The Devil to Pay

by David Donachie

  ‘You want to demand that he cease?’

  ‘But with some delicacy, for such people can be touchy when it comes to respect. He speaks no English so there is room for misunderstandings. There was a previous embassy sent by Lord Hood in which that occurred through the use of an interpreter, Mehmet’s own man, given we have no one at all who can speak to a Turk in his own tongue.’

  ‘And Lord Hood’s envoy—’

  ‘Spoke little French,’ Toomey said quickly to finish his sentence. ‘The letter he carried from Lord Hood was in French but it was no more really than a means of introducing his man and alluding to his mission. Whatever the Ottoman interpreter said, and who knows if it was accurate, there was so much confusion that the whole thing ended up in some very sharp exchanges. I’m afraid the officer Lord Hood chose was of a somewhat short temper.’

  ‘Foolish.’

  ‘Mehmet Pasha needs to be spoken with directly, not through another, first to reassure him of His Majesty’s friendship added to a discreet reminder of the power that represents. It may be that we will be obliged to bribe him, which requires some indication of the level of such.’

  ‘There is another way.’

  ‘Do not think it has not been considered, but Sir William must have the strength to beat the French now snug in Toulon, he cannot have diversions in other parts of the Mediterranean that draw off even one of our line of battle ships.’

  ‘If he’s that much of a threat?’

  Toomey scoffed. ‘The man’s a distraction at best, which is why we seek another avenue besides a show of force.’

  ‘There must be others you can ask.’

  ‘True there are post captains who have some facility with French but they would not take kindly to being sent away on what is something of a modest task with a potential fleet action in the offing. You are a more fitting person if for no other reason than your present unemployed status.’

  The truth of that had to be acknowledged; every sailor in King George’s Navy thirsted to be part of a successful fleet action – the Glorious First had made them all jealous – and there was a very high chance of one here in the Mediterranean in the coming weeks.

  ‘So we will send a smaller vessel and a non-post captain. It struck me that if Lord Hood were still present he might engage you for such an embassy. Sir William requires the same service and I wish to suggest to him that you should undertake it.’

  ‘At least this time my court martial is over.’

  ‘Touché.’

  ‘I am pleased you do not pretend not to know what I am talking about.’

  Toomey stopped and looked Pearce right in the eye. ‘I advise the admiral, sir, but I do not command him.’

  There was a huge temptation to ask the Irishman to elaborate then but it was stifled by one certainty; he would not say anything that would be a criticism of his employer, a man upon whom he depended. As well there were certain matters nagging at his attention, not least that this conversation was happening not long after the arrival of Ralph Barclay.

  ‘Mr Pearce, I acceded to your request regarding your late crew in order that you would accept my bona fides. I am tasked to solve the problem for Admiral Hotham whom, I can assure you, while he might accept you could be the perfect choice for a problem left for him to deal with by Lord Hood, he will not ask himself. Indeed he may take some persuading.’

  ‘Just as well,’ Pearce snapped; it was just as well the sod had no idea he was after him for a conspiracy to allow Barclay to commit perjury, or was that still the case? ‘Lord Hood had this in mind, you say?’

  ‘He did, but failed to act upon it prior to his departure. Sir William will dictate his letter to the Pasha using the same quill as Lord Hood, that of Mr Brooks, the under clerk who came from Victory, who has excellent French.’

  ‘Then send him.’

  ‘He is desk man and not made of the stuff required, Mr Pearce. Besides his duties in the flagship means he cannot be spared. The vessel chosen will proceed to the Adriatic via Naples, where certain requests must be passed on to King Ferdinand by Ambassador Hamilton …’

  Pearce heart leapt; he nearly repeated Naples and Hamilton but stopped himself.

  ‘… before proceeding to the Gulf of Ambracia to treat with Mehmet Pasha. The captain chosen to head the mission is one Henry Digby, who has just been promoted into a fourteen-gun brig.’

  ‘Was that your doing too?’ Pearce cut in.

  ‘I thought it might facilitate the conversation we are having.’ Toomey paused to give his next words real effect. ‘Which is why he now commands the men who were so recently under you.’

