"It is a job like any other for a smuggler," she said. "Frowned on by authority, deep against the law, but there to make the wheels go round. Celine would tell you, if she were here, she would explain to you. Vive la commerce would be her motto: long live business."
Will wrestled with it, but sensibly he was shocked. Later, as they picked slowly through benighted countryside, he wondered if he should bring it up with Sam but decided, on the whole, it would be better left unsaid. When his friend raised the subject on his own account, as they sheltered under trees during a heavy downfall, he was non-committal, but not surprised by Holt's vehemence. Of all the parts of the free traders' story, Sam averred, it was the one he hated most. But when he'd raised it with Isa on the Langstone foreshore, the dour smuggler had only laughed.
"They don't take it serious at all," he added. "He says it's part of normal intercourse between countries at war, else all the jails would burst. He says she's working now, down at the Medway, there's a ship expected, a rendezvous set up, he was as open as a drunkard's cellar door. The only trouble is, he might be joking me, it might be another strand he's laying up to tie us with. Dear God, I wish we had the picture laid out straight, don't you?"
William felt the chill rain dripping down his neck, but could not reply. He was tired, rather lonely, getting cold. They had only been abroad two hours, and there were many hours more. He thought of bed and thought, inevitably, of Deborah. Beneath him, his horse blew through its nostrils, noisily.
"They're using us," Sam said. "They're using us unmercifully, you understand that much, don't you, my friend? My feeling is the French maid may be the real heart of it, but my trouble is I can't be sure. I can't make up my mind if we should be aiding them at all, I only know they're using us, unmerciful."
Will wrestled with that too, but had to ask, at last. How using them, did Samuel not believe there was a meeting coming off, that a force to shatter it might not bring off a fairly mighty coup? But yes, Sam did believe it, but then again he thought it half the story, half or even less.
"We're being used to save the locals' bacon, that's what I think," he said. "They talk of rich shadows and a ruthless gang, but what it boils down to is they're being took over by a bigger "family", God spare the word and me for using it. They want to stay small and masters of themselves, don't they? To do mayhem, to murder, and to thieve. While Sally/Celine sells our country down the river."
"But don't you believe they're sickened by the last few weeks? By Yorke and Warren's deaths? By John? Hell, Sam, I can't think Mary's acting it! Nor Isa for that matter. He seems an honest man."
"Aye! For a smuggler! For a merchant in cold steel and instant death! Nay, Will, don't look so glum, my opinion's not so far from yours, in actual. They're using us, I guess, because there is no other way, and who knows, we might even bring it off. I wish they'd tell us who the "shadows" were, though. Not the murderers, I believe them when they say they do not know. But these rich venturers, around Hampshire and West Sussex and so on. It is the way they looked at us when they did not give us names. Ah well, a different kind of power, I suppose. The sort of respected gentlemen who threw us into jail in Kent. It is a murky bloody game they play, when all is said."
At any rate, they both agreed, as they shook rain from off their hats and cloaks and prepared to set out along the sodden track now the worst of the storm was done, there was no fault in breaking up a smuggling gang, even if by doing so they helped another thrive. Their first move, after going to Sir A to tell the latest, should be to tempt Slack Dickie with it as a plan, which neither of them guessed as easy. Helping the Customs would not appeal at all, except there was a clear chance to beat them at their own work and show them as incompetents, and a battle on a beach would be a hard and bloody venture, with long odds. Sir A had said keep clear of him as well, advice they both agreed was only good. But with the dearth of concrete facts they knew, with a venture based on speculation only, they could hardly dare to try for other Navy aid. Lord Wodderley had issued firmer orders now, Sir A had promised, and Kaye could not refuse them, despite he'd scorned instructions once. They could but go and try, in any case. If he spurned them, they would have to think again.
"I know the Adur well where it goes into the Channel," said Sam, 'it is my patch. There are not many houses it could be, I have a fair hazard already as to which. If all else fails we could go down there on our own account and watch it happening. We might even recognise some of the perpetrators! The sort of men like Chester Wimbarton, no doubt. Somehow, we might even spot the murderers."
This sounded ludicrous beyond belief, but Sam insisted it could be done if need be. The ideal thing, he said, would be to use a small Press gang as cover, a band with horses searching for seafarers as they were supposed to do, not hunting or expecting to have stumbled on a free trade game. If they saw crowds but played dumb and accosted no one, no one would accost them probably, and they could run at need. At very least, he added, seeing Will's dubiety, he ought perhaps to spy out the land himself alone beforehand, or any band they brought or ship that landed men would face a rout. With stealth and his local knowledge that should be quite possible.
They were close to Langham Lodge by this time, and looking forward to their beds, when ahead of them in a lucky shaft of moonlight they saw three men on horseback. They both reined in precipitately, but even before the flash of light was gone they knew it was an ambush. "Left!" bellowed Sam, then kicked out to steer him to the right. As they left the track and got on to the soft, in pitch dark once more mercifully, there came a smaller, redder flash ahead of them, followed by a loud report, a scattergun or blunderbuss with heavy charge. Shortly there was another gun let off, a musket crack this one, then they heard shouts and imprecations. The ground beneath their horses quickly became too soft for speed or safety, so they got back on the road, though very fearful. Within two minutes they were under threat, and going at top speed, and praying there were not more villains waiting up ahead.
The chase went on, on highway and down by-ways that Sam knew, for more than twenty minutes, although none of the shots that they heard fired came close. They had come from Emsworth at a slack pace, stopping to watch for followers and to shelter frequently, and Sir Arthur's horses were of the best. After an hour miles past Langham Lodge they drew in rein behind thick undergrowth, and watched and waited for another hour. Then it was a case of finding the London road once more, and keeping out a constant weather eye. To east the sky was lightening, and market traffic from farm and dairy soon started to build up. By the time they reached the London Bridge, full dawn was wanting half an hour. Hungry and tired as they were, they did not use the Bear's Paw at Southwark. Whoever their attackers had been just highway rogues or part of some conspiracy they knew where Sir Arthur Fisher lived, it seemed, and might know more. It was Will's idea to try the rendezvous, not take a boat so far downriver as the Biter, because it was unlikely Lieutenant Kaye would deign to share quarters with a dockyard crew. He'd be asleep and snoring at the Lamb; and there would be a better breakfast there.
Twenty-Seven
The great surprise, when they faced Kaye across a table, was the change in his demeanour and his attitude towards them. They had slept a while, after some bread and bacon, but left instruction that they must be called when the lieutenant rose. They approached in trepidation as he sat with meat and coffee in the best parlour room, feeling and looking like two rather weary tramps. They had thought and talked themselves to stalemate before sleep had come to them, they had assessed their chances with increasing gloom. On appearances alone he could have turned them out, let alone when they broached their thorny subject. He could have turned them out, he could have shouted, he could have used them with his customary contempt. Instead a broad grin stretched his face, and he gestured them to sit.