Andrew Swanston - The King's Exile

The second of Thomas’s daily meals came at six o’clock. When it arrived, Thomas said, ‘Looks like you’ll be enjoying yourselves tonight, Ned. Twelve women I counted.’

Ned grunted. ‘No use to me, sir. Long past it, I am. Caught the pox in Jamaica and lost interest years ago. It’s the bottle keeps me company now.’

‘The young men’ll have a good time, though. How long will the women stay?’

‘The boat’ll be back before the eight o’clock bell. That’s our orders.’

‘Do they visit all the ships?’

‘Must do. The sailors are bad enough but those Virginia farmers are worse. They expect a new woman every day.’ Farmers, not soldiers.

‘Do they now, Ned? Farmers, eh? Must be all those bulls they keep making them lusty.’ Ned laughed and left Thomas to his dinner.

Now Thomas knew the truth of the newly arrived fleet, he must get a message ashore, but how? He sat and thought.

When Ned returned for Thomas’s plate, he had decided that a risk must be taken. ‘It’s been lonely down here on my own, Ned, even with you for company,’ he said. ‘Could you find me one of the girls for half an hour?’

‘I don’t know about that, sir. I’d be in trouble if I was caught.’

‘A shame, Ned. Just what I need, a woman, especially if she has the Irish look about her. Red hair and green eyes are what I’ve always had a weakness for. Are there any like that, do you know?’

‘There might be, sir. I couldn’t rightly say.’

‘Could you take a look, Ned? There’ll be five sovereigns in it for you when I’m released.’

‘If you’re released, sir, as I hope you will be. Five sovereigns, eh? You must be lonely. I’ll see what I can do.’

‘Thank you, Ned. Don’t be too long, mind. I might fall asleep.’

Before long, Ned was back. ‘You’re in luck, sir. There’s one just as you like ’em. Young, too. She’s busy now, so I’ll bring her along when she’s free.’

An hour later, there was a knock on the cabin door and Ned ushered the woman in. ‘There you are, sir. Red hair and green eyes, as ordered. I’ll be back for her when the boat arrives.’

The woman stepped into the cabin. Her hand went to her mouth.

‘Don’t be frightened,’ he said gently. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Agatha.’ It was the first word she had spoken to him.

That was promising. ‘Agatha. It means good. Did you know that?’

‘No, sir, I didn’t. But I remember you, sir. You helped us. Are you wanting something in return?’

He smiled. ‘Not in the way you mean, Agatha. I’m glad to see you alive. And your mother?’

‘You knew she was my mother? Yes, sir, she’s alive. One of them is dead, though, thank the Lord. He was wounded. We made sure.’

‘So is the other. I killed him.’

She nodded. ‘Both dead. I thank God.’

‘There is one thing I would ask of you, Agatha. It won’t be easy and it might be dangerous. Before I tell you what it is, I must know if you will do it.’

She grinned. ‘It won’t be the first time I’ve done something dangerous. And but for you, sir, we might be dead. I’ll do it if I can.’

‘Good. First let me explain how I come to be here.’ While Thomas told his story, Agatha sat silently beside him and listened. She was no stranger to injustice so she believed him when he told her of his arrest and indenture and of his treatment by the Gibbes, of his escape and rescue and of the deaths of his friend Patrick and of the brutal Gibbes brothers. He paused in the telling. ‘Before I explain what I ask of you, have you any questions?’

‘No, sir. Though I’m sorry for the loss of your friend.’

Not just a cold-hearted whore, he thought, she must have heard it in my voice. A deep listener, just like the Ranters. ‘Thank you, Agatha. Now here’s the important part. I was promised my freedom and passage home in return for a service I provided and for acting as envoy from Lord Willoughby to Sir George Ayscue, who commands this fleet. As you can see, the plan hasn’t worked and here I am a prisoner. However, I do now have some information of great importance which I must get to Captain Charles Carrington, who is with Lord Willoughby’s army. Will you take it for me?’

‘Where will I find him, sir?’

‘First, Agatha, tell me that you will take the message.’

‘I will, sir, if I can.’

‘Good. The message is “Thomas Hill, on the Rainbow , says they are settlers from Virginia, not soldiers.”’

‘“Thomas Hill, on the Rainbow , says they are settlers from Virginia, not soldiers.” Who do I give it to, sir?’

‘Charles Carrington. Find Lord Willoughby’s army and you’ll find him. Ask around but do not give the message to anyone else. No one, Agatha.’

‘Charles Carrington. What if he doesn’t believe me? Will I be hanged?’

‘No, Agatha, you won’t be hanged. If Mr Carrington asks for proof, say “The Gibbes are dead.”’

‘“The Gibbes are dead.” I can remember that, sir.’

‘Good. Now repeat the message, please. It must be exactly as I have said.’

But before Agatha could repeat the message, there was a loud knock on the door. ‘It’s Ned, sir. The boat is here.’

‘Come in, Ned. All ready for you.’

‘That’s a relief, sir,’ said Ned, opening the door. ‘I was afraid you’d be half-cocked, if you know what I mean.’

‘Fully cocked, Ned, thank you. Here she is.’ With a quick smile, Agatha followed Ned up to the deck.

Thomas lay down and closed his eyes. It’s a slim chance, he thought. She has to find Carrington, she has to deliver the message accurately and she has to be believed. I wouldn’t put a guinea on it.

That night he lay awake, imagining how Agatha would go about her task or, indeed, if she would go about it at all. True, he had probably saved her life and her mother’s, but the prospect of making her way up the hill to Lord Willoughby’s lines, finding Charles Carrington and convincing him that the message was genuine might be too much for her. She might forget her debt and go home. Why would a whore do otherwise? If she did try, how would she persuade the sentries to let her past? The only way she knew how, he supposed. And if she did find Charles, would he see her and, if he did, would he believe her? If, if, if. Would that he could have thought of another way to send word.

Word from the longboats the next day was that battle had not yet commenced and that both sides were still sloshing about waiting for a break in the rain. Thomas could only sit in his tiny cabin and think about Agatha. Even if the girl had found Charles, which was a tall enough order, he would have been quite justified in thinking that under threat of torture Thomas had sent false intelligence and that the fleet really were reinforcements. Willoughby would then have no choice but to agree to Ayscue’s demands, Ayscue would be appointed governor and Rush would demand Thomas’s immediate execution as a spy.

And the message was not his only worry. As far as he knew the deception had not been discovered — he was being treated well enough — but the arrival of any one of the longboats might bring an order for his death. Even if the message went undetected, Ayscue had made his fate quite plain if he were revealed to be a spy and an indentured man pretending to be the governor’s secretary was certainly a spy. Thomas lay on his cot and listened to the rain.

After a long day with only a brief turn on the deck and an interminable night of worrying and wondering, Thomas was eating his breakfast when the young captain who had first received him on board knocked on his cabin door, entered without being invited to and read out the order. ‘Thomas Hill,’ he announced importantly, ‘this order commands me to have you taken at once to the Assembly House, where you are awaited.’