The Following Wind

by Peter Smalley

  ‘Well well then that is the remedy, indeed. Excellent, James.’

  They returned to the Marine, and sent the porter Joseph away to make arrange-ments at Matthews Stable Yard. He returned after half an hour with a smart carriage, a coachman, and a team of four horses.

  At half past seven o’clock they climbed in and settled in their seats, James rapped twice on the roof, and they were away.

  All went well for an hour, as dusk became night, then they became aware that the coachman had whipped up the horses to a faster and faster pace. The carriage shook and bounced on its springs, and Rennie and James were flung violently about in their seats.

  ‘What the devil ?’ James rapped on the roof, and called out:

  ‘What is the matter, there? Why d’y’drive so damned fast?’

  The coachman did not reply, and the carriage continued to fly along, bouncing and rattling, until they heard:

  crack crack

  ‘Pistol shots, good God!’ Rennie. ‘Brigands!’

  He was wearing his sword, but James was unarmed.

  ‘I haven’t even a pocket pistol. What a damned fool I am.’

  ‘I have a pair of pocket pistols in my valise,’ said Rennie.

  ‘Are they loaded?’

  ‘Aye, but not primed. Perhaps you will remedy that, James, while I ’ He twisted in his seat and peered through the small oval rear window.

  James lifted Rennie’s valise, which contained Milson’s leather fold which he had insisted on carrying inside and opened it. The carriage bounced through a dip in the road, swaying dangerously, and he nearly dropped the pistol case.

  He got the case open on the seat beside him, and primed both pistols with the flask. The work was difficult. The carriage pitched and swayed like a boat caught in a squall. Twice he nearly dropped the flask, and spilled measures of powder on the floor of the carriage.

  ‘I saw a horse just astern of us, and the flash of a man’s face.’ Rennie, peering. ‘They are nearly upon us, I think.’

  James finished the priming, and handed Rennie one of the pistols.

  ‘They ain’t common brigands, I reckon.’ Cocking the other pistol. ‘They want what is in your valise.’

  ‘Aye, very like. Well well, James, we cannot oblige them.’

  ‘How many are they?’

  Peering again. ‘I have seen two horses there may well be more.’

  ‘We must make both shots count, when they begin their attack.’

  James now reached up and doused the small lantern, leaving the carriage interior in darkness.

  Abruptly now the carriage began to slow, they heard horses snorting in alarm,

  and the shout of one of the assailants:

  ‘Halt, there! Halt!’

  The carriage jolted to a stop. The frightened neighing of horses. Then utter quiet.

  Both James and Rennie held their pistols at the ready in the darkness, and waited.

  A muffled cry, and a scuffling sound, then there appeared at the left side window of the carriage the coachman’s terrified face. From behind and above him, a voice commanded:

  ‘You will open the window, and pass out the documents, or your coachman will be shot to death.’

  Rennie and James sat silent a moment, holding their pistols, then James whispered:

  ‘We must do as he says, and then break out of the carriage immediate, one on each side, and shoot them both.’

  ‘Are we certain there is only the pair of them, James?’ Whispering in reply.

  ‘I have heard only two horses, one to larboard, t’other to starboard.’ Whispering. ‘I believe there are no others.’

  ‘Very well. Hand out the leather fold.’

  ‘Do not delay!’ The voice outside. ‘Pass out the documents!’

  James put aside his pistol a moment, reached into the valise, thought briefly of tipping the drawings and notes from the leather fold and replacing them with one of Rennie’s shirts, then realized there was no time. He drew out the fold, and pulled down the glass of the left side window. He pushed the fold through the open window, and a hand reached down past the coachman and snatched it. At the same moment Rennie:

  ‘Now!’

  James grabbed his pistol, and thrust open the left hand door, knocking the coachman to the ground. In the pale glow of the carriage lanterns he fired straight up at the figure on horseback. The horse reared, and the figure fell backwards out of the saddle with a gasp of pain, dropping the leather fold.

