by David O'Neil
Barbara vowed to set things right and arranged for a party for them both. The setting was the Knightsbridge house, and the guest list was minimal; just two, plus of course Robert, Barbara, Jenny and briefly little David. The arrangement was simple and effective. Before dinner Jenny and David were introduced to the guests and whisked off upstairs while the adults had drinks and sat down to eat. The leisurely and homely atmosphere after dinner encouraged the sort of relaxed conversation that Barbara had anticipated.
Robert was called away first by a message leaving Barbara to make excuses for his absence. Then the nanny came for Barbara, Margaret and Jean both rose to leave but Barbara would nor hear of it and sent Margaret to show Jean the newly created garden, while she dealt with the emergency.
The two wandered round the garden chatting in the idle way of friends exchanging comments on the world and the garden and everything other than what really occupied both minds.
Then Margaret stumbled and Jean’s hand was there to catch and save her from falling. She caught her breath and Jean put his arm around her waist to support her, it seemed that for both, time stood still. The moment stretched until it seemed it would never end, as Margaret looked up at her saviour Jean leaned down and kissed her on the lips, lightly. They both smiled, straightened, and arm in arm went back into the house. When Barbara came down she found them both chatting quietly as if they had been friends for years rather than only having seen each other on two occasions before.
They made their excuses and left shortly after with Jean promising to see Margaret home in his carriage.
Margaret lived in a cottage in Chelsea, a village west of Knightsbridge bordering the river; the accommodation used by the Captain when in London was across the river at Southwark.
Rather than keep the carriage, he sent it off when he dropped Margaret at her house, intending to walk to Chelsea pier and take a boat from there to Southwark.
As the carriage left, Margaret suggested he might like a warn drink before he took the walk in the fresh night air.
The cottage shared by Margaret and her son Michael, age seven, was comfortable and reflected the gentle nature of its owner. Margaret prepared the posset of rum herself and seated herself while he drank. In the carriage conversation had been stilted, both on the edge of their seats hesitating because of the warmth earlier between them, neither trusting their feelings. Whether it was the rum or perhaps it would have happened anyway, Jean leaned forward and spoke directly to Margaret, “When I kissed you this evening I did not wish you to think me forward.” He stopped not sure how to go on. She put her finger to his lips “When we kissed,” she corrected him. “I think something happened?”
The directness of her remark took him aback, then emboldened by her frankness “For me it certainly did, I did not wish to stop. I wanted the moment to go on forever!”
“So did I. I prayed you would continue holding me, and that time would stand still. I confess to having the feeling that I have found a new love in you, sir.” She sounded flustered and confused as she spoke.
“Oh, Margaret, please I could not be happier. I will try to demonstrate my love for you every day of my life, if you will but give me the chance.”
They kissed and held each other for what seemed ages but was in fact just a few minutes before he rose. “I must leave, but if I may, I will call tomorrow, for we need to tell our friends so they may join us in our happiness.”
Margaret smiled, “Barbara knows already, I could tell she knew and I believe we can thank her for our meeting in the first place, do you not agree?”
After a few moments Jean smiled ruefully, “Gulled. We were gulled. Thank the lord for our friends.”
He kissed her once more and left to pace along the embankment path to Chelsea Pier.
HMS Furious was finished at last, at least with the Chatham yard, and Robert had her sailed round to Plymouth by his First Lieutenant Martin Walker. At Plymouth, Walker found a strange situation, the crew of Roister had been replaced almost entirely with men from other ships, mainly from the returned galley slaves from Bone. The bulk of the crew including the Master, Sam Callow, and the Purser, Abel Jackson, had been reassigned to Furious along with Captain Ullyet and his reinforced number of marines. The rifles, uniforms and field gun had followed, so the Captain had found familiar faces on all sides when he boarded at Plymouth to accept his command.
