A Close Run Thing

by David Donachie

  ‘They’re preparing the ship, right enough, prior to weighing.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Allow that I know my trade, as well as you know your own.’

  Two guards, musket-bearing French soldiers, bayonets attached, stood at the bottom of a sloping gangplank, their presence alluded to by Oliphant. Pearce then drew his attention to the point where it joined the gangway, for there stood a rigid marine guard. One of the ship’s big lanterns illuminated his red coat, white crossed belts, the light bouncing off the polished wood of his musket, as well as the steel of his tall bayonet. Did he represent another apparently insurmountable obstacle to making it onto the deck?

  A strong light came from the open door of a wooden hut, one of a pair, Oliphant suggesting it probably housed the official, likely to be political, who would be the final arbiter of who was, and who was not, allowed aboard.

  ‘There will be more than two guards,’ Pearce whispered, adding they must rotate the duty, pointing out the light leaking from the windows of the second, larger hut. ‘I would guess the rest to be accommodated there.’

  ‘Very likely true,’ was the low-spirited response.

  ‘How did you get aboard before?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘Of course it matters.’

  A lengthy pause followed what was an obvious question, yet Oliphant seemed to be wondering what to say, which came down, Pearce thought, to whichever suited best: either lying or telling the truth.

  ‘I was taken out by boat to meet the cartel, once she’d cleared the anchorage.’

  ‘A method not vouchsafed this time.’

  ‘There’s a good reason.’

  ‘Would that again be something you’re keeping to yourself?’

  ‘I am bound by my word to do so this time.’

  ‘No doubt because of my profession.’

  In nothing but starlight Pearce couldn’t see much of Oliphant’s face, but he felt he had no need of an explanation. Carts loaded and moving in darkness, passing through guarded gates with seeming ease, begged the question as to where they were headed. It did not take a genius to work out that, inside the harbour area, the cargo was about to be put aboard a ship, probably one preparing to smuggle those bales, casks and spices into England.

  ‘I sense,’ he said softly, determined not to sound ungrateful, ‘that the ship before us is not the only non-French vessel that has leave to come and go from Calais. I also sense it is one we cannot be allowed to get close to.’

  ‘While the last thing to be welcomed,’ came the equally quiet reply, ‘would be a serving British naval officer witnessing both the loading, as well as the nature and name of the ship. I had to tell Marie of your profession, if not your name. She agreed to get us into the docks, but not beyond. That, to keep her trust, I have to respect.’

  Pearce wanted to say that the precaution was unnecessary. The Royal Navy had no interest in smuggling: very much the reverse, that was a job for the Revenue Service and there was no love lost between them. But there was no point.

  ‘And now you don’t have a plan?’ The silence was eloquent. ‘So we are relying on good fortune.’

  ‘I had an idea we could haul ourselves aboard by the hawser holding the ship to the mole.’ Pearce would have laughed if the situation had allowed, which it did not, as Oliphant added, ‘If the rats can do it …’

  Pearce could not resist the interruption or the barb. ‘Which leaves you the one person I know who possesses the natural and required attributes.’

  ‘Damn you,’ came the wounded reply.

  The insult did merit an apology, but none was forthcoming from a man too busy thinking. It was obvious they could not stay in France, especially with the possibility of continued pursuit, which might not have abated. Once it had been accepted they were not in Gravelines, the next obvious places to look were the ports to the north and south.

  If there was some kind of relationship between Marie – was that her real name? – and Samuel Oliphant or the newly minted Oliver, it would not extend to excessive risk. They were in a country where the penalty for nefarious activates was so far from gentle, the guillotine would be seen as clemency. What help had been given was safe to provide and no more. It now came down to their own devices and surely this was a situation where Pearce was required to come up with a solution.

  ‘If you’d clapped eyes on a hawser you’d know why a rat can climb it, where a man will most likely fall. First, if it’s been in the sea, it’s wet and covered in slime so a grip is impossible. Added to that, the weight of a human will cause it to dip and sway, making it doubly hard to keep hold of.’

  ‘I was told by a tar once it could be easily done.’

  ‘Then you were likely being practised upon. It’s a common game played on lubbers like you for the price of a pot of ale. Can you swim?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then you’d likely drown.’

  Pearce realised he was being too hard on his companion, so he set out to soften his response. ‘I daresay it has been managed for a wager and under perfect conditions, but I have no mind to make the attempt. Nor can I think of a method by which we can get aboard otherwise.’

  ‘Then we best go back to the place we dropped off and wait for the carts to return.’

  ‘Arranged?’

  ‘We won’t be turned away.’

  ‘So not arranged?’ Again there was an eloquent silence of several seconds. ‘Were you offered a way out, if you chose to go alone?’

  ‘If you’re asking if I’m a fool, the answer is yes.’

  ‘A thought you no doubt gnawed on when I was in that damned tavern, which means I’m obliged to offer up my thanks, given you did not just walk away.’

  ‘Gratitude for which, at this moment, I have little use.’

