Susanna Gregory - The Piccadilly Plot

‘There is something odd about Jane ’s trim,’ said Lester, pausing halfway up the plank to study her. Chaloner grabbed his arm and pulled him on, horrified that he should dawdle when they might be being watched. ‘She is strangely heavy in the bows.’

‘Perhaps only the back half of her has been unloaded.’

Lester smirked at this lack of nautical knowledge. ‘It is more likely that she is taking on water.’

‘The Adventurers will be pleased, then,’ said Chaloner, squeezing through the gunport. ‘If she sinks, they will not have to worry about burning her.’

Once on board, he paused to gain his bearings. Katherine was rich with the scent of new wood and tar, and he was immediately aware of the rhythmic creak of her timbers as she rocked on the ebbing tide. The guests were in the stern, and there was already a lot of noise — the clink of goblets, the plummy laughter of men who were well pleased with themselves, and the banter of lively conversation. Lester caught Chaloner’s arm.

‘They will be in the Great Cabin — that is the big room at the other end of the ship. It is the only space large enough for a party their size. Go there, and see what is happening.’

‘Where will you be?’

‘Looking at the rest of the vessel to see whether there is anything unusual. You will appreciate that I am better qualified to do it than you.’

Chaloner felt a twinge of misgiving, but nodded anyway. His unease intensified as he travelled the whole length of Katherine without encountering another person. Surely there should be servants present, managing matters behind the scenes as their masters socialised? Men to broach casks of wine, or prepare refreshments? Or sailors to ensure that ignorant landsmen did not tamper with something that might later cause problems at sea?

He reached the Great Cabin and peered around the door, expecting at any moment to be grabbed and an explanation demanded for his presence. Inside, the Adventurers were enjoying themselves. Leighton was serving rum — familiar to sailors, but still a rarity in London — from a large barrel in the centre of the room, and although there were winces at the taste, all were willing to endure it for the sake of novelty.

There was an atmosphere of jollity, which intensified when O’Brien picked up a fiddle that had been left lying artistically on a chest and began to play a medley of sea-jigs. A few people started to sing, while others spoke more loudly to make themselves heard. Drink was spilled as sloppy toasts were made, and the reek of it was strong in the crowded room.

Not everyone had given themselves over to rowdy entertainment, however. Dugdale and Edgeman stood near the door, their faces taut and expectant. Were they waiting for something to happen, or were they just uneasy after the Earl’s earlier words about dismissing members of his staff who were Adventurers? Grey was another who seemed ill at ease, and so was Swaddell, while Brodrick was clutching his stomach, claiming he was seasick.

Chaloner was about to leave when Dugdale happened to glance in his direction. Their eyes locked. The Chief Usher opened his mouth and an accusatory finger started to rise. Chaloner did not wait to find out whether anyone would be interested to hear that interlopers were aboard. He turned and ran back the way he had come. There were raised voices behind him, but he could not tell whether they were simply those of men — and women — made boisterous by the consumption of strong drink, or whether some sort of chase was in progress.

Unwilling to be ejected before he had learned anything useful, Chaloner aimed for the lower decks, sliding down three ladders in the hope that any pursuers would assume he had aimed for the gangway, and would not expect him to move deeper inside the ship. When he was sure the ruse had worked, he began to walk forward, intending to find a different set of steps to take him back to the Great Cabin’s level.

He was surprised to see lamps had been left burning at regular intervals, and wondered whether Leighton planned to open the entire vessel to the Adventurers later — and whether they would treat it with the same careless abandon that they treated Temperance’s club. Regardless, it was risky to leave unattended flames in a structure that was made of wood.

He whipped around suddenly when he heard a click behind him. It was Lester, and he was holding a gun.

‘That is far enough,’ the captain said softly. ‘It is time this matter was ended.’

Chaloner gaped at the dag that Lester held. Then he saw it was not pointing at him, but at someone hiding in the shadows behind him. He turned to see Fitzgerald. The pirate stepped into the circle of light cast by the lamp, moving with a haughty confidence that immediately set alarm bells ringing in Chaloner’s mind. Before he could draw his own weapons or shout a warning to Lester, Brinkes and his henchmen emerged from the darkness, too. All carried guns and daggers.

Undeterred, Lester took aim at Fitzgerald, intending to shoot him anyway, but ducked when a knife hurtled towards him. It missed by the merest fraction, and the gun flashed in the pan. Without waiting to see what happened to Lester, Chaloner hauled his sword from its scabbard and launched himself at Brinkes, hoping the speed of his attack would catch the henchman off guard.

But Brinkes was no novice in the art of skirmishing. He feinted away and brought his gun down hard on Chaloner’s wrist, forcing him to drop the blade. Chaloner was reaching for his knife before the sword hit the floor, but the others also reacted with commendable speed, and it was not long before he was overwhelmed. Powerful hands grabbed him, and when he finally stopped struggling, he saw that Lester had been similarly secured.

‘Do not bother to shout for help,’ said Brinkes, his face bright with the prospect of violence to come. ‘You will not be heard, not above the racket the Adventurers are making.’

‘Hold them tight,’ ordered Fitzgerald in his piping treble. His single eye glittered. ‘We do not want them to interfere with our plans.’

‘What plans?’ demanded Lester.

‘I am not inclined to discuss them with you,’ replied Fitzgerald coldly.

Although it was not the first time Chaloner had been in the pirate’s presence, it was the first time he had seen him commanding troops. Fitzgerald’s manner was calm and self-assured, and the men he had hired were professionals who followed his orders unthinkingly. With a growing sense of alarm, Chaloner finally began to understand why Thurloe considered him such a formidable adversary.

Footsteps caused everyone to glance towards the stairs. It was Harley, whose eyebrows shot up in surprise when he saw that prisoners had been taken.

‘The man who has been asking questions,’ he said, regarding Chaloner with contempt. ‘You have been a nuisance ever since you realised the Piccadilly Company might make you rich.’

‘Will it?’ asked Chaloner innocently. ‘How?’

Harley sneered at him. ‘I am no more inclined to answer questions now than I was a week ago.’

‘Then let me answer them,’ said Chaloner quickly, when Harley nodded to Brinkes, who cocked his pistol and aimed it at Lester. ‘You want the Queen discredited, so Tangier will return to Portugal — away from the hands of the Adventurers. You have a sympathetic governor in Bridges, but he is greedy and demands too much-’

‘Enough,’ snapped Harley. ‘Shoot them, Brinkes. We do not have time to deal with captives, and these two are too dangerous to leave alive.’

‘No!’ countered Fitzgerald, as Brinkes prepared to obey. ‘Their yells may not carry, but gunshots will, and we do not want any alarms. I know how to dispose of them with no risk to ourselves.’