The moonless night, p.10
The Moonless Night, page 10
Some few moments later Sanford turned back to her. “I’ve heard enough lies about their gamecocks. How about you?”
“Yes,” she answered, looking with fascination to hear what outrage he would come up with next
“Good. I’ve been thinking with this game leg I could use my yacht. I think I’ll have it sent down from Portsmouth.”
“Would that not take a long time? How long do you plan to stay?”
“Till I’m kicked out. How long do you figure that will be?” he asked with a quizzing look. “Providing, of course, that I am silent on the subjects of French widows and winches and chains, and restrict myself to a litany of my artworks.”
“How long do you find people can usually stand you?” she asked. Even the oddest manner of conducting a conversation is eventually got on to, and she was coming to see that no formality was necessary with Sanford.
“Depends on their level of tolerance. I spent the years between my twenty-first and twenty-third birthdays with the Devonshires at Chatsworth. They were very tolerant, and so must their guests be. Then, till I was twenty-five I battened myself on the Somersets at Petworth. For the last five years I've shortened my visits to eighteen months. When my hostess is so sullen as the present one, however, she may expect with luck to be rid of me within the twelvemonth.”
A reluctant smile was forced from her. “You must admit you have not put yourself out an inch to be agreeable.”
“I have a feeling I might have dislocated myself a mile without much better results. Being agreeable to malicious females is no part of my plan, unless it should be necessary to bring you round my thumb to get your help.”
“I don’t wind easily. Would you not do better to seek the help of the gentlemen, Mr. Benson and David?”
“Probably, if they weren’t a jackdaw and a puppy—respectively, you understand. The whelp will grow into a too solid citizen, like his father. But I always find women more amenable, so shall concentrate on you, instead. We shall be taking a little trip tomorrow, you and I.”
“You can’t go anywhere with that sprained ankle!”
“I didn’t mean to infer we would walk, ma’am. And we shall take care to hide it from your aunt. I would prefer to get away without either posset or tree stump. My malacca will carry me. It is no prolonged voyage I plan to make in any case. I must get over to see Hazy.”
“My father will never allow me to go there!” she said at once, happy for such an unexceptionable excuse to refuse him.
“Your aunt tells me you are on terms with Mrs. Hazy. Yes, I have been busy buttering her up behind your back. She winds very nicely. There is a period in there between forty and fifty where a persistent gentleman can do anything with a spinster. Around the mid-fifties they become quite impossible.”
“Gentlemen become impossible some twenty-five years younger.”
“You are too sparing of the butter boat, ma’am. A little butter softens up the toughest old bird. Speaking of which reminds me of another point of interest. Tell me, as a resident hereabouts, what do you know of this Rawlins who seems to be the bigwig at the naval station during Keith’s absence? He is important, as it seems Keith means to stay aboard the Tonnant. Liaison between the Bellerophon and shore must be in his hands. Are they capable hands?”
“They have been known to tremble.”
“What does that mean?” he asked very sharply. The change from his former playful attitude was very marked.
“Oh—I have never heard his integrity questioned. I don’t mean to blacken his character. He is an older man, fifty or so, but not from the local area. He came here a few years ago and has kept pretty much to the station. The thing is—it was a demotion, you see. They say he drinks a little more than he should. Not a drunkard—he would not be long in his position in that case, but I have overheard the officers share a joke about him from time to time. I know several of them, meet them at the balls and so on.”
“I see,” he said, considering this with a look of concentration.
“Surely you don’t think the navy would be instrumental in helping Bonaparte escape!”
“I can give you a better answer after David takes us out in his yacht, to see at close range how things are handled aboard. If things are as Wingert told us, I don’t see how else it could be done. We’ll do that in the morning, and go to Hazy in the afternoon. I don’t plan to quite keep you from Mr. Benson all day long, you see. He will be with us on board, and in the evening I insist on entertaining David, to give you a full hour to bat your lashes at Benson.”
