Blood Diamond: A Pirate Devlin Novel (14 page)

‘Philippe intends the jewel to be set into a crown for the young king at his coronation.’ Walpole paused and swallowed. ‘We would like it before that.’

‘And you want me to go and get it.’ He looked at them all. ‘Am I permitted to know why?’

Viscount Townshend, Secretary of State, cleared his throat. His turn to speak. ‘My brother-in-law has quite a verbose turn of phrase, Captain. We shall be here all day if we are to rely on him to give you your orders.’

Devlin’s manner shifted. Orders. The wrong word, spoken softly enough to be missed by powdered ears. He let it lie but would remember its utterance.

‘Do you know anything about “business”, boy?’ Townshend had perhaps fifteen years on Devlin, hardly enough to warrant the form of address. Again, these would be the things that Devlin would keep in his pocket for when the time came.

‘I know my own business,’ he said.

‘No doubt. However, in the earnest world, it is trade that feeds the people. And trade is the order of companies. And British companies rule the world.’ There was pride in his tone that did not match the worry in his eyes.

‘The design is a simple one. In a company no one man has the power. The responsibilities, and the profits, are spread to all those who have invested so. And, in order to maintain that companies operate appropriately, ministers are “invited” to accept shares, to have an interest in the company pursuing the King’s best interests and so on and so forth.’ He waved away the last statement as if it were superfluous to all.

‘You are aware of the South Sea Company, are you not Captain? I’m sure at some time – how is the phrase? – they have chanced across your bow?’ He did not wait for an answer.

‘Situations in Europe, for which the aforementioned Mister John Law is not wholly without blame, and developments in the Americas and Indies, have led to a collapse of several companies, and consequently the financial institutions that depended upon them. We are facing a similar problem in England.’

Walpole snorted under his breath. ‘Rather more than a
problem
, Charles!’ He assigned a smirk with Stanhope.

Townshend affected not to hear. ‘You see, Captain, when one forms a company, the aim is to sell shares in said company in order to support its actions,’ he leaned back in his chair, patting his belly in concentration, wondering how far he would need to dilute his intelligence for the simple sailor. ‘The object being of course to return a profit for those who partook in such shares. Do you see, man?’

Devlin shifted his feet again but said nothing.

Townshend continued. ‘Now, we shall suppose that the company will do well, in fact it cannot fail, sir. The consequence of such confidence elevates the value of the shares to fantastical proportions. A man’s very estate can be paid for in the exchanging of his shares in the company. The success is so fully guaranteed that the company even buys the country’s war debts, so supreme is it in its confidence that its profits will be sufficiently gargantuan in the years to come.’ He raised his arms in mock salutation.

‘Hallelujah! The nation puts its faith in a single consortium! “
A company has bought our national debt!
” they cry. “
We are free! And we are rich to boot! Let us invest more into these great things!
”’ He slammed his hands on the table. ‘And then it bursts!’ Townshend slapped the table again. ‘All around us! The ships do not exist and no-one is planting any crop!
Parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus.
The mountain will be in labour. And a ridiculous mouse will be brought forth.

‘The companies sell stocks that can never be returned on. The stocks are oversold. But as long as people believe the shares have value they are traded. First the Dutch companies begin to collapse. Then the French. All allies of the war, expecting great things to come. But alas, the Americas are not delivering the bounty they promised; Spain is still holding the cards she promised to throw! Then panic! Distrust! Disaffection . . .’ Townshend’s voice trailed off like a poor actor in a poorer tragedy.

‘The South Sea Company is the most heavily speculated. It is the cornerstone. It cannot possibly return on its investment. There is not enough coin in the whole of Europe for it to do so.’

Devlin was unmoved. ‘And none of you foresaw this would happen? Did you not profit? So a few rich men lose some guineas. What matter? That may teach the dogs a thing or two.’

Townshend’s eyes boiled. ‘No, no, sir! You do not understand the world!’

Another insult to pocket.

