by David O'Neil
At the meeting held in the drawing room of Tamar Manor, many of the Law officers of the two counties were present.
“I have called you here together to inform you that the time has come to stop the smuggling that is prevalent in our area. We are all aware, I am sure, of the identities of the leading members of the smuggling gangs and I am sure you will all agree that the lawlessness that these operations are responsible for must cease.” Robert stopped and looked around at the group.
“I have been given the task of clearing up matters in this area, and I am calling upon you all as leading members of the Law Administration of the community to assist in any way that you can.” Robert sat down, yielding the floor to Sir Arthur Murray, Lord Lieutenant of the County of Cornwall.
“Gentlemen” he started, and then turning to Barbara and inclining his head “and Lady Barbara of course. I have been made aware of the problem of smuggling in this area for many years, and though I have tried on many occasions to stop it, I have never managed to do more than slow it down.
“In achieving even this small success; twelve officers in the Preventative service have been killed over the last ten years. What solution can you propose, that has not already been tried and, up to now, failed?” He sat to a chorus of agreement from others in the room.
A small wiry man, Captain Willet in command of the Customs Service in the local area, rose to his feet from the back of the room and said bitterly.
“In the past whenever we planned a raid we were betrayed. Too many of the wealthy in this area find it convenient to have a source of cheap Brandy; aye and other things hard to come by in this damned war. As Sir Arthur said, twelve of my Officers have died trying to do their work for King and Country, only to be betrayed and killed by their own countrymen.
“When we caught that Senior Magistrate in possession of Brandy and tobacco enough to stock and supply half of Cornwall, what happened? All a mistake they said, he didn’t know the goods were untaxed. Fined him £50.00 and seized the goods.
“They transported his Housekeeper for actually buying the goods on his behalf and the seized goods were auctioned off to his friends at knockdown prices. How can we fight that?”
Robert rose to his feet. “Barbara, gentlemen, I propose that we elect a committee here and now to study this problem. From there we will create an operation group who will keep all plans within the group. If betrayal occurs we will know it is within the group, and any action will then be taken by the group who will be responsible for any outcome. I suggest the group be comprised of Captain Willet of the Preventative Service, One senior Law Officer, Sir Arthur perhaps, a Magistrate;” his eye swept the room settling on the well-fed figure of Rebus Gowan, squire and Justice of the Peace for Kingsbridge, “….and a landowner, can we call upon Sir Charles Wellworthy of Dartmeet. I will act as Chairman and in conjunction with Captain Willet, will provide the armed arresting parties. Can I ask those gentlemen to remain after this meeting?” Robert seated himself as the buzz of conversation that followed his short speech filled the room.
Barbara leaned over to him. “You didn’t give them much choice?”
“If I allowed them to choose we would still be here at midnight, and the whole business would have descended into the sort of muddle that has been the problem in the past.
“Secrecy, keeping the smugglers guessing is the answer to the failures in the past. Using information from local informants we can make a difference, and providing we keep our sources protected, we will get cooperation. The bigger problem we are up against is indiscretion, innocent revelation of our plans and sources.”
***
Two weeks later, the five men comprising the committee sat around the table in the dining room of Tamar House. The second meeting of the action committee was in progress.
Captain Willet said, “Since we are agreed, gentlemen, I will be ready to act as soon as we get the date and time of the next run. It’s time to crimp the operations of the Tregarth family.”
The meeting broke up and the members dispersed to their homes in the carriages lined up outside the colonnaded porch.
Rebus Gowan sat with a sigh in the heavily-cushioned interior of his coach. The matched bay horses pulled powerfully up the long hill leading out of Plymouth to the East and his home in Kingsbridge. His thoughts were concerned with getting information to his associates without making it apparent that he had betrayed his colleagues on the committee. By the time he reached the gates of his house he had made a decision. Rapping on the roof he called his coachman to take him to the Samphire Inn at the riverside. The coachman steered the coach carefully through the gates of the Inn yard as dusk fell, and hurried to assist his master to descend from the coach.
Chapter thirteen
The portly Magistrate brushed past his coachman and entered the inn by the side door leading to the snug, the small room kept for special friends of the landlord. The three men within the room looked up at his entrance then returned to their conversation as Gowan subsided gratefully onto the large chair reserved especially for his bulky figure.
A glass was placed before him and he drank deeply then addressed the gathering as his glass was refilled. “Well, boys this had been a fruitful day, in fact I would say a very fruitful day. The committee has decided to concentrate on the Tregarth family which means we can breathe easy for a week or so. Good time to run a cargo ‘eh. Ted?”
Ted Moult sneered. “And when, Rebus Gowan, did you decide you could start ordering me about? Tis enough we have to cut you in on our fair gained profits. Would you now expect us to jump to your tune?” He drank from his tankard of ale and called for another.
Rebus Gowan thought for a minute before he replied. “If you wish to carry on trading in this area perhaps you would like to remember that you operate here through my good offices, I could replace you in a moment, so it’s in your interest to listen when I tell you something, do I have your attention?”
