Spies and Subterfuge

by Christopher Hoare

“We must make the most of it,” Lord Bond said. “With two pursuers they could bottle us in.”

  “Aye, it will be a close thing, but one good tack and we could be free on the open sea.”

  Lord Bond’s prediction was found true, and the Reaper was so closely tracked by one Frenchman on each stern quarter that much of their better sailing advantage was lost to the need to stay a cannon shot distant from their best reach. Even so, they managed to make the open sea without being hit by the desultory fire from their pursuers.

  Lord Bond gave the order to lower the American flag and raise the Union Jack. “We are now in our element and the Frenchies will fear to sail too far from their safe coastline,” he said. “As soon as we can make enough sea-room to turn north, we must make for the eastern end watch of the blockade. Likely we will find one of our ships stationed there.”

  “Sail ho!” came a cry from the lookout in the bow.

  Lord Bond and Roberta went forward to see. It seemed that Bond no longer expected them to come under cannon fire—not without ample warning, at least—and so he had ceased urging her to return below.

  She stood beside him as he used the telescope. “Is it one of our blockade?”

  He scanned longer and then lowered the instrument. “I would judge that it is a gun brig—almost certainly the inshore watch. I wonder if I should instruct Farley to make for it, but a gun brig will hardly be able to hold off two larger warships while we escape.”

  “It would be a poor thing to sacrifice those poor fellows to our safety.”

  “You are correct, my Dear. Not a gentlemanly thing to do—but the results of our intelligence would be considered of inestimatedly greater value than the lives of such a crew . . . who are stationed here to make whatever sacrifice their duty requires.”

  She stared at him but said nothing.

  He turned his telescope on the thirty-gun frigate, visible in the fading light a little over two nautical miles astern. “I will order nothing so rash for their fate if we succeed in maintaining our present lead. If we get close enough to speak before dark I will be content to accept his escort as we take his directions to find Medusa.”

  Before dark, they were able to exchange signals with the brig and kept their stern lanterns alight as night fell in order to safely approach one another. The commander of the brig gave them the course to find Medusa, likely off Walcheren Island or the northern estuary beyond, and undertook to keep station astern in the event the French frigate might pursue them through the night.

  Roberta did not feel that very likely as the final glimpse of their pursuers suggested they were about to return to an inshore course before darkness fell. She felt sure of their escape as she settled in for the night in the small cabin she shared with the other women—accommodation being greatly strained with so many aboard.

  “We should be able to return you to your husband in the morning, Annie. You and a number of others who were likewise assigned to Reaper from Medusa’s crew. I will be certain to have my husband pay you for your services very handsomely when you leave—I have been very well served by your presence.”

  Annie’s voice came from the hammock suspended in the corner. “’Tis no need, My Lady. I has scarce been in hard straits, and for no more than two week.”

  “Even so, I doubt that any other lady’s maid in Europe has been required to do her service with one eye looking out for Fouché and his minions. There were times when I found your presence very reassuring.”

  “I wonder what I shall find in Britain,” Elise said. “Although it is the home of my absent husband in Sumatra, I do not know what family he has there nor how to find them.”

  “The Admiralty owes you a living from the service you have done them,” Roberta said.

  “If they had hired my services,” Elise answered. “Your husband was the one who engaged my assistance in learning France’s secrets—I was never recognised by the English crown.”

  “Then he is the one who must find for you.”

  “I find that such a very generous sentiment of yours, My Lady, considering the great disservices I have dealt you—for which I deeply apololgise—”

  “Say no more of that,” Roberta said quickly. “This is a matter I will take up with my husband, whom I feel to be far greater in the wrong than yourself. As far as I am concerned, we made our peace in Antwerp.”

  Elise leaned over the cot to kiss her. “For that I thank you, sister friend. I hope I may afford you some service in return. Will you soon go visit with his father, the Marquess?”

  “He says as soon as we have given our full reports to the Admiralty, but I do not relish the visit. I have been warned the Marquess will likely not welcome me.”

  “But surely he is such a great patriot that he will recognise you for your service to your country.”

  “My husband suggests as much, but I am sure you are more aware than I, that rare indeed is the circumstance where a spy has been considered an honourable addition to a family.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Looking for the Squadron

  Sunrise saw the Reaper and their escorting gun-brig alone on an empty sea in one of those brilliant late autumn days that made Roberta think that winter, with all its trials to come, was no more than a figment of her imagination. She stood at the port rail, feeling the low sun on her cheeks, before continuing aft to join her husband and Lieutenant Farley as they spoke to the officer of the gun brig sharing the moderate sea less than half a cable’s length to starboard.

  “I thank you for your care of us this night, Sir,” Lord Bond called. “I feel sure that we may now show a clean pair of heels to any Frenchman in this sea. We will detain you no longer from returning to your watch station—and will speak to Captain Bell of your diligent service when we find Medusa.”

  “Thank you, My Lord. I would expect you shall find the flag off Schouwen,” came the reply. “He expressed an intention to scare the inshore coastal traders coming from Bergen.”

