Devil to Pay (19 page)

Emerging from the stationers with his latest purchase—a copy of the
Naval Atalantis
by “Nauticus Junior” published in 1788—Delancey almost collided with Mr Withers.

“Ah, glad to see you, Captain! You must realize, I suppose, that everyone here is talking about you and that every gossip is eager for information.”

“I suspect, sir, that they chiefly want to know when I am going.”

“Some folk are a little apprehensive. . . . But here is a young lady who wishes to attract your attention. Heaven forbid that I should stand in her way! Good morning, Miss Hill! May I ask what has brought you to Poole?”

It was Louisa, as pretty as ever and as lacking in diffidence. “La, Mr Withers, I came in the hope of seeing you. But I'll confess that the shops of Poole are a minor attraction, amazingly better than ours at Dorchester. Mr Delancey! How pleasant that we should meet like this! The truth is that I hoped to fall in with you, knowing that the
Rose
is in port. I wish you joy of your recent success.” “Your servant, Miss Hill—and thank you.”

“I will leave you two,” said Mr Withers, “but I shall be jealous if you flirt too much.”

“We shall be discretion itself,” replied Louisa, “for all the world knows that Mr Withers is my beau and I dare not risk losing his regard.”

After Mr Withers had gone Louisa produced a letter which came, as she explained, from Mr Early. “Knowing that I was to be in Poole today, he asked me to act as messenger.”

“I am vastly obliged to you, Miss Hill,” said Delancey, pocketing the letter, “and as obliged again to Mr Early for entrusting the missive to so charming a bearer.” Louisa dropped a little curtsey and they walked slowly on together. She looked about her as she chattered, missing nothing and glad to be seen in company with a man so much in the day's news.

“You come from Guernsey, do you not?” said Louisa at the haberdasher's door. “My cousin Harriet is engaged to an officer that was recently there—Mr Nash of the 42nd. It seems, however, that his regiment is to go overseas. Her last letter from him was dated from a transport at anchor in the Downs. He did not say so in so many words but I fancy that the regiment is going to the West Indies. Harriet still hopes that the order will be countermanded but in this she may be disappointed. His serving in the Indies may cause a broken engagement. At four and twenty, and with fifteen thousand in the funds, she can't be expected to wait for ever.”

Delancey agreed in deploring long engagements. Louisa asked him what book he had bought and sniffed a little when she saw the title.

“I had thought it might be a novel. I have just read the
Mysteries of Udolpho
by Mrs Radcliffe and enjoyed it amazingly. Do you ever read novels, Mr Delancey—or only books on voyages and navigation?”

“I have read some novels but none, as yet, by Mrs Radcliffe. On your recommendation I shall hasten to procure the latest.”

“Pray do so, Mr Delancey. Now I must match a ribbon for my aunt. Goodbye and do not fail to call when next you come ashore.”

After parting from Louisa, Delancey opened the letter she had brought him and stood in a doorway to read it.

Dorchester,

March 9th, 1795

Dear Sir,

I write to congratulate you, first of all, on your success in attempting to suppress illicit trade on the Dorset coast. You have shown yourself to be an active officer in this temporary appointment and I am amazed to think that you have been denied the promotion in the navy to which, from your known abilities, you would seem to be entitled. Nor does it seem to me that the customs service has any great future to offer you. Had I any interest at the Admiralty I should not hesitate to exert it on your behalf. While having no such influence it happens to be in my power to serve you perhaps in another direction. I have friends in Guernsey, some of whom are partners in the ownership of a private man-of-war called the
Nemesis
of fourteen guns, built for the purpose, and commanded until recently by Mr Perelle. Having been fortunate on his last cruise, Mr Perelle has yielded to his wife's entreaty and agreed to live ashore, which he can now afford to do. There is thus a captain's vacancy and I have reason to believe that my friends in Guernsey will accept my nomination. Should you consent to serve as master of the
Nemesis
I think you will have a good prospect of success, she being fast, well-armed and well-manned. I have already written to my friends in St Peter Port, being sanguine enough to count on your acceptance. Take passage in the packet from Weymouth and call on Mr Elisha Jeremie (another whist player) at his house in St Martin's. You will be kindly received and I shall look forward to hearing that you think well of the
Nemesis.
I have entrusted this letter to my fair cousin Louisa Hill and you may care to leave your answer at No 30 in the High Street. Trusting to receive a favourable reply,

I have the honour to remain, Sir,

Your most obliged ser't,

John Early.

