In Dangerous Company: The Dorset Boy Book 4 Read online

  He looked so wretched that Marty relented and patted him on the shoulder, after Thompson had pointed it out he could see the mast sticking up around mid-channel a little way up stream.

  “Look, you did what you could, and no one can blame you for losing a couple of men in that maelstrom last night.” He looked at the other men. “Get in the gig we need to go home.”

  The wind was contrary, so they used the sweeps to get The Alouette out of the estuary once the wind had dropped to the point, they could row against it. It was a hard slog and all of the rowers were exhausted by the time they had enough sea room to hoist the sails. Marty looked back at the plume of smoke from the burning barge and sighed.

  Chapter 18 Truth and Consequences

  He sent in his report and waited for the bad news. Officers who failed in their missions had to face a court-martial and his had gone spectacularly wrong. On top of that he had lost two men for no noticeable gain. Caroline was in Cheshire sorting out a problem on the estate. A pair of tenants were disputing the rights to grazing on some land that for some reason had never been formally enclosed between their tenancies. Armand was staying at the farm and tried to reassure Marty that he had done nothing wrong, but it didn’t stop him from fretting and stressing over it.

  The dreaded letter arrived, Marty was summoned to attend a court-martial inquiry into the loss of the two barges and the failure of his mission. It was to be held in the port of London at St Catherine’s dock on the frigate, HMS Tempest. It didn’t strike him as unusual, but it was probably the first and last to be held there especially as St Catherine’s was a commercial dock.

  He reported aboard at the allotted time and was shown in to the captain’s cabin. There was the usual table with four officers and a clerk sat behind it. In the middle was Commodore Pellew, with three other Captains whose names just slid over him but were all familiar in some way. He welcomed Marty and made an opening statement.

  “We are not here to try you for dereliction of duty or to judge you. We are here to establish the facts of what has occurred and make a recommendation as to what further action, if any, should be taken. Do you understand?”

  Marty confirmed his understanding and the enquiry began. They had his report and also reports from the two Midshipmen. They asked him to describe the entire mission from its planning through to the aborted end. He was cross examined and asked to justify his decisions. When they had finished, he was told he would be informed of the outcome at the Admiralties convenience.

  As he left, he looked through to the coach and saw both his midshipmen sitting pale faced, waiting to be called. He wanted to reassure them but the lieutenant escorting him hurried him along and off the ship.

  He stood on the harbour and looked at the ship for the first time. She was an old ‘Jackass Frigate’. Too small to be of much use against the modern French frigates but too big to be considered a Sloop and had a raised quarterdeck. She was probably twenty years old but looked to be in fair condition. ‘What the hell is she doing here?’ he thought.

  Puzzled he left the docks and got a cab to his house. Blaez met him at the door, letting him know that he was upset at being left out of whatever his boss had been doing. After he got out of uniform, he went into the drawing room and sat in his favourite chair. Blaez climbed on his lap and made himself comfortable. He had this neat trick of leaning back with his head stretched up so that the top of it was laying against Marty’s chest and licking him under the chin. Marty was expected to rub his throat and make ‘love you’ noises. He wished Caroline was there. He could do with a cuddle right now and was feeling vulnerable.

  He heard nothing from the Admiralty for a week. Both James Campbell and Ryan Thompson visited but all they could tell him was that they had been interrogated, just as he was.

  Caroline came back to London at the weekend and life was better. He wondered why he had heard nothing from either Hood or Wickham. Even Armand seemed to be avoiding him. He was just beginning to feel like an outcast when a courier arrived at breakfast on the Monday morning with a letter from the admiralty.

  He opened it with his heart in his mouth and his stomach knotted. His hands shook for the first time ever, he was genuinely frightened at what he would read.

  Caroline watched as he opened the envelope and took out the paper inside. She tried to read his expression as he scanned down the page. She was scared for him too but at the same time had a guilty wish he was kicked out of the Navy so she could keep him to herself. He looked at her and folded onto his chair.

