Marigold Chain (23 page)

This was
very great – and not only from the murderous cannon-fire of the
Dutch rear-guard. The
Swiftsure
was already disabled and being boarded from every side and,
swallowing a sob of impotent fury, Danny turned away to find a
fire-ship blazing down on their port bow.

He did
not stop to think. Even as the grappling-irons seized the
Henry’
s side, he grabbed a rope and,
leaping up on the gunwhale, swung himself aboard the roaring,
crackling pyre. Smoke filled his lungs with choking agony and the
heat scorched his skin as he sought swiftly for the grapnel bolts;
and then, finding them, had to work by touch as his eyes streamed
with scalding tears. The first iron fell loose and then the second.
It seemed to take a lifetime. He reached the last hook and released
it, his chest a raw and aching anguish and his hands burned and
blistering.

He never
knew how he got back aboard the
Henry.
And, lying on the deck in a paroxysm of
coughing, he was equally unaware that, approaching on the luff, a
second fire-ship had succeeded in setting light to their sails. He
recovered in time to watch men frantically hauling down burning
canvas; and by then the third fire-ship was on its way. Danny
staggered to his feet and glanced at Sir John with a vestige of
grim hilarity.

‘
Christ,’
he said hoarsely. ‘I’m sick of this. It’s becoming damned
personal!’

Harman’s reply
was to issue a calm order to his master-gunner. A minute later four
of their demi-cannon blasted a quartet of thirty-pound shots
straight into the belly of the approaching vessel and the Admiral’s
mouth exhibited faint signs of satisfaction.

‘
One to
us,’ he said laconically. And then, ‘Evertsen’s running up a signal
… well, well – he’s offering us quarter.’ He turned to order the
signalling of a refusal. ‘It seems a shame to disappoint him … but
it hasn’t come to that yet. Mr Corwen – prepare a full volley and
fire when ready.’

Mr Corwen did
so and had the pleasure of seeing his guns cripple the Dutch
flagship. Harman, meanwhile, cast an experienced eye over his
damaged sails and rigging and regretfully announced that they had
no choice but to put into Aldeburgh for repairs.

*

Woken at
dawn next day by the sound of cannon-fire, Danny took himself off
to attend to his duties and glean the latest news. It was around
three in the afternoon when he was on the point of informing Harman
that their repairs were all but complete that he sighted the
Portland
limping into harbour. Half
an hour later, he and Freddy were eyeing each other over two
welcome tankards of ale.

‘
Well?’
asked Danny. ‘What happened? Your starboard side looks as if
someone took it apart then forgot where the pieces
went.’

An expression
of disgust crept over Mr Iverson’s amiable countenance.

‘
We had a
run-in with the
Guernsey
.’

Danny howled
with laughter. ‘You mean it was one of ours?’

Freddy nodded.
‘Came off all right from the Dutch – and then some silly fellow
tacks right into us. Makes you sick.’ He appeared to dwell on this
thought and then said, ‘Any word of the Prince?’

‘
Rupert?
No. Why do you ask?’

‘
Lot of
talk,’ came the succinct reply.

‘
What
talk?’

‘
Kind
you’d expect,’ said Freddy with unaccustomed cynicism. ‘Got to
blame somebody, you know. Not that it makes any difference. Reckon
we’ll be in retreat in a couple of hours.’

Danny tried to
work this out and failed. ‘Why?’

‘
Wind’s
dropped. Our pilot says it might come up from the north and
Albemarle won’t like that. He’s in a cautious mood today. Could
have surrounded ‘em this afternoon but he didn’t. If you ask me,
he’s waiting for Rupert.’ He shook his head dubiously. ‘Silly,
really – because it stands to reason he ain’t going to be with us
before tomorrow. Not without any wind.’

Draining his
mug, Daniel bent a fascinated stare upon his friend.

‘
I can’t
quite believe it,’ he said slowly, ‘but I’m damned if you’re not
enjoying yourself.’

Freddy coloured
slightly and grinned. ‘Yes,’ he said simply. ‘I am.’

