by Wilbur Smith
‘What then?’
‘Pirates,’ said Childs. ‘Corsairs.’
‘Are you sure? How can we know that?’ The East Indiamen were built for speed and heavily armed for just such a contingency. It would take a warship of force to capture one. When this news spread, the value of the Company stock would plunge. His own investments would be slashed by thousands, nay, tens of thousands of pounds.
‘For months now, both ships have been overdue. We had no news of either,’ Childs said. ‘But it seems that a single seaman escaped from the Minotaur. He was almost forty days at sea clinging to some piece of wreckage, drinking but a few drops of rainwater and eating raw fish he was able to catch, until he was at last thrown up on the wild African coast. He walked for weeks along the shore to reach the Portuguese settlement at Lobito. There he was able to find a berth on a sloop bound for Bombay. He told his story to Governor Aungier, who sent the seaman and his despatches back to us on board the Yeoman of York.’
‘Where is this seaman now?’ Hal demanded. ‘Have you spoken to him? Is he reliable?’
Childs held up one hand to halt the flood of questions. ‘He is in a safe place, and well cared for, but we don’t yet want him telling his story on the streets of London, or in a coffee-house.’ Hal nodded: that made good sense. ‘And, yes, I have spoken to him at length. He seems a sensible lad, tough and resourceful, if his account is true, which I think it is.’
‘What does he say happened?’
‘In essence, the Minotaur came upon a small dhow in distress off the island of Madagascar and took off her crew of a dozen before she sank. But that first night the survivors seized control of the deck during the middle watch. They had concealed weapons on their persons and they slit the throats of the officers of the watch. Of course, the crew of the Minotaur should have had small trouble regaining the ship from such a tiny band of pirates, but almost immediately a fleet of small boats swarmed out of the darkness, obviously in response to a signal, and the band of pirates already on board were able to prevent the ship’s company from serving the guns or otherwise defending themselves until it was too late.’
‘How did this man escape?’
‘Most of the Minotaur’s men were massacred, but this man – Wilson is his name – convinced the pirate captain that he would enlist with his band and lead him to other plunder. Wilson then seized his first opportunity to escape and slipped overboard through a gun port with a small wooden keg as a float.’ Childs opened a silver casket and brought out a long brown object that looked like a piece of dead tree bark. ‘Tobacco leaves rolled into a stick,’ he explained. ‘Spanish, from their colonies in America. They call it a cigarro. I have come to prefer them to a pipe. Will you try one? Here, let me prepare it for you.’ He made a fuss of sniffing it and cutting off a sliver of the dark tobacco from one end.
Hal accepted it and sniffed it suspiciously. The aroma was surprisingly pleasing. He followed Childs’s example and lit the end of the tube from the burning taper Childs held for him. He puffed cautiously and found that, even though he was distressed by what he had just learned, the taste was to his liking, better than any pipe he had ever taken.
By now both other men were puffing on their cigarros, which gave Hal a few minutes to consider the problem with which Childs had presented him. ‘You said two ships were lost,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ Childs agreed. ‘The Albion Spring only weeks before the Minotaur. Taken by the same gang of cutthroats.’
‘How can we be sure of that?’
‘The pirate captain boasted of his exploits to this man Wilson.’
After another long silence Hal asked, ‘What do you intend to do about this, my lord?’ Then his pulse quickened as he saw the two men exchange glances, and he had the first inkling as to why he had been invited to this intimate meeting.
Childs wiped beef fat from his jowls with the back of his hand, then winked at Hal like a conspirator. ‘We are going to send someone to deal with this pirate fellow, Jangiri. That’s the rascal’s name – Jangiri.’
‘Who will you send?’ asked Hal, already knowing the answer.
‘Why, you, of course.’
‘But, my lord, I am now a farmer and a county squire.’
‘Of only a few years’ standing,’ Hyde cut in. ‘Before that you were one of the most eminently successful mariners in the southern and eastern oceans.’ Hal was silent. It was true, of course. These two knew everything about him. They could almost certainly detail every voyage he had made, and Hyde would have in his records every return of treasure and precious cargo he had made to the Treasury.
