Marbeck and the Privateers (19 page)

Woollard thought for a moment. ‘There's one thing, and perhaps one only, that might entice Gideon Swann ashore,' he allowed: ‘the prospect of a royal pardon. I've a suspicion the man's tired. He's a widower who sees himself growing old, with no berth to fall back to. He's been steeped in the vile trade too long, and now he drinks to dull the guilt …' He eyed Marbeck grimly. ‘But it would be a hard task to convince his sons that the offer was genuine – let alone Swann himself.'

‘Unless he agreed to turn King's evidence against his fellow slaver,' Marbeck said. Suddenly he was excited: out of the gloom, a flame of hope flared. ‘And against Quiney too … but it would be difficult to carry this off alone. An official of the Admiralty would arrive with an escort, servants …'

‘You don't mean to include me?' Woollard broke in with a start. ‘I've told you, I'm well known here …'

‘You could help me forge documents, at least,' Marbeck persisted. ‘You have sealing wax, do you not, and paper of good quality?' Then another thought struck him. ‘As for Portland Castle: if I presented myself to the commander as a servant of the Crown, and showed him a written order, would he not supply the escort?'

‘I suppose he might,' Woollard said, after a moment. ‘But you play with lives here, Giles Blunt: your own, and mine too.' He heaved a sigh of resignation. ‘God help us both.'

The following morning, Marbeck left the barber-surgeon's house in a state of excitement tempered with caution. The better for a night's rest under Woollard's roof, he nevertheless felt a burden on his shoulders, with little chance of relieving it any time soon.

He had amended his role: Marcus Janes was now a special envoy of Charles Howard, Earl of Nottingham – the Lord Admiral. In his pocket was a document bearing a convincing-looking seal that had cost both Marbeck and Woollard hours of labour the night before. Addressed to the commander of the garrison at Portland Castle, it requested him to supply Janes with an escort of armed men, to accompany him as and when directed, on warrant from the High Court of Admiralty. Thus equipped, and with a new purpose in his stride, he took Cobb out of Woollard's tiny lean-to and rode out along the coastal path to Portland.

The day was fair, the grass lush after the night's rain. Below and to his left, a few fishing boats were moving. Soon he had passed Sandsfoot Castle and reached the end of the peninsula, from where a narrow ribbon of land led out to the Isle of Portland. Chesil Beach was over to his right, with the English Channel stretching away to the horizon. But his eyes were fixed on the low fortification ahead, now visible where the land widened again: Portland Castle, built upon the rocky coast facing the bay. A few minutes later he was presenting himself at the gates and showing his papers to a sentry. And a short while after that he was in a chamber of the castle, facing a grizzled captain seated behind a table untidy with charts and dockets, who gave his name as Niles.

‘The Lord Admiral sent you?' He eyed Marbeck with frank scepticism. ‘I thought he'd forgotten our very existence here … why the sudden interest?'

So Marbeck took a breath, and span his tale. The Privy Council had learned of corsair activity by two vessels owned and fitted out by a wealthy venturer close to Weymouth. The ships had been running contraband, as well as abducting people and selling them into slavery, and the Lord Howard was keen to arrest them if chance arose, which it appeared to have done …

‘Wealthy venturer?' Niles echoed. ‘Who might that be?' And when Marbeck told him, the frown deepened. ‘Quiney! But he's the biggest landowner hereabouts … he supplies us with grain.'

‘As he supplies slaves to Barbary,' Marbeck said flatly. ‘English men, women – and children. His captains sell them in the slave markets in Algiers and Tunis.'

The other frowned. ‘Do you have evidence of this?'

‘I have the testimony of a freed captive, and no doubt others will be found,' Marbeck said. He had no wish to elaborate, for he knew this man could make difficulties. To his relief, however, Captain Niles's mind was running in a different direction.

‘Well, here's a turnabout,' he said thoughtfully. ‘You're not the first to level charges of villainy against Quiney's vessels. Though none has dared point the finger at Sir Edward himself.' He peered again at Marbeck's forged paper. ‘You name only one of the captains: Gideon Swann. What of the other?'

‘The other's …' Marbeck broke off, realizing that what he was saying would not be news to Captain Niles. Likely the man knew more of these people than he did. ‘I think you know who I speak of,' he resumed. ‘Swann and Beck – the Sea Locusts.'

