‘You know them, Arthur?’
In his reply, he seemed almost ashamed. ‘I made their acquaintance thanks to my cousin, with some difficulty, for no one admits readily to such abilities or even the possession of such a boat. At one time I had it in mind to engage them to bring back my cargo.’
‘But you decided against it?’
‘John, if you were to meet these people you would understand. There are villains in this very city of London, but they pale by comparison to the men of the Kentish coast. Just to be in their presence is to fear for your very soul. If I engaged them I doubt I would see a brass farthing and I would not even be sure my life was safe.’
Pearce remained silent when he could have spoken: he had met such people before in his life, some quite recently from nearby Sandwich, and his opinion had been that they were no more villainous than any other breed. Certainly, when it came to robbery, they need not fear comparison with the rapacious speculators of the City of London.
‘How do we go about engaging such fellows?’ he asked, with a feeling that his rewards were about to sink some more. ‘And paying them?’
It was a glum Arthur Winston who responded. ‘That, I hate to say, is a task and an expense which of necessity must fall to me, to be set, of course, against the future revenues for the whole enterprise.’
It was Pearce’s turn to frown: Arthur Winston was a typical man of business, willing to speculate but not to bear any costs he could pass on. He was about to raise the method of getting back should they fail, but that was not a prospect to which he really wanted to allude. Problems might present themselves, and in the worst case he and his friends would have to risk taking the packet from Flushing to Ramsgate, and at some point Winston would have to provide the funds for such an eventuality.
‘I will require charts and tide tables of the Flanders coast as well as the waters of the Channel, especially inshore ones of the landing place.’ Imagining what could go wrong, the most obvious thing, apart from a failure to secure the ship, was to be intercepted while making the crossing. He had no notion of fancy manoeuvres – it would be ‘set all sail and run’ regardless, putting the vessel aground in an emergency if a Revenue cutter appeared.
‘It goes without saying that these Deal boatmen cannot be told anything, secrecy is essential.’
That made Winston cross. ‘Then why say it?’
‘Only so I can be sure.’
Pearce was with Winston for another hour discussing every facet of the task, gleaning, by dint of subtle enquiry, scraps of information about the ship and the required crew, gaining his confidence so that more was being revealed than it had originally seemed likely that the city man intended to give away. And he hovered between excitement, caution, and sometimes, real fear, till in the end it was Pearce who was steeling him to the project with encouraging words and, finally, a statement of the position.
‘It is simple in essence, Arthur. Right now you have neither your ship nor your profit and seemingly little chance of taking possession of either. With additional expenditure you might have both. So, do we proceed? A firm answer, for I cannot act if you are in doubt.’
Arthur Winston seemed to visibly shake before agreeing, but agree he did. ‘I will set out for Deal first thing tomorrow. For the rest of today, I must see about getting decent prices committed for what we will fetch ashore.’
The latter statement, being made with a more positive tone, led Pearce to suspect that was where Arthur Winston was happiest, making trades.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Emily Barclay was startled when she came down to the parlour to find John Pearce. It was also an awkward moment when Mrs Fletcher, no doubt wondering at what seemed to her a stream of handsome gentlemen callers, lingered a fraction too long and observed the look the couple exchanged: not in any way a very clever woman, she had seen that sort of communion before and she had no doubt that, careful of her own reputation as an upright widow, she might have to keep a sharp eye on this Mrs Barclay. The two potential lovers made sure she was long gone before they joined hands and spoke in near-whispers.
‘I will be gone for a very short period of time, but I also want to reassure you that, should the venture I am about to take come to a happy conclusion, then you may abandon the need for any support from your husband. You will, and I say this with joyful anticipation, become mine to take care of.’
‘John, I—’
‘Hush, Emily. I know you have doubts, just as I know what I am proposing flies in the face of everything you have been brought up to hold dear. It is in your eyes and your diffidence, but, and I say this with as much love as determination, you are dealing with me.’
There was such a temptation then to tell him how she had purloined the papers he thought lost, taking them from Heinrich Lutyens’ instrument chest while he was, with the rest of the crew, fighting the blaze that would eventually destroy HMS Grampus. But would he be grateful, or could such an admission possibly turn him against her? Odd, there was temptation in the latter, a way of ending their intimacy in such a way that she could not blame herself.
‘Is what you propose to do dangerous?’
He grinned, trying to deflect her curiosity. ‘Whatever makes you think that?’
‘Your nature.’
‘Too bold, perhaps, but I fear if I were not, you and I would be in limbo for a very long time.’
‘Such a notion is not without a trace of merit, John, for I seem to be rushing headlong into the unknown, which is not comfortable.’
‘You are the mistress of your own destiny.’ Pearce mentally cursed himself for one word in that statement, and he saw that it registered with Emily to underline her fear. The notion of being any man’s mistress, a kept woman, was one to induce terror, not keen anticipation, so he added quickly, ‘And you are a match for me in boldness.’
‘No, John.’
‘Courage then?’
‘Foolishness, perhaps.’
The opening door had them moving rapidly apart, as Mrs Fletcher appeared with a tray. ‘I thought you might like some tea, Mrs Barclay, you and your gentleman.’
