A Ship for The King (19 page)

‘Dissent? How mean you?' he asked.

‘Did you not detect it in Bristol?' Brenton paused. ‘You spoke of your people there being sober and somewhat dull Puritans, I thought.'

Faulkner frowned. ‘Yes, but I cannot recall expressions of dissent . . . though Sir Henry . . .' He broke off, recalling that Mainwaring's remark about the King's unreliability had been in confidence.

‘Sir Henry . . . ?'

‘Oh, 'twas nothing and likely I misunderstood.'

‘Sir Henry expressed a disloyal opinion did he?' Brenton asked, leaning forward with a smile on his face. ‘Then he is shrewder than I thought,' he said, adding in a slightly cynical tone, ‘I had marked him for a King's man, through and through.'

‘I have no doubt but that he is, utterly,' Faulkner said hurriedly. ‘I am no political beast, Harry, preferring to leave those matters to those better equipped to deal with them.'

‘Like My Lord Muckingham with his open purse and tight fist, revelling in the King's high opinion and seducing him from his proper regard for the good of his people. You cannot surely think that Buckingham's policies, which the King follows as a dog does a bitch in heat, will lead to any advantage. The King is bankrupt of funds and damn nigh bankrupt of friends.'

‘And in consequence we are defeated in France,' Faulkner responded. ‘Against which you must allow our ships have done much execution among French shipping in the Channel. It was with the intent of revenging themselves of that disadvantage that we met our friend of the other day.'

‘That is true, to be sure, but to hold the sea you must maintain a fleet and we shall find that increasingly impossible, if indeed, it is not already impossible.'

‘I think you are too gloomy in your prognostications, Harry. We shall see what state our arms are in tomorrow.'

‘We will indeed.'

The following morning they sailed into the Pertuis Breton and the fleet anchorage off the île de Rhé to find all was in confusion, as what seemed like hundreds of boats were pulled industriously betwixt the ships and the shore. The English standard still flew above the fortress on St Martin but as Faulkner learned within moments of stepping ashore, Buckingham had given orders for the withdrawing of his forces. Faulkner asked the whereabouts of the English commander of an officer of foot who was cursing a motley and ill-disposed mob of men whose semblance to an infantry regiment was negligible as they almost fought their way down to the stone harbour and the waiting boats.

‘My Lord Duke? God knows. Are you from England?'

‘Aye, with despatches for the Duke of Buckingham.'

‘From the King?' the man asked, lowering his voice. Faulkner nodded. ‘If I were you, I should keep that quiet.' He was about to resume herding his men, but added, ‘Unless they bring orders to withdraw, you are wasting your time. This has been a disaster; Richelieu has outfoxed us, the Rochellais despair of us and are treating with the Cardinal, we have little food and the islanders hate us. The sooner this lot are back on English soil, the better. To be truthful, there have been moments when I feared for my own life, not from the enemy but my own men, for God's sake!' At that he turned away and marched down to the harbour. None the wiser as to the whereabouts of Buckingham, Faulkner began to walk inland, past more groups of men bearing pikes and arquebusses making their way down to the boats of the fleet. No one seemed interested in the location of their commander-in-chief and several intemperately expressed their devout wish that he was in hell.

The hostility of the dishevelled and retiring troops increased the further he walked away from the landing up the rising ground. Everywhere the tents were coming down and cooking fires were being extinguished and bivouacs cleared. The sparse villages and settlements of the fisher-folk and subsistence sheep-farmers looked neglected, as though the mere presence of the English army had blighted them, while of their inhabitants and their domestic livestock there was scant sign. After an hour Faulkner had made his way to the outer works of the fortress at St Martin. It took him a further half-hour to make his way into the citadel where he was assured Buckingham had his headquarters by the milling soldiery. The lack of direction was palpable, an air of confusion prevailing everywhere. No one seemed interested in the fact that he carried the King's despatches, a fact he was compelled to announce in order to make any headway at all. In due course, however, his dogged persistence paid off and he encountered an elegantly dressed young man wearing half-armour whose very appearance, in such contrast to the rest of the dishevelled army, hinted strongly that he was part of Buckingham's personal suite. After explaining his mission, Faulkner was finally led into the Duke's presence.

