Game of Bones

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Game of Bones Page 12

by David Donachie


  ‘I doubt they need my services now, brother,’ James replied. ‘You will not thank me for saying so, but you’ve become a mite transparent of late. If you see a ship with a British flag you run. Anything else and you attack.’

  ‘You’ve excluded the neutrals.’

  ‘I didn’t know, in your case, that there were any.’

  ‘Are you going to London?’

  ‘Eventually. But I have an acquaintance at Petersfield that I might drop in on. They live near General Murray and his wife. They were after me, offering a commission on our last run ashore.’

  The door opened and a slip of a girl entered bearing a tray, preceded by Mistress Blackett. James examined her closely, since the flaming fire plus the candles, throwing their light upwards, did nothing to hide her years, nor the scars of what must have been a very rough existence. She wasn’t old, but she was a hard woman, perhaps not through inclination but necessity. Yet she could exude kindness, even although it had to it a commercial tinge. She oversaw the clearing of their soup plates, fussed while the girl laid a course of stew and vegetables, then shooed her out of the room.

  ‘Pender has come back to us, carried between two of his old companions.’ She grinned, which in the light added a devilish hue to her heavily lined and powdered features. ‘He has a sweet voice, which I never guessed at.’

  ‘Drunk?’ asked Harry, who’d never guessed at it either.

  ‘As the proverbial lord, Captain Ludlow. I put him into a cot in the attic to sleep it off.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It ain’t no trouble, sir. Pender was always decent to me. Robbed half the houses in the town, but never this one.’

  ‘Will you join us in a glass of wine, madame?’ asked James, lifting up the decanter that lay to one side of the hearth. That produced a simpering noise. She was a lady who’d been called madame many times in her life, but rarely with such gentility.

  ‘Why, I’d be delighted, sir, though I can only stop for a mite since my parlour is full to bursting. And Jack Willett Payne is here, which means things are prone to turn boisterous.’

  ‘We’ve had a brief run-in with the good captain,’ James replied, his face expressionless. ‘He’s certainly one for forthright opinions.’

  ‘He’s forthright in all manner of things, sir, and a satyr to boot, especially in the article of virgins. And he will try and lure them away.’

  Taking a drink, Mary Blackett didn’t see the Ludlow brothers exchange rueful glances.

  ‘How long have you known Pender?’ asked Harry.

  She responded with a raucous laugh, which was magnified uncomfortably in the small room, then took a deep gulp of wine.

  ‘More years than I care to name. I knew him when he was new come to Portsmouth, a callow youth scratching the streets to make a crust. But he was a sweet lad, for all that, and I was happy to take him under my protection. That is, before he came upon his true callin’. There never was such a man for unpickin’ locks. It’s like he can talk to them. Mind, I was glad he ran for the sea. He got out the window with the law at the door, escaped by a whisker.’

  ‘One robbery too many,’ said James.

  ‘One friend too few. He would never bow the knee, sir. And Portsmouth is no different to any other town of a size. There’s folk here who saw it as their patch, an’ didn’t like it when someone worked on his own account, not, so to speak, giving them their due.’

  ‘Do those same people still exist?’ asked Harry, with just a hint of anxiety.

  ‘Never fear, sir. The turds that did for Pender are long transported, strung up by the neck or gone to Botany Bay. Not that matters have improved. Shit floats, gentlemen, and it was ever so. Others have risen to take their place, some of them people that Pender knew well enough. I dare say they are the ones that got him intoxicated. I will not opine for certain that the warrant is laid to rest. But I doubt it is still waiting to be served, so he is safe.’

  ‘Did you know his wife?’