*

Re-joining the fleet late that afternoon, Danny swiftly
discovered how accurate Freddy’s conjectures had been. No sooner
had the
Henry
come up with
the rest of its squadron than word came to make a fighting retreat
towards Gunfleet – an operation which was conducted with a panache
that went a long way towards restoring Danny’s faith in the
Admiral-General.

The
morning of Whit Sunday dawned on a flat calm which lasted till noon
when a fresh easterly breeze sprang up and enabled the English to
continue their leisurely retreat. And then, at shortly before one,
the
Henry
was hailed by a
fishing-trawler with the news that Prince Rupert’s squadron had
been sighted off the Goodwin Sands at nine that morning.

Harman
received the tidings with a terse expression of relief and
instantly sent Danny to the
Royal
Charles
to tell Albemarle. ‘For we’d best halt this
retreat before we leave His Highness stranded on the other side of
the enemy.’

The Duke
apparently thought so too for he immediately gave the necessary
order. Then, rather to Danny’s surprise, he produced a wallet of
letters and requested him to deliver them to Harwich before
returning to the
Henry
.

‘
And
while you are there,’ said the Duke gruffly, ‘I’d be obliged if you
will look in on Clerke – Sir William, you know. Poor fellow lost
his leg on Friday and he was unconscious when we put him ashore.
One of York’s young men who is serving as a volunteer offered to
stay with him in case he wakes – but they’re not
hopeful.’

Danny cleared
his throat. ‘I’m a little acquainted with Sir William, sir – he’s a
friend of my uncle. Is there any message you wished me to
give?’

‘
No –
no.’ Albemarle rose from his desk and limped painfully to the
window. ‘Damned leg of mine! Same shot that got Willie, y’know.’ He
paused, frowning out to sea. ‘Just wanted him to understand I’d be
there if I could. No. He knows that. Tell him – tell him to watch
out for himself and not to worry. With His Highness come up to us,
we’ll have de Ruyter on the run in no time. Just tell him
that.’

By the time
Danny returned from Harwich the day’s action was almost over and he
found himself with little to do except consider the brief and
wholly astonishing suggestions made to him by a man was clearly
dying. He wished that Alex or Giles were there to be consulted;
but, since they were not, he eventually decided that, for the
present, the only useful thing he could do was remain silent.

Throughout the evening, the men celebrated Rupert’s arrival
and tried to forget that the day had seen the loss of their best
ship which had unaccountably struck Galloper Shoal and been burned
by the Dutch. In the light of Sir William Clerke’s disclosures,
Danny gave a great deal of thought to the fate of the
Royal Prince
; and found that sleep
eluded him.

By morning the
wind had veered back to south south-west and was blowing hard. At
eight o’clock the fleet came in sight of the Dutch and formed line
of battle; two hours later very little order was left and vessels
lay to both windward and leeward side of an enemy whose artillery
pounded them not only with all the usual missiles but also with a
new device comprising of two smaller cannon-balls linked by a
length of chain. It tore through sails, shrouds and rigging,
wrapped itself around masts and snapped them and inflicted wounds
the like of which Danny had never imagined. And by the time he had
seen limbs shot off and bones shattered and a man breathing his
last in excruciating agony having been caught in the stomach by
this hellish invention, he was too numb even to be sick.

It went on
until five o’clock when Albemarle and Rupert, their flag-ships
severely damaged, could no longer maintain any semblance of order
and were forced to make for shore. This time Danny did not wonder
why de Ruyter neglected to move in for the kill; he was simply
grateful for it – and even more so when he realised that the Dutch
were apparently sailing for home.

It was
past midnight before he was free to seek out Freddy and bear him
off to the deserted deck of the
Portland
… and even then he stared silently out
across the dancing lights of the harbour for a full minute before
he spoke.

‘
Freddy –
you said you had a brush with the
Guernsey
. Do you think … have you any reason to
suppose it might not have been an accident?’

Mr Iverson
gaped at him. ‘What?’

‘
Think,
will you? Could it have been deliberate?’

Freddy
thought. ‘Well, it
could
, I
suppose. But it ain’t very likely, is it? Didn’t do any real damage
and – ‘

‘
It put
the
Portland
out of action
for nearly twenty-four hours,’ Danny reminded him.