The aplomb with which Emily replied was a marvel to the man who loved her, and yet another example of why he so admired her, for even he could see that the landlady was being overtly nosy.
‘Lieutenant Pearce, Mrs Fletcher, who served with my husband, Captain Barclay, but I am sure you must know that, given the gentleman introduced himself.’
‘Mr Pearce, he said.’
‘Forgive me, madam, for failing to use my rank. I see it as my duty to call upon the wife of a fellow officer …’
‘A fellow officer who is at sea,’ Emily added in the minuscule pause, slightly shocked at her brazen lie. ‘But thank you for your consideration, Mrs Fletcher, the tea will be most welcome.’
With a short curtsy the tray was put down and the landlady departed, Emily whispering, and not happily, once more, as soon as the door was closed, ‘That is just a hint of what I might look forward to.’
It made the rest of their conversation awkward and stilted as they sat and took the tea, of necessity further apart, and it was also plain that Pearce could not linger, for to do so would only inflame what Mrs Fletcher had hinted at by her interruption.
‘I could say you will become accustomed to it, but that would be unkind. All I can avow is that you will be happier, even with such judgements, being with me.’
‘And where will that be, John Pearce?’
‘Wherever you choose to go, Emily, perhaps somewhere that we can live as man and wife without comment.’
‘Man and wife?’ Emily replied, with no great enthusiasm.
‘Emily, I suspect you have yet to taste the joy of being a wife. I will make it my first duty to ensure that is remedied.’
Well aware of what he was driving at, her face went bright red.
That they parted with a stolen kiss did nothing to diminish her confusion. Emily, back in her own room, sat for quite a while in contemplation,
aware that a decision could not be left to just hang; she must make up her mind which course she was going to follow and then set about doing so, and this in a situation where advice from a third party was worth less than a pinch of salt. The word that kept recurring was ‘happiness’, the word she wanted to concentrate on being ‘regret’. What would she suffer in that regard when finally she set her course? That made her smile, it being so much like a nautical allusion.
The choice was not between Ralph Barclay and John Pearce, it was between living alone or with a man she suspected she was in love with, though being of a practical bent she was far from sure what love was supposed to feel like. Emily also knew she was incapable of dithering and that a conclusion was required. Alone, she would be miserable and always at the mercy of her husband; with Pearce she would at least have a chance of some joy in her life, and it was that that allowed her to contemplate undertaking two things. If, and this was another nautical allusion, she was going to nail her colours to the mast, then she would be best to do so wholeheartedly.
She would call at the offices of Mr Studdert and collect those court martial papers, which she could then turn over to John Pearce? If he loved her as he implied he did, then she would be forgiven for stealing them. If he could not accept her reasons for her actions then she would find his affection to be less than he seemed to mean when he spoke with her, which would save much in the way of future difficulty. The second undertaking would be to write a letter to Toby Burns, telling him that he must come clean about the things he had done for the sake of his own soul and provide, in writing, the means by which she could keep her husband at bay.
‘I calculate we can manage,’ Pearce said, ‘though we might need you to swing those fists of yours to get clear.’
‘What are we about, John-boy?’
‘A possible end to scraping a living, Michael,’ Pearce replied, his face very serious. ‘Which I have had to do most of my life.’
‘You’re not alone there, Pearce,’ Charlie said.
‘I’ve told you what the cargo is and I have told you how much it is worth, and I have gleaned enough about the vessel to reckon she is of two masts and enough for us to handle without help. If the wind is fair and the sea is kind we can do the distance from Flanders in a single night’s sailing, and I am happy to hover off the Flanders coast until conditions are right.’
‘What are the shares to be?’ asked Rufus, who then realised the way he had said that implied distrust of those present, when what he had meant was other parties. ‘Ours, I mean.’
‘Enough to set you up, but as to how much that will be, well, we need to see it sold for a figure. But know this, I cannot do it without you three and I will not do it if you turn it down.’
‘What’s to turn down?’ Rufus replied, looking around the Pelican. ‘A life in the Liberties.’
‘There’s sense in that, Rufus.’ That got Charlie a nod; the youngster was not accustomed to such approval. ‘And that goes more for you, Michael, than even we two.’
‘It’s God-given that such a thing should come along at such a time,’ the Irishman responded with a smile and a slow headshake, evidence of how low he had been since getting back to this place, for he was a man of positive mien by nature.
‘Miracles and saints bein’ what you heathens believe in, Michael, so say a prayer and let’s set on it.’
O’Hagan grinned. ‘Happen you will say a prayer to the good Lord with me, Charlie?’
‘My pleas go down, brother, not up.’
‘Every one answered,’ hooted Rufus.
‘Are we on for this?’ Pearce demanded.
It took time for Michael to nod, but he did so; the other two had never been in doubt. ‘How do we get to this Deal?’
‘By boat, Michael, through the good offices of a Thames waterman, a fellow I have engaged to take us downriver. He is sure he and his mate can get us clear.’
‘’Tis a long haul,’ opined Charlie.
‘We’ll take turns rowing, not like the last time we went that way, trussed like chickens.’
