Marbeck and the Privateers (12 page)

Marbeck paused, realizing that by now he had probably been observed and assessed by half the town. With a rueful smile he sipped his ale and nodded. ‘I had a mind to look about here, that's all.'

The drawer gave a shrug. ‘Well, some hereabouts would be glad of any sort of work,' he said. ‘They tell us trade will open up with the Spaniards again after peace is made, but nobody expects a windfall any time soon.'

‘This man Gideon Swann, is he someone I should seek out?' Marbeck asked casually. He kept his voice low, but two men close by heard him. One looked round; the other peered at Marbeck over his friend's shoulder, then dropped his gaze.

‘I wouldn't know about that.' All at once there was a look of unease on the drawer's face, as if he regretted what he'd said. But it was only to be expected, if the Swanns were involved in contraband; and it was of no interest to Marbeck.

He walked away to drink alone, standing by the doorway. Men came and left, some throwing glances his way. Then he grew aware of a stir outside: people were moving past, heading towards the harbour mouth. Setting his mug down, he left the inn and stepped out to the quayside. It seemed busy … He stopped a boy who was following the general surge.

‘What's the coil?' he asked.

‘'Tis the
Amity
's
longboat coming in,' the lad answered. ‘Seems they've a dead man on board … fell sick on the way here, and died within sight of home. What evil luck, eh?'

He started off again, and Marbeck fell into pace with him. ‘Evil luck indeed,' he said. ‘Who is the poor fellow, do you know?' Whereupon the lad spoke briefly, causing him to stop.

‘Ship's carpenter – Gurran,' he called, and hurried off.

A small crowd was gathering. After a moment, Marbeck walked up to stand at the rear and looked out towards the harbour mouth. Soon he saw a boat approaching, with several seamen aboard. In a few minutes it was alongside, and a rope was thrown down. People gathered around a ladder-head, where a burly sailor appeared and was at once surrounded. But the talk was subdued, and soon ceased altogether. A short while later, an unmistakable shape appeared: that of a body wrapped in sailcloth and bound with rope, being hauled onto the quay.

His face expressionless, Marbeck stood aside, as with a rumble of wheels a handcart was rolled up. The body was placed on it, and a few people formed up behind. He watched with others as the party moved off towards the bridge. Soon the little crowd dispersed, and he found himself alone but for two sailors from the longboat, who were about to descend the ladder. Seeing this might be his only chance, he walked over to them.

‘Your pardon, but I'm dismayed by the news,' he said. When they looked to him he added: ‘Is the dead man truly Richard Gurran, carpenter of the
Amity
?'

After a moment one of them nodded. ‘Aye … fell sick some days back. By the time we rounded St Aldhelm's Head he was fading …' A frown appeared. ‘Were you acquainted with him?'

‘Briefly,' Marbeck answered. ‘I knew him as a skilled fellow, mighty clever …' Then casually he added: ‘Your vessel moves fast, does she not? Is she lying offshore? I was told you only left Gravesend three days ago.'

‘She's a flyboat,' the other sailor said shortly. ‘With a wind she makes good speed. What's your interest, friend?'

Both men were regarding him with hostility. It was unwise to ask questions, he knew, even if his only chance of learning more about the needle-bomb sent to Somerset House seemed to have vanished. ‘Just a passing interest,' he answered. ‘I've a cargo in France … been looking about for a vessel.'

‘Ours isn't for hire,' the first man said, in a tone that brooked no argument. And with that the two turned from him and descended the ladder. There was a plash of oars, and soon their boat was moving out towards the harbour mouth.

Head down, Marbeck walked along Hope Cove as far as the Bucks' house, but at the door he halted. He had no desire to enter; instead he would take Cobb out for exercise, he told himself. But he knew perfectly well that he simply wanted to ride far away from this town and think.

He did ride far: back up the Dorchester road, then along the high Downs as far as a village called Long Bredy. Letting Cobb have his head he cantered further, until finding himself on the road for Bridport he stopped. The day was fair, the air fresh and sweet, but in the end the ride did him little good; there was no denying his long journey to Weymouth appeared to have been for nothing. Finally, with the light fading, he rode Cobb back down the Roman road through Upwey and Broadwey and into Melcombe. Once again he dismounted, crossed the bridge and delivered his horse to the ostler at the King's Arms. Low in spirits, he tipped the man to give him a rub-down and a good supper and started for his lodging. It was growing late, and he was hungry. This would be his last night there, he decided … then he remembered Mary Kellett.

