Blown Off Course Read online

  Two tankards of porter added to the metheglin had tended to soften John Pearce’s natural modesty, so there was just a trace of swank in the way he replied. ‘Have you heard of a French capture called the Valmy?’

  ‘Who has not, it had the church bells peeling,’ Winston said, before keenly looking at Pearce. ‘Was you the fellow who took her?’

  ‘I played a small part in her capture, yes, and it was much exaggerated in the telling.’

  ‘Yet profitable, I imagine.’

  ‘No. I was dunned out of my true share of the proceeds, getting pennies not pounds, but my actions impressed Farmer George: the old booby insisted I be given promotion from midshipman to lieutenant.’ Pearce took a deep swallow. ‘Wasted, I might add, since I have no intention of any further service to him or his damned navy.’

  ‘I don’t follow.’

  ‘I would not accept another commission, sir, though I am forced to admit there is no great queue waiting to grant me one.’

  ‘The navy presents great opportunities in war, sir.’

  ‘That may be true, Mr Winston, but not for me.’

  ‘Then I am forced to enquire, sir, what occupation will you follow?’

  ‘That is yet to be decided. My main concern at present, protections secured, is to find a means to bring the aforementioned Captain Barclay before a court.’

  ‘If it is for illegal impressment, sir, you will struggle, for the tars are good at minding their own. A seaman was killed not six months past in the Thames Estuary by a boarding party intent on pressing seamen. Yet, with the Admiralty fielding its full power in the court, the lieutenant in charge was acquitted even of manslaughter, when he was clearly guilty of murder, he having given the order to fire the muskets, admittedly in reply to one being set off from the ship.’

  ‘I have a possibility of getting him met with a charge of perjury.’

  ‘Perjury, by damn! Do I detect the beginning of another tale, sir?’

  Pearce smiled. ‘I think, sir, I have assailed your patience enough.’

  Winston signalled to the serving girl. ‘Another will do no harm and it is my turn to provide it.’

  And neither did it harm him as Pearce recounted the details of the travesty of Barclay’s court martial, of how he and the true witnesses had been sidelined. He went on to explain the need for evidence – declining to say the pure, unvarnished proof was lost because of a fire at sea.

  Winston was quick to allude to the expense. ‘There is not a lawyer in creation, sir, who will not rub his hands at such a brief, for deep pockets will be needed and they are masters at the stripping out of wealth from their clients.’

  ‘True,’ Pearce replied, draining his ale. ‘But if I can get a certain midshipman back from service in the Mediterranean – the aforementioned Burns, who was most avowedly not, as he claimed, there on the night I was pressed – I will have Ralph Barclay regardless. Now, I must finish my drink and be on my way, sir.’

  ‘Before you depart, Lieutenant Pearce—’

  ‘I think Mr Pearce might suffice from the morrow, for once I have collected from the Admiralty the protections for my friends I may discard this blue coat for ever.’

  ‘Yet you have experience of being at sea.’

  Pearce laughed, an act made more hearty by the consumption of porter. ‘Not a great deal, sir.’

  ‘From your own lips you have admitted to commanding a vessel. What I mean to say, sir, is my line of business occasionally includes the need to ship goods by sea, mostly in the coastal trade, and I must tell you the war with France makes more difficult what was never easy. In short, finding reliable people who will do what I need done and properly.’

  ‘It is very kind of you, Mr Winston, but I shall be wholly occupied for some time in getting Captain Barclay into a court of law.’

  ‘Nevertheless, you must, I suspect, find some form of employment in the future.’ Winston reached inside his coat and produced a small rectangular card. ‘Upon this, sir, are my details, where I can be found, though I would add I am generally there only in the mornings. Should your needs, not least the lawyer’s fees, require you to seek out a way to make your way, then let your feet direct you to my door, where you will be most welcome.’

  ‘That is most obliging of you, Mr Winston, but I am not without means. I am off to see the fellow who represents me in the article of prizes, where I will discover how I am found in the nature of funds. That is one measure of how soon I can proceed with the matter Barclay.’

