A Lawless Place

by David Donachie

  ‘He’s expected, your honour – expected but not yet with us.’

  ‘I assume he has requested the private room?’

  ‘He has.’

  ‘Then I shall wait for him in there.’

  ‘I’ll fetch along refreshments, Captain Brazier.’

  ‘For which I will pay.’

  ‘As you wish, but Mr Pitt is fond of a particular claret, already decanted.’

  As he told Garlick to fetch that, he could not help but wonder at its provenance. The quality of the wine in the Three Kings had surprised him when he first arrived in Deal. But he had come to realise, in very short order, this establishment was not the only one with a superior cellar. Saoirse and the Old Playhouse were equally blessed, while she had more or less told him they were contraband goods, as were those he had bought from the local vintner. Could it be, the man who so railed against smuggling was able to turn a blind eye as long as his discerning palate was indulged?

  The private room, once entered, had a table set for two. It also had a view from the windows over the sloping pebble beach and a busy anchorage, full of merchant vessels, stopping here to take on crew and the final stores necessary for voyages to far-off places. Brazier went to stand by one, looking out, registering the dozens of boats rowing to and fro, carrying humans as cargo as well as said stores, hoys with barrels of meat and others ready to pump water into barrels being knocked up on deck by the ship’s cooper.

  Off the naval yard sat a brand-new seventy-four-gun ship of the line, HMS Bellerophon, in the final stages of fitting out. Having been a sailor since he was no more than a nipper, the sight induced a deep hankering to be off somewhere himself, one which never faded, it being in his blood. It was impossible to explain to those who had never experienced it the lure of the sea.

  People wedded to the land saw it as a dangerous and unpredictable element, with demons or giant monsters for the most superstitious, or deadly storms for the more rational, hurricanes which regularly swallowed humans whole and unwitnessed, leaving behind nothing but a mystery which, in time, would fade from memory. It was a setting of hard work and foul conditions, worse when it came to naval service, where to those who did not know the reality, every captain was seen as a cat-wielding tyrant. Like all wild tales, there was an element of truth in it, not least because it was one spread by tars to guy eager listeners over a pot of ale.

  There were commanders too fond of the cat, though many less than legend had it. Strict discipline was applied aboard a ship of war and accepted by all for a very good reason: no one could sail in safety without it. Missing from the landsman’s image was the camaraderie that came from being part of a close-knit company. It was a place where everyone was required to know and be expert at the several tasks they were there to perform, living in close proximity with people of shared values, common humour and a language particular unto itself.

  Then came excitement. How to explain the sheer delight of sailing a frigate on a brisk wind, with a full set of canvas drawing over a deck heeling like a pitched roof, perhaps with a ship ahead in the act of being overhauled. What of the prospect of battle, of being part of a fighting whole, trained to and expecting to win, with at the end of it a purse full of prize money? If there was much dreaming in there, who would want to live without such?

  ‘I find you in a brown study, Captain.’

  Brazier spun round to face his host, who had opened the door but not yet closed it, an act which carried no sound. Pitt stood framed in the doorway, wearing a smile that could be termed enigmatic, for previous encounters had established he was not boisterous in his humour. He was wearing a powdered wig, which tended to make his face appear more rounded than it truly was. But there was no mistaking the air of self-control, as well as the acumen emanating from a steady gaze.

  ‘I was reflecting on the attraction of a life at sea.’

  ‘Not one I would rush to share and, is it not true, you don’t have to look beyond the Goodwin Sands for a reason to keep your feet dry? If I could dredge out the gold and valuables from the hundreds of ships that have foundered there, I could pay off the government debt.’

  Before Brazier could respond Garlick appeared behind him. ‘Brought you the decanter, your honour.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Garlick,’ Pitt said, standing to one side. ‘You may leave it on the table.’

