The Monsoon (7 page)

“We have little choice in the matter,” he said.

“Once Louis invaded the Palatinate, we were forced to act against him in accordance with the terms of the Alliance of Vienna.” He had expressed an opinion with which the others concurred, and he sensed their approval, although Hyde continued to bewail the expense of a Continental war.

“I agree there must be war with France but, in God’s name, we have not yet paid off the costs of the Dutch war and the Fire. The Black Boy and Jamie left us with debts owing to every bank in Europe.” The Black Boy was the nickname of Charles II, the Merry Monarch. Jamie was James II, who had succeeded him and ruled for three scant years before his overt Roman Catholicism forced him to flee to France. William, the Stadholder of the United Provinces of the Netherlands and fourth in line of succession, had been invited, with Mary his wife, to take the throne of England. Mary was the daughter of James, which made their claim to the throne all the more valid, and, of course, they were staunch Protestants.

Once the oysters had been dealt with, Childs called back the footmen to serve the other courses. He fell upon a Dover sole as though it were an enemy, and then they went on to the lamb and the beef, with three different flavours of soup from the silver gilt tureens to wash them down. A good red claret replaced the rather insipid hock.

Hal sipped sparingly at his glass, for the conversation was fascinating and opened insights into the interwoven structure of power and world politics which he was seldom vouchsafed. He would not let even the finest wines cloud his mind. Their talk ranged widely from the coronation of Peter as the Tsar of Russia to the incursions of the French into Canada, from the massacre of their settlers at Lachine by the Iroquois Indians, to the rebellion of the Marathas against the rule of the Mogul Emperor Aurangzeb in India.

This last item of news led the conversation directly to the true reason for this meeting, the affairs and fortunes of the English East India Company. Hal sensed the change that came over his companions in the way that they regarded him. Their eyes upon him became shrewd and appraising.

“I understand that you are a considerable shareholder in the Company?” Lord Hyde asked innocently.

“I was fortunate enough to purchase a little of the Company stock when I returned from the East, in the seventies,” Hal admitted modestly, “and since then, from time to time, when fortune has been kind I have added to my holdings.” Childs waved away his disclaimer.

“All the world is aware of the distinguished exploits of you and your father during the Dutch wars and thereafter, and the very considerable additions that you made to the privy purse from the prizes of war, and the fruits of your trading voyages to the spice islands and the eastern coasts of the African continent.” He turned to the Chancellor.

“Sir Henry controls four and a half per cent of the Company stock, which does not include the dowry of Alice Grenville who so recently married his eldest son,” he concluded drily.

Hyde looked impressed as he mentally calculated the monetary value that that represented.

“A valiant and resourceful sea captain you have proved yourself,” Hyde murmured.

“And a prudent investor. You richly deserved those rewards.” He was watching Hal with a piercing gaze, and Hal knew that they were coming at last to their true purpose.

“Moreover, your personal interests are closely linked to our own,” the Chancellor went on quietly, rubbing his cropped pate so that the short, stiff hairs rasped under his fingers.

“We are all stockholders, the Crown the largest of all. Thus, the recent news from the East Indies affects us all most painfully.” Hal felt the sudden constriction of dread in his chest.

He straightened in his chair and his voice was tight as he murmured, “Forgive me, my lord, but I arrived in London only this morning and I have heard no news.”

“You are fortunate Hyde, for the news is not good,” Childs grunted, and lifted a lump of beef, dripping blood, to his mouth. He chewed and swallowed, then took a gulp of the claret.

“Two weeks ago the Company ship Yeoman of York tied up at the East India docks. She was sixty@ two days out from Bombay with a cargo of cotton and cochineal, and despatches from Gerald Aungier, the governor f the colony.” Childs frowned and shook his head, reluctant to speak the next words.

“We have lost two ships. The Minotaur and the Albion Spring.” Hal rocked back in his chair as though he had taken a punch to the head.

“Those two are the pride of the fleet,” he exclaimed.

