The Devil's Own Luck (18 page)

“I need help, and I want you to help me. In turn I will help you.”

“I don’t recall as how I was asking for help.”

“Do you really so enjoy being a sailor? And then it may be that you want something, something that money can buy. I have money.”

“You want to buy my services?”

“You may give them freely if you wish.”

Pender smiled properly this time.

“I am going to the heads now, your honour.”

“And?”

“I shan’t be long, your honour.” There was something peculiar in the way he said “honour.”

Pender pushed past Harry and out of the cabin. Harry could only pray that he did not report their conversation to Craddock. He paced up and down waiting either for the man’s return or the knock that would herald Craddock and an embarrassing interview. Pender came back alone and entered the cabin without knocking.

“Name your price,” said Harry.

“I’ve not said what I think yet.”

“Yes you have,” said Harry. He knew he would be buying the man’s services only. Pender could not be bought by anybody.

“I’m not so sure that ‘price’ is the right word.”

“Conditions? That is, if you don’t want money.”

“Money is a very useful thing.”

“But not just money?”

“A new identity, a place to live. Somewhere to bring up my nippers without the fear of a hand on my shoulder. And money. But money to use, not to spend. Enough to set me up in a trade. Who knows. Maybe I could set up as a locksmith.” He flashed a genuine smile. It lit up the face. Harry sensed that Pender was a man who loved a joke. He was the type to be popular with his messmates. A man to have a laugh with, perhaps a man you could trust. And this was more like it. Pender wanted to get away from a life of crime. A life that could only end one way if it continued.

“Done,” said Harry.

“Even if your brother hangs?” Pender wasn’t smiling now. But neither was he indifferent. It underlined Harry’s earlier feeling that the man was clever.

“That would depend. If you have done everything you can to help, and it has been of no avail, then yes. Even if my brother hangs, I will give you the funds you need.”

“I don’t want the funds,” said Pender sharply. “I’ve had funds before. But never for very long.”

“I understand, Pender. What of the crew? Do they think my brother guilty?”

“It’s not something I’d know for sure. And since he says noth-in’ . . .” Pender paused as he looked at Harry. The eyes were set hard. “But I would take leave to doubt it. He don’t look the type.”

“Captain Carter claims to have two witnesses.”

“I wouldn’t want to be the Angel Gabriel in the dock with those two lying bastards Carter’s got lined up to witness against your brother.”

“You know them?”

Pender nodded. But he had become reserved suddenly. He wasn’t fond of the supposed witnesses, but they were on the lower deck, and Harry most certainly wasn’t. Harry sensed an inbuilt reluctance to “rat” on his own kind.

“Could they have witnessed anything?”

Pender took a long time to answer, his head to one side, thinking carefully. “I can’t see it. That’s not where they normally hang out.”

“How much is he paying them?”

“He’s not paying them. If’n he was doing that it would be easy. All you’d have to do is outbid him. No, it ain’t that. Them two . . .”

“Who are they?”

Again that hesitation. Harry found it reassuring rather than frustrating. It demonstrated a degree of loyalty, which was, to him, a valuable commodity.

“Meehan and Porter. Rated able both of them, though they are useless sods. They help crew the captain’s barge.” Having decided to speak, he held nothing back. “They are a rum set, the barge crew, and they’re afraid of somethin’. That’s my guess.”

“Would it have anything to do with a missing ship’s boy?”

It was wonderful the way Pender didn’t react. He had a lively, expressive face, yet he’d managed to keep it blank without effort. He merely shrugged. “Maybe. There’s been so much talk of that, everyone stands condemned.”

“Go on.”

“There ain’t no more to go on with.”

“Yet there are people who are convinced that the ship carries a curse.”

“Daft sods, the lot of them.”

“The first thing you must do is speak to my brother.”

Pender held up his hand. “In time, Mr Ludlow. But I’ve no mind to get a knife in my ribs, him bein’ watched the way he is. I’ll talk with your brother, but it will be when the chance presents itself, an’ not afore.” He looked around the cabin. “They’ve locked you up here, good and proper, right at the back of the wardroom. First thing is to make it so’s you can move about.”

Harry offered the gold coin as Pender made to leave.

“You can put that to my account, Mr Ludlow.”

