‘So what about Richard Parker?’
‘Sounds to me, him being a quota man himself, that things didn’t work out quite the same at the Nore.’ Joyce looked up, his eyes anxious. ‘But don’t you go getting the notion that those bone players were Jacobins.’
Harry described, more fully, what had happened when Flowers had played his bones in the Chequers.
‘What’s so odd about that?’ Joyce snapped. ‘You know as well as I do that there are dozens of Frenchies serving in the fleet. They are in the main as decent men as you could meet, just like the rest of the men who mutinied, and that includes the Paddies who are blood-sworn United Irishmen.’
‘Them too?’
‘They only wanted justice, and they would have fought any French ship that poked its nose out of Brest. The question I now have to ask you, Captain Ludlow, is, knowing all this, what are you going to do with it?’
‘I don’t know, Mr Joyce, and that is the complete and honest truth.’
‘Because I don’t want the Navy coming back into our Spithead ships looking for those men. All might look happy on the surface, but six out of ten officers in this fleet are just itching to take revenge. If those sods at the Nore make a mess of things, which God knows they look set to do, then the nooses will be rigged in the Channel Fleet as well as at Sheerness.’
‘You asked me what I was going to do, Mr Joyce.’
‘Well?’
‘Try and stop it, what else?’
‘On your own.’
Harry smiled. ‘I’d love to take you with me, but I doubt that would be wise.’
Both men stood up, with Joyce replacing his woollen cap.
‘I will say nothing of this to Bridport. But there is one thing you must tell me.’
‘What?’
‘The code that follows the rattle.’
Joyce thought for a moment before replying. ‘I need your word that you’ll take it to the grave. Any man coming aboard this one ship, ill-disposed, could hang a round two dozen with that information.’
‘I swear.’
‘You play the rhythm, and if the man you’re doing it to is one of the original mutineers, he responds with the words, ‘Sounds good enough for a purser’s death rattle.’’
‘You asked that a way be found to avoid your fleet being asked to go to the Nore.’
‘I did,’ said Bridport, unhappily. ‘And if you’ll share with me what you found out from Joyce I’d be obliged.’
Harry smiled, so much so that it was almost a grin. ‘The good news, Admiral, is that he had nothing to tell me that I did not already know.’
That earned Harry a testy response. ‘You’ve failed to enlighten me about that, either.’
‘What I can say, Admiral Bridport, is that if I can get back to the Thames Estuary in double quick time, I can ease your mind regarding those orders you’re afraid to receive. All I ask from you is a loan of some of your best hands, and a chance to raid the Queen Charlotte’s cable store and sail locker.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
HARRY felt ridiculously conspicuous standing on the grassy knoll on the eastern tip of the Isle of Grain in his heavy black cloak, as if that article of clothing alone, on a warm June night, made him stand out like a conspirator. To have his hat pulled low and a scarf on as well only made matters worse. He had no idea if the note he’d sent to Richard Parker, in theory banned from any contact with the shore, had reached the beleaguered President of the Nore delegates.
He could see the residue of the mutinous fleet from where he stood, half the ships flying white flags to denote their intention to go over to the Government. The rest, very few now, still sported the red flags of mutiny. Turning to look up the Thames, the vessels that were loyal, or had already deserted the insurrection, were berthed. Lights blazing all over, they were hives of activity so that those downriver should know that their days were numbered, and that official retribution was about to fall on them unless they capitulated.
Harry, in a ship that looked very like its old self, had arrived back in the Downs, having beat up against wind and current to complete the journey from Ushant in ten exhausting days, happy to find both the Lothian and the Good Intent at anchor. He’d taken care to time his return during the hours of darkness, and in the two hours just before dawn, when the town was at its most somnolent, they’d shipped the centipedes back to their resting place in St Leonard’s Church, Harry travelling on to the Griffin’s Head so that when Naomi Smith awoke he could tell her the good news.
