Dying Trade

by David Donachie

  ‘Rest assured he did a neat job, which did surprise me. From what I could see his hand was none too steady.’

  ‘Have you had a look round?’ asked Harry, sure that his servant would have done so.

  Pender nodded. ‘And I’ve had a good talk with Carey Sutton.’

  ‘I seem to be the only one without a friend here already,’ said James. Pender looked curious. ‘My brother has found one of his old shipmates here.’

  ‘A man called Crosby,’ said Harry.

  ‘I met him. Little fellow with a bent nose. You have him to thank for this.’ He indicated the breakfast. ‘He started asking about you, while I was talking to Carey.’

  Harry stiffened slightly, but his servant just favoured him with a slight smile. ‘From what Carey let slip, I don’t think that we’ve got many secrets to worry about.’

  ‘Is Sutton a friend?’

  ‘Not close. But we’ve known each other, on an’ off, for years. Let’s say we’ve done each other the odd good turn, without ever needing to do each other a bad one. He knows me well enough to be sure that I won’t split on him, or his mates.’ Pender pointed to his bandaged head. ‘I asked him about this, but he didn’t have a clue who it might be.’

  ‘How many Swiftsures did they bring in last night?’

  ‘Quite a few, though Carey wouldn’t say exact. Funny thing, Crosby had a bit of a go at Sutton, asking him what the hell they were doin’ out lookin’ for hands, when they’ve got more’n enough already.’

  ‘Then I’m damned if I know where they all are,’ said Harry.

  ‘An’ then he starts on about Broadbridge goin’ on a cruise. He and Sutton were yelling at each other at the finish.’

  ‘Sutton sailed with him?’

  ‘He did that, and a right bloody mess it was by all accounts. He didn’t get very far, and he came back empty-handed.’

  ‘He told us he wasn’t really trying. It was more a case of working up his crew.’

  ‘Not accordin’ to Crosby. They was after prizes all right. And since he didn’t make anythin’ he’s stuck for a shilling, I think.’

  ‘That must have been what he meant last night,’ said James. Harry looked at him, trying to recall what his brother was on about. ‘When you hinted he was short of hands, Broadbridge said he had other problems.’

  ‘Anything else?’ asked Harry, taking a refill of coffee from Pender, thinking that Broadbridge had painted a somewhat rosy picture the previous night.

  ‘Chapter and verse. Nothin’ like two blokes arguing to have ’em both let on more’n they should. Broadbridge wants to buy another boat. The one he’s got is near useless for privateerin’. A right slab-sided barky with a rotten hull that leaks at anchor. Even worse at sea when the seams are workin’, which is what made his cruise a waste of time. He wallowed up and down off Marseilles. They didn’t see much, and what they did spot they couldn’t catch. That’s why I reckon he’s hard up. I suppose he’s sunk so much money into buyin’ his share of this place that he’s left himself short for the purchase. And all the while he’s having to pay his hands so they won’t just disappear. Poor bugger’s in a right bind, it seems. Sutton reckons the man who heads the syndicate will bail him out. Crosby had a right laugh at that.’

  ‘Bartholomew?’ asked James.

  ‘That’s the one. Top dog with this bunch. And he and his mates are coining it. If Broadbridge can just get the loan, for which he can put up his share in this place, he can get to sea in something sound and set things to rights.’

  ‘It seems straightforward,’ said James. ‘Especially if the other members of the syndicate have the money to oblige him.’

  ‘It’s down to Bartholomew. For all the syndicate is supposed to vote, it’s usually what he wants that prevails. An’ I had that from the pair of them. It’s about the only thing they agreed on, so it must be right. A nod from him would do. Trouble is, if Broadbridge don’t get that nod, he might go down completely.’

  ‘He could always sell his share in the syndicate.’

  ‘Harry!’ said James.

  ‘Just thinking aloud.’

  James turned back to Pender. ‘You said earlier that Carey let certain things slip about us.’

  ‘He knows we’re well heeled, gold included. He’ll have got that from the deserters they picked up last night.’

  ‘And a ship?’

  ‘One secret tends to follow another.’

