by Smith, Skye
"In this sealed package addressed to John Pym are witnessed copies of all of the information we retrieved from number 17,” Isaac told them, as he passed a package across his grand mahogany desk. This embassy, like all embassies, spared no expense on furnishings in an attempt to put their best face forward. "I have had extra copies made of the information about the convoy, its manifest, passengers, its course, landing places, and the supposed traitor,” he said softly as he handed over three more packages. "Two are for our navy squadrons, but keep one for yourselves just in case you need to show them to someone in authority."
Rob tore open one of the smaller packages, pulled out the contents, and began to read the reports. As he finished the first page he passed it to Daniel. "A thousand seasoned soldiers, thirty cannons, two hundred kegs of gunpowder, small arms for then thousand,” Rob sobbed as he read. "That popish bitch! This war is all Henrietta's doing. Six assassins she sent for you Isaac. Even when she rid her palace of the Duke of Buckingham she only sent one. Buckingham was assassinated in what? '28, so that means that her and her Romanist courtiers have run Charlie and ruined England for fifteen years now. Well if she can use assassins, why can't we? There must be someone in The Hague who will rid us of her, for a price."
"Your words are unworthy of you, Robert,” Isaac scolded. "Assassinate Henrietta? I am sickened and shocked that you could think such an evil thought."
Robert said nothing in his defense, so Daniel spoke up. "Isaac, please understand that we are both seasoned skirmishers. When we attack we must first ride into great danger, and then at best we will get one or two shots. It is natural for us to always think in terms of who is the prime target. Usually an officer, but gunners too. If Henrietta wants to play war, then she makes herself a target."
"Drop it,” Robert told him. "Isaac is too moral to accept the killing of a woman, even though thousands of innocent women and children may die at the hands of Henrietta's mercenaries. Here, read the rest of these papers."
"I don't need to read them. I can guess what they say,” Daniel told them. "The convoy will set out in the next calm weather on a course for Lowestoft, where they will turn north towards the Humber. Off the mouth of the Humber a small guide ship will be waiting with a message from the Earl of Newcastle, about whether or not they can land at Kingston-upon-Hull. Parliament's governor there is Colonel Hotham, so that is a possibility. If there is no guide ship waiting, then they will continue fifteen miles north and land at Bridlington instead. As for the passenger lists and cargo manifests, they will give numbers to soldiers and ordnance carried, but they will be missing the two things you need to know the most."
Rob flipped through the pages quickly, and then said, "I can understand how you would guess at Lowestoft because you saw the convoy on that course but a week ago. What about the rest? What is your reasoning?"
"The Earl of Newcastle and the king's northern army is in York and York is reached by the sea through the Humber,” Daniel said as he counted his thoughts off on his fingers. "If at the same time they can take control of Kingston, that will give them control of all ships traffic on the Humber and cut Yorkshire off from Lincolnshire. Hotham is the governor of Kingston, and I met the man and his son the last time I was in Kingston. I did not trust them then, and I trust them less now. If the Earl of Newcastle has corrupted them, then the best way of telling the convoy is by sending out a ship to meet it with the message.
If Hotham cannot be corrupted, then landing at Hull or anywhere in the Humber becomes too risky so the convoy will need an alternate landing port. Somewhere close by but outside the Humber. Bridlington is the closest port north of the Humber that has a pier for large ships."
"Ah but though you are using logic and reason, you are still guessing,” Isaac told him, "whereas this report was based on secrets read or heard by a spy."
"The spy could also be guessing and just pretending that he has a secret source,” Daniel pointed out, "but since his guess sounds reasonable, you have paid him for it. I will trust my own guesses over a spy's"
"Well then hear thee what is written here, for the spy's version is somewhat different from yours,” Isaac told him, and then read of from the paper. "The convoy's landing port is to be Newcastle. The Earl of Newcastle and his cavalry are to ride from York and meet the convoy there. There is no mention of Hull or of Hotham. The turncoat is parliament's governor in Scarborough, Hugh Cholmley, not Hotham. He has agreed to withdraw his militia from guarding Bridlington so that port can be used as an alternative to Newcastle. Ambassador Strickland has an independent confirmation of the withdrawal at Bridlington from his brother at their family manor in Boynton, which is just two miles inland from Bridlington."
