For King or Commonwealth (7 page)

What Faulkner did not know until later was that White had been correct and before the Dutch naval squadron departed the Haringvliet, the Dutch authorities had extracted from Moulton an undertaking not to interfere with the safe passage of Dutch merchantmen. Although several of Moulton's ships had entered Helvoetsluys and their men had suborned most of Prince Rupert's little fleet, many of the defecting ships had left their commanders ashore, sufficient uncertainty prevailed as to their fate that it was not until the
Phoenix
had almost worked inshore of the squadron that one vessel woke up to the advantages of her capture. Even now, however, luck favoured Faulkner, for the Commonwealth squadron was in some disarray as a consequence of the defection of the Royalist ships. Each had been assigned one of Moulton's men-of-war to stand guard over her in case her company changed its collective mind and these contemplated their charges, rather than a maverick King's ship sailing boldly through them. Added to this was the fact that a large number of Moulton's men were absent, for the squadron's boats had been sent into the Haringvliet to cut out the
Antelope
, as Faulkner would shortly discover.

Thus the
Phoenix
had almost won through when Faulkner called to his officers to prepare to engage on the larboard side.

‘There's a ship of twenty or so guns bearing down upon us,' he called. She looked like one of the
Lion's Whelps
, one of which he had himself commanded. If so, while she might outgun the
Phoenix
, the weight of metal she threw would be less than their own.

‘Make ready,' he called, holding his course. ‘On no account fire until we are fired into. I have no wish to be branded pirate.'

‘That you already are,' White called back, referring to their exploit of the previous day. The remark, though technically insolent, heartened the men and raised a cheer so that Faulkner knew its worth and mentally thanked White for it. He watched the approaching
Whelp
as her commander altered his course to drop across the
Phoenix
's bow. A gun was fired to windward, the puff of grey-white smoke hanging in the wind as the concussion followed. The
Phoenix
stood on, ignoring the signal to heave to.

Faulkner watched as the
Whelp
drifted slowly to leeward. The distance between the two shrank and the foreshortening of the
Whelp
's hull betrayed her commander's anxiety for her stern.

‘Shift your men over to the starboard guns,' he called down to Lazenby, watching as the guns' crews quietly crossed the deck.

Turning on to a parallel course, she made sail as the
Phoenix
ranged up alongside and, under the muzzles of the
Whelp
's larboard battery, they surged alongside for a few moments. Again Faulkner went through his little charade and again it seemed to do the trick until someone aboard the
Whelp
recognized him.

‘Hey! That's Captain Faulkner! He's no Dutchman! He's a King's man under false colours!'

Faulkner thought fast. Hailing the
Whelp
he roared, ‘Aye, this is Captain Faulkner but I am sailing under a warrant of the Seven United Provinces! Fire into me and I'll respond, as will all seven of the Dutch Admiralties!'

A perfect silence met this false claim and then he watched as the
Whelp
's helm went over and she turned sharply, her bowsprit almost raking their rail, to come up into the wind under their stern. A moment later she was standing offshore on the starboard tack, heading to rejoin her consorts.

‘Was that blind man's bluff, Captain Faulkner?' White asked with an air of amused whimsy.

One last drama was to beset them before the
Phoenix
fetched her mooring off Helvoetsluys and gave some clue as to the apparent incompetence of Moulton's attempt to thwart their entry. Barely a mile inside the Haringvliet as, under reduced sail and with a leadsman in the main chains, the
Phoenix
crept cautiously through the shallows towards her destination, they encountered the boats of Moulton's ships surrounding the captured
Antelope
.