Any temptation to rest had to be put aside, though he did visit the Three Kings to post letters to Arthur and James and to look in on the convalescent Illingworth to check on his progess. Then he was off to Walmer Castle, heart in mouth and feeling like an errant schoolboy. The relief when he found that neither Villiers nor William Pitt was in residence was tremendous. Lady Hester Stanhope had been as cold as ice as she took the letters he gave her; firstly for leaving her cousin high and dry, and secondly for sending him on a wild-goose chase after the smugglers’ galleys. It seemed the entire clerical establishment of upper Deal was threatening to sue the young man for defamation, after he had accused them of engaging in a conspiracy to hide the contrabandiers’ boats.
But she thawed somewhat when he told her that he had information that was vital, and would bring the Nore mutiny to a complete and satisfactory end. Harry, standing before her, with Pender looking on, had begun to wonder when he could stop telling lies. Subterfuge was one thing, and he enjoyed the use of it. But ever since he’d met Villiers outside Walmer Castle it seemed he’d done nothing but engage in an increasing mountain of falsehood.
Standing here on the Isle of Grain, another flat expanse very like Sheppey, he felt little different. The news was bad, a fact that was made known to him as soon as he took the Good Intent back into her berth at Faversham. It got worse as he travelled to Sheerness. Every person he met seemed eager to tell him how quickly the whole uprising was imploding, a collapse so swift and comprehensive Harry wondered if he’d be in time to achieve anything. Added to that was the frustrating knowledge that he had no clear idea of what he was trying to do.
The soft whistle from Pender told him that Parker was approaching along the track from a beach near Wallend. Looking along in the gathering gloom he was surprised to see that the man was alone. And his general demeanour, shoulders hunched, head on his chest, hands behind his back, spoke volumes for the state of affairs aboard the ships. Harry went down to meet him, well aware that in such a flat, featureless landscape there was little chance of the meeting taking place entirely unobserved.
‘Captain Ludlow,’ said Parker, his voice as feeble as his bearing.
‘I had hoped not to witness this,’ Harry replied, waving his hand over the reaches of the River Thames to include both sets of ships.
‘Neither had I, sir. I had every wish to be back at my duty, serving in a navy where men were treated better than cattle.’
‘I’ve heard so many tales of what went on, Mr Parker, that it is hard to tell fact from fiction. As we walk, I would be obliged if you gave the true picture.’
Parker lifted his head and laughed. His skin had that dark, almost parchment hue of someone with a heavy growth of beard, an impression heightened by dark eyes and heavy brows. In the last of the daylight, as they headed west, he looked slightly demonic.
‘You were right, Captain Ludlow. We have lost. Look yonder and you’ll see.’
‘I see white flags over what look like royal standards.’
Parker laughed again, but it was a sound that contained a fair measure of despair. ‘We fired a salute on the King’s birthday, did you know that? All to show we were loyal to our sovereign and our people. But they won’t be happy unless they hang us all.’
‘The blockade of London turned the people against you.’
‘It turned the rich merchants against us. You don’t need to read Tom Paine to know that in this country the common people are ignored. Besides, it was that or starve.’
‘Capt’n,’ hissed Pender, who was bringing up the rear. Harry and Parker turned to look at him, then followed his pointing finger. They saw the sails break out on a ship of the line, only visible because they were white enough to penetrate the gathering twilight.
‘The Standard,’ said Richard Parker, sadly. More tellingly there was no surprise or anger in his voice. Just resignation. ‘They’ve been bickering aboard that ship all day.’
‘It’s not unanimous, then?’
‘Never in life. There’s a battle being raged inside every hull, as some men fight to keep us as we are, against those who are trying to save their necks by surrender. You see, Captain Ludlow, it turns out we were too soft. We should have strung up the worst officers, like Bligh, and sent the rest ashore.’
‘But you didn’t.’
‘And do you know why? Because if we had decided to take the ships out and hand them over to the French, some men insisted we needed the officers to steer and navigate the damned things. Funny, ain’t it, we can’t even surrender to the King’s enemies, without we need the use of the King’s officers.’
