A Certain Threat (The Merriman Chronicles Book 1) (22 page)

“
The cutter would be sold and we would all share in the money Sir, I swear I didn’t know there was to be killing until the cutter was attacked and ----- “

Merriman cut him short. 
“Do you know where you are to meet the fishing boat and what the signal is?”

“
Yes your Honour, one mile to sea due west of Ravenglass between nine of the clock and midnight.  It was expected that the attack on the Viceroy’s ship would be before mid-day and we could be in position that same night.”

“
And the signal?” asked Merriman anxiously.

“
A blue light over a white light, flashed three times every ten minutes.  The answer is a white light over a red.”

“
What about the French ship, what is she?  And who is the M’sieur Moreau that your officer spoke off?

“
A corvette Sir, sixteen guns and the usual crew with more Irishmen aboard.  Moreau isn’t the captain.  He came to the ship with orders to the captain to place himself under Moreau’s command.  I think he is some sort of secret agent Sir, I heard him say something to the captain about reporting to a person in the National Assembly in Paris.”

Merriman leaned back in his chair with a sense of relief flooding over him. 
Now he had it all.  It remained to protect the
Dorset
and fight or chase off the French ship and to intercept the raid on the warehouse at Ravenglass.  But no longer was he mixed up with agents and spies, it was now a matter of straight forward naval action with which he was familiar.

“
Take him away, Mr. St James, fasten them all up again but keep this man separate from the rest.”

Meanwhile, Benedict was still standing with the noose round his neck, close to fainting with the tension.  He saw the marine Lie
utenant return to the deck and call to his sergeant that all was over.  He was amazed to see the four bloodstained “corpses” scramble to their feet unharmed, grinning all over their faces.  He realized that they were not his own men but English seamen wearing his own men’s clothing.  His face betrayed his feelings as the noose was lifted from around his neck and he realized how they had been deceived.

“
Yes, M’sieur, you have been tricked ,” said Lieutenant St James, “Your men are alive, we stained their clothing with chicken’s blood.  Captain Merriman is not a man to execute prisoners out of hand however much they deserve it.  No, you’ll all face trial for your crimes and I doubt if the judge will be as lenient as Captain Merriman.”

Merriman regarded his lieutenants carefully.  Jeavons, Laing, Andrews and St James together with the Master were all eying him eagerly.  “So you see Gentlemen, we now know the whole plot.  We must ensure that neither the attack on the
Dorset,
nor the theft of the graphite can succeed. This is what I propose.”

“
Mr. Jeavons, you will take command of the cutter with sufficient men to handle her. You will take Mr Andrews with you and some of the marines under their sergeant and rendezvous with the fishing boat off Ravenglass, probably tonight or maybe tomorrow night    I suspect that it will be the smack we saw leaving Parkgate yesterday with the man aboard whom we believe to be the leader of the smugglers. You know the signals, so if they reply correctly you’ll know it is the right boat.   They are unlikely to suspect that anything is amiss and you should be able to close and take them by surprise.  They are unlikely to fight but a sample of cannon shot over their heads and through the rigging should make them see sense.  Remember, I want as many prisoners as possible.”

“
Aphrodite
will stay with the
Dorset.
I hope to intercept the French ship and be able to bring her to action, although I have my doubts that she will fight once it is realized that we are ready for her.  Do you have any questions Gentlemen?”

“
Only one Sir” said Lieutenant Jeavons, “What do you want done with the fishing boat and the prisoners when we have them?”

“
I suggest you make your way towards Dublin.  Once the Frenchman has been dealt with and the Viceroy is safely delivered,
Aphrodite
will sail to meet you.  I’ll look for you to the south of the Isle of Man”.

An hour later Merriman stood on deck and watched the cutter sail off to the north and the Cumberland coast.  It was a straightforward mission but he wondered how Jeavons would cope with it.  Merriman shrugged his shoulders, it was Jeavons
’ right to be given the chance and at least he had young Andrews with him.