He had all but promised the girl he would get her away; leaving her in the clutches of John and Sarah Buck, he realized, was not something he could do. But his horse was weary from today's ride; it would have to be the following night. He would pass the day somehow, and get word to Mary to be ready. Then by some means, with Cobb saddled nearby, he must get her out of the house.

A soft footfall sounded behind … and in an instant he was on his guard, reaching for his sword. But when he span round he saw only a young couple, walking arm in arm. With a surprised look they passed him, then gave him good-night. Exhaling, he nodded in reply, then turned into Hope Cove and walked towards the Buck house. Dusk was falling, and the inlet was quiet. Night seemed to fall more quickly here, he mused. He was almost at the house when there was another footfall. This time he barely glanced round – which was a mistake.

Figures loomed: two or three of them, at least. A blade glimmered … He reached for his poniard, but something swung towards him. He ducked aside, and it struck his shoulder. His arm was seized, while a fist slammed into his stomach. Winded, he threw a punch into a face, heard a grunt, but already he knew he was undone. Struggling desperately, he was forced down onto the hard stones, while blows rained on his chest … finally, pinned to the ground, he could only pant as someone leaned close.

‘Leave, and don't return – or the next cut will be to your throat.'

There was a sharp pain at his ear, and warm blood welled. He gasped as the figures rose and drew back, leaving him in a heap on the quayside. Somewhere a dog was howling; the men melted away, and a door was opening, spilling light. Then came a squeal of alarm.

‘Mercy, Master Blunt. Look at you!'

Sarah Buck was gazing down at him. Behind her the slight figure of Mary Kellett appeared. Another shape emerged from the house, and a man's voice boomed.

‘What … is he drunk?'

Weakly Marbeck sat up, feeling a trickle of blood at his neck. Out of breath, sore in half a dozen places, he peered up as they gathered round him. But both Sarah Buck and Mary were pushed roughly aside by the stocky man who now bent over him.

‘I'm not drunk,' Marbeck muttered. ‘I was detained, you might say …' He put a hand to his left ear and groaned.

‘They've pinked it,' the man said in a matter-of-fact tone. He was holding a lantern aloft. ‘Can you stand up?'

He straightened himself, but did not offer a hand. So with an effort Marbeck heaved himself to his feet to stand before the fellow – who had to be his host, John Buck.

And the moment he looked into his face, he knew that he would probably have to kill him.

I
n more than fifteen years' service as a Crown intelligencer, Marbeck had dealt with rogues of every stamp and stripe, and of many nationalities. But John Buck was a home-grown villain of a sort peculiar, he believed, to the sea ports. The man may have had salt water in his veins, but he was no mariner. His features reminded Marbeck of one of the mastiffs that could be seen any afternoon at the Bankside bear-pit. The lives of such creatures tended to be short, and to end but one way.

‘You should rest … my wife will bring a supper. You want me to find a barber-surgeon, get your ear sewn up?'

Buck was standing in Marbeck's chamber with the door half-open, clearly wishing he were elsewhere. Marbeck sat on the bed, pressing a wad of linen to his ear; the worst of the bleeding had stopped. He looked at his host's swarthy face, covered by a thick beard to the cheekbones, and shook his head.

‘I'll attend to it myself.'

‘Did you see who attacked you?' Buck asked, though the question was half-hearted at best.

‘Not enough to identify any of them.' Marbeck met his eye … and a suspicion arose. ‘Did you not see them?'

‘I?' Buck frowned. ‘Nay – they were gone by the time I came out.' Then rather quickly, he added: ‘Sarah didn't see 'em either.'

‘Well, it shouldn't be too hard to find other witnesses – were I inclined to do so.' Marbeck spoke deliberately, watching the other man – and saw that his instincts were correct. Buck barely reacted, but it was enough.

‘An odd thing: it's as if they were waiting … as if they knew where I lodged,' he went on. ‘Then, in a town this size, I should have known I'd attract attention. I'm a nosy sort of fellow … always have been.'

Buck made no reply.