  “Very well. You may leave us at your discretion.”

  Roberta watched as the brig went about and made good a course for the Westerschelde, from whence they had come in the night. Her husband embraced her briefly and planted a gentle kiss on her cheek.

  “You seem well-rested, my Dear, I might envy you. The officers remained on alert most of the night watches, but the Frenchies must have run for home. We will keep this course for another watch, but if we do not find Medusa by then will have to make for England. We must promptly return with our report.”

  Roberta nodded, every mile they made on this course would have to be doubled after they turned for home. “I am sure that our Medusa people aboard will hope to see her, but a trip to England would not be thought amiss.”

  He smiled. “I would concur, but I undertook to return Captain Bell’s people to him as soon as possible. I also have to discuss further with my Dutch allies about setting them ashore elsewhere in the Netherlands. The intelligence they can still provide will be important to the Admiralty.”

  Roberta shook her head. “Who can you mean? Have they not all been living in the same peril as ourselves?”

  “They do not spy for England from the generosity of their hearts—their hopes for a free Netherlands also rests in our success. Those hopes cannot be rewarded until Napoleon is defeated.”

  “Yes, I understand, but should we not speak with them at once?”

  “I had intended to do so as soon as my observations of our situation were accomplished. We may go below now,” he smiled. “I believe your words express an interest in participating in the discussion, and so I will allow your presence—as long as none of them object.”

  Roberta followed him to the companionway with her thoughts turning like an engineering problem in her mind—was he being generous with his approval of her participation; a generosity he might as easily refuse on other occasions, or did he believe her presence would add to the discussion? It might be useful instruction for her in future matters. She did not really
feel qualified to advise on spying matters but she felt qualified as a woman to determine where this new plan might affect Elise.

  While waiting in the great cabin, they sent one of the marines to have them report to His Lordship. Her husband strolled about the cabin and sometimes studied the sea beyond the stern windows in the meantime. “I’m becoming quite fond of this little schooner. I think our colonial brothers have accomplished something here. What do you say, my Dear?”

  “I believe I have a similar appreciation, Sir, but I cannot help but suppose that with the addition of quite a small steam engine such a craft could run any blockade the Navy could impose.”

  He stared at her, and then laughed. “And does that observation have any connection with your belief that one day a steamer could cross the Atlantic Ocean?”

  Roberta’s mood darkened. “No, My Lord, I should not allow you to laugh at such a pronouncement again. My supposition today was that the steam engine should be a secondary factor until it was needed to add sufficient speed to evade the vessels stationed to block entry to the harbour. Two or three knots added to Reaper’s wind powered attainment would allow it to evade the fastest frigate ever built.”

  Her husband looked at her and shrugged. “What do you envisage—fifteen knots? Is that possible?”

  “What do you suppose, Sir? You have been aboard Spiteful at almost thirteen knots—without any help from the wind at all.”

  “Hmm.” He turned his head to stare out of the stern windows and await the arrival of their allies.

  Lord Bond turned away from his wife to mask the displeasure she would surely see upon his face. It was beneath his dignity to bandy words about ships and the sea. He had been considered an expert in nautical matters from quite a young age, and did not find the discussion of steamships to his liking.

  Dash it all! She had the advantage on him in that sphere, but the circumstance was not of his doing. He had done his best to participate in the technical discussions in the shipyard, but Symington was always there with his mathematical expertise trying to make him look an ignoramus. The smug successes of the Black Gang refugee only added to his discomfort. Now that Roberta was his wife he must ensure she did not engage in such discussions in his presence, or else constrain the details to conform to matters he could converse in.

  He must impress upon her that she must never speak of such things in the presence of the Marquess or he’d never be able to get around the Old Fellow’s aversion to her low upbringing. Lord only knew that was a ticklish task that he had only the barest of plans to help him accomplish. He must strive to keep the Old Man’s attention on her service to the Crown, and do his best to avoid much mention of the nature of that service.

  How was he to impress these things upon her without alarming her with knowledge of—? At that moment the marine sentry returned with, “The people is here, M’Lord.”

  He turned to see the three Dutch agents file in. Elise, at the rear, fixed him with a dark expression. Drat the woman—drat all women for that matter.

  van Ee bowed and spoke for the three. “We are pleased that you have sent for us, My Lord. We too have a desire to speak of future plans.”

  “Yes. The question is when does your service to Britain end and your duty to the Netherlands begin? I assume you are not desirous of returning with us on the Reaper?”

  “Er . . . not all of us, My Lord.”

  Elise tossed her head. “You cannot dismiss me so easily, My Lord. I have always been in your hire for your spying—and now Fouché has recognised me—I cannot return to the mainland.”

  Bond stole a glance at his wife. What attitude did she have toward the woman? They seemed to be remarkably at ease with one another.

  van Aa spoke up. “There is also the matter of our stipend, My Lord. We were promised a hundred guineas for our service.”

  Bond frowned. “A hundred? I cannot offer such a sum at this date, and I doubt Captain Bell of the Medusa would be pleased to dispense such an amount for each of you. The best I can do would offer you a note that can be drawn upon the Admiralty.”

