A Stormy Peace

by David McDine

  Anson looked perplexed. ‘You’re beginning to lose me.’

  But Armstrong ploughed on. ‘Batsmen can be changed at any time by the team that’s in — and spectators can stand anywhere they like, but only two are allowed beside each umpire.

  His friend’s quizzical look turned into one of complete bewilderment.

  ‘The correct rig is important. All players must wear white shirts, trousers and boots, and the batsmen wear top hats at the crease — as does the wicket keeper. Oh, and one other thing...’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘The overall rules clearly state that local rules will also apply...’

  *

  Anson came across Cassandra and Elizabeth strolling in the gardens and found them animatedly discussing the forthcoming match.

  Cassandra was insisting: ‘There’s no doubt in my mind, as it doesn’t involve players grappling with one another, as it were, I firmly believe ladies should be allowed to play.’

  Elizabeth grimaced. ‘Oh no, that’s out of the question. Some of the men are most uncouth. It would not be ladylike to indulge in such a sport.’

  ‘But ladies have played before. Oliver, don’t you agree we should be allowed to play against the yeomanry?’

  He sensed he was on dangerous ground here and bought time with a diversion. ‘Well, at least one man believes you should play. I read that the Duke of Dorset said, “What is human life but a game of cricket? And if so, why should not the ladies play it as well as we?”’

  ‘There you are,’ Cassandra announced triumphantly. ‘So we should be allowed to play, shouldn’t we?’

  Anson laughed. ‘From what I hear of our grand neighbour over at Knole, the Duke could easily drum up a cricket team from among his mistresses!’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really, and I reckon he’d be happy to! Apparently, his twin passions are l’amour and playing cricket.’

  Anson had heard of the Duke’s prowess both on the cricket field and among the fair sex, and that when he went to Paris as an ambassador-extraordinary to the court of France before The Terror he had promoted cricket among British expatriates and the French with limited success.

  The Times had reported in racially prejudicial terms on a match played in the Champs-Elysees: ‘His Grace of Dorset was, as usual, the most distinguished for skill and activity. The French, however, cannot imitate us in such vigorous exertions of the body so that we seldom see them enter the lists.’

  Cassandra insisted: ‘So you agree that we should play?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid I don’t. If you were to play in the Sea Fencible team then Charlotte Brax, now Chitterling, and her sisters would no doubt play for the yeomanry. How would you like that?’

  24

  Travel Plans

  Midway through dinner, Josiah Parkin tapped his glass and announced: ‘Oliver and I have been closeted in recent weeks discussing the possibility of taking advantage of the peace...’

  All eyes were on him as he confirmed the worst-kept secret. ‘... by going on tour to enjoy the sights and delights of Paris. And you are all cordially invited!’

  Cassandra and Elizabeth smiled knowingly. Of course, they had long known all about it. So many little clues had been easy for them to interpret.

  Only Armstrong was taken by surprise, but his reaction was one of delight and the secret smile he exchanged with Elizabeth spoke volumes.

  Over a decanter of after-dinner port, Parkin, Armstrong and Anson considered their mode of travel.

  Anson maintained: ‘There is but one way to cross the Channel, so all that needs to be decided is whether we go by packet boat or some other vessel.’

  But Armstrong protested playfully: ‘No, that’s where you are wrong, mon vieux. Now that peace reigns, there’s a Frenchman, an engineer by the name of Albert Mathieu who’s advocating the digging of a tunnel under the sea.’

  ‘A Channel tunnel? Ridiculous! Which asylum is he in?’

  Laughing, Armstrong protested: ‘No, no, the man’s not mad. He proposes to dig a tunnel that horse-drawn coaches can use to make the crossing by candlelight.’

  ‘What a crazy idea! It would leak! No, it’s not going to happen any time soon, if ever. It’ll never catch on — and if it did, it wouldn’t be ready in time for us.’

  ‘Fair point, but—’

  ‘But nothing. Why, if ever a tunnel was dug the French wouldn’t have to outwit our navy to invade. They could march through it and attack us without getting their feet wet! We’d no longer be an island.’

