It took Stewart a moment to notice it was there but then as I expected he was quick to complain. “What is this…? Mr Foreign Office, half measures? You are not paying for this wine, my brother is, so fill the glass up.”
“I do apologise” said Wickham still calm and smiling. ”Why don’t you drink that now and I will give you another full glass.” Stewart threw the wine back in one gulp and belligerently passed his glass back for a refill.
I watched Stewart closely. He took another swig of the fresh wine and put the glass down next to his soup. His eyes had been glassy before but now they seemed to lose what little focus they had and he started to sway in his chair with a slightly puzzled look on his face.
“You might want to move his soup” said Wickham quietly “or he will be in it in a moment.” I got up quickly and moved around the table and just got his soup dish and wine glass out of the way when Stewart’s head hit the table with a loud thud.
“Good God” said Castlereagh looking astonished down the table. “Did you hit him?”
“No sir” I replied “he just passed out.”
“Oh I don’t mind if you hit him, it was quick thinking the mood he was in. Well done Flashman.” Evidently Castlereagh still thought I had brained his brother and was happy about it. My host then whispered to his butler and a couple of moments later two of the footmen gathered Stewart’s unconscious form and carried it away.
“Will he be all right?” I asked Wickham quietly.
“Oh he will be fine but he will have a sore head in the morning.” We were interrupted by Pitt trying to involve us in the conversation that they had been having at the other end of the table.
“Tell me Mr Flashman, are you a Catholic?”
“No sir I am not, Church of England, but to be honest I visit church as little as I can.”
“But sir” said Wilberforce squinting at me with his weak eyes “you need to have faith as a beacon to guide your life.”
“Not now William” smiled Pitt. “You can leave your evangelical bible thumping for later. So Flashman, do you have servants, are they Catholic?”
“I have just rented some rooms and I have a housekeeper, I have no idea what religion she is.”
“Would it concern you if she was a Catholic?”
“No, or I would have asked when I took the rooms.”
“Exactly”, cries Pitt triumphantly. “You see things have moved on and Catholicism is less important to people. We have passed the Act of Union creating the British Isles and everyone within its borders must have the same rights for it is a single nation. Catholics in England have the right to vote and so should Catholics in Ireland and they should also be able to serve as members of parliament.”
“You are preaching to the choir” said Castlereagh grimly. “But that is not how the King sees it.”
Pitt took a deep breath before he responded. “If the Irish do not feel included in the Union then with their Catholic majority they could break away and the King would lose that dominion as well as America. We have quelled a rebellion already and invested a fortune in time, money and titles to get this far, we cannot go back now.”
“Yes but the King is convinced that to allow Catholic emancipation he would be breaking his coronation oath to protect Protestantism.”
“But that oath is over a hundred years old, times have changed. Since then laws relaxing restrictions on Catholics have been passed and other restrictions are routinely ignored.”
“The Gordon riots were only twenty years ago, tearing up London and attacking Catholics” interjected Canning.
“Popery was just the excuse, there were political, economic and plain criminal motivations behind those riots too.”
The debate continued like this for much of the evening. Despite looking tired Pitt dominated the conversation with passionate debate, surrounded by friends he trusted who argued their cases with equal vigour. The wine flowed and it turned into a long night. Pitt drank prodigiously of port that had been prescribed years ago to help with his health. He partook of his medicine enthusiastically, downing at least two bottles by himself before the rest of us moved on from claret to port. At one point he got up in mid debate and unbuttoning himself he went behind the screen in the corner of the room where he was in full flow in every sense of the word. With his finger jabbing the air above the screen to make the point that he would resign if the King did not back down and his piss splashing in the chamber pot in front of him he continued to make his case. I had been used to people leaving the room if they wanted to use the jakes but everyone took this as normal.
Castlereagh’s dinner finished around midnight. It had been an illuminating insight into government and introduced me to some of the key men but Wickham had not told me about the new job. When I asked he told me that he would tell me later and it was only as we stepped out of the house that he pulled me to one side out of earshot of the others.