  “But not on the Continent,” Elise said.

  van Ee looked sheepish. “I do not wish to be disrespectful, My Lord, but a warrant drawn on the Admiralty is hardly a solid currency as long as Napoleon’s invasion is threatening.”

  His wife had to have her say. “It would seem that these friends of ours must take up their issue with the Admiralty directly, My Lord. They should sail on Reaper with us and return to their homeland at some future time.”

  He shook his head but was unable to reply for an interruption from Elise. “Is my life worth this hundred guineas as well? Perhaps I might be better to ask Fouché for a retainer.”

  “You want a hundred guineas? How many times have I met your outrageous expenses at a hundred francs a time?” Damn! Now he had as good as admitted to his wife that he had been paying her as a kept woman.

  She, of course, picked up on it immediately. “Is Madame Timmins not effectively a subject of the Crown through her marriage to an Englishman? Would her expenses not then be covered by the same Admiralty warrant, Husband, or are they another duty to the crown—as I believe you said the Foresight was?”

  “Hmm! I suppose these are all expenses of the Crown, but my chief concern is having one of these people, at least, remain on the Continent to act as a correspondent between the Dutch loyalists and the Admiralty.”

  van Ee shrugged. “How would such a correspondence be accomplished, My Lord?”

  “Through the British Embassy in Bern. The official there who collates the information from our correspondents would also act as paymaster.”

  “Then perhaps I might undertake the task, My Lord. With a sum of fifty guineas for my immediate expenses. What of my means of returning to the Continent?”

  “We must speak to Captain Bell. I feel sure he can send a cutter into a quiet bay on a suitable night. Where would be a good location?”

  van Ee deliberated a moment. “I would think one of the quiet stretches of beach close to where we are now would be safe enough. The French do not bother to keep a tight control of these coastal islands.”

  “Good we will speak to him of— What was that?”

  His wife answered. “I believe it was a lookout’s cry. They have sighted some sails.”

  They all repaired to the weather deck to learn what had been seen. Roberta walked in company with her husband but she did not feel it to be good company. His amorous adventures were displayed again; and Elise had never tried to hide the nature of their relationship. As soon as they reached London, where they might speak in better privacy than was possible aboard ship, she must steel herself for a very unpleasant conversation. But it must be done if she was to have any say in the conduct of this marriage.

  She put the unpleasant thoughts aside as soon as she reached the weather rail. The swelling topsails of a three-master were visible on the horizon—and something else. A large cloud of smoke seemed to accompany the ship—it could be no other than the Spiteful. Mr. Worthington had made good on his promise to keep a close station on the coast—she felt the colour rising from her neck into her cheeks—as he had assured her at that very emotional meeting aboard Medusa when she had arrived from London. How was she going to face him with news he would likely find distressing?

  Chapter Thirty

  Time for Regrets

  Roberta did not feel the great elation of the others as they met in the stern Great Cabin of Medusa to discuss the mission so recently accomplished. Captain Bell brought out some scarce spirits with which to toast His Majesty, His Royal Highness the Prince Regent, and the Lords of the Admiralty; which was accomplished by all present as they crowded around the chart table. Mr. Holmes and Captain McNab discussed the state of the French army with Marine Captain Hawkins; information they had gleaned through their incarceration in the Artillery company guardroom. Captain Bell and Commander Worthington stood in deep discussion with Lord Bond, relating recent information of the pr
esence of American privateers, spotted by a well-armed Indiaman in the Channel.

  Elizabeth Grandin, wearing an officer’s pea-jacket over an unmarked boiler suit made her way through the crowd to enfold Roberta in her arms. “Congratulations, Chief! So the fairy-tale has come true?”

  Roberta returned the hug and offered a wry smile. “I am still waiting for the fairy-godmother, but we are adjusting to one another.”

  Elizabeth gave her a quizzical look with her head tilted. “You do not seem as joyful as I might expect. When will we have time for me to offer sisterly advice?”

  “I do not know. Perhaps I will write when I settle down more. I believe I will be glad to have a friend to speak with.”

  Roberta glanced at her husband discussing the information Commander Worthington brought to them. The East India Company’s vessels were basically 64 gunships of the line with a reduced armament, although Commander Worthington was able to bring news from London that this particular vessel shipped some 24 pounders as well.

  “I thinks, My Lord, that your Reaper should consent to having the Spiteful as escort to Chatham. Should the Yankees spot a schooner sailing as an English prize, they’d raise all Heaven an’ Hell to steal it back.”

  “Yes. You’re probably right. No sense in insisting on vain braggadocio at this stage of the game, what!”

  Worthington had met Roberta’s eyes as His Lordship spoke—the first time he had done so since he had congratulated her on her elevation to both the peerage and the state of matrimony. That this he had accomplished with great formality and barely a trace of his habitual reddening told her he had learned of the matter soon after his rendezvous with Medusa. His expression now was controlled, but his eyes reminded her of those of a faithful hound that had received a kick. She had to look away before a similar distress gave her away.