A Parade Of Virtue (A Poor Man At The Gate Series Book 9)

by Andrew Wareham

  "Indiamen call at the Cape and I could be recognised. I will go to Botany Bay, if you will, my lord."

  "Very wise! You will dictate a full, detailed confession to piracy and murder, to be held on file in London. Should you ever be reported as missing from your place of exile, then the confession you have made will be the basis for a warrant against you. Places, names and dates, sir - nothing less will be acceptable."

  He nodded, he would do it.

  "For the while, until we have a ship for you, there will be a secure lodging arranged. You must sell out of your business, of course. The lawyer who takes your confession will deal with that and will ensure that nothing comes quickly to the ears of your late associates in Bombay. I will require a further statement from you to the effect that a Mr Trenton contacted you and made an offer of a small sum of money in exchange for a false affidavit alleging fraud against Mr Farlow and Sir Matthew. Have you any money of your own saved?"

  "In the safe here, my lord."

  "That will be counted and will be placed in your hands when you sail, together with the proceeds from your business. Do remember that you will not leave Botany Bay for the whole of your natural life. You will not, incidentally, trade in opium whilst you are there, but you will be free to occupy yourself in any other business. You are very lucky, Mr Star. You may be able to make a comfortable, even rich, life for yourself. I would far rather have killed you, sir."

  Robert left, Murphy remaining to deal with the business of taking John to a place of confinement.

  "What is this place? You, Murphy, where am I?"

  "Mind your manners, little man! This is Doctor Stone's private madhouse, Mr Star. You will stay here until the ship is ready to sail. It will not be uncomfortable, and my lord has arranged for food to be brought in from a chophouse down the road. I am told that the screams at night can be a little unnerving at first, but to be sure, you will get used to it!"

  It was the lowest point ever of his existence. Even with his ship sunk, clinging wounded to the wreckage, silent whilst his brother's men picked over the remains, he had not been so alone and hopeless. There was a table and a single chair in his cell, both fixed firmly to the floor; other than that there was a bed and a chamber pot.

  "How long, Mr Murphy?"

  "You are lucky, Mr Star. A provision ship sails in only five days from now, from the naval yard at Chatham. A cabin will be arranged for you - she occasionally takes government functionaries out to the Antipodes, so it will not be too Spartan. It is six months till the next sailing we could discover, my lord having suspected you would prefer the Southern Continent to the Cape."

  "I would go mad, locked in here for six months!"

  "Sure, and you would be in the right place, would you not!"

  "All done, my lord. I escorted him to Chatham myself and put him aboard his ship and into his cabin, and had a sentry placed on his door to remain there until sailing. The master has had experience of gentlemen in like case, it would seem, though he tells me it was on the run to India previously. He assures me that he will not leave the ship in any circumstances until they make their berth in the convict harbour."

  "Thank you, Mr Murphy. Will it do, do you think? Will we see him again?"

  "I would not expect to, my lord. He is broken for the while at least, and will take some years to build himself up again. I suspect that when he ventures forth again it will be into the world of Botany Bay, where he will find himself surrounded by villains, his own sort of people. There is land by the tens of square miles, and there are mountains which may be the place for mines - scope for an enterprising gentleman to make a fortune there, I would say. Particularly so because money will be short - a thousand will make him a rich man in that company."

  "He has more than a thousand, Mr Murphy. I still suppose I would have been better advised to shoot him - I am sure my father would have, you know!"

  "Times are changing, my lord. There will be a police force within a few months and there may be law in this great city of ours, though I doubt it, truly I do!"

  "Not a good idea, I fear - too much law is bad for you, you know!"

  John Star was sole passenger on the provision ship; luckily, he was a seaman, enjoyed the maritime existence and spent his days walking the deck, soaking up the tropical sun and slowly rebuilding his health and strength. England was a grey, wet, cold country and he found he was glad to be away from it - going 'home' had been a mistake, the last of the series he determined. He ate with the captain in the stern cabin and discovered all that he knew about the penal colony.

  "Wide open, sir. The old Rum Regiment is gone, but its successors have been no less bent. Pay your sweeteners, in gold if at all possible, and a very few pounds will produce great results. A land grant, on water - easily arranged! Gangs of convicts to work your fields? You will be doing the authorities a favour by taking them off their hands! A breeding flock? certainly, sir! A bull and a few cows - not quite so easy, but it can be arranged, sir!"

  "What if I do not fancy the agricultural life, sir?"

  "Then the opportunities are far fewer, Mr Star. There is little money in the convict colony - so small scope for a merchant. A brewery would be profitable, but the authorities might well disapprove - even more so for another distillery. A shipyard - perhaps; American whalers call very frequently and could provide custom."

  "Mines?"

  "A few scrapes, sir. Iron is always needed and there have been small deposits of coal found. The continent is huge, sir - there will be gold out there somewhere, no doubt, but there will be many years of searching I suspect. Wheat and wool, sir - that is today's wealth."

  He could make a comfortable future - thirty years of labour and he would have a huge farm, an estate, have achieved respectability. He might prefer to cut his throat - there had to be something more congenial than that.