“I don’t bat my lashes at men,” she said, anger arising again at this contemptuous way of putting things.
“Have I been singled out for special marks of attention? I am honored, Miss Boltwood,” he said with a bow of his head.
“You certainly have not!”
“The draft from your fanning has nearly blown me from my chair. Such long lashes. And still she glares! That was a compliment, Miss Boltwood.”
She was on the verge of some extremely ill-natured remark when Biddy interrupted them to remind Lord Sanford he wanted to retire early with all those wounds, and she had a nice paregoric draught simmering for him, a little camphorated tincture of laudanum, with a drop of clove oil for taste.
“You see how she spoils me,” he said to Marie. “I have just been telling your niece, Miss Boltwood, how well you and I go on. Really, you are too kind to me, and I a virtual intruder, uninvited. With this sort of care I may lengthen my visit indefinitely.”
Biddy smiled fondly, at either the butter or the simmering draught. She was back within a minute carrying her brew. It was absurd to think of a grown man going to bed at eight-thirty, but Sanford submitted to the laudanum with a suspicious meekness, and drank it down. “That clove oil gives it a delightful taste. Could I have a little more?’
“Oh, laudanum is strong, Lord Sanford. You only want a touch of it, just a soother, not a real sleeping potion.”
“You shouldn’t make it taste so delicious,” he chided gently, while Marie fumed at his duplicity.
He said good night to everyone, complimented Biddy again on the excellent walking stick, and was trundled upstairs with the help of a stout footman. At last Marie could join David and Benson, just in time to hear her brother say, “Everett and I are going to rattle into town and see what’s afoot.”
He nipped upstairs to freshen his toilette before leaving, and Marie was at his heels. “Have you discovered if Mr. Benson is the spy?” she asked.
“Of course he is. He can’t say so because of the Admiralty wanting it kept secret, but it’s all we ever talk of, Everett and I. The real reason we are going into town is to supervise the putting aboard of those supplies. A chance for trouble there, though. Ev says likely Rawlins will have such a tight security no harm can come. We don’t want to set Rawlins’ back up, and will just watch it from the shadows. We must be there, just in case.”
“I wish I could go with you!”
“No place for a lady, my dear.”
“What else have you been doing?”
“I told him about the chest of gold, and we have been looking around for it. You might scour the house tonight while we’re busy at the quay. Ev says it is an excellent thing for me to learn the flag signals of the navy. He suggests I spend what time my other work allows at the telescope at Bolt’s Point, reading the flags.”
“That sounds very boring,” Marie pointed out.
“Aye, half of our work is of that routine nature, but it must be done. It’s not all shooting and fighting as an outsider might think. Ev has spent hours standing out in the rain on a dark night, just waiting to see if a certain person goes into a certain building, or what have you. But then there is no knowing when the case will break, so there’s an excitement even in the waiting.”
She told him about her trick on Lord Sanford at the cockfighting barn, and he had a crumb of praise for her. “It would help Ev and me if you could keep that mawworm occupied. Ev is not at all happy he is with us, and Papa will want me to taggle after him, as he is a lord. Ev didn’t say so, but I don’t think he trusts Sanford above half.”
“Sanford feels the winch and chain are dangerous, David, and I must confess he has half convinced me.”
“That’s just what I mean! Wanting to cut our chain, and it the best safeguard the coast has to keep Boney out.”
“Yes, but it could keep all the yachts in the harbor if it were raised at the wrong time.”
“It won’t be! Who would raise it? There’s no one here but us and the family servants—faithful as dogs, everyone of them. And of course Sinclair and some of the other yacht owners might be here, but to be thinking they would be for Bonaparte is nonsense. Ev feels it is our dock would be used for landing, right enough, and I agree. Nothing but sheer rock cliff between Plymouth and here. Sinclair’s dock another mile away. We’ll be his target right enough, and that chain must be on guard at all costs.”
“Well, I don’t believe Sanford wants it cut for any mischievous reason. He is just not too bright.”
