He followed them up to the road that formed the highpoint of the town which he now knew to be called Beach Street, then down yet another narrow alley to exit into a narrow street, well illuminated by lanterns or tallow wads in every window from ground to upper storeys, with inns so packed that the custom, gathered under lamps, spread out onto the street.
Being so crowded it was far from easy to make his way and, given the jostling as well as the number of urchins charging around in what appeared an aimless fashion, a firm hand was kept on his purse: he knew the realm of the pickpocket when he saw one. Progress had him pass hucksters selling gimcrack trinkets, Romany women seeking a coin for a tiny bunch of good luck heather, windows from which food and drink, mainly roasted chestnuts and gin, were being dispensed, while noisy, banter-filled bargains were being struck with the indoor prostitutes of the pricier kinds.
There were ten times more on the street itself, backs to a wall or stood in a proprietary way on an alleyway corner, all calling for trade: varying types, from the mature and large-bosomed to waiflike creatures, some who looked to be mere children, so every desire was there to be catered for. Their numbers increased in density as he came to and looked down a constricted, short sloping street of small cottages, cut off by a wall at the far end, which was full of sailors striking carnal bargains.
Another alleyway he passed probably led to a Molly-house, judging by the knot of fellows round the entrance. It was hard to appear overfussy regarding dress in a town full of titivated sailors, but they managed it by being outrageously outré in their ribbons and multi-feathered hats. One or two were bold enough to eye him as a potential partner, looks that he ignored.
A side street took him once more onto the main thoroughfare housing of what he now knew to be St George’s Church. This was no place for common trades now, but dedicated to entertainment or at least the promise of such, with invitations being called to passers-by that their night would not be complete without witnessing bear-baiting, dog and cock fighting or a bare-knuckle bout between two ‘famed boxers’, bruisers of whose names this naval officer had never before heard.
He passed the Baptist Chapel set back from the road, an odd-looking building with something Moorish about its design, fronted by folk who adhered to its tenets, who, Bibles in hand, were beseeching those passing to enter the chapel and save their souls. Some obliged, very likely men who had just come from the company of a whore, who thought it a place to assuage their guilt.
There was no beseeching or saving of souls outside St George’s. The Anglican faith was too secure in its establishment to feel the need for harvesting. It did have the requirement to protect its walls from human fouling, however, so there were burly souls there to guard the brickwork as well as the closed doorway.
‘Captain, I scarce spotted you in this crowd without your blue coat and naval topper.’
The voice had him turn round and look down at the Irishman. ‘Mr Flaherty?’
‘Do I perceive you’re taking in the sights?’
‘Who would not?’ was the only possible reply to such an irony-filled enquiry, delivered with a wry expression.
‘And does Deal impress you?
Brazier laughed. ‘I would suggest that hectic as it is, its offerings would pale beside an Indian bazaar or even a Moorish souk.’
‘This I cannot contest, never having been near either.’ Flaherty took his arm, but with no pressure. ‘I am about to enter the Playhouse and partake of some wine. It would please me that you should join me. It has entertainments and a card room, but it is also a fine class of beverage.’
‘Even to match the Three Kings? I cannot fault his burgundies.’
‘Claret man, myself. Garlick has a good supplier, and so does the Playhouse; indeed, they’re one and the same, I suspect.’
Flaherty led him a several dozen yards to where a pair of pitch torches, flaring in high sconces, lit up a knot of potential customers outside a set of double doors, then into the foyer of the building, crowded, with loud and raucous singing filling the main hall, finally entering a side room to seek a spare table at which they could sit.
The room was occupied by quiet card players as well as those ship’s masters Brazier had witnessed coming ashore: men of the dress, manner and attitude of those who issue orders and expect them to be obeyed. All were in deep conversation with fellows of a like standing, no doubt talking of freight rates and insurance costs, or the difficulties attendant with finding a trustworthy and experienced crew.
‘Or where to find a superior lady of the town,’ Flaherty insisted, when Brazier alluded to the matter. ‘One who will not lay out her wares for less than a guinea. Will you join me in what I choose?’
‘Happily.’
A gesture brought an apron-wearing fellow to the table and Flaherty engaged him in a discussion regarding what was available in the claret line, one to which Brazier barely paid attention, that being taken by the fellow who had just come through the door carrying a leather-bound folder, to stand and look around the room in a manner that seemed to challenge everyone present. Having placed his order, Flaherty turned to observe the direction and intensity of the gaze and thus the object. He provided a name, just as Brazier was about to enquire.
‘John Hawker, a man by repute it is best to avoid.’
‘I failed in that but yesterday, Mr Flaherty. I came across the sod on my way to Deal and found him singularly unpleasant.’
‘It would be uncharacteristic that he should be seen as otherwise.’ The voice lifted from a gloomy tone to a hearty one. ‘And here comes the lovely Saoirse.’
The woman who entered the room took more than just the Brazier eye, for she was striking in a green dress of rich velvet. A full head of auburn hair was worn loose, framing a pale but comely face and she bore herself with such a degree of confidence it was to be remarked upon. Nodding to the man named Hawker, he, carrying the leather-bound ledger, followed her through a side door, one quickly shut behind them.