“I understand that you speak Spanish, is that right?”
“Yes my mother was Spanish, she and her Spanish maid taught me.”
“Have you ever been to Spain?” He asked.
“God no. My mother’s people have land there but when she married my father they acted as though she had married a devil and cut her out of their lives entirely.”
“Excellent, I need someone I can trust who can deliver a message to an agent in Spain.”
“What… but I don’t understand I thought you worked at the Foreign Office and aren’t we are war with Spain?”
“Technically I am Under Secretary of State for the Home Department but in practice I run a network of agents across Europe, I am Britain’s spy master which is why your friend Stewart did not know me. I spend much of my time in Switzerland.”
“But surely you have couriers to do that kind of thing?”
“Oh we do, but rather a lot of them have been getting caught recently. Your friend Stewart was right about that, many of the French émigrés are persuaded to spy for France to protect relatives there and now they are getting close to the Spanish community in London too. If I was to ask one of my Spanish agents to visit Spain, there is a good chance word would get out. I need someone I can trust who has no links with the Spanish community here and Castlereagh suggested you.”
“But won’t it be dangerous, I have never been to Spain, I don’t know any of the customs I would stand out like a sore thumb.”
“Oh don’t worry you will only be in Spain for an hour or two at the most. A ship down to Gibraltar, then another boat, Navy probably, to take you up the coast to a small town. You will just need to slip ashore at night and pass a message to an agent and possibly get a despatch in return and then your work is done. You will be well paid for the trip too.” My mind was reeling, I had been expecting some post in a London ministry, it might have been dull work but it was safe. Now I was being offered foreign travel and the chance to mix with spies, albeit briefly. Fool that I was, I believed the assurance that it would not be dangerous. It would be a grand adventure and if Wickham or Castlereagh were to write to my father to say I was going abroad on government business he would find it hard to object. If I were to refuse work that Castlereagh had pushed my way then he may not offer work again.
“Are you sure I will not need to be in Spain for more than a couple of hours” I asked just to be certain.
Wickham laughed. “Don’t worry, it will be straight in and straight out. The agent you are passing the message to is an elderly Catholic priest who has not left the town in years. He will be there, waiting in the church. He is the courier at the Spanish end who will pass the message on.”
“All right, my father wants me to stay in London but if he does not object I will do it.”
“I will send a note to him tomorrow we should have a reply by the end of the week and in the meantime I will arrange another meeting so that we can discuss this further.” Feeling suddenly excited and important that I was to play a part in government affairs, I wished him good night and then looked for s
ome transport home.
Several of the ministers such as Pitt had carriages waiting. I did not but two men with a sedan chair were hovering conveniently to hand and I climbed aboard and gave them the address. At night it was dangerous to go alone in any part of the city and with my finest clothes and shoes I did not want to walk through the filth on the streets. I was also partly drunk after all the wine that night but not enough to stop my mind buzzing about the chance to travel abroad and start a government career. They got me to my rooms quickly but as I paid them I noticed a strange thing. One of the men, the boss of the outfit by his attitude, was wearing an exceptionally good pair of shoes, albeit covered in mud. Normally such fellows wore the roughest boots. When I commented on his footwear he looked surprised and then explained that he won the shoes in a wager on a cockfight. This did not really explain why he was ruining them with his sedan chair work but I did not dwell more on it and went to bed.
~~~~~~
Chapter 6
Three days later I received a note from Wickham asking if we could meet in a coffee shop in Jermyn Street. He was sitting at a table in the corner with another figure hidden behind a newspaper. As I got closer I saw that the other person was a lady in riding clothes. Society women were rarely seen in coffee shops which were a male domain and with their hooped skirts they would normally struggle to get through the throng. But this lady did not look English or part of the society set. She wore a slim riding skirt and jacket in brown over a quite low cut white bodice and a jaunty hat with a feather in it.
Wickham looked up at my approach and stood to shake hands and introduce his companion as Consuela Martinez.
She turned to me and said in Spanish “It is a pleasure to meet you senor Flashman, I understand that you are new to London. What would you say are the finer points of the city?”
