by Tim Severin
‘Again, Lynch, you guess correctly. We are on our way to investigate a sighting that is rather more promising.’ Lockwood treated Hector to a long, calculating stare. ‘In any case this journey will not be a waste of my time if you improve on the rather vague description that Mr Hall has just provided of our quarry.’
Hector kept his face blank, hiding his own thoughts. He was certainly able to add to Jezreel’s description of Henry Avery. But his instinct told him that he should not be too free with his knowledge. He had detected a ruthlessness in Lockwood, and that made him cautious. He should hoard a few nuggets of information and only use them if it was to his own advantage.
✻
They spent that night at an inn five miles out of London, and were back on the road by the time the sun was lifting clear of the horizon. It promised to be another hot, dry summer’s day, and the gangs of reapers were already walking to the wheat fields, ready to start work as soon as the dew dried off. Hector stared out of the window at the landscape, trying to read clues that would tell him where they were headed. They passed through a couple of small unidentifiable towns, and then they were in well-farmed, prosperous countryside. There were cherry and apple orchards, fields of beans and vegetables, solid-looking manor houses. Occasionally he caught sight of the distant glint of a broad river far away to the left. He suspected it might be the Thames but he couldn’t be certain, and he refrained from asking Jezreel. He did not want to speak with his friend with Lockwood listening. The carriage made rapid progress wherever the local landholder had maintained the road surface. During those level stretches Lockwood would again write his notes as he took Hector and Jezreel through their narratives of the months they had spent on Fancy. Where the road had been neglected, and the carriage lurched and wallowed over ruts still puddled from the thunderstorms of the previous evening, he leaned back and dozed. He volunteered no information about their destination, and it was the driver who eventually called, ‘Coming up to Rochester, sir! I can hear the noon bells of the cathedral.’
Hector had heard the name before but could not remember where or when. He was searching his memory when the carriage driver pulled up his horses so that his assistant could get down and pay the toll for the long stone bridge at the entrance to the city. There was a sharp rap on the door and a voice called, ‘Mr Lockwood!’
A small barrel-bodied man with a dark complexion and greasy hair was standing beside the coach. His short wooden staff tipped with metal reminded Hector of the kotwal’s in Delhi.
‘I’m Tipstaff Bawmer, sir. I sent you word about Henry Avery.’
Lockwood swung open the carriage door. ‘Then climb in, Mr Bawmer, and let us hear what you have to say.’
The tipstaff pulled himself into the carriage and squeezed in beside Hector. ‘Avery’s still at his house,’ he declared. There was a note of suppressed elation in his voice. ‘I’ve men watching him day and night. Knew him the moment your handbill arrived at the courthouse.’
A tipstaff made an ideal informer, Hector thought to himself as he listened to Bawmer’s eager account. A tipstaff worked for the local magistrates and would be among the first to see official notices relating to legal matters. Lockwood must have printed up a circular offering the £500 reward and sent it out to as many courts as possible. Bawmer had chosen to contact Lockwood directly instead of informing the local magistrates about Avery’s presence in Rochester. Doubtless he intended to claim the reward for himself.
‘You are certain it is Avery?’ Lockwood asked.
‘No doubt of it, sir.’ Bawmer was fidgeting with anticipation. He shifted the staff into the other hand so he could wipe a sweaty palm on the knee of his breeches. ‘Showed up in Rochester a couple of months ago. Never short of ready money and pays in coin, usually gold.’
‘What does he look like?’
‘Medium height, brown as a berry from the foreign sun, light on his feet with that little sway in his walk so you know he’s spent a long time on ships. And he uses foreign-sounding words. Must have picked them up when he was with foreign pirates.’
Lockwood was openly sceptical. ‘That description could fit any mariner home after a lucky voyage. What makes you suspect that he’s Avery?’
‘Because he hides indoors most of the day, sir, and only goes out after dark or in bad weather when there’s no one else about.’ A crafty smile appeared on the tipstaff’s face. ‘That got his neighbours talking. He took them for fools.’
‘And yet you know that he pays in gold coin. How’s that?’
‘My sister works at the tavern where Avery takes a drink of an evening. She says he prefers rum over our local cider, though it’s five times the price.’