  What followed was a bit of a comedy. Garlick did as he was asked, but then seemed to hover, his large purple nose twitching as if there was an odour to trace. Pitt’s smile went to fulsome as he addressed the proprietor to tell him ‘that will be all for the moment’. It was with an air of disappointment the command was obeyed, Pitt adding, as the door was closed, ‘I am often tempted to say, or should I put it as invent, something which would set in motion a lively bit of gossip.’

  ‘He’s the one to spread it, that’s the truth,’ was Brazier’s mordant reply, while wondering if both he and Pitt might be dunned for the same decanter: Garlick was a sly cove with his bills.

  ‘I find you well, I trust, Captain?’

  There was no point in supplying a negative; his present concerns would not be aired at this table and he was sure Pitt was unaware of them. ‘You do, and how do you fare?’

  Pitt moved to the decanter to begin to fill two glasses. ‘I bless the air, sir, as ever, and the walk from Walmer. After the stench of Whitehall, it clears the brain.’ A glass was offered to his guest and taken, his own raised. ‘To sea breezes.’

  Brazier raised his glass to sip; Pitt’s went to his mouth to be emptied, then refilled. ‘Did I see some men outside, Captain, fellows who are, by their dress, sailors?’

  ‘I have had some of my old barge crew join me.’

  ‘Commendable. But I’m forced to enquire as to their being armed. Do I take it you anticipate trouble merely from the act of meeting with me?’

  That was tricky; the last time he had seen Pitt was at Walmer Castle in the company of his heavily pregnant sister, Lady Harriot Eliot. Then it was he who had the black eyes, added to a cracked rib on the mend, it being not long after his beating in the Lower Valley Road. His contusions were explained away and dismissed by a fall from a horse. What could he say now that would not be too revealing?

  ‘I have found Deal to have elements residing within its boundaries which make precautions wise. But in reality, these are men paid off from the service and in need of employment. As their old commander, I feel it’s my duty to provide it.’

  ‘Commendable, sir,’ soon saw another empty glass.

  A knock brought a servant and a tureen of fish soup, so they sat down while bowls were filled, silent until the girl disappeared.

  ‘How is Lady Harriot? Has she come down to Walmer with you once more?’

  The face fell. ‘You do not know? My dear sister expired following the birth of her child.’

  Brazier felt as if he could kick himself; it must have been in the journals that came down daily from London, newspapers he had been too preoccupied to read. ‘My condolences, she had a fine spirit. The child?’

  ‘A daughter. I fear my brother-in-law will want for recovery. He is distraught.’

  Sir James Eliot was discussed, not as the broken reed Pitt said he had become, but as a leading light of the anti-slavery movement, a close confidant and supporter of William Wilberforce. Lady Harriot had been just as committed to the cause and it was one Brazier could subscribe to, as would any man who had intercepted and boarded a slaver in the Western Atlantic, leaving him with an image of degradation and human cruelty he could not erase from his mind.

  Much as the mood had been depressed by the demise of his sister, conversation, by its very nature, moved on to less unpleasant topics as the various courses, and a second decanter of wine, were fetched to the table. One subject aired was the behaviour of the male royal offspring, all of King George’s sons having, it seemed, a devilment aimed at upsetting their sire, with Pitt getting the backwash.

  ‘He has tried cutting off their funds, but of c
ourse there are those who will queue up to be in the company of royal blood, and many of them are eager to act as princely bankers.’

  ‘I take it Prince William is as badly behaved as the rest?’

  ‘Your good friend,’ was delivered with a wicked expression.

  ‘I’m sure he speaks very highly of me,’ was Brazier’s sardonic response.

  There was another feeling behind the words, for, if he was in want of a ship, a poor opinion in that quarter would be a serious impediment. William was commonly referred to as the Sailor Prince, while his being labelled a martinet was more likely to endear him to Admiralty than shame him. Pitt, on their last meeting, had told Brazier his name was known, and not esteemed, by William’s father, which was worse.

  His dining companion’s face went down to his cheese, but it seemed a ploy to avoid Brazier’s eye, given he delivered another poisoned arrow, not that you would know it from his even tone. ‘Are you aware that HMS Alcide has come back from the Jamaica station?’