  At the same moment Rennie flung open the right hand door, leapt out and was about to fire when he was fired on by the horseman on that side. A great stab of flame and the heavy crack of a horse pistol. The ball struck the shoulder of Rennie’s coat and smashed into the carriage door, splintering the wood. Rennie had ducked, and now stood up straight, aimed his pistol, and shot the horseman in the head. His horse shied away in fright, and the man sagged in the saddle as the horse skittered briefly, then galloped away along the road.

  The carriage horses snorted and shivered in the traces, and the night was still, then a faint cool breeze stirred the leaves in the trees at the roadside. The distant screech of an owl, echoing on the air.

  ‘Are you hurt, James ?’ Rennie called.

  ‘Nay, I am untouched.’ Calling back.

  ‘Oh, Christ Jesu .’ The coachman, in despair. ‘I has pissed m’self and worse.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR

  On the assumption that their assailants were agents of the French, that had followed them from Portsmouth, Rennie and James paused only briefly to recover the leather fold before departing the scene of the attack. They stopped at a post inn to change the horses and allow their hapless coachman to clean himself up, then proceeded at an urgent pace. They reached London in mid-morning next day, and drove straight to the Strand and Mrs. Peebles’ hotel.

  At the hotel James rewarded the coachman handsomely. ‘You have been very brave.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ Obliging himself to smile, though he was very glad indeed to be rid of his passengers.

  ‘Nay, we must thank you.’ Adding a further guinea.

  Rennie and James went in and engaged rooms. Mrs. Peebles had mixed feelings about accepting them as guests, given the trouble she had suffered during their earlier visit. However, her innate goodwill and her natural desire for profit overbore her doubts and she welcomed them.

  They washed and shaved, changed their shirts Rennie took the leather fold out of the valise as he found a clean shirt, and kept it with him and went down to a brief late breakfast. They were weary, but anxious to complete their duty, and presently they walked down to Whitehall through Charing Cross not Water Passage and made their way to the Admiralty. Rennie carried the leather fold firmly under his arm. Both he and James were armed with pocket pistols.

  At the Admiralty they asked for an immediate interview with the First Secretary, but Sir Philip Stephens was unavailable, as was the Second Secretary. Only the Third Secretary, Mr. Driscoll, could see them in his office at such short notice.

  ‘Ah, Captain Rennie. Returned so soon? I had understood you were to be away much longer, this time.’

  ‘Well, Mr. Driscoll, here we are. Hm. We have certain papers that must be put into the hand of I do not know who, exact, now. Sir Philip ain’t here, and--’

  ‘He and the Second Secretary are at Chatham. Their Lordships have arranged an extraordinary meeting there, to examine the conduct of the Channel Fleet.’

  ‘Indeed. I wonder are you aware whether or no our letter was received?’

  ‘Letter ?’ Looking from one to the other.

  ‘You are not. Well well.’ He bent his head toward James, and whispered: ‘This

  will not answer. We must go direct to Number Ten.’

  ‘Number Ten ?’ James, staring at him.

  ‘I know nothing of a letter, gentlemen.’ Mr. Driscoll. ‘Perhaps if you left the papers with me, I could pass them--’

  Rennie rose abruptly, nodded to Mr. Driscoll, and: ‘We have
took up enough of your valuable time, Mr. Driscoll. We need trouble you no further.’

  ‘Do not you wish--’

  ‘Nay nay, thankee. We must go elsewhere. At once.’ And Rennie strode from the room.

  James smiled politely at the bewildered Third Secretary. ‘Good morning, Mr. Driscoll. I regret that we have inconvenienced you ’ And he followed Rennie out the door.

  As they emerged from the Admiralty into Whitehall, Rennie turned right toward Downing Street, and James fell in step beside him.

  ‘Do you mean to put the drawings in the hands of the Prime Minister himself?’

  ‘I do, James, with our letter of report. Then no matter what happens afterward nobody can say we didn’t put it all into the right hands. Hey?’

  Rennie was on the outside of the pavement, and as he spoke he saw a man riding toward him on a black horse. A man clad all in black, with a black hat, riding very fast, and very close to the pavement. Rennie frowned, then tried to step back as the horse approached, lost his balance and nearly fell. The rider leaned down lithely from the saddle and snatched the leather fold from under Rennie’s arm. And at once dug in his heels and spurred the horse away up Whitehall at a gallop.