‘
All
right. But who’d go to the trouble for a fourth-rater? Be different
if it had been one of the flag-ships – more point to
it.’

Danny
sighed. ‘Yes. I daresay you’re right. But what about the
Royal Prince
? Did you see what
happened?’

Freddy began to
feel that the horrors of the day had left Danny temporarily
unhinged.

‘
Saw her
burning, if that’s what you mean. Didn’t see her run aground
though.’

‘
And it
doesn’t strike you as odd? I mean, wouldn’t you expect a first-rate
ship to have a first-rate helmsman and pilot and Captain, all of
whom should be capable of avoiding Galloper Shoal? Or does it just
seem as silly as disabling a sister-craft?’

Mr Iverson
blinked owlishly. ‘What’s the alternative? That the Navy is riddled
with enemy agents all popping out of the bulkheads like maggots out
of a – ‘ He stopped abruptly as Danny’s hand closed tight on his
arm. ‘What the -- ?’

‘
Sh!’
Daniel took a step away, anxiously scanning the dark and seemingly
deserted deck. ‘I could have sworn … did you hear
anything?’

‘
No.
What’s the matter with you? You’re as jumpy as a
rabbit.’

With a rueful
grin, Danny came back and perched himself on a hatch-cover.

‘
I know.
Sound thoroughly beef-witted, don’t I? But this engagement’s been
one long disaster.’ He paused, looking steadily into Freddy’s face.
‘First we get a false report on the French so the fleet’s split –
then we discover our mistake so Rupert’s recalled. But someone must
have slipped up with that as well or he’d have been with us much
sooner. Your ship’s crippled by one of our own and we lose our best
vessel on a sandbank. Am I really an idiot to think that there may
be more to it than just coincidence?’

There was a
long silence, then Freddy said, ‘Don’t know. Someone put the idea
in your head?’

‘
Yes.
Willie Clerke – the Secretary at War,’ replied Danny,
half-reluctantly. ‘And for God’s sake keep it to yourself. I
haven’t told anyone else and I don’t suppose I should be telling
you. If it isn’t nonsense, then I ought to go to Albemarle or
Rupert – and if it is, then I should just keep my mouth shut. Only
I think I need another opinion.’

Mr Iverson
folded his arms, a frown of concentration creasing his brow.

‘
Sure
mine’ll be any use? Not clever, y’know.’

Danny grinned.
‘Maybe not. But you’ve got common-sense and that’s what I need
right now.’

Colouring
modestly at this tribute, Freddy asked hurriedly, ‘So what did Sir
William say?’

‘
That’s
the trouble,’ Danny admitted wryly. ‘He didn’t say very much at all
– and he died this afternoon. I saw him yesterday and he was in a
lot of pain. Some fellow named Warner was with him and, although he
left the room while I was there, Willie seemed convinced he was
listening. To begin with I thought he was delirious but then I
wasn’t so sure. He kept saying he should have told the Duke – over
and over again. Then he made me promise to do it for him. He said,
“All these accidents and faulty reports – someone’s behind them.
Tell Albemarle or the Prince but not – “’ A tiny sound caught his
ear and he stopped, looking up.

Slightly
baffled, Freddy followed his gaze but just a second too late. He
heard Danny shout and then he was sent spinning by a hefty shove
that carried him half-way to the poop as the yard-arm of the
aft-mast came crashing down where he had been; and where Danny,
with no time to do more than try rolling aside, still was.

Shocked by the
suddenness of it, Freddy took an instant to start forward to the
wreckage around the great, solid beam. Then a knife, thrown from
above, missed him by inches to stand quivering in the deck and he
recognised his danger.

Two weeks at
sea had done a lot for Freddy and, without stopping to think, he
wrenched the dagger from the planking and swung himself up on to
the bulwark, his eyes searching the rigging for his would-be
assassin. Already he could hear the sound of running feet and the
voices of seamen, drawn from the wharf by the noise of the falling
spar. Help was at hand; but beset, for the first time in his life,
by cold anger, Freddy did not want it.