Quarterdeck Page 2

  Martin made up his mind. He picked up his glass. “Your health, gentlemen. I will be in touch.” He drank the brandy, and placed the glass on the table and left.

  Chapter 2

  The Recruit

  Peter Vardy, seated in his cell in Portsmouth prison, contemplated his future. It extended to four days. In his present location it was not an inviting prospect. He thought it was not an inviting prospect in any location. He had begun to despair and considered ending it all. A rueful smile crossed his face. Not really much point when someone was going to do it for him, in four days. He sighed. He would miss Fay Moore. The thought of Major Michael Moore forcing himself upon his recently found love, made him angry and merely stressed the helplessness of his current situation.

  The rattle of the key in the lock diverted his gloomy thoughts. Unusual at this time of day. Normally they only unlocked to allow the chaplain in, and he was not due for some hours yet.

  The door opened and the chaplain entered, accompanied by Mrs. Fay Moore.

  The chaplain spoke hurriedly. “Peter, Mrs. Moore has news for you that she insisted on bringing herself. I am very happy to…”

  Mrs. Moore interrupted the Reverend in full flow. “Peter, you have been pardoned and will be released today.”

  Peter Vardy sat down, having risen at their entry. His legs felt a little shaky. He was processing what he had heard. “Pardoned?”

  The chaplain went to speak again, but Fay Moore interrupted him once more. “It is true, Peter. And also Michael has been ordered to Gibraltar to join General Moore.”

  The murmur of voices as others approached broke the immediate impasse. The Governor of the prison appeared and a Naval Captain in full uniform followed. The small cell was becoming rather full.

  The Governor ordered a warder to remove the shackles binding the arms and legs of the prisoner. Then he produced a document, and read the brief message out to the bemused Peter.

  “In view of the fresh evidence which has come to my notice, I have set aside the sentence imposed by the court on Peter James Vardy. He is hereby released from custody and set free without stain on his character. It is signed, Spencer,” The signature was of Earl Spencer, the current Home Secretary.

  He rolled up the page and shook the hand of the still unsure man before him.

  The Captain spoke for the first time. “Peter Vardy, I would like you and Mrs. Moore to accompany me from here now, please. The sooner this business is completed with the minimum of fuss, the better.” He turned and the small party left the scruffy cell. Peter decided that he would not miss the place, though he would never forget it.

  They followed the Captain without question to the prison yard, where a coach awaited.

  ***

  At the ‘Crown’ in Emsworth, they stopped. Their escort, who had already introduced himself as Martin Forest-Bowers, took them into a pre-booked room where there were clothes and a bath for Peter to use. Martin escorted Mrs. Moore to the lounge, to await while her friend shed the stink and the filth of the prison.

  While they waited Fay Moore told Martin of the events from her point of view. “I realised that it is normal for marriages to be arranged, and I accepted the situation as one must. Michael was not a troublesome husband, nor was he attentive. I seriously felt that my presence was for show, as his interests were elsewhere. When I met Peter it was a shock. I did not anticipate my reaction, for I had never met someone I was really attracted to.”

  Martin interrupted the flow. “Madam, please, there is no need for you to disclose this to me. I will not judge you. From what I already know I congratulate you for escaping what must have been an empty existence.”

  “Captain, please indulge me. I have been forced to keep my own counsel thus far. It is such a relief to unburden myself. My husband had no idea, and there was in fact no reason for him to react, as we never really got together, if you take my meaning.” The blush that accompanied this comment made Martin accept her statement without question.

  She continued, “I have to tell someone about this. I am not sure if Peter feels that same as I do. We had no chance to speak of the matter. I did know that the Adjutant of the Dragoons commanded by my husband was a local man who, it seems, was an old enemy of Peter. He was responsible for faking the evidence against him. He had him arrested and charged. Three of the troopers from my father’s former employ, swore to him That the man had been falsely accused and the evidence fabricated. Captain Charles Hanson had arranged the whole business. It is he will assume command of the dragoons when my husband actually travels.”

  Martin listened and took note. In his pocket was what Sir Anthony Watts called insurance. It was an open warrant charging the recipient to give full cooperation and assistance to the bearer in the name of the King. It carried the Royal Seal. It meant in short that, on production, any British person was required to do whatever Martin asked. Unsure how this might help at the moment, he was sure his would think of something. The Captain would have to be neutralised in some way. It was merely a case of how?”

  ***

  Peter Vardy appeared resplendent in clean clothing of quality, and smelling, as Martin indelicately put it, a little sweeter.

  The two people were both unsure and awkward in meeting on the same level for the first time. Martin did not doubt the link between them. He swiftly had them seated to dine as his guests, and was pleased to see Harold, also looking well dressed for the occasion, stumping across to join them as arranged.

  “Why, it’s you, Sir Martin! What a pleasure to see you here. Peter?” He stopped and clapped Peter on his shoulder. “I just heard that Mrs. Moore had been successful.” He swung to Fay who was seated beside the table. “I am so happy to see you here, madam. Your efforts to help my cousin were appreciated by the family. It’s sad news to hear that the Major is leaving tonight for Gibraltar. All is confusion at the barracks I’m afraid. Young Lieutenant Marchmont is in a terrible tizzy re-organising things. Everything happening at once it seems.”

