Element of chance, p.47
Element of Chance, page 47
‘I cannot believe that given your position and the intelligence you receive you had no knowledge of Bessborough’s actions.’
‘You’ll be saying I was his accomplice next.’
‘No, Dillon. The admiral did everything in his power, even before I was curious, to point me towards you.’
‘Then I can only be pleased that you didn’t fall for it. Not that being innocent will avail me much now.’
‘Are you a member of the United Irishmen?’
‘What difference does it make, in King George’s domains, if I say yes or no? I’ll be damned by the mere accusation.’
‘I’m curious, Dillon. Why did you let him carry on? Was it that you didn’t care? Or did you think, perhaps, that when Bessborough had his share, you could then threaten him with exposure?’
Dillon smiled. ‘It’s supposed to be the Irish who’re good at making up stories, Captain Ludlow.’
‘Perhaps by satisfying my curiosity, Dillon, you’ll find your way out of here.’
The Irishman ran his fingers over his thinning ginger hair. ‘I think I have already.’
‘Don’t be so sure.’
‘But I am, Captain Ludlow. Part of my job here in Antigua is to know how other men think. You didn’t break in here just for the conversation. I suspect, in some way, my being locked up causes you embarrassment.’
The truth of that provoked what Harry considered a lame response. ‘No man should be damned for merely being Irish.’
‘Would that some of your fellow countrymen felt the same way, sir,’ said Dillon, standing up. Harry stood away from the open cell door, indicating he was free to go through. ‘Tell me, Captain Ludlow, what do you have in mind for the admiral?’
‘Come, Mr Dillon. I’m no more likely to incriminate myself than you.’
The Irishman looked him straight in the eye. ‘I dare say not. If your course takes you anywhere near St Eustatius, I’d be obliged to be dropped there. I’ve a mind to see my old friend, Conlon O’Dwyer.’
Bessborough was still unaware of anything being amiss when he heard the knock at the door. It startled him, certainly, since he’d made no arrangements for anyone to call by that route. But he was the commanding officer of His Britannic Majesty’s ships and vessels on the Leeward Island station and he had nothing to fear in his own quarters. He opened the door and looked out. On a dark night, with no one to be seen, it was a moment before he glanced down and saw the silken cloth. Even in the glim he recognised it as the naval flag of Bourbon France, the fleur-de-lis. He bent down, his eye fixing on the large needle that secured this standard around what was clearly a human frame.
The needle came out easily and the wrapping fell open to reveal the body of Antoine de la Mery. Handsome, even in death, his eyes were open, and seemed to stare straight at Bessborough. The admiral had seen too many corpses in his time to be shocked, and understood, as he closed those accusing eyes, that this was a message from Harry Ludlow. The note pinned to the white waistcoat would tell him in detail. He had to tug at it, since it seemed to be sewn on. But it came away eventually, with a slight tearing sound, and the waistcoat fell open. The flash of what looked like a bright metal rod caught his eye, just as the two teeth hit him in the neck. He leapt to his feet. But the fer de lance had sunk its fangs in his jugular vein and the spread of the venom in a major blood vessel was swift. Bessborough staggered back, kicking wildly at the reptile lest it bite him again. He could feel himself going numb and he opened his mouth to scream for help. But his throat was closed, already so swollen that it was beginning to choke off the supply of air. Suddenly the local Caribbean nickname for this snake came into his terrified mind. The slaves called it the three-minute man. Because, they said, that’s how long you had between the bite and the onset of death.
They found his body the following morning, lying on top of de la Mery. And in his hand he still had the note, which read: To Admiral Bessborough, from his good and faithful servant.
About the Author
JACK LUDLOW is the pen-name of writer David Donachie, who was born in Edinburgh in 1944. He has always had an abiding interest in history: from the Roman Republic to medieval warfare as well as the naval history of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, which he has drawn on for his many historical adventure novels. David lives in Deal with his partner, the novelist Sarah Grazebrook.
Copyright
Allison & Busby Limited
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First published in 1991.
This ebook edition published by Allison & Busby in 2015.
Copyright © 1991 by DAVID DONACHIE
The moral right of the author is hereby asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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 buyer.
ISBN 978–0–7490–1922–8
David Donachie, Element of Chance
