Marbeck and the Privateers (20 page)

‘You mean enslavement,' Marbeck said sharply. ‘That's outside my warrant, as it happens. But once it's bruited far and wide, I believe there will be kinfolk of the stolen ones who'll want vengeance for what's been done. In short, they'll come looking for Beck and for your father … and if they feel half as much rage as I do, they'll coat him in tar and watch him burn. I've seen a human torch, Henry … it's not a sight you forget.'

The boy gazed at him in horror; and when Marbeck merely stared back he slumped down on the chest. Outside the sun was low, and gulls were flying down the estuary for the night. Eyes downcast, he swallowed audibly.

‘You swear it's true, about the royal pardon?' he asked in a woeful tone. ‘If my father testifies against Beck, he'll go free?'

‘Well, not quite,' Marbeck said. ‘He has to testify against his master too, the owner of the vessels.'

But at that, Henry's anguish deepened. ‘No … don't ask that of him,' he mumbled. ‘You can't …'

‘I can and I do,' Marbeck replied.

A moment passed, before the boy looked up again. ‘It was you stole Mary Kellett away from Buck, wasn't it?'

‘I didn't steal her, I freed her,' Marbeck said shortly. ‘She's safe now.'

‘But you're not,' the other said at once. ‘He'll kill you … or Beck will. She was worth a lot to them.'

‘I can imagine,' Marbeck broke in. ‘And I don't think you liked the notion any more than I did. But pray, don't concern yourself about me – what of your father and brother?'

Henry hesitated, but it was clear that his mind was made up; having believed Marbeck's testimony, what other choice had he? Shakily, he gave a nod. ‘I'll get a message to Father tonight,' he said. ‘As for Jack …' He winced. ‘Likely he'll use his fists on me, just for talking to you. But if Father agrees to your terms, he'll follow.' He frowned. ‘The pardon's for all of us, you say – Father, Jack and me?'

Marbeck indicated assent, but another thought struck the boy. ‘See now, I can't swear to what'll happen, in the matter of Sir—' he began, before cutting himself off abruptly.

‘You mean Sir Edward Quiney – whose involvement is no longer a secret,' Marbeck said in a conversational tone. ‘His time too may be shorter than he thinks. But for now, the fate of your family lies in your hands – I'd advise you not to fail.'

Defeated, the boy sagged. ‘Where will you be, then?' he asked finally. ‘To await their answer?'

‘Melcombe beach, at the town end,' Marbeck replied. ‘I'll walk out there once in every hour, from noon tomorrow – after nightfall too. Whoever comes, if he's a stranger to me, let him make a sign, like this.' Lifting his hand, palm upwards, Marbeck rotated it. ‘Will that serve?'

But the other could barely manage a nod. With heavy heart, he stared at the floor.

 

After that, there followed a night and a day of inaction that pushed even Marbeck's patience to its limits. But for Thomas Woollard, the wait was intolerable.

It was a working day and the man had patients to attend to, which at least kept him occupied. Every hour, as he had told Henry Swann, Marbeck walked on the beach and waited, but nobody arrived to give him a sign. The rest of the time he stayed out of sight in the barber-surgeon's house, writing up a detailed report for his masters. He believed Henry would carry out what was agreed: for a contrabander, he thought, the boy was short on guile as well as ruthlessness. His brother constituted a more serious threat; but if their father saw an opportunity to change his future, Marbeck thought he would take it. Even Woollard had admitted that possibility, while remaining convinced that the whole scheme was doomed. And that evening, he gave vent to his frustration.

‘Can you even be certain of your Captain Niles?' he demanded. ‘The man's an unknown quantity. Some of those war veterans are out-and-out rogues … he might even be close with Swann and Beck himself.'

‘It's possible,' Marbeck allowed. They sat in Woollard's parlour again, the barber-surgeon nursing a jug of claret for comfort. ‘But I sent a report, which should have reached Cranborne by now.'

‘But any assistance that came –
if
it came – would be too late,' Woollard grumbled. ‘You've set your stall out here for all to see … heaven knows what they're plotting.'

‘You mean Buck, Beck or the Swanns?'

‘Any of them! I've told you their reach is long. None here dares stand against them. As for Quiney …' The surgeon raised his hands, and let them fall helplessly. ‘He could arraign you for slander, or swear out a warrant for any offence he cares to name. He can buy witnesses aplenty to testify against you.'