‘My lords, I have a family, four sons to care for, and no woman to share the responsibility. That is the reason I no longer go seafaring.’
‘Yes, I know why you gave up the sea, Courtney, and you have my deepest condolences for the loss of your wife. But, on the other hand, even your youngest son must now be of the age when you yourself first went to sea. There is no reason why you cannot find berths for every one of your offspring aboard a well-found ship.’ That was also true. Childs had clearly planned his strategy with great attention to detail, but Hal was determined not to make it easy for him.
‘I could not leave my responsibilities at High Weald. Without careful administration of my estates I would be beggared.’
‘My dear Sir Henry,’ Hyde smiled, ‘my own son was at King’s College with your William. They are still the greatest of friends and correspond regularly. I understand that the administration of your estates has become almost solely the charge of young William, and that you spend much of your time hawking, hunting, reading and reminiscing with your old shipmates.’
Hal flushed with anger. Was that William’s estimation of his worth and contribution to the running of High Weald and the mines?
‘If this fellow, Jangiri, is not dealt with swiftly we will all be beggared,’ Childs added. ‘You are the best man for the job, and we all know it.’
‘The suppression of piracy is the concern of the King’s navy,’ Hal retorted stubbornly.
‘Indeed it is,’ Hyde agreed. ‘But by the end of the year we will be at war with France and the King’s navy will have more pressing matters with which to attend. It may be several years before the Admiralty can turn its mind to policing the far oceans of the globe and we dare not wait that long. Jangiri already has two ships of great power under his command. Who can say that in a year or two he will not be strong enough to attack Bombay or our factories on the Carnatic coast? Your shares in the Company would be worth little if he succeeded.’
Hal moved restlessly in his chair and fiddled with the stem of his wineglass. This was what he had been waiting for secretly, during these past months of boredom and inactivity. His blood was charging, his mind raced, flitting from idea to idea like a sunbird on a flowering tree, darting from bloom to bloom to drink its nectar.
‘I have no ship,’ he said. He had sold the Golden Bough when he came back to Devon. She was tired and her hull eaten half away by ship-worm. ‘I would need a ship of equal or superior force to the Minotaur or the Albion Spring.’
‘I can offer you a squadron of two fine ships,’ Childs countered easily. ‘Your flagship would be the new Seraph, the finest vessel the Company has ever built. Thirty-six guns and fast as a gull. She is this very day fitting out at Deptford yard. She can be ready for sea by the month’s end.’
‘And the other?’ Hal demanded.
‘The Yeoman of York, the same ship that carried this lad Wilson back from Bombay. It will have completed its refit by the end of the week and be ready for sea again. Also thirty-six guns. Captain Edward Anderson, a fine seaman.’
‘I know him well.’ Hal nodded. ‘But what authority would I sail under?’ Hal was determined to resist a little longer.
‘By noon tomorrow,’ Hyde promised, ‘I can deliver to you a commission signed by His Majesty’s own hand, authority to seek out and destroy or take as prize the ships and property of the corsairs.’
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p; ‘What terms of prize?’ Hal turned his full attention to him.
‘One third to the Crown, one third to the East India Company, and the last third to you and your crew,’ Hyde suggested.
‘If I were to go, and there is no guarantee that I shall, I would like to have half to myself and my men.’
‘It is true, then.’ Hyde looked miserable. ‘You strike a hard bargain. We can discuss that when you agree to take the commission.’
‘I should like to be able to trade for my own account during the voyage.’
It was one of the tenets of Company policy that its captains should not indulge in private trade, and thereby risk a conflict of interest and loyalty. Childs’s face darkened and his jowls wobbled with outrage. ‘Under no circumstances. I cannot agree to that. It would set a dangerous precedent.’ Then he saw that Hal had prepared the trap and that he had walked straight into it.
‘Very well,’ Hal said quietly. ‘I will forgo that right, if you grant me the half-share of the prize.’ Childs gulped and spluttered at his effrontery, but Hyde smiled lugubriously.
‘He has you there, Nicholas. One or the other, which is it to be? The prize money or the right to trade?’
