Secrets of the Fearless

by Elizabeth Laird

  She stopped, embarrassed.

  ‘The Marquis de Vaumas,’ remarked Captain Dupré, addressing the ceiling as if he was talking to himself, ‘is well known in all of Paris to be like a little dog – ’e runs, ’e runs after the men in power. Always ’e is trying to make ’imself rich. And not always by honesty.’ He dropped his eyes and looked at Kit. ‘It is a great tragedy, mademoiselle, that your esteemed father came so early to such a sad death. France lost a good son, and you a noble father.’

  Under John’s shocked, embarrassed eyes, Kit burst into tears. She tried to control them, but could not, and dropped her face into her hands while her shoulders shook with sobs.

  The effect on the men surrounding her was immediate. Captain Bannerman cleared his throat, gave a loud, embarrassed ‘Harrumph’, produced a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose vigorously. Captain Dupré shook his head sorrowfully, and murmured, ‘Pauvre petite, pauvre petite,’ over and over again. Mr Erskine, more practical than the others, pulled his own handkerchief out of his sleeve and pressed it into Kit’s hand.

  ‘Your emotion is understandable,’ he said firmly, ‘but we are busy men, Catherine, and we are waiting. Please compose yourself and proceed.’

  This bracing speech had its desired effect. Kit hiccupped, and made a valiant effort to calm herself. John’s own feelings struggled inside him as he watched Kit master hers. His resentment had quite gone now. The loneliness and desperation in Kit’s small, crumpled figure had touched him in a way his old friend Kit could never have done. He was ashamed now of the way he had rejected her, and wanted to make amends. He bent down and whispered in her ear, hardly knowing what he was saying, ‘You’d best stop crying or you’ll flood the captain’s cabin and spoil his carpet. You’ll be on bread and water for a week.’

  Kit gave a watery smile and looked up at John gratefully. She swabbed her cheeks with Mr Erskine’s handkerchief, wiped her nose and handed it back to him. Mr Erskine took it between his thumb and forefinger and dropped it on the table.

  ‘I’m very sorry,’ Kit said. ‘I didn’t mean to cry. It was what you said, sir, about my father.’

  ‘Yes, well, never mind that,’ Captain Bannerman said loudly. ‘Don’t start the taps flowing again, for God’s sake. Your tale, miss, if you please. This ship doesn’t run itself.’

  Kit sat up straight.

  ‘To be brief, sir, last year, when I was twelve years old, my grandmother told me that I was to be betrothed to my uncle’s son.’

  The captain’s eyebrows rose.

  ‘Betrothed? So young?’

  ‘Yes, sir. In France, it is possible to marry very young. My cousin, she was wed when she was twelve.’ Captain Bannerman muttered something inaudible. Kit looked questioningly at him, and he nodded at her to carry on. ‘If I’d submitted, and been betrothed to my cousin, my uncle would have had legal control over my inheritance, which up to now he has been enjoying only illegally.’

  ‘Ah –’ Mr Erskine nodded – ‘I begin to understand.’

  ‘I refused absolutely.’ Kit shuddered. ‘My cousin Hubert is only seventeen years old, but he is already known for his vile temper and cruelty. Once I saw him kill his own horse when the animal displeased him. He—’

  ‘Yes, yes, the boy’s a brute and you refused him. Very understandable,’ interrupted Captain Bannerman. ‘But that was not, I take it, the end of the matter?’

  ‘No, sir. My grandmother and my uncle tried every means to force me to accept. I was beaten, starved, locked in a dark cupboard and – well, many other things. I tried to write to my mother’s family in England, but by that time England and France were at war and the postal service was suspended. While I was looking for a way to send my letter, my grandmother found it. Her anger was so terrible that I decided I had to run away.’

  ‘And why in heaven’s name did you choose to run away to sea? To dress as a boy, fight against your own country, submit to the hard life of a sailor and endanger your life in battle?’ demanded Captain Bannerman. ‘It’s a fate which most sensible men will run a hundred miles to avoid.’

  ‘I did not choose it, sir. Betsy, she . . . well, she has a cousin who – I hope I do not betray him, sir, – who deals in contraband wine and brandy. He has friends on the coast near here, at a village called Lacanau. He comes secretly in his little boat, fetches off barrels and transports them to the coast of Kent.’