  ‘You took prizes?’ Winston asked, with a slight air of disappointment.

  ‘I was most fortunate in that regard, yes. One in the Mediterranean and another on the way home.’

  ‘Valuable, I suspect, this time?’

  ‘If all is well I should be able to easily sustain my own needs and perhaps have enough to bring my case.’

  Winston nodded slowly, then seemed to recover both himself and his winning smile. ‘Then it only remains for me to wish you well, sir.’

  ‘Perhaps we will meet again.’

  ‘Perhaps, Mr Pearce.’

  The offices of Alexander Davidson were in Harpur Street, on the opposite side of Holborn to the lawyers’ chambers of Gray’s Inn. He was a man who lived above the shop, his home being on the upper floors of what was a narrow but handsome town house, thus the lateness of the hour – it was dark by the time John Pearce called – had no bearing. He had met Davidson before and that had been an unhappy occasion, one in which he had found the prize agent, representing his one-time commanding officer, to be a fount of unwelcome news. But his exploits in the Mediterranean had brought him a prize ship, a French sloop by the name of Mariette, subsequently bought into the service by Lord Hood and renamed. In need of someone to contract his business, he had sent written instructions to the only man whose name he knew to see to the distribution for both himself and the crew he had led.

  ‘Mr Pearce, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,’ said Davidson, as Pearce entered his office, the greeting followed by a quizzical look. ‘But I have the feeling, a strong one, we have met before, sir.’

  There was silence then, as Davidson tried to place him. Pearce had come here just after his elevation to get his share of the capture of the French seventy-four, the story of which he had just been relating to Winston: he had departed with a lot less than he hoped.

  ‘We have Mr Davidson. I came to see you about monies from the Valmy.’

  ‘Sir, I place you now,’ the man responded, clearly surprised. ‘I cannot feel that our previous encounter endeared me to you.’

  ‘You act as a prize agent do you not?’

  ‘For several naval officers, yes.’

  ‘And I take it your actions were not motivated by personal animus in denying me my rightful share of the capture.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then might I ask how matters proceed in that case, since my entire claim is not settled?’

  Davidson sighed. ‘The Valmy is locked in the courts, sir, with the legal wolves of Gray’s Inn, not more than a stone’s throw from where we sit, feeding heartily at the trough of both parties, for, bought into the service at twelve pounds a ton, with both gun and head money, she was a valuable prize. Neither of the litigants will give way and reconcile, and I fear if they do not have a care there will be little of value left to settle on.’

  ‘Then I can only wish them both damnation, sir, but today I have come to see how I stand regarding the vessel I took in Corsica.’

  ‘You did not receive my letter regarding that?’ Davidson was a good-looking man, in his early thirties, sandy-haired and with lively, open features. Now the countenance had about it an air of foreboding, and since Pearce did not respond, his face merely closing up, he was forced to continue. ‘I fear you will find yourself in the same boat, with the widow of Captain Benton.’

  ‘Go on,’ Pearce responded, his heart sinking.

  ‘She has laid a claim to the captain’s share, given her husband was in command when the acti
on commenced. Let me say, Mr Pearce, that she has no choice but to proceed, being in straightened circumstances.’

  Pearce was about to allude to the year’s pay, which would come her way by right as a serving officer’s widow, added to what had been realised by the sale of Benton’s possessions – admittedly not much after the purser’s twenty per cent emolument – but he checked himself. Benton might have been master and commander but his pay was that of a lieutenant, ninety-one pounds in a calendar year, and that was not great, added to which he had no idea of dependants.

  ‘Which means?’ he asked.

  ‘That she will pursue the case to the bitter end, sir, for she has nothing to lose.’

  ‘So what would you suggest I do?’

  ‘A settlement, which is what I proposed in my letter to you: share the windfall with the lady on an equal basis and I think she will be content.’ Davidson paused then, slightly embarrassed. ‘You do, of course, have the right to seek advice elsewhere. I am aware that I seem to be disappointing you for a second time.’