‘Whom you perceive to be a rich man loses some of his backing. No matter, you say. But then he cannot afford to pay his tailor’s bill. What then, sir, what then? The tailor cannot pay the merchant trader for his cloth. The merchant cannot pay his sailors for their lading. The sailors cannot buy food for their children’s mouths. And so it goes on, sir. The companies do not have the money to pay back their loans to the banks that helped them form; the banks then do not have the money to lend to new companies or pay back that which they borrow from each other, until the whole kingdom falters under a mountain of debt and dishonour! A mountain of promise has given birth to only a tiny mouse!’

‘Hold, Townshend!’ The prince snapped. He had heard enough. He had heard it all for months now, since first Walpole had brought the matter to his happy rooms and suggested the pirate to their cause. This was a time of action not discourse. Townshend bowed his head.

The prince stood and everyone stood with him as always.

‘This fellow has been courteous enough to travel half the world at our request. He escaped from gaol mere hours ago only to come here so and listen to you trouts! He holds a sword, not a pen, for us! You wish him to save you all and yet you treat him like a schoolboy!’ He came and stood next to Devlin; placed a white hand upon the pirate’s shoulder. ‘I will tell him what he needs to know. Enough of your paper and wash!’

He took Devlin by his arm like a bride and led the awkward pirate away to his private rooms beyond the table. Devlin looked at Albany Holmes, the gentleman he had marooned two years ago and had never expected to see again. The hate-filled look he returned suggested that Albany had long hoped their first encounter was not their last.

The next room was as large as the first, with a simpler fireplace but the same grand windows from floor to ceiling with black velvet curtains beneath gilt pelmets. Stools, loungers, cushions and small tables suggested some kind of drawing room. Doors in every corner suggested yet further rooms. The only occupant was the skinny black form of Timms, seated at a small desk in the centre. At the door’s closing, secretary Timms stood to attention, carefully lifting his chair rather than pushing it back over the enormous Asian rug. After the chamber of strangers the familiar if hostile sight of Timms lifted Devlin’s spirits.

The prince moved towards the light of the windows and signalled with a hand for Devlin to follow. ‘That is better.’ His tone was relieved. ‘Such bores these politicians are. Not fighting men like you or I. Save for Stanhope of course. He has blood. As you and I. The Spanish war. The Jacobite problem.’ No further word was necessary. George had led the Allied cavalry at the battle of Oudenarde during the Spanish wars. His horse was shot from under him but still he fought on. He was twenty-five years old then. Twenty-three years later he would be the last British king to lead his army into battle.

Devlin joined him by the window, for the purpose it seemed of George showing him a porcelain vase of red and blue tulips sitting in the light. George cradled and weighed the bowl of one in his hand. ‘Perfect, Captain! An allusion straight from God.’

Devlin watched the prince caress the flower. This day was quickly becoming one of Devlin’s more memorable experiences. He felt no threat or animosity from the Whigs or the royalty smiling amiably at him. But the splendour, the remoteness from his world – he felt the tethers binding him to his men growing thinner with each piece of gilt and opulence, so far removed from his wooden sparsity of ship and tools, mire and blood. He was a servant again, quiet and respectful. As shy as when the butcher appraised him up and down and bartered with his father for his price.

The prince’s attention stayed focussed on his flower. ‘These are expensive decorations, Captain. Two guineas’ worth. Yet one can buy a nosegay for a penny that smells sweeter. Last century, Captain, the price for one bulb could fetch two hundred and twenty-five pounds. The Dutch did little else but trade in tulips. They stopped making things or growing anything else for their people. Tulips became everything.’ He peeled a petal and popped it into his mouth. ‘I could even be imprisoned for such an act as that.’ He placed the flower back with a ridiculous chortle. ‘Yet it is just a flower. But if one man – the right man – says one thing is valuable, it becomes so. And men go mad for it.’ He moved away and Devlin followed a step behind. ‘The diamond has the same power. In the world they are often found at one’s feet; washed up in rivers, picked like potatoes.’ He spun to Devlin with a raised finger. ‘But they are not found
here
. As the tulip, they are exotic, absent. That makes them rare. They are on the other side of the world. And one man tells another man that they are valuable and they become so.’

