by Ron Pearse
"Mr Harley, eh. Nobody tells the head of the secret service anything, do they?"
Macky was puzzled: "What do you mean, Dick?"
"It's no longer Mr Harley. Next time you write to him be sure to address him as the Earl of Oxford, else you'll stay in the secret service till you die, old friend."
Having made this last dig at his friend, Richards went out and spoke to Gay who ordered his troop to attention and away they marched. He returned to Macky who asked: "What of Prior?"
In answer Captain Richards’hand went to his pocket but changing his mind, said: “I must keep him in custody, John, until I receive orders to release him. You see, my orders from the Secrety of State speak of the earl of Jersey and nothing of Mathew Prior.”
Macky commented with a note of despair in his voice: “That comes of being too clever.”
“What do you mean, John?” said Richards.
“St John thought it impolitic that a commoner be accorded the status of envoy and substituted a titled gentleman in his place. You are witness to the result.” Macky threw up his hands adding: “It is poor Prior who will suffer.”
Richards pursed his lips reflectively assuring Macky: “I shall at least make his detention as comfortable as possible. In the meantime allow me to use your mail service to send an urgent express to St John in London?” He added:
"We are all on edge here, John. I have imprisoned Prior wrongfully, perhaps, and I'll make it up to him, but I never want such a posting again. I have been wondering of the misdemeanour which brought me here. It's all right for the brigadier. He has a cushy billet in Deal with his wife visiting him and providing all the home comforts. And do you know what?"
Macky relieved he was at liberty humoured his friend: "What, old friend?"
“I got a visit from another brigadier recently. Have you heard of Brigadier Hill?"
"Dick old friend, promotion in the army is no longer a matter of merit. Brigadier Hill is the sister and Brigadier Masham the husband of whom, a bedchamber-woman to her majesty the queen. She wields more power than the captain-general himself."
Macky had already agreed to the captain’s request to send an express to St John in London. At the same time, he decided to warn the captain-general currently investing Bouchain in France; by so doing, he lost his livelihood when St John heard about it.
Chapter 25
On a bright afternoon in early August, 1711, in the Orangeman, a tavern in the London district of Westminster, there was a lot of noise, of merriment, of singing, cheering, laughing, shoting in lieu of talking which was difficult as you could not hear your own voice. The tavern was so full people had spilled out onto the road outside or into the garden where the proprietors had thoughtfully provided wooden tables and benches. Perhaps some of the revellers had elected to quaff their ale or spirit in the open air and a party of four well on their way to inebriation, at least as far as the men were concerned, though the ladies were not far behind, sat at one of the tables. One of their number slapped a coin onto the table issuing a challenge.
"A guinea for a repeat performance, or I'm better off by a guinea." The challenger was brigadier John Hill and that gesture just about saved him from lurching to the floor after he stood up while the man being challenged examined his tankard, upended it whereby a few drops fell out and pointing an uncertain finger at Hill, he riposted:
"And whose pint will it be, not mine, as you can see? It'll be your’n Johnny boy."
"Too right it is, see!" Hill held up his tankard saying: "That were a quart, but you know me, Singeing, where ale's concerned, so get to it."
In answer St John got up unsteadily and holding the corner of the table undid the buttons of his coat slipping it off and it fell picked up by Belle, with an air of resignation. St John looked round for a wall and lurched towards it. Then with a surprising agility St John had placed his hands on the ground and his feet were in the air and planted firmly against the wall. People from neighbouring tables craned their necks for a better view.
Belle, his lady friend, addressed him: "Are you sure you can do this?"
He answered with slurred voice: "Never better. Come on Johnny boy, bring your tankard over."
Hill placed it on the ground with a clonk and St John eyed it. The pupils of his eyes then rolled up looking for Belle and Alice, Jack's sister, then satisfied of his audience, he shifted his weight to his left arm, inviting them both: "Are you watching me, Belle? Are you, Alice?"