‘I cannot believe you would have done that.’
‘You’re right.’ Parker pointed to the loyal ships spread upriver, across the channel. ‘But I don’t think they would agree with you. We’ve had schemes to go to Ireland, others that would take us to the Americas, no one cares much what part, as long as there is wine, women, and warmth. There were even those who thought the best place to impose ourselves was off the Tower of London.’
‘And you?’
‘Knowing what needs to be done, and having the courage to do it, are not often in the same heart.’
‘That ship is pulling out of the line,’ Pender called softly.
Parker looked at it for a moment. ‘I just hope Wallace doesn’t keep to his pledge.’
‘Who is he, and what was the promise?’
‘Wallace is the Standard’s leading delegate. One of the cleverest of the lot of us, he was. He said he was going to shoot himself, showed me the gun an’ all, rather than surrender himself to a naval court.’
‘Which is what you must do.’
Parker looked at him, his dark eyes suddenly unfriendly. ‘What makes you think I have any power to do anything? Don’t be fooled by my title. They might have styled me President, but that wasn’t worth an ounce of purser’s rations.’
‘So if you didn’t control things, Parker, who did?’
That made the look even more hostile. Harry pulled Flowers’s bones from his pocket, hoping that he could reproduce the rhythm he had practised under the owner’s supervision. Slipping them between the appropriate fingers and thumb attracted Parker’s eyes, which widened slightly, only to open completely, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead, by the time Harry started to play. When Parker didn’t respond, Harry added the rest himself.
‘Sounds good enough for a purser’s death rattle.’
‘Where did you learn that?!’
Harry opened his mouth to say ‘Joyce,’ then shut it again. No point in extending trust where it wasn’t necessary, especially to a man who if he didn’t escape, or take the route of his fellow delegate Wallace, would soon be in chains.
‘Never mind where I learnt those words. It’s enough that I have.’
‘To what purpose?’
‘What has the government offered you?’
‘Surrender without terms.’
‘No guarantees about punishment.’
Richard Parker spat out his reply. ‘None!’
‘What if I could get you some terms, would that help?’
‘How are you going to do that, Captain Ludlow?’
‘My brother-in-law works for Henry Dundas. I have asked him to meet me at the Angel in Rochester tonight. I’ve also had dealings with a nephew of William Pitt. He will be here, if he responds to my summons, first thing tomorrow morning.’
‘And I thought you might be an honest man,’ Parker said bitterly.
‘I’ve told more lies in the last three weeks than I have in the rest of my life, Parker. But not one of them has been aimed at doing you, or your mutiny, down. And if it has failed here, in a way that it did not at Spithead, then you and the men you lead must look to your own actions for the cause. My only concern now is to keep a promise I have made to two men, one an admiral, the other a sailor like you. If this does not end peaceably, the next thing you’ll see coming upriver are the ships of the Channel Fleet.’
‘How do you know all this?’
‘It makes no odds,’ Harry barked.
‘Keep your voices down,’ hissed Pender. ‘You can be heard in Sheerness.’
Both men turned round to retrace their steps, Pender stopping to let them by before falling in behind them again. ‘Accept that I know, Parker, and that my intentions are honourable. There has been enough blood spilt in this mutiny without we add to it with a pitched battle.’
‘It’s come to something when the Spithead lads would fire into the ships of men of their own stamp.’
Harry lied again, reassuring himself that it was in a good cause. The last thing he wanted to tell Parker was that the Channel Fleet might do the exact opposite. It would only encourage his resistance.
‘Now can you see how far beyond the bounds of sense you have gone?’
‘I saw that within the first week,’ Parker replied wistfully. ‘Why do you think I went alone, practically on my knees, to see that stuck-up bastard Spencer?’
‘Then why didn’t you stop it?’
‘Because I lacked the power.’
‘I repeat the earlier question. If you didn’t have it, who did?’