The thief-taker flicked a glance at Jezreel and raised an eyebrow. Hector remembered that Jezreel had said Avery was not a drinker. ‘You say he goes to a tavern?’ Lockwood asked the informer.
Bawmer sensed that he might have said something wrong, and hurried to cover his mistake. ‘It’s not often he goes out for a drink.’
Lockwood leaned back in his seat, implying that he saw no point in asking any further questions. ‘Well then, Tipstaff Bawmer, let’s go and take this Avery.’
Bawmer glanced around him, taking in the luxurious carriage. ‘He’s a flighty one, this Avery . . .’ he began apologetically.
‘I don’t intend to drive up to his front door,’ Lockwood told him testily. ‘Just bring us to within walking distance of where he lives. From there you and my two assistants can go on foot and bring him back to me.’
Hector was disconcerted to hear himself and Jezreel described as the thief-taker’s assistants, but a warning look from Lockwood kept him silent.
The tipstaff leaned out of the carriage window and gave directions to the driver. The carriage rolled forward over the bridge, past the cathedral and along the high street. Bawmer called a halt when they reached a crossroads where a thick-set ox of a man stood waiting.
‘I’ve enlisted the help of the constable,’ Bawmer explained to Lockwood. ‘He’s put two men in the lane at the back of Avery’s house. There’s no chance he will escape.’
Hector and Jezreel followed the tipstaff out into the road. The carriage had stopped well short of a row of modest timber and thatch houses.
‘Avery rents the fourth house along.’ Bawmer dropped his voice to a whisper though they were well over a hundred yards away.
The houses were the sort occupied by tradesmen and skilled artisans. Each had its small fenced-in front garden and a tiny yard at the back. Behind them were water meadows where cattle grazed hock-deep in rich summer pasture. The river beyond the meadows provided an anchorage for three or four warships. Farther downstream was some sort of dockyard.
Hector was still racking his brains, trying to recall why the name of Rochester was familiar, when Bawmer and the constable beckoned him to follow them. The fourth house was so quiet that it looked uninhabited. Coming closer, he noticed that the upstairs curtains were drawn.
At the front door, Bawmer stood aside. ‘You knock,’ he said to Hector, making him wonder if the tipstaff feared the notorious pirate Avery might be violent.
Hector tapped on the door. There was no reply.
‘Probably cleared out,’ Jezreel murmured beside him. ‘Can’t imagine that Avery would let himself be taken so easily.’
Hector knocked again, more loudly. ‘Anyone there?’ he called. His voice came out tight and strangled. He did not relish the thought of delivering Avery into the hands of a man like Lockwood.
Again there was no reply, and he began to hope that perhaps the house was indeed empty, and that Avery had gone.
A third burst of knocking produced a response. He heard footsteps coming along the passageway, and a voice called, ‘Hold hard there, cully. I’m on my way.’
With a sudden shock of recognition Hector knew the voice, and why Rochester was a familiar name.
There was the sound of a latch being lifted, and the door swung open to reveal the freckled face
and curly reddish hair of John Dann, Fancy’s former coxswain, who had once told him that he had moved to Rochester to be near the navy yard.
Dann’s blue eyes widened as he saw Jezreel and Hector. ‘What are you two doing here, shipmates?’ he exclaimed, startled. Then, with a look of alarm, he took a step back and tried to close the door. The burly constable shoved Hector aside and pushed Dann up against the wall. Dann was too stunned to twist away, and the constable slipped a pair of manacles over the coxswain’s wrists. ‘Someone who wants to speak with you, Captain Avery,’ announced Bawmer triumphantly.
✻
Dann’s interrogation took place in a small private room overlooking the stable yard of the King’s Head, Rochester’s principal inn. The window was kept wide open to allow a little air to circulate and it carried the smells of hay and horse dung as well as a rhythmic clanking whenever someone worked the yard pump, filling buckets for the household and stables. Lockwood dismissed Bawmer contemptuously, and the disappointed tipstaff left the room grumbling that, by rights, he was due some part of the reward because he had promised money to the constable. Dann, still in manacles, sat on a hard upright chair facing Lockwood across a small table. Now and again he glanced toward Jezreel and Hector seated on a bench against the wall. His gaze was more reproachful than hostile.
