A Ship for The King (20 page)

To which another of their number, a Younger Brother named William Rainsborough, had interjected, ‘Aye, Sir Henry, you are right, but does our legitimacy derive from the will of the King, or is it for the benefit of the poor? His Majesty had left us in our beneficent goodness to attend to the abuses he promotes under His Grace of Buckingham . . .'

‘But these differences are passing, Rainsborough,' Mainwaring had maintained.

‘Let us hope so, Sir Henry. Let us hope so,' Rainsborough had responded.

The Duke's squadron joined the other men-of-war and transports assembled at Spithead towards the end of August. Again the season was late and within a month the equinoctial season would be upon them, but still Buckingham delayed, almost as contemptuous of the weather as he was of the common people of England. He sent orders for his captains to join him ashore for breakfast on the 23rd and Faulkner received his summons the night before, ordering a boat for early next morning. He was fortunate in having again secured the services of Brenton and Eagles, along with many of his former hands who, hearing of the hot press sent out to round up all available seamen for the new expedition, had chosen to volunteer with the ‘lucky' Captain Faulkner.

That morning Faulkner arrived at the Sally Port early and made his way to Buckingham's quarters, where he learned the Duke was in conference with Monsieur Soubise, the Huguenot representative. After a confused buffet with some two score of captains and officers jostling for viands in a small room in which Soubise's own suite were also milling, Faulkner heard his name called. Summoned to Buckingham's side as he made to leave the room, the Duke introduced him to the King's secretary, Carleton, whom Faulkner recognized from the audience at Whitehall Palace. They had left the main room and were in the entrance lobby, approaching the door to the street where a coach waited for Buckingham. Having attended to the formalities, the Duke drew on his gloves, saying:

‘Captain Faulkner, be so kind as to conduct Mr Secretary Carleton to your
Whelp
, weigh anchor and carry him through the fleet, so that he may convey a report of our strength and preparedness to the King.'

Buckingham did not wait for an acknowledgement for he turned immediately to an officer on his far side. Faulkner was in the act of addressing Sir Edmund Carleton when he was shoved rudely aside. Losing his balance, he stumbled and swung round as a powerful man, having pushed Faulkner aside, plunged a knife into Buckingham's chest.

‘Villain!' cried the Duke, plucking the blade from his own body and falling back into the arms of those behind him as blood started from his breast and mouth. Cries of ‘Murder!' and ‘Assassin!' alerted the others, including the Duchess of Buckingham in the rooms above, so that she and her sister, the Countess of Anglesey, rushed on to the landing. Their screams added to the pandemonium below where Buckingham lay in his own gore, the life ebbing fast from him. As someone slammed the doors closed, others cried out for the whereabouts of the murderer and a man stepped forward.

‘I am he,' he said calmly, from the open door of the adjacent kitchen. At first few heard him in the hubbub and then Carleton grabbed Faulkner's arm.

‘Seize and hold him!' he said and, as others realized the man had confessed to his crime, the rasp of swords being tugged from their scabbards added to the uproar. Swiftly Faulkner, Carleton and several men surrounded the assassin and denied others the presumed right to summarily execute the murderer, who remained quiet and self-possessed throughout, until in due course, his victim having been declared dead, he was taken away in irons.

‘He did not deny it,' Faulkner subsequently told Mainwaring. Soon afterwards La Rochelle capitulated, only four of its fifteen thousand inhabitants remaining, most reduced to living skeletons thanks to their trust in King Charles and the Duke of Buckingham. As for those English seamen who had taken part, none held their heads high except perhaps John Felton, Buckingham's executioner.

‘He was a gentleman, a lieutenant owed arrears of pay for his services before La Rochelle and, so I am told,' explained Mainwaring, ‘a man who confessed the crime without torture, claiming he had killed the Duke so for God and this country . . .' Mainwaring shook his head. ‘They say that when brought to the Tower the people cheered him and set him up as David as opposed to Goliath, and when imprisoned in the Tower the Earl of Dorset threatened him with the rack if he did not reveal his accomplices. Do you know what he said?'