  Robert travelled north to confer with Sir Matthew and meet with his unregenerate brother - not a prospect that filled him with joy as Joseph still resented having been forcibly, and painfully, cured of his addiction.

  "The heirs and assigns of Mr Trenton need no longer concern us, Sir Matthew. It came to Mr Michael's attention that they had presented false affidavits in their initial pleadings. He met with their barrister and demonstrated that his brief contained perjury. The result was outrage, of course - any lawyer is used to clients who make statements that exaggerate, that over-egg the pudding, but they none of them like to be presented with crude, unsubtle lies. Their man brought the attorney before a judge in chambers, rather than in open court, and together they proved that they had been offered a case based on falsehood and greed, that they had been deceived most cruelly."

  "I am glad to hear that, my lord. What was the outcome?"

  "Case dismissed, of course, but also costs and damages to the defendant in very generous terms and the heir arrested and to stand for trial at the Assizes. Opinion is, incidentally, that he may well be able to show that he was deceived by a series of falsehoods offered him by a third party, that he was himself defrauded. He will probably be seen as gullible rather than criminal, but will come out of the affair with a whopping great bill to pay nonetheless."

  Matthew had not been away to school, was not familiar with the word, but could guess at the meaning.

  "What of this 'third party'? Who is he?"

  Robert sat back in his chair, took a reflective drink.

  "An excellent Madeira, Matthew - as good as any my father had in his cellar."

  "It should be, Robert - I had his old butler place an order for me!"

  Silence fell.

  "My question, Robert? I suspect I will not like the answer."

  "Your brother, John."

  "I was told he still lived. He had reason to be bitter, viewed from his side of things."

  "He was a pirate - you were right, utterly so!"

  "I know. He was my little brother, too!"

  Matthew refilled their glasses.

  "What has become of him, Robert? Mus
t I complete the job?"

  "You cannot, Matthew. He is aboard ship, under a degree of constraint, and en route to Botany Bay. Not as a convict, but exiled quite equally, never to return. He has a little money. I hope he may settle to farming. I do not know, but he will be watched and we will receive word of him from time to time."

  "Will you tell Thomas?"

  "He is head of the family. I must."

  It could not be right to keep Lord Star in the dark; he must be informed of all that affected his brood.

  "On a related matter, Robert. Mr Trenton's attorney made certain enquiries about my background - any lawyer would in such a case - and found that Roberts has a close relationship with Mr Farlow, and with Clapperley and Pitt. He came to hear of the sad case of Mr Upton, previous owner of the premises which now form our shipyard, and was struck by certain similarities. I believe he may have attempted to discover the details of Mr Upton's dreadful fate."

  "What did my father do this time, Matthew?"

  Matthew grinned and nodded, said nothing.

  "Is Farlow awake to the situation?"

  "He told me."

  "I will speak to him, but I think we can trust him to have his tracks well covered. That is why my father employed him!"

  "My lord, a pleasure to see you in my little office! Please to take a seat."

  Farlow pulled the most comfortable chair forward, dusting it anxiously, though there was no need - the room was sparkling bright, scrubbed daily.

  "As Mr Wesley so rightly said, my lord, 'Cleanliness is next to Godliness'."

  There was an odour of soap, as if Farlow found the need to wash his hands very frequently - a latter day Lady Macbeth, perhaps.

  'Little bugger's going loony! I wonder if Clapperley knows?'

  Aloud, Robert made his thanks and greetings before bringing up the matter of the late Mr Upton.

  "Insignificant, my lord. He had no direct heirs of the body, and his spinster aunts survived him only a very few months. I suspect that the scandal was too much for them. The word has been spread, very quietly, amongst the more important of local folk, that there has been an attempt to extort cash from the family - a trumped up plot that might cause a guilty conscience to buy silence. It has been understood that we have nothing to hide and will therefore take the most vigorous action against the criminal involved."

  "Very wise, Mr Farlow."

  "In any case, my lord, very few successful businessmen would wish all of their dealings to become public knowledge."

  That was perfectly true - scandal-mongering could develop into a habit and it was to the advantage of the whole community to tread firmly upon muck-rakers. The newssheets would know better than take up such nasty libels, and do-gooders amongst the local community - an apparently increasing breed - could be persuaded to turn their attention to other matters.

  All was well and there was no alternative to a visit to brother Joseph - there was no further excuse for delay.

  "You are well, Joseph?"

  "Very well, brother. One pipe a day, never more and nor will there be, my lord!"

  Robert shrugged - he could hardly expect Joseph to welcome him as the benefactor he truly believed he was.

  "I am glad, Joseph - very honestly so. I could not have borne to lose you to insanity."

  "Thank you. It would not have helped Roberts' profits either."

  "True, but there are more important things. Will you come to London for the Little Season?"

  "No, not this year."

  "Or ever?"

  "I will take a wife one day, brother, for there is really little point to making money otherwise. But not yet. You will be pleased to know that I have a young lady in keeping - the drug has released its hold upon me!"

  "As the doctor said, Joseph - 'a good servant...'"

  "I was careless and ignorant. I shall be neither in the future."

  "I had heard, in fact, that a young lady of the middle order of people had taken up residence in your house. Possibly a cause for some public comment?"