"So Daniel's worthy thoughts are to be ignored?” Rob said almost to himself. "Of course they will be ignored. Politicians tend to believe the written word over the oral, and this spy's report is committed to paper and that paper now bears Strickland's stamp. Naval officers also prefer the written to the oral.” He looked towards his friend and asked, "Danny, you said that these lists will be missing the two things we need to know the most. What are they?"
"The queens name on the passenger list, and the unsold crown jewels on the manifest. It leads me to believe that the queen is not sailing with her convoy, for she would not leave the jewels behind in The Hague. Think about it. Who in this corrupt town could she trust them with? No one. Who else but her could continue to try to sell them? No one. Nay, she will have them with her. Since the spy has not listed her or the jewels, then she is not sailing. That is, if you believe the spy."
Isaac laughed aloud at the simple logic, but then went quiet and serious again. "The word from Scheveling is that the queen's army is beginning to board. A thousand men. The invasion is afoot again. You must leave immediately for England, first to warn the navy in the Thames estuary, and then to London to warn Pym and the Committee of Safety. Do not linger long in London. Once your messages are delivered, you must use the Swift's great speed to catch up to the queen's convoy and find out where they are landing. When you know the outcome of the landing, then you must race back here with the first news of it. Do you understand the importance of the sequence of your mission, or do you need me to explain it?"
Both men shook their heads. The sequence of the mission was simple logic. "Do you want us to warn every navy ship we meet on the way?” Rob asked.
"Of course,” Isaac replied. "That is why we gave you extra copies of some of these papers."
"Does our navy have permission to fire on the convoy?"
"They have the permission and yet, umm, well, you see, the stance of our navy commanders is that they prefer not to take an active part for either side in the civil war, but that they will do everything they can to protect our shores from foreign invasions. Whether or not a captain will open fire on the convoy depends on whether he deems it a foreign invasion."
"Let me put it another way,” Rob said, "Should they try to recover the crown jewels, no matter the cost in lives?"
Isaac took a deep breath, and fumbled with his gloves as he thought. It was a trick question, damn him. If the crown jewels were with the convoy then so would be Henrietta, and visa versa. Would the jewels still be considered stolen, if they were being returned to English soil? Would a navy commander fire on a ship if he knew the queen and the jewels were aboard it? "Our information is that neither the queen nor the jewels are traveling with the convoy. Tell that to the navy."
* * * * *
"They chose a fair day to set out,” Daniel said as the Swift left the mouth of the Verversingskanaal. The wind was steady from the south west and there were no waves to speak of. It was only because the Swift was Bermuda rigged that she could even hold this course so close to the wind. He had his looker focused on the ships at Scheveling's quays. They were indeed preparing to sail. "Six fluyts. One more than last time. I've seen enough. Make for the Thames."
"Nay, stay this course until we reach the Hook and the mouth of the River Schuer,” R
ob countered. "Keep all eyes peeled for the navy escort. We may know how many fluyts there will be, but it's far more important to our navy to know how many Dutch war ships to expect.” They kept to the course, and swept along the low coastline where only the continuous sand dunes protected the land from the sea tides. At last they saw the towers of Hook over the dunes, and beyond it the many mouths of the Schuer.
"There they are, gathering in the river near to Hook's quays,” Daniel called out, and refocused his lenses. "Stront!” he cursed, "Just look at them. Six. Six war ships, and three of them ships-of-the-line. Stront! Where are the Dunkirker raiders when you need them?"
"Oh well,” Rob replied, "on the last crossing there were nine navy ships. Let's be thankful for small mercies."
Daniel shrugged and then turned to the crew and yelled out, "Prepare to change course towards the Thames! Let's not give the navy any reason to be curious about us."
