Ainslie thought I might be correct, in time.
“Not now, Mr Jackson. We are in a boom, prices rising high and quickly. A bubble, in fact. Share prices are rising hard on the back of rumours of a peace and of a great expansion of trade with Europe. I am selling out and turning my all into coin, very quickly. Bubbles burst, in my experience, Mr Jackson, particularly those based on political rumour. I have done the same for your interests, Mr McKay following my lead, and my orders!”
I explained then the contracts I had entered into in New York.
Sir Alexander was inclined to approve. We could certainly organise the Bombay end and he was in favour of examining the Persian trade. He could not see precisely why we were necessary to the business.
“We are a virtuous front, sir. The bulk of the funds involved – in the purchase of ships and the initial provision of ingot silver until the South American trade is arranged – comes from the Red Triad. My lord is now well established in New York, having property there and some sort of business – what is none of my affair. He is, however, unable to show his face for being Chinese. The Americans have less love of the foreign than we do and will not tolerate them in their public life. The firm of Ainslie is respectable and perfectly acceptable in New York; the triad is not. We will take our cut, sir, primarily in the form of wheat coming into Liverpool, and in exchange shall appear to be the source of all funds behind the trade.”
It seemed good to Sir Alexander.
“What of your ship, Mr Jackson, Pearl River?”
I had heard nothing in the States, naturally enough, and there was nothing waiting at Shawford. I had arranged that Captain Eccles should contact McKay and he would have forwarded any communication to wait for me at the Manor.
“I have no great hopes of Pearl River, I will confess, sir. I have taken a few thousand from her and will be surprised to hear more from that source. Has there been any public reference to her?”
“Almost nothing that I have seen other than a mention in the Naval Gazette of an adjudication at the Antigua prize court of a capture – a Dane laden with contraband for the Mauritius and hence fair prize. The Gazette commented that she was the richest taken into Antigua this past year, carrying naval stores now put to British use rather than French.”
“Very virtuous, sir. She fired at our hull when Pearl River hailed her, so had a guilty conscience at minimum.”
“Could she have thought you to be a pirate?”
“Not in those waters, sir. Piracy is hardly to be discovered outside of the Indian Ocean and the Orient these days. I am told there are small picaroons still working the Sugar Islands, privateers in name if not in deed, but the waters of the Atlantic are within reason clear. The Bombay Marine has done much to tidy up the nests that were to be found on Madagascar but there are still some freebooters there. The Arab slavers will turn pirate at the drop of a hat but would hardly attack a great ship except they are in fleet, which is rare, their dhows normally sailing two or three together. East of the Bay of Bengal the waters teem with pirates. All this is well known to seamen. They would not consider a ship hailing them off the Slave Coast to be other than legitimate.”
“Good. The thing is, Denmark is havering at the moment, might ally itself with France as easily as stay neutral or join hands with Russia, or with England. The government might well overturn the adjudication if it becomes diplomatically awkward.”
“As owner, that would be to declare me a pirate, would it not? Do they still hang pirates at Execution Dock at Wapping?”
“To the best of my knowledge, yes, Mr Jackson. If politically convenient, you could easily end up with a stretched neck.”
That was a distressing piece of information. My life was in effect in the hands of politicians, and a fate worse than that was hardly possible. I am not, perhaps, the most morally upright of men, but there are some things I will not do. Politicians on the other hand know no bounds – there is nothing they will not do, repeatedly and with the greatest of perverse pleasure generally. To be at risk of their evanescent convenience was to be in daily peril of my life.
The trouble was, there was no place to run. I could hardly return to India and must not go to Canton. America had little to offer me, except as a vagabond on the frontier, farming and fighting Indians and each other as seemed to be the local habit. If I was to remain prosperous, I must stay in England and visible as a trader and gentleman. Easy to disappear in the faceless ruck of the common people and dwell in poverty – who wanted that sort of existence?