“He’s a fool, and a danger to our whole proceeding. Trying to get that Frenchie, Monet, battened on us.”
“Everett dislikes the idea?”
“He can’t stand her, and feels she’s suspicious, too.”
“Sanford didn’t actually speak to Papa about inviting her.”
“Much good it would do him. With that bad leg of his, he won’t be able to do much harm, anyway.”
“He is going to see Hazy tomorrow.”
“Is he, by Jove! I wish I could tag along and hear what they have to say.”
“He asked me to go with him.”
“Good! Excellent—keep your ears cocked, and let me and Ev know what is said between them.”
“He mentioned I might visit with Mrs. Hazy. I don’t suppose I’ll be able to overhear him.”
“You must make a point of it. He seems a little sweet on you, Sis, and it would be a great help if you would jolly him along and see what you can worm out of him.”
“I don’t expect Father will let me go to see Hazy.”
“I’ll speak to him,” he told her, and could waste no more time on his sister when the master spy was awaiting him below. He was off, and Marie passed the next hour futilely searching the spare rooms for a chest of gold. At last fate had sent two gentlemen to them, and what did they do? One went scampering off with David, and the other to bed at eight-thirty at night. She was very little better off than when the family had been alone, and felt ill used, indeed.
Chapter 9
The morning dawned fair and clear, with a stiff but not dangerously strong breeze to give the party clear sailing. It was evident to Marie how Sanford had spent his evening when he came below with a handful of letters for posting. She offered to place them with her father’s outgoing mail.
As she went to his office, David nipped smartly out after her. “Let’s see who he’s writing to,” he said, thinking there might be some fuel for Benson here. He was eager to identify the enemy, and had found no one more likely than Sanford. He flipped through the envelopes—Portsmouth—that would be to have his yacht sent down. He mentioned that. Bathurst—his godfather, nothing in that. Paisley Park—his country seat, that would be estate business. “Look at this, Marie! Three letters to ladies.” Missives to such harmless dames and damsels as his great-aunt Theodora, Lady Gower, Lady Carmain and Miss Elizabeth Arnprior were each considered scrupulously for signs of intrigue. It was David’s opinion that one or the other of them was a code name for some treacherous French agent, but short of opening them up, he could not determine which ought to be confiscated, and when he mentioned it to Benson, he was told to let the letters go.
They went down to the dock, the descent difficult for Sanford, but he was helped by the other gentlemen. The Fury was in the water, her crew at their posts. She was a sleek, trim yacht with a crew of four, and spacious seating for guests. David instantly became a captain, using every nautical term at his command. With Sanford incapacitated and Benson apparently as inexpert a sailor as he had claimed, he had the show to himself. They drifted out past the harbor and tacked westward towards Plymouth. With a good breeze bellying the sails, they were not long in reaching the area that was densely cluttered with boats come to view Billy Ruffian.
They realized as they got close that the ship was more carefully guarded than they had thought. At the closer distance, it was observed that four naval barges stood guard, one on each side and another fore and aft. Guns were manned, and several glasses were trained on the hovering craft. A voice boomed out from a megaphone when David inadvertently invaded the forbidden one-hundred-yard limit, but they stayed as close as they were allowed. With the help of David’s hand telescope, they would be able to see even Boney’s bad teeth if he should decide to come on deck.
They remained for half an hour, bobbing up and down, while Benson, turning pale then green, suggested at five-minute intervals that they leave. “But he might come up on deck,” David reminded him.
“I would love to get a look at him,” Sanford added.
At last there was a stirring commotion on board Bellerophon. One could almost sense the tensing of the various men at their posts, see their heads turn as one to stare at something. It could only be the General. Marie held the glass, but with the naked eye Sanford saw a dark form, somewhat shorter than the two men who accompanied him, advance along the deck. He was visible only from the waist up. His gait was solemn, his head at a proud angle, and on it sat the familiar tri-corne hat, its sole ornament a red, white and blue cockade.