Devlin had a piece to add, and scaled his voice as politely as he could. ‘I have some experience of porcelain along those lines.’ He could not bring himself, even deliberately, to inject any title in his address to his companion. The prince did not appear to notice but Timms flashed a violent eye at Devlin.

‘Exactly!’ George beamed. ‘Once the myth is broken it is like a fairy tale outgrown.’ He picked out the remainder of the petal from his teeth and dropped it to the floor. ‘But it is just a flower after all.’

The prince puffed out his chest. A hand on Devlin’s shoulder. He patted him like a favoured dog; almost a tear in his eye.

‘My father is the appointed head of the South Sea Company. Half his government sits on its board. Almost all of them have interests in its success. But it is finished. It will break.’ He moved to the table where Timms stood. ‘Come September, when the Company must pay its dividends, the pot will be empty. As much as I would enjoy my father experiencing such public embarrassment I do not wish it on his people.’ He gestured to Timms, his first acknowledgement of the black-coated presence. ‘Timms will explain. I ask, personally, for you to aid us. To aid me. Far beyond any monetary reward. A royal hand will be at your command.’ A tear truly welled in his eye now, as if emotion could move Devlin to action more than coin.

Timms cleared his throat. ‘The plan, Captain, is that you will secure the “Regent” diamond – as the Duke of Orleans has christened it – secretly and without arousing suspicion. You will exchange it for the replica so its absence is never missed. Once returned the diamond will be cut into smaller stones, the object of which is that the smaller gems will be enough security to keep the South Sea Company from collapsing. The diamonds will underwrite the debts. All will be well. The Company secured. Your reward given.’ He paused, swallowed, the final words given almost apologetically.

‘You have two weeks to turn the tide of fortune.’

Devlin burst back into the main room, flinging wide the doors, and the men at the table started and ducked at the wild entrance. The prince and Timms stood behind.

‘
Two
weeks!’ He began to circle the table, a panther’s creep, stalking around the wigs and paunches, their heads following him like dogs watching their master’s plates. ‘Last night you were willing to have me rot in Newgate for a week if I had not taken matters into my own! What then? Would you have given me a week to snatch your gem?’

Walpole stood. ‘Just so, Captain. Your resourcefulness has given us a wealth of time and we are honoured to you. The Company is to hold a general meeting on September 8th. We need the diamond – that is the new “diamonds” – to give a positive to that meeting; to claim that those diamonds represent merely a promise of the Company’s future. Of course if you had come to us sooner our time would not be so limited.’

Devlin stopped. ‘I had guessed at some point the blame would fall at my feet. Though I hadn’t judged so soon.’

Walpole, his statesmanship his mark, was unruffled. ‘Time is our enemy. The Company’s reports are due next month. Our intelligence informs that the diamond is to be sent for setting in a new crown in a matter of days. We are committed to not allowing that to happen.’

‘And why me!’ Devlin raised his arms. ‘You must have hundreds of agents more willing than I. More
worthy
than I.’

‘And more trustful,’ Walpole resumed his seat. ‘Do not presume in particular that we flatter you, Captain. Our task must be vouchsafed to as few souls as possible. To include our own agencies in this matter would be suffering to the end of it. You have your own ship, your own men and a talent for theft.’

‘But why me? You could lift a thousand pirates who might bow more. Why my head to risk?’

Albany Holmes snarled from the back of his hand. ‘
Parlez-vous français, Capitaine
?’

Devlin understood. That was it then. Not his competence or fortitude, although his history had no doubt played a part: his selection was due to his other life, his life before this one.

Before becoming Coxon’s servant, before being whisked into this pirate life, he had lived for two years along the French coast in Brittany. He existed as a poor fisherman, hiding from injustice in London, whence he fled to avoid a murder charge but where he had originally run to, dodging a noose in his native Kilkenny – some shot had cracked the teeth of a magistrate’s wife as she bit into his poached game.