‘Oh yes … I've heard of them.' Niles regarded him for a long moment from under his spiky eyebrows. ‘There's a name that's been feared for years, though rarely spoken aloud – all along the coast from Portsmouth to Plymouth … but again I ask – why now?'

‘They've strayed too far,' Marbeck told him, thinking fast. ‘Attacked and looted Spanish vessels, in violation of the new law – which makes them pirates. Now that Lords Howard and Cecil are conducting peace negotiations, an example must be made: a goodwill gesture to the King of Spain.'

Niles looked down again, fingering the paper. Marbeck could only hope that the seal looked real enough. The text – full of long words and Latin phrases dreamed up by Woollard and himself – should pass muster, he thought. Assuming a haughty air he allowed impatience to show. ‘Come, Captain,' he said, ‘time grows short, and I have plans. I hope to entice Gideon Swann ashore – perhaps this very night. If he lands at Newton's Cove, we can take him …'

‘We?' Niles raised his brows.

‘Myself, and a small company of your best soldiers, if you will – as many as you can spare. Well armed, of course …'

‘And if we did manage to capture the man, without loss of life – what then?'

‘I would ask you to hold him here, until arrangements can be made to take him to London,' Marbeck replied. Though he was far from confident on that score: even if his scheme succeeded, he was uncertain what Monk's reaction would be when he made his report, let alone what the Lord Secretary would say. As for forging the Lord Admiral's seal … it was a felony. Standing stiffly, facing a plain man like Niles who appeared a stranger to deception, he steeled himself for disappointment.

‘You're a courageous man, Janes,' the captain said at last.

Marbeck said nothing.

‘Whatever strategy you have for getting a man like Swann to come ashore, I'd applaud you for it – if it works,' he added. ‘My part's somewhat easier, if my men have only to take him prisoner and clap him in a dungeon.' He leaned back, and let out a sigh. ‘But at the first hint of his capture, the other vessel will be gone, out of our reach. The Lord Admiral may hate pirates, but he has no ships near. And as for Quiney, he's beyond your warrant.'

‘I understand that,' Marbeck said. ‘If I get a message to you later, could you have a troop ready? A corporal perhaps, and say, four or five men …'

‘Three men,' Niles said. ‘And there'll be no corporal: I'll command them myself.'

Hiding his relief, Marbeck nodded his agreement.

He was over one hurdle, even if it was perhaps the least of them. And late that same afternoon, as he prepared to move his plan forward, Woollard proved to be another.

‘I humoured you last night,' the barber-surgeon said. ‘But in the light of day, I've decided you're off your head. I won't say you should be in Bedlam: it's not a place to which I'd condemn any man.'

They were outdoors walking the sandy, upper part of the beach; Marbeck led Cobb, ready saddled. Having learned from Woollard where the Swann brothers lived, he was eager to confront them, but the other man was on edge. ‘You're putting your head in a maw,' he protested. ‘What if they disbelieve you? There are a hundred ways you can disappear, and no one would ever know you'd been here, let alone find your body. From what you've told me the Swanns got a good look at you at Chesil – do you not think they'll recognize you?'

‘Of course they will,' Marbeck said. ‘I'll have to bluff … when they see how stark the choice is, I believe they'll comply.'

‘Even if they will, what makes you think the father would follow?' Woollard demanded. ‘He'd suspect he was putting his own neck in the noose.'

‘Then I'll have to be at my most persuasive,' Marbeck said briskly. ‘Now – the message to Captain Niles at Portland. Can you have it delivered when I ask?'

‘Yes …' Seeing that he could not dissuade him, the other sighed. ‘There's a boy runs errands for me, who knows how to hold his tongue. He also knows the coast path. He can get it there within an hour.'

‘Good.' Marbeck filled his lungs with sea air, and looked up at the gulls wheeling. ‘Then you've done your part, and I'm in your debt.' Facing Woollard, he lowered his voice. ‘None shall know of your service save my masters, when the time comes …'

‘
If
it comes,' Woollard muttered. ‘And as for knowing I've aided you: I've told you, they probably do already.' And with that he walked off towards the town. Marbeck watched him go, a hunched figure in his black gown, and a feeling of unease stole over him. But forcing it aside, he turned his thoughts elsewhere.