Then he picked up the tankard. It was a deft movement. He put it to his lips. A sucking sound was heard as ale from the tankard slurped into his mouth followed by a gulp as he swallowed. Still holding the tankard, a second suck was succeeded by a slurp and a gulp and the third drained the tankard, and St John uttered a gurgle of triumph rolling his eyes up as before. But he had not finished. He told the brigadier: "Pick it up, Johnny boy." He complied and St John bade him: "Up end it!"
Not a drop fell out and Jack shouted: "You've earned your guinea, Singeing." With his admission St John dropped and Jack, in giving the empty tankard to Alice, whispered to her and then spoke to St John:
"Two G's you won't do it a second time. Are you on?"
Alice meantime had disappeared with the empty tankard presumably to get it refilled while St John prepared to return to the wall saying: "Have you so much money, Johnnyboy, that you want to throw it away?"
St John bantered with Belle to follow suit though she countered his invitation with: "What would you think of me sir, with my skirts where my head is? Besides how would I sup the ale?" She had scarcely spoken when Alice returned and placed the tankard down as before and turning to her brother demanded:
"How is it brother that you suddenly have guineas? Before Mr St John proceeds, is it not fair we see the colour of your money?"
"He will get his two guineas, if he wins." Hill protested whereupon Alice kicked the tankard over so the contents spilled onto the grass. St John's nose wrinkled as the smell of the pungent liquid assailed his nostrils. It was water, Alice's, he thought and felt his breeches tighten flipping back onto the ground. As he did so he overbalanced and falling backwards laughed merrily seeking Alice's eyes and as they met, he knew he was in love. Getting back on his feet, he addressed his companion:
"It is time I was back in Whitehall, Belle."
"No, no, not just yet. Just when we were starting to have some fun." Belle complained and St John said of a sudden: "Tell you what!"
He picked up the guinea from the table just won from Jack and returned it to him with the words: "Entertain my Belle for me, Johnnyboy."
Alice turned to her brother: "I must get back to the Palace, Jack."
"Allow me to escort you, Mistress Alice. My cab is just around the corner."
She did not answer but went across to Belle speaking in a low voice to her as the two men busied themselves in a playful boxing session when Alice turned round and said: "We shall be back soon." St John looked after them with a lascivious look not unnoticed by the brigadier. He said: "You've taken a fancy to my Alice, I can see."
St John, not responding, said to Hill as the two ladies disappeared: "You are at a loose end now after that Quebec disaster, eh."
Hill looked as if hit by a cold shower of rain. He said: "I need a job, Singeing." St John appeared distracted still and was only half-listening prompting Hill to look sharply at the man still with his shirt on display having removed his coat earlier. Hill looked at his lace cuffs, the lace edging his shirt finished at the neck with smart burgundy cravat with a jewelled pin finishing the ensemble. Hill said: We could do another deal."
St John was immediately alert: "What sort of deal?"
Hill replied directly: "I heard a soldier was needed to dismantle the Dunquerque fortifications. Aren't I the man for the job, honest jack Hill?"
St John smiled back: "I had not given it much thought. There should be no problem finding someone with all these returning soldiers."
Hill put his proposition bluntly: "I'll take Bell
e off your hands and give Alice my blessing. What about it!"
St John hardly considered before he answered: "Agreed." Then overcome with embarrassment and talking to overcome it, he said: "Did you read the report in the Times about Quebec?" He knew Hill had been at sea so taking his coat slung across the table he fished in a pocket withdrawing a folded sheet and was about to hand it to Hill who waved it away saying:
"Read it, Singeing. I’m seeing double."
