Agent Provocateur

by Christopher C Tubbs

  Marty sent over a boat, with the third in it, to see what they wanted. The boat returned with two of the horsemen in the back. On a hunch, Marty ordered the side to be manned.

  The two men came aboard, climbing the side slowly and carefully as they wore heavy coats that impeded their movements. The Marine’s stamped to attention and the bosuns calls shrilled out, scaring the seagulls.

  Marty stepped forward, greeted them, and introduced himself. The older of the two men, a ruddy faced man of about five-feet-four inches with the look of a country squire introduced himself as Iain McFarlain, Laird of Shetland. The other was taller and had ears that stuck out so far he looked like a Toby jug. He was Captain Bridges, Royal Artillery.

  “Is Lord Candor available?” asked the Laird, looking around.

  Marty glared at a mid, who was openly grinning, wiping the smile off his face.

  The third lieutenant, who had just joined them from the boat, leaned forward and said,

  “You are talking to him, sir.” And nodded towards Marty.

  Both men looked surprised.

  “My apologies, sir. We just received a message yesterday that you were on the island. Lord Hood warned us you were coming but we didn’t know when. We got here as fast as we could,” Captain Bridges supplied.

  So, the old fox expected me to be captain by now, did he? Marty thought.

  “I am sure he did.” Marty replied with only a hint of a snarl.

  “Mr. Davage, please give the captain our complements. Tell him that we have guests and we will be joining him shortly,” Marty ordered a young mid with a runny nose.

  Marty then led the men around the ship giving them an abbreviated tour. He kept an eye on the quarterdeck and soon spotted the captain’s steward who nodded to him.

  “I believe the captain is ready to receive visitors,” he said and started leading them towards the stern. “I must warn you that the Captain has some individual peculiarities. Please humour him as this will be his last voyage.”

  The men muttered their agreement but looked slightly concerned as the went down the stairs. The liveried marine at the door stood to attention and looked embarrassed as he made the announcement and opened the door.

  The Captain’s cabin was, as usual, beautifully decorated and there was a table set up with a light buffet.

  The man himself was splendid in a uniform richly embellished with gold and lace. Shiny shoes with golden buckles and his make up just perfect.

  The Laird had a sudden coughing fit as he saw him for the first time and Captain Bridges assumed a parade ground, blank expression.

  Marty allowed them both a few moments to compose themselves and then introduced them. He avoided calling the captain ‘your highness’ but he didn’t seem to notice.

  They all made themselves comfortable and the steward came in followed by another man with glasses and a couple of bottles of white wine.

  Marty looked at the second man and raised his eyebrows. Antton grinned back at him as he pulled a cork.

  The chat was small and inconsequential and the food very nice. Several bottles of wine were drunk, and Marty finally said.

  “My apologies, gentlemen, but we need to making sail in around an hour to catch the tide.”

  “Of course, we mustn’t delay your departure. You must all be ready to see home again,” replied the Laird a tad too quickly.

  There were extended and florid farewells, and Marty finally got them on deck where he ordered the boat brought around and manned.

  Looking around to see if anyone could overhear, the Laird said,

  “Hood said we were to give you any assistance that we could. He was anticipating trouble. Do you need anything?”

  “Thank you for the offer,” Marty replied, “But the cause of the problem was eliminated some days ago.”

  Four days after their return to Portsmouth, Captain Carruthers was met at the dock by an entourage of liveried retainers and he and his belongings left the Sunderland for good. Marty stayed for another day until the replacement captain arrived and read himself in. A new first lieutenant came aboard and Marty and his men went ashore.

  Admiral Hood was waiting at the George to get Marty’s report.

  “Well my boy, you seem to have successfully solved the ‘problem’ but I am surprised to see Carruthers still standing,” he said in greeting.

  “He wasn’t the real problem. He is actually quite harmless, just deluded,” Marty replied sadly.

  Hood looked at him quizzically.

  “He was convinced he was the Prince Regent. He was always talking about fashion and his subjects. He knew he was on a ship and he knew he was the ruler, but he had no idea what to do. So, he relied on the first.”

  “And he was the real problem?”

  “Yes. He was an opium addict and tartar. Didn’t care a jot for the crew and had built up a cadre of followers who enjoyed bullying the men.”

  “How did you stop him?”

  “I cut off his supply of opium. He went crazy when he couldn’t get any and ended up attacking the captain. That gave me the excuse to arrest him, but he chose to jump overboard. After that, I just had to persuade the captain that he was needed on shore.”

  “Yes, after I got your message, we arranged for him to be sequestered in his house in Guildford with a guard dressed as footmen. He will live out his life with his illusion undisturbed.”

  A coach was waiting, and they set off back to Cheshire. They would make it in time for Christmas.

  Chapter 17: A Passage to India

  Christmas 1799 in Cheshire was the best he had ever had. The house was decorated with pine boughs and holly wreaths. Caroline had fetched all his family from Dorset as a surprise, and they threw a huge celebratory party for all the estate workers and tenants.

  Armand came up from Kent and announced he was to get married to Susie, the innkeepers daughter, in Deal. He asked them if they would attend and Marty if he would be his best man.