  “Please be seated and join us, Harold,” Martin said, “But what is the reason for the tizzy, as you so aptly put it? I understood Captain Hanson would be putting things in order now the Major has left?”

  “Of course, you would not be aware, sir. Captain Hanson’s horse reared and bolted at the noise of a blunderbuss. The stupid guard on the Mail had an accident and dropped his weapon. It went off right behind the Captain’s charger. It bucked him off and deposited the Captain on his head, in the yard of this very Inn at lunchtime today.

  “The Major ordered the Lieutenant to assume command, and departed for Portsmouth to board his ship. He was unaware that the Captain was actually dead. The coach had departed before the condition of the Captain had been properly diagnosed.”

  Martin looked intently at Harold. The smooth untroubled face gave nothing away.

  The news did not cast a pall over the party, rather the contrary. As the evening progressed the relations between Peter and Fay relaxed, until it was plain to Martin that both were now aware of the path their immediate future would follow. He suspected that the innocence of their relationship so far would not exist for much longer.

  ***

  With the celebrations of the evening past, Peter Vardy, Harold and Martin departed for London. It had been established that the men would be delayed in London for several days, and it was no surprise to hear that Mrs. Moore would be staying at her London residence from the next day.

  The three gentlemen were all invited to call upon her at the Chelsea residence.

  ***

  Plain Mr. Smith was introduced to Peter Vardy simply because he was Harold’s cousin. Martin, who had been given space in the headquarters house, sat and interviewed Peter Vardy.

  It seemed that Harold had made a sensible choice in his man. Martin quickly established that Vardy was a loyal king’s man. His arrest and conviction had clearly been contrived by his enemy. Blame was not therefore cast upon the magistrates.

  It seemed that Peter
Vardy had, like Martin, been educated to an advanced level for the day. He spoke French because he had crewed for smugglers from a young age, as did most of the young boys at the time and of the area. He had, until recently, been running his father’s estate. The charge and conviction had created a scandal robbing him of the position which had gone to his younger brother. When the post of organiser and manager of Martin’s cross-channel delivery service was offered, he considered carefully, and asked several questions before finally accepting it.

  Martin, with the help of Harold, worked with Peter, and produced a list of people he would want to run the service. He also desired, and received, a new boat for his own use, pointing out that, to use the people he had selected, he would need to be present on a regular basis. ‘Sharing the risks’, was the way he put it.

  It came as no surprise that Mrs. Moore was willing to participate in the operation. The boats would not always be required for the service. To establish the necessary cover they would be required to do moonlight runs, to keep the secret of the delivery operations. The French end was particularly difficult, since the coordination of the project was vital. Not all the loyalists on the French side were smugglers. Those who were kept things simple. The real dangers occurred when those who were not became involved. Empty boats were highly suspect on both sides of the channel.

  Since there was little to be done about it, they just needed extra care when using the non-commercial rendezvous.

  The grounds of Marsden Hall included a useful cove, which became the mooring place of the boat operated by Peter himself. A small cottage above the shore line was rented to him and he moved in, making a living from fishing and writing, copying documents for local businesses.

  The smugglers, selected by Peter, lived a protected life. Whoever else along the coast encountered preventative men, this small part of Hampshire seldom suffered as badly as the coastlines both east and west.

  The carefully arranged raids and captures were, as Harold observed, better rehearsed than the plays at Drury Lane.

  ***

  Jennifer’s health continued to improve and it became possible to bring her forth once more into the social scene.

  She insisted on visiting Eynsham, where she managed to spend several days just relaxing in the house she had restored and extended. Coddled by Dorothea Applegate, the housekeeper at Walton Manor, her recovery was helped by the peace and quiet of the Oxfordshire countryside.

  While Jennifer was at Walton Manor, Martin spent time with Harold and Peter at Mudeford. There were two trips to be made, and both passed off without a hitch. Alouette was delivered by Martin to the small village of Etretat, between Fecamp and Le Havre. The other delivery was to the east of St. Malo, an area Peter was well acquainted with. The re-established contact in the area, Etienne Labatt, was pleased to see him once more. They had not really met since 1802 during the temporary truce used by Napoleon to rebuild his fleet and construct the invasion barges he would never use.

  The restored Jennifer joined Martin at Eastney, Lady Jane’s home, where their daughter Jane had been staying during her mother’s absence.

  For the first time since her illness, Jennifer was able to enjoy the pleasure of lovemaking with her husband once more. The comfort of the house and the shared joy between them, the delight of having their daughter with them, and the avowed happiness of their hostess, Lady Jane, created an episode that they would long remember.

  ***

  Back in London once more, Martin was aware of his restlessness. He missed the lift of a deck beneath his feet. His call at the ‘House’, as he now thought of it, was not productive as both Sir Anthony and Alouette were away, and he had kept himself apart from the other employees in the building. This he did for his own reasons, and oddly, at the suggestion of Alouette.

