The Monsoon (70 page)

“There’s a skiff in the bows,” Tom said.

“We’ll heave to, and put them into it. Send them home, with our best compliments.” They bundled the four men into the little boat and cast them off. When he realized what was happening the French captain stood in the bows of the tiny craft, his moustaches bristling with fury, shaking both fists at them, and saw them off with a string of vituperation.

“Your mother was a cow, and she slipped you from the wrong hole, you lumps of wet turd. I piss in your mother’s milk. I stomp on your father’s testicles.”

“Speak English!” Luke shouted back.

“The beauty of your poetry is wasted on the night air.” And the captain’s outrage faded swiftly into the darkness behind them.

Aboli helped Tom trim the mainsail and when it was drawing tight and hard, he said, “She is yours now, Klebe.

What will you call her?”

“What did the French christen her?” All Wilson leaned far out over the stern and craned down to read the name on her transom in the light of the stern lamp.

“HirondeUe. What does that mean?”

“The Swallow, Luke translated.

“God knows,

it’s a good name,” they all agreed at once.

she flies like a bird.” forsaken language,” Tom de God “But not in that Swallow! We will mumurred.

“In sweet Mother English. The drink her health when we tie up in the river.” And they gave her a cheer.

When the sun came up they were off Sheerness, and although she had all sail set the Raven was far astern, unable to keep up with the Swallow. The sloop was on a broad reach, ripping white bursts of spray off the tops of the pewter grey waves as she tore through them.

“She loves to run free,” Ned rejoiced, his face creased into a hundred wrinkles of delight.

“You would have to hang a drogue over her stern to hold her back In the sparkling morning light she was as pretty as a maiden in her wedding dress, her canvas so new and bright that it gleamed like mother-of-pearl. Her paintwork was so fresh Tom could whiff the turpentine) and her decks had been holy stoned until they were white as a snowfield.

Tom turned his thoughts to the cargo they were carrying in the SwaUowls hold. He beckoned to Aboli and sent him to investigate. They lifted the hatches and Aboli and All Wilson went down with lighted lanterns into the bill dark holds. Half an hour later they emerged again, looking delighted with their discovery.

“She’s stuffed to the gills with canvas cloth. The finest quality. Enough to clothe a squadron of ships-of-the line.” Tom’s face lit as happily. He knew what prices that co ity would fetch in the Company’s auction rooms’ The s of war,” he declared.

“Good as goldV

-They offloaded the cargo of canvas at the Company’s

Childs and wharf, then Tom sent a note to Lord took the Swallow upriver to Luke’s mooring at Eel Pie Island. He stayed long enough with his men to get them started on the work of altering the sloop’s “tween decks to accommodate a larger crew, and installing tiny cabins for the master and the three officers. These would be not much larger than cubbyholes, comprising a bunk, a sea-chest, the lid of which could be used as a writing-desk or chart table, and not much else. The headroom under the deck beams would force the occupant to bend almost double when entering and leaving.

Tom made plans to lay out the forecastle so that it would accommodate twenty men. He moderated his original estimate of the number of men he would need to sail and fight the ship in an emergency, and still carry a sufficient cargo of stores for a three-year cruise and trade goods to ensure a profit at the end of that time.

As it was, the conditions in the crew’s quarters would be crowded even in fine weather when most of the men would sleep on the open deck, but in foul weather, when they were all forced below, it would become too cramped even for hardened old sea salts like the men All and Aboli had recruited.

Once the new interior had been planned and the carpenters put to work, Tom and Aboli hired a ferryboat to take them downriver. When they called at Leadenhall Street, the secretary told them that Lord Childs was at the House of Lords, and would be there all day. However, he had received Tom’s note and was expecting Tom to call. His secretary handed Tom a note he had left.

My dear Thomas, I was not expecting to receive word of your successes at such an early date. The cargo from your prize has already been sold to the Admiralty, and we have received a goodly price for the entire amount. I need to discuss this with you. Please attend me at the Lords, where a steward will bring a message to me in the House.

Your servant, N.C.