The three men wriggled with embarrassment then nodded, Ted Moult was thinking maybe he had had a little too much to drink; he could not afford to upset the old bastard. As Magistrate he had the power to deport him to Botany Bay if he wished, but one day...
Rebus spoke. “Perhaps you could consider what I am saying here for a moment. I think if we ran the next cargo soon, landing at Womwell Beach rather than the river here, we could keep the trail away from me. As long as I remain unsuspected I can bring information to keep us in business. Can you all understand what I am saying. I know where the Preventive men will be every night, so we can run cargo whenever we will!” He sat back with a sigh and drank from his glass.
The other three men thought about this and eventually Ted Moult answered for them all. “Right. That makes a lot of sense; I have to meet the brothers off Start Point at nine. We’ll be using your fishing boat, Bill.” He turned to the taller of his two companions. “We’re bringing in ten o’ brandy and four kegs of Baccy, silk, lace and spice. If we land at Womwell Beach we need to make sure that the pack animals are there ready by half past eleven. It’s easy to unload on the beach but the moon’ll be with us by twelve-thirty so we’ll need to get a move on. Store the stuff in the Dolphin Inn in Kingston Village; if we run into trouble we can we can use the passage down to Wiscombe to get the stuff out by sea again. Any questions?” Since nobody had anything to say, he sat back and finished his drink.
Rebus arose from the comfort of his chair and said good night, he walked outside and boarded the waiting coach. “Home!” he bawled at the driver, who set off down the road once more for the house on the outskirts of the town.
In the Half Moon Inn, Robert sat quietly discussing things with Captain Willet. He sat back for a moment and looked directly at John Willet. “Who do you think is our traitor?”
Willet studied the content of his glass for a few moments. “If you want proof, I can’t help. My opinion is Rebus Gowan’s the informer and I’d be willing to bet that he’s involved in the business up to his neck. Why? Because he com
es from a shore cottage at Bigbury, his Ma took in washing from the fishermen after her husband died at sea. She died at the tub they say and that idle bugger never lifted a hand. He had left home to work for the local vicar who taught him to read and do figures. From there he went to the clerk’s office in the Court House; made a name for himself keeping the books and lining his pockets doing favours for folk. His mother never got a penny from him. Like I say, she died still scratching a living while he was already beginning to lord it around Kingsbridge. He wed the daughter of the Draper in town and took over the books and the business when the old man died. He was made a Justice of the Peace when the post came vacant. Nobody dared run against him. They reckon half the town was in debt to him by this time so he could do as he liked.
“That was when he decided to join the gentry. That was when he found out that it took more than money and position to be a gentleman. I don’t think he’s given up the idea; just put it to one side until he becomes rich enough to bribe his way in.”
“That’s it, then? You think it’s him because you don’t like him?” Robert was not entirely convinced.
“Lord no. I think he’s involved because he holds private meetings in the Samphire Inn in Kingsbridge with the biggest smuggler in that part of the county, Ted Moult!”
Robert grinned, “You don’t think he is trying to get information for the Committee then?”
“If he is, he’s forgotten to tell us that there is going to be a pick-up off Start Point at nine o’clock tomorrow tonight, landing at Womwell Beach by eleven thirty.”
Robert looked at John Willet, “Tomorrow? Landing at eleven thirty tomorrow night?”
John Willet nodded. “My man listened to the entire conversation while they sat in the snug bar. Only my man and the landlord know of the spy panel behind the settle in the snug, and my man—when he saw Rebus come—slid into position before Rebus was seated and heard the whole conversation.
“Seems Rebus thinks he’s the king of the local smugglers, telling them what they may do or not do. Ted Moult don’t like it one bit. I reckon one day he’ll save us all trouble by ‘arranging’ Mr. Rebus. That is, if Ted can stay out of prison after tomorrow night.”
“How many men do you need? They’re sharpshooters you know?”
Willet thought for a few minutes. “Ten should be enough if you can spare them.”
“Good, you concentrate on the smugglers when they come ashore; we’ll go after the ships after we stop the shore side. I’ll be at sea with Leclerc in Delft off Looe. We’re putting pressure on Tregarth wherever we can; we are working to get them jittery so that they make mistakes.”
The two men left the inn and walked down the dark street towards the Docks.
The attack came as they passed the entrance to one of the many yards along the seaward side of the street. John Willet heard the scuff of shoe against the wall, he immediately grabbed Robert’s arm in warning and both drew their swords. There were five men altogether and they rushed out, brandishing clubs. Robert slashed the nearest across the face with the edge of his blade and finished the stroke with a stab in the chest for the man behind, both reeled back and out of the fight, John Willet had his back to the wall and was fighting off two men as the third circled looking for a way into the conflict. Robert shouted at him and cut him on the arm with the cutting edge of his sword.
He felt a fierce pain in his left shoulder and swung round to face his second victim withdrawing his sword to strike again. Almost casually Robert ran him through, his sword entering just under the ribcage of his attacker, who fell, coughing blood, to the ground.
John had despatched one of his opponents and the other seeing himself outnumbered turned and ran, leaving his four companions groaning on the ground.