‘Might I ask a favour of you?' Marbeck said coolly. ‘Will you drop the subject, and let me fret for both of us?'

With a sigh, the surgeon turned away and took a drink. The evening was closing in, and after a while he got up to light candles. When his servant appeared to ask if he needed anything he sent her to bed, then found a book and tried to read it. But within the hour, when Marbeck had been out again and returned empty-handed, he threw it down with an oath. ‘How long do you propose to give them?' he asked.

Marbeck was gazing at the table, letting his mind roam over events. But having asked himself that very question, he gave his answer. ‘If there's no word by morning, I may have to cut my losses and leave,' he admitted.

‘At last, some prudence,' the other grunted, with a glance at the window. ‘That's another night's sleep you've cost me …' Sensing Marbeck's impatience, he paused. ‘The boy that I know … even if you receive the message you want, I fear to send him along the coast path at night.'

‘Yes.' Marbeck nodded. ‘We'll leave him out of it. If word comes I'll ride to Niles myself; it's not far from the castle to Newton's Cove.'

Relieved, Woollard took a gulp of claret. ‘You do know that every cottage on that cove houses either a friend of Gideon Swann, or at the least someone who wouldn't dare speak against him?' he said gloomily. ‘It could be you who finds yourself in a trap; three or four soldiers, however well armed, might not be enough …'

‘By the heavens, Woollard!' Marbeck exclaimed. ‘I've sworn to keep you out, haven't I? If it comes to the worst I'll confess I held you hostage. You tried to warn them, but I threatened you with this.' He tapped his sword-hilt. ‘Beyond that, you said you could bluff. God knows you're never short of words …'

He trailed off: Woollard's face was haggard, and there was shame in his eyes. When Marbeck opened his mouth again, however, the other stayed him.

‘No … say nothing further,' he muttered. ‘Do your work, I'll fashion a tale for myself.' He glanced at the window again. ‘It's about time you took another turn outside, isn't it?'

Marbeck hesitated, then gave a nod and went out.

The air was still warm when he walked the path out to the beach, for the eighth or ninth time; he had almost lost count. But the evening light was gone, with a breeze coming in from the south-west. He walked a few yards towards the shoreline, the noise of the surf rising. But a few nights ago, Oxenham had come at him out of the dark … He stopped, breathing deeply, his face to the sky … until a voice made him whirl round.

‘You're Janes?'

Hand on sword, Marbeck peered at the figure, barely visible in the gloom. ‘I am.' He took a step forward, and the other did the same – but even before he made out the features, he thought he recognized the voice.

‘And you are Jack Swann?'

The young man stopped, looked him up and down and gave a snort. ‘I was right about you, back on Chesil,' he said in a surly tone. ‘Combed your hair and took your beard off, have you? Why, you think it makes you a better man?'

‘The message,' Marbeck said mildly. ‘I've waited long enough – what's it to be?'

‘Aye, the bargain …' The other drew a long breath. ‘You were mighty lucky you found Henry home, and not me. I'd have taken a closer look at that warrant, and if I thought it was fake, you'd not be standing here now.'

‘I've no time for your bombast,' Marbeck said, summoning an officious tone. ‘My warrant bears the Lord Admiral's seal. Troops stand ready to aid me. You strike at me, you'll feel the full measure of the law – though since I'd have the right to act in my defence, I doubt you'd live that long.'

At that, the youth swore an oath. ‘If I wasn't here at the behest of another,' he began, ‘I'd let you try!'

‘Gideon Swann,' Marbeck snapped. ‘What's his answer – does he accept my terms or not?'

The other glowered. ‘He might,' he said finally. ‘He'll parley anyway – only not at Newton's Cove. He'd be somewhat closed in there, he says. He'll meet you tonight, at Chesil. You and no one else.'

Marbeck hesitated, his mind working. The beach was exposed, and some distance from any habitation; it would be difficult for Niles and his men to conceal themselves …

‘Does that make difficulties?' Swann took another step forward. Stuck in his belt was an old pistol, and another, curious-looking weapon: like a narrow billhook with a curve at the end. Catching Marbeck's glance, he smiled. ‘Like my blade, do you?' he said lightly. ‘It's Italian. They call it a
roncola
.'