  ‘Have you ever read Machiavelli, Mr Toomey?’

  ‘If you are asking me if I have the ability to get done that which needs to be done, Mr Pearce, then I think you have just answered yourself.’

  It was the opportunity to visit Naples that was the key for Pearce but he could not say so and then there were other matters to consider, which required time to reflect. Somehow he had to put up some kind of show of reluctance and only one came to mind.

  ‘If I am going to agree then Admiral Hotham must ask me personally.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘If he does not you must find someone else.’

  Toomey’s shoulders slumped then and he abruptly stopped his pacing. ‘You put it high, sir.’

  ‘I put it as I require.’

  ‘I cannot guarantee that he will agree.’

  ‘I am sure Machiavelli would have found a way. I will wait in the wardroom.’

  Which he did not do immediately; waiting till Toomey was in the great cabin he sought out the fellow called Brooks, a man he had come across in his dealings with Lord Hood. Looking up from a sheaf of reports it was clear that the interruption was unwelcome; that did not faze Pearce who made a casual enquiry regarding his facility with French. That established he mentioned Mehmet Pasha and asked Brooks if he had ever communicated with him.

  ‘What is it to you?’ the clerk asked, adding a sniff of disapproval. ‘I do not discuss official business outside the confines of those officers entitled to know about it, of which you sir, are not one.’

  ‘Lord Hood mentioned a fellow by that name to me.’

  ‘I cannot think why.’

  Never friendly to this kind of functionary Pearce had to force himself to be pleasant. ‘It was, I thought, a matter that troubled him.’

  ‘It was,’ came with an undertone that it was none of his business. ‘Now it falls to Sir William to deal with it. If you wish to know more I should enquire of him!’

  ‘Just showing an interest, Mr Brooks.’

  He left the man wondering on that and made for the wardroom to examine what was being proposed from every angle of which he could think, the thought of Naples a constant intrusion, given he would have a chance of getting ashore and seeing Emily. Henry Digby disapproved of their relationship but then he had no idea she was there, that being a secret Pearce would try to maintain. If he did have to reveal her presence there it would only be with a promise to tell no one.

  The person that must be kept from was of course her husband. It was too much of a coincidence that he was now part of Hotham’s fleet. How could the man think that he could get Emily back, indeed he was exposing himself the ridicule he so feared by even trying? Had he told Hotham of his quest? Did the admiral know of how much trouble Pearce could cause and not just for Barclay?

  Toomey had gone to a great deal of trouble to arrange matters, but that only became suspicious if certain other pieces of a very tangled enigma fell into place and Pearce could envisage no way in which they would. Brooks had as near as damn it confirmed what Toomey had said so the need for the mission existed; he did have the necessary language skills and was free to be sent.

  In the face of no certain knowledge, John Pearce was left with speculation and the prospect of a possible interview with Hotham so there was a very good chance it would all come to nothing. If not then that would be the time to decide. When
the summons came, delivered by a midshipman messenger in a less than discreet manner, he left the wardroom knowing every eye was boring into his back trying to guess the reason.

  He entered the cabin to find the admiral staring out of his casement windows and as yet seemingly unprepared to acknowledge his visitor. Pearce took in the nature of the well-appointed cabin; the highly polished furniture, the deep red leather of the chairs and casements, the large bowl of fruit that stood as a centrepiece on the round table obviously employed as a place to work.

  The cabin was dominated by a full-length portrait of the man himself in a heavy velvet cloak, the star and sash of his Order of the Bath set against a snow-white waistcoat and breeches. Hotham was a good-looking man if short, and in his representation confident, his eyes as blue as his admiral’s coat, his wig as bleached as the clouds that scudded across the sky behind him, the cheeks full and well fed. The face was, if not pale, free of the ravages of a life spent at sea and Pearce recalled that of every naval representation he had seen – admittedly not many – the countenance of the sitter had been made more pallid than reality. Another feature was the look into the distance, eyes fixed on some object not visible to those it aimed to impress.