The man with the slashed face staggered to his feet and ran off holding his ruined cheek together. The other three were still on the ground, the one Robert had run through was now obviously dead. The others were moaning and clutching their wounds. “Leave them to sort out their own!” John growled. “They are hired thugs.”
Seeing Robert lean against the wall he was immediately concerned. “Are you all right, did they get you?” He ran over and supported Robert as he began to feel the effect of the stab wound in his back. He helped Robert back to the Half Moon and banged on the door. The door flung open.
“What is all thi…. Come in! Lizzie, the Captain’s been hurt, quick now!” They hurried the wounded man into the parlour and Lizzie appeared and took the cloak from around Robert’s shoulders. The bloody area where the blade had penetrated was high in the fleshy part of his left shoulder. The men took off his jacket and tore the shirt away from the wound that was still bleeding; it was quickly staunched by Lizzie putting pressure on the wound using the torn shirt.
“Sam, fetch hot water and some fresh cloths and bring my bag of possibles, quick now. Captain John, nip into the bar and get a bottle of the good brandy.”
The men ran about their errands, Sam returned quickly with a bowl of water from the stove. When the brandy arrived Elizabeth soaked the clean cloth brought by Sam with the spirit and cleaned the area round the wound, causing Robert to wince. From her bag of possibles, she removed a needle and thread. John looked at these items dubiously. “Should I call the Doctor?”
“No, the quicker this is done the better.” Elizabeth was firm and proceeded to plunge the needle into Robert’s back and stitch up the wound with a series of neat loops. With a pad she covered her handiwork. Only a little blood was now seeping from the wound as she finished off with a bandage to hold the pad in place.
“Now just you lie back and relax, sir. Here’s a drop of brandy to settle your stomach. Out, you men! Leave the Captain to rest.” She ushered the men from the room while Robert sank back with a sigh of relief.
Outside the room Elizabeth gave her orders: to Sam to send a message to Tamar House to say the Captain would be sleeping at the Inn; to Captain Willet, go to the ship and fetch Doctor Sweet to the Captain to make sure all was well.
The Carriage arrived within the hour and Barbara came into the Inn with a flurry of skirts and a waft of Lavender. Taken to Robert she was immediately reassured that he was feeling only slightly the worse for his wound.
The Doctor then arrived and examined Robert’s wound, pronouncing Elizabeth’s work to be first class. Robert was then permitted to rest once more while Barbara and Elizabeth sat and drank tea together, chatting quietly about the general situation.
The morning brought a rather sore Captain Graham to the quarterdeck of Roister having boarded at daybreak and despatched Captain Willet’s party of sharpshooters by the cutter, Relentless to be landed after dark on Wiscombe Beach, down below Kingston Village. The short cross country march would bring them to Womwell Beach where the landing was due to take place.
As long as the men were concealed in time the surprise should be complete. The shore party under Captain Willet would gather above the beach staying concealed while the smugglers brought the pack animals down.
Under the command of Captain Ullyet the riflemen would not show themselves until after the challenge was made by Captain Willet. If the smugglers surrendered to Captain Willet, the rifles would remain quiet and out of sight. Robert did not wish to publicise his secret weapon too soon and as long as the presence of the rifle detachment stayed secret, the smugglers would be unprepared to counter their threat.
The outline of the masts of the lugger stood out against the skyline. The clear, starry night was light enough to betray her as she anchored off the beach at Womwell. She stood off a good half cable from the shallow shelving beach, which here swept round to the point in a great arc of smooth sand at the mouth of the River Erme.
A group of pack horses meandered down the path to the river side, thence onto the soft sand that seemed to absorb the sound reducing it to a shuffle made by the hooves in the soft surface.
At the water’s edge three boats could be seen being dragged up onto the firm sand below the hig
h tide mark. The group of men manhandling the boats were making hard work of shifting the heavily laden craft.
A voice called to bring the horses, and the shadowy men with the animals started to move them towards the water’s edge. No one seemed to notice the flurry of movement among the men with the horses as Willets men replaced the horse holders, successive thuds was the only indication that the horsemen had been replaced, the dark shapes of the unconscious men concealed by the bulk of the advancing horses. A late arrival came running down the beach and stumbled over one of the unconscious men, his call of warning went unnoticed until he cocked his pistol and fired a shot.
At the boats the men immediately started to push the boats the other way, but they had done too well bringing them in and the advancing horsemen scattered the animals and lined up with muskets raised and called on them to surrender. There were eighteen men in the beach party of Captain Willet, the twelve smugglers were in no state to resist. Two ran into the water and struck out for the Lugger, the others raised their hands and were pinioned by the officers. Several shots were fired at the escaping swimmers but with no success.
As Willet reported to Robert next morning, they had captured ten men, all local to the Kingsbridge area, and the three longboats loaded down with contraband. His men were delighted and were quite happy to share the bounty with the riflemen, who were not revealed but were there if needed. The cargo valued in excess of £2500.00 meant that each man involved would receive close on ten pounds, nearly two years’ wages, a fortune to the men involved.
The three longboats were owned by the Moult family, and though Ted Moult had not been seen or identified at the scene, no claim of theft regarding the boats had been made. Thus the boats were seized and disposed of along with the smuggled goods.