St John read it aloud: "Leaving Boston on the 30th July, the expedition entered the St Lawrence river on the 21st of August when it began to blow hard so it was decided to heave-to until the wind dropped which it did towards evening and the admiral decided to proceed. Two hours later a thick fog blown in by an easterly enveloped the fleet though the decision was taken with the pilot's advice to lie-to for the night. However in the early hours of the morning, several of the transports began to drag their anchors and drift on to the north shore. Thus occurred the events which the pilots had planned to avert and nothing could prevent as ships began drifting onto the rocks and tiny islands just off the north shore. The commanding officer, rear-admiral Hovendon Walker came up upon the deck of his flagship, the Cumberland and watched helplessly as eight of his transports were wrecked.
At a council of war some days later when all further hope of rescue had been abandoned, a tally was taken of the losses. Some nine hundred men had perished and their ships had become a total wreck, but most significant was the fact that one of the ships lost had been the main victualling transport so that the expedition had sufficient provisions for just ten weeks. Returning to Boston would have delayed the project by six weeks. Furthermore the Quebec garrison was now already alerted to the intention of the expedition. In the circumstances the decision was made to return to St Helens, England on account of their low food supplies."
When St John had finished reading, he put the paper down and said nothing more. Neither did Hill who was startled by Alice who said abruptly to her brother: "Where were you all this time, Jack?"
He did not look at her or at any of them. He stared at the table, finding an interest in the scratched initials of some doodler, then realising the initials were his, JH, and he pointed this out to everyone like a small boy who had suddenly found a nest filled with eggs, one of his pursuits as a child, but Alice was not that easily diverted and repeated the question.
Jack fiddled with his tankard before finally admitting that he had been dead drunk and had slept through the whole disaster on the flag ship.
St John clicked his teeth and simply said: "Bad luck!" Then he turned his attention to Alice repeating his offer of a lift.
While the men had been talking business and their future relationships with the two ladies, the two ladies, Alice and Belle, had decided their course of future action. Belle was to return to the palace in her stead and pass on Alice's message to the Household Comptroller and Alice was, in her turn, to ask Mr St John if he would kindly show her around his office in Whitehall. So with the whole party in general agreement, Brigadier Hill took Alice back to the palace while St John was happy to see Mistress Alice safely esconced in his cabriolet for the very pleasant journey to Whitehall and his offices of Secretary of State.
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St John turned his cabriolet towards Whitehall and whereas he might have applied the whip to be there as quickly as possible he was content that his team settled down to a gentle trot. He was not a little puzzled comparing his conversation with Brigadier Hill and the way things had turned out. He thought he would offset her likely disappointment at the sight of his offices by warning her in advance:
"I am afraid you will find a great difference between my office and St James Palace. For a start the building was formerly a church and has been adapted to the needs of parliament. You will see partitions where offices have been separated off."
Alice was going over her words with Belle and wondering how the girl would get on. She looked at her companion intent on the road and wondering about the man beneath the wig. She recalled entering the Comptroller's room and seeing the official asleep; his periwig had slipped and the stern faced officer who had lectured her about her duties, was a grey haired old man who looked rather pathetic. She listened to his words and said reassuringly:
"Have no fears on my account, Mr St John. I am well accustomed to appearances not being all they seem to be."
He was silent as he assimilated her words and happy to concern himself with the traffic. She pondered upon her recent appointment as Keeper of the Privy Purse and inwardly laughed over her fears beforehand about the duties but now several months into the position, she realised like most such positions at the Palace there were no duties. The duties attached to the Privy Purse had disappeared as new methods of finance had developed. She recalled that her majesty had paid her a visit thinking to comfort her but who obviously was completely ignorant of such duties. Yet she hoped Belle would be left in peace.
Alice once more turned her attention to her companion. He was worth the risk of displeasing her majesty and her brother seemed to think so too otherwise he would scarcely have already told her to make his better acquaintance. Perhaps St John might help her towards another preferment which was vacant, the Keeper of the Stole, now that the queen had dismissed the Duchess of Marlborough. So she had everything to go for.