  Rennie drew his pistol from his coat, cocked and aimed it. A carriage bearing three ladies began to pass, and James put a restraining hand on Rennie’s arm.

  ‘Nay, do not fire!’

  Rennie lowered his arm, and in bitter agitation as the carriage passed:

  ‘He has stole the papers! He tried to run me down!’

  James left him, dashed into Whitehall and accosted an elderly gentlemen on a grey:

  ‘I must borrow your mount, sir.’

  And without ceremony he dragged the gentleman from the saddle, snatched the reins and swung up himself.

  ‘God damn me, sir!’ The outraged gentleman, his hat toppling off his head, cut at James with his whip and fell over as James rode away at a gallop up Whitehall in pursuit.

  Rennie thought to go over and help the gentleman to his feet, and attempt to explain and then did not. Instead he turned and ran back up Whitehall after James.

  The rider on the black horse reached Charing Cross. James, following on the grey, kept him in plain sight as he bore right into the Strand. James rode after him. The Strand was heavy with wheeled traffic drays, carts, carriages and there were throngs of people on the pavements. The black horse and its rider forged ahead, and abruptly vanished.

  ‘He has turned into an alley, or a lane ’ James, to himself, craning his neck as he spurred the grey forward.

  He looked frantically to right and left into side streets as he rode along the thoroughfare, but saw only occasional people on foot, carts, a pile of trunks and valises outside a house and no black horse.

  ‘Christ’s blood, I must find him.’

  James twisted in the saddle to look behind him as he reached the far end of the Strand and saw the black horse trotting discreetly away beside a carriage heading in the opposite direction.

  James pulled the grey up, its hooves skidding on the cobbles, turned its head, dug in his heels and set off in pursuit.

  The rider of the black horse turned to look behind him, saw James, and urged his horse into a canter, weaving through the traffic.

  A drayman yelled at James as he rushed past. Acrid smoke from a roadside fire filled his nostrils. The stench of rotting rubbish. The sharp odour of dung. His eyes stung, and his nose began to stream. The black horse was now even further ahead, in the thick of the wheeled traffic.

  James followed, was nearly unseated as a carriage turned out of Southampton Street, and plunged on. He caught sight of the black horse again, now far ahead and nearing Charing Cross in the distance.

  ‘He will escape ’ In near despair.

  Then, from far ahead above the hubbub and din of wheels, hooves, and the cries of draymen came the thin crack of a pistol shot. And he saw the rider on the black horse fall. Captain Rennie had shot him dead.

  ‘You stole a horse, Sir James, and rode in hot pursuit? And you shot your assailant subsequent, Captain Rennie?’

  The Prime Minister Mr. Pitt looked from one to the other very keenly, sitting behind the desk in his study. His face was very pale, and he looked thin and tired.

  ‘He pointed a pistol at my head, sir.’ Rennie, standing politely with James before the desk. ‘He had already tried to run me down, previous. I really had no choice, I think.’

  ‘It is a most disturbing tale, gentlemen. A horse stolen. Pistol shots in the streets of London and a man killed, to great alarum. All most unfortunate.’

  The Prime Minister lowered his gaze a moment to the intricate drawings lying spread on his desk in the glow of the argon lamp.

  ‘Howsomever, these these ship designs, you say recovered and protected at great cost will be extremely valuable to the nation. Hm?’

  He lifted his gaze to Rennie.

  ‘Erm well well, it ain’t for me to estimate their value, sir. Their architect, the inventor Mr. Milson, that Sir James and I went to Naples to find--’

  ‘Who ain’t with you in London?’ The Prime Minister interrupted him.

  ‘Erm, no, sir. He he died at sea. It is all in our letter of report. He assured Sir James and myself that his designs was the future of all shipping.’

  ‘And do you believe that, Captain Rennie?’ Then, holding up a finger. ‘Nay, in course, you have said already that you cannot judge. Hm. Clearly others think they are important, given your ordeal today. Agents of our enemies. Hm?’

  ‘Indeed, sir. We have had very great difficulty bringing the designs to London, so that you may them see for yourself.’