  On a past occasion while in Ireland, Martin had encountered two men, escaped prisoners from a ship transporting them to Australia. Both were killers. Martin had delivered them to England at Sir Anthony’s request. Now the two men, Carter and Allan, were waiting for him at the corner as he left the house.

  Both properly attired in respectable clothes and neat and tidy in appearance, Martin hardly recognised them. They signalled that they wished to talk and crossed the street and entered the small park, on the other side.

  Martin, ever wary of ambush, checked his pocket pistol and followed. Both men seated themselves at two of the benches there for the convenience of strollers. Martin took a seat near enough to converse but far enough to defend himself if needed.

  Allan spoke for them both. “Captain, Sir. You may recall us from Ireland. I am Allan, and my friend is Carter. We reckon you did us a favour and saved us from transportation. We are both better fed and more comfortable than we’ve ever been. Working for his honour has been the making of us, but we are sometimes asked to work with some odd coves.”

  “Good, I am pleased that things are going well for you both. But what is this about?”

  Carter took up the tale. “There are three people working in the house who are not what they seem. They all have a story to tell but they are all telling lies. I know we are not the ones to talk, but Allan here heard two of them at it in French. Not knowing too much of the lingo, he listened but only understood the odd word. He heard your name and the lady’s, Alouette.

  “He told me, and I have a fair bit of French. I er.. Have some small experience of the moonlight trade, if you knows what I mean?”

  “Well, man. Speak on. Tell me what is it you are saying to me?”

  “I started listening out, as it were, and I heard them say that, with Alouette in the bag, the next thing was to get you out of the way. I have the impression that they was something to do with the attempt on the Admiral by those two posh bastards we had a run in with in Ireland. One said that you were supposed to be croaked in a duel. But it all went wrong.”

  “What about Alouette? You know she has just gone to France. Is it a trap?”

  “They are going to take her and her boat when they do the pick-up.”

  “Point these people out to me. We will arrange things here, then go to France to arrange things there. Are you ready to do that?”

  The two men looked at each other. Allan grinned. “Fancy a bit of a holiday? How about it, Horace?”

  Carter grinned back. “Too bloody right. There’s a little maid in Boulogne who will remember me.”

  Martin stood up. “This will be strictly business. If you point out the people, I’ll get things organised.”

  Carter stood. “The little French bit with the gap between her front teeth. The ugly, big bloke who said he came from La Rochelle but talks like a Marseillaise. The other one is the little Dutchman van Eyck.

  The French woman he had noticed. The gap in her teeth and the shapely figure made her stand out in the offices, though she was always very shy. Of the others he was unsure, but he was certain of the girl.

  In the absence of both Mr. Smith and Alouette he decided that the best way to act was to make his way to the French coast and prevent the capture of Alouette if he could. Certainly, stop the capture of the boat Peter Vardy was using for the pick-up. In the house Martin called the French girl into his room.

  “You are Colette Blanch, French?”

  “Oui, M’sieu.”

  “I understand you have been speaking with the man, Corot. Who is he? your lover?”

  “Oh no, sir. He has had my parents arrested and imprisoned in Le Havre. He says he will have them killed if I do not do what he tells me.

  “What of the Dutchman?” Martin asked.

  “Van Eyck is an evil man. I will not talk with him. I see he wants my body. I am able to keep him away because of Corot.

  “Corot thinks he will have me to himself eventually. So far I hold him off.” She shrugged. “I may have to allow him for my parent’s sake.”

  “Invite him round to meet you in the small park. Tell him you have some news after speaking with me.”

  She looked at Martin anxio
usly. “Do not worry. Friends will be there.”

  “Has he said anything about Madam Alouette?” Martin wondered.

  “He had said that she will be captured before she sails from near Fecamp, the boat also.”

  Martin thought about that. “I will see that does not happen.”

  Colette asked, “What shall I say to Corot when we meet?”

  “Tell him I am going to France tomorrow. Meet him tonight at perhaps seven o’clock, in the small park. If you can arrange it, sing a little song as I pass your desk when I walk through.”

  Chapter 3

  Over the sea..

  To Carter and Allen, he said, “Be in the park to rescue the little French girl. Do not molest her. But I want Corot, the big ugly man captured. She should be there at seven.”

  Carter smiled. “Good.”

  “Bring him to the basement room. We will need to find out just what they plan for Alouette and Peter Vardy.” Martin’s voice was grim.

  ***

  They brought Corot in at ten past seven. Martin waited for the men to appear. When he was brought struggling through the door and dumped into the chair, he was looking worried.

  Corot was bound to the legs and arms of the chair. “You cannot do this to me. I am an agent like you. Why am I tied up like this?”

  Martin said nothing. He sat and looked at the man seriously, unblinking. The longer he waited the more agitated the man became.

  Eventually, Martin said, “Why were you in the park tonight?”

  Without hesitation, Corot said, “I was invited by Colette, the girl in the office who works with us.”

  “Why?”

  Corot shrugged. “You know how it is, a man and a pretty girl.” His grin was sickly.

  “And her parents? When were you going to tell her that they had been executed?”