Tom and Aboli made their way down the embankment to where the enormous edifice of government, the Palace of Westminster, stood on the bank of the Thames.

The steward accepted the letter that Tom proffered at the visitors” door of the House of Lords, and he waited for a remarkably short time before Lord Childs, looking flustered and distraught, came puffing down the stairs and seized Tom’s arm. Without any preamble he blurted out, “Your brother, William, is in the House. I left him not ten minutes hence. You should have given me warning of the state of affairs that exists between you.” He shouted for his carriage.

“I

think you should be warned that he is intent on retribution for the injuries you have done him.”

“Tis Billy who was to blame,” Tom started angrily, but Childs bundled him in through the door of the carriage as it drew up at the entrance.

“Bombay House!” he ordered the driver.

“As fast as you like.” Then he tumbled onto the seat beside Tom.

“Your boatswain can ride up with the footman,” he said, and Tom shouted to Aboli to climb on the foot plate

The carriage started off with a jerk, and Childs lifted his wig to mop his pate.

“Your brother is a major shareholder in the Company.

Not a man to trifle with. He must not see us together. For the sake of good order, I have told him that I have had no dealings with you.”

“He cannot do anything to me,” Tom said, with more certainty than he felt. He had to cling to the side strap of the lurching carriage and raise his voice above the clatter of hoofs and the thunder of the steel-shod wheels over the cobbles.

“I think you underestimate the strength of your brother’s animosity, Courtney,” said Childs, and he stuffed the wig back on his shaven head.

“No matter what the right and wrong of the situation, if a person in my position dare I say a man of certain influence? , does not wish to fall foul of him, then how much more should you, a disinherited younger son, keep out of the path of his vengeance?”

Childs was silent a little while, then said reflectively, “I have seldom heard such malice, such pure venom, from any other human being.”

They were silent for the rest of the drive to Bombay House.

However, when they drove in through the gates Childs leaned out of the window and called to the driver, “Take us to the stables, not the main door.”

In the stableyard he led Tom to a small rear door into the mansion.

“I know your brother has spies out looking for you. It is best that he does not learn of our meeting today.” Tom hurried after Childs along what seemed an endless series of passages and stairways, until he found himself in a small cabinet with tapestry-hung walls and a large ormolu and gilt escritoire in the centre of the floor. Childs waved him to a chair beside his own, then scrabbled through the documents that covered the top of the desk and picked out one.

“Here is the bill of sale of the cargo of canvas from the French sloop Hirondelle to the Admiralty.”

He passed it to Tom.

“You will see that I have deducted the usual handling fee from the total.”

“Twenty per cend” Tom burst out in amazement.

“It is customary,” Childs said briskly.

“If you care to reread our agreement, you will see it is covered in clause fifteen.” Tom made a gesture of resignation.

“What about the Hirondelle, herself? Will you take your twenty per cent on her value also?” They began to bargain, and Tom soon discovered why Nicholas Childs had risen so high in the world of trade and commerce. He had the sinking feeling that he was matched against a swordsman far out of his class. At one point Childs excused himself and left Tom alone for so long that he began to fidget and finally jumped up from the chair to pace the room impatiently.

Meanwhile, in the room next door Childs dashed off a long message on a sheet of parchment. While he sanded and folded it, he told his secretary quietly, “Send Barnes to me When the coachman stood before him, Childs said, James, this message is for Lord Courtney at the House of Lords. You must see it safely into his hands.

“Tis a matter of life and death.”

“Very good, my lord.”

“When you return, I shall want you to take my guest and his servant to the river landing at the Tower of London. However, you are not to proceed there immediately.

This is what you are to do…” Childs gave the driver detailed instructions, and when he had finished asked, “Do you understand, Barnes?”

“Perfectly, my lord.” Childs bustled back into the cabinet where Tom waited and made his apologies.

“Forgive me, but there were demanding matters to which I had to attend with despatch.” He patted Tom’s arm genially.

“Now, back to business.” By the middle of that afternoon Tom found that he had the deeds of ownership to the Hirondelle, but that he would receive no monies from the sale of the cargo. In addition, Nicholas Childs had wanted to retain a 25 per cent interest in any future profits that Tom accrued under the commission Childs had procured for him. Tom knew that he was a chicken to Childs’s fox, but he held out stubbornly.

