In Dangerous Company: The Dorset Boy Book 4

by Christopher C Tubbs

  This is a work of Fiction. All characters and stories are fictional although based in historical settings. If you see your name appear in the story it is a coincidence.

  Copyright© 2018 Christopher C Tubbs

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, except brief extracts for the purpose of review, without the permission of the copyright owner

  Credits

  Thanks to: Jackson from J.W. Editing and Marketing Services who edits my books and puts up with my idiosyncratic style, and to Dawn Spears the brilliant artist who created the cover artwork. My wife who is so supportive and believes in me. Last my dogs Blaez and Zeeva and cat Vaskr who watch me act out the fight scenes and must wonder what the hell has gotten into their boss.

  THANK YOU FOR READING!

  I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. Reviews are so helpful to authors. I really appreciate all reviews, both positive and negative. If you want to leave one, you can do so on Amazon, through the website or Twitter.

  About the Author

  Christopher C Tubbs is a descendent of a long line of Dorset clay miners and has chased his family tree back to the 16th century in the Isle of Purbeck. He left school at sixteen to train as an Avionics Craftsman, has been a public speaker at conferences for most of his career in the Aerospace and Automotive industries and was one of the founders of a successful games company back in the 1990’s. Now in his sixties, he finally got around to writing the story he had been dreaming about for years. Thanks to Inspiration from the great sea authors like Alexander Kent, Dewey Lambdin, Patrick O’Brian and Dudley Pope he was finally able to put digit to keyboard. He lives in the Netherlands with his wife, two Dutch Shepherds and a Norwegian Forest cat.

  You can visit him on his website

  www.thedorsetboy.com

  The Dorset Boy Facebook page.

  Or tweet him @ChristopherCTu3

  Contents

  Chapter 1 Madras

  Chapter 2 Intelligence

  Chapter 3 To Spring a Trap

  Chapter 4 Fiery Retribution.

  Chapter 5 News from home.

  Chapter 6 What goes around.

  Chapter 7 No Good Deed

  Chapter 8 Pune

  Chapter 9. Ceylon

  Chapter 10 Return to Duty

  Chapter 11. Reformation

  Chapter 12 Bang on Time

  Chapter 13 Evolutions

  Chapter 14 A Fiery Baptism

  Chapter 15 Lost and Found

  Chapter 16 Armand Trouble

  Chapter 17. Barging around

  Chapter 18 Truth and Consequences

  Chapter 19 The Tempest

  Chapter 20 Manning and Arming Up

  Chapter 21 Shake down

  Chapter 22 First Blood

  Chapter 23 A Craftsman At Work

  Chapter 24 The Last Leg

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Book 5 – The Tempest

  Chapter 1 Unhappy landings

  Chapter 1 Madras

  Marty and Caroline walked through the market in Madras enjoying the exotic and somewhat alien sights and sounds. The air was rich with the scent of exotic spices; cumin, coriander, aniseed, pepper and more, all of which would cost a king’s ransom back in England. Caroline was looking at using Marty’s status as a shareholder in the East India Company to import spices to England. She would distribute them through the same network she used for the wine and brandy she distributed for the Deal boys.

  Marty carried their daughter Bethany in his arms as proud a young father as could be, pointing things out to her as they passed each stall in turn. Beth in turn gurgled, giggled and sometimes gawped as things caught her eye.

  An experienced observer would note that the couple were escorted, at a discrete distance behind them, by two dangerous looking men. A really expert one would also spot two that walked thirty feet in front of them.

  Caroline stopped at a silk merchants stall and looked at a delicate blue bolt of silk.

  “That would be just perfect for a gown for the Governor’s ball next week.” she exclaimed.

  “What does this cost?” Marty asked the merchant in Hindi. He had been studying the local language and achieved a working proficiency in it.

  “Oh, Sahib this is the very best silk, perfect for making saris and only one anglina a yard,” the merchant boasted. An anglina was a silver coin and was worth around a shilling.