“It’s him!” Marie breathed ecstatically. Wordlessly, Sanford removed the glass from her fingers, his own trembling with excitement, she noticed.
He raised the glass and adjusted it. Held in sharp focus was a face, familiar from pictures, yet totally unfamiliar. It was human, and it was sad. Also it was pale; the man was not well. Thin, dark straggly hair was brushed forward, and the eyes were two dark holes. There were deep lines from nose to mouth, a square jaw and a sagging chin. Sanford lowered the glass to see his uniform. It was dark green, rather plainer than one would expect, adorned with thin red piping, gold epaulettes and buttons. There was a ribbon across his chest, the Legion of Honor, and three small medals of some sort.
As he looked, Napoleon turned aside, giving a view of his profile—double chins, nose slightly hooked. His hand went up—he seemed to be taking snuff. He sniffed in, but did not sneeze. At Tor Bay the crowd had doffed their hats; here there was total silence. It was a respectful silence, as though the throng knew they were in the presence of someone whose equal they were unlikely to see again.
Sanford felt a hand on his sleeve, and saw David’s hand reaching for the telescope. Regretfully, he gave it over. All around on the water there was a dead, staring silence. Unconsciously, Sanford removed his hat. A few onlookers did the same. Marie felt a warm tear start in her eye and pulled out her handkerchief, but on an impulse she waved it instead. The General noticed the flutter of white, lifted his hat and bowed in her direction. She felt as if she had been singled out for a special honor. David was smiling fatuously, and she preferred not to glance at Mr. Benson. “Let’s go. We’ve seen him,” she said, blinking away the telltale tear.
“He looks very pale,” Sanford remarked, and retrieved the telescope for a last look.
“He’d be better off dead than locked up like an animal, with everyone staring at him,” Marie said, angrily.
“I doubt if he thinks so,” Sanford replied.
As they spoke, the General turned his eyes from the crowd all around to look across the water to France. There was defeat in the line of his shoulders.
“Damme, he can’t be let go free,” David said, yet in his own heart he was saddened to see the eagle chained. Felt an inexplicable urge to change sides. “If it was death he wanted, he could have gone back to Paris. Louis would have been happy enough to oblige him.”
“Please take us away, David,” Marie urged. David shouted to the crew, and they left.
“I’ll show you the other possible landing spots I mentioned, Ev,” David said. He pointed out Wetherington’s, Sinclair’s and a few others, but for the most part the coast was cliff. Then it was back towards Bolt Hall.
“I don’t see any chance of Bonaparte getting off that ship,” Sanford remarked. “As guarded as a virgin queen, it would take a man of war and a pitched sea battle.”
“A sudden leap overboard is his only bet,” Benson agreed. “In his poor health, I don’t think that likely either. He’d never make it to shore. They’d lower boats and go after him. I begin to think it is all a tempest in a teapot, people discussing a rescue attempt. He is safe as a bird in a cage.”
Rapidly recovering from his momentary switch of allegiance, David found this line of talk highly unappetizing. “A masquerade at night might work,” he decided, wishing he could communicate this intelligence to the General. “One of the seamen rigged up in his uniform and wearing his hat—in the dark of night, who’d know the difference? While the masquerader struts around the deck, luring all the watchmen to one side, the real Boney slips quietly over the other. His best bet, easily.”
Sanford frowned, realizing that there was a possibility of success in such a scheme. “Don’t mention that to anyone!” he exclaimed. “Lord—what a dangerous idea! It wouldn’t be impossible at all. You’re a menace, David Boltwood.”
David flushed with pleasure at this high compliment, and looked to Benson for further praise. Benson was already edging to the side of the yacht, preparing for the onslaught of nausea that he felt inevitable. It was a blow for David to see his master spy was actually as unseaworthy as he claimed.
“It sounds entirely feasible,” Marie added, smiling that it had once again become possible for Bonaparte to escape, and therefore have to be caught. She too was recovering from her bout of pity.
