A Sea of Troubles (20 page)

‘You must tell me all about him.’

‘Not now, my dear, for we will be at sea for weeks and have ample opportunity to talk of such things, for you, likewise, must tell me of your past.’

‘I’m not sure I have one of any interest.’

‘You do, everyone has things that act to form them.’ He leant over and kissed her on the head. ‘But the very fortunate few have a future to look forward to.’

The crew had not lingered at their mess tables over dinner, but set to at dressing for going ashore. It was blue jackets, clean ducks, a striped kerseymere blouse topped off by a gaily coloured bandana and, for those who had one, a black and shiny tarpaulin hat. Pearce, who acted as purser as well as commander, was called upon to sell to his crew lengths of ribbon for their pigtails and new socks to adorn their legs, as well as blacking to get a shine on their shoes. When the last man had been seen to he went to see the cook.

‘Mr Bellam, I want you to go ashore and buy enough food for six.’

The man’s round face fell. ‘I do not want you to do more, since I perceive you wish to visit the fleshpots of Portsmouth. So let it be a cold collation and just leave it by your coppers and I will do the serving.’

‘Six hearty mouths, or six light, your honour?’

‘O’Hagan will be one of the party.’

‘Then I’ll buy for eight, ’cause your Irishman can eat for four on his own.’

The boats plied to and fro to the shore, some hired, for once the local wherrymen spotted a ship allowing shore leave they were like flies around a honey pot. The noise and gaiety were loud, occasionally interrupted by a prayer from the holy types who seemed to want their God to make sure that no pleasure was had by their shipmates and that perdition, which surely awaited them, should be left in abeyance. Once the noise died down, John Pearce and Michael O’Hagan set off for HMS
York
, with two hands to help row. Once there, and leaving Michael on the main deck, Pearce went to see Moyle in his cabin.

‘I fear your two followers think they are being sent to serve where my whim takes them, Mr Pearce.’

‘You did not tell them of our arrangement?’

Moyle was shocked and his voice in reply was abrasive. ‘I will tell no one, and that especially to a pair of loose-tongued men of the lower deck. I ask that of you too, tell them nothing of our arrangement!’

‘Of course, it is a matter best not talked about, but did not the men who brought them here let on?’

‘I doubt they had knowledge of it. The midshipman who came aboard with them asked only that I sign for their arrival. All I did was stick them in an upper deck cell with barely a how d’ye do. They asked questions, which I ignored.’

‘How fare the men I brought you?’

‘You were right about a pair of them needing to be taught their manners.’

‘I am tempted to give them a hello, just to depress them further.’

Moyle responded so hastily he ended up tripping over his own words.

‘Never fear, they are low enough and I would not want that the sight of your face should raise in them the will for a contest that will rebound on my men.’ Having said that he seemed to recover somewhat his composure. ‘In fact, I would have to forbid such a thing.’

‘So be it.’

‘So one of my men will take you to the right cell.’

John Pearce had in him a strong streak of mischief and now it came to the fore, aided by the fact that the light was fading and it was now getting dark outside; he could see lights twinkling on the shore.

‘Could I ask, then, that you have your men bring them to my boat, and it would be an aid if they were a little rough and aggressive in their handling, as I mean to play a game with them.’

Moyle tried and failed to hide the fact that he was dealing with an odd sort of fellow and nodded. ‘Makes no odds to me, Mr Pearce.’

‘Then I will get in the boat and wrap myself in my boat cloak.’

He was huddled in that, with Michael sat in the bottom of the boat to disguise his height, when they heard the rough voices of Moyle’s guards abusing the men as they brought them out to the top of the gangplank. With lots of pushing and shoving it was rough handling indeed, but truly not harmful if you excepted the spirit, that was until they were, chains struck off, virtually thrown into the boat, which produced cries, if not of pain, then of dented pride.

‘Get sat down the two of you,’ Pearce growled in a manufactured voice.

‘Where we goin’?’ demanded Charlie Taverner, always the more vocal of the two Pelicans.

Pearce replied in the same kind of disguised voice. ‘To a hell ship, that’s where you’re going, for Barclay has seen to you good and proper, with a man in command who loves nothing more than to wield the cat with his own strong hand and nothing done to warrant it.’

‘That’s agin the laws of the navy,’ Rufus said.

Michael, behind them, tried to disguise his voice too, though his brogue was evident. ‘Bugger the laws of the navy, we are a law to ourselves.’

It was one of the other pair, the men brought to help row the boat, who broke the deception. ‘Could you tell me, Mr Pearce, what in the name of our Blessed Saviour it is you’re on about?’