Having read the letter once, Delancey went back over it, mentally underlining the more significant words: “temporary,” “no great future,” “friends in Guernsey.” The letter really paid him a high compliment. As a threat to the free-traders he had to be removed and the best way to do this was to offer him a better appointment. If he refused there would be some other way of dealing with him, the easier to arrange in that his present command was merely temporary. There would be no profit for him if he remained, the goods being sent to places outside his cruising area. As for the
Nemesis,
she clearly belonged to Early, although managed by his Guernsey agents. She was a regular privateer, with some captures to her credit, and the offer was genuine. Early knew all about him, that much was evident and he appreciated Delancey's skill as a whist player. On only one point was Delancey in doubt. Did Louisa mention Mrs Radcliffe's novel in order to convey some other message or was that a chance reference to Louisa's own tastes in literature? Very much on impulse, Delancey turned back to the stationers and asked for a copy of the
Mysteries of Udolpho.
One was produced at once, the stationer observing that it was much in demand, and Delancey returned to the
Rose
with books to read and a decision to make. Without much hesitation he decided to accept Mr Early's offer.

Three days later the
Rose
sailed for Weymouth. From there she sailed, without Delancey, for Cowes, bearing her acting commander's letter of resignation. Robert Lane, as acting commander, called for three cheers as the cutter left the quayside and Delancey stood for a moment at the salute. He knew that he had been a success and that he had even been popular. He felt a twinge of regret but remembered, as he turned away, that his was now to be a different trade. His career in the revenue service had come to an abrupt end, not through any failure on his part but through his being too competent. Nothing he had done would add to his reputation as a naval officer but the episode had added greatly to his self-confidence. He had seen an opportunity and grasped it. He had proved himself as a secret agent, as a commander, as a tactician. Without being uniformly successful, he had been treated by his opponents with respect. They had thought it worth their while to buy him off. The result was the prospect of a new and attractive command, the privateer
Nemesis.
He lost no time, therefore, in making his way to the packet which would sail for Guernsey that afternoon. As he watched her slip out of the harbour with the old town on one side, the wooded hillside on the other, he had the holiday sensation of leaving the seamanship to those responsible. For once he could admire the sunlight on the sail of a passing lugger without wondering about her possible activities. The sea was pale green in the light but shadowed with cloud and flecked with foam. The old packet was being held close to the southerly wind but was sagging to leeward. If the mainsail could be made to stand flatter . . . but that, for once, was not his business.

Pacing the deck, Delancey tried to remember all he knew about privateering. He recalled vaguely that Letters of Marque were issued to vessels of two distinct species. In one class were ordinary armed merchantmen, shipping a cargo, which could sail without convoy and which might snap up a prize if the opportunity offered. Far fewer in number were the real privateers, sailing without a cargo and being regularly armed and manned for war. Some of these had been designed for commerce, and especially for the slave trade, but others were designed as men-of-war and had never been anything else. Several of these were based on Guernsey and more—he had been told—on Alderney. Privateer owners and officers were often, if not always, highly respectable men. There was nothing illegal about their business, he realized, but it
could
degenerate into piracy. The commander of a private man-of-war might thus be tempted to attack ships not under the enemy flag; neutral ships or (worst of all) ships under the British flag. The fact that the temptation was there was no proof, of course, that many succumbed to it. Most privateer officers kept within the letter of the law and regarded piracy as disgraceful—and, anyway, as highly dangerous.

