Nothing would do but they settle down for tea. The entourage were encamped in the library and they sat with the Prince in the drawing room. When he found out that Caroline had given birth to twins, he just had to meet them and even laughed when one puked milk over his shoulder.
The next morning a note was delivered from Hood inviting Marty to meet him at White’s, his club, for lunch. Marty was greeted at the door by a servant and escorted straight to the dining room where Hood was already at a table.
“Martin, my dear boy, how are you? I am so sorry to hear the news about your mother,” Hood greeted him and shook his hand.
Marty sat and replied that he was fine and thanked him for his concern.
“Let’s order first and then we can talk, I recommend the whitebait, followed by the trout and then the beef and kidney pie,” Hood smiled. “We can wash the fish down with an excellent Hock and the pie with a Burgundy.” Marty agreed, wondering what was coming next.
The whitebait was served and came with tartar sauce and wedges of lemon. It was extremely popular in London and there were a couple of pubs down near the Palace of Westminster that specialized in it.
“How do you get on with Sir Sidney Smith?” Hood asked around a mouthful.
Marty swallowed the forkful he had just taken and thought, why is everyone interested in how I get on with him? but answered,
“Fine, we have become friends after a fashion. He is a very interesting man.”
“Excellent, excellent.” Hood observed, demolished the pile of crispy little fish in front of him and had the server clear his plate before he continued.
“Portugal is under threat. We have intelligence that France and Spain are negotiating to carve it up between them. We have put Smith on standby to assist them should it be necessary.”
Marty still didn’t understand why his relationship with Smith was important, so just waited.
“Our man, Castell, is in Madrid and has his ear to the ground, but his position is precarious as his dislike of the French is well known. We want to send in some support.”
The trout arrived, swimming in butter with chervil and parsley, accompanied by small new potatoes from the island of Jersey where the climate allowed them to be earlier than on the mainland.
“Linette will join you before you leave to return to Gibraltar. I am sure that will please young Mr. Thompson.”
Marty grinned; the relationship between the spy and the lieutenant had developed in the last year or so and they were obviously in love. Not that it would stop her from using her feminine charms to achieve her mission, but her heart belonged to Ryan.
They continued to eat in silence, savouring the taste of the excellent food and wine.
“What else do you want us to do?” Marty asked, knowing that something else was coming.
“We want to ferment dissent in Granada, you have already made contact down there. They are very angry with their Catalan cousins for bowing to Napoleon and are happy to punish any French incursions into their territory. They need training and arming and that’s a job for your Marines.”
Marty nodded and gently slid the last of the succulent trout flesh off the bone.
“I assume you don’t want them to learn all our ‘bad habits’ as well?” he grinned.
“No, you can tell your men to keep their thieving and murdering ways to themselves, but ambush techniques, hit and run, demolition, that sort of thing, would be very useful to them.” Hood frowned and added,
“Have your ships raid the East coast to keep the Spanish occupied over there, away from Portugal.”
The second course was cleared.
“There is one other thing you can do in Spain,” Hood added and looked around to make sure no one was in hearing range.
“I want you to assassinate the French ambassador in Madrid.”
Marty coughed as he breathed in the sip of wine he had just taken and had to use his napkin to cover his discomfort.
Hood waited until he had recovered.
“If we can disrupt the negotiations, it will buy us time and allow Sir Sydney to be prepared for when the agreement is signed, and they act.”
Marty nodded, then frowned, and decided to cut to the chase.
“What do you want me to do with Sir Sidney? You have been avoiding that.”
Hood gave him a straight look and pursed his lips, his hands held together as if in prayer, fingertips resting on his chin.
“You were ever perceptive. Smith is prone to go off and do his own thing, much to the annoyance of his superiors. We are hoping that when he moves on Lisbon to blockade it, you can accompany him and lend a certain common sense to his actions.”
“You think he will listen to me?”
“He has said he respects you and thinks that you will continue to be a great asset to the Navy. I think he will.”
Marty was dumfounded, he would never have guessed that Sidney would have made any kind of supportive statement about him.
The beef and kidney pie was served. It had a steamed suet crust pastry and when he opened it, he saw that as well as kidney there were whole oysters and shallots baked into it. It was served with buttered carrots, late season brussels sprouts and creamy mashed potato.
The Burgundy wine was poured by the sommelier for Hood to taste and he grunted his approval as he eyed the plate in front of him in anticipation.
Marty tasted the wine and knew this one as it was imported by the Deal boys and delivered by Caroline’s wine distribution business.
Marty picked up the conversation again. “The assassination of the ambassador.”
Hood raised his eyebrows over his plate.
“Any particular way you want that done?” he continued as if conversing about the weather.
My god he can be cold blooded, Hood thought.
“An accident or something unattributable preferably.”
“You don’t want us to make it look as if it were the Spanish?”
“No that might encourage Napoleon to actually take Spain over by force.” Hood responded.
The rest of the meal was spent talking about their families and the subject of the twins christening came up.