  Pearce looked away from Davidson then, his eyes scanning the portrait-covered walls and his mind ranging over the matter. Others were involved, the crew of HMS Weazel who took part in the action, but they would not be affected by any decision he made, and while he was thinking on that Davidson was still talking.

  ‘Naturally we are talking only of the captain’s two-eighths, which would not affect your eighth as the sole lieutenant on the vessel, so you would emerge as the superior beneficiary, giving you, if my memory is correct, some five hundred and eighty-one pounds less my fees of twelve per cent and a modicum of expenses. Then, of course, there are the prize court costs.’

  ‘You can quote such figures from memory?’ asked Pearce, far from amused.

  ‘God has granted me a head for figures,’ Davidson replied.

  Pearce looked over his head to where a charcoal sketch sat on the wall, a full-length study of a young officer, in a lieutenant’s uniform, and the face was familiar.

  ‘Is that Captain Nelson?’

  Davidson brightened, as if relieved at the subject moving to one less contentious, and turned to look at the same sketch. ‘Being some seventeen years old at the time he was no captain, Mr Pearce, as his garb will tell you. It was a preliminary drawing made prior to a portrait executed by the artist Rigaud, who was good enough to sell it to me. The actual painting went to his old mentor, Captain William Locker, at present the Governor of Greenwich Hospital.’

  ‘And you have it on your wall?’

  ‘I am happy to say that Horatio is not only a client, but also a close friend of long standing, one I have represented for many a year. If anything, I pursue the profession of prize agent due to him, given I was in the general Canada trade prior to this.’ Davidson gave a look of realisation, before adding, ‘But, of course, you would have encountered Captain Nelson in your recent service.’

  ‘On more than one occasion.’

  ‘He is an honest fellow, Horatio, and a damned fine sailor.’

  Pearce had to stop himself from saying that his acquaintance was slight and also that Horatio Nelson was an absolute booby at times, excessively light-headed in the article of drink and damned silly when it came to the opposite sex, a fellow who caused much anxiety in the breasts of his junior officers, which Pearce had witnessed at a ball in Leghorn. It said much for the man that those same junior officers cared enough to shield him from his own folly, whatever his qualities of command and seamanship.

  ‘I found him so,’ was what Pearce actually replied, which was nothing but the truth, for there was an endearing openness about the man to modify his faults. He was thinking that, if this Davidson was trusted by the likes of Nelson, he too was probably honest, if anyone could be said to be that in the modern world, which was important, given he was about to mention another commission.

  ‘What would another prize agent tell me, Mr Davidson, in such circumstances, that you would not?’

  ‘Lieutenant Pearce, there are upright fellows in this game, but there are as many rogues in the profession as there are in others. It is not unknown for one of my stripe to make more in douceurs from interested lawyers than they would ever make from a client.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘They would advise you to fight a case you may well not win from what they would gain by the back door – an agreed percentage of the lawyer’s fees. I am happy to recommend another prize agent, but if he is honest he will give you the same advice as I have proffered. I might also add, Mrs Benton has a particularly avaricious counsel and even what I have proposed may not go smoothly.’

  That was telling: you did not have to serve in the navy very long to hear the stories of prize case disputes dragging on for a decade and more, pride as often the driving force of the argument as mere coin. He needed money and he needed it soon to pursue Ralph Barclay: it would appear best to settle.

  ‘Mr Davidson, I will take your advice on the Mariette and also advise you that on my return to Portsmouth I brought in another prize, a merchant vessel, the Guiscard.’ Pearce reached into a pocket and pulled out a paper showing the details of the tonnage as well as the names of the men he had had with him when he came across her, who would be entitled to a share. ‘The details are listed on this. She is at present in Portsmouth being valued, but it is only the hull, there was no cargo, no crew for head money and not even a signal cannon.’

  ‘An unusual capture, sir, I must say. Legitimate prize?’

  ‘Undoubtedly so.’

  ‘Any other king’s ship in sight?’ Pearce shook his head, acknowledging there could be no other claimants. ‘You seem to be a lucky officer, sir.’

  ‘If you knew the means by which we came upon her and what we found aboard you would not say so.’

  ‘Would an enquiry be unwelcome?’