Childs was thinking furiously. The prize money might far outstrip any trading profit that even this cunning and resourceful mariner might garner along the Asian and African coasts, but the right to trade was sacred and reserved to the Company alone.
‘Very well,’ he agreed at last. ‘Half the prize but none of the trading profits.’
Hal scowled, but was well content. He nodded apparently reluctantly. ‘I will need a week to think on it.’
‘You do not have a week,’ Hyde remonstrated. ‘We need your answer this very night. His Majesty needs my reply at the meeting of his cabinet in the morning.’
‘There is too much for me to consider before I can take up the commission.’ Hal sat back and folded his arms in a gesture of finality. If he delayed there was a chance he might squeeze other concessions out of them.
‘Henry Courtney, Baron Dartmouth,’ Hyde murmured. ‘Does not the title have a satisfying ring?’ Hal unfolded his arms and leaned forward, taken so off guard that he allowed his eagerness to light his features. A peerage! He had never before allowed himself to think of it. Yet it was one of the few things in this world he lacked.
‘You mock me, sir?’ he murmured. ‘Please make clear your meaning.’
‘Take up the commission we offer immediately, and bring back the head of this Jangiri rogue in a pickle barrel, and I give you my solemn word that a barony is yours. What say you, Sir Hal?’
Hal began to grin. He was a commoner, albeit of the highest rank, but this next step up the ladder would enter him into the nobility and the House of Lords. ‘You are the one who drives a hard bargain, my lord. I can no longer resist either your blandishments or my duty.’ He raised his glass and the other two followed his example. ‘Fair winds, and a good chase,’ he suggested as the toast.
‘Bright gold and glory!’ Hyde made a better one and they drained their glasses.
When they lowered their glasses, Hyde dabbed his lips with his napkin and asked, ‘You have not yet been presented at court, have you, Sir Hal?’ When Hal shook his head he went on, ‘If you are one day to become a peer of the realm, we must see to that before you leave London. Two of the clock in the afternoon on this coming Friday, at St James’s Palace. The King is holding a levée before he sails for Ireland to take charge of the campaign against his father-in-law. I shall send a man to your lodgings, to guide you to the palace.’
Alfred Wilson was a surprise. With such a name Hal had expected a stalwart English tar with a Yorkshire or Somerset accent. At Hal’s request Childs had released the seaman from wherever he was being held and sent him to Hal at the inn. He stood in the centre of the floor of the private salon and twisted his cap in his slim dark hands.
‘You are English?’ Hal demanded.
Wilson respectfully touched the hank of thick dark hair that spilled onto his forehead. ‘My father was born in Bristol, Captain.’
‘But your mother was not?’ Hal guessed.
‘She was an Indian, a Mogul, a Mussulman, sir.’
Wilson was darker even than Hal’s own William, and as handsome. ‘Do you speak her language, Wilson?’
‘Yes, sir, and write it. My mother was of high birth, begging your pardon, sir.’
‘Then you write English also?’ Hal liked the look of him, and if his story of the escape from Jangiri were true he was indeed resourceful and clever to boot.
‘Yes, sir.’
Hal was surprised, few seamen were literate. He considered him thoughtfully. ‘Do you speak any other language?’
‘Only Arabic.’ Wilson shrugged self-deprecatingly.
‘Better and better.’ Hal smiled and switched into Arabic to test him. He had been taught it by his first wife, Judith, and had honed his knowledge of it on many voyages along the coasts of Africa and Araby. ‘Where did you learn?’ His tongue was a little rusty from disuse of the guttural tones of Arabia.
‘I sailed many years before the mast, with a crew that was mostly Arab.’ Wilson’s command of the language was rapid and fluent.
‘What rating did you hold on the Minotaur?’
‘Warrant officer, sir.’
Hal was delighted. To hold the rank of a watch-keeping officer, at his age, he must be a bright one. I must have him, Hal decided. ‘I want to hear from you everything you can tell me of the taking of the Minotaur. But more important, I want you to tell me about Jangiri.’
‘Begging your pardon, Captain, but that will take a while.’