  “What does it say?” she asked with her heart in her mouth.

  Marty took a deep shuddering breath.

  “I have been exonerated of any blame, and neither I nor my Midshipmen will face any further action.”

  He started to laugh and then jumped out of his chair, grabbed Caroline and swung her around. She squealed and found herself being kissed very thoroughly then picked up and carried upstairs.

  Wickham came visiting the next morning and, once he had settled in one of the comfortable chairs in the library with a cup of coffee, said.

  “Armand will not be going back into France again, the beating he received had permanently damaged his ribs.”

  “Will he be forced out of the Navy as well?” Marty asked.

  “No, he will retain his rank and take over the SOF operation in Deal. He will also be handling some of our agents in France and being in Deal at The Farm will make that easy.”

  Marty suddenly realised what that meant was, he wasn’t going to be in command of the S.O.F. anymore. Was his career over?

  Wickham continued.

  “He will be able to be with his wife and child as well. He deserves that. Had the pleasure of meeting his good lady last week actually. Makes a damn fine pie!”

  Marty swallowed and agreed with a forced smile.

  “Oh, and Linette is back in England as well. She said to say hello and to give you her love.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “How close did you two actually work together in France?”

  Marty’s face must have shown his outrage at the idea and Wickham chuckled and said.

  “Oh don’t look like that she told me it was all very professional and in any case she likes Caroline too much to . . . well you know,” he finished lamely.

  Marty was feeling like he was going to explode! When would this damn man put him out of his misery!

  There was a knock at the front door, and he heard the butler greet whoever it was. The library door opened, the butler entered and announced:

  “Admiral Lord Hood, Milord,” and in walked Hood with a beaming smile on his face.

  “Martin m’boy! How are you?” he roared in his quarterdeck voice. “Is that coffee? Capital, capital. Sorry I’m late.”

  Now Marty was totally confused, he had just been told news that was completely at odds with the welcome from Hood. He composed himself as Hood was served coffee and the Butler discreetly made himself scarce.

  “To business.” Hood opened. “I believe William has told you about Armand?”

  Marty nodded.

  “Good. Now we have a problem,” he continued, and Marty thought ‘here it comes!’

  “Our holdings in the Caribbean are being badly affected by the depredations of privateers and pirates.” Hood started to explain

  ‘What the hell?’ Marty thought but just managed to keep a straight face.

  “They are taking any cargo vessel that’s not in convoy and escorted by the Navy and even then, the audacious bastards are cutting ships out of the convoys before our boys can stop them. The Caribbean fleet doesn’t have enough ships to patrol all the islands, or properly escort the convoys, and really is on a hiding to nothing. We are losing millions of pounds because of it.”

  ‘By ‘we’ he means the plantation owners and Lloyds I bet.’

  “You, my boy, have an enviable record against pirates, don’t you?” It was a rhetorical question, but Marty nodded all the same.

  “So, what we want
you to do is pose as a privateer, or pirate, and infiltrate the pirate brotherhood so we can pinpoint their bases and hit them at home as it were.” He then leaned back in his chair with his coffee and beamed at Marty expectantly.

  “You have a plan already?” Marty asked.

  “No, we thought as you are the expert, we would leave that to you,” Wickham chipped in.

  “We do have a ship for you. She was coming up for decommissioning and was sold off yesterday, so we took the liberty of buying her in your name,” Hood smiled.

  ‘What are they going to be lumbering me with?’ Marty thought worriedly.

  “In fact, you know her. It’s the Tempest.”

  “The Frigate that my enquiry was held on?”

  “The very one!”

  Marty had a sudden realisation.

  “My ‘inquiry’ was a put-up job?” He asked through clenched teeth.

  “The enquiry was absolutely genuine.” Hood placated him. “The result, however, was never in doubt.”

