Blood Diamond: A Pirate Devlin Novel

Blood Diamond: A Pirate Devlin Novel

 

 

Mark Keating

 

 

 

 

www.hodder.co.uk

First published in Great Britain in 2012 by Hodder & Stoughton

An Hachette UK company

 

Copyright © Mark Keating 2012

 

The right of Mark Keating to be identified as the Author of the Work

has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright,

Designs and Patents Act 1988.

 

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,

stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any

means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be

otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that

in which it is published and without a similar condition being

imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

 

All characters in this publication are fictitious or are historical figures

whose words and actions are fictitious. Any other resemblance to

real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

 

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

 

eBook ISBN 978 1 444 72787 6

Book ISBN 978 1 444 72784 5

 

Hodder & Stoughton Ltd

338 Euston Road

London NW1 3BH

 

www.hodder.co.uk

Contents

Dedication

Quotation

Prologue

 

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

 

Epilogue

Author’s Note

About the Author

For my parents

But ships are but boards, sailors but men:

there be land-rats and water-rats,

water-thieves and land-thieves;

I mean pirates . . .

 

Shylock

The Merchant of Venice

Prologue

The gentleman in the purple silk banyan and cap looked out over the ornamental gardens – not his gardens, only leased, along with the London mansion that had lately become his home.

January. An icy January. No wonder one could not enjoy fountains in this miserable city if even the Thames froze solid.

The gown hoisted itself as he set his hands on his hips, revealing bone-thin ankles and slipper-heels to the dark official sitting quietly several feet behind him.

The gentleman’s back rose and fell as he took in the futility and desperation that now faced them. Faced the whole country.

He watched the peacocks on the lawn beyond and promised himself to shoot one after this tiresome meeting was adjourned. At last he spoke again.

‘Well, how does one find a “pirate”? If that is our only choice.’

The official in black serge and Mechlin cravat shifted in his seat. He was senior in years to the gentleman at the window but lacked the capacity for indulgence that made the other seem the older man.

‘Not our only choice, but for secrecy and immediate solution it has many avenues through which we may profit.’

The purple gown rustled downwards again as the gentleman turned to face the official. ‘How so, profit?’ Still a trace of accent remained in his vowels that years of cavorting in London had failed to erase.

A fidgeting emanated from the chair. ‘If we engage a pirate for the task I believe we will more likely minimise future intrusions on our goodwill than if we choose a native party. Awarding a pirate a Mart will enable him to legalise his trade and grant him freedom from persecution by our navy, naturally. Then he will be gone. Back to the seas. A pirate will come with his own ship, his own men. We will leave no paper trail beyond these walls and the principals involved.’ The official shifted again, leaning his chin into his hand. ‘And, should he refuse our proposal, it would not seem untoward that such a fiend be destroyed, for that is our duty; and if he fails . . . what mystery is there in a pirate attempting such an action?’

The gentleman nodded agreement. ‘And of course he would want to be unknown? His life is discretion, no?’ He pointed sharply. ‘But he must be
good
. Perfect in fact. Already a success so he should not want to betray us. He should have no objective other than reward and pardon for his crimes to continue under sanction. Less than a base man would want.’

‘Precisely.’

The gentleman picked up a burnished carapace paperweight from his escritoire and made it swim to and fro. ‘But again, how
does one find a such a man?’

‘I have already taken the liberty of drafting a letter to accompany every packet that sails for the Americas and New Spain. I am sending a political advisor with the letter on every South Sea Company vessel. Any ship that is due to sail the pirate round will deliver such a letter until the appropriate party is found.’

‘The “pirate round”? How
so this?’

‘The Caribbean, the Carolinas, the slave coast, New Spain, Newfoundland, the Verdes. It will not be perfect. That is why I have given plenty of time for the task. We need only panic if September comes too soon.’

The gentleman put back the tortoiseshell. ‘But who is to receive the letter? Who have you in mind that is neither too loathsome nor incapable?’

The other drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair and thought on the fact that the chosen man had been his decision alone, and his blame alone should all go wrong. But no matter; come September half the world would be ruined if he did not act.

‘I have thought on a rogue known as Devlin. An Irishman, but no matter for all that. He has excelled beyond the curse of his birth.’

‘How
so? I have never heard of him?’

‘It is pertinent that one only hears of “unsuccessful” pirates. Those of us in the polite world only know of them when they are . . . no more. This pirate Devlin has shown himself to be most able.’

‘How so?’

The repetition of this question with its faint German inflection still caused subtle amusement in the official, although he had known the gentleman for years now and was sufficiently familiar to call him, in certain circles, a friend.

He cleared his throat, recalling the notes studied on the carriage journey to Leicester House.

‘This is the same pirate that stole a considerable sum of gold from out of French pockets, and ours, some years back. Gold we had intended for our own use once we became aware of its existence. A year later he bought his freedom with the secret of the art of porcelain, which we gratefully profit from, as does all Europe, which shows he is a man not unaccustomed to subterfuge and espionage while wishing scant profit for himself other than his ongoing freedom. You will know something of this in that he cost us one of our finest international agents. A man I had thought impossible to destroy and have found impossible to replace.’

The gentleman nodded at some memory of this, although the name escaped him. ‘He killed him?’

‘He killed him. And escaped from imprisonment on New Providence under the very roof of Governor Rogers. He has also collected enemies in our allies, all of whom have orders against him. Another reason why he may be willing to accept the sanctity of the crown. For a time at least. As we see fit.’

A small silence reigned as the gentleman tapped at his chin and lingered over the idea. ‘Very well, Walpole. To your business, and bother me no further with the matter until the pirate is before me. I wish my father and my wife to hear none of this. Promise two thousand pounds to this pirate and my warrant. His head if he fails.’

Robert Walpole, Paymaster General, stood and bowed. From the door, already opened as if by some secret signal, a footman appeared holding his hat and cloak. Walpole, head still lowered, backed out of the room.

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