It was almost impossible to believe. The East Indiamen, those stately, magnificent vessels, were the lords of the oceans, built not only for the carrying of cargo but for the prestige of the great and prosperous company that owned them and of the English Crown under whose charter they sailed.

“Wrecked?” Hal hazarded. Even the might of the Company must be shaken by the magnitude of the loss. One such vessel sunk was a terrible blow. Two ships lost was a disaster, perhaps worth a hundred thousand pounds with the cargoes.

“Where were they wrecked?” he demanded.

“The Agulhas Bank? The coral reefs of the Mascarenes?”

“They were not wrecked,” said Childs ominously.

“What then?”

“Pirates,” said Childs.

“Corsairs.”

“Are you sure?

How can we know that?” The East Indiamen were built for speed and heavily armed for just such a contingency. It would take a warship of force to capture one. When this news spread, the value of the Company stock would plunge. His own investments would be slashed by thousands, nay, tens of thousands of pounds.

“For months now, both ships have been overdue. We had no news of either,” Childs said.

“But it seems that a single seaman escaped from the Minotaur. He was almost forty days at sea clinging to some piece of wreckage, drinking but a few drops of rainwater and eating raw fish he was able to catch, until he was at last thrown up on the wild African coast. He walked for weeks along the shore to reach the Portuguese settlement at Lobito. There he was able to find a berth on a sloop bound for Bombay. He told his story to Governor Aungier, who sent the seaman and his despatches back to us on board the Yeoman of York “Where is this seaman now?” Hal demanded.

“Have you spoken to him? Is he reliable?” Childs held up one hand to halt the flood of questions.

“He is in a safe place, and well cared for, but we don’t yet want him telling his story on the streets of London, or in a coffeehouse.”

Hal nodded: that made good sense.

“And, yes, I have spoken to him at length. He seems a sensible lad, tough and resourceful, if his account is true, which I think it is.”

“What does he say happened?”

“In essence, the Minotaur came upon a small dhow in distress off the island of Madagascar and took off her crew of a dozen before she sank.

But that first night the survivors seized control of the deck during the middle watch. They had concealed weapons on their persons and they slit the throats of the officers of the watch. Of course, the crew of the Minotaur should have had small trouble regaining the ship from such a tiny band of pirates, but almost immediately a fleet of small boats swarmed out of the darkness, obviously in response to a signal, and the band of pirates already on board were able to prevent the ship’s company from serving the guns or otherwise defending themselves until it was too late.”

“How did this man escape?”

“Most of the Minotaur’s men were massacred, but this man, Wilson is his name, convinced the pirate captain that he would enlist with his band and lead him to other plunder. Wilson then seized his first opportunity to escape and slipped overboard through a gun port with a small wooden keg as a float.” Childs opened a silver casket and brought out a long brown object that looked like a piece of dead tree bark.

“Tobacco leaves rolled into a stick,” he explained.

“Spanish, from their colonies in America. They call it a cigarro. I have come to prefer them to a pipe. Will you try one? Here, let me prepare it for you.” He made a fuss of sniffing it and cutting off a sliver of the dark tobacco from one end.

Hal accepted it and sniffed it suspiciously. The aroma was surprisingly pleasing. He followed Childs’s example and lit the end of the tube from the burning taper Childs held for him. He puffed cautiously and found that, even though he was distressed by what he had just learned, the taste was to his liking, better than any pipe he had ever taken.

By now both other men were puffing on their cigarros, which gave Hal a few minutes to consider the problem with which Childs had presented him.

“You said two ships were lost,” he said.

“Yes,” Childs agreed.

“The Albion Spring only weeks before the Minotaur. Taken by the same gang of cutthroats.”

“How can we be sure of that?”

“The pirate captain boasted of his exploits to this man Wilson.” After another long silence Hal asked, “What do you intend to do about this, my lord?” Then his pulse quickened as he saw the two men exchange glances, and he had the first inkling as to why he had been invited to this intimate meeting.

Childs wiped beef fat from his jowls with the back of his hand, then winked at Hal like a conspirator.

“We are going to send someone to deal with this pirate fellow, Jangiri. That’s the rascal’s name Jangiri.”

