The Blighted Cliffs (52 page)

'You
mean, you do not know who they might be.'

I
marvelled that Sir Lawrence had the gall to make this gibe, for all
that the coroner had blamed Mazard's death on a falling-out among the
smugglers. In that moment I was almost tempted to raise the truth of
the matter, but wisely I forbore. I had crossed swords with
Cunningham often enough.

'There
is also the stock issue,' added Nevell. 'Part of Mazard's plan, we
suspect, was that the seizure of the castle would prompt an invasion
scare to sweep the stock exchange. He had sold off vast holdings in
London with a view to buying them back when their prizes had
collapsed, then realizing huge gains when it emerged that there was
no invasion after all. If we can find others who liquidated their
stock in the past week, we may have some names to start with.'

'Hence
the flying balloon,' I thought aloud. 'How much stronger the rumours
if shells from an invisible army were falling on inland towns.'

Copthorne
fixed me with a wholly incredulous stare. 'Flying balloons,
Lieutenant?' he asked severely. I remembered on what tenuous threads
my credibility still hung. 'Perhaps we should unravel this scheme
from its beginnings.'

The
conversation lasted many hours, until my back ached from sitting in
the chair and my stomach demanded sustenance. Often I found myself
talking, filling in details or explaining certain points, but even
then I had more than half my mind distracted by a desire to get back
to the inn. Most of it I knew, or had guessed, or did not care about,
though I was amused to hear how Crawley, in his enthusiasm, had
capsized the jollyboat coming ashore at Saint Margaret's. Otherwise
it was all overwhelmingly tedious. Only at long last did Copthorne
dismiss us. God knew how his report would read.

But
there was one thing that did still intrigue me, though it had no
place in the dispatches, and my patience had been so sapped by the
meeting that I had little appetite for tact. The story of the
jollyboat had prompted the memory of Davenant's gibe at the ball, and
I was curious. With my reputation, temporarily in the ascendant, I
felt I could risk a direct approach.

'Tell
me, sir,' I asked Crawley as we descended the steps, 'did you really
sink the
Glorious
?'

He
scowled viciously. 'I was the officer of the watch on deck,' he said.
'It was therefore my responsibility.'

'Unless,
of course, a senior officer had come on deck,' I mused. 'A captain,
or first lieutenant.'

'It
was a confused night. It would be hard to recollect who precisely was
on deck. That is why they have enquiries and courts martial to
establish such things.'

'The
conclusions of courts-martial cannot always be relied upon.' If they
could, I'd have been staring at the point of my sword long ago.

'The
justice of the Lord is infinite,' said Crawley inscrutably. 'A man
who one day suffers for his superior's error may on another day find
his fortunes reversed, his reputation restored by the gallantry of
his subordinates. Especially,' he added, 'if that gallantry brings a
haul of fifty thousand contraband guineas.'

And
that, it seemed, was all the answer I would get from Crawley - though
if I ever sailed with him again, I thought, I would feel a good deal
safer in shallow waters.

We
reached the corner of the square.

'Well,
Jerrold,' said Crawley awkwardly. 'I hardly needed a surplus
lieutenant for my crew when the coast was crawling with smugglers.
Now that our enemies are fallen away, it seems callous to keep you in
Dover. Unless you care to stay.'

'I
can think of few places, sir, where I would rather not be,' I said
honestly. 'And I would not feel entirely safe here.' I did not
believe that we had accounted for all Drake's associates, or his
relatives. 'So, if you have no more use for me...'

Alarmingly,
Crawley laughed. 'I suppose I could always have a use for someone of
your peculiar abilities, Lieutenant, but it is my prerogative to give
you leave, and I suspect a week or two away would do you far more
good than shipping barrels of biscuit about until the Admiralty
decides what to do with us. Go home and recover yourself. Doubtless
you will need your strength for another ship soon enough.'

'Actually,
sir, I have a mind to quit the navy.' So fat it had only been a
half-formed thought, but the prospect of home and rest made it
suddenly enormously tempting. I do not know that I am suited to it.
Too many low ceilings.'

Crawley
looked keenly into my eyes, and touched my shoulder.
'Think on it, Jerrold, think on it,' he said. '"The wisdom of
the prudent is to understand his way, but the folly of fools is
deceit."'

We
parted with a handshake and I returned to the inn. A mail coach was
in the courtyard, its driver swearing at the ostlers that one of his
wheels had come loose, and he would not suffer the awful consequences
if they could not mend it swiftly.

I
interrupted the flow of his invective. 'Excuse me,' I asked, 'but
when do you depart?'

Amid
a continuing torrent of abuse for the stable hands, I gathered that
it would be in about half an hour, if those miserable sons of whores,
et cetera, could fasten his wheel on straight.

Was
he bound for London?

He
would be lucky to get anywhere, he explained, on account that what
the grooms had done to his wheel was so abominable that he did not
doubt the Almighty would take offence and destroy the coach with a
well-aimed shaft of His lightning.

But
if the good Lord took mercy, would he have space for a passenger?