‘No one. Every delegate was at the mercy of his own associates, blown this way and that by the mood on his own ship. Keeping us from the shore made matters worse, since it allowed the hotheads more sway.’
‘Are you prepared to name them?’
‘No. But if you look ’tween decks on the Inflexible, you’d be searching in the right spot for those most committed.’
Harry rattled the bones again to bring Parker back to reality. The President looked at him, his dark brown eyes now misty.
‘They won’t let us pack it in without exacting retribution.’
‘Precisely. But if we can minimise that, and get you and some of those in greatest danger away …’
‘Away where?’ Parker hooted, his voice full of disbelief.
‘Does it matter?’
‘I’ll not be a fugitive, Captain Ludlow. Not for what I believe to be deep down a good cause.’
‘You must, Parker. Everyone knows who you are. If an example is to be made, then you must be it.’
The President swung round suddenly, grabbing Harry’s arm and jerking it so hard that he brought forth a stab of pain from the now forgotten wound.
‘Would they settle for that?’
‘What?’ asked Harry, pulling his arm free.
‘My neck, Ludlow. They can have me, and let the others go free.’
Harry suddenly found he was looking at Parker in a new light. He’d discerned, almost from the first time he met him, the fact that he had an inherent lack of stability. It was there now, in his eyes, which shone with near religious fervour.
‘Do you realise what you’re implying?’
The light died as quickly as it appeared. ‘Only too well. But you said it. Parker is the name they know. I can’t tell how far they want to take their revenge, but I do know this. There will be no clemency for me.’ He took Harry’s arm again, this time more gently. ‘But let it be only me. Let the President expiate the sin. For if they are let loose, Captain Ludlow, every ship you see, friend or foe, will have men by the dozen swinging from its yards.’
‘You still haven’t told me about the bones,’ Harry said, praying that what Parker told him, if he spoke at all, would be the same as he’d heard from Valentine Joyce.
‘They’re the ones who started out to combine. There are men who’ve been members of Corresponding
Societies and the like, and quite a few Irishmen who claimed to be United, though I’ve never seen two of that race agree on anything. A lot of the petty officers thought they could control them. I thought so too when I was elected. They managed it at Spithead, but we botched it here.’
‘The government thinks there are Jacobins at work.’
‘Nothing of the sort, though I dare say there’s a fair measure who would subscribe to that if they bided in France. But most are just sick of living like dogs.’ Suddenly his voice had more force. ‘They aren’t bad men, Captain Ludlow. They’re good men. And I only wish I could have led them in the way they deserve.’
Harry knew that Parker had corroborated in almost the same words what Valentine Joyce had told him, which eased his mind of any lingering doubts he still harboured.
‘You’re sure you won’t run.’
‘Certain. I have a wife and bairn up in Scotland. Who’s to say they wouldn’t be made to suffer in my place?’
Harry never knew what prompted him to say the next words. Perhaps, even though he felt he didn’t really like Parker, he could admire him. He’d had a tough life, one not cushioned by wealth or influence; had risen from nowhere, and surely due to some of his own skill, elevated himself to a position which had caused admirals to tremble as well as engendering panic in the City of London. Set the rights and wrongs to one side, and his actions denoted a remarkable personality. He wasn’t as talented as Valentine Joyce, but Harry reasoned that few were.
His own experience in the navy had been cut short because he had refused to bow the knee to an arbitrary authority, one much less severe than that endured by people before the mast, so there was an element of genuine sympathy which was personal; and now, this one-time midshipman and schoolmaster was offering to take the entire weight of what had gone wrong on to his own shoulders. That was a courage that Harry Ludlow doubted he shared.
‘I am prepared to help you get away, Parker, if you change your mind.’
Parker, when he turned, had tears running down his cheeks. He looked back again, towards the last of the mutinous ships. ‘No, Captain Ludlow, though I thank you kindly. If God has any mercy, he will see my mission complete, and there will be but one noosed rope hanging from the yardarm, and not hundreds.’
Game of Bones Page 35