Faulkner shook his head.

‘“I am ready for that. But I must tell you that I will then accuse you, my Lord of Dorset, and none other.”'

‘I heard he was hanged at Tyburn,' Faulkner said.

‘Aye and is gibbeted at Portsmouth. The King wanted him racked but the Attorney-General demurred – he was too popular.'

‘What make you of such a man and such a deed, Sir Henry?' Faulkner enquired.

Mainwaring looked at Faulkner and saw in the question the deficiencies of the education that he had conferred upon his protégé. ‘John Felton preceded the executioner, Kit. Buckingham had far over-reached himself and his death by Felton's hand only puts off a day of coming evil. Parliament already had its hounds on My Lord Duke's trail and it was only a matter of time . . .' For some moments Mainwaring stared at Faulkner and then asked, ‘Are you still minded to make something of Bristol?'

Faulkner looked up. He had not considered the matter of his future since again laying up the
Whelp
at Deptford. ‘I do not know. I have connections here with the Trinity House and yourself, not to mention the
Perseus
 . . .' The image of Katherine Villiers floated into his mind's eye. Almost without thinking he asked, ‘What of Mistress Villiers? Have you heard of her?'

‘Mistress Villiers? Do you still yearn after her, Kit?'

‘I entertained some hopes . . .' he said in a low voice.

‘I understand that her cousin's fate has ensured that she stands high in the Queen's favour.' Mainwaring paused. ‘I think, Kit, she is beyond your grasp.'

‘I fear so.' Faulkner caught Mainwaring's eye. ‘In that case I shall make my way to Bristol, if the Trinity House will approve my decision.'

‘I have no doubt but that can be arranged. I am being pressed to stand for election as Master . . .'

‘And I hear that you are betrothed, Sir Henry,' Faulkner said with an assumed cheerfulness, ‘in which case allow me to drown my sorrows and drink to your health.'

‘Over a good dinner, Kit, after which you shall meet my bride-to-be.'

‘That I should very much like.'

Part Two

A Ship for the King

Seven

High Barbary

‘Is that Captain Faulkner?' Faulkner peered from beneath the wide brim of his hat from which the torrential rain poured as from a downpipe. Driven by a strong westerly wind the winter rain lashed the two men cruelly as they met in the narrow street. ‘Who asks?'

‘Captain William Rainsborough. It is Faulkner, is it not?'

‘Indeed it is, though one is like to meet the devil on such an evening.'

‘Aye. God help sailors on such a night.'

‘Amen to that. Do you have business with me, Rainsborough?'

‘I do . . .'

‘Shall we then adjourn; the King's Head is hard by.'

‘By all means, Faulkner, by all means. Anything to get out of this damnable rain.'

Inside the tavern Rainsborough threw off his sodden hat, gloves and cloak, shaking his long dark hair as he kicked out a stool from under a table. He was a well-made and imposing man whom Faulkner recalled from the Trinity House. They shook hands. ‘What brings you to Bristol, Captain?'

‘Please call me William. I know you to be a Younger Brother of the London House and that is partly why I am here.'

‘I am indeed, as I know you to be too. And, by the way, I am known to my friends as Kit.'

‘Well then, let us have a glass before I answer your question . . .'

‘Allow me, I am known here . . .' Faulkner called for wine and food as the two men drew up chairs as close to the fire as they could, though the tavern was not crowded that wet evening.

With a tankard in front of each of them Rainsborough said, ‘I am come to see you and ask you to join our expedition. I will be frank with you, I would rather have stayed in London where I have much to occupy myself, but in deference to Sir Henry Mainwaring's wishes I am here to solicit your assistance.'

‘I know of no expedition,' Faulkner replied. ‘Indeed the very word is like to numb me since I was associated with Buckingham's ill-fated expeditions to La Rochelle.'