In the company of several other high-ranking officers, Buckingham sat behind a table upon which the remains of a meal, some empty bottles and a few papers lay littered. Although Buckingham was dressed as elegantly as ever, his doublet was undone and it was clear that a deal of drinking had accompanied what Faulkner took to be a council of war. The young officer bowed and introduced him.

‘Your Grace, Captain Faulkner, newly arrived from London with His Majesty's despatches.'

It was clear that Buckingham had need to pull himself together. This was reflected by the conduct of the others. A gleam of recognition entered Buckingham's eyes as Faulkner stepped forward and presented his sealed package and the covering letter.

‘Faulkner . . . You were aboard the
Prince Royal
, were you not?'

‘I was, Your Grace.'

Buckingham grunted, shaking off the lassitude of overindulgence as he fumbled with the buttons of his doublet. ‘Pen and ink!' he ordered, and his military secretary brought both. Buckingham scribbled his signature against the receipt Faulkner handed him with the sealed packet. Then he tore at the seal and began unwrapping the contents, looking up briefly at Faulkner. ‘Very well, Captain. You may go.'

‘Your Grace.' Faulkner bowed. ‘May I enquire whether you have any orders for me?'

‘Orders? Why, pick up as many of these damned dogs as you can, and convey them to Portsmouth,' he said dismissively, at which point one of the officers rose.

‘With your permission, Your Grace, I will embark with Captain Faulkner.'

The move seemed to galvanize Buckingham who suddenly enquired, ‘What is your ship, Captain?'

‘The
First Lion's Whelp
, Your Grace.'

Buckingham's face visibly brightened. ‘A
Whelp
, by God! No, Goring, you may not. She is mine and I shall reserve her for myself.' He smiled at Faulkner. ‘Pray refresh yourself, Captain, while I digest His Majesty's wishes.'

Faulkner withdrew with the young staff officer, who introduced himself as Captain Charles Aylwin, and accepted a glass of wine and a slice of sausage. After a few moments the man identified as Goring led the other senior officers out and Aylwin went in to see the Duke, emerging a few moments later to beckon Faulkner inside. Buckingham stood, his doublet fully buttoned, all trace of his former
déshabillé
eradicated.

‘Captain, you have doubtless seen the state to which we are reduced and that the army is under orders to embark. The commands that you have brought are quite impossible. I shall come aboard your
Whelp
at daylight, by which time the embarkation will be completed and we may weigh and proceed home.'

‘I shall make the necessary preparations, Your Grace.'

If Faulkner expected any personal advantage to accrue to himself for the conveying of His Grace the Duke of Buckingham on his homeward passage, he was to be, yet again, disappointed. No flag flew at the
Whelp
's main-truck to reveal the presence of the Lord High Admiral of England: that remained at the masthead of the flagship. The Duke's passage in the
Whelp
allowed him to enter England quietly without ceremony so that he was at the King's side before the reports of the extent of the military disaster reached His Majesty. Being alongside the King enabled Buckingham to smoothly explain the losses of men and
matériel
, usually by blaming the conduct of others. The consequences of this were to be dire: the King learned nothing about military operations nor ever lost the habit of foisting the blame for his own later military incompetence upon the shoulders of other men.

Unaware of all this, the departure of the Duke left Faulkner with a false sense of his own importance and orders to take the
Whelp
out on a cruise and – within the limits of his stores – wage war upon French commerce before laying her up for the winter at Deptford.

