“I’m vastly obliged to you Sir,” declared the other gentleman, wiping a long blade on the coat of the man on the floor and then sliding it into his walking cane with a snap. “I’d been loosing steadily as had your friend, but could not see how they were cheating. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Laurence Grahame, travelling independently to Chester as a guest of friends in that city.”
Merriman bowed. “Lieutenant Merriman Sir. My friend, though I scarcely know him, is Captain Saville.” He turned to the innkeeper who had appeared from somewhere and was wringing his hands and babbling some nonsense about villains using his respectable establishment to try and rob decent people.
“Pull yourself together man, for goodness sake, and throw out this wretched fellow who is bleeding all over your floor. Then whilst we sit by the fire and discuss these events, you can collect the money scattered about the floor and give it to these gentlemen. Then you can bring each of us a good measure of your best brandy, to my account.”
The three of them settled down together and after the usual pleasantries the conversation turned to the subject of card cheats, general villains and highwaymen. Coaches were frequently stopped on the more lonely stretches of road by highwaymen looking for easy pickings from wealthy travelers.
“Of course such rogues must be desperate to do what they do, for they would be hanged if caught” remarked Mr. Grahame, “although I’m sure that some of them do it for pure devilry or the thrill of adventure”.
“Such people are often given the choice between hanging or imprisonment or being pressed into the King’s service”, said Merriman. “Heaven knows the navy always needs more men, though I’m not sure that those who choose the navy realise what a hard life they are in for as the punishments at sea can be harsh for any wrong doing”.
The conversation soon became more general with Merriman and Saville finding much in common to discuss. Grahame was more reserved though when the talk turned to politics and the possibilities of war with France he became quite eloquent.
The following morning, as the passengers gathered for breakfast, the doctor enquired about the shot he had heard the previous evening. “As there was no further disturbance I judged it wiser to stay upstairs after calming my daughter who was rather alarmed.”
“Nonsense Father, I was not in the least alarmed. Indeed what you did was to stop me coming down to see what was going on.”
There was excited discussion for a few moments while the lawyer explained what had happened, but the need to fortify themselves for the continuing journey ahead caused the hum of voices to be replaced by the rattle of cutlery and the scurrying footsteps of the servants bringing more steaming dishes to the table.
Merriman finished his meal, a modest one by the standards of the day, a naval officer’s stomach not being used to such rich fare, to find the dark eyes of Miss Simpson fixed upon him. She was in no way embarrassed to be seen to be studying him, but having gained his attention immediately spoke. “I am pleased that you and these other gentlemen are none the worse for your adventure of last night Lieutenant, I’m only sorry that we missed all the excitement”
“Little enough excitement Ma’am, it was over in a very few moments, really nothing for you to concern yourself with,” replied Merriman with a laugh.
“Maybe Sir, but I believe that if it were not for your actions these two gentlemen would have lost money to those fellows.”
“Indeed you are right Ma’am,” broke in Captain Saville, “I was losing heavily to the rogues, nearly all my allowance in fact. If the Lieutenant here had not such sharp eyes I would be in the difficult position of asking my father for more. He wouldn’t be pleased I assure you.”
“There you are then” said the young lady, “Mr. Merriman has amply displayed the qualities we have come to expect from our naval heroes.”
“Nothing heroic about it” mumbled Merriman, “I took the fellows by surprise, and to quote the proverb, ‘A man surprised is half beaten’”.
“Come Sir, you are too modest” she replied.
Merriman, beginning to tire of this repartee rose to his feet and with a muttered excuse he left the room, convinced that the woman was laughing at him.
Soon afterwards they all boarded the coach. The driver settled himself on his seat and gathered up the reins and his whip and at his shout the ostlers released their hold on the horses’ bridles and jumped clear. At the crack of the whip over their heads the eager horses lunged forward and the coach was on its way.
Chapter 2: Home on the Estate
Two days later the coach arrived in Chester and with a flourish of his whip the coachman turned the horses into the yard of the “Pied Bull” inn. The passengers alighted thankfully, straightening cramped backs and legs with relief.
A small crowd had gathered to welcome the travelers and Merriman saw his father at the back, somewhat aloof from the rest. A voice in his ear and a hand on his arm made him turn to find the soldier behind him. “I shall be in Chester for some time, quartered near the castle and I should be honoured if you were to allow me to entertain you to dinner one evening.”
“I would be delighted Sir, I’ll send a message to you when I’m settled. I’m sure you will be welcome to my father’s house in return.” With mutual expressions of goodwill, and a handclasp, the two friends parted.
Merriman pushed through the crowd suddenly realizing that the tall young fellow next to his father must be his younger brother Matthew, now nearly fourteen years old. As he embraced his father Merriman could not help but think how much older his father looked although the grasp of the hand was as strong and the great booming voice as powerful as ever it was when his father commanded one of His Majesty’s frigates.
“ ‘Fore God, James, it is good to see you again after so long, what, five years is it? Your mother and sister are waiting at home, but young Matthew here has been beside himself with excitement for a week or more, ever since we heard that you were coming home, and he would waste no time in meeting you.”