The Swift heeled over as the change in rudder angle dug. The crew were scrambling in every direction, not to change the sails so much as to re-tune them. Both Daniel and Rob had their lookers fixed on the navy squadron, so it was the bow watch who was the first to call out, "Brigantine to port, on an intercept course. Must be the harbour watch.” Two lookers swung around and the two men holding them swore aloud in Dutch. Of course Admiral Tromp would have a patrol outside the river mouth, just in case of Dunkirker raiders.
"She's one of them new Dutch brigantines, the ones they build to chase down the Dunkirker galliots!” Daniel yelled out to the crew so they wouldn't stop their own work to look up. "Light fast ships to chase light fast ships.” He watched the other ship for some moments longer and then yelled out, "What'say lads! Do you want to play it safe, or do you want to challenge her to a race? I for one would like to see what them new brigantines can do."
"Danny no. Absolutely not!” Rob yelled out. "The diplomatic pouches we carry are critical. We must take no chances. At least, not until after they have been delivered."
"You heard the man!” Daniel yelled out to the crew. "Find the sweet spot and let's get out of here."
To the crew the 'sweet spot' meant tuning course, rudder, and sails for the fastest possible speed. The course was not as important as the speed. That meant cutting diagonally across the wind with the tips of the sails well out over the gunnels. On that angle to the wind they could actually sail faster than the wind. Once they had found the sweet spot, they all relaxed. Now they had time to take turns on the lookers and admire the sleek new ship that was on a course diagonal to theirs, an intercept course to cut them off.
Although this new Dutch brigantine did have oars like the ships they were designed to chase, they were quite different from the Mediterranean style galliots that the Dunkirker privateers used. The classic galliots had multiple banks of oars and two or even three large lateen sails. Big triangle sails hung from a boom that climbed at an angle up from the deck to mid-mast, and continued higher than the mast. The hulls were lightly built, which meant that either under oar, or under sail, or under both, they could travel faster than the wind in any direction. The Swift was a captured Dunkirker pirate galliot converted into a coastal trader, which meant that all but one bank of oars had been stripped away, and instead of the lateens, she now had Bermuda fore-aft triangle sails.
The Dutch brigantine, on the other hand, was a square rigged tall ship with one bank of oars. It was lightly built, shallow of daft, and designed for speed rather than as a floating gun fortress like larger navy ships. They were more like a small sleek frigate than a true galliot. Daniel had always thought them not up to the task of chasing down the Dunkirkers, because all a true galliot need do to evade them was to turn into the wind and then out-run them under oar.
That said, the Dutch brigantine now chasing them was cramming on every sail, and they had a lot of them. Though it did not have efficient triangle sails, it had a waterline length half again longer than the Swift's, so its hull speed would be a few knots greater than the Swift's. The two ships were on courses according to how they each sailed best. The Swift was using her much shorter triangle sails to cut across the wind, while the tall ship was running in front of the wind with every square sail set to catch as much wind as possible. They were pushing the masts forward with huge amounts of power.
"Should we push out some oars, Danny?” the helmsman jested. At this speed the oars would make little difference. "I'm glad you didn't play silly bugger with that Dutchman. She's goin' faster than us, and she's got the weather helm to cut us off. By now her bloody captain'll be dancin' a jig'o'joy at his good fortune."
"He has lost the race. He just doesn't know it yet,” Rob replied as he took the wheel from the helmsman, and then handed his looker to the man. "Take a look at the sea between us, and then take a look at the sea just ahead of us.” While the man focused the looker he explained. "The wind is coming over that point of land, which has lifted it off the surface of the sea. Most of the wind is too high for our sails to catch, but the Dutchmen's topsails are catching it. Now look at the sea ahead. Do you see that chop. That marks the wind coming back down to sea level."
"Give me back my wheel,” the helmsman told him. "Quickly now!” He step into position, and once he had good hold of the wheel's torque, he motioned to Rob to let go and then handed him back his looker.
The Dutchman was now close enough to clearly see the Dutchman's crew. The commander was standing on the bridge with his own looker pointed at the Swift. He was poised for success. He had out-run the Swift and would cut them off. There were crew scrambling all over the two big guns on the bow.