  Hotham finally spoke without turning round. ‘I doubt you have any idea how unpleasant I find this.’

  Then let us put you to the test Pearce thought. ‘It is my sincere hope that it is wrenching at your vitals, sir.’

  ‘Sir Hyde Parker told me of the way you used to address Lord Hood. I always swore if you talked to me in a like manner then I would see you keelhauled.’ That was embellishment and Pearce took it as such, declining to respond, which obliged Hotham to speak on. ‘However, the needs of the service must take precedence over my feelings. I need the same qualities that so impressed Lord Hood and if it must be me who asks you to volunteer for the task Toomey outlined to you then so be it.’

  Circumlocution Pearce thought and he was tempted to force Hotham to ask in a less equivocal manner. But that would only engender more hot air so he gave an answer that contained his own qualifications.

  ‘Since I doubt you wish to advance my career in any other way I am near bound to accept.’

  ‘Gracious,’ Hotham sighed, in a tone full of sarcasm. ‘If it was anything vital you are not the man I would to entrust with it. I hope you will be satisfied to deal with Toomey from this moment on?’

  ‘He will be the lesser to two evils.’

  Hotham tried to keep the anger out of his voice, but he failed. ‘That will be all, lieutenant.’

  Passing Toomey, who was sat outside at his work desk, Pearce just nodded as he passed, keeping a smile off his face till his back was square on to the clerk. His next stop was to beard the purser of HMS Britannia to secure from him replacement possessions for those he had been obliged to leave aboard Larcher.

  He required a sea chest and one was produced that had, burnt out, the initials of the previous owner, with how it had come to be free for transfer neither volunteered nor asked for. It would be the property of some deceased officer or midshipman and bought by the purser when the poor soul’s goods were auctioned.

  Pearce needed new linen, breeches and a blue coat that had not suffered from the sun, his own being more sky blue now than navy and these came from the same source. It need not be spilt blood that had caused the demise; life aboard a warship was dangerous, land service more so, while disease and accident carried off more people than battle. When Pearce had what he required the sea chest was near full and the bill amounted to a tidy sum to be paid.

  ‘Send the account up to Mr Toomey,’ was his cheery response. ‘He will reimburse you.’

  His next call was on the officer of the watch, to ask for a boat to take him to HMS Flirt and a servant to be sent to the purser to gather up his new chest and fetch it to the entry port and so he would not be in the way he went to the side and looked out at the fleet. Putting his hand in his pocket he felt the letters Toomey had passed to him, which had him going back to talk to the man stood by the binnacle

  ‘Before I depart I enquired of a Midshipman Toby Burns earlier on …’

  The lieutenant on duty did what, for Pearce, was a strange thing; he looked around as if not wishing to be overheard, that followed by the kind of wink that hinted at some shared knowledge, which the fellow it was aimed certainly did not have.

  ‘Passed midshipman, you mean.’

  ‘Do I?’

  He was about to ask to for clarification when the mid who had been sent to organise his boat returned and barked at his back in a voice that could have been heard in the tops.

  ‘Boat’s awaiting you, sir, and your dunnage is already aboard.’

  Pearce shrugged; Burns he could find and deal with on his return.

  ‘Couldn’t for the life of me look him the eye, Toomey. Not sure if I had, whether I would have laughed or lost my temper at the manner in which he addressed me. The arrogance of the fellow is astounding.’

  ‘He does not lack for self-regard, for which we must be thankful, it being a form of Achilles Heel. Now, sir, we must discuss and compose the message we are to send to Mehmet Pasha.’

  That got a wolfish smile from Hotham. ‘I’m beginning to enjoy this game.’

  ‘I urge care, sir, for there many a slip betwixt cup and lip.’

  ‘There can be none once they weigh.’

  Toomey joined the admiral at his table with quill, ink and parchment and together they composed the message they thought would meet their needs, all of it in plain English, signed with a flourish by Hotham before being sanded then sealed, a superscription being added to the effect it was to be opened only by the person to it was addressed; Son Excellance; Mehmet Pasha.