  Clearly enjoying the banter, Armstrong countered: ‘Britain is already no longer an island. Remember that Blanchard fellow? He’s made it across the Channel in a balloon, so how long will it be before our enemies catch on and fly over England dropping bombs?’

  Anson was temporarily silenced. He did indeed recall that the French hot air balloon pioneer Jean-Pierre Blanchard and his American backer had made the first successful crossing from Dover back in ’85.

  He thought for a moment. ‘But Blanchard’s crossing almost came to grief, did it not?’

  That’s true. They lost height a few miles short of the French coast and had to jettison everything, clothes and all. But they made it.’

  Parkin, who had listened to the repartee with amusement, could contain himself no longer. ‘Great heavens! I absolutely refuse to show off my naked nether regions to a parcel of grinning Frenchmen! And I’m sure the ladies in our party would be quite horrified at the mere suggestion of such a thing!’

  Armstrong and Anson had a fit of the giggles.

  ‘Good point, well brought out,’ the captain admitted. ‘So it’s back to the drawing board and a sea passage it must be — fully clothed!’

  Packet boats were an attraction — fast, well-crewed with experienced captains. Anson had also done some research on Dover-based commercial vessels and mentioned that several schooners had come down from Harwich to take advantage of the increased passenger demand created by the peace,

  Parkin warned: ‘Sadly we will not be able to take our own conveyance and horses with us, so it will mean hiring when we arrive in Calais. I’ve corresponded with various former banking contacts there and they assure me it can be done. In fact the French are keen for the business, particularly if we pay in gold. We can either hire a carriage to take us all the way, or do it in stages.’

  Nodding in agreement, Anson suggested: ‘I propose that we check into a Calais hotel for a few nights on arrival to give the ladies a chance to recover from the passage and use the time to arrange our onward journey.’

  And he added: ‘Not least it will give Armstrong and I the opportunity to have a surreptitious look around Calais — the fortifications and so on, against the time when war breaks out again.’

  *

  It having been agreed that Cassandra and Elizabeth should be accompanied by a maid, they discussed the relative merits of the Annie and Bessie, the two young girls employed at Ludden Hall, but reached no conclusion.

  Neither really fitted the bill and when the Paris trip was mentioned to them both expressed horror at the prospect of visiting an alien country where, thanks to Dodman’s oft-declared prejudices, they believed the daily diet consisted snails, frogs’ legs and horsemeat, and that foreigners were guillotined in town squares on a weekly basis.

  It was Josiah Parkin who came up with the solution. He announced: ‘Emily, from the village, would be ideal. A sensible woman with all the necessary skills, and capable of looking after any member of the party who falls ill, why, she’d be perfect!’

  Cassandra happily agreed and when the proposal was put to Emily she readily accepted. It would make a change, she said, from administering to the sick and laying out the dead of the parish.

  Anson, when he heard, reddened at the memory of being given bed baths by this angel of mercy —— built like a stevedore — when he was wracked by fever, but he had to admit that she was an excellent choice. No Frenchman would dare to mess with this formidable woman
with her noticeable moustache, work-coarsened hands, and a tongue to match, who had raised five sons and seen off two husbands. Cassandra and his sister would be well shepherded.

  *

  After some further discussion with Parkin, Anson wrote a brief letter to Nathaniel Bell.

  You will recall that when we met in London recently, I spoke about wishing to take a long holiday and that I wanted you to be involved but did not want to say more until I had discussed it with friends. Well, they are equally enthusiastic about the idea and we are planning to be off to France next month.

  The peace gives us a wonderful opportunity to visit and sample the delights of Paris. Our intention is to hire a carriage and horses in Calais and make our way to the capital at a leisurely pace (a far cry from your mail coach speed!) stopping at wayside inns overnight.