  ‘Where’s Sutton now?’

  ‘Gone back aboard the Dido.’

  Apart from the Ludlows, the tap-room was empty, with no trace of the activities that had taken place the night before. The dead rats were gone, and the sand in the rectangular pit was raked clean. The whole place had been scrubbed and the shutters were open, allowing a pleasant warm breeze to waft through the room, taking with it the smell of drink and stale tobacco, as well as the odour of the vinegar used to overcome it.

  They sat at a table eating heartily, consuming quantities of the local sausage and great hunks of bread, and washing the whole lot down with pot upon pot of coffee. The residents of this tavern were obviously not early risers, since no one else appeared. Harry, facing the harbour across the table, had a slightly glazed look, wrapped up in his thoughts.

  James held his hand in front of his mouth and exhaled. ‘We must find some parsley, Harry. The amount of garlic in this sausage is quite remarkable.’

  ‘I confess, James, my mind was on other things.’

  ‘Spare me more of your speculations.’ James waved the remains of his sausage in his brother’s direction. ‘I feel we should call upon Captain Broadbridge to thank him, Harry. After all, he did save our lives.’

  ‘A capital idea, brother.’ Harry used his sausage to point towards the tavern door behind his brother. ‘Though I fear we are too late.’

  James spun round just as Broadbridge came through the door. Harry was already on his feet, still with a sausage and a hunk of bread in his hand. ‘Good morning, Captain Broadbridge. I trust I find you well?’

  ‘Well enough, sir. As well as any man can be on two hours’ sleep.’

  ‘You were out most of the night?’

  ‘I was that, and to little purpose.’ Broadbridge looked about the empty room, seemingly surprised that there was no one about. He called out for a bottle of wine, and as he sat down at their table, Harry caught a whiff of drink on his breath. This wine would not be his first of the day.

  ‘We’ve not had a proper chance to thank you,’ said James. ‘And because of your generosity we were afforded a chance to get more sleep than you.’

  Harry looked at his brother with something less than humour, longing to tell James that he was speaking for himself. Again Broadbridge looked around, as though someone he wanted to see must be there.

  ‘We will, of course, find other accommodation today, Captain, but if we can leave our small chest in your rooms, I’d be much obliged.’

  Broadbridge just nodded. His mind was elsewhere. When the door at the back of the tavern opened, he looked up keenly, but his face registered disappointment at what he saw, for it was only one of the serving girls carrying a bucket and mop.

  ‘You have come ashore for a purpose?’ asked James, seeing both the look and the disappointment.

  ‘I have that. I arranged to meet Bartholomew here at ten of the clock. By my reckoning he’s late.’

  James pulled out his watch. ‘Not by much, Captain, a mere five minutes, if this is correct.’

  The man’s flat face took on a slightly dissatisfied look. ‘I am told you met last night. Quite taken with you he was, Mr Ludlow, by all accounts, though he was no surer of your purpose here than I am.’

  Harry was sick of all this pretense, quite putting his role in the subterfuge aside. ‘I doubt that there’s much about us that either you or Captain Bartholomew don’t know. Thanks to certain people our every intention was the talk of the port.’

  The older man’s face betrayed just a hint of impatience. ‘Yet you chose not
to let on.’

  James cut in. ‘Captain Broadbridge. You saved our lives last night and if anyone was to be privy to our plans it would be you. But as yet they are mere speculation.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘So you are not looking for a ship?’

  ‘It is possible that we are,’ said James.

  Broadbridge sat forward, with his elbows on the table, adopting a more aggressive pose. ‘Those I spoke to seemed pretty sure. And they was just as sure that you had the means to do so.’

  It was Harry’s turn to speak. ‘If you are a sailor, sir, I need hardly tell you of the problems associated with gossip.’

  ‘So you’re not carrying gold?’

  ‘Yes. But I doubt it is in the quantity that you have come to believe.’

  ‘Believe.’ He sat back, a slightly mocking smile on his lips. ‘I do believe that it’s been suggested that you sail from here. In fact, there was a hint that I turn in my share so that you could purchase it.’