  Linette was back in France and keeping an eye on Napoleon. Caroline teased him that they were keeping his other woman away from her. Marty wasn’t sure if she was joking or not.

  Everybody went home after twelfth night.

  Marty sent a letter to his bank and asked them if they knew an agent who could find him an estate in Dorset. He wanted to set his family up and, having talked to his brothers, farms were the preferred option. He would own them and on his death, his brothers or their descendants would inherit them.

  He turned his attention to the Estate. He was becoming convinced that the new farming methods he had read about would revolutionise the production of food and therefore the profit to the tenants.

  Crop rotation and cooperation between tenants to make bigger areas of land that could be managed were at the core. Along with the proper use of manure and other soil enhancers he figured he could double the yield at least.

  On a map, he broke the estate up into fifty-acre areas and adjusted so he didn’t cut tenancies in half. Then, with the estate manager, he called in the tenants in each area in turn and explained what they were going to do and why. Some didn’t like it, others embraced it willingly. The next five years would tell if he was right.

  They lived in bliss undisturbed by the Navy until the week after his birthday. Then the dreaded package arrived.

  He sat in his study and read it. General Gerald Lake (First Viscount Lake) was taking over as Commander-and-Chief of India, and Marty was ordered to go to India with him.

  There was discontent amongst some of the native rulers, which was being aggravated by French agents. Marty was to find the agents, who were so mobile they might be travelling by ship and put a stop to them.

  He would be given the use of one the Honourable East India Company Marine’s sloops. The Marine were a private Navy and used to guard the Company ships in Indian waters.

  There had to be a price attached to the half price shares he had bought. The Company very rarely gave with one hand without taking something with the o
ther.

  He was to join a Company ship called the Hindostan. A typical East Indiaman he guessed. There were berths for 6 men to go with him as well. There’s a surprise, he thought with more than a hint of sarcasm.

  This wouldn’t be a short trip; he could be gone for up to three years. Oh well, I better go tell Caroline, he thought sadly.

  “What do you mean I can’t go with you?” Caroline said in a voice that was full of warning and danger. She had stood in front of him and was leaning forward over him as he sat in the chair he had pulled up to break the news.

  “It is India. It’s too dangerous,” Martin started to say. All he managed was, “It’s India…”

  “And don’t you tell me it’s too dangerous,” she snapped, “I know all about the dangers of fever and the rest, and I don’t give a damn. Beth and I are coming with you.”

  Marty tried a different tack.

  “Who will look after the estate?”

  “Farrel Mountjoy is more than capable. You have put the five-year plan in place and he can see it through. The bank and your agent can take care of the land purchases in Dorset.”

  Blaez came and laid his chest on Marty’s lap, trying in his own way to calm his people down. Marty absently stroked his head. He had run out of arguments and knew that forbidding Caroline wouldn’t get him anywhere.

  “I will write to the Company telling them we will both be going and asking them to find us a house,” he conceded.

  “Mary will be coming as well,” Caroline added. “Beth needs her as much as me, and we will need some staff.”

  “Alright,” he sighed knowing when he had been thoroughly defeated.

  The Hindostan was a large Company liner. She carried thirty twelve-pounders on a single gun deck and looked to be about one hundred and eighty feet long and around forty across the beam.

  When they boarded, they were greeted as Lord and Lady Candor and were shown to a small suit of cabins in the privileged area of the ship. Marty was amazed at the amount of room they had as it was easily ten times the area he had on the Snipe. Caroline took it in her stride and supervised the unloading of her numerous chests.

  They had brought only four servants; the nurse, a footman, cook, and maid of all works. Looking at other families who were boarding at the same time, they had been frugal.

  One of the things Caroline had commissioned for Marty’s birthday was a chest that had been designed to be a mobile armoury. It was made of oak, had steel bands reinforcing it, and two mortice locks and a padlock. It was covered in leather and looked quite normal. That is, until you tried to pick it up as it weighed over a hundredweight when it was full.

  Inside were his pistols and knives that he usually carried. He had added two William-Parker-made, double barreled, ten-gauge shotguns, and his pride and joy, which was a very rare, Durs-Egg-designed, breach loading, rifled, cavalry carbine. It was a bit high maintenance but was lighter and faster to load than the Baker rifle and about 6 inches shorter. It had been trialled by the Army a few years earlier and had been rejected as too complex to maintain and a few had found their way onto private hands. He had removed the spear bayonet and saddle ring to lighten it and with practise could get six shots a minute out of it.

  Mary the nurse and baby Bethany were in the smaller of the two bedrooms. Blaez had made his way in there the instant that Bethany’s cot was in place and took up position between the cot and the door. Marty and Caroline had a state room and there was a separate sitting room where they could entertain. Meals were either in a common dining room which they shared with the other high-end passengers or they could eat and entertain in their suite. The other servants slept separately in two cabins a deck down.

  They sailed in convoy with two other Indiamen, the Chichester and the Earl Talbot, the Navy Brig Sloop Victor and the thirty-six-gun Frigate HMS Doris.

  The Victor sailed first in line with the Hindostan, Earl Talbot and Chichester in line astern. The Doris stayed to windward to be able to lend assistance if they were attacked. The captain of the Hindostan, George Millet was acting as Commodore.

