Luckily for Frederick, the picnic exhausted Anne, so she retired early. She fell asleep quickly—but Frederick lay beside her, wide awake, brooding about what was to come, what could happen that evening.
He had made a commitment in exchange for an estate and a title for Anne’s sake; but—insofar as it was possible—he would fulfill his commitment on
his
terms. Tonight, he would lead his men into the unknown. He had never felt so uncertain—not since his first naval command mission.
Am I asking my men to do the impossible? What if someone dies?
He slipped out of bed sometime later. Now, he stood looking down at the sleeping figure of the woman who owned his heart.“I love you, my Anne,” he whispered, before quietly leaving her chamber for his dressing room. He dressed in casual attire—breeches, boots, a cambric shirt open at the neck, and a greatcoat.
Frederick and Matthew Harwood left the estate via horseback in time to reach their meeting point long before his men. After serving under him for several years, Harwood knew Frederick
needed
to assess the scene prior to the others’ arrival. After riding in silence for nearly a half hour, Harwood finally asked,“Do we have any idea what we face tonight?”
“If you ask whether I have thought this through, I assure you I have, Lieutenant.” That was all he said, because his plan was woefully lacking in specifics.Tonight he would learn firsthand how to be an agent for the government. He wondered—too late—whether he should have contacted Marcus Lansing, after all. “Will the others join us?”
“The men will be there, Captain—I guess I should say Admiral—or Lord Orland?” Harwood’s voice betrayed his nervousness.
Wentworth mentally cringed with the knowledge that his men would put their lives on the line simply because he asked them to.“I prefer Captain to the other titles; it seems a more comfortable fit.”
Finally arriving in Studland, Frederick and Harwood made their way through the deserted streets and alleys surrounding the warehouses.They left their horses tied up in the wooded area outside
the village and moved through the shadows. As predicted, villagers throughout the county had celebrated during the day, so anyone who might have legitmate business in the warehouse district at this hour was home sleeping it off. However, when they spotted the warehouse in question, several men buzzed about it. Two stood guard at the entrance while the others unloaded barrels from wagons, evidently cargo from the ship sitting in Studland Bay.
“Are they armed?” Harwood whispered from their vantage point between two buildings facing the warehouse.
Frederick nodded slightly and put away his spyglass. “The two out front are.We should assume the others are as well.” He paused for a moment before continuing.“I need for you to sneak back to the horses and meet the men. I am going around to the back to see if I can get a better look. If I am caught, you are not to stage a rescue; I will not have men’s lives put in danger to save me.You will ride hard to find Lord Wallingford and tell him what I did, and he will know what to do. Do you understand me on this, Harwood?”
“Yes, Sir—I understand.” Frederick heard the man’s breath catch in his words.
“If I think we have a chance to stop this, I will follow you to meet the men. Now, move out, Harwood.”
Hesitating briefly, Harwood turned to leave. “Be careful, Captain. Your missus needs you.”
“I am fully aware of that, Lieutenant. Now, hurry.”
The ease with which he managed to find his way to the back of the warehouse surprised Frederick. He had expected it to be better protected, especially considering the cargo was probably illegal,
but the gang foresaw no trouble
. The men separated the items into four distinct areas—just as someone might divide furniture for the rooms of a house.
He worked his way through the shadows. His height made it difficult to secure places to hide, as the cargo was not stacked. He hunched over to hurry from one area to another, trying to get close enough to survey the unloading. He wanted to know what the
thieves moved and how much resistance his men might face.Yet, afraid to get any closer, Frederick hid behind some barrels near the steps, slipping back into the orifice beneath the stairs.
Hearing the planks above his head creak, Frederick moved so that he was flush against the back wall, pulling his dark coat about him to make himself less visible in the dim shadows. Then people—three, from what he could tell—began to descend the steps slowly—first one and then another and then another.
Not even breathing, he demanded silence, although his pulse thrummed in his ears, and Frederick wondered how the men could not hear it. He wanted desperately to know who these men were, but he forced himself to remain patient and just watch and listen.
“The pictures go to my special client,” a man in a dark gray coat spoke as he stepped to a lower level.“He pays well, and we can use the money to buy additional hulls.”
“What of the brandy?” Another man posed on the upper steps. All Frederick could see of him was his boots. Frederick sank even farther back against the wall, trying to make himself as small as possible. He could not confront these men alone; he must learn as much as he could before going for help.
A local, speaking in a Dorsetshire accent, descended next.“The brandy be for sale to pay me men.”
“Is everything else in place?”The first man now stood so close to him that Frederick feared he would turn to see him hiding in the shadows.
“Lord Cochrane understands we do this for him. He sent specific instructions.” With that, the men began to walk toward the warehouse’s main opening, and Frederick slowly peeled himself off the wall, preparing to move out the way he had come in. He wished he knew more, but he could not risk staying any longer. He rushed from one cluster of barrels to another, pausing only long enough to allow guards or workers to pass. Finally reaching the door, he edged it open, barely wide enough to slip his body through. He did not relax until he was well away from the building.