“You are going to have to do it and soon.” Hood observed. It was common to have children christened within weeks of their birth as the infant mortality rate was so high. They had left it very late in the eyes of most people.
“We could get them done in London before we leave.” Marty conceded.
“Good idea and invite the Prince to be a godparent.” Hood suggested.
Later that afternoon when Marty got back to the house, he found Caroline with Josee, James’ wife, in the drawing room.
“Did it go well?” she asked after he had kissed them both, Josee having to bend a little so he could kiss her cheeks.
“We should get the twins christened before we go back to Gibraltar.” He blurted out.
Caroline looked at him sideways,
“Hood’s suggestion?”
Marty had to admit it was and added,
“He thinks we should invite the Prince to be a godparent.”
“Oh, does he?” Caroline replied, but then got a calculating look. “Actually, that’s not such a bad idea. When do we have to go back?”
“In two weeks at the latest.” Marty replied.
Caroline wrote to the Prince and asked if he would consent to be a godparent to the twins and he wrote back by return that he would be delighted and that furthermore they should be christened in the royal chapel at St. James’ Palace.
So it was that a week later, with as many of their family as could be gathered together, they congregated in the Royal Chapel with its soft brown wood panelling dating from the reign of the Tudors.
Marty had repeated second thoughts about having the Prince as godparent as his lifestyle and profligacy hadn’t made him popular with the people, but on the other hand, it could only be to all their children’s benefit to have a royal patron.
The ceremony was me
rcifully short. Marty always felt uncomfortable in churches. The Prince gifted the twins with stunning, solid silver baby rattles and christening mugs.
Chapter 20: Like falling off a log
Josee accompanied them to Gibraltar to join James, she was having a hard time coping without him in London as she had no family around her and missed him terribly. Caroline invited her to stay at their house until they could set up their own on the Rock.
Linette appeared for the christening. Nobody asked where she had been or what she had been doing. Prince George made a pass at her and walked away wide eyed and a little pale after she whispered something in his ear.
The planning for her infiltration and the training that the Marines would give the Granadans, took over two weeks before Ridgley and Marty were happy with it. They would gift the Spanish rebels fifty muskets with ammunition, to get them started but they expected them to acquire anymore they needed by capturing them from the Catalans and the French.
Ryan and Marty teamed up to take out the French Ambassador, Linette would join Enrique.
The Hornfleur would stop at Malaga where a contingent of Marines would go ashore and set up a training camp. After they had finished, a select team would stay on as advisors while the rest would return to Gibraltar.
The Formidiable, Alouette and Eagle would range up the East coast of Spain raiding ports and disrupting commerce. Daring the Spanish to try and catch them. Snatch squads would capture French and Spanish officers for interrogation.
Ackermann would command the Formidiable, in Marty’s absence, and Trenchard the Eagle in Ryan’s stead. James would stay in charge of the Alouette and be in overall command.
“Be careful when you give instructions,” Marty warned the Marines in the training cadre during their briefing. “Spanish nobles are incredibly touchy of their honour so request that they do something or couch the instruction as advice.”
“Does that mean I can’t order them to drop and give me fifty push ups if they don’t get summit right?” asked Sergeant Bright with a grin.
“I’m afraid so,” Marty grinned back at him, “you will have to use your well-known charm and gentle powers of persuasion to get them to do what you want.”
That caused a laugh all around and some good-natured mickey taking.
“Seriously though, do not offend the nobles or gentlemen. I do not want you being called out for duels.”
The flotilla set sail in the early morning, slipping out of port without fuss or pomp. Marty had already sent a note to Collingwood apologising for not firing a salute and explaining the need to sail with the minimum of fuss.
Collingwood had been briefed on some of the mission. He knew that they would harass the East coast and were doing something in Malaga. He had not been informed about Enrique and Linette nor about their plans for the ambassador.
They ghosted up the coast to the Northeast in light winds under no flags. Anyone who saw them from the shore would wonder at the strange group of ships, a Spanish built frigate, French built corvette, American built clipper and a whaler.
As they approached Malaga, Hornfleur signalled, ‘good hunting’ as they peeled off and headed into the bay. The mission had begun.
The remaining ships sailed on, running through sail drills and gun practice without firing until they left the coast of The Kingdom of Granada and entered Mercia where the fun could start.
Following standard procedure, they spread out with the fastest ship to the seaward side. In this case that was the Eagle, but as none of them were slouches and all had reasonably clean bottoms it was more a matter of form than necessity.
Marty, Ryan and Linette were put ashore at midnight near to the village of Alicante and made their way to Madrid as Enrique had, by horseback. Two days later they parted company at the town of Getafe where Linette turned into a lady of means, dressed in the latest Spanish fashion and hired a coach.
Marty would have had a hard time recognising her as she now sported a black wig, piled up high on her head and held in place with ornate combs. Her dress was also flamboyant and fashioned of black and red silk with lace trim and embellishments.