A moment later the Swift reached the rougher water caused by the wind coming back down to the sea, and her triangle sails stretched, and pulled at the masts, and the masts pushed the hull more onto her side, and the water began to hiss against the curve of hull. She seemed almost to leap forward on top of the waves. The hiss meant that she was now going faster than her hull speed. Instead of crossing in front of her, the Dutchman was now fated to cross behind her, so the Dutch crew were leaping into the rigging, for now the tall ship must change course to follow in the Swift's wake.
"Cannon smoke!” Daniel yelled out just before the thunder from the big gun reached them. Every crewman dived for the deck. The Dutchman had fired one of her bowchasers at them. "Stand easy!” Daniel yelled out. "It was a warning shot, nothing more. Powder and cloth but no ball. Brace yourselves for a turn into the wind!” He waited for a moment while the crew grabbed at anything solid, and then he called to the helmsman, "Turn her into the wind, hard over."
For a few strained moments that seemed to last an hour, the entire ship keeled over as the combination of the turning hull and change of angle of the wind against the sails combined with the leverage of the masts to try to roll the ship over. The Swift powered through the turn but then the sails lost the wind and she slowed abruptly. "Keep two point off the wind to keep us moving ahead,” he told the helmsman, and then yelled to the crew, "Trim the sails for running close to the wind!"
Behind him Rob was still staring at the Dutchman, but now he was laughing his head off. "Beauty, Danny. I couldn't have timed it better myself.” The Swift had turned so quickly that the Dutchman coming up fast behind them had no time to react. The Dutchman was now careening away from them on the Swift's original course, and meanwhile the Swift was sailing away from them at right angles into the wind.
"I did nothing but obey their warning shot and haul over into the wind,” Daniel said with a smirk. He turned his head towards the helmsman and told him, "Keep her moving, but close to the wind.” Meanwhile he went to the stern locker and pawed through a chest of assorted flags. "They'll be wanting us to show our colors. Damn it, where is it. It should be right here on top."
"If you fly the English colors they are sure to board us. We can't have that. Not with these dispatches aboard,” Rob told him. "Since he can't sail this close to the wind, why not just keep this course and sail away from him. By the time he turns we'll b
e away and he'll never catch us again."
"Rob, give your head a shake. My clan does a lot of business in Rotterdam, and we want to keep that privilege.” He found the flag he was searching for and pulled it out of the chest.
"But you can't fly Dutch colors. He'll have read our transom and will know that the Swift is registered in Bridgwater. A ruse using the Dutch tricolor will just anger him."
"It's not quite the Dutch colors,” Daniel told him as he shook out the flag, "for it has an extra section of orange. It's a Dutch Carnet flag. It's our license to carry cargo between two Dutch ports.” All kingdoms had the same rule. If you were a foreign ship who wanted to carry cargo from port to port within the kingdom, you needed a local license called a carnet de passage. He attached the flag and hoisted it up the stern flag pole. It opened and flew the right side up, so he went back to watching the Dutchman through his looker.
She was spilling wind and slowing, readying to make the turn. He could see her commander looking at him through his own looker. He would have a Dutch Navy kijker, which was longer and had larger lenses. Daniel pulled the whistle up from around his neck and blew hard on it over and over again to make sure the Dutch commander was watching him. Then he pantomimed an exaggerated shrug and held the position for a moment while he continued to whistle.
For ten minutes nothing happened other than the Dutchman slowly pulled away from them one way, while the Swift continued to sail slowly upwind. The Dutchman still had a lot of men in the rigging, but meanwhile the distance between the two ships was ever stretching. When the Dutchman finally turned it was not to come after the Swift, but to sail back to the River Schuer.
Rob came over and slapped Daniel on the back. "Nicely done Danny, though I must admit I did have some misgivings."
"Only a rat shits in his own nest, Rob. Holland is one of our nests. Oh well, at least now we know what those new brigantines can do. Did you mark their weakness. They are too complicated compared to the Dunkirker galliots. Too many sails and therefore too many men at risk aloft. A Dunkirker galliot would have simply put the same number of men on their oars and would then have pulled away from them directly into the wind."
