Hanging Matter

by David Donachie

  “Let it,” said James. “And may our host shortly follow.”

  Harry did as he was bidden, though like James he cared nothing for the casement. But what he was about needed to be kept secret from those above his head. Pender was digging away. He turned to Harry, who was holding the catch, and the enquiring look on his master’s face produced a wide grin. “Always go through the hinges, your honour. They’re usually a sight easier than the lock.”

  There was a slow wrenching sound as the frame came away from the surround. A blast of cold air greeted them as they spun the casement and lifted the window inboard.

  “The wind is still in the north-east,” said Harry.

  “Is that a good thing?” asked Major Franks, who’d left his wife’s side in an attempt to discover what Harry was looking at. But he was thwarted, both for an answer and a view, by the other man’s body, hanging half out of the casement, searching the moonlit sea for the other vessel. He saw her, a ghostly presence in the blue light, just abaft the beam. He’d altered course, sailing large with full advantage of the wind, and he was still overhauling the Planet.

  The cloud that suddenly covered the moon had the effect of a light going out, plunging the cabin into complete darkness. Harry watched as the other ship hauled round, no doubt aware that the clouds beginning to cover the sky would make the Planet near invisible. Harry watched as the darkness raced across the sea between the ships, felt the Planet heel as Bertles put his helm down. He could hear the creak of the maincourse yard as it was hauled round to change the ship’s heading. The sails on the other ship turned from ghostly white to a black and threatening silhouette, with an ever decreasing strip of pale blue light behind it.

  It was a perfect situation for Bertles to evade his pursuer. For though they could still see him, it was doubtful if their pursuer could see the Planet. Harry pulled himself back through the frame, vigorously rubbing his bare hands together, trying to get them warm, before addressing the blackness of the interior.

  “I cannot say if it’s a good thing for us, but Bertles has at least won some time. We may, at last, find out what he intends.”

  “Would it be an idea to put that winder back, your honour?” said Pender. “No sense in letting them know what we’ve been about.”

  “Make it so, Pender.”

  “Let me help,” said James, stepping forward.

  “God help anyone who leans on this, Mr James,” said Pender. “They’ll be pitched into the wake and drown for sure.”

  Slightly breathless from his exertions, James’s reply had none of the usual languid sarcasm. “If the swine who owns the window goes near it, push him hard.”

  Most of that long winter night was spent in a series of elaborate manoeuvres. Harry lost track of the number of times that Bertles altered course in his attempt to evade his pursuers. Despite endless speculation, with Wentworth barely pausing for breath as he complained loudly at being ill used, no one could advance a convincing reason as to why they were in such a situation.

  Harry felt the way come off the ship and knew they were heaving to. The scrape of the cutter was clearly audible as it was pulled alongside and he heard the creak of loaded ropes running through blocks as it was hauled aboard. He peered out of the salt-streaked sternlights. The sky was now only half obscured by cloud, with the silver linings giving off a small amount of light. He turned to look at his fellow passengers. They sat silent, rocking on the swell, wondering what would happen next.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  AS THE DOOR swung open, the shaded lantern faintly illuminating the cabin gave enough light to show Bertles’s long pepper and salt hair and the two tufts on his cheekbones, making him look like a ghost. The pistol that came up in his hand brooked no argument. “Out of here, the lot of you.”

  They filed out of the cabin on to the deck. Harry could see their sea-chests were piled by the gangway. Men were lifting barrels aboard, obviously from the jolly-boat which they’d been towing since the pursuit began. As he stood there trying to make sense of what was happening two sailors came out behind him carrying the possessions of Major and Mrs Franks.

  “I should wrap up warm, ma’am,” said Bertles, taking Polly Franks’s cloak and draping it round her. “For it’s a chill night and likely to get even colder.”

  “What are you about, Bertles?” snapped Harry.

  “Why, it’s time for us to part company, Ludlow.”

  “Part company, man? We’re in the middle of the North Sea,” said James angrily.