His father grasped him by the shoulders, looking keenly into his face. “Aye son, you’ve weathered some and you need feeding up a bit, but a few weeks of good home fare will soon put that right. Now then, who is this fellow? A sailor if I’m any judge.”
Owen was standing behind Merriman trying to look inconspicuous, but with his great breadth of shoulder and his air of confidence and competence it was no easy matter and his tarpaulin jacket and other clothing and the pigtail he affected marked him as a seaman to anyone.
“This is Owen, Father, topmast hand in Conflict. Somehow he attached himself to me when I was injured. Without him I do not believe that I would be alive today. He is worth three men in a fight.”
“Owen, eh! You’ll be a Welshman then! Good man, we’ll find room for you. I see that you have the Lieutenant’s baggage there already, so bring it along to the carriage and we’ll be off.”
Whilst all this was happening, Matthew was practically bouncing with excitement, pulling on his brother’s sleeve and asking questions one after the other without waiting for an answer. “Steady on there”, said Merriman, laughing, “I’ll tell you all in good time, but let’s get home first.”
Home was a small manor and estate near Burton, in the countryside north-west of Chester, which Captain Joseph Merriman, fortunate in the matter of prize money and a small inheritance, had purchased many years ago. It was a comfortable, late 17th century gentleman’s residence with stabling and coach house and the servants quarters properly concealed round the back of the main house. From the raised position of the house there was a fine view over to the wide estuary of the river Dee.
As the carriage turned into the driveway the grey-muzzled old dog lying on the front step of the house slowly climbed to his feet, sniffed the air and gave a tentative wag to his tail. Half blind as he was he knew that there was something new. When Merriman stepped down from the carriage the dog launched himself off the step, took a few confirmatory sniffs at Merriman’s leg a
nd then broke into a fit of wild barking, jumped up at him and then whirled round and round in a frenzy of excitement. As his master bent down to scratch his ears his tail wagged so violently that it seemed liable to fly off at any moment.
“Old Jack hasn’t forgotten you it seems,” said Matthew with a grin.
“No, he’s pleased to see me, that’s obvious,” replied Merriman, kneeling down to make more fuss of the dog, which rolled over on to his back and squirmed in a paroxysm of delight as the man scratched his stomach..
The sound of the carriage wheels on the driveway had brought servants running. The front door opened and Merriman immediately found himself in the midst of chaos. His mother was there with tears in her eyes and her arms open to enfold him, his sister Emily, now some seventeen years old and torn between capering round like an excited girl and showing herself to be a prim and proper young lady. Merriman disentangled himself from his mother, kissed and hugged his sister, made more fuss of old Jack and then tripped over one of several other dogs who, even though they did not understand why, thought it their duty to bark excitedly and get under everyone’s feet.
Merriman sat on the bottom step, laughing with pure happiness, the others all smiling and laughing with delight. He caught sight of Annie, his mother’s housekeeper and friend, silver haired now but as buxom and round cheeked as ever, standing in the doorway.
“Bless you Master James, I’m so happy to see you again. But you’re so thin! We must get some meat on those bones with some of my good cooking inside you.”
“I’m sure that if I stay here long I’ll get as fat as a pig.” He laughed, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek and then she bustled off into the depths of the house pushing the servants in front of her.
A growl from Jack diverted his attention and he turned to see his dog sniffing suspiciously at Owen’s trouser leg whilst the big sailor stood there hardly daring to move.
“All right Jack, he’s a friend, leave him alone,” said Merriman. “Owen, do you follow them into the house, and I warrant you’ll eat better than you have done for many a day.”
“Aye-aye Sir!” said Owen who had viewed all the greetings with amazement. The laughing lieutenant appearing to be another person from the serious disciplinarian who had been his captain in the brig Conflict. He disappeared into the depths of the house carrying his own small bundle of possessions.
“Now then, inside with you or we shall all freeze out here” called his father, “James will need to freshen up after the journey and then we can gather by the fire to hear of his adventures. Matthew, control yourself, your questions must wait awhile.”
In the house, as Merriman ascended the great staircase with his old dog struggling to keep up, the memories came flooding back of his childhood here, of how once he had been frightened of the serious faces looking down from the portraits on the walls; there his grandfather, old Admiral Elias Merriman, here his grandmother, who so the story went, came from a distinguished and noble family that had rejected her when she insisted on marrying the young Captain Merriman. And there at the turn of the stair, the newest portrait, that was his uncle Major Nathaniel Merriman who had fought and died with his regiment during the withdrawal of the British army from Boston to New York in the spring of 1776. That was sixteen years ago and the war with the colonies over these last nine years.
Some of the portraits showed men in full wigs, laces and ribbons of a past age, some in the sober garb of Cromwell’s soldiers, but there was no sailor until his grandfather. Merriman suddenly realized that neither of his parents had as yet sat for a portrait painter and he resolved there and then to persuade them to do so.
Here was his room just as he remembered it from his boyhood. From the window the glimpse of the sea off the estuary of the river Dee. His model boats were still there by the bed, built to fight imaginary sea battles on the local duck pond, that imagination fed by the tales told by his old grandfather, of wild deeds and terrible gales, of fights with pirates and savages under tropical skies, until his mind could foresee no other future than to be a naval officer.