He
could not imagine that any gentleman would want to endure ten hours'
riding over that wheel, but if the gentleman was possessed of a
criminal disregard for his comfort and safety, he did have the seats.

'Excellent.
I shall have my trunk with you directly.'

I
went to my room. Isobel was still there.

'I
have been released,' I told her quickly. 'And there is a coach in the
yard. I am going home.'

Her
dark eyes moistened. 'Of course you are,' she said softly. 'You were
only here for your job.'

'I
would very much enjoy the presence of your company.'

At
that, she stopped short. A tear trickled down her nose, and she had
to wipe it on her sleeve.

'What
about the magistrate?' she asked. 'You spent the morning with him.
Doesn't he want to speak to me?'

I
paused.
'I fear, Isobel, that in the telling of my adventure to him, I may
inadvertently have misrepresented your part, implied that you were an
innocent captive with me and that I rescued us both before sending
you for help.' I smiled. 'We will need similar feats of invention if
we are to concoct a story to explain you to my mother. You may have
to be my long-lost cousin.'

She
flung herself about me and squeezed me so hard my back cracked. It
took some moments to peel her off, to remind her that she had little
enough time to fetch her possessions from the laundry, and that there
would be many hours of intimacy to come.

'I'll
go to the parson, and Miss Hoare, and be back before you can say
"Uncle Jack",' she promised.

'I'll
see you in the courtyard,' I said, kissing her goodbye.

I
was not entirely sure that what I was doing was wise, but it felt
satisfying, and for now, that would do. It needed less than two
minutes to pack my diminished stock of respectable shirts into my
trunk. With time to dispose of, I went downstairs.

'A
glass of brandy,' I told Isaac.

'That's
a shillin',' he replied, holding the drink hostage.

'A
shilling?' I exclaimed. 'It was sixpence last week, you usurer!'

'Problem
with the supply,' said Isaac blithely. 'Prices goes up. Not to worry
though,' he added consolingly. 'It'll be sorted in a week or two, go
back down. Always does.'

Doubtless
it would, though that would be of little use to me. For the moment I
suffered the cost of my own success. I supposed I could pay an extra
sixpence for that.

There
was a commotion in the yard outside and I went to the door. It was
the coachman, again: his wheel seemed mended, but now there was a new
carriage in the archway blocking his path. He spat and swore and
waved his arms at the driver, a sturdy man in blue trousers and a red
checked shirt who ignored him completely as he leaped down to open
the carriage door. As it swung open, I saw it was painted with the
design of a bright gold anchor wound with rope.

A
gilded shoe stepped delicately to the ground. Its wearer sniffed the
air disapprovingly, then turned. He stiffened as he caught sight of
me in the doorway.

'Jerrold!'
he roared, in a voice that silenced the blaspheming coachman
instantly. 'You despicable cur! Unblushed by your past notoriety, I
am now brought tales of the utmost villainy, of misdeeds so vile I
can disbelieve them only a fraction less than I must believe them. So
repellent, indeed, that I have been compelled to come all the way
from London to pass judgement on your execrable little life. Do not
think you will survive the ordeal. Well? Do you dare defend
yourself?'

I
laughed. 'Hallo, Uncle,' I said.

Author's
Note

MY
OWN HABIT WHEN READING NOVELS WITH AN HISTORICAL NOTE IS to flip to
it well before I finish the book. If any readers share this tendency,
they should know that this one covers several matters central to the
resolution of the story. You have been warned.

The
idea of English bankers funding Napoleon's conquests, or of French
soldiers making commando raids on the British coast, may seem
fantastical, but both are based firmly in fact. A golden guinea worth
twenty-one shillings in England could fetch thirty shillings in
Paris, and in those days, as now, not all financial institutions and
speculators were so squeamish that they would pass up such rates of
return, even if it meant supporting Britain's ancient enemy. The
trade was enormous: it is estimated that at its height some ten
thousand guineas a week were being ferried across the Channel, and a
whole new class of vessel, known as 'guinea boats', was purpose built
for the task. After his capture and imprisonment, Napoleon
acknowledged that there were times when this cash-flow was vital in
keeping his army paid and his power secure.

French
soldiers actually landing on British soil during this period is also
fact. In 1798, several hundred soldiers landed on the Pembrokeshire
coast as a diversion, hoping to draw away attention from another,
larger force sailing for rebellious Ireland. In the event, both
expeditions failed, but the last French musket-balls fired in Britain
can still be seen in Fishguard. Seven years later, Napoleon's desire
to conquer Britain was undimmed: throughout the summer of 1805 he
kept an army of some hundred thousand men stationed around Boulogne.
Known as the Army of England, Napoleon felt he needed only a few
hours' naval supremacy in the Channel to make its crossing. A
commemorative obelisk was begun and a campaign medal struck in
anticipation of the expected triumph, but French naval weakness, even
before the battle of Trafalgar that October, forced Napoleon to
abandon his plans, redesignate his forces 'la Grande Armée'
and, like another despot after him, turn his attentions east. But
although we know now that this was to prove the end of the matter,
that Trafalgar would secure British naval supremacy for over a
century, this was by no means obvious at the time.