The three Captains sat at the table in the Angel Inn. Having dined earlier, they were enjoying their pipes and discussing the possibilities of action against the French. Robert casually glanced around the room and realised that they were being observed. The bearded man watching the three had grey hair and the look of a parson. Then he realised he knew him. Excusing himself, he rose nodded to the parson and went out to the yard. After a moment the parson followed. “You took a risk being here, you know. They will still hang you if you are caught?”
Peter Tregarth, for that was who it was, smiled grimly, “I’ll not be caught, and I needed to know Adam was alright.”
“My wife told you we would look after him, he is safe and doing well, soon he will qualify as Master and at his age could well become a Commander in due time.”
“I understand he is on your ship, and that’s why I came to see you. You kept your word to me and the boy, so I’ve come to warn you. I’m just come in from New York. I return in two days, on the schooner Abigail Morrow, lying at Falmouth, taking cargo.” He coughed and cleared his throat and continued. “The word is murder; you are marked for death by the Whinns family, headquartered at Marazion. They’re serious folk and they will take you or your family. I reckoned I owed you and your lady. Now I feel better, you may tell the boy I’ll write when I can, if you will.”
As he turned to go Robert held out his hand, after a moment Peter grinned and took it “Why not?” he said.
“Why not indeed?” Robert watched him leave the yard and walked back into the Inn deep in thought.
The three Captains discussed the warning given by Adam’s brother. John Keith suggested that Barbara and the children spend time in London until the danger was over. Captain Beaufort was in agreement but as an alternative suggested perhaps moving to Harwell Hall might be the answer.
Captain Willets came in and joined them. After he had settled down with a drink in his hand, Robert asked him about the Whinns family.
“Yes I know of them, a nasty bunch and frustrated at the moment by your coast watcher program. The way it is set up it means they can’t make forward plans. It seems their only way to avoid capture is to wait for a foggy night, and they are few enough at this time of year.”
Robert told him of the threat, “I wouldn’t worry too much about that, smugglers are always making threats but they seldom carry them out.”
“What if the warning comes from a source I trust?”
“Well that could be different; I suspect the Whinns have already killed several people within the county. No proof mind you, but they are a rough lot. It might be an idea to send the family away for a while and we’ll see if we can sort out the Whinns meantime.”
All four thought about this for some time then John Keith suggested that a visit to the family might be worthwhile. They discussed things back and forth for a while before they went their separate ways.
It was two days later that Barbara shot the footpad. While returning home from a ride along the river with Jenny, two men sprang from the trees and grabbed the headstalls of the two horses, nearly causing Jenny to come off.
Both ladies, whilst taken aback, maintained a calm attitude causing one of the men to call to the other, “We got a cool pair of damsels here. Fred; they’ll not go to waste neither.” He leered at the two women. “Your young ‘un looks a bit of all right, mine’ll do me well.”
“Just what have you two louts got in mind?” Barbara’s voice was cool and she showed no sign of fear despite the coarse attitudes of the men.
The first man produced a pistol and waved it at Barbara, “Just step down,
ladies, and we’ll talk down here on the ground like.”
“No!” Barbara’s voice cracked like a whip. “Who has paid you to harass us like this?”
“Saucy, aren’t you, lady. Suppose I say it’s my own idea?”
“Suppose I say you’re a liar?” Barbara was keeping him talking—praying someone else would appear along the path.
Jenny kept nudging her horse, making the man at his head have to adjust his position and hold to keep the horse under control. In the struggle to keep the horse controlled he bumped into Barbara’s horse causing it to plunge against the hand holding its head.
“Barbara reached down while the man was occupied and drew and cocked the small pistol kept in the pouch by the saddle. Jenny who was watching lashed the face of the man at her horses head with her crop, drawing a red line across his right cheek. He screamed and let go of the horse. Jenny slashed him again as he stood holding his face. Her horse was rearing and lashing out with its hooves. Barbara’s assailant was trying to hold the horse and his pistol. He lifted it and aimed at Jenny. Before he could fire Barbara shot him. He fell to the ground gasping blood spilling down his front from the wound high in his chest.