  ‘In short, the fellow’s a damned smuggler,’ growled the captain.

  ‘Yes, sir. Betsy asked him to smuggle me to England. To make my escape from the chateau and my journey to the coast easier, she borrowed boys’ clothes and dressed me in them. She took me to the beach at Lacanau and I went out to sea with the smugglers. But before we could land in Britain, we were stopped by a British naval vessel, and all of us were pressed into the navy.’

  ‘Why didn’t you reveal your true identity to the recruiting officer?’ asked Mr Erskine, puzzled.

  ‘I was afraid.’ Kit looked down. ‘Perhaps it was foolish of me, but I had heard how sailors treat young women. I did not think my story would be believed. On the receiving ship, some of the men were very drunk, sir. To have shown myself to be a girl – I didn’t dare. Acting has always come easily to me. I believed I could assume the character of a boy without detection. And then, when I had been assigned to the Fearless, and had become servant to Mr Tawse, I saw that I could be safe here. This ship is famous in the fleet for the justice of its captain and the happiness of the crew.’

  John glanced at her, wondering if she was merely trying to flatter Captain Bannerman, but she was looking down at her hands, her expression perfectly serious, and speaking no more than the truth.

  ‘Carry on, miss,’ Captain Bannerman blustered. ‘No need for all that,’ but John could see that he was pleased.

  ‘I knew,’ Kit went on, ‘that no one would think to look for me here. It was the safest place for me to be. After all, even if I had reached England, I did not know if my English relatives would be any kinder to me than my French ones. But here – Mr Tawse and Mr Barton – they truly care for the boys and treat them well. It is only a few months till my fourteenth birthday. By the terms of my father’s will, I will be independent then, and able to decide my own fate. If there is anything left of my inheritance, after the years of my uncle’s guardianship, it will come to me. I planned to keep myself concealed on the Fearless until then. I have done my work as well as I could, sir. Mr Tawse has never complained of me.’

  Captain Dupré leaned forward.

  ‘Your story, mademoiselle, is very affecting, but there is one thing that I cannot understand. By joining the Royal Navy, you have taken up arms against your own country. You are a Frenchwoman. ’Ow is it that you permit yourself to fight on the side of France’s enemy against your own patrie?’

  Kit frowned, and the flash in her eyes took John by surprise. He had known Kit to be quiet and pensive, and at other times cheekily comical, but he had never seen aristocratic haughtiness in her face before.

  ‘I am not fighting against France, a country which I love, but against Napoleon Bonaparte, the warmonger that rules her!’ she declared. ‘In any case, I have no reason to be loyal to my patrie, as you call it. My father was murdered. My mother died of grief. My uncle has robbed me and my grandmother wants to marry me to a monster. I wish only for peace between the countries of my parents, but that will never be while Napoleon wages war. I wish for England to defeat him, and then I wish for France to be at peace and to be happy.’

  ‘Well said, miss! Well said!’ shouted Captain Bannerman, clapping his hands with delight and shooting a triumphant glance across the polished mahogany table at Captain Dupré, who was frowning down at the backs of his hands as if he had suddenly discovered a blemish on them. ‘And now, young lady, what are we going to do with you, eh, eh?’

  ‘Please, sir.’ Kit was twisting her hands together. ‘I would prefer it if I could be Kit Smith again, and go on as Mr Tawse’s servant.’

&nb
sp; The captain pondered, puffing out his red cheeks.

  ‘Stay on board you must, for the time being, as there’s no means of getting you off, but females on my ship is what I can’t abide. Trouble follows the petticoats like night follows day. No, no. Not another word. Sooner or later a frigate will come with our orders, and it will take the Courageux in tow to England. We’ll pack you off in her, send you home to England and put you in charge of your mother’s people. You can learn your music and work at your embroidery like a decent young woman should.’

  ‘But, sir . . .’

  ‘Enough!’ roared Captain Bannerman. ‘Marquis’s daughter you may be, you grubby little powder monkey, but under my discipline you remain, do you hear?’

  His face was becoming alarmingly red, but before he could continue, there was a scratching at the door. A marine entered, saluted smartly and said, ‘Bosun’s mate to see the cap’n. Mr Higgins requests a word.’

  The ire in the captain’s eyes died instantly. He whistled softly and looked across at Mr Erskine.