  “Don’t think I am a fool and you can rob me,” Marty replied. “I think it is worth no more than twenty cupperoon a yard.” A cupperoon was a copper coin and fifty cupperoon made an anglina.

  “Oh, Sahib is very wise, is blessed with a beautiful wife and a beauteous baby and surely knows that this wonderful silk is worth at least forty cupperoon a yard.”

  Marty was enjoying himself but a sharp nudge from Caroline’s elbow brought him up short.

  “I will pay thirty and no more,” he offered splitting the difference, knowing he could have gone lower. The merchant agreed and Caroline asked for ten yards. Marty beckoned to a young Indian boy who was standing nearby watching them hopefully.

  “Do you want to earn a cupperoon?”

  The boy nodded vigorously, and Marty handed him the roll of silk.

  They bought a number of other items and ended up with a small group of children following them carrying packages. They were led by the strutting boy who was first and had made himself the leader of their baggage train.

  Back at their bungalow Caroline sent for her dressmaker. A talented Indian lady who was able to make western style clothes from silk, which was a notoriously difficult fabric to work with. They ensconced themselves in her bedroom to create the ball gown that Caroline had imagined.

  Marty in the meantime was in his study entertaining an Officer of the Company Marine.

  Edward Cooper Esq. was the thirty-year-old Captain of the company frigate Endeavour.

  “When do we leave for Réunion?” he asked, eager to complete their mission to root out and destroy the pirates that used the French held island in the Indian Ocean.

  “Not until after that damned ball,” Marty replied, “we should have the intelligence from the Belle by then.”

  The Belle was a brig that had been captured the year before. It had made the mistake of attacking the East Indiaman that had carried Marty and Caroline to India. Since then she had been repaired and bought into the Marine.

  Marty had been asked to come up with a plan to pacify the pirates working out of Réunion and had tasked the brig to reconnoitre the island. He hoped the Marine captain had the guile to use the fact that the brig was a former pirate ship to get in close.

  Meanwhile he had to be Lord Candor, not Lieutenant Stockley Royal Navy, and attend the Governor’s ball.

  As soon as Cooper left, Caroline had a servant fetch Marty for a fitting of a new suit she was having made for him. He stood impatiently as the little Indian tailor fussed over the fit of the suit which was cunningly made of lightweight material but looked like the current fashion in London. It had taken Caroline quite a while and a lot of patience to get the tailor to understand what she wanted, but they had got there in the end.

  There was a childish shriek from the door and one-year old Beth toddled in pursued by her nurse. Since she had learned to walk, she was a terror for exploring and would make her escape whenever they took their eyes off her. Mary, her nurse, was in hot pursuit and scooped her up before she managed to get into the tailor’s box of scissors and pins.


  “Is this really necessary?” Marty grumbled for the umpteenth time. “I thought the last fitting would do it.”

  “Be patient my love, you must look your absolute best. They will be looking at us and wondering how two commoners managed to end up as Baron and Baroness Candor. We will not give them an inch to work with.”

  The fact was, that they didn’t have an ounce of noble blood between them. Caroline had the title through an arranged marriage to the elderly, and now late, Lord Candor who had died just two years after marrying her when she was just sixteen years old. She had scandalised society with a string of lovers after that until Marty fought a duel for her. They had become lovers and when she fell pregnant with Beth they had married.

  The big surprise was that the British Monarch, King George the third, had not only blessed the marriage but confirmed Marty in the Barony and made him a Knight of the Bath as well. They were admired by some but condemned by many others as new blood. Marty’s reputation as a dualist kept the comments to the background but Caroline was sensitive to them.

  Marty had been tasked by Admiral Lord Hood and William Wickham to go to India and help the East India Company counter the threat posed by French sponsored rebellions and piracy. Caroline had insisted on going with him as it was likely to be at least a three-year posting. So now he was stood there like some kind of tailor’s dummy.