“Who will you send?” asked Hal, already knowing the answer.

“by, you, of course.”

“But, my lord, I am now a farmer and a county squire.”

“Of only a few years” standing,” Hyde cut in.

“Before that you were one of the most eminently successful mariners in the southern and eastern oceans.” Hal was silent. It was true, of course.

These two knew everything about him.

They could almost certainly detail every voyage he had made, and Hyde would have in his records every return of treasure and precious cargo he had made to the Treasury.

“My lords, I have a family, four sons to care for, and no woman to share the responsibility. That is the reason I no longer go seafaring.”

“Yes, I know why you gave up the sea, Courtney, and you have my deepest condolences for the loss of your wife.

But, on the other hand, even your youngest son must now be of the age when you yourself first went to sea. There is no reason why you cannot find berths for every one of your offspring aboard a wellbound ship.” That was also true.

Childs had clearly planned his strategy with great attention to detail, but Hal was determined not to make it easy for him.

“I could not leave my responsibilities at High Weald.

Without careful administration of my estates I would be beggared.”

“My dear Sir Henry,” Hyde smiled, “my own son was at King’s College with your William. They are still the greatest of friends and correspond regularly. I understand that the administration of your estates has become almost solely the charge of young William, and that you spend much of your time hawking, hunting, reading and reminiscing with your old shipmates.” Hal flushed with anger. Was that William’s estimation of his worth and contribution to the running of High Weald and the mines?

“If this fellow, Jangiri, is not dealt with swiftly we will all be beggared,” Childs added.

“You are the best man for the job, and we all know it.”

“The suppression of piracy is the concern of the King’s navy,” Hal retorted stubbornly.

“Indeed it is,” Hyde agreed.

“But by the end of the year we will be at war with France and the King’s navy will have more pressing matters with which to attend. It may be several years before the Admiralty can turn its mind to voliciny the far oceans of the globe and we dare not wait that long. Jangiri already has two ships of great power under his command. Who can say that in a year or two he will not be strong enough to attack Bombay or our factories on the Carnatic coast? Your shares in the Company would be worth little if he succeeded.” Hal moved restlessly in his chair and fiddled with the stern of his wineglass. This was what he had been waiting for secretly, during these past months of boredom and inactivity. His blood was charging, his mind raced, flitting from idea to idea like a sunbird on a flowering tree, darting from bloom to bloom to drink its nectar.

have no ship, he said. He had sold the Golden Bough when he came back to Devon. She was tired and her hull eaten half away by ship-worm.

“I would need a ship of equal or superior force to the Minotaur or the Albion Spring.”

“I can offer you a squadron of two fine ships,” Childs countered easily.

“Your flagship would be the new Seraph, the finest vessel the Company has ever built. Thirty-six guns and fast as a gull. She is this very day fitting out at Deptford yard.

She can be ready for sea by the month’s end.”

“And the other?”

Hal demanded.

“The Yeonwn of York, the same ship that carried this lad Wilson back from Bombay. It will have completed its refit by the end of the week and be ready for sea again.

Also thirty-six guns. Captain Edward Anderson, a fine seaman.”

“I know him well.” Hal nodded.

“But what authority would I sail under?”

Hal was determined to resist a little longer.

“By noon tomorrow,” Hyde promised, “I can deliver to you a commission signed by His Majesty’s own hand, authority to seek out and destroy or take as prize the ships and property of the corsairs.”

“What terms of prize?” Hal turned his full attention to him.

“One third to the Crown, one third to the East India Company, and the last third to you and your crew,” Hyde suggested.

“If I were to go, and there is no guarantee that I shall, I would like to have half to myself and my men.”

“It is true, then.” Hyde looked miserable.

“You strike a hard bargain. We can discuss that when you agree to take the commission.”

“I should like to be able to trade for my own account during the voyage.” It was one of the tenets of Company policy that its captains should not indulge in private trade, and thereby risk a conflict of interest and loyalty. Childs’s face darkened and his jowls wobbled with outrage.