  After many years of war between us and the French we cannot be sure what sort of a reception we will get on the journey and I have convinced my friends that we need a reliable and experienced man, used to handling all aspects of the security of coach, passengers and belongings, to accompany us — in short: you!

  I should tell you that the party includes my superior officer in the Sea Fencibles, Captain Armstrong, my particular friend Mister Josiah Parkin, a retired banker and avid antiquarian, his niece Cassandra, my sister Elizabeth and a ladies’ maid.

  I very much hope this invitation appeals to you and that you will be able to secure, say, two months’ leave of absence from the Royal Mail. My friends and I will better than match your current wages and we will foot the bill for all accommodation, messing etc.

  Please send word via the mail to me at Ludden Hall, Ludden, near Faversham, to let me know one way or another and if affirmative Mister Parkin will include you in his request for passports for the whole party. I will then notify you when to join us here.

  We will travel in civilian clothes and, if you come, you will need to bring the necessary tools of your trade (but not your ‘yard of tin’!). Kindly acquire what you think will be needed for the security of the party and I will reimburse you on arrival.

  Yours ever

  Oliver Anson

  25

  Visit from a ‘Faceless One’

  Anson was in the summerhouse with Cassandra when Dodman appeared. ‘Gent calling himself Colonel something-or-other is asking for you, sir.’

  ‘Colonel something-or-other?’ Anson was puzzled. ‘Ah, could it be Colonel Redfearn?’

  ‘That’s the one, sir.’

  ‘Kindly bring him here. Cassandra, I suspect the colonel has come on confidential business, so...’

  ‘I’ll make myself scarce — and perhaps send some tea?’

  ‘Delightful!’

  She disappeared and a tall gentleman with a military bearing but in plain clothes hove to on the verandah.

  ‘Colonel Redfearn! How very good to see you. The last time was at Dover Castle, was it not?’

  ‘Correct, for a briefing before your Boulogne mission.’

  Anson well recalled visiting the castle, known as the Key to England, where ‘faceless ones’ like the colonel who master-minded the gathering of intelligence on the invasion coast were based.

  ‘What brings you here, sir?’

  ‘I gather from Captain Wallis that you have called on him at the Admiralty.’

  ‘Correct, sir, I went, cap in hand as usual to get him to read my fortune. I thought he would tell me I was to go on half pay on account of the Sea Fencibles being disbanded, but he indicated that you might have some employment for me.’

  ‘Yes, he tells me you are planning to go to Paris.’

  ‘That’s so, with my particular friend Mister Josiah Parkin, who lives here at Ludden Hall. He’s a retired banker and a keen antiquarian whose motivation is most likely to bring back Bonaparte for dissection and stuffing!’

  ‘Redfearn laughed. It would do the man — and the rest of the world — a lot of good! Look Anson, your mission to Boulogne was most successful—’

  ‘I’d hardly say that, sir, since the information about the French ships being chained together didn’t reach Nelson and as a result he failed to cut them out.’

  Redfearn snorted: ‘True, but that was due entirely to that idiot Hoare who stupidly withheld the information for his own misguided reasons.’

  ‘I wish now that I’d not stuck to the chain of command,’ Anson admitted ruefully.

  ‘No blame whatsoever is attached to you. Anyway, Hoare’s paying the price now, exiled in the Isles of Scilly with all the time in the world to reflect on his fall from grace.’

  ‘I suppose so, but men died for nothing.’

  ‘Not for the first time, Anson. At any rate, that’s all water under the bridge. Whatever the outcome, you and Hurel carried out your mission damned well and if it hadn’t been for Hoare, why, Nelson’s attack on Boulogne might have been spectacularly successful.’

  ‘It’s kind of you to say so, sir.’

  ‘Look, what with your escape from France after the St Valery affair and the Boulogne recce, well, you’ve won yourself quite a reputation for tip-toeing around northern France.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘When Home Popham and I arranged for you to be posted to the Sea Fencibles, we envisaged you being suitable for the odd clandestine mission over the other side — and you were made aware of that?’