  The next task was to write out special orders for Henry Digby – he had his destination from Holloway – and in these it was made plain that he was to use Lieutenant Pearce as an envoy and to take no part in the negotiation himself. He was admonished at no time to risk HMS Flirt or the complement thereof and while he was free to take advantage of any opportunity that presented itself on his return voyage, with the caveat of excessive risk underlined, he was to ignore such temptations on his way to the Gulf of Ambracia, failure to do so being at his peril.

  ‘Do we wish to seal his orders sir, until he is at sea?’

  Hotham pondered on that for several seconds before seeing the sense of Toomey suggestion. Anything that might have Pearce becoming concerned had to be avoided.

  Toomey then sealed the document and wrote upon it: Not to be opened till south of Cap Bonifacio before calling for a midshipman to take a boat to HMS Flirt and deliver them immediately to Captain Digby.

  Toby Burns got to HMS Brilliant before the return of Taberly and he was aware that his arrival was not met with universal approbation; there were too many who knew Burns of old.

  ‘Turds float and that little guttersnipe is the living mark of truth.’

  This was the contribution of one Martin Dent, who had been the ship’s drummer boy under Barclay and one of those present the night John Pearce had been pressed; from being Pearce’s enemy he had become more than a friend.

  ‘Sure he is that, Martin,’ opined Blubber Booth, ‘but we are goin’ to have to treat him as a gent.’

  ‘Hard mate,’ Martin protested.

  ‘Captain’s barge in the offing,’ called a voice, ‘look lively.’

  And the whole ship’s company did just that; they had not seen much of Captain Taberly but they had seen enough.

  ‘Holy Christ,’ Rufus exclaimed as he looked over the hammock nettings of HMS Flirt. ‘Do you see who is in yonder boat?’

  That had then all looking and it was a welcome sight, for none doubted there still being a crew was the doing of John Pearce; how could there be any other reason than his coming to serve, especially with him coming aboard with a sea chest.

  Pearce was examining Flirt with a now practised eye, noting her low flush decked lines and the slightly raked mainmast, part of a
top hamper that could, for her size, carry a great deal of canvas; everything about her lines spoke of a fast sailing and easy to manoeuvre vessel that, with her fourteen cannon, would make for a formidable opponent to anything near her size.

  Closer to he could see that she had sound looking scantlings and had been scraped and painted regularly in a blue that went a great way to matching the colour of the sea on a sunny day or the now faded broadcloth coat in the sea chest, his deliberations set aside as the man coxing his boat called out to announce his arrival.

  Henry Digby, put aside the unopened orders he had been weighing in his hand to come on deck, alerted to the approach by his new bosun, Mr Bird, so he was by the gangway when Pearce’s boat crunched alongside, which earned those men rowing a stream of abuse from a crew who had adopted the brig in the same way that they felt about Larcher. The grass coming buggers from the flagship were told to mind their ways.

  ‘Belay that,’ Digby called, but without much ire. He stood and waited still Pearce stepped out and, covering the short haul from boat to planking by means of the man ropes and three steps, then raised his hat to the quarterdeck. ‘Welcome aboard, John.’

  The informality was noted and not least by the person on the receiving end who thought it boded well for what he needed Digby to agree to. The crew within earshot were just as pleased, the closest those who had taken delivery of the sea chest, for if these two officers were friendly and got on their life was likely to be easier.

  Pearce took in quickly the sight of a man he had not really seen for an age and registered little change. Digby was not as tall as him and of a darker countenance, with the air of being slightly plump in both cheeks and belly, which was odd for he was abstemious in matter of food and drink if far from an abstainer.

  ‘Take Mr Pearce’s dunnage to his cabin,’ Digby ordered. ‘John, I invite you to join me in my cabin for a drink.’

  ‘Delighted.’

  That did not last longer than the pouring added to the fact that Digby, when out of sight of the crew, was far from happy, a sign that Pearce quickly picked up. He distracted himself by a comparison of space, the cabin being larger than that of Larcher but a cubicle compared to Hotham’s, added to which it was furnished in a very basic fashion, uncovered chairs a plain deal desk and solid wood and varnished seating on the casements.