by Lee Rowan
“Only as a passenger, but I can surely row. And if you tell me what to do, I will follow your orders. But we cannot row all the way across the Channel….” He glanced at Marshall, obviously reaching the limits of his knowledge. “Or would that be possible?”
“We might sail across. In summer, surely. At this time of year, it would be a dangerous and uncomfortable journey. But I think the Mermaid would find us sooner than that.”
“How?”
“Since we never saw your signal, we made other plans and set points at which to rendezvous before I came ashore. Your nephew will not be wasting his time, sir—so long as that French frigate guards the bay, he will return to those points at least once every day.”
Colbert nodded, sipping his coffee. “You are correct, Captain. It seems we must find a boat.”
“I must also check the tide-tables. The moon is waning, so it rises late, near midnight. It would be best if we sail when the tide is ebbing, or at least not on the rise.”
“I have such tables in my study,” Étienne said. “I think you may need to wait a day or two for the tide and darkness together. And I do not say that only because we would prefer to keep you here a little longer.”
Marshall smiled ruefully. “I fear we may be here for some time, until we solve the difficulty of a boat.”
“There is no difficulty with a boat in itself. Many men in the village have small craft for fishing or trade—you saw them when you arrived, no? The difficulty is a boat that will not be seen. To take one of them from the beach and carry it away without attracting notice, that is where the thing becomes complicated.” He put down his napkin and rose. “Maman, you must excuse us for now. Come, my friends, let us go study the tide-tables and consider this matter of a boat.”
“What of your father’s toy?” she asked suddenly. “Would that not do?”
“Pardon?”
“When you were a boy, your father would take us out on the sea, just the three of us, in the boat he called his little toy.” She smiled reminiscently. “It was very small. He could steer it by himself with a rope to move the sail and the stick at the back. Do you not remember? You used to love that boat.”
“The skiff?” Étienne seemed surprised. “Do we have that, still?”
“I have not seen it in years, or thought of it, and cannot say where it might be. But there were times, when the war had gone on for so many years, he would tell me we should take out the old boat and sail away together.” She turned to Marshall. “Captain, it has been twenty years and more since I last saw this boat. If it is still somewhere about, it may require much repair.”
Marshall was almost afraid to hope, but he had to, and he could feel his pulse beating faster. “If it was put away sound, and safe from the woodworm, Madame, it might be ideal. Monsieur Beauchene?”
Étienne nodded. “We can look in the outbuildings. I think it would be best if we search by ourselves, and call on Jean-Claude only if he is needed to help in transport. I will need your assistance, Captain—the outbuildings are so dim, I could not find it by myself.”
“With pleasure, sir.”
As they donned their greatcoats, Étienne smiled. “I must ask you to let me take your arm,” he said apologetically, “for I am not so sure-footed out of doors.”
“Of course,” Marshall said, hoping his self-consciousness was not evident. His host did nothing that would embarrass either of them, and as they walked down the sloping path toward the road and outbuildings, it was clear that the request had been a perfectly reasonable one. The path was uneven and steep in places, and even with excellent eyesight, the footing was treacherous. He felt ashamed for his momentary anxiety but soon forgot his feelings in the anticipation of the hunt. At last, a reason to get out of the house, and perhaps a chance at escape!
They found it in the carriage-house near the gate, the first place Étienne had suggested they look. The original structure, built to waist-height of local stone and timber above, contained an old-fashioned coach, a lighter open carriage, and a pony cart.
“That was mine,” Étienne said. “The pony is long gone, alas, and Jean-Claude has a mule who pulls the cart to market. Apart from that, we keep only a pair of carriage-horses now. Come, let us look on the other side.”
At some point in the past, the building had been expanded by adding a three-sided shed to the north wall, and they found the boat there, pushed to the back of the space and half-hidden by barrels, odd pieces of lumber, and various gardening tools. Marshall cleared away the clutter as quickly as possible while Étienne sensibly kept out of the way, sitting on a small barrel outside the doorway.
“Will this be sufficient?” he asked.
“Perfectly, so long as she’s sound.” The skiff was small indeed—tiny, as Madame Beauchene had said, only about a dozen feet long. But that was big enough, and her size would make the task of getting her down to the water considerably easier—as would the vehicle that she rested upon: an old carriage frame with two long beams, one on either side, to support the hull. Marshall found an old hammer hung on a nail in the shed wall and went over the skiff plank by plank, checking her for soundness. He found a few spots around the upper edges that he was not entirely happy with, and some weathering was visible on the brass oarlocks. But her wood seemed solid right down to the oars, wrapped in oiled canvas and lying across the seats.
“I admire your father’s foresight, monsieur,” Will said at last. “If he had been given the chance, I believe he really could have put out to sea at any time he wished. She’s a pretty little thing.”
“Very good,” Étienne said. “And now for the tide-tables.”
Dr. Colbert was in Madame Beauchene’s parlor as they walked past, sitting close and engaged in a quiet, earnest conversation. Not wanting to waste the time the older folks had to visit, the two men went back to Étienne’s study, where the tables told them that tonight should give them time enough, though the following night would be better.