‘The owner of the establishment,’ Flaherty said. ‘The sole owner.’
Brazier looked around and evinced some surprise. ‘A woman on her own?’
‘A very remarkable one, Captain.’
‘She would have to be, Mr Flaherty. If I do not know Deal I know seaports. They are rarely places where one of her sex can hold her own without the support of a spouse or powerful protector.’
‘Believe me, Saoirse Riorden requires neither, and as for protection, if you had paid attention on the way in you would have observed the pair of brutes who had station under those torches, men bound to her service and ever willing to act on her behalf.’
‘And she’s Irish, like you.’
Flaherty responded with a wan smile, this as a decanter of wine and two goblets, all crystal, were placed between them. ‘Aye, she’s from the old country.’
‘Do I sense a more intimate connection?’
‘My, you’re sharp, sir,’ Flaherty replied, adopting a slightly thrown look as he poured out a drop of wine, to then raise and sniff at it. The sip he took was rolled around his tongue before it got a nod and the two goblets were filled. ‘A fine brew, a little sister to Lafite and Latour and not shamed by comparison.’
‘You know your clarets, sir.’
‘A lifetime’s occupation, Captain, and one that has seriously inhibited prosperity.’
As they drank, and Brazier showed his appreciation, their conversation shifted to the general and again, the mildly inquisitive. What was a captain doing here with no ship and no position at the Naval Yard? How had Flaherty got into the business of dealing in horses? Brazier was guarded in his response, the Irishman less so, he having been a paid jockey who had ridden for the aristocratic and wealthy owners who frequented Newmarket and Epsom Downs, folk either too fat or too frightened to contest on their own mounts.
‘For a percentage of the purse, of course, and an introduction to the kind of brew our betters enjoy, though too many sink it without appreciation. They are as ca
reless about the women in their company, while I admit I was not.’
‘I would take issue with the expression “betters”, Mr Flaherty. From my experience, a claim to superior blood does not necessarily elevate a man. I can think of one case in particular and his is reckoned blue.’
‘You have the right of it, but you will not be surprised I find in that statement a lever to curiosity. In one particular case, you say?’
The opening of the side door and the appearance of Saoirse Riorden and Hawker dented the need to reply and name the royal prince. Brazier, a naturally acute observer, was taken by two things; a sort of hunger in Flaherty’s expression, but more so by the stiff manner of the pair being examined, which hinted that whatever had happened behind that door had not been pleasurable.
This made him realise that which he had not considered, probably because it did not fit in with his perception of the fellow Hawker; that there might be an attachment between them, one which was under some strain, a point he made quietly to Flaherty.
‘Never in life,’ was the empathic response. ‘They are not even friendly.’
So you are carrying a torch for her, Brazier reflected, knowing it would be something that would not be welcomed if mentioned. Added to that was the secondary realisation they were both in the same position. The pair under their gaze were exchanging quiet words but no smiles before Hawker turned to look once more around the room, demonstrating a flicker of something short of recognition as it rested for a second on Brazier.
Then he was gone, with the owner of the Old Playhouse staring at his back with no hint of regard, more a stiff posture. Then the face cleared and she smiled, a more professional expression than joyous, and began to work the room, pausing at tables to ask if all was well with the service being provided. Naturally, in time, it brought her to theirs and an immediate glance at the crystal decanter. It meant an expensive brew, which justified its use; most of the other tables ran to glass flagons.
‘There you are, Vincent, beggaring yourself once more.’ The green eyes flicked to Brazier, which elicited the required introduction. ‘Then I bid you welcome, sir, both to the town and my establishment.’
‘The captain here has rented Bonnie from me.’
‘Indeed. You will enjoy her, sir, for she’s a fine and steady mare.’
‘You clearly know the beast.’
She laughed and it was a head-thrown-back peal. ‘Holy Mary, how else would I recover the bills my friend here runs up and cannot pay?’
The response was spontaneous. ‘Then he will not be troubling you tonight, madam; that decanter falls to my tally.’
‘Captain—’
Brazier cut off the protest with a quickly raised hand and a determined look.
‘Sir, you have been kind enough to take me in hand when I am alone in the town and know no one. In gratitude, I could do no less than treat you to something in which you take such pleasure. Might I add that I too am enamoured of your choice?’
Another laugh from the hostess, though this time a chuckle. ‘Sure, it would be odd for a man of your trade, Vincent, to go lookin’ a gift horse in the mouth.’
‘I feel I should protest.’
‘While I am of the opinion, Mr Flaherty, it is time you refilled our goblets.’
‘Would you join us, Saoirse?’ he asked as he went to comply.
‘Kind, Vincent, but no. The place will not run itself.’
‘Will I see you in the morning?’ Flaherty asked.
‘Why would I, when you have gone and given this fine gentleman my favourite horse?’
‘I have others.’
‘Which never ceases to amaze me. When I come to your yard, I half-expect to find the bailiffs have cleared it out.’
The response, for the first time in a while, was made with the kind of flippant tone that was Flaherty’s normal manner. ‘While I know that something always turns up.’ The eyes went to the ceiling. ‘Does not Jesus love me?’