  Marty left Caroline to unpack and went up on deck. It was strange to be a passenger and not have any active role in running the ship. There was a crew of around one hundred and he was immediately struck by the difference in the way the ship was run.

  They didn’t have a fiddler to make the beat for the heave but instead the men sang a shanty and hauled on the beat. They were raising and sheeting in sails and sang;

  When I was a little lad

  And so my mother told me,

  Way, haul away, we'll haul away Joe,

  That if I did not kiss a gal

  My lips would grow all moldy,

  Way, haul away, we'll haul away Joe.

  Way, haul away, we'll haul for better weather,

  Way, haul away, we'll haul away Joe.

  King Louis was the King of France

  Before the Revolution,

  Way, haul away, we'll haul away Joe,

  King Louis got his head cut off

  Which spoiled his constitution.

  Way, haul away, we'll haul away Joe.

  Way, haul away, we'll haul for better weather,

  Way, haul away, we'll haul away Joe.

  Oh, the cook is in the galley

  Making duff so handy

  Way, haul away, we'll haul away Joe,

  And the captain's in his cabin

  Drinkin' wine and brandy

  Way, haul away, we'll haul away Joe.

  Way, haul away, we'll haul for better weather,

  Way, haul away, we'll haul away Joe.

  He found himself humming along and tapping his foot. Tom and the boys had come on deck and watched the company men working.

  “I can watch this all day,” quipped Wilson, making everyone laugh.

  “Mid, you ‘avin nuffin to do for five month is gonna get mighty boring,” added John Smith.

  “It’s alright, the boss will think o’ summit,” smirked Tom looking at Marty.

  The convoy started out fairly well but soon the gaps between the ships opened up like Navy ships never would. It’s going to be a long five months for the captain of the Doris, Marty thought as he heard a gun and saw flags flying up her masts. This will be like herding cats.

  Then in the evening as the sun set, the company ships reduced sail so they came to virtual stop! They just about maintained headway.

  Boats started to run between the ships carrying passengers between ships. Everyone had to ‘dress for dinner’. He put on a fashionable suit of a tailed dark blue jacket with a white frilled shirt and white double-breasted waistcoat. He chose a cravat and Caroline took it away and replaced it with another that actually matched his suit.

  They entered the dining area and were handed a glass of champagne. They circulated meeting the other passengers and making small talk.

  They met General Lake, and he intimated that he would like to have some time for a ‘chat’ at some point but then introduced him to his wife, Nikola. She was tiny, probably no more than four-feet-eleven. She had a mane of red hair, hazel eyes and a wicked grin. She was probably around forty years old but had an energy that belied that.

  Caroline took to her immediately, and they were soon chatting intimately and giggling over observations about the other passengers.

  Marty and the General stood together and scanned the room. There stood Mr. and Mrs. Templeton-Booth. He was a London-based banker on his way to India to set up a branch in Madras. He was dressed in a bland, last year’s fashion, suit and she was in a pink creation that looked like it was made by a confectioner rather than a dress maker.

  Near them was another military man, Colonel Masters, in the uniform of the Bengal Army. He was alone and looking as if he was working up the courage to approach the General and Marty.

  There were two couples in a huddle, laughing and chatting, who were the Forbes and Goldsmiths. Both Senior Controllers on their way out to take over departments of the Company.<
br />
  The last person was an Indian. Ranjit Sihng. A giant of a man. At six-feet-four-inches in his bare feet he had to be very careful of the deck beams. He wore a turban with a jewel set in the middle, had a neatly trimmed beard and handlebar moustache. His suit was made of silk of a pale cream and the buttons were gold inset with diamonds. He had a ceremonial dagger at his waist and wore iron jewellery that Marty noted could probably be used as weapons as well.

  “He is a Sikh,” the general informed him. “More accurately a Nihang, one of the warrior class. He is of high rank and touchy of his honour. Other than that, a thoroughly nice chap. Speaks excellent English.”

  Sihng made his way over to them and bowed,

  “Lord Candor, I presume. General,” he said in a baritone voice.

  “Good evening, Mr. Sihng,” Marty said.

  Sihng had already recognized a fellow warrior in the young man in front of him and his trained eye had spotted the slight bulge caused by the fighting knife which was in its usual place on the back of his belt.

  “I understand you are also a lieutenant in His Majesty’s Navy,” Sihng stated.

  “Why yes, I have the honour to serve. You are well informed, sir.”

  “I make it a point to know who I am travelling with.” He smiled back.

  The gong for dinner was struck, and they all took their places.

  The next day, Marty felt in need of exercise, so he found Matai and asked him to practice knife fighting with him. They found an empty spot on deck and faced off. The two were so accomplished they used bare steel.

  The rest of Marty’s boys gathered to watch with Caroline, who held Beth in her arms. Blaez laid at her feet.

  The clash of steel soon attracted quite an audience and there were soon cries of astonishment and admiration as the two men’s blades moved in a blur of speed. Marty finally got the upper hand as Matai made the tiniest of mistakes and found himself with Marty’s blade at his throat.