A Ship for The King (27 page)

‘Husband,' she lectured him on one occasion, as they sat late over dinner after the children had been sent to bed, ‘there are men rising in the land. Does not your own ambition prompt you to wish to rise with them?'

‘Men rise and fall, Wife,' he replied abruptly. ‘Look at Buckingham, look at Laud, look at Strafford.'

‘Things are changing now, changing . . . What of this man Cromwell who is said to be raising a new army?'

Faulkner shrugged. ‘Let us wait and see. Thus far we have been preserved . . .'

‘You are worthy of greater things than all this,' she said, her argument taking a different direction. ‘You are well known to many as a man competent enough to provide ships . . .'

‘I am content, Julia. We have much to be thankful for,' he snapped, her remark pricking his conscience, for if her arguments stirred anything within him, it was a sense of having somehow abandoned Mainwaring in his hour of need.

Towards the end of 1644 it seemed as though Faulkner had done the right thing. Both sides in the war appeared, at least from what Faulkner gleaned, to have worn themselves to a standstill. There were rumours of peace talks, notwithstanding others of a new force raised by General Oliver Cromwell, and these auguries were confirmed when delegates met at Uxbridge. This news came as a relief to Faulkner who, in recent weeks, had been troubled by visitors from among the captains who had taken part in the expedition to Sallee. Although it was never admitted, it was clear that they had been sent by Rainsborough and they sought Faulkner's services in the organization of the navy.

The first of these was Trenchfield, who had been blunt in his recruitment. ‘You are an experienced surveyor, Captain Faulkner, you know Mainwaring's works and his publications and we would employ these in the country's service. His
Seaman's Dictionary
has been published, you know, and we wish to use it as a manual for the fleet.'

Disturbed, Faulkner promised to consider the proposal, hoping that matters would be settled at Uxbridge before he had to commit himself, but, even as the delegates met, another Trinity House man who had served under Rainsborough off Morocco, Captain Brian Harrison, called on him, urging him with similar reasons to return to the fold where he was sorely missed.

Knowing of these visits, Julia again attempted to persuade him to declare himself for the Parliamentary cause, but he refused. ‘They want to plunder my purse, Wife, that seems to me the chief purpose of the Parliament here.'

But on a frosty morning, late in the month of February 1645, a man arrived at Faulkner's warehouse asking for him. He was brought into the counting-house where Faulkner was in consultation with Harris, his chief clerk, and old Roger Godwin, a master mariner who deputed as ship's-husband.

‘There's a fellow arrived wishing to speak to thee, Cap'n Faulkner,' one of the junior clerks said respectfully, interrupting the three men. Faulkner looked up. The man wore a large hat which obscured most of his face. Faulkner could see a long beard and hollow cheeks but the eyes were in shadow. He was cloaked against the cold and his boots were bespattered with mud. In deference to the clean-swept floor he stood just inside the door.

‘Ask him his business,' Faulkner said, turning to Godwin. ‘We must, I fear lay the
Phoenix
up then. See to the matter, Roger.' The old man nodded and collected his papers with a sigh. Faulkner turned to Harris. ‘At least the Indiamen are employed.'

‘Indeed, sir. At least for the time being.'

‘Things should improve, I am sure. The
Phoenix
will not, I think, be idle for long . . . What is it?'

The junior clerk coughed and said, ‘He insists on seeing you alone, sir, and asks that you will walk with him.'

Faulkner looked up at the man and then turned to Harris. ‘Well, there is little to detain me, Harris. I shall see what this fellow wants. Perhaps a cargo for the
Phoenix
is on offer.'

‘I pray that to be the case.'

The two smiled and Faulkner picked up his hat. As he approached, the stranger turned away and walked towards the door that let on to the narrow street and the stink of the river. A thin mist coiled off the silver streak of the Thames glimpsed down the alleyway. The man waited next to the warehouse doorway for Faulkner to catch him up. At that time of the tide the alley was less crowded than the street, and less cluttered by barrows, though it led down to Wapping stairs.

‘Captain Faulkner . . .'