  ‘I did, and she was at one time a sweet girl, if a touch overfond of gin. That’s what did for her in the end, if you leave out being poor. The town is full of navy wives in similar straits. Good women, with bairns, who can’t get a penny from the Paymaster to feed them. And if they do manage to see a pay warrant, they like as not have to walk to Chatham to cash it in. Captain Jack Willett Payne might curse those tars for mutinous dogs who’re taking French gold, and a person in business will not disagree to his face. But it is pure moonshine, sirs, and there’s few in Portsmouth who’d disagree with that. The very idea. Why a Jacobin in this town would stick out like a boil on a bear’s arse.’ She stood up, coquettishly touching her dress. ‘I thank you kindly, but I must be about my occasions, or they’ll start rending the furniture to bits.’

  Harry stood too. ‘Do I need to look in on Pender?’

  ‘Never. He’s sound. And well found enough too, I warrant, sailing with the famous Harry Ludlow.’

  Harry bowed his head slightly. ‘Hardly famous, Mistress Blackett.’

  ‘More’n you know, sir. Why, I had a lad here this very morning asking if you was in residence, and dying to know if he could have a place on your ship. His face fell when I told him it was laid up.’

  ‘I hope you didn’t tell him where,’ said Harry, a sharp note in his voice.

  The owner’s face creased suddenly, as though she was about to deliver an equally caustic reply. But either good sense or the business variety stopped her, and she forced herself to smile.

  ‘How could I, Captain Ludlow,’ she lied, ‘when I ain’t got the faintest notion of the answer?’

  James’s letters went off on the early morning coach to London. With a good road between the naval base and the capital, and regular stops to change horses, his mail, plus all the other post from Portsmouth, travelled one of the best routes in England, being carried over Putney Hill not long after the light began to fade. Collected by the postal franchisee at the Angel Inn, behind St Clement’s in the Strand, they were delivered to the various addresses before eight o’clock in the evening, where the reactions to the news that Harry Ludlow was home induced a remarkable result in three locations; the Sheriff’s room at the High Courts of Justice, the city offices of Cantwell’s Bank, and most tellingly at the house Harry had rented in Hanover Square.

  ‘Get me a horse messenger at once,’ barked Arthur Drumdryan, his habitual sang-froid completely deserting him as surely as he’d deserted his guests playing cards in the drawing room. The startled servant, normally as leisurely as his master, actually ran from the house, which caused the rest of the staff to speculate that the French had invaded. Meanwhile Lord Drumdryan was busy scribbling:

  Harry, there is no time for lengthy explanations. Your affairs are in a tangle, so much so that I cannot guarantee against a warrant having been already issued to apprehend you for debt still being in force. Cantwell’s Bank is, at this time, insolvent, with the owner himself enjoying the hospitality of Newgate Gaol. Notwithstanding his own actions he has engaged on your behalf in speculations that have left you penniless. His response to my challenge on this matter leads me to suspect that they are nothing short of fraudulent. If you have the freedom, get back to sea and head for the Downs. I will proceed to Deal and take rooms at the Three Kings. Contact me there, where I will be able to inform you in detail of what haste debars me from explaining now.

  ‘Where is that damned messenger?’ he shouted, as he sanded and sealed it, his voice echoing off the walls of the spacious hallway when that same shout was repeated within thirty seconds. The noise brought his wife to the head of the stairs, and she leant over the elegant circular banister to enquire what was amiss.

  ‘Government business, my dear,’ said Arthur, fighting to sound calm. Anne was pregnant again, and she knew nothing of Harry’s difficulties. ‘The usual thing of a man saying he will do something and failing. Normally it is not a matter of urgency, but on this occasion it is. Please rejoin our guests, and I will come as soon as I�
�ve got this message away.’

  His panting servant came through the door as Anne turned to comply. ‘I’ve sent a boy to Hanover Mews. The farrier there, Harper, has a lad who engages for this kind of work.’

  ‘You should have gone yourself,’ said Arthur icily. ‘Get upstairs and make sure Mr Dundas and his good lady are taken care of.’

  The sound of hoofs covered the clatter of the servant’s footwear as he ascended the stairs, and Arthur went out the front door on to the porch. The youthful horseman leant down to take the note, and the coin that went with it.