Well looking at her in her rig, she was showing an impressive amount of cleavage, two attractive points sprang to mind immediately but I gathered my memory of Spanish to reply promptly that “while the cathedrals and mansions were impressive, nothing could compare to the beauty of the ladies you meet in coffee shops.”
She laughed at the complement but gave me a shrewd and calculating look. Then she turned to Wickham and said in English “His Spanish is really very good, almost like a Spaniard.”
“Excellent” says Wickham. “Well you have passed the Spanish language test and I have heard this morning from your father that he is happy for you to work for the diplomatic service. I am glad to welcome you aboard.”
“What is the mission about?” I asked.
“Well we have had the Spanish fleet blockaded in Cadiz for months now. But it is draining on the fleet to keep a squadron there on blockade duty and despite making some feints to draw them out for battle they have stayed in port. We want to destroy them before they can join up with the French. We have an agent in Cadiz and we think we can use him to get the fleet to sail.”
“But how?”
Wickham glanced briefly to Consuela who was paying close attention. “I will give you the full details when you are ready to sail.” He pulled a sealed paper out of his pocket. “But in the meantime… what is it?”
I had just noticed a man sitting two tables away behind Consuela. Apparently engrossed in coffee and a newspaper he looked exactly like the sedan chair driver of the other night. This time of course he was expensively dressed and he was not sporting a moustache as he had been before, but I was sure it was the same man. I had only given him a puzzled glance but Wickham had noticed my momentary distraction.
“Oh nothing, just thought I recognised someone but it can’t be.”
“Thomas in my line of work we don’t take co-incidences lightly. Who is it and where have you seen him before?”
“He looks like the sedan chair driver that took me home from Castlereagh’s after I had finished talking to you the other night. He does not have a moustache now as he did then. But now I think about it I recall that the driver was wearing much better shoes than the average sedan driver, which I thought was strange.”
“So he could have been watching me that night and decided to follow you as we had been talking. But how the devil would he know we were meeting here?” Wickham pretended to brush some dandruff from his shoulder to steal a glance at the stranger, who did not notice. Unfortunately Consuela was less subtle, scraping her chair when she looked round and the stranger looked up. Leaving some coins on the table, he folded his paper and started to leave.
Wickham turned to Consuela. “My dear, would you do me a service and trail our friend to see where he goes.”
“It will be a pleasure” she said with a grim smile. With a nod to me she sprang lightly to her feet and set off after the man who was now heading out into the street. I felt sorry for the stranger if he turned and challenged her. She exuded a sense of danger and I would have bet a guinea that amongst the folds of her dress was a razor sharp stiletto that she could expertly wield to defend herself.
I asked “is Consuela one of your agents?”
“Oh yes, a recent recruit but a very capable one. She was in Spain recently and the information she brought back was very valuable. Now here on this paper are details of the carriage to Southampton and the ship you will be taking to Gibraltar. I will meet you before you get on the carriage and give you some letters for our agent and details of where to find him.” He started to count off tasks on his fingers. “I will also give you a letter signed by Pitt confirming that you are a diplomatic courier and asking all British subjects to assist you in your efforts to deliver your message. That should help you get a Navy ship in Gibraltar. I know the Governor there well and he will certainly assist you. We will also give you some gold to overcome any obstacles you might meet along the way. Don’t worry about receipts, we are much more relaxed about that in our line of work than the Treasury if you get my meaning. What you don’t spend you can keep. Now I must get going, I wish you good day.” With a cheery wave Wickham was out of the door and my career as a courier began.
When I returned to my rooms I found an invitation from Stewart. He had forgiven me for knocking him out as that is what his brother had told him had happened. He was embarrassed about how he had behaved at the dinner and grateful I had stopped things getting worse. Castlereagh had reserved a box at the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens that evening for some of the new Irish peers to keep them onside during the continuing difficulties with the King and I was also invited. Given that this was the pleasure gardens I was expected to bring female company and it was the kind of place men brought their mistresses rather than their wives. I knew just who to invite.