When he returned downstairs he found the family gathered in the largest reception room of the house before a blazing log fire. Candles had been lit and the room was almost as bright as day. His father was pouring claret into some long stemmed glasses and passing them round, even to young Matthew. As they each sat or stood, holding their glasses he said “A toast to our returning hero, may he bring more honour to our name and end up as an admiral.”
“But Father, I’m no hero” protested Merriman.
“Not what I hear and read” retorted the elder Merriman, “We hear about it all eventually and I have the gazette posted to me regularly. As far back as the Battle of the Saintes your mettle was quite clearly revealed in Admiral Rodney’s despatch when he commended your actions; in a footnote I know, but that you came to his attention did no harm to your career I can tell you, especially as you were still only a midshipman.”
“Yes to be sure, but that was years ago and since then there has been little activity to provide opportunity for promotion – the war with the American colonies is over. France is busy with the guillotine and the revolution, and Spain is-------”
“Oh we know all that,” his father interrupted, “But we heard about the brilliant action against the privateers off the Malabar coast. Your captain was pleased enough with you to put you in the captured brig as prize-master and you were confirmed in command by the Admiral at the Cape of Good Hope before being sent back to England with despatches. Besides, you have been fortunate to be employed when so many fine officers have been on the beach on half pay since peace was signed.”
“That’s as maybe, but that’s all I’ve been doing for the last four years, carrying despatches, little more than a messenger really, and since then I have lost my ship Conflict and many good men and disobeyed orders into the bargain. If it had not turned out so well I could have been disgraced and sent home, the cripple that I am.” And he raised his bandaged left hand in emphasis. “What career will I have now?”
As if in understanding, Jack pressed against his leg and whined softly.
His mother took his hand in hers and said gently, “James, dear James, how bad is your hurt, you still have your hand and the use of your arm, that I can see.”
“Yes Mother, but it cannot grasp and hold anything with any strength and my arm has a piece out of it which prevents rapid movement; no, a bird with a broken wing I am and of no more use to the navy” he said bitterly.
His brother, who had been making heroic efforts to control his impatience cried out, “There are many officers with a hand, an arm or even a leg missing, who continue in the navy, James, why not you? And you have not yet told us what happened,-- was it cannon fire, a sword cut or did you ---------”
“All right I’ll give you the details, but I see that Annie is signalling that the meal is ready, so let us be about it for I must confess I’m famished.”
Over the meal the story of Merriman’s progress in the navy was re-lived. From his appointment as midshipman at the age of twelve to a frigate commanded by Captain Edwards, one of his father’s friends, his good fortune to be on Admiral Rodney’s flagship at the battle of The Saintes and his passing the examination for lieutenant at eighteen. After that his steady progress from fifth officer to third officer, dead men’s shoes really and then his appointment, with Rodney’s recommendation, as second officer on a frigate sailing for India.
As the servants quietly moved about removing the dishes and lighting fresh candles, young Matthew burst out, “James, I have been patient long enough. Can’t we hear how you were wounded and lost your ship?”
“Indeed you have, young man, and now you shall find out, but I think that your mother and sister should retire, as this is a tale of killing and bloodshed, not fit for a lady to hear.”
“James is right,” said his mother, “Come along Emily, we shall leave the men to it.” As the ladies left the room, the men settled
themselves more comfortably, their glasses recharged, and Merriman began.
“You know that I was captain of the Conflict for nearly four years, employed only to carry despatches and such, as fast as possible between England, Gibraltar, Jamaica or anywhere else the Admiralty directed. An uneventful and boring time it was until last April, when we were returning to Gibraltar from Cape Town. My orders were to make the fastest passage I could as the documents we carried were of extreme urgency. I was to avoid all other ships.”
“It was a glorious day and I had every sail set. The ship was fairly flying along, crashing through the waves with the spray bursting over the rail in clouds. I remember standing watching some of the hands helping the sailmaker stretch out a sail for repair; others were splicing, painting or doing some of the endless work needing to be done on a ship of war and we had even organised a shark fishing contest. Life aboard was going well, there had been no punishments for over three weeks and none of us had any idea of what was about to follow, but it happened this way......
Chapter 3: Merriman’s Court Martial
The scorching sun beat down from an almost cloudless sky and sparkled from the waves and spray as His Majesty’s brig Conflict crashed through the long Atlantic swell, the legacy of the north-westerly gale which the ship’s company had fought for the last three days.
The wind had since veered to the south west and Conflict was making good the time lost. The sunlit scene, and the strong wind on the larboard quarter made for conditions which should have delighted the heart of any seaman, but the officer dressed in grubby white trousers and faded, salt stained coat saw none of it.
Lieutenant James Merriman stared gloomily and unseeingly along the length of the main deck. When he took command of the ship he had such high hopes, and since then there had been nothing, absolutely nothing to break the monotony of life at sea. Oh, he knew he did his job efficiently, keeping the ship and crew ready for any eventuality, but all he and the ship had done for four years was to carry despatches. God, he was bored.
A Certain Threat (The Merriman Chronicles Book 1) Page 2