“Well, sir, let us hope that I can remain unknown to the politicos.”
“You should so, Mr Jackson, provided only that Pearl River remains in the Sugar Islands and initiates no contact with you. If your Captain Eccles keeps hold of all the cash, you will be safe.”
It was an entertaining paradox – provided Eccles played me false, he could do me no harm.
I thought there was little chance that he would be honest and turned my mind to consideration of making money in England while retaining a veneer of respectability.
That was easy enough it transpired.
The bubble burst within the month, greatly to my delight and even more to Ainslie’s. We had cash in hand, he and I, literally. Ainslie had turned our all into gold coin, often having to pay a premium to obtain the precious metal and apparently throwing money away. The bulk of those who had offered gold at a premium had been delighted to take bank’s paper, knowing that they were in a boom and prices must rise unbroken and could never fall. Gold was quite exploded, they said; one day it will be, of course, but not in my time.
I had some thirty-five thousand in golden guineas and Ainslie far and away more in the specie of England and every other European country that issued reliable coin. He had tucked every last gold piece away in safes in his house at Micheldever – tons of bullion.
I was told years later by a historian that one third of the banks in England shut their doors in the few weeks of crisis. It seems likely. Following from that, savers and commercial depositors who had money in those banks lost their all and were forced to sell anything and everything they had to meet their obligations. Businesses that had been worth ten thousands now sold, with all their assets, for a few hundreds in gold coin.
The debtors’ prisons and spunging-houses were full of the unfortunate who had no choice other than to take any offer for their goods that would free them from their internment.
Needless to say, we bought gleefully. We travelled the length and breadth of England in those two months, our lawyers in their chaise behind us, for we would not have them sat next to us – we did have some standards. We bought coal mines and iron founders and cotton spinners mostly, though not afraid to diversify into possession of a tobacco importer in Bristol and a glass maker in East London, all of them with their warehouses crammed full and no buyers for them. We bought as well the whole cargoes of merchant ships, imported for buyers who no longer had cash. By the end of the great killing we had thousands of tons of brimstone and saltpetre and copper and tin and cotton tucked away in warehouses, also owned by us, in London and, distastefully, in Liverpool. Reluctantly, we had also purchased land, estates owned by nouveau riche manufacturers and sold as a package with their foundries and mills and mines.
Funny thing was, we made as much from the land, eventually, as from the more obvious purchases. When the good times came again, as they always do, the price of estates rose through the roof as the vulgar attempted to turn their blood blue by becoming landed gentry. We sold almost all of those acres we had come unwillingly to possess; the sole exception was of the better part of a thousand acres, one and a half square miles, of valley land contiguous to the estate at Shawford. A few thousands spent on drainage and that became rich fields to add to mine; Sunny’s, I should say. The present estate dates from that purchase; no doubt young Fred will claim it as ours since time immemorial.
Six months saw prices rising, not yet back to the levels of the bubble but sufficient to doubl
e our money in most cases, triple in some as we emptied the warehouses of the goods that were now in demand again. We kept back the best of the coal pits and iron foundries, setting managers into them; they still provide us with a good income. Ainslie dribbled the tin and copper onto the market, letting the shortage of the metals force their price up. The cotton went to auction at an early date as the jennies began to turn again.
That left us with the makings of gunpowder - saltpetre and brimstone to dispose of. Here we proceeded with delicate care. The sole legitimate purchasers for such quantities must be the Ordnance, which supplied the needs of both Army and Navy. We could have gouged them, for they were compelled to purchase the makings of the powder they needed. We discussed the possibility and recoiled from it.
“Long memories the functionaries of the Board possess, Mr Jackson.”
“Vindictive as well, so I am told, Sir Alexander. Those are toes that are not to be stepped on.”
“So say I, Mr Jackson.”
“How do we establish our bona fides, sir?”