Jasmine was delighted to come although it cost me a new dress for her. We hired a carriage and crossed London Bridge and passed through the gates of the gardens into a magical world. With a two shilling entrance fee the rough sort were excluded and everything was designed to delight. An orchestra played in the centre of the gardens while couples promenaded around the beautifully kept flower beds or lingered among the many alcoves and deep recesses in the large hedgerow walks. These walks, particularly at the masked balls they held in the gardens, were notorious as places of wild debauchery. We decided to leave that sort of thing for later and went up to the supper box hired by Castlereagh. There were nearly a hundred of these boxes spread across the park and Castlereagh had booked a large one holding a dozen people. It was like a room on stilts, with a balcony facing the orchestra and stage in the centre of the park. You could see over the crowds to watch the entertainment and the fireworks that followed and enjoy the lanterns that were lit as darkness fell and in the meantime a supper would be served in the box. That night the food was good, the wine excellent and the orchestra played popular show tunes with various singers. I had a beautiful girl in my arms and as the lanterns started to shine through the darkness it seemed to be a magical night. The only thing ruining the romantic mood was the presence of ten very drunk Irishmen and so we decided to take a stroll.
I had no doubt that we w
ould end up in one of those dark secluded hedgerows but initially we walked along the better lit flower gardens and across the intricately laid lawns. Many other couples were doing the same although I noticed a rough looking sort on his own with a scarred face. He stuck in my memory because he looked so out of place. The entry fee normally put his type off but if they came they did so as a couple. This villainous looking cove was the only man that I saw walking about on his own. More worryingly wherever we went in the gardens when I looked around I could see him loitering in the shadows. We went to the North end and then the South, he was there both times. Then we took a turn around the orchestra and weaved between the couples picnicking on the ground and he was there again and this time I noticed that there was also a very large accomplice also on his own behind him.
In hindsight the sensible thing to do would have been to go back up to the supper box but I thought the maze of thick hedges would be the ideal place to lose him. Then when we were sure he had gone I could get to grips with Jasmine. Of course she thought I was making up the scarred man just to get her into the hedges but followed on willingly. We took several twists and turns interrupting a few couples along the way until we got to the end of a straight corridor of hedge and stood in the dark corner at the end to see if we were being followed. Five minutes passed and then scarface appeared at the end of the row clearly looking for somebody. When he saw us he started off in our direction. We did not delay but moved quickly around the nearest corner and tried to shake him off again with more twists and turns. Once we caught a glimpse of the fat accomplice too but he did not see us. Now Jasmine was getting worried as she had seen that the scarred man really was following us but I was sure that after a dozen turns and dodging around various other couples he would not get us this time. Again I found another long corridor of hedge to watch from and checked that we had another gap in the hedge as an escape route. Five minutes passed and then ten. The fireworks had started now and rockets were swooshing into the sky and exploding with loud bangs that caused ladies to scream and turned night briefly into day in their flash. There was the crackle of other fireworks burning on frames nearby and smoke smelling of rotten eggs began to drift through the hedges. We would be even harder to find in this smoke. I began to relax and was just having a quick fondle of Jasmine and thinking of disappearing into an alcove when I felt her stiffen as she looked over my shoulder. I turned around and sure enough scarface had found us again. I grabbed Jasmine and ran down our escape route. The problem in planning an escape route in a maze is that it can sometimes finish in what could prophetically be called a dead end and that is what happened in this case. I whirled around looking for another way out and found none. I looked for a gap between the hedge plants but they were too tightly planted and there were no gaps big enough under the foliage either. Jasmine screamed as scarface came round the final corner to find us again, but with the fireworks continuing no one would take any notice. He stopped and starred at us for a moment and then moved slowly forward. I saw something metal gleam in his right hand. I had no weapon and I was just about to suggest that we both try to make a run for it as he could only catch one of us when the huge accomplice also walked round the corner and started walking quickly towards us without making a sound.
Flashman and the Seawolf Page 5
