Pistoleer: HellBurner

by Smith, Skye

  Cleff put the Freisburn in close and then one of the lads scrambled up the rigging with a grapple and caught one of the frigate's beams with his second throw. Now the rest of the crew scrambled up the rigging ladders and hauled on the grapple rope, which tipped the Freisburn over sideways until the mast touched the frigate's stern, and there the grapple was tied off. Their own rigging was now a rope ladder into the blown away hole in the stern of the frigate, and the crew scrambled up it to board her.

  Daniel, with his double-barreled dragon-pistol, and accompanied by two strong lads each carrying one of his other pistols, was the first through the hole, and luckily there was no reception party. In truth, the wreckage of what must have been an ornate captain's cabin was eerie in its quietude. The eeriness was heightened by the morbid stench of blood and vomit about the place. At the all clear, the rest of the crew clambered through the gapping hole and once aboard immediately made a search for anything portable and valuable, but found nothing. No silver, no gold, no guns, no charts, no logs, for all these things would already be ashore with the officers.

  "Over here, Danny!" came a call from another cabin to the port side. "This must have been their lockup." Again, in the lockup there was nothing left behind that was portable and valuable.

  "What's in them kegs and chests?" Daniel asked. "Be careful opening them. If they contain anything of worth we need to keep them watertight. The only quick way to get them down from here is to launch them into the drink."

  "Brandy," called one of the men, with wet lips and a wide smile.

  "Spices," called out another with a sneeze.

  "Right then, into the drink with them. Then we are out of here and down to the Freisburn to drag them aboard." The hardest thing about the operation was aiming the kegs so they didn't crash into each other as they hit the water. It took just a few minutes before the sea beneath the stern was a mass of barely bobbing kegs, and light bouncing chests. The crew scrambled back down the rigging, while the three with pistols kept them covered from within the frigate.

  One of the lads, the one with Daniel's old dragon, hissed at Daniel that he had heard something. There it was again. The clump of heavy footsteps of many boots on a wooden deck was now unmistakable. Daniel motioned to the lad to come close, and when he was within whispering distanced, ordered him to fire his dragon towards the sound of the boots and then get down the rigging. The shot filled the enclosed deck with the putrid smoke of gunpowder and sulphur and lye. Once the echoing of the shot was finished, they could no longer hear footsteps. But then they started again, this time accompanied by some coughing.

  The other lad was carrying a standard pistol loaded with one killing ball. "I will go down last, lad,” Daniel told him while he waved the smoke out of his face. "Get down the rigging and tell the crew to make ready to cut the grapple line. I want your pistol aimed up here so you can shoot anyone who tries to throw things down on me." The lad eagerly leaped into the rigging and slid down in the dare-the-devil way that only the young can afford.

  The smoke was clearing and he raised his double-barreled dragon and cocked the hammer of the fat barrel. He saw something move in the clearing smoke and he aimed low and fired the thing to thicken the smoke. There were cries through the smoke as some of the Spaniards felt the sting of birdshot on their legs, and then the sound of retreating boots and men throwing themselves to the deck.

  Daniel leaped into the rigging and as soon as he was sure of his grip he yelled at the crew to cut the grapple lines, and then he hung on for dear life. With the lines cut, the ship corrected its balance by rocking from side to side. This caused him to be shaken back and forth with the leverage of half a mast length. As soon as the mast calmed, he began to work his way down the rigging.

  There was a call from above and he looked up. A call in heavily-accented English. "Your pistola is empty now, Eengleesh. Say de prayers."

  A Spanish officer was looking down at him and taking the time to properly aim the pistol he held. He must have seen the lad below Daniel cock his pistol, because he suddenly changed the aim of his own pistol away from Daniel. That was the last anyone saw of the officer, because Daniel pulled the trigger. The killing barrel of his dragon roared and the man's face and tailored coat disappeared behind gun smoke. Though no one could see him, everyone could hear his screams, so the ball must have hit him.