“Not through McKay – they will know of him and not love him as sharp businessman. Being a Jew will not help him with these particular people – they are not liberal-minded. Best we speak to the Member for Winchester and one of the County Members as well.”
I was aware of the distinction between town and county Members of Parliament, knew it to be of some importance. Most towns had tiny electorates, typically consisting of the burghers who sat on the town council, while the counties could have as many as five thousands qualified to vote. The County Members actually had to win an election while the gentlemen from the boroughs bought or were given their seats. The town seats were ancient, centuries old, and a few of the boroughs no longer had a population at all while still returning their representatives to Westminster; their people were often the idiot boys of the aristocracy, the tomnoddies of the family made respectable.
Courtesy demanded we addressed the local Member. Practicality said we should use the services of a County gentleman, so we had to speak to both and drop favours to each.
Mr Middleton, of the County, was of value to us, being a Tory but unwilling to take a part in the Ministry, valuing his freedom. He was an able man and knew several members of the Ordnance. We were contacted with offers for our minerals within the week, moved all on inside another sennight. The man himself took no more than our promise to be good supporters of the Party when the next election came.
Lord Wolvey, son of the Duke of Basing and Member for Winchester, sat to dinner with us and drank a deal of Ainslie’s port and did nothing else at all. He was not quite an idiot and expected to be made a junior minister in the immediate future; no doubt he would be brighter than some of the luminaries who graced government. He left the house in possession of a ruby cravat pin, ‘just a trinket from Indian days’. He was grateful for a little while, until he forgot who it was had made the gift.
It was a busy time and left me worth a hundred thousand in my own right. How much Ainslie possessed by then, I did not know. He was able to tuck half a million into Sunny’s reticule on his death – our current fortune, of course. For the rest, and there was a substantial remainder, he indulged in charitable foundations, mostly at Oxford University, being a great one for education. A number of poor youths from minor families – not the scaff and raff, of course - have been enabled to read there as a result; I have not seen any great gain to the nation therein, but I doubt it has done actual harm.
The end of that year saw me finally able to sit back and relax in my manor at Shawford. I grew bored inside the first week.
Tedium ceased to prevail quite quickly when I was visited by a gentleman who informed me that he came from Downing Street.
The man himself was quietly spoken and most discreet – even the servants saw nothing amiss in him. He was a grey sort of fellow, one who managed to be unnoticed in any company at all. His name was Smith, or so he claimed.
“Mr Giles Jackson, sir? Late of Bombay and Canton?”
“I am he.”
I left him standing in my hallway for the while, regretting that I did not habitually carry a pocket pistol in my own house. He was professionally unmenacing and actively scared me.
“I am sent from Mr Dundas’ office to discuss a matter of some significance, sir.”
The name rang no bells – I was not a political person and knew few of the names.
“Mr Dundas is a close confidant of Mr Pitt, sir.”
Unsurprisingly, I did know of Billy Pitt.
“You had better come into my working room, Mr Smith.”
I nodded to the senior downstairs maid to provide a tray of refreshments. I did not keep a footman or butler, intentionally – expensive symbols of pretence to gentility. I was surprised when Valet brought the tea and coffee in, less so when he managed to place one of my pocket pistols in my lap, all unseen.
Very handy chap to keep about the place, that gentleman. He is still in my service, albeit somewhat creakily these days.
I felt a lot better for having that piece of persuasion to hand.
“Now, Mr Smith, tell me your all, sir. Why am I honoured by your company today?”
The little man raised an eyebrow, not entirely used to being greeted with complacence.
“Downing Street, Mr Jackson, has information that you are the sole owner of the private man of war, Pearl River. That ship is currently to be found in the waters of the Sugar Islands, having arrived there from Bombay by way of the Plate River and the Slave Coast. Whilst pursuing that long voyage, Pearl River took a Spanish slaving ship carrying great guns as cargo and sold her at Cape Coast Castle, her cargo ending in the possession of the so-called King of Bonny.”