The second man, half-blind from the blows of the riding crop, stepped into a kick from the horse that took him in the knee and he fell screaming to the ground beside his partner.
“Jenny, fetch the grooms!” Barbara swung down to the ground and hitched her horse to a tree branch. Then she reloaded her pistol and recovered that of her attacker.
She turned to the two men on the ground, “Right. Whose idea was this? Who paid you to attack us? Out with it, I can shoot you both and no one would say a word. Well, perhaps they might say what a brave person I am, tackling two footpads and killing them both. I would willingly shoot you both dead. You threatened unspeakable things to my ward.”
The whipped man said “Please don’t shoot, Missis, we was told to rough you up a bit, maybe hurt you a little.”
“With a pistol?” Barbara was unconvinced.
“The wounded man spoke. “We were told to kill you both and use you as we will before we finish, to punish Sir Robert. I would not of killed you, honest’ I couldn’t.”
“Who told you to do this?” Barbara cocked her pistol.
“John Whinn from Marazion.” he said finally. “Now, you might as well pull the trigger for we are both already as good as dead.” He fell back, still bleeding.
Jenny returned with two of the grooms from the house, with the gig. They loaded the two men on the carriage and the little group went up to Tamar House, led by the ladies on horseback.
Later that day Captain Willet looked sadly at the bandaged figure on the bunk. “You’ll suffer when you hang,” he said sadly. “Pity you have to take the blame for someone else. Still, it’s your funeral.” He turned and started to leave the cell.
“Wait!” The voice was panicky. “Is there any way……?” the words trailed off.
“Of saving your worthless necks?” Willet finished for him.“Well, yes I suppose there would be a chance if you gave Kings Evidence.”
“Would I have to speak in court?”
“You would, but if the evidence can be proved; the Whinns will go to the gibbet, not you. Otherwise you will surely hang.”
He turned to leave once more, but as the door closed he heard the cry once more.
“Wait, please wait.”
He re-entered looking weary “What now, more questions?”
“My name is Corbett, and my family mined tin and copper for generations in the county. The Whinns arrived ten years ago and started smuggling, I got the feeling they come from Dorset way, maybe Hampshire. The mines have been failing for years with fewer jobs to be had, so my dad told me to leave home and find work.
“I was up and down the county looking, getting some pickings here, and chopping wood there, but no real job. I met John Whinn in Boscastle, he was looking for a new boat and he found one but he needed a crew to take her round to St Mawes. I’ve done a bit on the boats so I signed on for the trip. When we arrived he had no job on the boat but he said he’d give me work on the shore. I been humping ever since.
“This job was the first I had like this I thought the ladies were doxies putting on flash style. We were trying to scare them while we had some fun.” His voice droned to a halt.
“Who told you to attack the ladies?”
“Why that was John Whinn himself, he gives the orders, though I do believe Ma Whinn tells him what to do. ‘Finish them’, he said, ‘make a real mess of them’. I couldn’t do that I’m no killer. I would have told him they got away but I would have had my fun first, she was a beauty.”
“How many Whinns are there?” Willet was interested.
“There’s John, Joel and the youngster Michael, though he doesn’t count; he knows naught of what happens. Then there’s Mary, John’s wife, she’s a beauty but vicious, enjoys hurting folk. And last there’s Ma. As I say, she’s worst of the lot. I’m sure she gives the orders. You want to catch one, catch them all—otherwise you’ll regret it.”
He stopped and took a drink of water then, “There is a run being made to Mousehole in three days, six ponies at the quay; the rest goes by boat across Mounts Bay to Marazion. The Whinns will be on the boat. If you meet them and follow them home you’ll get the lot.” He stopped, breathing hard still suffering from his wound. “Will that make a difference?”
Willets stared at him for a moment. “If what you say is true, I’ll see what I can do. I should save you from the rope, but only if this is all true.” He turned and left the cell, and went seeking Captain Graham.