  ‘Well, you know, I am even less able than are you, Captain Rennie, to evaluate nor estimate their content.’ He frowned, and: ‘We have met on a previous occasion, Captain Rennie, have we not ?’

  ‘We have, sir.’ A little bow.

  ‘Yes. Forgive me, I cannot quite collect ?’

  Rennie was about to tell him, when there was a discreet knock on the door, and a small neat man in a dark coat and high tied stock came into the study.

  ‘The ambassador is here, sir.’

  ‘Ah, yes, thankee .I shall be there in a moment. Give him something to drink.’

  ‘Sir.’ The small man bowed, and withdrew.

  Mr. Pitt rose from his desk. ‘Gentlemen, you must forgive me, I am hard pressed today. I must first see the ambassador, and then address the house. Thank you for bringing the matter to my attention.’ Indicating the drawings with a nod. ‘It will in course be put in the most capable of hands.’

  Rennie was puzzled, and a little put out. ‘Erm we will take up no more of your time, sir but was it not you yourself that instigated this mission?’

  ‘Instigated it? The acquisition of these documents? Nay, Captain Rennie, it was not. The first I have heard of your venture is what ye have told me here today.’

  ‘Mr. Symonds of the Secret Service Fund that has also lost his life did not have your authority in this, sir ?’ Astonished.

  A momentary flicker in the Prime Minister’s expression, he looked away a moment, then at once regained his composure. ‘Hm I may have put my name to a paper, gentlemen I may have done so, months since as I put my name to many such, day upon day. All I will say to you, here and now, is that I must leave the working of these things the Fund, and like matters in large to others, else I could not proceed, I could not govern adequate, when the country is at war.’

  ‘Yes, sir .I see. Thank you for agreeing to receive us.’ Another bow.

  ‘I must leave you, gentlemen. A servant will show you out.’ He moved to a narrow door behind his desk, paused and turned. ‘Make certain you follow the servant very close. This is a large and confusing old house, a great warren of passage-ways in which I fear it is all too easy to get lost. Thankee again, gentlemen. Good day to ye.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

  Having delivered Milson’s drawings to the Prime Minister, Rennie and James made their
way back to Mrs. Peebles’ hotel. As they walked up Whitehall, James:

  ‘Did you believe him, William?’

  ‘The Prime Minister? That he was not behind this?’

  ‘Exact.’

  ‘Whether or no I believe him or neither of us does ain’t the question, James.’

  ‘Then what is the question, good heaven?’

  ‘Are we to be blamed for losing Milson? Even though we have delivered his wretched drawings into the right hands. Or will only one of us be blamed?’

  James glanced at him, walked on in silence a moment, then:

  ‘I wonder if I should ask Catherine to come to London, so that we may spend time here together ? Or should I return to her at Melton?’

  Rennie glanced at him in turn, shook his head in regret, and:

  ‘You are free to go home, James, or wait here in London. I am not. I must return to Portsmouth until we pay off, and there await the judgement of their Lord-ships and very likely their punishment.’

  ‘Surely when the Prime Minister has read our report he will speak up for us ’

  ‘I doubt that he will read it, James.’ A grimace, and a little jerk of the head. ‘Nay, as he told us, he is a very busy fellow, ain’t he? The affairs of the nation weigh on him very heavy. Our venture, with all its great cost, and our letter of report .are as nothing compared to the great affairs of state, in time of war. Nay, he will pass the report to somebody else, some other high fellow, along with the drawings.’

  ‘And then ask for an opinion will he not?’

  ‘If indeed he remembers our visit beyond today. Likely he will not.’ A sigh. ‘We have done what we could, James. We have done our duty.’

  ‘Aye, so we have.’ He paused on the pavement. ‘But whose notion was it?’

  ‘D’y’mean if it wasn’t Mr. Pitt’s notion?’ Pausing beside him.

  ‘Indeed. If he merely signed a paper then who the devil wrote that paper?’

  A weary little smile, now. ‘Symonds himself? Another fellow just like him? I don’t know, James. On my warrant I do not. And d’y’know I find I do not care.’

  ‘Even though it may be the whole future of the navy of all ships?’