  “Then ain’t it handy your brother bein’ a privateer.”

  Harry stared hard at him, wondering how he knew that, as James made to move forward. But two seamen grabbed his arms to restrain him. Bertles stuck the pistol into his stomach. Then his eyes turned to Harry. “I owe you for that clout you gave me earlier, Ludlow.”

  Harry’s heart was in his mouth. Then felt Pender push his knife, blade forward, into his hand. He kept his voice as steady as he could. “Then take it out on me, sir, not my brother.”

  “How can I, Ludlow? I intend to put you lot over the side in that there boat. Without you to navigate, this little party will die. I wouldn’t want to have that on my conscience, now would I? But this here brother of yours is only a painter, an’ has been very vocal as to how he’s useless at sea.”

  James’s voice was even and phlegmatic, almost bored. “If you’re going to pull the trigger, Bertles, do so. But spare us your observations, and most of all the idea that you possess a conscience.”

  The captain’s knee came up and took him hard in the groin. He doubled up in agony and Bertles whipped his head with the pistol. Not hard, but enough to knock over a man already bent double. He stood over his writhing victim, breathing heavily, though his exertions had been slight. Harry watched the gun closely, ready to lunge at him with Pender’s knife.

  “Pull the trigger, indeed. What does he take me for, a murderer?”

  He lifted his eyes to meet Harry’s again, but the gun stayed where it was, hanging by his side.

  “I’d say we’re all square, Ludlow.”

  Pender’s mouth was close to his ear, the whisper quiet but urgent. “It’s all show, your honour. He’s doin’ it to impress his crew.”

  Being at the front of the group Harry couldn’t reply, nor could he agree, much as he trusted his servant’s instincts. Polly Franks had gasped when Bertles hit James. Now she was sobbing quietly on her husband’s shoulder. Bertles lifted the pistol again and tucked it under her chin, forcing it up. Her husband moved to intervene but the gun was on him in a second. When Bertles spoke, it was to Polly Franks, and her alone.

  “It could be worse. Maybe you’d like to stay aboard the Planet with me.” She looked away in disgust, burying her head in the major’s shoulder again. “You’d get pleasure from it, Polly Franks, that I do assure you. Happen you’d get to chew on one of them balls you was on about earlier.”

  Bertles laughed and turned to include his silent crew. None of them seemed to share his merriment. Having observed this, the captain looked down at James, who lay still on the ground, his hands held between his legs.

  “I should say his’ll be a fair size in the morning, mind. Happen you should go along after all.”

  That did produce the odd smile from the crew. Harry stepped forward, the knife tucked out of sight up his arm. Bertles stepped back, but he wasn’t in any way alarmed.

  “He’s all yours, Mr Ludlow. Or should I say Captain Ludlow, since you’re about to take command of a boat again?”

  Harry helped James to his feet and led him over to the side of the ship so that he could lean on the bulwarks.

  “Stuff’s all aboard,” said one of the men.

  “Right, get their chests into the jolly-boat.” His men didn’t rush to obey as he turned his attention back to his passengers. Everything they did was undertaken with a palpable air of reluctance.

  “I’ve provisioned her with water and biscuit for two days. That should be more’n enough to get
you to a landfall.”

  “What’s our position?” asked Harry.

  “Don’t rightly know, with all that twistin’ and turning,” said Bertles. He was smiling again, about to crack another joke. “But it won’t be hard, will it, Ludlow? You just wait for daylight. If you want to go to France you head into it. If you want to go to England, sail the other way. There’s a mast in the boat, and canvas. Failing the wind, you can use the oars.”

  “I think, on balance, we’d all rather stay aboard.”

  “That’s not an available choice. I’ve got to go blue water for a bit, and I don’t want a load of snivelling passengers along.”

  The murmur from the crew was faint, but it was there.

  “Who are you running from, Bertles?” asked Harry.

  “Who says I’m running?” he growled.