He led Cobb off the stony beach, mounted up and shook the reins. And a short while later he was riding out of Melcombe once again, over the bridge into Weymouth. Dogs barked and skittered away as he clattered onto the cobbles, heads turned as people paused from their quayside tasks, but he paid no attention. Turning to his right he rode to the edge of the little town, to a handful of mean cottages that clustered at the bend of the river, where it bent away northwards. Soon, still in the saddle, he reined in outside an open door and, reaching down, rapped loudly with the hilt of his poniard. Here was the home of the Swann family, or those that lived: the mother was dead, the father on his ship. When a figure appeared, Marbeck sheathed the dagger and straightened up.

‘Master Swann!' He looked down his nose at the younger boy, who started in alarm. ‘My name's Janes, envoy of the High Court of the Admiralty. I have a choice for you: find your brother and bring him to me, or I'll arrest you and have you clapped up on Portland Castle. So – what will it be?'

A
s evening drew in, Henry Swann sat on a sea chest in the downstairs room of his father's house and threw Marbeck a look of hate. Finally, after the last of several silences, he spoke up. ‘He'll never believe you … he smells treachery everywhere.'

Marbeck waited. He had spelled out the position, clearly and simply. And though the young man had at first been defiant, the sight of the written warrant had shaken him. When Marbeck also told him that ships of the King's navy would soon be setting out in pursuit of the
Amity
and the
Lion's Whelp
, he struggled to hide his fear.

‘Anyways, Father pays no mind to what me and Jack say,' he blustered. ‘He'll sail soon. He never comes ashore when he's about to sail.'

‘I think you sell yourself short, Henry,' Marbeck said. ‘A little persuasion is all that's needed. What of the pardon: is that not what he secretly wishes?'

‘How do you know what he wishes?' the boy retorted angrily. ‘You don't know him – you don't know anything of us!'

‘You forget what happened last Sabbath,' Marbeck broke in. ‘You thought I was snooping, and you were right. I found one of your kegs of Madeira …' He paused. ‘But you know that already, having spoken with your friend Buck.'

‘He's no friend of mine, or Jack's!' the other threw back. ‘He's a varlet who …' He stopped himself, whereupon Marbeck finished for him.

‘A varlet who pandered Mary Kellett – used her like a beast,' he said sharply. ‘But he also owns the boat and gives you orders, doesn't he? And he's a man you wouldn't cross even if your life depended on it … only now you see, it does.'

The boy gave a start. ‘What do you mean?'

‘You still don't understand?' Marbeck raised his eyebrows. ‘Evading customs fees is a felony, which strikes at the very heart of government. You steal from the Lord Secretary himself … Lord Cecil, who has the farm on imported wines. Do you truly think he would let a pair of wretches like you and your brother humiliate him, and go free?'

Henry stared. ‘By the Christ,' he muttered, ‘I wish …'

‘What do you wish – that whoever caught me at Hope Cove had ended my life, instead of merely giving me a keepsake?' Letting his own anger show, Marbeck lifted his sewn-up ear lobe, which made the boy flinch. ‘Were you one of those?' he demanded, placing his hand on his sword. ‘Then perhaps I should settle the score now, and deal with your brother instead—'

‘No, I wasn't!' The boy was on his feet suddenly. ‘You should ask Buck about that …'

‘I did,' Marbeck snapped. ‘And make no mistake, he'll pay in time. But what about you – do you think they'll let you walk away with merely a whipping and a branding? I know a justice who'll send you to the Dorchester gibbet and laugh while he does it. As for your brother, who sailed on the
Lion's Whelp
…' He shook his head. ‘Along with your father, he'll face the gallows at Execution Dock, where his body will dangle until three tides have washed over it—'

‘You're lying!' Henry shouted. Near to tears, he struggled to master himself. ‘Jack knew you were an Admiralty man!' he cried. ‘I thought you were one of Beck's …'

‘What?' Marbeck eyed him. ‘What of Beck? Speak up!'

The boy was looking wretched now. ‘He's spied on us before. He don't like what we do … says it's not our proper work …'