  ‘Portsmouth,’ said Arthur, passing both the sealed parchment and a golden guinea. ‘Can you read, laddie?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Ben Harper, sir,’ he replied, before patting his horse’s neck. His eyes gleamed with pride as he continued. ‘And this is my horse, Lightning, who has raced and won prizes on the Sussex Downs, mostly at Uppark.’

  Arthur had no interest in either the horse or its exploits.

  ‘The superscription is to a Mr Harry Ludlow, who is staying at a Mistress Blackett’s in the town. You will not be able to find it without assistance. The Fountain is the main hostelry, ask there for directions. Hand it only to Captain Ludlow or his brother James. No one else.’

  ‘I’ll do that, sir.’

  ‘And boy, ride that horse till it drops if necessary. I want no delay.’

  ‘Lightning won’t let you down, sir.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘Is it the mutiny, your honour?’ asked the boy, touching his hat and hauling on the reins to turn his horse’s head.

  ‘No,’ said Arthur bitterly, ‘it’s much more important than that.’

  Mr Frayne, who’d taken over the running of affairs at Cantwell’s Bank on behalf of the creditors, read James’s note with some interest, then sent straight to the Sheriff’s court for a bailiff. Bullen actually arrived from Bow Street within minutes, having set out to visit Frayne of his own volition. He in turn showed Frayne the letter he’d received, adding that it was sound policy to have folks in every seaport in the land who could keep their ears to the ground.

  ‘I have sent off a response that will catch the four of the morning coach to tell my man to keep the quarry in view.’

  Frayne held up both the letters. ‘Odd that they came in by the same post, Mr Bullen, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Not odd, your honour,’ replied Under-Sheriff Bullen. ‘I’d be minded to call it fortuitous.’

  ‘When will you leave yourself?’

  ‘As soon as duty permits, sir, which should be sometime tomorrow. I’ve collared many a sailor in my time, and I knows that, barring it being a Sabbath day, when they’s immune to being had up, time and tide are the enemy.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE MESSAGE came for Harry very early in the morning, while he was getting dressed, delivered personally by Admiral Parker’s flag-lieutenant, Leybourne.

  ‘You will appreciate, Captain Ludlow, that given the present emergency my commanding officer is busy. He would appreciate it if you could find your way to comply with his request, in what will be probably the only time he’ll have free today.’

  ‘I don’t quite understand your reference to the presence of Captain Illingworth.’

  ‘He spoke with Admiral Parker late last night. Given what Illingworth said it seemed proper to ask him to attend as well.’

  The merchant captain had been quick, so much so that Harry wondered if he’d come straight to Portsmouth once he’d landed, without going to London to inform his employers of their loss. And given the shortage of time, what had he done with the remainder of his men?

  ‘I cannot see what possible information I can add to that of Illingworth. After all, he came face to face with this Tressoir fellow. I only saw his ship for the very briefest of moments, and through the mist.’

  ‘I was given to understand you had spied the corvette the night before.’

  ‘I spied a corvette, Lieutenant. I have no guarantee it was the same one.’

  Harry was equivocating and both men knew it, just as they knew that a man like Sir Peter Parker would not be inviting him to an early breakfast unless he intended to ask him for something. Given that his brother, Sir William, and his family were being held for ransom in a Normandy port, and that with the mutiny every frigate in the fleet was required for service, it didn’t take a genius to work out what turn it would take. The temptation to decline here and now was strong. But that would be seen as a slight, and Admiral Parker was powerful enough to make that unwise. Harry would want to go to sea again, with the same exemptions for his crew he’d enjoyed previously. To make an enemy of any senior officer was foolish. But the admiral commanding at Portsmouth held a special office, very close to that of the First Lord himself.

  ‘I will attend upon Sir Peter within the hour.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. And your brother?’

  ‘I think not. He’s still asleep. But please be so good as to inform your admiral, Lieutenant, in the strongest possible terms, that I have only just returned from a two-year cruise. I have neither the inclination nor the means to proceed straight back to sea again.’