  “All that twisting and turning, not to mention the way you cut your cable …”

  With his men now shifting from foot to foot, Bertles looked at the cloudy sky, broken in the distance. “Never you mind, Ludlow. Just you get yourself into the jolly-boat. ’Cause if you don’t I’ll throw the lot of you over the side. I can’t expect these clouds to hide me forever.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” said Wentworth, who’d not uttered a word since they’d come on deck. Now he’d pulled himself erect, hat in hand, his fair hair lifting slightly in the breeze and the light from Bertles’s shaded lantern flashing off his spectacles.

  “Well, ain’t you now?” said Bertles, amused.

  “I’ve paid for my passage, sir,” said the young man, squaring his shoulders even more. “And I demand you take us to our destination.”

  Bertles looked round the assembled faces in wonder. “Lord in heaven, the next thing you know he’ll be demanding his money back.” He turned to a pair of the sailors guarding them. “Throw that cheeky young bastard into the boat.”

  “Captain Bertles!” cried Wentworth.

  That angered him. His head shook as he shouted at the young man. “Stow your gab, or by God I’ll order ’em to throw you and miss.”

  For the first time Harry knew that Pender was right. The man’s actions were all for show. But Bertles would kill one of them if he had to. He needed his crew more than he needed his passengers. Harry moved between them, took the young man’s arm, and led him over to the rail to stand beside his brother, still bent double from Bertles’s blow.

  “Come, Mr Wentworth. If this wind holds, in a sound boat with a decent sail, we’ll beat Captain Bertles to the Downs.”

  Bertles was clearly relieved by Harry’s intervention, so much so that he made another heavy-handed attempt at humour. “There you are, Mr Wentworth. Happen I should charge you Post rates.”

  “Are you all right, James?” said Harry softly, turning away from a very dissatisfied Wentworth. His brother nodded slowly. “Pender, help my brother into the boat. Major Franks, please ensure that both you and your wife are well wrapped up. You too, Mr Wentworth.”

  The sailors had stowed their chests. Harry stood at the gangway and helped the others down into the boat, which rocked gently on the swell. Less than ten feet from stem to stern, there was barely enough room for them all and the combined weight of passengers and baggage would take the gunwales perilously close to the waterline. He was just about to get down himself when Bertles took his arm, pulling him close.

  “No doubt you think I’m a treacherous bastard, Ludlow.” Harry just looked at him without replying, so Bertles continued. “What’s in your mind don’t bother me none. But I’ll tell you this. I’m doin’ you a favour. You’ve seen that ship that was after us. Well, let me tell you our destination ain’t no great secret. If she shows her topsails above your horizon, then forget the Downs. You put your helm down and get as far away as you can. You’ll be safer in France than on that deck.”

  With that Bertles turned away and gave the order to make sail.

  As soon as they were away from the side of the ship, Harry set about altering the balance of the jolly-boat, moving chests and people to bring her down by the stern so that his rudder would bite. Mrs Franks and the major occupied the thwarts near the bow, with James and Wentworth amidships. Harry and Pender, with most of the baggage, sat in the stern, which allowed them to swing the boom of the small triangular sail without asking anyone to shift.

  The Planet had disappeared in minutes, swallowed up by the night. It was impossible for Harry to see in the dark, but experience helped as he lashed the top of the triangular sail to the top of the mast. Then he stepped it, pushing it through the grommets on the boom, with Pender helping him to get it upright. As he worked, looping the line on to the wood through the eyelets in the sail, the others sat in complete silence, still like statues, as though numb. That was probably true in the case of the Franks and Wentworth, but he knew James was just waiting for him to finish his task. Nothing would stop his brother from asking about their situation. James waited till he had set the sail and hauled it taut, careful about the setting for he wished to keep their speed to a minimum.

  “Are we done, Harry?”

  “We’re not badly off, James. The boat seems sound enough, the weather is clement, and the wind is in our favour.”

  “Was what you said to Mr Wentworth aboard the Planet the truth?”