‘How quaint,' Marbeck sniffed.

‘It took a man's arm off once.'

‘Not your father's, I hope?'

‘You whoreson …' The youth tensed, as if ready to draw the weapon there and then. ‘One-armed or not, Gideon Swann could butcher a cur like you!'

‘Chesil Beach,' Marbeck broke in. ‘It'll have to serve. I'll be there at midnight, with a torch. But if I'm to come alone I demand similar terms – I'll expect to see you and your father, and none else.'

A moment passed. Jack Swann's face was filled with anger and suspicion, and Marbeck was in little doubt that he had some strategy in mind. But then, he was planning a little surprise of his own.

‘Then what will happen?' the youth wanted to know. ‘Father won't stand for being treated like a captive … he'd fight to the death.'

‘There's no need for that,' Marbeck said. ‘I've a written statement prepared; all you and he have to do is put your names to it – and be ready to appear as witnesses later.' He put on a look of contempt. ‘That is, if you can write your names. Otherwise, a cross is the usual procedure. I'd have to witness it.'

‘I can write – and read!' the other retorted. ‘And I'll be taking a close look at that statement you speak of, before either of us put our names to it, and at your warrant too.'

‘My pleasure,' Marbeck said. ‘Now, hadn't you better be on your way? I'm a busy man …' He paused, and glanced out to the bay. ‘I take it the
Lion's Whelp
is at anchor out there. Will you send a longboat round Portland Isle, or …'

‘What does it matter to you?' Swann's eyes narrowed. ‘Just be there, like you've said.' Whereupon with a final look at Marbeck he turned about and disappeared into the dusk. His footsteps crunched on the shingle, then ceased.

Marbeck stood motionless, hearing the swell of the surf: the tide was incoming. Then he too left the beach, to tell Woollard that things were at last in motion. He would take Cobb out and ride to Portland to arrange a welcoming party – and set eyes, at last, on one of the Sea Locusts.

After that he would be obliged to place his trust in the reliability of Captain Niles, the credulity of Gideon Swann … and as always, in luck.

M
idnight had passed; Marbeck had no means of telling the hour, but he was certain of it. And as yet there had been no sign of a boat.

Cloaked against the night chill, he sat on his haunches and peered out to sea. Half a dozen yards away the surf pounded and hissed … the tide was up, and the breeze too. His torch, stuck in a cairn of pebbles, flickered so wildly he feared it would blow out. Away from its light, some distance behind him, Captain Niles and his soldiers huddled in a tight group. They had waited for more than an hour already, and though he could neither see nor hear them he sensed their restlessness. In fact he was uncomfortable about their presence: on taking the news to Niles earlier that night, he'd found the man somewhat cool in his response, though willing to honour his promise. Try as he might, Marbeck was forced to the grim conclusion that, whatever happened on Chesil Beach, he might be thrown upon his own resources.

Pushing the thought aside, once again he went over the procedure they had agreed. When Swann's boat appeared, Marbeck would show himself and hail them. Having made certain that only the two men, father and son, were present, he would draw them to the torch to show the document he and Woollard had prepared. Since he half-expected that the Swanns would spring some trap of their own, he would be ready for the worst. But at his signal Niles would close in with one of his soldiers, while the other two skirted around behind. Trouble might arise if, for caution's sake, Swann brought more men with him – in which case, Niles had made clear, his priority was the well-being of his own people: he was unwilling to engage in a pitched battle in the dark.

With the breeze in his face, Marbeck's eyes swept the great expanse of water. Out at sea, he could make out the distant light of a vessel riding at anchor. It had been there as long as he had, but whether it was Swann's ship or another he didn't know. Nor, not being a seaman, did he know whether the man had had time enough to sail his vessel round Portland Bill to its western side. Not that it mattered, for the choice of Chesil Beach had been Swann's – and Marbeck was determined to make him a prisoner. He also cherished a notion that, if held at the Crown's pleasure, Swann might be used as a bargaining tool to force Reuben Beck to talk terms. Here on a wild beach in the dark, however, that possibility seemed remote. A man like Beck would simply weigh anchor and sail away, leaving the other Sea Locust to his fate. Yet Marbeck's abiding hope was that with Swann forced to testify, Sir Edward Quiney might face justice … In fact, he realized, just now he cared more about that than about anything else.