  Less than an hour after they had chosen to board the frigate they were on their way again, but this time with the ship so full of casks and chests that the men were squeezed into their rowing positions, and some even had to stand. "Where to now? London to sell this lot?" asked Cleff.

  "Nay, the Thames will be well patrolled by the English fleet. We have no choice but to take it home and wait for these fleets to disappear for the winter."

  "We could sell it all in Cambridge,” Cleff pointed out.

  "We can sell enough there to clear expenses, but if we sell too much the prices will drop. Nay, most of it we will sell in London, but not until spring." He pointed towards the north and Gull Stream which led through Goodwin Sounds and out into the strait. "Quickly now, before the English fleet come to their senses and realize what we just did."

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  THE PISTOLEER - HellBurner by Skye Smith Copyright 2013-14

  Chapter 19 - With Cromwell and Blake in London, April 1640

  Oliver Cromwell, with his heavy pack slung over one shoulder, followed Daniel along Cheapside towards Saint Paul’s. It was late and most of the shops showed no lights. At a shop that sold Christian trinkets, they stopped and Daniel knocked. A window creaked open above and a man's voice asked them what they wanted.

  "It's me, Dan. Do you have any rooms to spare?" Since Alice had begun running the shop, Tom, her goldsmith husband, had more time to spend creating his trinkets so the profits of the shop had soared. Soared enough for the newlyweds to rent all of the floors above the shop. It was a handy and friendly place to stay whenever Daniel was in London.

  There was a sound of fumbling with the bar on the door while a candle lantern threw shadows against the barred windows. The door swung open and Daniel's hand was grabbed in the firm grip of his friend Robert Blake. Of course Robert would be staying here with his little sister Alice. Robert and Oliver nodded to each other. They had met only once, back in Ely, but that was before both of them had been called up to Parliament. Now they began sizing each other up.

  While those two serious Puritans were staring at each other, Alice skipped down the stairs and threw herself into Daniel's arms. As she wore just her night gown, it was a most un-Puritan thing to do. Daniel pushed her away, explaining that his sea cloak was filthy and salty and she would ruin her gown, but she would have none of it.

  "Don't be silly,” she laughed. "How else should I greet the man who saved my life? Here,” she grabbed his hand and placed it onto her tummy, "there is a life there that would not be, if not for you. You saved two lives that night in the River Parrett." She heard her husband coming down the stairs. "And now there will be three happy lives."

  Alice and Thomas agreed that he could store his chests of Spanish spices and kegs of brandy in the attic while he marketed them. This was a great help, for it meant that tomorrow Anso and the crew of the Freisburn could hire a cart and unload the ship. It would take them but a day or two to find an outbound cargo, and then they would be gone from the nasty docklands of London. Daniel would stay behind in London until the brandy and spices were sold.

  That first night ashore, Daniel fell asleep early because he did not have to share a room. This was because Oliver was bunking with Robert so that the two Puritan politicians could talk away the night without bothering anyone else. Unfortunately, he did not sleep long for his was the room with the window overlooking Cheapside. Cheapside residents were woken early every morning by the sound of cartwheels on cobble. First the garbage collectors, then the barrows heading to market, then the carriages of those needing early prayers, or early shopping, or early meals.


  Daniel groaned and buried his head beneath his pillow to drown the noise. How could anyone ever be happy while living in a noisy city? Oliver, on the other hand, was so curious about this great city that at first light he came into the front bedroom without knocking and immediately dragged a stool to the window and took in every movement on the increasingly busy street.

  The clothing of the busy people below separated them into three types. The grubby dun-coloured clothes of those that worked hard for their pennies. The drab but neat and clean clothes of the Puritans, who earned better and stayed cleaner due to their schooling. Lastly, there was the flamboyant and colorful clothing of those who gained their wealth from the work of others, especially off the backs of the country peasants who worked the great inherited estates of the aristocrats.