  Anson thought for a moment and remembered that the oddly-named commodore had used the self-same expression about being well fitted for tip-toeing around France when he was first appointed to command the Seagate detachment. Home Popham had told him he would be expected to do ‘some sniffing around’ on the other side of the Channel for intelligence, assisting French royalists and the like — and he had certainly done just that at the time of Nelson’s bombardment of Boulogne.

  ‘Fully aware, sir, but—’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘Well, sir, I thought, what with the peace and all—’

  The colonel laughed. ‘Armed truce, you mean, Anson. The French won’t be downing tools just because some politicos have signed a piece of paper. No, although our own government is already rushing to run down the fleet and disband large chunks of the army we must make sure we don’t drop our guard — at least as far as intelligence is concerned.’

  They were interrupted by the arrival of Bessie the maid carrying a tray with tea and cake. Redfearn helped himself to a slice and chortled. ‘You naval fellows certainly know how to live when ashore, Anson. Makes up for all that salt beef and weevil-riddled biscuits, I suppose.’

  Laughing, Anson protested. ‘That’s all landsmen’s folklore I’m afraid, colonel. Actually we eat pretty well at sea, except on a long voyage when the only fresh meat is rat or seagull!’

  Redfearn raised his eyebrows. ‘Disgusting! Anyway, back to business. When the whole thing kicks off again as it surely will, we must ensure that we have a pretty good idea of what the French are up to, particularly in the Channel ports, and that’s where you come in.’

  ‘But I have no status now that the Sea Fencibles have been stood down.’

  ‘You’re still a sea officer, and if you agree to carry out the task I have in mind you will stay on full pay’

  ‘And after that?’

  ‘You can be certain that the fencibles will be cranked up again the moment the peace breaks down and you will no doubt be required to re-form your detachment.’

  Anson’s disappointment was self-evident. ‘I had hoped that when that happens I will have earned a sea appointment, sir.’

  ‘Sadly, no. You’re too damned good at what you do ashore to be wasted at sea. Mark my words, Anson, the French are even now making plans for an invasion via the Kent coast.’ He tapped his nose. ‘Believe me, I know, I have seen copies of some of their latest planning documents.’

  It was Anson’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

  ‘Yes, we have our sources. Before I leave, we’ll take a look at my map of the Pas de Calais coast and I’ll tell you exac
tly what I need to know.’

  He fumbled in the satchel he was carrying and fished out the map which he proceeded to unfold, announcing: ‘By the by, there’s someone I’d like you to include in your party.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes, an imposition I know, but this fellow is known to you.’

  Anson was there already. ‘Hurel?’

  Redfearn beamed. ‘Yes, the French royalist who went on that recce of Boulogne with you! Well, he’s still alive and well after a long spell of taking the waters at Tunbridge Wells with his émigré friends.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear that, sir. He can be extremely annoying, especially around females, but he’s a good man.’

  ‘Well, he’s willing, no eager, to return to France and has volunteered to gather what you might call political intelligence from his royalist contacts who are in the know. So between you we should get a fair picture of what’s going on over there.’

  Anson looked doubtful. ‘But won’t he be a marked man, after Boulogne and all? I know to my cost that he’s not very good at keeping a low profile.’

  ‘He managed well enough while serving in the republican navy and as a prisoner in the hulks.’

  ‘But after Boulogne the French intelligence people must have marked his card.’

  ‘Nevertheless, he’s happy to go back, ecstatic at the prospect in fact. So will you take him?’

  ‘Well, sir, I must ask my companions.’

  ‘If it’s a question of paying his way, that’s not a problem. I have access to certain funds and will advance you both a goodly sum to cover all your expenses.’

  Anson thought for a moment. This was good news. He had enough left over from his prize money to pay his share of the Paris expedition, but a windfall like this would mean he would not have to concern himself about his bank balance and, more importantly, he would not be a financial burden on Josiah Parkin.

  Redfearn leaned forward. ‘One thing. Tell your friends that Hurel is merely going to see what’s happened to his family home.’