“I would prefer to try tonight,” Marshall said. “I saw no sign of anyone while we were outdoors, but if Dr. Colbert believes he was followed, it would be best to take no chances.”
“If you must,” Étienne said. “I agree, it is probably the wise thing to do. He may be right about Bonaparte’s police. One does not accumulate so much power without also accumulating enemies.”
The doctor’s concern for the Beauchenes’ safety had infected Marshall. “I hope we’ve not brought trouble to your door.”
“I cannot believe you have. Yes, to meet a boat here on the quiet shore is not the proper way to leave the country, but this is a private matter. A mistake it may be, but no great crime. I can even swear that you came unarmed.”
“If that persuaded you of my good intentions, I’m glad of it,” Marshall said, “though I confess, I wish I had my pistol or sword at hand. Still, with luck we’ll soon be away, and you’ll not have to swear at all.”
Étienne closed the pamphlet of tide-tables. “I know that we will see war again, William, and I wish that were not so. I would invite you—yes, and your friend—to visit here for a time when the circumstances are more agreeable.”
“I hope that we can do that someday,” Will said. “And if you enjoyed sailing when you were younger, perhaps we can take the skiff out to sea once more.”
“Perhaps.” His tone said plainly, “We will never have the chance.”
It did seem unlikely they’d meet again, with the full force of war ready to waken at any moment. In the quiet of this orderly room, Marshall imagined he could feel the winds of battle blowing from far away, the other wall of the hurricane drawing ever closer. “I think the Peace will hold at least until Christmas,” he said. “Winter is a bad time to begin a war.”
“Is there ever a good time?”
“That depends on whom you ask.” Marshall shifted in the comfortable chair, wishing that it were night already so he could put their plans into motion. He might envy Étienne his peaceful, studious life, but he was
not built for this sort of inaction. It was easier to sail into battle than to linger in the doldrums of endless uncertainty.
But the day dragged on, and he had nothing to do until twilight, when he, the doctor, and Jean-Claude would use the dim light to move the skiff down to the shore on the opposite side of the point. Once they had the boat in the water, they would return to the house for dinner, and then a few more hours’ wait until it was fully dark and the tide was nearing its height.
It seemed the doctor’s appearance had convinced Jean-Claude that Marshall had spoken the truth and was that rare creature, a good Englishman. Or perhaps he was merely looking forward to getting the foreigner off French soil—either way, Marshall was pleased to have his help.
After all the days of waiting, the few remaining hours should have passed quickly. They did not. At Étienne’s suggestion, Will went up to the highest window of the chateau with a telescope and tried to see if he could spot the Mermaid somewhere on the horizon, as he had done a few times during his stay.
The attic level of the chateau was a good thirty feet above the ground, which, with the elevation of the hillside, gave him a vantage point immensely higher than the French frigate’s. The clouds had dissipated earlier in the day, and his view out over the ocean was clear and unobstructed.
But the Mermaid was nowhere to be seen. Had Davy perhaps given up hope and gone back to report the development to Sir Percy? Or had he had decided to stand even farther out, to avoid being noticed by passing ships?
That did not matter. Davy would keep to the rendezvous, no matter what, just as Marshall himself would if their positions were reversed.
WITH THE Mermaid standing in just behind the edge of the cliff that jutted out into the sea on the side of the harbor farthest from the chateau, David Archer made one last, careful check of the chart. It would be worse than pitiful to set such a careful plan, only to run the Mermaid up on some unexpected reef.
But he would not make such a mistake. After days of anxious anticipation, they’d received word that Dr. Colbert had been seen half a day’s journey away. He would be at the chateau by now, if he was ever going to arrive—and if he was not, it was high time to bring Will back aboard. A bit of outside distraction, enough to lure the French frigate out of the way, and he would swoop in, send a boat out for Will and the doctor, and be away before the slower vessel could return.
The distraction was out of his hands, now. All he could do was wait.
He’d never developed the habit of biting his nails. It was an unsuitable sort of habit for an officer or a gentleman, and given how easily tar got onto everything, it would be damned unpleasant.
It might have helped, though. Almost anything might help.
No. Nothing would help but an end to the waiting. And nightfall was still hours away.
Somewhere in the long days of waiting, Archer had decided he would be going in himself, in command of the boat crew. No doubt Barrow could have handled it well enough, and no doubt Will would be furious.
That was too damned bad.
Will had made a lot of decisions about who was to go ashore on this expedition. But he had never asked Archer to promise to stay aboard the Mermaid, and Archer had never volunteered.
If you didn’t want me coming to get you, Captain Marshall, you never should have gone ashore alone.
7:00 P.M.
The sun had set, and some of the lights in the village had already begun to wink out as people settled in for the night. It was time to see if the plan would succeed.