Again that expressive smile.

CHAPTER NINE

HARRY
woke from a troubled sleep, full of dreams in which he or his brother had been repeatedly hanged. He’d spent the rest of the daylight hours on deck. He felt that his mere presence would stop anyone going too far, though this did mean that he had to endure the taunts of the petty officers, who delighted in shouting “Ludlow,” with instructions to “shift his fuckin’ arse.” A rough lot, even by the standards of Navy petty officers, they had no doubt been hand-picked by Bentley for their love of the rope’s end. They started men at every opportunity. One in particular, a burly, pock-marked fellow called Howarth, the master-at-arms, seemed to have taken James’s naval education upon himself.

James was repeatedly struck, but much as Harry sympathized, he could not intervene. To do so would only make matters worse. He stood there for some time, just abaft the gangway, as Howarth sent James up the shrouds and called him down again. At least he was not letting him go right to the crosstrees. His sport seemed to be in the exhaustion that James would experience through constant climbing.

Carter had come on deck to enjoy the sport. Perhaps it was all he had, since Craddock had yet to present him with any victims for a flogging. Even the man whose brains Bentley had nearly crushed the day before had been saved by the premier’s untimely death.

Harry and Carter did not speak. They did not even look at each other. The whole quarterdeck was on tenterhooks as they paced up and down, Carter on the sacred windward side, reserved for the captain, Harry near the gangway, as far down the ship as he could go without crossing the invisible line that separated the two halves of the ship.

Harry stopped pacing, just staring towards the forecastle, and the shrouds on the foremast that were James’s ladder, praying for the watch to change and remove his brother from harm’s reach. He cursed softly, as Howarth, with a vicious blow, caught James around the ear. It was too much; he spun round to shout at Carter. Instead he found himself looking into the face of Turnbull, who had come up behind him, unannounced. The young man seemed quite recovered from his earlier debauch, looking pink and healthy in the fading light.

“Would you wish me to intervene?” he asked.

Harry, surprised, looked over Turnbull’s shoulder to where Carter stood.

“I am aware that my uncle is on the quarterdeck, Mr Ludlow. Excuse me.” He squeezed past Harry and walked down the gangway. Howarth was standing, his hands on his hips and his head back, looking up at James as he climbed. Turnbull spoke, and the man turned. What he said, Harry did not hear. But Howarth stopped shouting, and James was sent below when he came down.

Turnbull came back towards him. Harry fought the temptation to turn and see what effect his nephew’s action had on the Captain. Instead he smiled at Turnbull.

“Thank you,” he said.

“I owe you an apology, Mr Ludlow. I was rude to you at dinner. I admit to being somewhat in my cups, and I hope you will understand that I naturally support my uncle in any quarrel. The proper course would have been for me to decline the invitation.”

“I don’t think your uncle will be pleased by your intervention just now.”

“I am old enough to choose my own manner of making amends.” The air was rent with whistles, shouts, and running feet. It was time to change the watch. Harry felt the tension drain out of him. James would be safe for four hours. Turnbull nodded and walked away. Harry saw Carter give the young man a cold look, before he himself turned and left the deck.

He saw Pender. He didn’t acknowledge Harry, and the thought flashed through Harry’s mind that Pender could easily betray him. Yet he doubted it. Pender struck him as a man who would always keep his mouth shut about the affairs of others. Besides, Craddock’s attitude seemed the same, friendly in private, distant but affable in public. He stood on the starboard gangway, halfway between the quarterdeck and the forecastle deck, looking down into the open pit of the waist. Men were going across the upper deck, heading for the stairwells that would lead down to the gundeck and some rest. Harry felt weary himself. Ignoring everyone, he made straight for his cabin and lay down in his cot. Surely Pender should have given some sign? Harry couldn’t help but wonder if, realizing the danger, he had decided to forget the whole thing. It was with that thought that he fell asleep, a troubled slumber. When he awoke, he knew that something unusual had disturbed him.

There was a steady knocking on the sternlight glass, plainly audible over the groaning of the ship’s timbers and rigging. Harry, on his walks, had surreptitiously availed himself of a marlinspike. Reaching under his cot, he picked it up, before unlashing and opening the casement. Pender slipped through and into the cabin. He was wearing a pea-jacket several sizes too big for him, and he had the remains of a length of rope round his shoulder. The remainder snaked out of the window.