  ‘Requests a word, eh? The devil he does. Tell him he can wait.’

  Mr Erskine stood up and said smoothly to Captain Dupré, ‘Would you oblige us by stepping outside, sir? It’s a fine morning, is it not, for a stroll about the quarterdeck?’

  Captain Dupré lifted a sardonic eyebrow.

  ‘You are very polite, monsieur, but to a prisoner such as myself a request is of course an order.’

  He gave a small bow and went out.

  ‘And you two,’ the captain said, pointing in turn to John and Kit. ‘Out.’

  ‘Excuse me, sir.’ Mr Erskine lifted a hand. ‘If Higgins sees them – especially John Barr – here in your cabin, will his suspicions not be aroused? He may suspect that we know of the whole business with the satchel and the code book.’

  ‘Sharp of you, Mr Erskine,’ the captain rumbled. ‘What’s to be done with them, eh?’

  ‘Nothing for it, sir, but to stow them in your sleeping cabin.’

  Captain Bannerman’s massive eyebrows bristled.

  ‘Powder monkeys in my sleeping cabin? Oh very well, Mr Erskine. Since there’s no help for it.’ He wagged a meaty forefinger at John and Kit. ‘You touch anything, or make a noise, or shuffle about, and I’ll have you flogged round the fleet do you hear?’

  ‘Aye aye . . .’ began John, but before he could add ‘sir’ Mr Erskine had already opened the door at the side of the great cabin and pushed them both inside.

  Chapter Twenty

  It was dark in the sleeping cabin. Even in here, the captain’s inner sanctum, half of the space was taken up by a great twelve-pounder gun on its heavy wooden cradle. Only a little light penetrated round the edge of the closed gun port, and by it John could see a box-like bed slung from the rafters. Catherine had already seated herself on the side of the gun carriage. John perched beside her.

  ‘Kit – I mean, Catherine – I’m sorry, I’ve been so horrible,’ he whispered.

  He heard her take a deep breath.

  ‘Don’t. It doesn’t matter. It was a shock for you, I know. And please go on calling me Kit. Are you sure you don’t feel angry with me any more?’

  He nudged her, as he had so often done in the past, then felt embarrassed at having touched a girl.

  ‘No. Just . . . amazed. And impressed. I don’t know how you did it, keeping it secret, pretending all the time. It was so dangerous too.’

  ‘Dangerous? Nothing is dangerous compared to being married to my cousin, believe me. Shh! That’s Mr Higgins’s voice. Can you hear what they are saying?’

  The voices from the great cabin next door were only just audible through the close-fitting door of the sleeping cabin, and John and Kit had to strain to hear.

  ‘Fresh water, eh?’ Captain Bannerman was demanding. ‘Running short? You surprise me, man. We received fresh water only last week from our supply ship. I would have thought the casks would be all but full.’

  ‘Oh they was, sir, they was indeed. But by an unlucky chance, during the battle, sir, they was dislodged, and leaked, sir. We’ll be in a pickle, Captain Bannerman, and Mr Erskine sir, if we don’t get no water soon, what with all them thirsty Frenchies drinkin’ up our supplies.’

  John had never heard the cringing note in Mr Higgins’s voice before, and the sound of it made his flesh creep.

  ‘And what do you propose to do about this watery crisis, Mr Higgins?’ Mr Erskine sounded amused.

  ‘Well, sir, by a lucky chance, I was talkin’ to the bosun of the Courageux . . .’

  ‘Speak French, do you, Mr Higgins?’ the captain asked drily.

  Mr Higgins gave a fulsome laugh.

  ‘French, sir? Oh no, not me, sir. Never ’ad the advantage of no education. The Courageux’s bosun, ’e speaks English, of a sort. Was in the wine trade, trading into Rye before the war. ’E was as concerned as I am, sir, about thirst afflictin’ the men. Comes from these parts, ’e does, from around Bordeaux. Told me of a spring be’ind the sand dunes, very near ’ere. Quite deserted it is. ’E gave me very precise directions. It occurred to me, sir, that if I was to take a small party of men ashore, under cover of darkness maybe, along with as many casks as we can transport, I could, so to speak, rectify the situation, sir.’