Marshall and Dr. Colbert donned their coats in the foyer of the chateau. They had taken the boat down, a tremendous struggle in places where the weeds had grown over for years, but Jean-Claude had cleared away a few saplings with his hatchet, and the weight of the skiff had flattened down the rest.
As the doctor spoke quietly to Madame Colbert in the hallway, Étienne took Marshall’s hand. “I wish I could come down to see you off,” he said, “but with these eyes, I might never find my way back up again.”
“It’s better you stay inside where it’s warm.” Marshall clasped his hand. “I cannot say I wish things were otherwise,” he said. “To have one friend I love is more than I had ever hoped for. But if things had been different….”
“Perhaps I too will find such a friend,” Étienne said. “But there are many sorts of love.” He pulled Marshall into an embrace—a friendly one, no more—and kissed him lightly on either cheek. “Adieu, mon ami.”
The door swung open, admitting a gust of damp, chilly wind. And there, on the broad stone porch, stood five men. One held a lantern; the other four had pistols.
They pushed their way into the foyer, uninvited. The oldest in the group, a sour-faced, thick-bodied fellow, said, “Monsieur Beauchene?”
Étienne inclined his head. “Oui?”
“I regret that I must arrest you, in the name of the First Consul, on a charge of espionage and treason.”
Chapter 10
“I BEG your pardon!” Madame Beauchene stepped forward, the smallest of them all, cradling her dainty little dog in her arms and somehow all the more formidable for that—perhaps because the dainty little dog’s teeth were bared in a low, rumbling snarl. “What insanity is this?”
“Madame,” the spokesman said, “I am Captain Dupont, of the national police. We are under orders to follow a suspected spy and arrest whomever he might contact.”
“We have no spies here,” she said indignantly.
“Madame, this man”—he pointed to Dr. Colbert—“has been behaving in a manner of the greatest suspicion. For no reason, he has traveled a great distance to this—forgive me, this place of no importance—”
“This ‘place of no importance’ is my home,” she said. “Dr. Colbert has been a friend of this family since I was but a girl. He came here”—she held her hand out defiantly, displaying a small ring—“to ask for my hand in marriage!”
“What?” Marshall caught himself, but it was too late.
Dupont’s slightly bulbous eyes turned his way. “And this Englishman—is he also a suitor?”
“Of course I am not.” Marshall stamped hard on his impulse to laugh at the bizarre circumstances. After all the time he’d spent racking his brain for the doctor’s reason in coming here! But though the situation might be ludicrous, there was no humor in the guillotine. “Captain Dupont, I am here because my employer, a relative of Dr. Colbert, received a letter requesting that he meet his uncle here.”
“For what reason?”
“To take him home to his family in England, I presume. The letter did not explain his reasons, and there was no way to contact him and ask him to travel by a more conventional route. I swear to you upon my honor, we did not come here for any purpose other than to fulfill this family obligation.” That was true for his purpose in coming to this precise spot, at least.
“Your name?”
“William Marshall.”
“Royal Navy?”
“Not at present. I sought private employment after being released from active service, after the Treaty.”
“And your employer?”
“David St. John, a Canadian trader, aboard the schooner Mermaid out of Plymouth.”
“And where is this schooner?”
Since he could not produce the Mermaid, Marshall decided to stick to the truth. “We were not certain that this rendezvous would be looked upon with favor,” he said carefully, “and when I came ashore to find the doctor not yet arrived, Mr. St. John must have left to avoid just this sort of difficulty with your Navy. I am not certain where my ship is at this time.”
Dupont glanced at one of the others, who nodded. “This agrees with what we know from the captain of our ship that has been guarding this place,” he said. “We shall investigate your claim, and if what you say is true, you will be released. But I must also place you under arrest.”
“Monsieur, I am certain that my employer’s uncle is telling the truth—”
“Indeed I am
,” Colbert put, shifting so that he stood between Madame Beauchene and the intruders.
Dupont regarded him scornfully. “Doctor, we have questioned many people in Paris, and I assure you, we know you were not there for purely personal reasons. My instructions are to arrest you, and anyone you may have contacted. Madame, you may remain here in your home if you wish, for the present, but in the morning, I will return to Paris with these men in custody.”
“In the morning! And I am to welcome you as guests in my home all night?”
“Not at all. You may have your servants pack such things as your son may need, and bring them down to the harbor. These prisoners are going aboard the ship that awaits us below, and we sail for Paris on the morning tide.”
Madame Beauchene said a word that a lady of her refinement should not have known, and stalked off down the hall. When she was clear of the line of fire, Will gauged the distance between himself and the armed men. No good. If Dupont’s accusation was true, the doctor might be useful in a fight, but Étienne was as vulnerable as his mother, and he was in the midst of things.
Étienne spoke at last. “Captain Dupont, I realize that this situation is extremely peculiar, but I assure you, there is no evil afoot. I have been engaged in mathematical studies on behalf of the Comte de Péluse, of the Senate—”
“Monsieur, your connection is known, and your loyalty is not in question. Indeed, it was fear for your safety that caused me to bring such a force—to rescue you if need be.”
