” said Temple, interrupting impatiently.
“That’s right, Mr Temple. He also has very likely betrayed you to Trench, so that he can succeed you as the leader of the Aldington gang. I don’t want Quested to disappear. I want him harmed. You can throw him to the Preventatives if you like, as a feather in their cap, to make up for Bertles. As to the crime he’s accused of, choose for yourself. I don’t care if he hangs, spends the rest of his life in a lead mine, or ends up transported. But I want him paid out, for if you don’t do it, I most certainly will—but in my own manner!”
Temple had to step back in the face of Harry’s anger. “You ask a great deal.”
“I offer a great deal in return. You cannot doubt that Trench knows about your manoeuvres, just as you are aware of the type of man he is. You sort out Quested, and I assure you that I will take care of Obidiah Trench.”
Temple stood for a moment, ruminating on Harry’s offer. He bent over and picked up his hat from the table by his chair, then, standing erect, put out his hand. “It seems we are to be temporary partners, Mr Ludlow.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THEY CAME BACK to Cheyne Court before first light, entirely unmolested, calling in the pickets that Arthur had set on their way to the house. No one was up at that time of the day. Arthur, as a precaution, had made himself a bed in the hallway. He lay there in his cot, snoring gently, the stubble of his thick ginger hair exposed for once, with a loaded musket and a pair of pistols by his side. In repose his face had none of that hauteur which seemed so natural when he was upright. Harry and Pender, having removed their boots, made their way to the kitchen, stole some of Mrs Cray’s fresh bread, covered it with dripping, ate hungrily, then went gratefully to bed.
That morning, with their captain still sound asleep, the first of
Harry’s crew started to drift in. These were proper sailors, clearly identifiable by their dress and pigtails, men who had served in a man-o’-war before they ever took Harry Ludlow’s money. They knew how to hand, reef, and steer, and could carry out their tasks without any of the shouting and starting so common on a king’s ship. Any naval captain, in the present shortage, would give his eyes and teeth to have them on board. They would be a prize catch for the numerous press gangs. Yet these same sailors could walk the length and breadth of England and not be taken up.
And, it transpired, Arthur had only to contact one and the rest followed. Whatever method they had worked out to communicate with each other operated better than the postal service. They arrived in twos and threes, slung their hammocks in one of the barns, and set to with a will to turn their temporary home, to them so full of animal filth, into something more habitable. Within two days the barn was scrubbed clean, with hammocks slung and all the men Harry expected fully mustered.
Tite was as pleased as Punch, swapping yarns and informing all and sundry that he was a true blue-water sailor, as well as boring them to distraction about his years of service. They listened politely to his boasting but held him as a person of no account, a mere servant by land and sea. But this Pender fellow, with whom they’d never served, so obviously close to the man who had been their captain, was a different number altogether. The man was not a proper sailor, bred to the sea, even if he did seem to know his stuff; or at least he didn’t dress himself like one. But he had an air of confidence which under normal circumstances might have commanded respect. So they were unsure how he fitted in. Harry Ludlow took great care to issue his orders through him. Not that there were many of those, for they were a crew without a ship.
Yet hints to the man that he should relate something of his background were met with silence, for Pender, though friendly enough, was not slack-mouthed, and certainly not the type you could ask to explain himself outright. So they pressed Tite for details, and given the old servant’s natural malice, were not overly impressed with what they heard.
Hanging Matter Page 25