‘We have all day, Wilson.’ Hal pointed to the bench against the far wall. ‘Sit there.’ When he hesitated, Hal went on, ‘You said it would take time. Sit down, man, and get on with it.’
It took almost four hours, and Walsh, the tutor, sat at the table and made notes as Hal instructed him. Wilson spoke quietly and without emotion until he had to describe the murder of his shipmates by the pirates. Then his voice choked, and when Hal looked up, he was surprised to see that Wilson’s eyes were bright with tears. He sent for a pot of beer to soothe the man’s throat and give him a chance to regain his composure. Wilson pushed the tankard aside. ‘I don’t take strong liquor, sir.’
Hal was delighted. Drink was the demon of most seamen. ‘Never?’ he asked.
‘No, sir. My mother, you understand, sir.’
‘You are a Christian?’
‘Yes, sir, but I can’t forget my mother’s teaching.’
‘Yes, I understand.’ By God, I need this one, Hal thought. He’s a gem among men. Then an idea occurred to him: During the voyage out I will have him teach my lads Arabic. They will need it on the coast.
By the time they had finished Hal had a vivid picture of what had happened on board the Minotaur, and of the man he was going out to confront. ‘I want you to go over all this again in your mind, Wilson. If there is anything you have forgotten, any detail that may be useful, I want you to come back and tell me.’
‘Very well, Captain.’ Wilson stood up to leave. ‘Where will I find you, sir?’
Hal hesitated. ‘I hope you can keep your tongue from wagging?’ he asked, and when the man nodded, he went on, ‘I know that you have been kept from telling the story of the taking of the Minotaur. If you can give me your word that you’ll not be spouting your story into every flapping ear, then you can join my crew. I am looking for good watch-keeping officers. Will you sign up with me, lad?’
Wilson smiled almost shyly. ‘I have heard of you afore, Captain,’ he said. ‘You see, my uncle sailed with your father aboard the Lady Edwina, and with you on the Golden Bough. He told tales of you.’
‘Who was your uncle?’
‘Ned Tyler, Captain, and he still is.’
‘Ned Tyler!’ Hal exclaimed. He had not heard that name in five years. ‘Where is he?’
‘On his farm near Bristol. He bought it with the prize money
he won on board your ship, Captain.’ Ned Tyler was one of the best men Hal had ever sailed with, and he marvelled yet again at how small and close-knit was the brotherhood of the sea.
‘So what do you say, then, Wilson? Will you sign the watch-bill on the Seraph?’
‘I would like it well to sail with you, Captain.’
Hal felt a lift of pleasure at his acceptance. ‘Tell my boatswain Daniel Fisher to find lodgings for you until we can move into our quarters on the ship. Then you can exercise your penmanship by composing a letter to your uncle Ned. Tell him to stop milking cows and shovelling muck, and get on his sea boots again. I need him.’
After Wilson had clumped down the narrow wooden stairs to the parlour below, Hal moved to the small window that overlooked the cobbled stableyard. He stood there, hands clasped behind his back, and watched Aboli instruct the twins with the blade. Guy sat on a pile of hay with Dorian next to him. He must have finished his turn for he was red in the face and sweating in dark patches through his shirt. Dorian was patting his back in congratulation.
Hal watched while Aboli exercised Tom in the manual of arms, the six parries and the full repertoire of cuts and thrusts. Tom was sweating lightly when at last Aboli faced him and nodded to begin the bout. ‘On guard, Klebe!’
They fought half a dozen inconclusive engagements. Hal could see that Aboli was moderating his power to match Tom, but the boy was tiring and slowing down when Aboli called to him, ‘Last one, Klebe. This time I mean to hit you!’
Tom’s expression hardened, and he went on guard in quarte, point high, watching Aboli’s dark eyes to read his move before he launched. They touched sabres and Aboli came at him, right foot leading, graceful as a dancer, a feint into the high line and then, as Tom parried fierce and made the riposte, Aboli fluidly recoiled and made a counter-riposte in the line of engagement, fast as a striking viper. Tom attempted the correct parry low quarte, but his hand still lacked an inch of speed. There was a slither of steel over steel and Aboli’s blade stopped an inch from his nipple as it showed through the white shirt.