‘Pearce?’ said Charlie, his tone full of mystification.

‘Sure, fellow, he is our commander.’

‘And I believe,’ Pearce said, emerging from his cloak, ‘your good and loyal friend.’

Michael heaved himself up and stuck his head between them. ‘And, sure, boyos, he’s not alone in that.’

‘Pinch me, Rufus, ’cause I think I’m dreamin’ now.’

‘Not so, Charlie; the Pelicans are reunited.’

Back on board, they ate the cold meal left by Bellam, and Emily renewed her acquaintance with Charlie and Rufus, who were shy in her presence, particularly the youngster, and somewhat at a loss to see that her relationship with John Pearce had progressed to the point of consanguinity and that they would all be sailing together to the Mediterranean. Charlie still had about him a bit of that roughish charm which had sustained him as a sharp working the Strand and Covent Garden and it was he who proposed a toast to her, with which none present could disagree.

‘Ma’am, I hereby propose that you be inducted as an honorary Pelican.’

The glasses were up and drained and Emily was delighted. The last act of the night, with drunken men coming noisily back aboard in ones and twos, was for Emily to write a letter to her husband with Pearce helping, his opinion being, and she took it, that to mention him was to fuel a fire already burning heartily enough.

When HMS
Larcher
sailed over and plucked out her anchor she was not the only vessel about to put to sea; the Tolland brothers had been true to their word and had gathered a crew in no time at all – rough-looking fellows that men gave a wide berth to when out walking – bringing them up to London to man the
Percy
, the ship Denby Carruthers had purchased, and they set about getting ready for sea with all the expertise of blue-water men, reefing and roving, bending on sails and taking in the stores needed for a short voyage.

The man himself had gone to consult with his brother-in-law on an unrelated matter and in doing so had put Edward Druce in an uncomfortable position; he had previously supplied to Carruthers men to deal with Cornelius Gherson, having been told the fellow had cuckolded his employer, a couple of Impress Service toughs of much muscle and little conscience when it came to turning a coin. He had no actual idea what they
had done for the alderman, only that it was unlikely to be pretty and Druce had ever since regretted putting the risk of family disgrace to the forefront of his reaction when asked for aid, really to spare his wife embarrassment, without examining the likely consequences.

In some sense he had been relieved when Gherson unexpectedly turned up in his offices in the company of his client naval officer Captain Barclay; at least it implied that he had been beaten for his sins rather than anything worse, which had been a worry. But here was his wife’s brother once more sitting in an armchair, drinking his wine and seeking more help and this to find the same fellow.

‘I tried to fix him with the Bow Street Runners, Edward, but he managed to wriggle out of that somehow. That matters less than the notion he will turn up to trouble my marriage once more, so I need to find him so that I can keep a watch on his movements.’

‘Find him,’ Druce replied, his hands arched like a church steeple.

He was prevaricating, for he had on his desk a letter from Ralph Barclay saying he was coming to town, bringing his clerk with him, and desired a meeting to discuss the state of his present investment, as well as how to proceed with the expected payments from the 1st June battle. It was a double worry that they both might turn up when Carruthers was still here, for he had lied to his brother-in-law when asked a few months past about Gherson, saying he knew nothing of the fellow, when he knew very well he was serving as the captain’s clerk aboard HMS
Semele
.

His reasons were complex and tested on them he would never have admitted to the truth, which was that in Gherson he recognised a fellow keen to profit personally from his employer’s ventures and willing, if asked for advice from Barclay, to advance the schemes of Ommanney & Druce. In short, he was a source of profit now and potentially much more in the future and that was the paramount concern of a firm of prize agents who made most of their returns by speculating with their clients’ money.

‘It could be like seeking a needle in a haystack, Denby.’

‘Not quite, Edward, Gherson goes where there is money to be made.’ The nod was inadvertent and quickly stopped. ‘So that narrows matters, and I know he is London born and I suspect this is where he will plough his furrow, probably a felonious one, for the city is the place of opportunity to rogues like him.’

‘I’m not sure I can assist, Denby.’ That made his brother-in-law stiffen. ‘Ask me for the whereabouts of a sailor and that I can do by a simple enquiry to the Admiralty, where we maintain strong contacts.’

‘I must find him,’ Carruthers snapped, his face closing up enough to tell the man at the desk just how much hatred was in the sentiment. Obviously Carruthers knew it too, realised he was being obvious in his loathing and perhaps even in his intentions, so he sat back and modulated his tone. ‘To stop him visiting mischief on another as he visited them on me, of course.’