  Harry looked right into Broadbridge’s pale blue eyes, wondering how something that had been the merest suggestion had gained sufficient currency to cause the older man a problem. True, he had remarked on it himself, but that was done in privacy. There was no malice in Broadbridge’s eyes, more a look of enquiry, with a hint of disappointment at their prevarication. ‘The truth, Captain Broadbridge …’

  ‘Would be appreciated, sir.’

  Harry bridled at this. Yet he held his anger in check, for he had the feeling that the man opposite wouldn’t have mentioned it if someone had not already assured him that there was substance in his suspicions.

  ‘My brother spoke the truth. Nothing is decided. I am in the market for a ship, but we only landed here on our way to Leghorn. Bartholomew suggested last night that we might sail from here.’

  Broadbridge cut in, his voice angry. ‘So it was him.’

  ‘To call it a suggestion is to give it an importance it scarcely warrants,’ said James. Broadbridge raised an eyebrow in disbelief. ‘Mind, it would be foolish to pretend that the idea had not occurred to my brother. After all, it seems that the captains here are doing well, which we have been informed is not the case further down the coast. But if someone has implied that we have sought to dislodge you, sir, then they are lying, for that was never mentioned.’

  Harry had not taken his eyes off Broadbridge since he’d sat down, and Bartholomew’s question about the man came to mind. Taken with what he’d observed last night, what he saw before him now did not overly impress him. It had nothing to do with liking the man. He was a personable enough fellow, with a cheerful manner and a kindly disposition being his abiding traits, who had come to their rescue, and no doubt saved their lives. But he lacked authority. It was in his eyes and his demeanour. He had little control over his men, and none whatever over the likes of Ma Thomas.

  Harry knew, more than most, that if there was one thing needed on the quarterdeck of a ship, especially a privateer, it was that quality of leadership that would cause men to obey you unquestioningly. It stemmed from ability. And ability came from experience. Broadbridge may have hidden depths, but if he did they were well obscured from Harry Ludlow, as near to a trained eye as it was possible to get. Harry had the impression that Broadbridge was no true blue-water sailor, and certainly not the stuff of the successful privateer. And for that reason, in spite of what they owed, he decided to go on the offensive.

  ‘I believe you too are in the market for a ship.’

  ‘Who told you that?’

  Harry fixed him with a glacial stare. ‘It would be as well to remember that we are all the object of loose tongues. If you care to tell me that it is untrue, Captain Broadbridge, then I shall most certainly take your word for it. I would esteem it a kindness if you would extend the same courtesy to my brother and me.’

  Harry decided that a lie would benefit all concerned. ‘No one mentioned you last night except me, and that was only to inform Captain Bartholomew that we were the recipients of both your good timing, and your most generous hospitality. If he has taken it upon himself to imply something else …’

  ‘It wasn’t Bartholomew.’

  ‘Then whoever it was, I urge you to put it out of your mind, for I would say you have been practised upon.’

  The older man’s face cleared, and he leant forward again, relaxed this time, and took a great swig from his tankard. ‘I owe you an apology, sir. I’m venting my spleen in the wrong place.’

  ‘Would it be beyond the bounds of good manners to ask where it should be directed?’ asked James.

  ‘Bartholomew and I had words last night, and I dare say what I had to say did not endear me to him. I find myself strapped for funds. The Dido is a good enough vessel, but not a proper one for what needs doin’, so I can see how the other captains would be reluctant to let me cruise alongside them.’

  ‘They sail together?’ asked Harry, mildly surprised.

  Broadbridge nodded impatiently, as though the answer to Harry’s question was obvious. Yet privateers almost invariably cruised alone. The very nature of the men who did such work mitigated against combination.

  The older man frowned. ‘All my monies are tied up in this place. Tell the truth I’m having trouble in feeding the hands. I must get to sea, and in the right kind of vessel. One voyage will set me to rights.’

  To Harry this was just another manifestation of his lack of ability. His words echoed those of the previous night.

  ‘You seem very sure, Captain Broadbridge. But let me tell you there is nothing certain at sea. Success requires a degree of luck. It would be folly to pin all your hopes on one voyage.’