  The night of the ball came around and once he was dressed, he had to admit that the suit did do justice to his physique. It showed off his shoulders and it was cunningly cut to hide the fact he was carrying his fighting knife in a shoulder sheath under his left arm. Marty never went anywhere unarmed. He wore a sash with his order of the garter on it and the diamond broach with his coat of arms the Prince Regent had given him as a wedding present.

  Caroline was dressed in the light blue silk ballgown that showed off her figure. The colour set off her auburn hair and her diamond earrings, tiara and necklace complemented the broach the Prince had given her. She carried a small handbag which had a muff pistol hidden inside it.

  Their carriage stopped outside the governor’s mansion which was brightly lit with torches and lanterns and was met by small army of servants buzzing around the entrance helping the guests. The sound of an orchestra wafted through the air along with the scent of flowers on the night breeze. Cicadas provided a background hum that Marty found quite pleasant.

  They were announced and the room hushed as people turned to look. Caroline stepped forward, giving Marty no choice but to step with her, and smiled dazzlingly at the assembled crowd. The chatter restarted. They greeted several people before they came up to Governor Armstrong and his wife.

  “Lady Caroline!” his wife greeted her, “you look absolutely ravishing. You will cost all the husbands a fortune and make your seamstress wealthy when all the ladies copy you.”

  “She is an absolute wizard with silk.” Caroline smiled keen to make sure her lady did well. “I will let you have her address.”

  “Milord Candor. Good to see you.” Armstrong said in a rich baritone. He was a large man who had probably been quite muscular in his youth but was tending to portliness as he aged. “You two have caused quite a stir amongst the British community.”

  “We have?” replied Marty looking slightly confused.

  “Well, yes.” Armstrong clarified. “Your wedding was heavily featured in the newspapers and the ladies were all a swoon at the romance. Now you are here in the flesh and they can see that you are as handsome a couple as the press reported.”

  “Any news of the Belle?” Marty asked to change the subject.

  Armstrong took the hint and said that she was expected any day now.

  Ranjit Sihng, a senior advisor to the Company and a fellow passenger on the voyage from England, wandered over with his wife and greeted Marty and Caroline. He had become their friend during the trip and he and Marty were regular sparing partners at weapons practice.

  “Caroline, you shine like a beautiful star,” smiled Surinda, “and Marty that suit is fantastic, who is your tailor? I want to have one made for Ranjit.”

  Ranjit didn’t look too keen on that idea.

  The Governor rescued him by suggesting that they leave the ladies and take a few minutes to talk about the upcoming campaign. They left them and went to the Governor’s study where they were joined by Captain Cooper.

  “What is the plan once the Belle returns?” asked Armstrong.

  “Well, depending on what they report, we will take at least her and the Endeavour back to Réunion. I would like a cutter as well if she could be armed with carronades.”

  “Why do you need a cutter? Isn’t that a bit small for this work?” asked Captain Cooper.

  Ranjit laughed. “Martin beat three French luggers with a cutter and they cleaned out the Madagascar pirates with a cutter and a sloop.”

  How did he know that? Marty thought.

  “Really?” Cooper exclaimed. “You must tell me that story.”

  “Later, when we have time.” Marty replied. “A cutter can get in and out of places a brig or a frigate can’t. It’s nimble so it can harass the enemy and if it’s got carronades it can deliver a punch much greater than its size.”

  “I will ask the Commodore,” the Governor replied convinced by Marty’s assuredness.

  “Lord Candor will be responsible for strategy and training and will have overall command of the squadron,” Captain Copper stated. Marty saw in his eyes, and the way he looked at him, that he was a little put out to be under the command of such a young man. Even if he was a Lord.

  “He may be young, but he has more combat experience than men twice his age according to Lord Hood,” replied the Governor, “and the Company commissioners have great faith in him.”

  “And I have seen him fight,” added Ranjit. “Don’t worry you are in good hands.”

  “Will you be accompanying us Ranjit?” Marty asked.