  ‘Really?’ was the word that covered a tightening of the chest.

  ‘Paid off and laid up at the Nore.’

  The head came up to pin Brazier with a direct look, which was met with a contrived air of complete indifference. If that is what showed, it was not what was felt, for he now knew, and it had been a question he had asked himself, why Pitt had invited him to dine. They had only met on two previous occasions and could hardly be said to be friends.

  ‘I would have thought the dockyard more likely,’ Brazier opined, as though it was a matter of indifference. ‘She’s been in warm waters for a long time and, notwithstanding her copper, the Caribbean worm is an active beast.’

  ‘It does not concern you more than her hull, that there may be rumours flying around?’

  ‘Having been resident here in Deal for weeks now, I have been rendered immune.’

  Brazier knew he would have to ask, there was no choice. If stories were spreading of events in Jamaica, they would need to be countered.The way Admiral Hassall had expired was so unusual as to warrant all sorts of theories and the question asked was a valid one. How had a deadly, venomous snake, on an island that possessed none, get into his quarters to sink its fangs, plus its poison, into his neck?

  It had happened while Brazier was at sea, so he could state, unequivocally, he had nothing with which to reproach himself. Except there were the words he had used in addressing his junior officers before he weighed, which had occurred after a furious and strident row with his superior in Admiralty House, which surely had been overheard: he having discovered and informed the other ships’ captains of Hassall’s depredations, saying something of the nature that he deserved to be strung up.

  ‘It is telling, Captain, that you do not ask what the rumours might pertain to.’

  ‘I assume it is the nonsense you alluded to previously, some rubbish contained in an unsigned and thus anonymous letter of accusation, when you sought to engage me in your crusade against smuggling.’

  ‘By the lord, that’s the right word for what is required.’

  When first mooted, it seemed to make sense to Pitt that Brazier help him combat smuggling, on the grounds that he was a captain without a ship, with very little prospect of getting one. That was more certain if you counted the factors working against him: royal disfavour and a fleet being run down, not expanded. William Pitt hinted he was in a position to overcome all these barriers.

  The point Pitt had made at Walmer Castle was telling: what at one time had been an opportunistic occupation for Deal boatmen was now, if you took the massive and steady losses to the public purse, being conducted on a near industrial scale. Even as the First Lord of the Treasury, he was at a stand when it came to clapping a stopper on it, for too many in parliament either didn’t care, or saw it as beneficial to their own needs. The navy declined to patrol the channel and he had only managed to burn the boats on the strand previously by begging for a body of soldiers, as he put it, ‘On my dammed knees, and they nearly failed to show.’

  The effect of that conflagration had proved negligible: boats were rebuilt in short order and they had to be. But, in the interim, until they were fully restored in the required numbers, there had been no discernible fall off in the supply of untaxed goods. His informants told him everything previously available to buy was still being hawked.

  Which led him to conclude there was some secret controlling interest and that was what he needed to find out. It was not put forward that Brazier should do anything dangerous. But Pitt had picked up, no doubt from Garlick, who was a damned nuisance and eager informant, of his connection to the Tulkingtons, one of the leading local families.

  He would thus be certain to move in certain circles, where a misplaced word or a sharp observation might produce a clue. This followed could reveal something about the organising cabal, which Pitt insisted had to exist, since no one man could oversee such depredations. Brazier had not been in the least bit tempted. He knew no one in the locality, if you excluded Betsey and her family. Given he was not on good terms with her brother, the so-called social whirl Pitt referred to was unlikely to materialise; not that he would have agreed regardless.

  Could he be tempted now, when he was in possession of the kind of information Pitt had hoped he would come across? Under heavy scrutiny, his mind was spinning. Was it just that anonymous missive he had referred to before, which landed in England with his own despatch, in which doubts had been raised about the manner in which Hassall had died, probably naming it as a foul murder, not a tragic accident?

  It would not take too febrile a mind to consider it possible. The admiral had gone to bed in good health, to be found in the morning by his servant, his face blackened by venom, his expression one of a terrible rictus and his heart stopped. Again he had to enquire, but it could not be posed as a question.