In this, however, Faulkner achieved a modest success, enhancing his own growing reputation by taking four French coasting vessels off the island of Marcouf before escaping over the horizon, only to make a brief appearance at Harfleur where he put the local fishing fleet to flight after taking three of their number. He was most lucky in discovering a laden merchantman at anchor off St Valéry en Caux which he carried off under the noses of the French ashore. Thereafter, and fearing the pursuit of a ship-of-war such as they had encountered on their outward passage, he headed for the Thames where the
Whelp
was paid off and the evidence of his prizes entered before the Prize Court. With Buckingham owning the
Whelp
he anticipated no problems in securing favourable adjudications and before Christmas he was able to pay those men who answered his summons to Deptford the monies due to them. His officers, Brenton and Eagles especially, all pocketed sums which, though modest enough, pleased them mightily. As for himself, he was some two hundred pounds better off, though he had enriched Buckingham by three times that amount.

Though no great exploit, the cruise of the
Whelp
under Faulkner was sufficiently known about to persuade the Court of Trinity House to take notice of him. Mainwaring advised him to invest in a London ship, and Faulkner purchased the majority shareholding in a 200-ton snow named the
Perseus
, all of which caused his election as a Younger Brother of the Trinity House.

Early the following year Faulkner's new ship was among those chartered to convey to the newly established colony of Maryland – named in honour of the Queen who was thus known at Court – some of the fifteen hundred orphans and homeless children found on the streets of London. The business detained Faulkner in London for several months and in this manner he took no part in Denbigh's resumption of operations from the île de Rhé in support of the Huguenots of La Rochelle that year. Denbigh had married a sister of Buckingham's and thereby obtained the chief command. However, his stay in the Pertuis Breton was short-lived – a mere seven days – before he returned home, to the fury of the King who had given his word to support the Protestant cause.

These circumstances enraged the public, many of whom were inflamed at the King's treatment of Parliament over the Petition of Rights, which he first approved and then, entering Parliament in person, promptly repudiated. The populace of London, always sensitive to political turmoil, began to appear on the streets in a bloody mood. Milling crowds called for Buckingham's impeachment even as the Commons solemnly attributed all the ills of the kingdom to Buckingham's malign influence on the King. The Duke was reliably reported to have brushed aside the powers of Parliament, claiming that neither the House of Lords, nor the House of Commons, could touch the hair of a dog if it lay under the King's protection. The implication was clear: he was, alongside the King, above Parliament. The matter came to a head when a mob murdered the Duke's physician, Doctor Lambe, attaching to the corpse a placard which asked:

Meanwhile, in taverns and ale-houses the doggerel was roared out that:

Only vaguely aware of these disturbances, Faulkner's preoccupation with his Maryland venture was abruptly ended when he received orders to recommission the
Whelp
and join a squadron then forming at Deptford where Buckingham would embark for Portsmouth. Yet another expedition was intended to sail for France, a move widely regarded as stupid and designed solely to recover the King's reputation in Europe, of which no one anticipated success, except Buckingham and the King himself.

Though thought to be concerned about the Duke's safety, the King accompanied Buckingham to Deptford where the Lord High Admiral once again embarked. Faulkner, keen to ensure that nothing went wrong with the firing of salutes and the getting under way of the squadron, took no part in the ceremonials of embarkation. Indeed, he was not happy until the ships had cleared The Downs and stood down Channel where the cool breeze blew away the complications of the shore. He was beginning to loathe the predominance of political argument that seemed about to tear the country asunder; it seemed that every street corner produced its orator, even in the purlieus of Wapping and along the Ratcliffe Highway. Even the Brethren of Trinity House – good seamen to a man – whose main concern was the regulating of pilotage on the Thames and the dispensing of charity to the wretched wounded and incapacitated seamen of the King's ill-run navy and their widows and orphans, were not averse to falling into violent argument over the rights of the King versus those of the Parliament.

From time to time he encountered Mainwaring there and his old protector seemed bowed under the weight of his duties and responsibilities. ‘We must hold together,' Mainwaring had asserted, ‘else our legitimacy will be compromised.'