The day passed with no sign of the Royal Yacht. Visibility worsened and a worried Mr. Cuthbert complained to Merriman that they could be aground before seeing anything.  It was not until the next mor
ning that the weather cleared sufficiently for
Aphrodite
to take her position out of sight of the coast but from where they would see the
Dorset
emerge from the estuary.  About mid morning she was seen from the masthead, flying St. George’s flag, and moving well offshore as arranged.

“
Keep her in sight Mr. Cuthbert, but not too close.  We have the weather gauge so we can run down on her very quickly if she signals”.

However, it was not until the two ships were well past Anglesey that the lookout shouted
“Deck there, signal flag down Sir and
Dorset’s
changing course”.

Merriman rubbed his hands together, his plan seemed to be working. 
“Very well, Mr. Cuthbert, set a course to meet her and I’ll have all the sail she can carry.  Mr. Laing, beat to quarters if you please.

He stood behind the men on the big ship
’s wheel, watching as the drum roll brought the men racing up on deck.  To the shouted orders of the petty officers the topmen were up the ratlines like monkeys, out on the yards and loosing tops’ls and t’gallants which filled with a bang as the braces were hauled taut and the ship heeled over to the extra press of canvas and the spray came over the rail like bullets. Merriman grinned to himself; this was real sailing and no mistake.  “Mr. Laing, I’ll have that last reef out of the mains’l and another pull on the lee braces if you will.”

He caught the look of alarm on the Master
’s face.  “Don’t worry Mr. Cuthbert, she’ll carry it and more.”  At the speed they were going it was not long before the tops’ls of the
Dorset
could be seen from the deck.  Merriman looked round, “You, Larkin, I’m told you have the sharpest eyes aboard, aloft with you and tell me what you see.”

Merriman waited in a fever of impatience while the man climbed to the main topmast crosstrees
.  “Deck there,
Dorset’s
bearin’ up towards us and there’s another ship beyond her, looks like a sloop of war Sir. Could be a Frenchie by the cut of her sails.”

“
Stay there and tell me if there is any change” shouted Merriman, beginning to pace up and down in the limited space left to him.  He juggled in his mind with the problem of the different positions and speeds of the three ships.  With any luck the French would have their attention fixed on the
Dorset
and would not yet have seen
Aphrodite
screened as she was by the
Dorset. 
Maybe they could get even nearer.  The hull of the Viceroy’s ship was now visible from the deck, rapidly looming closer as the two ships converged.

The boom of a cannon and the splash
of a shot just ahead of the
Dorset
showed only too clearly the intentions of the French.  Now Merriman knew for certain that the third ship was the enemy.  He made his decision.

“
We’ll pass close astern of
Dorset
then round up to put ourselves between the two of them.  Be ready with your gun crews Mr. Laing, we may get the chance to give the French a broadside.”

There was a hail from Larkin at the masthead. 
“Deck, The Frenchie’s turning away Sir, she must ‘ave seen us.”

“
Damn and blast them, we may not be able to bring our broadside to bear now.  Mr. Laing, have the gunner stand by his toys forr-ard.”

Nearer and nearer they came to the
Dorset
until it seemed as though they would collide with her quarterdeck.  There was Captain Knox frantically waving his one arm and the alarm on the faces of the passengers was clearly visible.

“
Ease a point – hold it, hold it” growled Merriman to the seamen at the wheel; mentally juggling the various factors at work, the courses the ships were steering, the force of wind and its effect on each ship.  Out of the corner of his eye he could see his officers and seamen waiting for his order.  He waited a moment or two longer, then “Now” he roared, “Helm down.”

Aphrodite
seemed to spin on the spot as she turned under the stern of the
Dorset,
close enough to toss a coin across it seemed and then she was round and as the seamen hauled madly on the braces and sheets she steadied, close hauled, on a course heading directly for the French ship.

Merriman was aware of cheers from the
Dorset
as they swept past and he raised his hat in acknowledgement.  The French ship was now heading away with all sail set and even without his glass Merriman could read the name on her stern ---
La Sirene.