To avoid complaints from the local admiralty, Faulkner had ordered the proper colours hoisted as they entered Dutch waters and, although these were concealed by the main topsail until they were almost abreast of the gaggle of boats surrounding the cut-out
Antelope
, once they were spotted, they produced shouts of abuse and derision. For a few moments Faulkner feared that the Commonwealth seamen in the boats might pursue and board them, but they were soon past and Faulkner realized that most of the attacking party were occupied carrying the
Antelope
to sea, Prince Rupert having previously removed her hands and distributed them among his own most trusted ships. Faulkner also realized that in cutting out the
Antelope
, Moulton's men had strained their undertaking not to molest the ships of the English Royalist far enough, and the seizure of the
Phoenix
– should they have achieved it, which was by no means certain – would be a provocation too far. Full comprehension of all these subtle but influential circumstances came much later and the sudden anxieties turned Faulkner's guts to water for a few fearful minutes. But the incident was soon over and, with beating heart, he gave the orders to make the shallow turn in the channel that brought the elaborate church spires of Helvoetsluys into view.

‘From Hell and Helvoetsluys, Good Lord deliver us,' White intoned before turning to Faulkner. ‘I'll go forrard and make ready,' he said purposefully. ‘And may I congratulate you, Captain Faulkner, on a most successful cruise.'

With his innards still subsiding from the morning's excitements, Faulkner responded with a wan smile. ‘I hope the men will not be disappointed at the lack of prizes. Moulton's fleet has had all the luck there.'

‘Oh, they will, depend upon it, but the crop-head navy will soon be blamed for not defending the trade in the Thames and that will carry more weight in London town.'

Faulkner nodded. ‘Stand by to clew up and make ready to moor.'

‘Aye, aye,' said White turning away and raising his voice as Faulkner moved towards the helmsman. ‘Main an' fore clewlines!' White bellowed. ‘And look lively there!'

Later that day Mainwaring clambered wearily aboard. Maintaining the outward flummery of appearing as Faulkner's admiral the old man eased himself into a chair and gladly accepted an offer of wine. ‘Any news from Ireland?' Faulkner had asked, as he handed him the charged glass. Mainwaring shook his head.

‘Nothing of import, but you have fared well if what I hear from the scuttlebutt on deck is anything to go by. Now tell me the truth of it . . .'

Faulkner made a verbal report, concluding that he thought he had ‘annoyed the enemy in accordance with His Highness' desires'.

‘So it would seem, Kit, and it is well done. While we may have lost a significant part of our power here, you have shown we are not without teeth.'

‘Perhaps. But Moulton blockades us and will not let me out as readily as he let me in, distracted as he was with the seizure of the
Antelope
.'

‘Aye, it was the news of his insolence that brought me here so fortuitously to meet you.' Mainwaring related how he had been at the head of a small body of cavalier gentlemen turned out of the
Antelope
as what remained of her defecting crew cheered the incoming boats of Moulton's squadron. It had been a desultory and futile business, a strutting and posing affair as the ship was seized by their enemy amid taunting cries of ‘Wages and victuals!' – the promised advantages of serving the English Parliament. Mainwaring's old shoulders sagged as he related the circumstances. ‘'Tis a sad affair,' he concluded, ‘and has cost us her purchase price, though Rupert took out her guns before the bill of sale was offered – which is a mercy of sorts, I suppose.' Mainwaring nodded his gratitude as Faulkner refilled his glass.

‘That means more work for you, I presume.'

‘What, the spoiled purchase?' Faulkner nodded. Mainwaring shrugged. ‘It never ceases and the thinner our resources the greater the labour.'

‘And what of the King himself, as I suppose we must now call him?'

‘He talks about going to Paris.'

‘Paris? To fall into Louis' arms? God save us!'

‘To gain a pension, it is rumoured, or so Kate tells me . . .'

‘And she would know the Royal mind, no doubt,' Faulkner remarked bitterly.

‘Her lot is not an easy one, Kit,' Mainwaring said kindly. ‘We outstay our welcome here at Helvoetsluys – there have been some ugly scenes here and the Dutch will be glad when we are gone for many of our men ran wild until Moulton's crop-heads carried them away. There are a few remaining; you'll find them begging and protesting their undying loyalty to King Charles, the scum that they are. As for the ladies at The Hague, where we are less and less tolerated, well, they have no option but to bide their time and eat humble pie. You know better than most that a woman, like unto a man, will do anything if her belly is empty.'

Faulkner gave him a sharp look and then his eyes softened. ‘I am sorry, Sir Henry, I spoke . . .'