“Quite correct, Mr Smith. Pearl River possesses letters of marque, issued by the Governor in Bombay, and Spain is at war with His Britannic Majesty. The authorities at Cape Coast Castle authorised the condemnation of the prize and the sale by public auction was attended only by British firms active in that deplorable harbour. I remained aboard ship for the whole period, in successful hope of avoiding the fevers. My captain, Mr Eccles, assured me all was well.”
Mr Smith nodded that my information was correct to the best of his knowledge.
“The Prize Court as constituted was unusual but not irregular. The condemnation must stand. You cannot be held responsible in law for permitting a train of siege artillery to fall into the hands of a native chieftain.”
I agreed, offering as well the probability that the King of Bonny would be short of trained gunners to keep the pieces in good condition in the heat and tropical damps.
“They will rust and corrode away, Mr Smith, may well be unsafe to fire already.”
“Possibly so, Mr Jackson. However, that brings us to the Danish ship taken by you some few days after you sailed from Cape Coast Castle.”
I knew damned well that it would and took a sip from my teacup while settling myself to quick thinking and delicate misstatement.
“A Dane indeed, sir, and carrying a cargo from the Baltic. Naval stores to some significant value and all, it would seem, consigned to French government interests. She was therefore legitimate prize and was condemned as such at the Antigua Admiralty Court, a longstanding and reputable jurisdiction. She had a broadside of six pounders and she fired them when we hailed her, displaying no ensign the while.”
Mr Smith was surprised by that last statement.
“She fired first and before identifying herself, Mr Jackson?”
“The Dane responded to the cry of ‘What ship?’ with her broadside, sir. No more than four guns and fortunately ill-served. We took only two shot aboard and both in the rigging, neither killing nor wounding any of my people.”
“You returned her broadside, I presume.”
“No, sir. We closed and boarded. We found her to have a heavily armed and belligerent crew who came at my men with cutlasses and pistols. My boarding party, all of them men of China, returned the compliment, taking the prize i
n quick order. They fought to the last man, displaying guilty purpose in their refusal to be taken.”
“And were you aware that she was a Dane?”
“Not until we examined the papers in the master’s cabin, Mr Smith.” At this point it became necessary to add just a little to the truth. “When we entered the cabin we found a deal of smoke and discovered papers smouldering to ashes in a chinaware basin on the deck. We extinguished the fire as we could – one of the more quick-witted of the Chinamen pissing on them – and retrieved a few scraps of malodorous documents, one of which appeared to be a bill of lading addressed to the naval officer in command at the Mauritius. That satisfied us of the nature of the prize.”
Smith was taken aback – that was a statement he could not afford to have offered in any court of law. He visibly changed his attitude to me, becoming less of the hostile inquisitor.
“That was unknown to my informants, Mr Jackson. It does tend to suggest malfeasance on the part of the Danes. There is, however, still some disquiet in Downing Street at the failure of any of the Danes to survive the encounter.”
“I was distressed myself, sir. It is the case though that the wise man does not fire great guns at any ship of war, most particularly one crewed with Cantonese men, all of them devotedly loyal to their master and counting their own lives, and those of any other, at naught.”
Mr Smith knew nothing of China; he had heard all of the nonsense prevalent in England and could easily conceive of John Chinaman as a rabid, bloodthirsty, unthinking maniac.
“I see. One must admit that the Dane unwisely offered provocation, Mr Jackson. I had come with the expectation of taking you in charge, sir, to stand trial as a pirate… That now seems a course of less wisdom… I must seek advice, sir. I am inclined to doubt that a prosecution could hold water. Until my judgement is confirmed, may I enquire whether you intend to leave England again? You do seem to be a much-travelled man, sir.”
I smiled and bowed and assured him that I should not leave the country. At most I might travel to London on business. In all likelihood, I should remain at Shawford or in company of Sir Alexander at Micheldever.
Foreign Mud Page 22