‘Quite, quite, but would not a thief-taker be a better prospect?’ Seeing interest Druce went on. ‘You say your man is a thief—’

‘And a satyr, for all his tender years and innocent looks.’

That was a barked interruption, from a man Edward Druce had always thought too strong in his passions, the kind of thing that led him to marry such an unsuitable bride. And Druce had a duty, which was to deflect his interest in Gherson and even to send him on a wild goose chase if necessary. Serving on a ship, the man was relatively safe, rarely ashore, in London only on the odd occasion, and if things went as normal HMS
Semele
would be at sea for most of the time; a warship at anchor was not a proper use of assets even for an indolent commander addicted to taking the waters of Bath such as Black Dick Howe.

‘Let us stick to larceny, Denby. If you are looking for a fellow who steals money, then that is a job for a man who takes up criminals and, I might add, I know of no one who searches up and down the land for infidelity, it is more a local interest. I do have knowledge of a fellow who might take the work, for the Bow Street Runners and their successes have made his occupation less profitable than it used to be. One of his gifts is that he is well connected and seems able to use a network of people to search far and wide. He would, of course, require funds to proceed and a payment for success.’

‘I am not bereft of the means to fund that.’

‘No,’ Druce replied with some feeling: well heeled and successful as he was, he could not hold a candle to Denby Carruthers. ‘So would you like to know where to find him?’

‘You find him Edward, will you?’

‘Me?’

Carruthers stood up. ‘Yes, I am going away for a few days, perhaps a week. Get hold of your fellow … what’s his name?’

‘Hodgeson.’

‘Retain him, Edward, and I will see him on my return.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘People keep asking me that, as if it is any of their business.’

The manner of that rejoinder, so cold and dismissive to what was a very simple question, eased the conscience of Edward Druce; he did not like lying to his brother-in-law even if he felt it necessary. But he was not to be treated like some busybody. Lord, he might even tell Gherson that Denby was seeking him out! There was, however, no desire to let his feelings be known or have a proper falling out, certainly not with a powerful city alderman and a brother to a wife who esteemed him highly, so the response was polite.

‘Well I hope it is successful, Denby.’

‘Sir Phillip, I believe Lord Howe was humbugged. We chased that frigate when we should have gone in search of those American merchantmen.’

‘You may well be right, Captain Barclay, but I do not see how I can bring to the Board such a supposition. And if I did I doubt they would act upon it.’

‘What I am saying, sir, is that the despatch which Sir Roger Curtis wrote at Lord Howe’s behest does not detail all the facts, and there are men suffering from finding their contribution to victory ignored.’

‘The King was cock-a-hoop when he heard the news,’ Sir Phillip Stephens said, rather wistfully. ‘Felt vindicated, for you know Lord Howe only got the Channel through his insistence. Lord Hood was livid.’

Damn them both, Barclay thought, pulling out a letter written by Gherson.

‘Nevertheless, I wish to lay before the Board of Admiralty that all was not as stated and that if accolades are to be given, they should be given equally to all the captains engaged.’

‘Very well, Captain, I will see it is as you wish.’

Bustling out of the building, his stick rapping a tattoo on the flagstones, Ralph Barclay supposed Sir Phillip to be right. But he had achieved his aim, had laid his evidence in what was now the public domain. Time to get on with the defamation of Sir Roger Curtis, for he was easier to attack than Howe; any assault on him might be seen as a criticism of the monarchy. He made his way to Covent Garden and a coffee house where he had arranged to meet with Gherson. His clerk had been given the task of finding out what newspaper people might take a payment to promote their case as well as an artist to begin drawing Curtis in an unflattering light. It would have been nice to engage Gillray, but he was too steep in price.

Sitting down beside Gherson, Barclay could not help his nose twitching. ‘God, man, you smell of the whore you have been with!’

‘She was not a clean creature, that is true,’ Gherson replied, unabashed, ‘but she was cheap.’ He then handed over a list of names, with the various coffee houses at which each could be contacted, and it was a long one;
it seemed those who wrote for Grub Street were keen to accept payment and truth was not a fixation. ‘I doubt you will have trouble, sir, in defaming Sir Roger, and I have it on good authority Lord Howe as well, if you so desire.’

‘Not a good move for a man’s career, I think, given the King esteems him. We will talk of these tonight, now we must go and find out how well I am doing.’

It was but a short walk to the Strand and the offices of Ommanney & Druce.