  “We would be better off with a stronger wind,” said Harry, looking at the sky. “And I don’t doubt in these waters we’ll get one before long. If it stays in the east, then we’ll be in England in time for dinner.”

  Harry could almost feel James’s disbelief. His brother was always complaining about his sanguine nature. But at sea he would be at a loss to disagree. That, and the need not to alarm the others, kept him silent. And Harry didn’t feel like further explanation. Their situation held no terrors for him at all, provided the weather held. He’d been afloat most of his life, since his father entered him on the books of his man-o’-war as a ship’s boy. His years in the King’s Navy had included many an occasion when he found himself in a small boat, well out of sight of land.

  “I do not wish to sail her too hard till daylight, since I don’t know our position, though I’ll be able to have a guess at a suitable heading if the sky clears.”

  “The stars?” asked Major Franks.

  “The conjunction of Arcturus and Vega will suffice, Major!”

  The edge of the cloud covering the moon grew steadily more luminous, which made the cloud itself, as the sea around them, look ever more black and threatening. The moon suddenly lit up the southern horizon with a silver glow and Harry saw the tips of the three masts right away. He could not be sure it was the same ship, but what Bertles had said had stayed with him. The captain of the Planet knew the ship, and he knew who commanded her. He was so afraid of whoever that was he was even avoiding his home port.

  Harry was very confident of his ability to get the jolly-boat and its passengers to a safe landfall. But after the events of the night, still a mystery, he wasn’t sure what fate would await them if they went aboard the ship chasing the Planet, a ship that had been anchored off the shore without lights. Bertles had seemed decent enough until things turned against him. It was all a question of what credence you gave his parting words. Harry ran them over in his mind, and as he recalled the urgency and fear in Bertles’s voice he made his decision. They were safer where they were, where all the factors were known. He hauled on the boom, put the tiller down, and did his very best to stay out of the approaching ring of bright moonlight.

  “Harry …?”

  James had also seen the ship. “Quiet, James. And that goes for all of you. Pender, stand by to get the mast down double quick.”

  His servant was no doubt as mystified as James, but he didn’t question Harry Ludlow’s orders. If Major Franks harboured any doubts, he held them in check, prepared to bow to another professional, clearly at home in his own field. But Wentworth, as talkative as ever, was not to be silenced. “I don’t recall us electing you to lead us, Mr Ludlow.”

 
“Was there time?” snapped Harry.

  “That is neither here nor there, sir. We have a ship close by, which will surely prove a safer haven than this small boat.”

  “I think it’s the ship that was chasing Bertles.”

  Wentworth’s voice grew louder and even more querulous. “Then all the more reason to hail them, surely.”

  “Captain Bertles said we’d do better to avoid them.”

  “And you believed him, sir!”

  Harry’s voice was hard, for he could see the illogicality of his action with the same degree of clarity that affected Wentworth. And he needed to still his own doubts as well as those of the younger man.

  “I have no time for explanations, Mr Wentworth. But as the only person capable of getting us safely to shore, I will exercise the right to steer the boat anywhere I want. Now you shall oblige me by remaining silent, for sound carries a long way at sea.”

  “I will—”

  Harry cut off his protest at once. “Otherwise I will be forced to gag you.”

  “This is an outrage.”

  “Do be quiet, Mr Wentworth,” said James, “or I fear I shall be the one given the task.”

  “I shall abide by whatever decision you make,” said Franks.

  “Thank you, Major,” said Harry.

  That show of support effectively silenced Wentworth. The jolly-boat heeled as they sailed into the wind. Harry took several turns on the rope to tighten the sail, then sat on the counter, using his weight to steady the boat. They were moving faster now, as Harry sought both darkness and distance. They might spot him, but even if they did, he hoped he’d be far enough distant to avoid investigation. It all depended on how keen the captain of that barque was on finding Bertles.

  The light from the moon, behind that shifting cloud, was coming their way. Harry called to Pender, unlashed the boom so that the sail flapped uselessly, and pushed the tiller to bring her round, bows on to the swell. Then he stood to help take the mast down.