‘Then I,’ Rufus cried, when he realised the route, ‘beg to piss out his boat as we pass Sheerness.’
‘That’ll frighten the Nore fleet,’ cawed Charlie. ‘They’ll be running out the guns when they see your weaponry.’
‘Michael, you have those pistols still, and the means to fire them, so we will take them along, but only to threaten. The men recruited to aid us in crossing will be paid in advance for their service and must be told nothing. No word is to be said of what we are about or where we are headed.’
‘Sure, they’ll guess it’s smuggling, John-boy.’
‘Let them, for a guess is just that, but if they know anything for certain they are sure to let it slip. Tight lips at all times, for if those Deal scallies get a whiff, we could find them waiting to rob us at St Margaret’s Bay, which, when I looked at a map, is not more than a long walk from where they reside.’
It took Arthur Winston two days to coach to Deal, make the arrangements, and get back, but he assured Pearce on their subsequent meeting that everything was in place, including the prices promised for the cargo.
‘Once I put out feelers I was inundated, John, and so was able to drive some very hard bargains, especially for the Lyon silk, the price of which has gone through the roof so desperate for it are the ladies of fashion. Once all costs are met I think you can look forward to clearing ten thousand pounds each, which I admit, is better than anticipated.’
Not by me, Pearce thought, who had started out hoping for substantially more, and he would be splitting that with his Pelicans. Still, he would be well found and it would be churlish to say he was disappointed.
‘I see you are once more wearing your naval coat.’
‘A garment that makes it less likely I will be examined by the tipstaffs when I come and go from the Liberties.’
‘And getting your fellows out of there?’
There was an element of paying him back in Pearce’s reply, for he was still holding to himself the name of the ship. ‘Please do not be offended, Arthur, when I do not respond to that. You have no need to know, and while I trust you not to be loose of tongue, it is better for me that you cannot let slip anything at all.’
‘Of course,’ Winston said, with tightly pursed lips. ‘But I need to know when you will be there, for I have already laid out part of the fee and I have no desire to languish in such a den of iniquity waiting for you to appear.’
‘Our plan is to be there at some time on the morrow.’
That produced a weary sigh. ‘Then I must take to a coach sooner than I wish, for I must tell you my posterior is sore from travel already.’
Reaching into his desk, Winston pulled out several sheets of paper, the required charts, as well as a hand-drawn map of the Gravelines quays and defences. Pearce recognised the layout of the Vauban fortress, a star-shaped interior redoubt with the main walls protected by outworks and canals, very like that he had seen at Toulon. What was different was the narrow access to the sea, which was one he was determined to closely examine.
Winston talking took his attention away from his perusal. ‘This is the name of the man I contacted in Deal, a fellow called Barmes. We will find him in the Three Kings Inn, where he does all his business, which is right on the beach, and it is he who will secure our crossing. If you get there before I do, make his acquaintance, for I would wish you to cast your mind over the arrangements to ensure they meet our needs, for I readily admit I am in ignorance of too many things to do with the sea.’
‘What does he know?’
Winston produced a sly smile. ‘I borrowed from you in this, John. He thinks I am trying to get out of France a man with whom I did much trade, now in St Omer and under imminent threat of the guillotine, hence the need for speed. I am going to fetch him, get him to Flushing and thence to England and safety. Naturally, taking along enough men to protect us both.’
‘A good story, which makes you sound noble.�
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‘Too much so, I feared, so I hinted, too, at a chest of valuable possessions, not honestly obtained. Let us hope my tale convinces him, for he is a devious cove, as they all are in that neck of the woods.’
That left Pearce to wonder if Arthur had been wise: in his mind an excuse elaborated upon was less likely to be believable, and the mention of valuables even less astute. Still, it was done now, so there was no point in saying anything. ‘Tell me about Deal, for I do not know it.’
Except, Pearce thought, as a swimmer who failed to reach the shore having jumped overboard from HMS Brilliant. He knew the beach to be high shingle and the water off the town to be freezing cold.
Winston obliged and made it sound like the worst place in creation, full of vice and villainy, leading Pearce to reckon, being a London businessman, he knew nothing of the common seaport: if Deal was a place of rough folk, drinking dens, whores, pickpockets and violent robbery, so was every other anchorage John Pearce had ever visited, both in Britain and abroad.
Jack Tars lived for the day and were easily parted from their money, so it was obvious that those well practised in the art of extraction would gravitate to the place where they were gathered, and Deal was such a spot. Sailors were also rowdy and given to making trouble, so it was also the case that the means of keeping their most boisterous behaviour in check had to be present.
‘When do you leave?’ Winston asked finally, and that got him another look and John Pearce an apology for asking. The last thing handed over was a purse of money for contingencies. ‘I have made a note of the sum enclosed for the final tally.’
Tempted once more to mention a failure and return through Flushing, Pearce knew by the weight of the purse that was covered, but he had to say something. ‘To tell you the truth, I was going to ask you for some funds. I have spent everything Davidson advanced me.’
‘Do this well and that is a worry you will never have again.’
‘Amen to that.’
After a firm handshake, Pearce went on his way, aware that his extremities were tingling: there was a frisson of danger in the air and he was in his element.
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