The King's Chameleon

Table of Contents

Cover

Further Titles by Richard Woodman from Severn House

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Epigraph

Tumbledown Dick

Part One: Restoration: 1660–1662

Honest George

Indemnity and Oblivion

Katherine Villiers

The Chase

The Launching

Part Two: Contagion: 1662–1666

On His Majesty's Secret Service

The Birds Caged

Rendition

The Home-Coming

The Deodand

The Plague

Part Three: Conflagration: 1666–1667

Battle

Holmes's Bonfire

The Triangle

Disaster and Disgrace

Part Four: Redemption: 1667–1672

Rupert

The King's Chameleon

Destiny

Author's Note

A SHIP FOR THE KING

FOR KING OR COMMONWEALTH

THE KING'S CHAMELEON

 

DEAD MAN TALKING

THE EAST INDIAMAN

THE GUINEAMAN

THE ICE MASK

THE PRIVATEERSMAN

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's and publisher's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

First published in Great Britain and the USA 2013 by
SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of
9–15 High Street, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM1 1DF.

eBook edition first published in 2013 by Severn House Digital
an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited

Copyright © 2013 by Richard Woodman

The right of Richard Woodman to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

Woodman, Richard, 1944-

The King's Chameleon. – (A Kit Faulkner naval adventure; 3)

1. Faulkner, Kit (Fictitious character)–Fiction.

2. Sailors–Great Britain–History–17th century–Fiction.

3. Seafaring life–History–17th century–Fiction.

4. Great Britain–History–Puritan Revolution, 1642-1660–Fiction.

5. Historical fiction.

I. Title II. Series

823.9'14-dc23

ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-8296-7 (cased)

ISBN-13: 978-1-78010-455-3 (epub)

Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

This eBook produced by
Palimpsest Book Production Limited,
Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland.

For Arlo

Into this Universe, and
why
not knowing,

Nor
whence
, like Water willy-nilly flowing;

And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,

I know not
whither
, willy-nilly blowing.

From
The Rubaiyyat of Omar Kayaam

Translated by Edward Fitzgerald.

‘So, you have had a successful voyage, Nathaniel, and in such uncertain times that is most gratifying.'

Captain Christopher Faulkner paused. Both his son, Nathaniel, and his brother-in-law, Nathan Gooding, held their peace, anticipating some further remark.

The older Faulkner looked up from his diligent perusal of the papers before him, raising his eyebrows. ‘Have you nothing to say?' he asked of his son.

‘I am sorry, Father,' replied Nathaniel. ‘I thought that you had not yet finished speaking.'

‘Huh.' Faulkner turned to his partner. ‘Nathan?'

‘Likewise, Kit. But if comment is necessary I would say that Nathaniel's voyage has proved most encouraging. The Jamaica trade is like to flourish, and that our house should profit thereby is, once more, evidence of God's infinite mercy.'

Faulkner rolled his eyes at his son who had remained standing while his voyage accounts were scrutinized by the senior partners and owners of his ship. He then settled his gaze upon Gooding, soberly clad in black with the plainest of ruffles at his throat and wrists as befitted a Puritan. ‘Heaven forefend that we should omit God from our accounts,' he said with a heavy sarcasm, ‘though I suspect that the skills of Nathaniel here in seamanship and navigation may well have seen him through his venture.' Faulkner paused and, just as his brother-in-law roused himself to defend his remark, turned to his son. ‘What say you of the matter, Captain?'

‘I, er …' Nathaniel looked awkwardly at both men. ‘I am sure,' he temporized, ‘that God oversaw us.'

‘Only
sure
?' quizzed Gooding. ‘Did thy faith not bear the conviction of certainty?'

‘Come, Nathan, you are not a seafaring man,' Faulkner intervened. ‘What explanation would you have tendered had young Nathaniel's ship been overwhelmed in a hurricane? That he had sinned to such an extent that God had wrought his infinite justice upon him and his crew? We deal in realities, the laws of cause and effect, and so do you when you take off that confounded large black hat of yours and stare at a ledger. We have enjoyed a handsome profit, whatever the price of rum and sugar in London town.'

‘I would not deny that,' responded the discomfited Gooding. Faulkner's ready wit was too quick for him, while his brother-in-law's easy habit of command brooked no interference as he rumbled on:

‘Well then, let us praise God by all means for our good fortune and drink a cup of wine to Nathaniel's success.' He indicated the jug and glasses on the table. The young master-mariner performed the office, and Faulkner smiled at Gooding as he took the proffered bumper. ‘Praise God by all means, Nathan, but do not confuse the divine with the commercial. Thank him that we were not committed to the Baltic trade when war broke out there, or that we have avoided capture in the Mediterranean where English ships have been seized.'