‘You were Henry Avery’s coxswain?’ The thief-taker placed his notebook open on the table in front of him.
‘Fancy’s coxswain, not Avery’s,’ Dann corrected him. ‘By vote of the ship’s company.’ He seemed resigned to his capture. His voice was flat.
‘It’s Henry Avery who interests me. Where did he take Fancy after looting the Mogul’s ship?’
‘To Bourbon.’
‘Not to St Mary’s? To do business with Mr Baldridge?’
The question made Hector sit up. He was surprised that Lockwood knew about a dealer in stolen goods based in Madagascar. Then he remembered Jezreel had mentioned Baldridge’s name in passing while he was telling Lockwood about his time on Fancy. Hector did not recall Lockwood writing down the information at the time. It was a reminder that anything he said to Lockwood was liable to be put to use. He would have to guard his tongue whenever dealing with the thief-taker.
Dann shook his head. ‘Avery had a low opinion of Baldridge. He had a bad reputation, and there was a rumour that he had fallen out with the native chiefs on the mainland. There was talk that St Mary’s might be attacked.’
‘So you made the division of the prize at Bourbon.’
‘We shared out everything that could be divided easily: silver and gold coin, and the like. Some of the jewellery and other items had yet to find buyers.’
‘Was anything kept back for Captain Mayes’ company aboard Pearl? I’m told they took part in the attack, but left the scene without any of the prize.’
Dann swivelled his head and gave Jezreel and Hector a sour look that made it clear he knew where Lockwood had got his information. The thought occurred to Hector that this was exactly what the thief-taker intended.
The coxswain allowed himself a vengeful grin. ‘We never saw those cheating bastards on Pearl again. Avery said he would not wait for them to show up. Made him twice as popular as before.’
‘After the division of spoils, what then?’ Lockwood prompted.
‘Half our company, and all the foreigners – there were Danes and French and a couple of Dutchies – left the ship at Bourbon. There were about thirty of them on Fancy. They wanted to get back to their own countries, taking their prize with them.’
‘But Avery remained in command?’
‘We all thought he could do no wrong and Fancy was a lucky ship. Some wanted to continue with her cruise and get even richer. But Avery was having none of it. He insisted that we get well away from those seas and then go our separate ways.’
Two bluebottles had flown in through the open window and were buzzing loudly as they circled Dann’s head of curly hair. Unable to move his manacled wrists, he ducked his head down into the collar of his shirt until they flew away. ‘We were shorthanded of course, a little more than a hundred men, and that was enough to manage Fancy. Long Ben had already thought it through, as usual. Worse luck.’
Lockwood pounced. ‘Why worse luck?’
‘He set course for the Caribbees, brought us to the Bahamas where he came to an arrangement with the governor. Seemed clever at the time . . . and so it was, for him.’
A resentful tone had crept into Dann’s voice.
Lockwood turned over another page. ‘So what happened in the Bahamas?’
‘We spent several weeks ashore – though there is little enough to do in that godforsaken hole, however much chink is in your pocket. Governor took his bribe to look the other way, and we landed most of the prize. Then all of a sudden things turned nasty, and those of us who weren’t arrested, cut our cables. We made a run for it.’
‘Including Henry Avery?’
‘He said he’d follow on. Me and half a dozen of my mates headed for New York, just as Long Ben suggested.’ Dann gave a mirthless laugh. ‘He gulled us. We trusted him with the rest of the prize that had not yet found buyers. He said he’d meet us in New York with the proceeds, and then we’d head home, in ones and twos.’
‘And he never showed up,’ Lockwood said softly.
‘No sign of him. We waited a month. But the hunt was on for anyone from Fancy, and every day the risk increased of being picked up and questioned. I already had a fair amount of plunder so I took passage to Ireland and on to Liverpool. From there I came to Rochester.’
‘And not a word from Avery since?’
‘Nothing.’ Dann glowered at Jezreel and Hector. ‘I thought I was free and clear until those two showed up at my door.’