  “You mean I have been sitting here for the last week, chewing my fingernails to the quick worrying about the outcome for nothing?” Marty fairly squawked, outraged.

  The two older men looked at each other in amazement.

  “You didn’t twig it?” Wickham asked. “The ship being in a commercial dock in London. Pellew, who was on your commissioning board as chairman. Three Captains who all had served under Hood.”

  “It was rigged?” Marty stated glaring at the two of them.

  “Well rigged is maybe putting it too strongly.” Wickham stated trying to placate him. “The enquiry was genuine enough.”

  Marty took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘His record was clean and that was all that mattered in the end,’ he told himself.

  “On paper I own The Tempest?” he asked trying to get things back on track.

  “Well a man called Martin Stanwell does and that is in fact you.” Hood answered relieved the fire had been damped down.

  “My Nom de plume then. My crew?” Marty asked.

  “Apart from the rogues who follow you around and James Campbell you need to recruit a crew. We think that the pirates have eyes in London and other main ports so we need to make this look as genuine as we can.” Hood clarified.

  Marty considered for a moment or two then said.

  “Alright it can be done. It’s November now and the end of the Hurricane season. To get a full crew together around a core of men I can trust will take at least a couple of months as will fitting out the Tempest as a privateer. I will aim to sail in early March.”

  He looked at the two of them.

  “I want the crew of the Lark and twenty of the Marines from the S.O.F.. I assume this is being done under the auspices of the S.O.F.?”

  “Absolutely,” said Hood without batting an eyelid. “You can have your men.”

  The two men walked side by side back to Wickham’s house.

  “You changed your mind then.” Wickham stated. “This will be an S.O.F. operation after all.”

  “Naval Intelligence or S.O.F. what’s the difference?” Hood pondered. “Either way he is on his own once he is out there. Nobody is going to run to his rescue if he gets into a mess, but that is nothing new. If he manages this, there will be a Captaincy in it for him.” Hood replied.

  “Well that won’t make any difference to the Navy.” Wickham chuckled. “Half the Captains are bloody pirates all ready.”

  Chapter 19 The Tempest

  “Sorry love but this time you can’t come with me.” Marty told Caroline when he broke the news of his new mission to her. “I won’t be on any of the main islands and I wouldn’t sleep at night knowing you were out there with the kids exposed to all the fevers and the like.”

  The look on her face told him she didn’t like the idea – at all. She was about to protest when she looked at the pile of letters on her desk and thought about running her (their) commercial empire from the Caribbean. She had fingers in a lot of pies these days including the estates in Cheshire and Dorset, the wine and brandy distribution business, importing gem stones and spices, the shipping company and a number of other things she didn’t think Marty knew about yet.

  She had thoughts about maybe acquiring a plantation or two when she heard he was going to be in the Caribbean, but that could wait, as she suspected there would be some fallout from this latest mission and knowing Marty she expected that he would come out of it with something substantial.

  She capitulated much to Marty’s surprise and even though there was a slight mist of suspicion in his mind he accepted it at face value.

  “I need to get down to St Catherine’s dock and start getting The Tempest into shape,” he said. “I will be back for dinner and to put the kids to bed.”

  He had started dressing in the typical clothes of a Privateer. A frilled shirt and long black jacket, tight fitting breaches and high boots. He was armed as usual and got some interested stares from dock workers and some interesting offers from the whores hanging out of their windows. He was deeply into his alter ego’s persona and his language was reverting more to Dorset than the Navy.

  The Tempest stood high in the water. The Navy had stripped her of her guns, but Marty didn’t mind that at all. He was meeting Tom and they would work out what they needed then go and talk to his old friend Mr Fletcher, who he knew could outfit his ship just how he wanted it.

  She was tied up at the dock and Marty saw that the Shadows were already onboard along with James. The rest of the Snipes would arrive in the next couple of days along with the twenty named marines he had chosen. He approached the gangplank and found himself looking down the barrel of a pistol until Antton realised it was him and beckoned him aboard with a laugh.