  Having spent too much time talking to Winston and relating his adventures, Pearce had no desire to recommence now. ‘Another time, Mr Davidson, perhaps, given I have another call to make. I take it all is in order for you to proceed?’

  Looking at the paper before him Davidson nodded. ‘I will send to Portsmouth immediately advising them of my interest.’

  ‘Can I ask if you satisfied matters at Nerot’s Hotel?’

  Pearce, on his last sojourn in London, had been obliged to depart that particular establishment in some haste, being bereft of the funds needed to satisfy a bill that included not only his room and food but the uniforms he had ordered made as well. Part of his instructions on appointing the man before him had been to deal with the outstanding bill.

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Good. Could I ask you to send a message to them to say I wish to occupy a room tonight?’

  ‘Of course, sir, and will you require an advance on your funds?’

  ‘Fifty guineas?’ Pearce enquired tentatively, knowing the protections would eat off a slice of that, adding, ‘I anticipate some immediate expenses.’

  ‘Most certainly, Lieutenant Pearce,’ Davidson replied with a confident air, standing and producing from his waistcoat a chain on which was a hefty key. ‘Once the matter is settled I will remit the balance to your bank.’

  ‘Mr Davidson, I do not have a bank.’

  ‘Never mind,’ the man replied gaily. ‘I am happy to recommend Baring Brothers as a sound repository of your monies.’

  Pearce and Ralph Barclay were not shadowing each other, but the post captain was likewise with his prize agents, sitting in the opulent offices of Ommanny & Druce overlooking the Strand, nursing a fine crystal glass which contained within it a very superior Burgundy wine, this while the two partners of the well-established practice quite openly flattered him. Barclay could not but contrast their behaviour with his last call at these premises, when, at the outbreak of the present war, he had been newly appointed to his frigate after five years on the beach. Half-pay and the mere expenses of living – not least in the caring for his clutch of sisters and the acquisition of a new bride – had left him seriousl
y short of the monies he needed to fulfil his duties.

  The reluctance of this pair to advance him any on his prospects had forced him to pay the high rates of a City moneylender, but what had hurt more than their parsimony had been their disdain – they had treated him like a beggar – which was the precise opposite of their present behaviour, for Ralph Barclay was now a man of substantial means, having taken a fully laden merchant vessel in the Levant trade from under the nose of a Barbary pirate, his two-eighths of that capture alone exceeding ten thousand pounds.

  There was another, even more valuable Indiaman locked in a dispute between whether it was a prize or salvage, which if it came in as the former, would more than double his gains: he had been sailing under Admiralty orders and was thus entitled to three-eighths. Added to that, his interview with Gardner had gone well – the admiral was well disposed, in any case. The name of the Duke of Portland was of inestimable value too, an ounce of interest, as the old saying went, being worth a ton of ability, and this pair had heard that his prospects were excellent. If there was a fly in the ointment of his pleasure it was that Samuel Hood, as his commanding admiral for the Levant vessel, would get an eighth of the value of that; also, that the Gibraltar Prize Court, into which his claim had been submitted, was home to the most rapacious adjudicator on the planet.

  ‘Admiral Gardner did not name a vessel, Captain Barclay?’ asked Ommanny, looking as prosperous and self-satisfied as Barclay remembered him. He was a man with a belly and rubicund face that spoke of long indulgence in the good things in life.

  The reply followed a draining of his wine. ‘No, but he assured me that my claim for a command was high on his list, and would be met as soon as I was fit enough to go back to sea. I have high hopes of a seventy-four, HMS Semele, at present refitting at Chatham.’

  That was followed by a keen look to observe what these men knew and the nods told Ralph Barclay that his connection to the Duke of Portland, if it could be called that to one of the most supercilious, condescending bastards he had ever met in his life, was well known within these walls. They would also know that HMS Semele was near-ready for sea. Before him was a pair who sniffed gossip as a hunting hound sniffs spoor, picking up rumours as much as hard fact as an aid to their business activities, which went well beyond merely acting as prize agents to some of the most successful sailors in the fleet.