‘Well this is no repeat of Buckingham's policy, though it is something that man might have undertaken with better effect upon the country and his own standing therein. No, we are intending an expedition to Sallee, to attack the pirates' stronghold there and break them so that they no longer terrorize our coasts. We have petitioned the King and he is in favour but, and with Our Gracious Majesty there is usually a but, there are insufficient King's ships ready, though two may be made available. This is a mercantile venture, an armed mercantile venture, though we will sail under the King's commission and therefore make of ourselves his servants for the purpose.'

‘And I assume the King wishes us to subsidize this expedition ourselves,' Faulkner said ruefully.

Rainsborough smiled and took a swig of his ale. ‘Not quite,' he answered after wiping his beard, ‘we provide the ships, the officers and men, but a portion of Ship Money will be placed at our disposal to fund contingent expenses plus the commissioning of such men-of-war as the royal dockyards yield.'

‘Ship Money is not a phrase to be talked of here in a loud voice.'

‘I was not aware of using a loud voice,' Rainsborough rejoined.

‘In a manner of speaking, I mean,' Faulkner said, aware that Rainsborough's bonhomie was conditional. ‘Though much of Bristol sides with the King, there are those who do object to such a tax. But what of me, William? Why dost though come all the way to Bristol to see me? Just because Sir Henry Mainwaring wished you to?'

‘In part, but also because the
Perseus
mounts twenty guns of heavy metal, we know you have her properly manned with a gunner and competent mates and we would have her in the squadron. As she is presently lying in the Pool I wanted a quick decision.'

‘Surely there are plenty of London ships mounting such artillery?'

‘Aye, but not many are owned by Brethren. Besides, she is a fine ship and we wish to charter her, preferably with you in command since her present master is unwell and has had no previous naval experience.'

‘I know him to be unwell, though not sufficiently indisposed to be replaced, which he will not like . . .'

‘Come, Kit, are you willing or no?'

Faulkner smiled. ‘Did you think that I was so rooted in this place that you could not winkle me out?'

‘I had heard you were comfortably placed. When a man has amassed a fortune he is reluctant to leave his hearth and his fortune in the hands of others. Besides, you are married, are you not? When a man marries he is less predictable.'

‘You have come a long way for a rejection, William, so out of fellow feeling I shall agree to join you, though I must contact my agent and arrange for such lading as is intended for the
Perseus
to be loaded aboard another vessel.'

‘Is that problem insuperable?'

Faulkner shook his head. ‘No. I have shares in a small brig named
Pegasus
and if I do not delay, matters may be satisfactorily arranged.'

‘I can take letters for London myself, if you wish.'

‘Good. Then that is settled. Now, tell me more . . .'

They fell to discussing details and were thus occupied until about nine o'clock, when the tavern door opened to reveal a sodden wet Nathan Gooding, anxiety writ large upon his face.

‘Kit! There you are; we were all wondering where on earth you had got to on such a night.'

‘Ah, Nat, I was on my way home when I encountered Captain William Rainsborough come especially from London to see me on business. William, this is my partner and brother-in-law, Nathan Gooding.' Rainsborough stood and the two men shook hands.

‘Julia was anxious about you,' Gooding said when they sat again and had ordered ale for him.

‘Julia worries overmuch,' Faulkner said.

There was an awkward silence and then Gooding, looking between the two men who showed little sign of moving, asked, ‘May I ask the nature of your business Captain Rainsborough?'

Rainsborough looked at Faulkner. ‘I think it best Kit tells you himself, Mr Gooding.'

‘Please, call me Nat.'

‘As you wish.'

Gooding now stared expectantly at Faulkner. ‘It concerns the London ship, Nat . . .'

‘The
Perseus
?'

‘Aye. Captain Rainsborough wishes to charter her as an armed merchantman on an expedition intended to punish the Sallee Rovers for their temerity in attacking our coasts.'

‘That is good news indeed. They have long been asking for a lesson and for too long have used Lundy Island as a lair.'

Faulkner explained the nature of the operation and its quasi-private status, pricking the bubble of Gooding's enthusiasm when he remarked at his conclusion that: ‘I shall myself be taking command . . .'

‘You . . . ?'

Faulkner nodded.

‘But I thought . . . Julia will not like this, Kit . . .'