He thought the voice vaguely familiar, though could not at first place it, then the man briefly lifted his hat before his face was again shadowed by its brim. Again he had that sense of familiarity without clear recognition.

‘You do not recognize me, sir . . .'

‘No, I do not.'

From a satchel slung about his shoulder, the stranger removed a package and held it out to Faulkner. ‘Perhaps you recognize the hand hereon?'

Faulkner needed only a quick glance and his heart thumped. ‘Sir Henry Mainwaring.' He looked directly at the man who this time removed his hat entirely. It took a moment for Faulkner to realize that the lined and hollow-cheeked features and the haunted eyes into which he looked were indeed familiar.

‘Eagles? James Eagles . . . By heaven! I . . . I apologize . . . you are much changed . . . older, I mean, I intend no offence . . .'

‘None taken, Captain Faulkner, but is there somewhere we can go?'

For a moment Faulkner did not understand, though the sense of apprehensive urgency in Eagles's voice was plain enough.

‘I am come from the West Country . . .'

Comprehension dawned on Faulkner. ‘You are with Mainwaring and he is with the King!'

‘Very like, but here is not the place . . .'

‘No, no, of course not.' Faulkner felt a quickening of his pulse, a rare excitement stirred him. Fear mixed with a deep longing that confused him for a moment until his thoughts cleared and he seemed, at least to Eagles, to remind him of the man who commanded the
Perseus
in the fight with the Sallee rover off Safi. ‘Come,' Faulkner said, taking his elbow and turning him round, ‘let us to my house, it is only a short step. Walk leisurely and talk of ships. My ship
Phoenix
– a stout vessel like the
Perseus
– is lately in from the Mediterranean and discharged, but we have no lading for her.'

Eagles fell into step beside him as they ascended the alleyway, turned into the street and began shouldering their way through the crowd. ‘I am sorry to hear that.' He paused, negotiated a dray being backed by a rough waggoner, and asked, ‘What is her armament?'

‘Fourteen culverins and a brace of sakers; she is ship-rigged and handy, and faster than the
Perseus
, though she was no laggard, even on the wind.'

‘No, indeed. And what of the old
Perseus
? Does she still turn over a florin or two in your favour?'

‘Indeed, though not as many as I should like.'

Within a quarter of an hour they had reached Faulkner's house to be welcomed by Julia and the children. After formal greetings, during which young Henry showed some social polish that was reciprocated by Eagles, who was equally flattering to little Hannah and Nathaniel, the three of them were packed off with their mother. As she left, Julia's expression betrayed her apprehension at the purpose of Eagles's intrusion and Eagles himself was less happy when they had gone.

‘Forgive me, Captain Faulkner, but your wife . . . she is of Puritan family?'

‘You need entertain no fears. She is headstrong but loyal. Come, sit down and let me see what Sir Henry has to say.'

Eagles's slight air of reluctance prevailed as he sat and handed over the packet which Faulkner rapidly opened. The two men sat in silence whilst Faulkner read the long letter. When he had finished, he looked up at Eagles. ‘You know the contents?'

Eagles nodded. ‘I do, and I bring you other, more immediate, intelligence that is just now reaching London but which bears heavily upon what you have just read and your response may – indeed, I think, will – be contingent upon it.'

‘Oh? And what, pray, is that?'

‘The so-called treaty of Uxbridge has failed. War is broken out again, hence my presence here. As you see from Sir Henry's correspondence, we are anxious to hire or purchase ships to augment those already secured for the King's service, for which we have funds and in which I am commissioned captain.'

‘So Sir Henry says,' Faulkner responded drily, ‘but it was not money that was concerning me. There are those who depend upon me; my family are among several others in my ships . . .'

‘Employment for the
Phoenix
or the
Perseus
, Captain,' Eagles persisted. ‘Moreover the Queen is in Paris and help from France is imminent, all of which will ensure the King prevails.'

‘How is Sir Henry?' Faulkner asked.

‘Well enough, but anxious that you should join us.'

‘And expecting me to do so,' Faulkner said flatly.

‘Indeed, as he confided in me that you are bound to do so.'