Pressed with a glass of wine, Gooding succumbed to his brother-in-law's charm. It was difficult to stay angry with him for more than a moment or two, no matter what his conscience told him. There was that confidence in the old seaman that Gooding so envied, for he had always been a man of business, and he knew himself inadequate to the task of commanding a ship. Nevertheless, he knew that his own skill in negotiating freight-rates and brokering deals was fundamental to the continuing success of their joint enterprise. He also knew, with the deep-seated conviction of a fierce and private faith, that much of this was directly attributable to his personal devotion to the Lord God and the godliness of his own life. Sometimes, however, he feared that God would set aside his personal rectitude and take issue with the casual blasphemies of Faulkner, his partner and brother-in-law, notwithstanding the additional saintly atmosphere engendered by his own sister and her children, to whom Faulkner, the erstwhile cavalier naval officer, had returned after a long estrangement. Gooding had a habit of regarding life not, as Faulkner did, as a series of causes and effects to be batted-at or manipulated, but as an ever rolling balance sheet in which good was constantly weighed against bad and from which consequences flowed. The question that constantly tormented Gooding was whether or not those consequences included an eternal life in the Holy Presence or … He could never quite comprehend the pains of eternal torture in Hellfire but, alongside what he feared, the public hanging, drawing and quartering of a condemned traitor seemed a mild enough fate.

Faulkner was untroubled by such frightful perturbations. ‘How were the men?' the old sea-captain asked of his son.

‘Tolerable, Father. I had trouble with two who roistered ashore at Port Royal and debauched themselves most savagely. I discharged them when they returned to their duty and left them to rot where it seemed their fancies took them.'

‘And you did not want their labour on the homeward passage?'

Nathaniel shrugged. ‘We were fortunate in the quality of the rest of the people.'

‘Such men are not to be encouraged,' Gooding put in. ‘There are far too many of them in the merchants' service.'

‘Most, no doubt, dispossessed Royalists,' Faulkner added drily. ‘Which,' he went on, ‘brings me to the matter of your brother, Nathaniel …'

‘Henry? He is not a dispossessed Royalist. Quite the contrary.'

‘Indeed. But Henry possesses the same hot righteousness.'

‘But what of him?' Nathaniel stared at his father. ‘Do you purpose to send him to sea? If so, he will not agree.'

‘He is become a danger to himself,' Faulkner continued, his tone now serious.

‘He is
political
,' Gooding intervened, relieved of his brief mental anguish. He would have said more had Faulkner allowed him to.

‘Your uncle is a secret admirer of his younger nephew,' Faulkner explained to his son. ‘He thinks Henry destined for a career in politics, God preserve us.'

‘He has radical views which your father does not like,' Gooding put in sharply.

Nathaniel put down his glass, grinning broadly in an echo of his father's winning smile. ‘Please, gentlemen, please desist for speaking the one for the other …'

‘Ah,' said Faulkner with a laugh, looking across the table at Gooding and raising his glass in mock salutation, ‘he has us to a likeness, Nathan. It is a besetting sin to express another's thoughts, but too often done, I fear.'

‘A presumption, I agree,' responded Gooding, ‘but why not quiz the young man himself? I hear him on the stair.'

Henry Faulkner burst into the room without ceremony; he was flushed and panting with exertion. He stood for a moment, his hand against the door-frame, catching his breath as the three men he had interrupted turned at the intrusion. Quite clearly Henry was the bearer of news.

‘He … he's gone! Resigned!'

‘Who?' Gooding asked, sitting up expectantly.

‘Sit down, boy,' ordered Faulkner in the peremptory tone he habitually used to address his younger son.

Gooding shot Faulkner a glance of disapproval; ever since Christopher's return to live again with Nathan's sister and her children, the relationship between Henry and his father had been strained and abrasive. He observed the young man's eyes flash pure venom at his father before addressing his remarks to Gooding alone.

‘The Protector! Richard Cromwell!'

There was a moment's silence broken by the entry into the room of Judith, accompanied by Hannah, the Faulkners' third child. Both women had been in the parlour below and heard the commotion of Henry's boots upon the stairs. The men rose, and then, as Judith sat at the table, they resumed their seats. Only Henry remained defiantly standing, his chest still heaving.

‘Where did you glean this intelligence?' Faulkner asked coldly.

‘I have been at Westminster.'

‘And you are certain of it?'

‘The whole of London knows by now,' said an exasperated Henry, thinking his news was not believed on account of his father's lack of faith in him.

‘It is as well to be certain, Henry,' Gooding temporized.

‘Well, it is not altogether a surprise,' Faulkner ruminated. ‘Dick is no likeness of his daddy …' It was an unfortunate remark, though made without a shred of disingenuousness. Faulkner's rational reference to the worthy but ineffectual son of Oliver Cromwell, who had picked up the mantle of Lord Protector after his father's death the previous year, was not intended to be an implied criticism of Henry, but the young man bristled and flushed scarlet, only too ready to think so. He caught his mother's eye and would have spoken out sharply had not she made a negative motion with her hand.