Mainwaring waved aside his protest. ‘You spake as any man might, but you have to realize affairs have been most difficult of late.' The old man fell silent and, looking at him, Faulkner realized he was exhausted.

‘What's to be done, Sir Henry?' he asked, his tone softer.

With an effort Mainwaring heaved himself to his feet. His flesh seemed to hang from him and he stood with a stoop that Faulkner had never noticed before. ‘When your men have been paid something we must to The Hague. I believe His Majesty has some opinions of his own and there will doubtless be orders . . . We run out of all else, but there is never a shortage of stratagems and orders.'

Having travelled from Helvoetsluys with Mainwaring over a flat landscape bright with the promise of an early summer, Faulkner found Katherine in their lodgings at The Hague. Though thin with privation after a hard winter, her loveliness turned his gut with love and desire. She seemed less subdued than when he had left her, a change in mood he met with a swift resolution to put the past behind them. Her solicitude for him made it the easier for him in the euphoria of his return to forgive her all the agony she had caused him. It was clear from Mainwaring's casual but pointed remarks that any contacts she had had with Charles's threadbare court in exile had been fleeting. Faulkner certainly believed her when to his single query as to whether she had seen the King she gave a firm shake of the head.

‘His Majesty was graciously pleased to send Sir James Verney to wait upon me but yesterday,' she had said in that formal manner that she had been taught, years earlier, as a young girl at the court of King James.

‘Oh? On what business, pray?' he had asked.

‘To say he had had word that you had damaged the trade in London's river and was pleased that you had struck a blow for the cause.' She hesitated a second, then added, ‘As was, or so he told me, the King himself.'

‘How the devil did he acquire that news so fast?' Faulkner enquired, surprised at the speed of the intelligence.

Katherine had shrugged. ‘The packet boats run regularly and their skippers and mates make free with the news.'

Faulkner had been too intent in bringing the
Phoenix
safely into the Haringvliet to notice whether a packet boat from Harwich had been lying at the quay at Helvoetsluys, but he thought not. Besides, even had it been so, there had not been time between his raid and any packet's departure from the Essex port for the news of his exploit to be enshrined in even the most superficial gossip, let alone the hastiest of despatches.

Faulkner shook his head. ‘Even supposing the elapsed time enabled a bulletin to be issued, the Parliament would scarcely broadcast the affair to the satisfaction of its enemies.'

‘Perhaps they are using pigeons,' she said. ‘There is a loft at the Maritshuis . . . What are you gawping at?'

‘Pigeons?' he queried with an expression of genuine ignorance and enquiry.

‘Yes. Did you not know? They are a homing breed and may be trained to carry messages tied to their legs. You did not know, did you?' She was laughing now and the revelation of his ignorance melted the last of the reserve between them.

‘Oh, Kate,' he admitted, ‘I am such a fool; my education is so wanting. I . . . pigeons! For the Lord's sake what a notion!'

She was sitting on his knee now and said, ‘This is a land of wonders, Kit; I heard that a tulip bulb can sell here for a hundred guilders and some say far more.'

‘Now you are gulling me and I am not such a fool as to believe that and certainly not among these sober square-headed dullards.'

‘But 'tis true. Men make such utter fools of themselves over money that a tulip is but an extension of the madness. It is said some are set fair to ruin themselves in the business.'

‘You speak the truth there, by God. And that is not confined to these Hollanders.'

‘And we must mind our funds. This cruise's success may have reached the ears of the King by discommoding the Parliament, but it puts no bread on the table nor tar upon the
Phoenix
's stays.'

‘Is that so terrible when we have each other?'

‘We shall not have even lovers' short commons if one of us should die from hunger, Kate. Thank God the winter is behind us. As for the
Phoenix
, she is all I have besides thee and my debts, and even she is pledged to the King . . .'

‘As I am not, my love,' she said, breaking into his tirade with the sudden affirmation.

Faulkner gulped, brought up short, like a curbed horse. ‘And I am grateful for it, Kate,' he said quietly. They fell into a thoughtful silence for a moment, then she kissed him, slipped from his lap and took a half turn by the table.