Faulkner sighed. ‘He is no longer my master,' he said in a low voice, ‘but I am obliged to him . . . mightily obliged.' He paused before adding, ‘If I am to do as he wishes then I must first secure my family in a place of safety.'

‘There is little time. I can make you an offer for those of your ships in London now. I beg you send the
Phoenix
at once to Jersey . . .'

‘I shall go to Bristol, Husband. And take the children.' Julia's voice startled the two men. Eagles rose and Faulkner followed suit. ‘I am resolved,' she went on. ‘If the fighting has begun again then there will be no peace for this country until either the King or the Parliament has a victory, and God alone knows what misery that will cause.'

Faulkner looked from one to the other and suddenly made up his mind. ‘You are right, Wife . . .'

‘It is not safe, Madam, for you to travel as you wish,' said Eagles. ‘You are better off here in London . . .'

‘Let us eat,' Faulkner said, ‘and while you eat I shall write. Come, sit, James; and Julia, bring the boys.' He rose and left the room, leaving Julia and Eagles to stare with ill-concealed hostility at each other until he returned with pen, ink and paper. ‘I have prevaricated too long. Go! Fetch the boys, Wife; I would speak with them.'

Faulkner sat and began writing. With a short expression of exasperation Julia left the room and they could hear her calling for bread, ale and meat, and summoning the two boys from their studies. A few moments later Faulkner looked up to see his two sons standing before him. Henry was a tall lad, growing fast; Nathaniel his junior and a smaller likeness. They both had Julia's strong, handsome features and his own stature.

‘Hal, go to my chest and fetch me my glass.' Faulkner bent again to his letter-writing while a disturbed Julia fussed at the table as the maid brought in the food. When the boy returned, Faulkner laid down his quill, took the glass in one hand and drew towards him a platter on which lay cut slices of fresh bread.

‘My boys,' he said with great deliberation, indicating the sliced bread. ‘Sir Henry Mainwaring gave me the means to put this on our table, and the King gave me this –' he held his hand out for the telescope which Henry handed him – ‘when he was Prince of Wales, that I might better execute my office at sea.' He handed the telescope back to Henry. ‘I cannot in all conscience spurn the call now made upon me. Captain Eagles here is lately come to summon me to the King's colours and I must, perforce, answer the call that loyalty demands. You shall stay here with your mother, assisting her and continuing your studies. God grant that this war will soon be over and that we all live to see its end but, if not, you are to obey your mother in all things. Do you understand?'

‘Yes, Father.' Both boys nodded obediently, suddenly aware of the seriousness of the moment, if not the consequences.

‘Now, eat. Feed Captain Eagles, Wife. I shall finish these letters and soon return. You and I, James,' he said to Eagles, ‘will embark in the
Phoenix
this evening . . .'

‘Can we not come with you, Father?' Nathaniel suddenly asked.

‘No!' Julia's resolute tone brooked no argument, nor was Faulkner of a mind to dispute the matter.

‘This is no game, my lads,' he said, ‘as Captain Eagles will testify. ‘This –' he put his finger to his cheek that bore the livid scar of his wound – ‘was a lucky escape. Jousting with death is not a matter for boys, though there will be plenty like you swept up in this dreadful business. It is my wish that you stay here and learn your lessons.' He tapped one of the letters. ‘I have here instructed Harris to take you under his wing as soon as you are able, Harry. You Nat, may follow in due course but I hope by then that all this will be over.'

Julia had stood throughout in silence, and now Faulkner indicated that Eagles should eat with the family whilst he went about his business.

‘I shall be back in an hour but I must first attend to these letters.' And with that he left Julia confronting Eagles across the table, and the two boys, much subdued, standing in the no-man's land between them.

When he returned he found Eagles alone at the table asleep, his head resting on his arms. The room grew gloomy in the encroaching twilight. He found Julia with the children in the parlour, the atmosphere cold with foreboding, pain and hostility. It was clear she had attempted to get the boys to read, but while Hannah played happily enough, neither Harry nor Nathaniel were falling in with the diversion and Julia herself could barely staunch her angry tears.