St John's next words burst in upon her thoughts: "We can skip Whitehall, if you like. A friend of mine has loaned me his house in Duke Street while he is in France." He stopped, mad with his stupidity, yet Alice scarcely gave his faux-pas a mention, replying:
"You mean Mr Prior, do you not?"
St John stole a quick glance at her from the road and said petulantly:
"If you know, Mistress Hill. How many others are there? It is supposed to be a secret."
Alice mocked him: "Now, Mr St John are you keeping any secrets from the palace? Shame on you!" She shifted on the bench and he felt her proximity as the seat dipped in the middle. As he did not reply, she said: "If ye queen talks about ye peace with your friend Mr Harley, ye earl of Oxford." She was parodying her mistress, the queen, and St John flushed though she carried on: "Besides ye queen consults with my sister. Is it any wonder I should know about Mr Prior and all his doings. We call him Matt."
St John was taken by a chuckle which turned into a laugh then a loud guffaw, and she turned sideways being amused herself as his laughter was infectious though hardly knowing the reason for the mirth. St John explained:
"Oh, Mistress Alice, it is so droll. In the House we meet in corners scarcely daring to whisper lest the secret slip out whereas just a mile away in the palace, the peace is the subject of general gossip. Till now I thought Mr Prior was an unknown."
Alice said defiantly: "In the palace, we call it Matt's Peace. I daresay Mr Prior is better known than many a lord though he deserves to be."
As she said this, St John indicated with his whip, shouting now as the noise of horses’ hooves was deafening. Alice looked in the direction indicated and was disappointed. St John read her thoughts as they were held up by a driver that decided to turn around. He said: "I hope you are not too disappointed. As you see it is far from being a palace which mayhaps is understandable as it was once a church. After the reformation London needed fewer churches. Many of the faith predicted dire consequences yet they were spared by the Great Fire whereas many still consecrated churches were consumed. Is there a message in that from the Good Lord?"
The hold-up over, St John brought the team to a standstill in front of the church and, Alice, somewhat dispirited said: "I see what you mean, sir." No sooner had the cabriolet stopped then a black coated gentleman ran up to St John calling:
"Sir, sir. Praise be you have come at last. I have here an express from Walmer." So saying he thrust a sealed envelope heavily waxed into St John's hands while he called: "Shall you alight, sir? Or would like to read it beforehand? It must be urgent, I think."
&nb
sp; St John ripped open the envelope as he sat in the cab, scanned it and called to the steward: "I must inside. Help the lady down, if you please." St John held the reins as Alice alighted but threw them over the splashback before jumping down himself.
"Boy!" The steward called to an urchin no bigger than eight years of age who on instruction held the bridle while the steward led the way inside. St John showed Alice to his office partitioned off where he showed her to a straight-backed seat promising he would not be long.
Across the passage he went into his steward’s cubicle and said: "It's from Macky, Chalmers. There has been a misunderstanding about Mr Prior and he is being held in Walmer Castle until official identification is forthcoming. I must to Deal, first thing tomorrow. What is your opinion, Chalmers?"
"My speculation about the source was correct, sir. John Macky's seal is unmistakeable, and I speculated my dear sir. I did indeed. Your decision is spot on. I said to myself, Chalmers, I said, what will Mr St John do, and my speculation sir was spot on."
An amused St John said: "Shall I take the cab? What is your opinion, Chalmers?"
"I speculated about this very thing, sir. I said to myself what is the quickest way for Mr St John to reach Walmer."
"And your decision?" asked St John.
"Beauty, sir. She is fast and a stayer. Take some official accredidation with you, sir. You can never know what idiot you will meet, sir."
"Think you they are dunderheads, at Walmer, Chalmers?"
"My suggestion concerned the taverns sir. It is near eighty miles, or I'm a Dutchman."
"We have enough of that breed already, Chalmers. Do not be adding to their number."
Chalmers smiled and simply said: "Eighty miles it is, sir."
"How did it happen, Chalmers?"