‘They say he loves a sinner,’ was the sardonic answer, ‘so sure, you should be close to his heart. Captain, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance and I hope, while you are in Deal, to see you once more at my tables.’
‘I think it would be safe to assume so, madam.’ She departed to talk to another group of customers with Flaherty’s eyes on her back. ‘A striking woman, Mr Flaherty.’
‘And a kind one, Captain.’
‘I did not sense any kindness in the exchange she had with the fellow you called Hawker?’
‘No.’
Brazier waited for more; he waited in vain, which left him foundering for a moment, the cover for that an invitation and a hand on the neck of the decanter. ‘I’m sure the Playhouse would run to another?’
‘I would be disinclined to impose, sir.’
‘Come, Mr Flaherty, so formal. I will call you Vincent and you shall know me as Edward. We will sit here and exchange pleasant conversation in which you can impart to me why this man Hawker is so to be avoided.’
‘Captain, you say a refill. Knowledge of the tariff might give you pause.’
About to reply that it would not even begin to dent his means, Brazier stopped himself. He was a man to make friends quickly, most sailors being inclined that way through the transience of the profession. He liked Flaherty, but it resurfaced that the man was a horse dealer and he could not put out of his mind entirely the reputation of that trade.
‘I too am a slave to quality in the article of wine, so let us think not of consequence but of pleasure to be taken.’ An arm was raised to summon the servitor. ‘Calon Ségur, I recall you named it.’
It was a jolly pair who downed the second decanter, with Brazier being informed that Hawker acted as a government tax-gatherer, so was unpopular merely for that. Then there were the rumours, though it had to be admitted they were nothing more, of some of his more devilish activities. He was a noted bully, bad enough in his own incarnation but ten times more so, for he could call upon others of a near-to-equal stamp to back him up. If it could not be proved, it was common gossip that to cross him was to risk a one-way journey in a wherry with a length of heavy chain round your feet.
‘He is suspected of murder?’ was Brazier’s startled comment. Flaherty nodded. ‘Is there no law to haul him up?’
‘None, it seems, that would dare. He walks proud and evinces no fear.’
‘Surely the magistrates would not allow him such freedom?’
‘I would not go putting any faith in that quarter,’ Flaherty replied with some vehemence. ‘You don’t get to sit on the bench in this neck of the woods if you’re not connected to the right people, and that tells you certain folk are looked after, Hawker being one.’
‘I cannot be sure he did not recognise me a while back. His gaze rested upon me for a short time. Perhaps not wearing my uniform would throw him, of course.’
‘It should perhaps concern you that he might.’
‘Vincent, understand this. I have faced people seeking to harm me with cannons firing grape and round shot. I have swung a cutlass and fended off knives on an enemy deck and come away with little more than a few scratches. The fist of a bully does not alarm me unduly.’
‘I’d avoid him, as do most if they can.’
‘Your Saoirse does not seem to fear him.’
That at least brought back some good humour. ‘Sadly, she’s not my Saoirse and second, I don’t know that she fears anyone.’
‘I suspected you were attracted to her.’
‘Given you’re not blind, I would be surprised if you did not.’
‘Without reciprocation, I sense?’
The voice changed to one of suppressed anger. ‘I think you wander to areas that the purchase of wine does not entitle you.’
‘Yet it would do no harm for you to know that I may be in similar straits, and being so, I comprehend the state in which you find yourself better than most.’
‘I think that requires you explain.’
‘I hope you will forgive m
e if I do not.’
‘Having denied you the right to pry into the aim of my affections, I would scarce be fair if I did so in yours.’
‘Could I say, Vincent,’ Brazier posited, smiling and picking up the decanter, ‘that sounded utterly and completely unconvincing.’
Flaherty threw back his head and laughed loud enough to turn nearby heads. ‘You have the right of it, for sure.’
Henry Tulkington had decided not to make a point of asking Elisabeth to talk with him; he reasoned with the note gone and it being too late to stop it, the idea of this Brazier visiting Cottington was now inevitable, so haste would disclose his disquiet. He waited until dinner to raise the subject and did so in a normal conversational manner, to have the supposition confirmed.
‘He has asked to call in the morning and stated it was only necessary to respond if it was inconvenient.’
‘And is it?’
‘Henry, we are not overburdened with either callers or duties, are we?’
‘You’re not, Elisabeth; I on the other hand—’
Sarah Lovell nodded as if to confirm the unfinished point, both having it dismissed by Elisabeth with brio. ‘If you would attend less to business and more to pleasure, not least in the article of female company, I’m sure you would be a happier soul.’
Henry was not to be drawn on that subject and he looked crabbed it had been raised, his expression quickly corrected to one of enquiry. ‘Do you have a notion of why Captain Brazier is so keen to call?’
‘Keen?’
‘I sense a degree of haste and so does our dear aunt.’
‘He is close by, we met by accident, he wishes to renew the acquaintance, to which I have no objection. This is a house that could benefit from a few more visitors – social ones, that is.’
The Contraband Shore Page 8