  "Unfortunately, yes - matters fell out of control, I fear. I am of the opinion that I was to some extent entrapped - not in the commercial sense, perhaps, but a young lady who wished to assert her independence and a father who could see a very desirable marriage for his daughter, he being a poor man."

  "And knowing this, you still..."

  "My dear brother - I could hardly cast the poor girl out into the street, her name lost! Sooner or later she must fall pregnant, and when that day comes I shall set her up as a widow lady in some comfort. There are precedents, I believe."

  Robert grinned and nodded.

  "And the father?"

  "Sod him! Not a penny, brother, the God-fearing hypocrite!"

  "If the occasion arises, put the case in Michael's hands. Do not go to Farlow."

  Robert told of him his doubts of Farlow's mental state.

  "Round the bend, is he?"

  "His anchor cable is well fouled indeed, brother."

  "I shall have a word with the poor chap - suggest a pipe or two. It's amazing what opium can do for you!"

  "It is indeed, Joseph. Now then, what about the railway line - will it succeed?"

  "It will. Mr Stephenson has decided that it must, and neither God nor geology will stand in his path. Two years from now there will be locomotive steam engines drawing trains of wagons and carriages of people. He is aiming at thirty miles an hour! His wheels will be ours, provided only I can lay my hands on the tin to alloy the white metal I need. We must have tin, Robert."

  "I was told so, and have started to search the metal out. Cornwall is worked out, in effect - the mines are too wet. South America is in disorder and the mines are in poor condition, cannot be relied upon. The East is our best source and I have sent to Bombay to demand that action be taken on the matter. I believe that we may rely upon Major Wolverstone for this."

  "The mines are small, I am told, and production unreliable - all depending on Chinese merchants in their junks."

  "The colony at Singapore may be the answer - a useful entrepot. I am minded to establish a man there - there must be palm oil and copra and teak and a hundred other products as well as tin, all of which will be profitable."

  "What of a shipyard?"

  Robert shook his head.

  "Not until we have solved the problem of the hull, Joseph. Wrought-iron plates on wooden ribs are not strong enough for ocean going ships. As well, I have no great love for paddle wheels when it comes to ocean waves. We need progress, brother - and I am inclined to put more of our substance into the railways than into ships. Steel, that is our problem!"

  Book Nine: A Poor Man

  at the Gate Series

  Chapter Two

  Luke Star tucked the Baker rifle into his shoulder, easing himself into place in the crack in the stone wall.

  There he was again, swaggering along without a care in the world, two hundred yards away from the tiny Greek fort, dressed in all of his finery, one of the Egyptian officers. When he came to the gun position he would stop for a few seconds to examine the walls, inspect how much damage had been done in the past hour's firing, how much longer it would take.

  Luke did not understand the Egyptian marks of rank, but this had to be a senior man, a captain or a major perhaps. Not a higher officer, for they did not venture into the field except for a pitched battle - routine siege work was below their dignity.

  He took his aim, waited for the Mameluke to take the last five paces, to turn, to raise his long brass telescope... He squeezed gently on the trigger, watched his man drop in a spray of blood.

  Down into cover and painstakingly reload, the grooves in the rifle barrel slowing the process.

  "I hit him higher than I intended, Markos. Throat shot. Firing downhill always makes me pull high and I did not allow enough."

  "He is dead, brother - finer points do not matter."

  Luke shook his head, he had become intolerant of sloppiness, though he was surrounded by it - the Greeks
just would not smarten up!

  "Four days, do you think, Markos?"

  "Five, it will rain tomorrow."

  The Greek gestured at the sky.

  "You should know, it is your land!"

  The Egyptians would not fight in the rain, habitually took wet days off.

  "Where after that, Lukas?"

  "Into the hills - this is the last fort. They have taken every other one."

  The Egyptian army was far more efficient than their Ottoman masters, or allies, had been. They were French trained and had retained the discipline and methodical ways of their teachers. Unlike the Ottomans, this meant they could not live off the land - they needed far more by way of supplies from their base in Egypt. Their fleet had arrived just the previous day, warships and transports anchored with a few Barbary corsairs and Turkish ships in Navarino Bay, waiting for small boats and barges to come out to them. The small craft were cautious, would not move without escort, for the Greeks' one great success story was their steam-powered gunboat which commanded the coastal waters, forbidding them to anything less than a naval frigate.

  "No movement around the fleets, Markos. I wonder why they are delaying."

  "Far offshore, Lukas, at the horizon, I see sails, I think. The rest of the Turks coming to join them, I expect."

  "So be it."

  Luke primed the rifle and moved along the wall to another firing point. He had learned never to shoot from the same place twice.

  He had discovered a great deal in nearly four years of guerrilla warfare, was much changed from the pious Methodist minister of his early manhood. He had been taught to survive by the young girl who had taken him up, and who had died in the second winter - cold and too little food causing her to quietly waste away. He had taken another companion soon after, and a third earlier in this year - war was hard on womenfolk. It was not easy on men. He carried not an ounce of fat, was strong and wiry and uncaring of hardship. He cared only about killing Turks and Egyptians now, and he had become very good at that.