“
Mr. Hodges, fire as you bear.”  The gunner, crouched behind and between the two twenty five pounders raised his arm in response, waited until
Aphrodite
rose to a wave then tugged the lanyards. Both guns belched fire and smoke.  One shot splashed into the water close alongside the Frenchman but the other smashed through the stern window in a cloud of splinters, but without visibly impairing the ship’s sailing abilities.

“
Well done Mr. Hodges, keep at it” called Merriman. The gun crews reloaded the guns as fast as they could. Hodges bent over, briefly sighted               and fired both of them again.  Both balls splashed into the sea just astern of
La Sirene
and the next salvo was no better.  Hodges turned to the quarterdeck, “Sorry Sir, she’s out of range of these guns Sir.”

It was true, the other ship was gaining g
round quickly whilst
Aphrodite
was still building up her speed after being slowed by the turn.  Merriman looked up at the straining canvas, every sail that could be set was set.  He pounded his fist on the rail in frustration.

“
Damn it! How do the French shipwrights manage to build faster ships than our English shipyards?”

He raised his telescope as he saw a man on the stern of the French ship waving his hat. The glass clearly revealed a tall man dressed in black with a deep scar on his left cheek.  He wore
a cloak and carried a long sword at his side. “I wonder if that’s the Moreau the French officer mentioned” mused Merriman.  As though the man had heard, he made an elaborate bow and waved his hand in farewell.

Merriman became aware of Midshipman Oakley tr
ying to attract his attention.  “Yes, what?”

“
Signal from
Dorset
Sir, reads – break off chase and stay by me to Dublin. Then it spells out Viceroy Sir.”

“
Very well Mr. Oakley, acknowledge that.”  Merriman again pounded his hand on the rail, accepting that the other ship would make it’s escape.  A touch faster and his ship would have caught
La Sirene
he was sure; but he dare not disobey a direct order from the Viceroy.  “Mr. Laing, reduce sail and take up station astern and upwind of the
Dorset.
”  He watched unhappily as
La Sirene,
now well ahead, turned and headed to the south.

Moreau cursed his luck.  Just when he thought the capture of the
Dorset
was certain, a lookout had sighted the English warship hidden by the sails of the
Dorset.
  It was no part of his plan to risk an open engagement with a warship at this time, even a small one so closely matched to the power of
La Sirene. 
Because of the other part of his plan, he was forced to turn tail and run
like a coward.  The damned English must have known about the plan to capture the
Dorset
or else someone had talked when the cutter was re-taken.  But then again it may just be coincidence, because the warship must have been despatched by the Admiralty weeks ago to be here at this moment. So maybe nobody had betrayed him.

Although he had successfully planted a chain of agents in Ireland and England, the plan hatched between himself and Gaillard in Paris was finished.  There was no chance of surprising and capturing Lord Westmorland now.  
If he had not been betrayed then his plan to take the graphite would not have been compromised.  And it was his own plan of which Paris knew nothing.  He had hoped to return to France to report a successful outcome to Monsieur Gaillard and to add on the delivery of a cargo of graphite which France desperately needed.  The value of the captured ship and such a cargo would, at a stroke make him wealthy and establish him with the Revolutionary Committee as a daring and resourceful agent.

Well, forget the cutte
r and its Irish crew, he would have the graphite anyway.  All he had to do was meet the smugglers in the fishing boat off the Cumberland coast and together they could attack the warehouse.  The graphite would have to be loaded aboard
La Sirene.
Moreau paced angrily up and down the deck thinking furiously.  He stopped suddenly.  The spy at the Poacher’s Rest!  He must have heard all and managed to pass on the information to a colleague before he was killed.  That would explain it .  Therefore he could expect the English to know all about the scheme to take the graphite.  The warship had gone to Ireland, maybe they had sent the cutter to forestall the raid on the warehouse.  Perhaps he could evade the warship and still find a way to seize the graphite and so save part of the plan.

He turned to the ship
’s captain.  “Capitaine, turn the ship about .  We must make for the rendezvous immediatement.”