  ‘Now let me understand you correctly, Mr Higgins. You are proposing to land secretly in France, under the noses of the French coastguards, who are undoubtedly patrolling these shores, thereby putting your very life in danger? Heroic, Mr Higgins, I must say. A bold move. Very bold.’

  Mr Higgins coughed modestly.

  ‘Ah, but, sir, for the sake of the Fearless and all who sail in her . . .’

  The captain seemed suddenly tired of the bosun’s mate’s obsequious manner.

  ‘Very good, very well,’ he said impatiently. ‘If you wish to play the hero, you shall. Tonight, then, under cover of darkness, we will approach closer in to the French coast on the high tide, put you off with your empty casks and pick you up before dawn. How many men do you wish to take with you?’

  ‘Six should be sufficient.’ John could hear ill-concealed triumph in Mr Higgins’s voice. ‘I’ve got my eye on the right ones. Good men. Trustworthy. Powerful strong enough to ’eave about full casks all night, they are, sir.’

  ‘Very good. Mr Erskine will supervise the loading of the empty casks into one of the boats.’

  ‘Mr Erskine?’ John could hear surprise and dismay in Mr Higgins’s voice. ‘No need for ’im to trouble ’imself, captain. I can do it easy myself.’

  ‘Not at all, Mr Higgins,’ Mr Erskine chimed in breezily. ‘If you are to be a hero, the least I can do is to prepare your vessel. Now you no doubt have other duties to attend to?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.’

  There was a scraping sound as Mr Erskine pushed back his chair and the squeak of Mr Higgins’s shoes on the floorboards, then a click as the door of the great cabin opened and another as it shut. John expected that at any moment Mr Erskine would let them out, but nothing happened. He could hear the low murmur of Mr Erskine’s voice, without being able to follow the words. The captain, easier to hear, said, ‘Yes, by Jove, an excellent plan,’ once or twice, and, ‘Are you sure they are to be trusted with such a delicate mission?’ but he could make out nothing more.

  At last the door opened and John and Kit stepped back out into the great cabin, blinking in the strong light.

  For a moment or two there was silence. Mr Erskine was looking doubtfully at Kit, and Captain Bannerman was frowning under his heavy brows.

  ‘How is your wound? Does it trouble you much?’ Mr Erskine asked Kit unexpectedly.

  Kit moved her left shoulder experimentally, and successfully hid a wince.

  ‘It’s nearly better, sir. I feel quite strong now.’

  ‘Good. Good.’

  Silence fell again.

  Captain Bannerman cleared his throat.

  ‘You are to listen carefully to what I say,’ he began importantly. ‘If the slightest h
int of this matter crosses your lips to any person whatsoever, I shall have you flogged. Do you understand?’

  The severity in his voice and the intensity of his frown made John open his eyes in alarm.

  ‘The copy of the code book found in your satchel,’ Captain Bannerman went on, ‘was returned to London, as you know, some time ago. It has proved be of quite exceptional value in interpreting the secret messages of the French, which from time to time fall into British hands.’

  John couldn’t help a proud smile breaking out on his face.

  ‘Yes, yes, very good,’ Captain Bannerman said, noticing it, ‘but there’s to be no resting on laurels. You are now required to do more, much more, in the service of your country.’ He puffed out his chest, and John could see that he was preparing to make one of his stirring speeches. ‘Times are desperate. Every loyal subject of His Majesty, every man and . . . er, woman . . . must now prove themselves to be true sons – and daughters – of . . .’ He caught Mr Erskine’s eye, and checked himself in mid flow. ‘Mr Erskine, proceed,’ he said, shaking his jowls.

  Switching his eyes from the captain to the first lieutenant, John caught the tail end of a smile on Mr Erskine’s face, but it quickly gave way to an expression of the utmost seriousness.

  ‘The thing is, both of you,’ Mr Erskine said, ‘that there is something particular, something difficult and dangerous, that we want you to do. We received dispatches from London two weeks ago. They informed us that the men in Edinburgh who had possession of the code book are probably part of a conspiracy of spies working for Napoleon. Mr Higgins, we believe, is a very minor player in this game. He has most probably been tempted to betray his country with the promise of money. But there are others, much more deadly, and much more powerful, of whom our government is extremely anxious to know more.’

  ‘We wish to arrest them, you mean, sir?’ asked John.