The passage from Weymouth to Guernsey was prolonged by adverse winds and Delancey was glad to have brought some books with him. What he would have liked was a book on privateering but none, so far as he knew, had ever been published. The works he had available were those he had bought at Poole. The
Naval Atalantis
he found to be a collection of short biographies. The flag officers and captains portrayed were many of them painted in the brightest colours. Other characters were blackened, perhaps without much reason and certainly without any particular knowledge. He had to allow, nevertheless, that some of the sketches were at least amusing. He had to smile at the reference to Admiral Digby who had retired to live in his mansion near Weymouth. “And there let us leave him in his retreat from that honourable profession in which he was never calculated to shine with any great credit to himself or his country.” He was interested to note that a future flag officer had once commanded the
Guernsey
—a warship's name that was new to him. Then he hunted for the names of officers with whom he had served, if only to the point of having seen them. Rear-Admiral the Hon. J. Leveson-Gower had barely more than a page: “The haughty demeanor, ill-judged consequence and illiterate superciliousness of this officer, unhappily for him, obscure some professional virtues. . . .” That, he thought, could be near the truth. What did the author say about Macbride? He was Irish, of course, and had been a member of Parliament for Plymouth. His private hobby was cock-fighting and—what was this?—”Not less a champion in the field of Venus than in that of Mars, the gallant captain was always a welcome guest where beauty held its court, generally carrying his conquests with equal success in either field. . . .” Good heavens! This was no description of the overworked man Delancey had seen at his littered desk. Of the officers mentioned some had enjoyed a belated success, he noted, their abilities having been overlooked for years. There was Vice-Admiral Milbanke, for example, whose career provided a striking instance of “merit, when sacrificed to pique or prejudice, may long lay dormant and disregarded.” That was true enough but, in his own case, did the merit exist? Did he really seek distinction in battle or did he merely want to make his fortune and live ashore? If he were to believe “Nauticus Junior” there were officers who had gained affluence in a day There was Captain Finch of the
Porcupine
(20)—hardly more heavily armed than the
Nemesis
—who captured a homeward-bound French Indiaman “so richly laden that he was ever afterwards distinguished by the appellation of the Goldfinch, his brother Seymour being also a captain in the navy.” As fortunate and more deserving it seemed, was another officer and one whom Delancey had actually met. This was Captain Henry Trollope who had commanded, as lieutenant, a cutter named the
Kite.
When war began with the Netherlands—at the end of 1780—the
Kite
swooped on the Dutch merchantmen, unaware many of them that hostilities had begun—and made a series of valuable captures. The author paid tribute to Trollope's enterprise and added that “His manners in private life are correspondent with the excellence of his public character; and that he diffuses with liberality, in the milder scenes of retirement, the ample fortune which he acquired by his professional labours.”

Putting the book aside, Delancey asked himself what exactly he was trying to do. Until recently he had done no more than make a living, and that with difficulty enough. Now he was to have a command and the chance of making his fortune. If he succeeded, would that be enough? Or would he feel that he had failed in his profession, fallen short of what he should have achieved? At the moment he could picture himself a Guernsey landowner with shipowning interests and some town property, a Jurat of the Royal Court, a man for everyone to greet with respect at Chief Pleas or on market day If that were attainable, was that sufficient? One idea left with him from reading the
Naval Atalantis
was based upon the example of the
Kite.
The origin of Trollope's fortune had been a sudden outbreak of war against a new opponent. French shipping had been adjusted to wartime conditions, having assumed a pattern of convoys, quick passages in bad visibility, warning signals from the shore and every sort of caution. The Dutch had been neutral, much to their own profit, carrying goods that no one would now entrust to ships under the French flag. There was a declaration of war, changing the whole picture. The new situation was known at once in the home ports and was quickly conveyed to the cruisers and privateers. Completely ignorant were the laden merchantmen homeward bound from the Indies, following the usual trade routes and keeping only a casual lookout. Their guns, so far from being loaded, would not even be run out. Their gun-decks would be cluttered with barrels and bales and cabin partitions. Their small arm chests would be buried under crates and boxes. They would need half an hour to clear for action and ten minutes (or less) would be all the time they would actually have.