  Leybourne pulled a gold watch from his waistcoat pocket and examined it. ‘If you could be with him in thirty minutes, sir, rather than the hour, I’m sure he’d be extremely indebted to you.’

  In the event, it took Harry slightly longer, since he had another visitor, Valentine Joyce. He was reluctant to come upstairs, so Harry went down to greet him and took him into Mary Blackett’s parlour. The room had a stale smell, a mixture of human perspiration, drink, tobacco, and cheap scent. Joyce had his woollen cap in one hand, and swept the other through his fair hair as they entered, then wrinkled his nose.

  ‘Give me a decent bilge anytime.’

  The voice, in conversation, was less strident than the day before. Harry took the opportunity to study his features. Much the same height as himself, he had a lankier body. The face, goodlooking, also had well-defined bones, with wrinkles around the corners of his blue eyes that denoted a man easily amused.

  ‘If I don’t ask you to sit down, Mr Joyce, it’s for the care of your health rather than any lack of courtesy. This is a haven for the lowest type of King’s officer. I don’t doubt the very chairs in here are poxed by being occupied by such people.’

  ‘I had to come ashore this morning, Captain Ludlow, and I wanted to take the chance to thank you again for what you’re proposing for poor Havergood.’

  ‘I spoke with him just before the trouble started. He seemed to me to be a good man. The very best that the service could boast.’

  ‘He was. Just as Mr Bover is.’

  ‘Yet Havergood was prepared to mutiny,’ said Harry, trying to disguise the fact that what should have been a statement was actually a question. He saw the petty officer stiffen. ‘Forgive me, Mr Joyce. I am of a curious nature.’

  ‘There’s no mystery, Captain Ludlow. The men are fair sick of being treated like pigs, that’s all.’

  Mystery intrigued Harry, since he had never implied that one existed. ‘Well, let me say how much I admire you all. I know that a man was killed yesterday. But I’m also aware of how close we came to a bloodbath. That man on the rope, as well as those men on the foredeck who’d turned round that gun—had they acted they would have caused just such a thing.’

  ‘And ruined us,’ Joyce replied, looking away. ‘Which would have played right into the hands of diehards on the Board of Admiralty. Sometimes, Captain, you have more trouble with your own than you do with your enemies.’

  ‘Will you be able to maintain it?’

  Joyce grinned, proving the provenance of those wrinkles round his eyes. ‘You won’t need to fund me a plot if we don’t. They’ll throw me to the fish.’

  Nevertheless, some of the strain Joyce was under showed as he said that, particularly in the clenching of his jaw, and observing that made Harry reluctant
to probe further.

  ‘One day, when this is all over, I’d love to know how you achieved it.’

  There was no need to elaborate. Joyce, who looked him straight in the eye, knew exactly what he meant. How had they combined and communicated with such effect as to act as one, and to impose enough control so that the hotheads were contained?

  ‘Perhaps, one day, Captain Ludlow, I’ll tell you.’

  Harry responded with a soft laugh. ‘Why is it that I think not, Mr Joyce, that you will take the secrets of what you have done to the grave?’

  Joyce allowed himself the slightest of smiles, as if in confirmation.

  ‘Speaking of that, you must tell me how much I owe for poor Havergood’s funeral.’

  ‘I asked that the bill be sent here.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘I’ll bid you good day, Captain Ludlow, and just say again that you have the thanks of every man before the mast in the entire fleet.’

  ‘That seems rather excessive.’

  ‘It ain’t, sir,’ said Joyce emphatically. ‘Believe me it ain’t. And it has nothing to do with burials. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll go out the back way, instead of the front.’

  ‘Be my guest,’ Harry replied.

  The hall clock struck the hour as he opened the door, reminding him that he was late for his appointment with Admiral Parker. A minute later, he rushed out of the front door, heading for the dockyard. In doing so he bumped straight into a tall dark man who, for reasons best known to himself, had stepped right out into his path. Physical by nature, and in a hellfire rush, Harry brushed him aside with an apology that lost much force by being aimed away from the victim.

 

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