The one thing Tom had in his favour was that Childs had not seen the Swallow, and the description he had been given did not do the sloop justice, so did not excite his avarice. Childs had no employment for such a tiny craft and Tom sensed that he was willing to let her go. He stood his ground and, in the end, Childs dropped his exorbitant demands, and agreed to deliver the deeds of the sloop to Tom clear of any impediment to the title. In exchange Childs retained the proceeds of the cargo.

Childs looked well pleased with his bargain, as well he should, Tom thought grimly. He wondered how he was going to be able to explain to the men who had fought to seize the Hirondelle in Calais Roads that they would not be seeing any monetary rewards for their efforts.

“You would be a wise man, Courtney, to leave England as soon as you can hoist a sail, and to stay at the ends of the ocean as long as your brother’s memory lasts.” Childs smiled magnanimously.

“I am offering the means for you to escape from a dangerous situation with your hide intact.” At that juncture there was a soft tap on the door of the cabinet, and the secretary stepped in at Childs’s command.

“The matter has been attended to, my lord. Barnes has returned and is waiting to convey your guests.”

“Very good.” Childs nodded.

“Excellent, indeed.” He rose at once to his feet and smiled at Tom.

“I think that concludes our business, Courtney. I understand you wish to take a ferryboat from the Tower?” In friendly fashion he saw Tom to the front door of the mansion, where Barnes waited with the carriage. As they shook hands, Childs asked guilelessly, “Where will you take your new ship? And when will you sail?” Tom knew that the question was barbed and he sidestepped the thrust.

“I have only this minute become her new owner.” He laughed.

“I have not yet had time to consider that question.” Childs was staring into his eyes, watching for any attempt to prevaricate, and Tom was forced to go on.

“I think the ports of southern France on the Mediterranean would be my best area of endeavour. Or perhaps the French territory of Louisiana on the Gulf of Mexico. I might take the Swallow, for that is her new name, across the Atlantic.” Childs grunted, not entirely convinced. I do most sincerely hope, Courtney, that you do not harbour any thought of rounding the Cape of Good Hope and searching for your lost brother in the Ocean of the Indies?”

“Sweet Jesus, no, sir!” Tom laughed again.

“I am not fool enough to try the Cape of Storms in a paper hat like the Swallow.”

“All the territories beyond the Cape have been granted by royal charter to the Honourable Company. Any interloper will be dealt with in the harshest manner the law allows.” It was clear from the steely gleam in his blue eyes that he would not be bound by the law in his retribution.

There was an old maritime saying that “There is no law beyond the line, which meant that civilized law did not always apply at the ends of the ocean.

Childs gripped his arm hard to make the point unmistakable.

“In fact, I think you would be wise to fear me more than your brother, if you were rash enough to sail across MY bows.”

“I assure you, my lord, that I look upon you as my good friend and that I would do nothing to change that,” Tom told him earnestly.

“Then we understand each other.” Childs masked his hard expression with a smile as earnest as Tom’s, and they shook hands. It matters not a jot, Childs told himself smugly. I think this lad’s final destination is in the hands of his elder brother now. Aloud he said, “Go with God,” and added silently, Or the devil! and waved a pudgy white hand.

Tom leaped lightly into the carriage and beckoned Aboli to take the seat beside him. Childs stepped back and nodded at the coachman, who returned a significant look then touched the brim of his hat with the whip. He shook up the reins, and the carriage rolled away.

Tom and Aboli were so deep in conversation that neither noticed the route the driver followed. The narrow streets were so homogeneous that there were no landmarks for them to orientate themselves. As the carriage lurched along, Tom related to Aboli all the details of the meeting with Childs.

At the end Aboli said, “It is not as bad a bargain as you think, Klebe. You have the Swallow, and a crew to sail her.”

“I have to pay Luke Jervis and the men who came with us to Calais out of my own purse,” Tom demurred.

“They are expecting a share of the cargo.”