There was a long silence as Lockwood looked back through his notes. Finally, he said, ‘In those weeks after Bourbon did Avery drop any hint of his own plans? Where he would go with his share of the prize? Think carefully, it could affect your own future.’
Dann gave a snort of frustration. ‘He was always a close one, Long Ben. You never really knew what he had in mind.’ He nodded in Hector’s direction. ‘You’d be better off asking him about Avery’s way of thinking. They hit it off well enough.’
‘Mr Lynch is doing his best,’ Lockwood told him. ‘Avery denied him and Mr Hall of any share of the prize from the Mogul’s ship. He abandoned both of them by sailing away, leaving them on Pearl.’
Hector had to admire Lockwood’s guile. He had planted in Dann’s mind the thought that two of Avery’s victims were already helping in the hunt for Long Ben and, if he followed their example, he might escape the hangman.
Dann closed his eyes and sat for a while as he tried to think of any nuggets of information that might help his cause.
Finally he said, ‘It was Long Ben who told us that anyone who planned on returning to England should go first to Ireland, then take a ship out of Dublin and land in either Liverpool or Bristol. He said it would confuse the trail. I recall thinking to myself that he had thought about it carefully, and maybe he would come with us.’
Lockwood closed his notebook and got to his feet. ‘That will be all, Dann. I’m handing you over to the local magistrates to be held in Rochester Goal. What they decide to do with you is up to them.’
‘What makes me different from these two?’ Dann demanded in a sudden show of defiance. He jerked his head to where Hector and Jezreel sat on their bench. ‘They had no profit from the Mogul’s ship, but they were there when we took her.’
The look that Lockwood gave Dann was one of the coldest that Hector had ever seen. ‘They still have work to do.’
TWENTY-THREE
‘Bristol or Liverpool?’ Lockwood asked. ‘Come now, Lynch, if you know Henry Avery as well as coxswain Dann claimed, you must have an opinion.’
The thief-taker stood with his back to a window overlooking Leadenhall and the light fell directly in Hector’s eyes. Three weeks had passed since the trip to Rochester and He
ctor was on the alert for the thief-taker’s techniques. He recalled the cynical way Lockwood had used him and Jezreel as a device to squeeze Dann for every last drop of information.
Hector hoped that his face did not show his misgivings. During the journey back to London, Lockwood had made them an offer that was impossible for them to turn down: if they used their knowledge of Avery to assist him hunt Fancy’s captain, the thief-taker would keep their arrival in England secret from the authorities.
‘Avery would have chosen to land at Bristol, if he returned to England,’ Hector said carefully.
‘Why Bristol?’
‘Dann came in through Liverpool, and probably others from Fancy. Long Ben would not want to run the risk of encountering his former shipmates.’
‘A chance meeting was hardly likely,’ Lockwood objected.
‘Avery repeatedly told his men to travel in small groups to avoid attracting attention. If Dann and his friends came through Liverpool, then Avery would have heeded his own advice and stayed clear, taking a different route.’
‘That supposes that Avery kept track of Dann and his fellows on their way to England.’
Hector was not put off by Lockwood’s unhelpful responses. ‘One of the things I learned about Fancy’s captain was that he always let others take the first risk. If he intended coming back to England, Avery would have set it up so he followed Dann and his friends to Dublin, then waited there to see how they fared on the final crossing to England.’
Lockwood gave a grunt which could have been of approval or of frustration. He walked past Hector to where a tall long-case clock stood against the wall. Like the rest of the furniture, it was new and must have cost a great deal of money. The pale arabesques of the marquetry contrasted with the polished walnut of the main trunk. Hector guessed that the room was normally an office for the same Sir Jeremiah who had loaned Lockwood his opulent carriage for the trip to Rochester.
‘I agree with you,’ Lockwood said. ‘Nevertheless, after listening to Dann I sent word to the magistrates in both Liverpool and Bristol to ask if there were any sightings of anyone matching Avery’s vague description.’ He pulled open the clock’s door to inspect the mechanism of pendulum and weights. Watching him, Hector thought it was typical of the thief-taker that he had to keep himself busy, always seeking to find out more.