‘Like today, on Chesil Beach. I took a walk and came upon two brothers – named Swann, I'm told. They thought I was snooping about … it rattled them somewhat. Do you think they could have anything to do with me getting my ear slit?' Marbeck paused, then when the other still said nothing, delivered his final thrust. ‘I ask because they had a boat … said it belonged to you. Looked to me like they were up to some roguishness. I wonder what it might be?'

A moment passed; then John Buck pushed the door closed, allowing the latch to click. He took a step towards Marbeck, his broad shoulders tense. ‘What game do you play, Blunt?' he asked softly.

‘Game?' Marbeck echoed. ‘Why, are you a gambler?'

‘Not I …' Buck was frowning now. ‘I'm a careful man. Weigh my chances, then act as and when I have to.'

‘That's very astute.' Marbeck lowered the bloodstained cloth and made a deliberate show of inspecting it, while weighing his own chances. Here was a man who had a lot to lose, he decided. He looked up, saw the glint in Buck's eyes.

‘Is there something you want?' He asked.

‘Perhaps …' Marbeck held the wad to his ear again. ‘I see you're one who knows a good deal … where the barrels are buried, so to speak.'

The other caught his breath, but showed no fear. Marbeck read the danger in his gaze, and allowed himself a smile. ‘Does that alarm you? It was but a conceit …'

‘Enough!' Buck stood over him: a brutal man, with hands like shovels. Marbeck had already noted that he carried no weapon; perhaps the hands were enough. ‘Lay out your demands, Blunt,' he went on. ‘It's your choice … you can leave here richer than you came, or you can wash up with the tide somewhere along the coast. It's of no import to me.'

‘You waste no time,' Marbeck said, after a moment.

The other merely glowered.

‘Mary Kellett … what is she to you?'

As he had hoped, the question threw Buck off balance. For a moment he wavered, then a different expression appeared.

‘Is that what you want? By the Christ, why didn't you say.' The man rubbed his sweaty face, and almost smiled. ‘Well, if that's all, I'll send her to your bed tonight …'

‘No – that's not what I want.'

The change in Marbeck's tone was so abrupt, Buck blinked. For a second he wavered, then his hard look was back. On impulse, Marbeck snapped out a question.

‘The Sea Locusts – who are they?'

Buck went rigid, and his mouth shut like a trap.

‘Pirates, plunderers … contrabanders?' Marbeck eyed him coldly. ‘I'm curious to know.'

There was no answer.

‘I heard the name in London,' Marbeck went on, ‘only no one here wants to tell me anything. Fellow in Melcombe said I'd been spun a fable … but you know better, do you not?'

Buck lowered his gaze, seemingly in consternation; but when he looked up again, there was merely a vacant look. ‘You've just written your own death warrant, Blunt,' he said.

He turned away, wrenched the door aside and went out. Marbeck heard him stamping down the stairs, then let out a long breath and lay back on the bed.

Early the next morning Sarah Buck came to his room and told him things had changed, and he would have to seek lodgings elsewhere. She would take a shilling, even though he had spent two nights in the house. Mary would bring a breakfast, then he must vacate the chamber. Seeing he wasn't about to argue, she left him. Her manner was brisk and businesslike, but there was a cut on her mouth which she tried to conceal: a testament, Marbeck guessed, to her husband's displeasure.

He rose, bruised and sore, and began to dress. He had slept fitfully, but had not been disturbed. As he finished, Mary appeared with his breakfast – and at once he saw that, for her too, matters had changed. When she placed the tray down without looking at him and turned to go, he stepped close.

‘I haven't forgotten,' he murmured. ‘I'll get word …'

‘Please – it's no use.' She drew away, one hand on the latch. ‘I shouldn't have spoken …'

‘Yes – you should.' Frowning, he took her arm, but released it when she flinched away. ‘What's happened?' he demanded. ‘Has he threatened you, or …'

‘Why did you come here?' She turned suddenly, her eyes full of suspicion. ‘You're no trader, or aught to do with the sea. What is it you wanted?'

‘You said you could tell me things,' he said after a moment. ‘Can you give me an inkling—'

‘No … not now.' But she wavered, seeing that his concern for her was real. ‘You must go – get far away, and quickly. I know John and his ways, and I know the others …'