Marty and Ryan were dressed as gentlemen or Caballeros and rode prancing Arabian blood stallions which Marty had bought at great expense. Marty had been learning Catalan and could hold his own in a conversation which took some of the pressure off Ryan. They stayed in the same hotel they had the year before when they had hunted down Linette’s sister. The hotelier didn’t recognise them.
The French embassy had moved. The burnt-out ruin of the old one was being demolished in readiness for a private house to be built. As they looked at it, Ryan grinned at Marty and nudged him with his elbow,
“All my own work!”
They walked, imitating the other Spanish gentlemen in their manner and attitude, to the new address they had been given and were impressed. The French had used the fire to up their game and make sure they were imposing their presence on the area.
The new embassy was huge and took up the best part of an entire block. The façade was Palladian, was more palatial than ambassadorial and the building was surrounded by a high iron fence. French army guards manned the gates and were checking everyone who sought entry to the building. There were more guards on the door and visible in the foyer.
As they strolled around the block, they could see that the fence extended all the way around and that there was even a double gate to get into the courtyard and stables.
“All your own work,” quipped Marty nudging Ryan in the ribs.
They took it in turns to watch the back door of the Embassy to see when the Ambassador left and how. They discovered that while he stayed at the embassy Monday to Thursday, on Friday he would take a coach to an estate that straddled the river Manzanares to the Southeast of the city. The region it was in was very hilly with cliffs and bluffs carved out of the landscape. The Ambassador loved to hunt and the whole area teamed with wildlife.
They followed him that weekend and mapped out the route he took on his hunting trip, for all the good it would do as they seemed to just follow the game and move at random.
Marty was impressed at how good a shot the man was. He rarely missed with either musket or shotgun. His loader was kept busy and he had the Spanish equivalent of a gamekeeper with him who also carried a gun and had a gun dog.
They couldn’t kill all three and make it look like an accident, the dog made it almost impossible to get close to them and at their hotel they came up with idea after idea and discarded them all.
“There has to be a way!” Marty huffed in exasperation.
For the lack of any other ideas they decided to follow the hunting party again the next Saturday and had their first bit of luck, there wasn’t a dog. That meant they could get closer at least.
They had slunk along staying out of sight in a gulley behind a row of scrubby bushes when the Ambassador brought down a bird that landed a few feet away from them. The gamekeeper said something and walked straight towards where they were hidden to retrieve it.
Marty signed to Ryan to move to one side after passing him the end of a rope they carried to help with climbs. The gamekeeper walked forward, looking for the bird his head moving from side to side. He looked as if he would miss them completely so Marty rustled the bush in front of him as if a wounded bird was thrashing around under it. The man homed in on the sound and didn’t spot the rope hidden just in front of the gully until his foot hit it. As he tripped and fell forward Marty stepped in and hit him with his blackjack.
All the Ambassador saw was his man fall forward into a bush with a cry that was cut off abruptly. He left his loader where he was, reloading both barrels of his shotgun, and walked over calling the fallen man’s name.
He got to the bushes.
There was a shot!
He fell without making a sound.
The loader didn’t look up as he was intent on his task. When it was finished, he looked around and realised he was alone. By then Ryan and Mar
ty were long gone.
Back in his cabin on the Formidiable Marty was explaining to Ackermann what had happened.
“As the gamekeeper fell Ryan grabbed his gun. When the Ambassador got to the bushes, he shot him in the heart at almost point-blank range. I made sure he was dead by slipping a stiletto through the wound while Ryan put the gun next to the gamekeeper to make it look like it had gone off as he fell. We also bashed his head on a rock to make it look as if he had hit it when he had fallen. We were damn lucky that bird landed where it did, and they hadn’t brought a dog.”
“The lord moves in strange and mysterious ways to aid those he smiles on,” Ackermann smiled benevolently.
“Well he helped us on this one. Linette sent a message saying as far as the authorities were concerned it was a tragic accident. They let the gamekeeper off as he couldn’t remember anything.”
He picked up a sheaf of reports and thumbed through them.
“Looks like you have been having fun. You sent all the prizes to Gibraltar under escort by the Eagle?”
“Aye Sir, only the valuable ones, the rest we burnt.”
“The officers we snatched?”
“Taken back in the Eagle for Ridgley to question.”
“How are we for men?”
“We are short but expect the Eagle to return in two days, then we will be back up to strength.”
There was a knock at the door and Fletcher was announced. He was dressed in his trademark plaid smoking jacket and hat and looked as little like a sailor as it was possible.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Fletcher,” said Marty with a welcoming smile.
“Good afternoon, Captain Stockley,” Fletcher responded in kind and plonked himself down in a comfortable chair without being invited.
“It’s a good job I’m your Captain, any other would strip your back for your insolence,” Marty grinned at him.
“If it were any other captain I wouldn’t be here.” Fletcher retorted.
“The state of the stores?” Marty prompted.
Fletcher laughed and flourished a long list.
Vendetta: The Dorset Boy - Book 6 Page 21