  Alice knocked lightly and then walked in carrying a morning tray, and caught both men in their nightshirts. Master Cromwell quickly pulled a blanket from the bed to cover himself and stood still and quite useless, while she looked for a clear space on any surface to put the heavy tray down. Daniel reached out from the bed and cleared a small bed chest with a sweep of his arm. She put the tray down on it and then sat on his bed and gave him a good morning kiss. Master Cromwell turned his face away.

  Robert tumbled through the open door and didn't give Alice a second look as he went straight up to Oliver. "Come, get dressed. We can share a trap to Westminster. I want to be there early to see how the men group as they arrive." Only then did he notice Alice leaning against Daniel on his bed and he gave her a sour look.

  "Stop it,” she scolded. "If you want to be happy in life then you must trust those around you. If you do not trust those around you, then you should find a different life."

  "Aye, fitting words for two stout lads off to sit before a king,” Daniel said as he reached over to grab a piece of buttered bread before it cooled. "You'd better leave us, lass, so that Ollie can dress."

  "Why? I've seen men dress before. I am married now, remember?" She smirked at the shocked look on the faces of the two Puritans. "Oh, all right." She left but did not close the door. She planned on giving Master Cromwell a minute and then pop back in just to embarrass him. Her brother must have read her mind because the door was pushed closed behind her.

  "So, you are both called to Parliament, then?" Daniel asked rhetorically. "What about Henry Marten? Has he been called as well?"

  "I don't kn..." began Oliver.

  "Yes indeed,” finished Robert. "Have you seen Henry since our trip through Oxford?"

  "Aye, many times,” replied Daniel suddenly realizing how long it had been since he had spoken to Robert, his fellow pistoleer, friend, and one-time partner in the Genever trade. "Each time I come to London I seem to run into him."

  "Ah,” Oliver muttered. "Henry Marten. Well, that explains a lot. So is that who fronted you the money to ship muskets to Scotland?"

  "Shhh!" Daniel hushed him. "That transaction is a secret that only Henry should tell. It would cost him his life if King Charlie found out."

  "Can you arrange for me to meet him?" Oliver asked. "Privately that is, for I am sure we will see him at Westminster."

  "I'll see what I can do. Now weren't you two in a hurry to get to Westminster?"

  * * * * *

  Robert was embarrassed and speechless when he walked into Henry Marten's town house and was asked for his hat by Mary Ward, the personal maid of Henry's wife Margaret. He was the last to arrive, so she pulled him quickly aside and whispered harshly to him, "You must ignore me as if we were the briefest of acquaintances."

  "That will be difficult,” replied Robert softly, dearly wishing to give her a hug. Of all the women he had ever slept with, this was the woman he most regretted not asking the hand of. He pushed closer to her, close enough to feel the warmth of her flush.

  "No, you mustn't,” she pushed him away. "Henry has declared me his mistress. As soon as I bear this child for him, he will declare me his concubine. I will rule his London house. Do you understand? I am with child. Now get thee away and learn to ignore me."

  As she turned away from him and slipped out of his arms, his hand rubbed against her belly. She was definitely with child, and their own dalliances were too far in the past for it to be his. "Mary,” he croaked out. He wanted to tell her how happy he was for her, but she was walking away and he did not want to say it in a loud voice.

  She turned after three steps and told him, "Don't you be pitying me or worrying about me. This is with Margaret's permission. Her complete permission. I have never been happier or more secure. Not in my whole life."

  Henry called out with a jest for him to quit dallying with the lady of the house. When Robert came closer he said, "Oh, of course, I couldn't place you for a moment. You were the other dashing Pistoleer who saved Margaret from highwaymen. And now a parliamentarian. Excellent. Remind me to show you my collection of pistols. No republican should be without one. What do you carry when in London?"

  "A Swiss built wheel lock. I would show it to you, but it would be most inappropriate to draw a loaded pistol in this company."

  "Later then. Come and meet the other friends who have been called to Parliament."

  * * * * *

  As the evening progressed and more Spanish brandy was consumed, it became a great success. Henry had wanted to bring parliamentarians together, republican parliamentarians, republicans from ridings spread across the kingdom. Together in his home so they could speak face to face without being spied upon by the king's agents. The worst and most despicable of king's agents, of course, being the puffed-up wastes of air that sat in the House of Lords.