  Pearce was thinking back to the day he and his father had arrived in Calais, fleeing from England at a time before the madness of endless judicial murder gripped France. The ship that brought them from Dover had tied up at this very mole and, if he could not see it now in the darkness, he could well recall the structure. Barnacle-covered timbers below the highest tidal mark, green- and weed-covered above that line.

  ‘If you wish to retrace your steps, on your own, I will not seek to stop you.’

  The reply came with a touch of asperity. ‘Has anyone ever told you your sanctimony can be infuriating?’

  ‘Not for that, as I recall, but exasperating as a person, many times. The thing is, Oliphant, I reckon I can get aboard unseen, if I’m alone.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Listen,’ was all Pearce said, the note of alarm in his voice obvious.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The imminence of the approach, signalled by a babble of conversation, had both men dip into a pocket and produce a pistol. Next came the glim of a lantern, bouncing off the warehouse walls, before a six-strong party emerged to make their way onto the mole. The base of the derrick was substantial, as well as square, and this, combined with inching movements, allowed them to remain unseen.

  They stayed well hidden until the group was well past and had reached the first hut, into which they disappeared. There they remained for some time, before reappearing again. With everyone calling loud farewells, two of the party made their way up the gangplank, to be greeted by the lifted hat of a fellow in a blue coat, who had come to join the marine sentry. He examined their papers before escorting them further on and out of sight.

  The pair had to conceal themselves once more as the four remaining visitors made their way back, past the derrick, until they too disappeared, to become nothing more than a murmur of voices. Oliphant then repeated the question he had posed to Pearce prior to the noise of their approach, which produced an explanation and a method his companion acknowledged, albeit reluctantly, excluded any participation by him.

  ‘You have ever chafed at my being a burden, Oliphant. Now I see it as best you are relieved of the need. How long before the carts make the return journey?’
>
  ‘They must be out of the gates before six.’

  ‘When the guard changes,’ Pearce mused, Oliphant acknowledging the obvious point. Such a routine event would bring to the duty a group not in on the illegality or the bribery that had to go with it. ‘You have ample time to rejoin them.’

  ‘There’s no certainty you will succeed.’

  ‘True,’ came the reply, from someone fully aware of the risks, but one who knew he needed to sound hopeful. ‘But if you had ever been to sea, you would know uncertainty is what sailors live with every day. Capricious superiors, unpredictable weather and the hazards of battle to name but three. Added to which, my life, prior to being press-ganged, was just as precarious and I daresay your own has not been without hazard.’

  There was another noisy distraction to interrupt this whispered conversation, as the guards at the gangplank were changed, this being done with punctilious military ritual. The door of the larger hut had opened to disgorge the replacement pair, as well as an officer, who called them to attention before engaging in a fussy inspection.

  The distance to be covered might only be measured in yards, but it was done at a slow march. This was followed by the requisite shouts and salutes, as two men moved forward and the others took up their place. Those standing down were marched at a similar pace back to the hut, to be dismissed.

  ‘What to say to Dundas,’ Oliphant whispered, ‘is a subject I have raised before, and you may well get to London before me.’

  ‘You still wish to manufacture a conspiracy?’

  ‘I wish them to know there is opposition to the Jacobins, that it is well organised and a possible source of future upheaval, which might merit support.’

  ‘Which would require contact and employment for a fellow who knows how to make and maintain it.’

  ‘Perhaps a pair, rather than an individual?’

  It was an inappropriate place and situation in which to chuckle, but Pearce did just that. ‘This after I have proved to be such a liability?’

  ‘I would see you as one quick to learn.’

  ‘I can’t see fabrication as being a skill I am keen to acquire.’

  ‘Then leave it to me to paint a picture, one that will meet their aspirations.’

  ‘You are assuming us both to be in a position to do what you require. That, right now, is a distant concern.’

  The truth of that was acknowledged: neither of them might get to London, but Oliphant made the point nevertheless. ‘It would ease my mind if the matter was settled.’

  ‘I’ll seek to be obscure, indefinite, on the grounds of your being better informed and more experienced in the ability to judge matters. But the men we deal with are well able to spot anyone seeking to dissemble and deceive them. They are politicos and practise such arts on a daily basis themselves.’

  ‘I think you’ll find, Pearce, the easiest person to deceive is a habitual dissembler.’

  ‘Maybe so.’ Pearce handed over his pistol, which would be of no use to him. ‘You’d best go now.’

  The injunction was acknowledged with no more than a grunt, as if wishing his companion luck was likely to bring on the opposite. Oliphant scurried away, the sound of his departure fading quickly. Knowing he was in for a long wait, Pearce sat with his back to the derrick, facing east. It was from there the timing of his plan would be fixed, which gave him the space to wonder if he could, or should, despite what he’d said to Oliphant, concoct a tale to deceive those who’d sent both of them on this mission.

  If it was a selfish thought; it really came down to that which most favoured his own future prospects. Oliphant was bound to act likewise, there being no doubt that he would, so loyalty and honesty were not germane. In order to progress, Pearce needed employment and that came with a strong desire it should be in command of a ship.