Robert and Captain Willet got together that evening to discuss the plans for taking the Whinns. The problem would be following without being seen. The watch system was working well and it was difficult to accept that the delivery could be undertaken without being reported in the normal way.
They decided to take the Schooner Amy, because of her speed and also because she was similar to the other runners in use at the time. They sailed before midnight for Falmouth with thirty men aboard, mainly from the crew of the Furious, armed with their rifles as well as swords and pistols.
By morning the party of ten men under Robert were put ashore at Helford River, the ship left for the ambush at Mounts Bay. Robert and his party took horses with the local Preventive men and rode for Marazion via Helston.
Changing horses in the town, and then riding on through the afternoon to the hills around Marazion, the group rested after their tiring journey, and having identified the house through Robert’s telescope, they settled down to wait for nightfall when they could close up to the house for the final ambush.
On the Amy, Captain Willet launched the longboat and landed the other riflemen at Lamorna Cove. The local watcher met them and steered them on the right road for Mousehole, north along the coast, just two miles away. They settled down out of sight and waited for dark.
The farmer on whose land they stayed found he was being held captive in his own house, but on being paid for it, he happily arranged for food for the party and waited with them to see what would happen. Willet was intrigued to discover that the Whinns were feared and disliked all along the coast around Mounts Bay.
John Whinn had hurt several of the local lads who did a little smuggling on the side. This had stopped the local enterprise but caused him to be resented, and in some cases, hated.
The cutter crept into the Bay from the south, no lights showing and the only indication that she was on the way was the jingle of the harness as the ponies were brought to the quay.
Captain Willet and his men had moved into the village and were waiting for the pack train to leave. The boat was going on to Marazion when it left the quay but he did not want to alarm the Whinns.
The jingle of the bit chains and the clop of the hooves signalled the approach of the pack train, up the steep hill, no lights showing, no sign that the village was aware of the night visit.
As t
he train came over the brow of the hill the ambushers appeared and the smugglers found themselves hemmed in with rifles aimed. None had the nerve to protest, they were completely surprised.
The cutter sailed across the Bay to the other shore, followed by the Preventive longboat with muffled oars. They lay off watching the transfer of goods from the cutter to a wagon, and only when the wagon and men departed did they pull in and land. Five men took the cutter, the other ten followed the sounds of the wagon through the village to the big stone house that was once the Rectory but now owned by the Whinn family.
The longboat men were stopped by Robert’s lookout who had been sent to meet them. When the wagon was unloaded and the goods taken within the house the signal was given; and Robert and his men moved in.
The knock on the door was answered by an impatient man who demanded to know who it was at this time of night. He was thrust aside and the men pushed into the house to find the family gathered in the main room. A fresh barrel of Brandy stood in the centre of the floor and two bolts of silk lay in the chair beside the old woman.
Robert guessed the old woman was the mother, and her shrill voice demanded to know what was happening. A pistol shot brought one of the men of the family down as he lashed out with a knife at Robert who was in the forefront of the intruders.
“You are all under arrest for importing goods on which duty has not been paid. As he spoke there came a thunderous knocking at the door, which burst open under the assault. There was a flash and bang as guns fired in the confined space and the room became a melee of fighting men and women. Robert was attacked by a woman with a knife. She was a shapely, dark-haired woman of middle height, though Robert was not seriously interested in her looks, the surprise and the viciousness of her attack were taking him all his time to fend her off. She slashed at his face with the knife that cut the cloth of his collar. He struck her with the hilt of his sword, stunning her. The man behind her pulled her back out of the way to receive Robert’s blade in his neck. The man desperately tried to reach Robert with the club in his hand but he subsided with a sigh in a heap on the floor. The woman screamed and returned to the attack crying “You killed my John; die, you bastard, die.” A back swung sword caught her across the throat and she stopped as it drew a reddening line across her neck. The wound had been inflicted without the swordsman knowing, he being busy with another hand to hand struggle. She folded and fell across her man her blood mixing with the pool of blood from the dead man.