Frederick circled the area, coming out on a different pathway,
before setting out for the meeting place on foot. Proceeding through the wooded farmland surrounding the village, he followed the hedgerows rather than cutting directly across the fields. It was a clear night; even without a full moon, he could see quite easily. Arriving near the copse of trees hiding his men, he let out the prearranged whistle before entering the wooded circle and heard Harwood whistle in return. All the men—his men—waited for him. Harwood rushed forward to meet him. “What did you find, Captain?”The other men closed ranks to hear his story.
“First,” Frederick began, “I want each of you to know what I am asking you to do is dangerous. Also, this is not like when we took ships and shared prize money. With this mission, you simply get what little I can give you; so if you want out, no one will consider it a shame, for you have already served your country and me most faithfully.”
“We follow you, Captain.” Harwood spoke first, but the others echoed his sentiments.
“Then this is what I know.A group of smugglers are, as I speak, moving cargo into a warehouse, evidently to separate it before distributing it to different interested parties. There must be four distinct types of commodities—for they divide the containers as such. I overheard some men speaking of pictures, and I observed large wooden crates, which must contain framed artwork, probably smuggled out of France to satisfy a member of the aristocracy.They also spoke of brandy, and I noted appropriate-sized casks in which, I suspect, the brandy can be found.”
“What of the other items, Captain?” John Langley, his former quartermaster and one of the men he placed in a shopkeeper’s position, asked the question all of them were thinking.
“Truthfully, Langley, I do not know. Barrels of some sort were being unloaded, but no markings showed. And something smelled like rotten fish or rotten eggs, but I do not know what it was.”
Harwood asked,“How many men?”
Frederick mentally counted the men he had seen. “A half
dozen moved the supplies in and out; I counted four guards—two front and two on the sides; and there were three others—those are the ones I overheard speaking about the brandy and the crates.”
“Thirteen men then!” George Shipley, a lately minted midshipman, replied, his tone more forceful than his words.
Frederick looked around the group to assure that they each understood what he said. “Again, what I ask of each of you is not a requirement to maintain the position in which I placed you. I will
not
force anyone to become a part of this. These men we seek betray our government, making a quick profit at the expense of hard-working people like yourselves. They set themselves above the law. My interference will make some enemies—those who wish to forge an alliance with France being among them. If you come with me tonight, you will be a part of something great. We have left our ship, but the battle for a free England still remains.Yet, each of you must decide whether you wish to fight.As for myself, I fight for my wife and my unborn child; I want them to live in a country where such crimes are not tolerated by a titled man or a tradesman or a farmer.” Frederick’s expression became grim.
There was silence, and then John Langley asked, “How do we proceed, Captain?”
“First, we need a distraction to divert the attention of the guards in front while the majority of us slip into the back of the warehouse.”
“Drunks are common along the docks and in the warehouse district,” a mast captain added.“One of us could be obnoxiously drunk.”
Langley thought out loud,“We need to recruit some women to help us next time. A woman could pretend to be a lady of the evening and distract the guards.”
Frederick raised an eyebrow.“Next time,” he said.“But what about tonight, gentlemen? Who among you can be the most obnoxious?”
All eyes immediately fell on Christian Hollmes, a tall, broad-shouldered, lean, but muscular, man, with calloused hands and tanned skin.“I guess I am your man, Captain,” he said jovially as the others slapped him on the back.
“Good,” Wentworth commented. “You are large enough to handle any trouble once we are discovered. We are counting on you, Hollmes.”
“Do not worry, Captain,” he assured.
“Gentlemen, we set sail in unknown waters—very dangerous waters.Think of your first boarding of an enemy ship. None of us knew what to do the first time. It will be the same tonight. Be safe—take no undue chances. Capture whom you can, but do not follow a man into the night—into the unknown. I want no casualties. None of us has spent much time battling the enemy on land. Let us learn from tonight’s encounter.”
As he led the men back along the hedgerows toward the warehouse, Frederick thought about why he was undertaking this perilous mission. He desired a proper home for
his Anne
and their child. Also, he had made a promise to the British government, and he was a man of his word. Further, he
hated
being under Wallingford’s watchful eye; if he must act in the name of the government, he would do it on his terms. Finally, he took responsibility as Viscount Orland. All seemed logical reasons—rationales for his actions—but were they the whole truth? In reality, he did not know.
CHAPTER 25
Now thou hast loved me one whole day,
Tomorrow when thou leav’st, what wilt thou say?
Wilt thou then antedate some new-made vow?
Or say that now
We are not just those persons which we were?
—John Donne,“Woman’s Constancy”
When the men signaled to one another that they were in position to enter the back of the warehouse, Hollmes—shirttail out of his breeches, face smudged with soot, and ale obtained from a flask Shipley carried, splashed on his person—staggered forward out of the shadows. He greeted the two men standing guard. Everyone else seemed to be inside. “Hey, Boys, what be here?” Hollmes called out as he lunged against the wagon, pretending to be barely able to stand.