  With time to kill, he conjured up a touch of pure make-believe, though it was a dream common to the profession, the kind of coup rarely gifted to a naval officer. He imagined the taking of a prize so valuable it would set him up for life. He and Emily would, in this reverie, be married and damn the social norms, the parents of several hearty children, domiciled in a substantial manor house, red-brick and sun-blessed, in the middle of an estate bursting with both produce and profit.

  The dream lasted long enough for him to sense, in such a situation, he would likely become quickly bored, for knew himself to be wedded to risk. He recalled the number of times his life had been in danger since that night in the Pelican, as well as the feeling induced: that of being fully alive.

  As a boy and budding youth, he’d had a precarious, peripatetic existence, on the move with his father, a man known for his passionate polemical speeches and pamphlets, and not always with affection, as the Edinburgh Ranter. Addressing a crowd, he was as likely to be booed as cheered for the message he sought to convey to those he saw as exploited and downtrodden. If such a life had periods of boredom, it had also flared up many times into sudden and dangerous excitement. Naval service felt the same.

  A hint of grey to the east told him the time had come to make his move, so it was once more necessary to concentrate on the activities aboard the cartel vessel. The bell, which had pealed intermittently throughout the night, rang eight times, which would bring on a change of watch. Not that it would mean leisure for those who’d been on duty. If the captain decided, once he’d seen the sky and assessed the state of the weather, to cast off from the mole, they would be required to participate. It would be all hands to unmoor and get the ship out to sea.

  He took off the too tight black jacket, running over in his mind the various activities said manoeuvre required. The ship was prow on to the shore, so the first task of much of the crew would be to take to the boats. They must bring round her head to face the gap between the twin breakwaters, these forming a reasonably safe anchorage against most winds and currents, including the prevailing westerlies.

  Even with a favourable wind, and Pearce could feel the chill of the north-easterly on his face, those boats would continue warping the ship, beyond the chance of fouling anything anchored, or drifting too close to the stones of a breakwater. Only then would a wise captain drop his topsails for a cautious exit to the open sea, not that all peril would have been laid to rest.

  He recalled the approach he’d witnessed years ago, one of careful and slow calculation. There were dangerous sandbanks just offshore, marked by buoys to show the safe channels for both entry and exit. Such underwater obstacles tended to shift over time and could be made even more hazardous by a sudden gust of wind, a common occurrence in these waters.

  There was a degree of speculation in his aims, but he reassured himself they were based on knowledge, not wishful thinking. He could put himself in the position of the fellow in command, carrying out a movement he had personally overseen many times. Various commands were being issued, far from faint, even at a distance. The orders had gone out to haul in the boats to seaward and in that lay his opportunity, the one he’d outlined to Oliphant.

  The boat crew must climb down the man ropes and battens to take their places. By that method they would get back on deck again once their task was complete, which left the gangway open. As the ship was hauled off the mole, what tars remained would be engaged in fetching in the mooring cables, which put them below decks, either on the capstan or laying out said cables in the bitts. With good fortune and everyone occupied, he could get aboard without being seen.

  That omitted several possible negatives. If timing was essential, the ability to match his actions to those of others was far from straightforward, this while he was immersed in water he knew to be seriously cold and that could hamper movement. The tow would be at the prow, swinging the bow round being the primary task, the mole cables only being cast off when the tow ropes took up the strain.

  Those plying the oars would hopefully be too preoccupied with the task, not an easy one, of getting a vessel of many tons to begin to move. Would they see a head in the water in a harbour likely to
be full of flotsam? Pearce had to get between them and the ship before it was hauled too far round and away; any attempt to board had to be made out of sight of the guard detail or the officials on the mole.

  Being spotted by them, with the officers aboard alerted, would see him hauled out and handed over, a requirement of the conditions of service as outlined to him by Oliphant. A strictly neutral obligation meant his nationality would provide no shield; the only person choosing such a way to depart France must be either an enemy of the regime, a spy or an escapee.

  The boats should be awaiting the men to man them, for him the signal to act, and it would surely come soon. The captain would want to make as much use of daylight as possible in order to try to complete the entire crossing before darkness fell. The wind might be favourable now, but it could turn foul at any time, in waters notorious for fast-changing and unpredictable weather. Few were the harbours that could be entered with any degree of safety at night. Dover was one, with its own well-documented and lethal peculiarities, contrary currents on an exposed headland that made such a landfall one of high risk even in the daytime.

  A shouted order was forthcoming, which had to be the one for which he was waiting. The last thing for Pearce to discard were his loose-fitting shoes, which would hamper him in the water; he left them by the derrick. Off came his stockings too. He then crawled to the edge of the mole, easing himself over, his body hidden behind one of the great, square upright pile-driven baulks that secured the edifice to the seabed.

  He could recall the nature of the mole, even if it had been observed a long time past. Easing in aboard the ship, and a curious youth, he had spotted the horizontal gaps, formed over time between the lateral timbers, places where he hoped, with both hands and feet, he could get a grip, using them to lower himself down to the water. Jumping in was a sure and noisy way to alert those he sought to avoid.