John Schettler - Devil's Garden

Thomas was again thrown in to confusion. “It won’t be restored for many years? Whatever do you mean, sir?”

“Not now, Mister Thomas. I’ll explain it all when we’re safely out to sea.”

Thomas knew enough not to press on the matter, so he labored along with the luggage as the Duke led the way. They worked their way down to the edge of the sea near the lime kilns where they saw two old boats overturned on the stony shore and tied off to a rusted metal ring anchored to the ground.

“This one looks to be in better shape. Let’s get it tipped over and then we’ll ease it to the water’s edge.”

They heaved the boat up, the wood heavy with damp moisture of a recent rain. Wooden oars wrapped in a heavy tarp were tucked away underneath. Once they had it right side up the two men pushed from the stern and slid it along over the smooth wet gravel of the shore. Thomas heaved in the two bags and then fetched the oars, pushing the boat until its bow was well floated on the listless surf.

“I see you’ve a good pair of boots there, Mister Thomas. Those will work out well. Let’s have another shove and then I think we can ease it out with the two oars.”

“Very good, sir.”

In time they were both on the boat, settling in on the broad wood bench and fastening their oars to begin rowing. “I’ll have you know that I was in the thick of it with Regatta racing on the Thames at one point, Mister Thomas. Why, I’ve launched at three in the morning near the Horseferry on the Thames and rowed to Sunbury for breakfast at half past seven. Then it was on again until lunch at the London Stairs above Staines. After that I pushed right on through Windsor Bridge by two in the afternoon to Eaton. I haven’t the strength of a twenty year old any longer, but I prepared for this sojourn with a daily workout for the last six months and I’m fit as a fiddle. We’ll have to be quick about it, as I mean to take the South Low over the mudflats rather than going all the way round the seaward side of the island. Fortunately the tide is still well up. I think we’ll make it well enough.”

They rowed for some time, a long pull for nearly ten miles up the coast to Berwick upon the River Tweed, and there they saw the outlines of a large sailing ship, with two prominent masts lying at anchor off the mouth of the river.

Thomas was grateful that they seemed near the end of the long haul, but understandably perplexed. The Duke had hinted he might soon get his wish and ride in a sailing ship, and here it was!

“May I present to you the Brigantine Ann , Mister Thomas. She’s a British merchantman, as you can see, the sails nicely squared off on both the fore and main masts. My, My, her rigging and cordage look to be in very good shape. I’ll bet she’s grand when all those sails get unfurled and into the eye of the wind.”

“Amazing, sir.”

“Quite so. Well… I promised to fill you in on the details of our situation, and I suppose I had better do so before we make our final approach. You may find this somewhat awkward at first, Mister Thomas, but I had my eye on you for some time and selected you precisely because I believed you had the character and daring to fill the bill.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“A great deal may be asked of you on this little adventure. At first you may feel quite out of place, but the situation will grow on you in time…Yes, in time…”

The Duke looked over at Thomas, noting the confused expression that crossed his face and then a wry smile taking its place. “Oh… I understand now, sir. A nicely made adventure, just as you hinted. I had no idea there would be a tall ship on the coast this week, but it will make a grand play in any case.”

“Yes, well I’m afraid we are not playing at this adventure, Mister Thomas. It would take a good deal of time to explain it all to you, but if you’ll just ease into the thought that we are entirely somewhere else at the moment, and let me do most of the talking when we board that ship there, I think the situation will grow on you soon enough.”

Thomas raised his eyebrows, yet was not surprised by this development. He had worked with many noble and wealthy men over the years and was much acquainted with their eccentricities. Sir Roger Ames was no different from many he had come to know. They collected oddities like the ashes of great men before them pressed into gemstones, and they moved in arcane circles of which he hadn’t the slightest notion. He was only glad to have been taken under the wing of the Duke, and decided he would certainly not be one to spoil the party here. He would play along and indulge the man. This was to be his grand fantasy, a little safari on a sailing ship and then off to parts unknown. Well enough. He was ripe for an adventure, and something told him this would be a very nice change of pace. It certainly beat digging tunnels beneath graveyards. A jaunt on that ship seemed most appealing.

“Ahoy!” the Duke raised an arm as they approached the brig.

“Who goes there?” came a throaty voice from the gunwale.

“You may announce me as Sir Roger Ames, Mister Thomas, but make no mention whatsoever of my title as Duke. Address me as Mister Ames, if you will, from this point forward. There was no Peer of the Realm in Elvington until I was appointed, and these gentlemen will not recognize any Dukedom established there. Simply tell them I seek passage on this ship, and a conference with their Captain Cameron.”

Thomas nodded and cupped his mouth to project his strong voice. “His Grace Sir Roger Ames, seeks passage and lodgment aboard, if you please. Can your Captain Cameron receive him straightway?”

“His Grace?” came the voice out of the mist again, and they could hear hobnailed boots moving on the wooden deck. “Very well, come abaft. There’s a good rope ladder astern.”

“No need for the honorifics,” the Duke cajoled. “Mister Ames will do in most cases. You may use the prefix ‘sir’ if you wish. It was as much a simple politeness as anything else these days, and did not necessarily indicate knighthood.”

“Sorry, sir. Long habits I suppose. I’ll be more mindful.”

The slip made by Thomas had actually worked to their advantage, for when the Boatswain heard it he thought the better of sending these two unexpected sea vagrants on their way. Instead he sent word to the Captain that a gentleman had come calling, and asked for him by name. Yet the Duke, thinking that loose lips sink ships, decided to reinforce his point with Thomas.

“When mixing with the men on this ship I would advise you to be rather mute, Mister Thomas. There should be no mention of current events, news, and certainly no babbling about with anything to do with our ridiculous pop culture. In fact, it might be best that you remain dutifully seen, but seldom heard, if you follow my meaning. Please don’t take offense, but beginnings are delicate matters and I should like to set the tone here.”

“I understand, sir. No offense taken.”

They maneuvered the boat, shipping oars when they came alongside with a gentle bump. Thomas tied off the boat and then took a firm hold on the ladder. “Shall I go up first, sir? I’ll get some men to fetch the luggage.”

“Well enough.”

The Duke stood up, rolling his weary shoulders. In spite of his daily regimen, the long haul was a bit taxing for his 50 years, and he could feel the soreness in his upper back and shoulders. He was second up the ladder and Thomas helped him through a narrow gate and onto the main deck.

“Mister Ames’ effects are still below,” he said. “Oh yes,” Thomas remembered his manners now. “May I present Sir Roger Ames.”

A heavy set man in a plain white shirt, waistcoat, and grey trousers made an affable bow. “Thomas Delson, sir. I’m Boatswain here, and welcome aboard the Ann . Forgive me to say we were not expecting to take on any further passengers.”