  ‘If you are aware of more nonsense being spread, I would be interested to hear of it.’

  ‘Would it suffice if I say this? Lady Hassall was favoured by a visit from the captain of HMS Alcide. In quizzing him, she concluded that all was not as it should be and has descended on the Admiralty demanding answers.’

  ‘To what questions?’

  Pitt shrugged. ‘First how the snake got into her husband’s quarters, one so intent on employing its fangs on a sleeping man. It is falsehood, I am told, that snakes are aggressive creatures. Sir Joseph Banks, whom I mentioned to you previously, insists they are shy unless in the presence of their young, more inclined to hide than attack. As the world’s foremost expert on the natural world, he should know.’

  ‘I know little of the creatures. I was told it is what the French call a fer de lance, quite common in other parts of the Caribbean and on several islands within a day’s sailing distance of Kingston. As I explained to you before, the plantation slaves import them for their barbaric religious ceremonies.’

  ‘All of which I made sure was conveyed to Lady Hassall by the conduit of my brother, Chatham. I must tell you, she does not accept a word of it. And she again questions why her husband was buried at sea, with what she sees as undue haste, when he had expressed a definite wish to be brought home to his family plot. I do believe the decision was yours.’

  This was leading to questions Brazier did not want to deal with; time to nail the purpose. ‘I cannot but feel you are telling me all this so you can reprise your wish that I become your spy.’

  ‘My eyes and ears, Captain, in a situation where I am at risk if I merely enter the middle of Deal without an armed escort. Ergo, no one will talk to me.’

  Edward Brazier needed to think; perhaps Pitt was, albeit inadvertently, offering him a way to confound Henry Tulkington, but what would be the effect on Betsey? She was still legally wed to Harry Spafford. Getting her free of that entanglement must take precedence over trying to bring down her brother, which he suspected would not be a simple matter. Best out of it for the present, was his conclusion.

  ‘I was about to thank you for dinner, Mr Pitt, but si
nce I’m about to disappoint you once more, perhaps I should meet the bill.’

  ‘My invitation means it is my tariff, sir.’

  Brazier stood, to look him right in the eye. ‘Then I bid you good day.’

  There he was, as ever, by his hatch, with that look in his eye, one which was on the lookout for any snip of information by which he would grease the rumour mill.

  ‘Off home, your honour?’

  The grunt of a positive might have been less abrupt if he had heard Garlick, later on in the day, boasting he’d had William Pitt eating at his board, though given his audience of beach householders he was wont to add his temptation to poison the sod.

  ‘Aye,’ he said, drawing on his pipe. ‘Entertained that Brazier cove, you know the navy fellow who has a dip of a mornin’, an’ not for the first time. An’ very friendly they was too.’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Having found the note not long after her old friend had departed, Annabel Colpoys was in a quandary. Roger too was no longer present, he having gone off to his farming duties. As she read the tiny writing, so shocking were the words, Annabel wondered if Betsey had been struck with some affliction of the mind. The notion that Henry had deliberately drugged her and put her through a marriage ceremony, of which she recalled nothing, was simply too outrageous to be seen as true.

  The plea to deliver it to Edward Brazier, with Betsey begging to be rescued, also induced mixed emotions. It spoke of an involvement that her husband had expressly forbidden, even if it was a stricture she had previously disobeyed. To help Betsey meet with the man she was intent on marrying, while simultaneously humbugging stiff-necked brother Henry, had proved too appealing. Roger, whose curiosity rarely rose above the plough and the decanter, proved easy to circumvent.

  What was being ask for now posited a different order of magnitude: if Betsey was telling the truth, there had been more than a breach of family harmony and an internal dispute. This bordered on a crime and spoke of an involvement that could extend beyond merely acting as a carrier of a message, one more difficult to keep concealed, while discovery would bring retribution. Her husband had gone so far as to mention the horsewhip if she disobeyed him. Was it worth the risk?