“Here, your honour,” he said quietly, slipping off the rope. “You’ll be needin’ this.”

Harry took the rope and quickly lashed it to the hook that held his cot.

“That’ll allow you to come and go as you please, at least at night.” He reached into his pea-jacket and produced a T-shaped piece of metal with a square end.

“I’ve rigged the after gunport on the lower deck, nearest I can get to below this one,” said Pender, holding up the metal. “It’s weighted with shot, so it’ll open a treat. There’s a hole dead centre at the bottom. Use this and you’ll be able to lift it from the outside. It’s well greased so’s it shouldn’t make no noise as it opens. My hammock is slung hard by it, and I know my mates will say nowt. But you’ll need to have a care all the same. Provided we are on this tack you can practically walk down the tumblehome. If not, then there’s the rope. Don’t drop the key, for Christ’s sake. I had a hellish time getting the armourer to fashion it.”

“I’m going to need some clothes,” said Harry.

Pender slipped off the dark pea-jacket and handed it to Harry.

“That’ll do for most, at least at night. I dare say that you’ve got some pants of your own. Best rip the bottoms off ‘em or you’ll be spotted for a gent.”

Harry changed quickly, using the sword to cut the bottoms of an old pair of pantaloons. He slipped on the pea-jacket, and gave Pender a look that indicated he was ready.

Pender smiled, looking at Harry’s head. “Well, you’ll never make old bones in the thieving game, an’ that’s for sure. That there is like a rabbit’s arse.”

Harry put a hand to his head, having completely forgotten about the white bandage round his head. Quickly he removed it.

Pender flashed another smile. “I brought you this.” He produced from his waistband a short sword. “There’ll be hell to pay an’ no pitch if’n they find this missin’ in the mornin’. I got word to your brother that you are concerned for him.” He grabbed Harry’s arm tightly, as if to quell his excitement. “And I mean ‘a word.’ The only time he is alone is when he’s asleep. Christ, he even has one of his watch with him in the heads.”

Harry followed Pender out of the quarter-gallery casement, the line well secured for the return journey. Being French built, the
Magnanime
had a broader hull than that of an English seventy-four. This width narrowed with each deck, and the heel of the ship meant that the rough painted planking along the side was like a sloping roof. The same breeze which had blown for the past forty-eight hours was carrying the ship along at a steady six knots towards Gibraltar. Feeling it on his back made Harry impatient, a feeling that he had to fight back. Caught in this garb wandering about the lower deck would, at the very least, see him confined to the wardroom for the rest of the voyage.

Pender had already opened the lower gunport and slipped through. Outside sounds were covered by the noise of the wind in the rigging. On the lower deck the groaning of the ship’s timbers and the stretching of the various ropes were enough to cover the sound of their bare feet as they made their way between the men sleeping in their hammocks.

Again, Harry thought, not all of them would be sleeping. Illegal activities took place in the darker recesses of all ships. There would be a group of gamblers somewhere, with dice and cards, perhaps more than one. Probably, given the example set so recently by the French, and the conditions of life at sea under a captain like Carter, there would be a group in some corner of the ship indulging in a lot of talk about mutiny. Then there would be the others, men trapped in a ship of the line who could not keep their passions in check.

Sodomy and bestiality were both capital offences, yet they were endemic in a fighting ship. How could it be otherwise, when you took a large group of men, and cooped them up, for months on end, with no female company? They were not even allowed ashore in an English-speaking port, for fear they would desert. Most could keep their passions in check, but there was always a minority who could not. It was a hanging at the yard-arm for those who were caught. Few were, through a combination of natural guile, and a desire by everyone in the Navy to ignore such goings on if they could. The official attitude was stern and unbending, and there was certainly the odd hanging when matters got out of hand. The practical attitude was that it could not really be stopped, and that provided the correct level of discretion was observed, a blind eye could be turned. So theirs would not be the only movement around the ship. But those indulging in nefarious night-time activities would be just as keen to avoid contact. The only real danger came from chancing across someone in authority. Given the low light from the ship’s lanterns, they could feel reasonably safe.