  Daniel, as the only non-Puritan and non-Parliamentarian, was immediately bored by all of the double speak and innuendo of all of these highly educated Oxford and Cambridge graduates. Most of them were wealthy lawyers so he had very little in common with them, and frankly couldn't understand half of the complex words they bantered around with such ease. He sought out Mary's company, and within moments was helping her and her cook in the preparation and delivery of the snacks to the many card tables that were gaily arranged in the spacious dining room in place of the usual single long table.

  "Now there is a sight,” Oliver called out. "A well-practiced warrior wielding a snack tray instead of a shield." When he was asked to explain his comment, he continued. "Why, didn't you know? Yon Daniel rode with the Scots who so humiliated Henry Rich and his cavalry at Kelso, and afterwards sailed with Maarten Tromp who so humiliated the Armada in the Downs."

  Mary's plan of being fashionable by serving food at card tables while the men played the latest game, whist, was destroyed in an instant as the men grabbed up the small tables and shoved them end to each to form one long table to hold the snacks and the drinks so they could cluster around Daniel and prod him to tell of his adventures.

  For three hours Daniel told his stories and answered questions that led to other stories, until he was so hoarse that even the constant trickle of purloined brandy down his throat would not take the gruff note away from his voice.

  "So you are saying that King Charlie's forces were humiliated at the Tweed and at the Downs for the same reason. They lacked professional leadership?" asked a lawyer introduced as Oliver Sinjin or Sanjohn or something similar, who was the member from Totnes.

  "Aye, that was the main reason,” Daniel confirmed. "There were many reasons but they all point back to that one."

  "So as the man who watched both of those humiliations, what do you expect of Charlie now?" asked another John, John Hampden the member from Wendover.

  "You well know what to expect. It was you who said earlier that the only reason he has called Parliament together is that he needs money to fight the Scots. A lot of money, and that means a new tax, and he can't do that without the approval of Parliament."

  "Yes, yes, yes, but beyond that,” Henry joined in. "Strategically, I mean. Perhaps from the point of view of the Scots or the Dutch."

  "Charlie has spent the
last year displaying his incompetence and shortcomings,” Daniel replied. "He has angered his most obvious allies against the Papists. Charles Stuart is no longer welcome in his own home kingdom of Scotland. The Spanish and the Portuguese blame him for the loss of their Armada because he failed to protect it from the Dutch. The Dutch and the French mistrust him because he ordered his cannons to fire on the Dutch fleet. Mistrust, nay, they hate him because afterwards he ordered his Royal fleet to ferry what was left of the Spanish army out of Kent and into Dunkirk."

  "You see,” Hampden clapped his hands to make the other members pay attention. "His peace treaties have gained Charlie no friends and many enemies."

  "The Dutch hate him so much,” Daniel said looking around so as to gauge the effect of what he was about to say, "that I am surprised they haven't offered the Scots the loan of an army with which to depose Charlie and create a republic in Scotland."

  All around the table men sucked in their breath and chatted and smiled at each other. Their thoughts were on their faces. Every man in this room wanted rid of this king, or perhaps rid of all kings. "Would they respond to a message from us inviting their help?"

  "Who, the Dutch or the Scots?"

  "Either."

  "The Scots perhaps,” Daniel thought about it while he sipped brandy. The others waited, not speaking, their rapt silence encouraging him to answer the question. "The Dutch, not this year. Not after such a complete defeat of both the Spanish and Portuguese fleets."

  "How so?"

  "Consider the implications of that defeat,” Daniel replied. "On that one day at the Downs the control and the balance of trade changed. For the entire world it changed. Neither Spain nor Portugal could afford to lose those ships. Those were the ships built to guard their trade convoys. Their loss means that this year their spice galleons from both the West and East Indies are sailing undefended. Undefended and carrying millions in spice and gold across dangerous seas.