It was a good hour later when Edward Druce was convinced he was having what the French called
déjà vu
, and something more than that after his corpulent partner, Ommanney, having gone through the present investments and potential future ones of their client while supping fine Burgundy wine, had left him alone with Ralph Barclay and Cornelius Gherson. During that hour, Barclay could not but recall a previous visit to these offices when, with a ship after five barren years, a new wife and orders to get to sea, he had sought an advance on prospective prize money from the two partners. The level of condescension they had shown then matched their fawning on him now, and to make him feel better still, he could look at the great portrait of the most famous victory of his much loved Admiral George Rodney which he watched unfold from a distance; there it was, at torn sails, bursting cannon and an angry smoke-filled sky, the Battle of the Saintes.

‘An investigator, Captain Barclay?’

‘Yes, to find my wife.’ Seeing the look in Druce’s
eye, he felt constrained to explain, his voice slightly overwrought. ‘My wife Emily is much younger than I and has had her head turned.’

Was that what could be said about Catherine Carruthers, Druce was thinking, that her head was turned, which made him glance at the culprit, who was watching his employer with a very slight smirk on his face. So was this another young and pretty woman who had fallen for his charms, for he was a handsome devil, with his soft skin and near white hair? What was it about the tender sex that they could not see in such corn-blue eyes as Gherson possessed that the only thing for which he had true affection was himself?

‘For reasons I have yet to completely establish she has decided to desert the marital home and take up residence elsewhere. I must add that she has done that entirely on her own – there is no other party involved.’

‘And if you find her?’

‘I will, of course, seek to persuade her of the error of her ways, and beg that she comes back to be the dutiful wife I married and have deep affection for.’

Gherson’s reaction then, the widening smirk seen out of the corner of his eye, convinced Druce that Barclay was not telling the truth, not that such a fact was any of his concern. But there was advantage in this; he could recommend Hodgeson for both tasks that had been brought to his attention this day and hope that he only succeeded in one of them. Damn me, he thought, I should charge the fellow commission.

‘I do know of someone who might be able to help.’

‘And how do I find him?’

‘Let me do that for you. I take it you are, as usual, staying at Brown’s?’

‘I am, so send him to me there.’

‘Actually, Captain Barclay, I think it would be best if you met in my office, with me present to introduce him and to offer, should you be at sea, to monitor his activities, a duty I am happy to undertake with no charge upon your tariff.’

‘That is kind of you, sir.’

‘I take it Mr Gherson will be coming by for a more thorough examination of your portfolio?’

‘Tomorrow, if that suits, Mr Druce,’ Gherson replied.

‘Fine, I look forward to it, but I would suggest you meet Hodgeson on your own, it is after all a personal matter.’

‘I agree,’ Barclay said, throwing a glare at Gherson.

And, Druce was thinking, I have the whole of tonight to think how to play this game.

To be at sea was blissful; the weather was warm, the sea, albeit with a strong Atlantic swell, presented no threat and, once past the Lizard and heading due south the ship was eating up the miles with a potent westerly on its beam. With yards trimmed near fore and aft the bowsprit was the main driver and the deck was canted like a shallow roof, which made movement interesting and meant no food would stay still on any table. The crew seemed not to have changed in any way, they treated him as they always had, with respect and what looked like regard, so it took time for John Pearce to realise that the crew of HMS
Larcher
had resentments when it came to Charlie and Rufus.

New men in a settled crew always had a hard time bedding in. In what could be years of sailing together few mysteries remain as to how a man would think, never mind speak or act. A scratched nose was a signal some fellow wanted a pipe of tobacco, moods and tempers were related to the state of the moon, the crew had a vernacular of their own, based on common navy slang but subtly altered by their shared experience and the common jests that became like old friends; his Pelicans had none of that.

They had accepted Michael because he had acted as a servant; no more, he was content to be part of the lower deck and treat Pearce as what he was, the man in command, which did not allow for too much familiarity. The fact that the other two had dined with the captain and his lady as soon as they had come aboard was seen as suspicious: were they set to spy? They could not help themselves for being a bit familiar and that was before Pearce himself dented his reputation by chastising one of the crew merely for telling a vulgar tale in the hearing of Emily.

It was a problem having a woman on board in a ship with no proper heads to speak of, saving a slops bucket tossed over and washed, and it stood to reason a lady wanted to be clean, so it was rig a sail every couple of days, fill up a butt of water and let her do her necessaries to the back of that and no hands allowed aloft, though there was no way to avoid the surreptitious looks for the hope of spotting a flash of bare flesh, even an ankle. Most of the crew were under twenty-five years of age, many of them younger, and they were as red-blooded as any of
their years. But unused to company of that nature, one hand forgot that he was stitching eyelets in a sail hard by where Emily was doing her ablutions and he was not quiet in his tale-telling.