  Broadbridge smiled, and tapped the side of his flat nose with a finger, as if to say, ‘that’s all you know.’ But if he had good grounds for confidence, he was not about to share them.

  James gave Harry a quick look before speaking. ‘If you are so strapped for funds, Captain Broadbridge, my brother and I would esteem it, as no more than your due, to offer you some assistance.’

  ‘Why that is most kind of you, Mr Ludlow. And I won’t pretend, hearing what I did, that approachin’ you for some help did not come to mind. Why, rumour had it you was carrying the proceeds of a Spanish plate fleet.’

  ‘Sailors love to gild the lily,’ said Harry.

  ‘They do that. I knew that the tale had grown in the telling, but when I returned here last night, I had half a mind to call.’

  James gave Harry another look before speaking, and was pleased to see his brother respond with a nod. ‘I hope that you will not take it as a blow to your pride if I say that the offer still stands.’

  ‘It would never do, Mr Ludlow.’

  ‘Why ever not?’

  ‘It would be like presenting a bill for helping you.’

  ‘I can think of many less deserving reasons, sir. When you came to our rescue last night, what prompted you to do so?’

  ‘I heard you shouting, in English of course. It was plain you were in dire straits. Couldn’t leave a fellow countryman in the lurch.’

  James slapped his hand on the table. ‘Then neither can we, Captain Broadbridge, even if his calls for help are more muted.’

  Broadbridge’s manner changed completely, his frown disappeared and he spoke rapidly, making interruption impossible. ‘Then I can do no more than accept, sir. For not to do so would be an insult. A hundred guineas would see to my immediate needs, and if your offer still holds after that, then it will strengthen me in my negotiations with the syndicate. Nothing like another source of funds to concentrate the mind, I always say. And rest assured I will provide security.’

  Harry looked at his brother, wondering if he had the same feeling that they’d just been caught in a trap. ‘You refer to your share in this inn?’

  ‘I do not, sir. Why, I have investments in abundance. Loath to part with them, of course, for they’re worth a mint now and set to grow. I cannot take your help without putting something solid up to cover it.’

  ‘You’re too
generous,’ said James with biting irony. He too had the look of a man who’d just been stung.

  ‘Nonsense, sir.’ Broadbridge looked around with an exaggerated air of conspiracy, then spoke in a whisper.

  ‘And to show how much I appreciate your kindness, I may be able to put you in the way of a good opportunity. For if you’ve got funds for investment, then I may be in a position to make you a pile. I believe that Bart and I finally struck a bargain the other night, so I doubt I’ll need your help. But the thought of all that money doing nothing, why it’s a disgrace, I say.’

  Broadbridge leant even closer. He looked as though he was about to try and sell something. Harry spoke quickly to avoid it. ‘I was given to understand you had a particular ship in mind.’

  He fixed Harry with a distrustful look again, yet the merest novice could have guessed where the information came from.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘And you’ve been after it for some time, I gather?’ said James.

  ‘That’s so, and many an obstacle put in my path, I can tell you. I had hellish difficulty in finding out who owned it, for a start. She’s sitting out there in the outer roads. Has been for weeks, since she came out of the dockyard. I put out a number of feelers saying I was interested. Think they’d be glad to talk to me, but nothing has come back.’

  ‘Captain Broadbridge. If you don’t know the owner, how do you know it’s for sale?’

  Again Broadbridge tapped the side of his nose, and adopted a cunning air. ‘I know now. It was just a case of unlocking the mystery.’

  Broadbridge pushed himself back from the table, and treated himself to a hearty laugh. But he declined to share the joke with the Ludlows.

  ‘You’re sure she’s the right type of vessel?’

  ‘I am. And you can see from her lines she’s a flyer. I shall strike a bargain on the spot if I can.’

  Again he exposed himself, for no experienced captain would ever buy a ship before he’d had a chance to take it out to sea. Broadbridge might be lucky. But there again, he might make an expensive error. ‘Captain Broadbridge, I have some knowledge in these matters. If you feel the need of a second opinion, I would be happy to cast an eye over her myself.’