  “Yes, the Company has asked me to act as an observer.” He replied with a grin.

  After discussing a few more mundane issues they re-joined the ladies. Caroline was looking cross and Armstrong’s wife was livid.

  “What’s got you all in a knot?” Marty asked

  “That stuck up, good for nothing, blue blooded arse of a captain of the fifth regiment just called me a pretend Baroness and said I shouldn’t be seen in public” Caroline seethed.

  “That would be Captain Fortesque-Parker,” Governor Armstrong observed. “He is distantly related to the Duke of Marlborough on his mother’s side, has a very elevated idea of his own nobility and a low tolerance for alcohol,” he added with a sneer.

  ‘Damn, why can’t they just accept us for what we are?’ Marty thought.

  “Well I can’t let that go,” he said slightly regretfully, “with your permission sir?” Armstrong nodded.

  He walked up to the offender and tapped him on the shoulder. He was a bit taller than Marty with thin brown hair, long nose, weak chin and slightly protruding teeth. As soon as they made eye contact, Marty punched him squarely on the jaw to gasps from the surrounding ladies.

  Fortesque-Parker landed on his rump with the contents of his wine glass spilled over his shirt.

  “No one insults my wife,” Marty said in a cold voice, “if they do, they insult me as well. I will meet you on the field of honour at your earliest convenience. My seconds will call on you in the morning, unless you wish to settle this here and now?”

  Fortesque-Parker looked at Marty in astonishment and then fear as he saw the steel in his eye. He looked over at Caroline who was grinning openly.

  “Well?” asked Marty impatiently.

  “Oh! Well yes!” he stammered.

  “Yes now? Or Yes in the morning?”

  “Oh! The morning. Of course, seconds in the morning!” he finally got out.

  Marty turned and stalked back to Caroline. She was grinning wolfishly at him.

  “I think he nearly wet himself. Do you think he will go through with it?” she asked. />
  “His regiment will not let him do other than go through with the duel,” the Governor stated. “They value regimental honour above all else!”

  “Can I act as one of your seconds?” Ragit asked.

  “Thank you, yes.” Marty replied.

  “I will be the other.” Cooper insisted.

  “Thank you as well.” Marty shook both their hands and they left to talk to Fortesque-Parker to find out when and where they should meet his seconds.

  The next afternoon Rangit and Cooper, his seconds, arrived at their bungalow.

  “He wants it to be pistols.” Ranjit told him. “We set the time for tomorrow morning at dawn on the beach to the north of the town.”

  “Aye we also limited it to one shot each at twenty paces separation.” Cooper added. “I checked and he is supposed to be a fair shot with a rifle. Likes to hunt. No information on his ability with a pistol.”

  Marty grinned. “Animals don’t shoot back.”

  “You are very cheerful for someone who is going to be shot at,” Ranjit observed wryly.

  “It is all about the edge my friend.” Marty replied. “Mine is he has heard about my, so called, reputation. That will be in his mind all night.”

  The next morning, they left before dawn. Caroline came with them, leaving Beth at home. Blaez was left behind, sleeping in the nursery in his usual place under her cot.

  Clive Fortesque-Parker and his seconds arrived at the beach in plenty of time. When Lord Candor and his party arrived, the huge Sikh had the pistols. A fine pair of Manton’s with walnut stocks, browned barrels and silver inlaid actions. They were fifteen inches long and had rudimentary rear-sights. They were perfectly balanced.

  One of his seconds went with the Sikh and prepared the guns, taking care to ensure the load was identical in each. As usual there was a surgeon and master of ceremonies in attendance.

  Clive was regretting ever opening his mouth. He blamed the drink, but it was a combination of that and his resentment at being a non-titled member of the Marlborough clan that had pushed him into it. Once said he couldn’t retract it without losing face, and his fellow officers wouldn’t allow that slur on their regiment. It was so unfair that those two peasants had titles and he didn’t.