  “Is that necessary?” he asked nodding at the pistol.

  “This dock is full of thievin’ ‘erberts.” John Smith supplied as he walked past with a box of fresh vegetables. “Caught one trying to shin up the forward mooring rope last night.”

  “Did you now, and what happened to him?” Marty asked.

  “She ended up swimmin’ back to shore.” John laughed.

  He was soon joined by Tom and James and they walked the gun deck. She was set up to carry twenty-four guns and had nine-pounders fitted before. She had no stern chasers but could be fitted with a couple of fore chasers. At the moment she had ports for twelve guns a side, but Marty had ideas about that.

  “If we put in a couple of big fore chasers how many ports would we have to lose?” he asked Tom.

  “What like long nines? Or bigger?” Tom asked.

  “I was thinking twenty-four pounders.” Marty replied.

  “Then you would lose two at the front each side.” Tom calculated. “If you be plannin’ on adding a couple of carronades a side at the stern you would probably maintain her trim an’ all. An’ if you mount the rearmost pair in the aft corner of the quarterdeck you could train them around to cover the stern.”

  “If you made the guns on the side twelve pounders would you still get ten in.” James asked.

  Marty laughed as James had read his mind.

  “She be broad in the beam,” Tom observed, “so I reckon she could take ‘em.”

  A voice made them jump.

  “And make sure there are plenty of mounts for swivels down the rails and all,” said the urbane tones of Paul La Pierre, the Marine Lieutenant.

  “What are you doing here?” Marty asked in surprise.

  “Heard you were up to something and as things are quiet at the farm thought I’d come along and offer m’ services.”

  “No raids?” Marty asked.

  “Just smashing up semaphore towers and the like, unfortunately Armand hasn’t got your imagination and they don’t need me for that,” he looked around “but this looks much more interesting. Where are we going?”

  Marty noted the ‘we’ in that question and couldn’t help but smile.

  “Well if you are determined to tag along, we are heading down to the Carib
bean to play pirate for a bit.”

  “Sounds, bloody marvellous.” Paul grinned back at him “I’ll get my stuff aboard then.”

  Two days later Marty and Tom were sat drinking a glass of port in Fletcher’s office. He had his manservant replace the short-legged chair, that he had tried to intimidate Marty in last time he was there, with a couple of nice padded chairs. He did however keep a careful eye on the saddlebags that Marty dropped beside his seat with a pronounced clink.

  “You are shopping again I hear,” he mentioned with a sly look. “Need to fill up something a bit bigger this time.”

  “You are well informed as usual.” Marty smiled back. “Word gets around doesn’t it.”

  “Don’t worry, nobody else made the connection between the sale of the Frigate and you.” Fletcher reassured him. “Now what do you need?”

  Marty handed over the list and Fletcher went to work with a will. The beads on his abacus flew back and forth as he totted up the cost. He asked for clarification on the number of swivels as they had asked for a lot. He also raised his eyebrows at the number of Nock volley guns.

  “If I didn’t know better, I would say you were preparing this ship for chasing and boarding as well as giving someone a nasty surprise if they tried boarding you.” He observed as he added in the cost of five-hundred grenades.

  “To save time and because I know you,” he said as he finished and wrote down the final sum. “I will cut straight to the drop-dead price. Two thousand three hundred and fifty-nine pounds.”

  Tom looked at Marty and they exchanged the slightest of nods.

  “When can it all be delivered?” he asked.

  “Fastest I can gather this lot together will be at least a month and then I need to move it up river to St. Catherine’s Dock. That will take a couple of days by barge.” Fletcher replied.

  “That’s a deal then.” Marty said opened the saddleback and emptied it on Fletcher’s desk. “That’s twelve hundred on account in gold.”

  Fletcher roared with laughter. “I knew you would know how much! My offer still stands my friend. Anytime you want to go into business just call me.”