The Moonless Night (7 page)

“What is the contingency plan if Bonaparte is landed elsewhere?” Benson asked, in a polite voice.

“He won’t be landed at all. I have my telescope up on Bolt’s Point, keeping a watch on him all day. If he gets off
Bellerophon
, we are after him immediately. This is just in case he is pushed up the estuary while being followed. No saying what turn events will take. But really he isn’t likely to get into the harbor at all, as I have the winch and chain oiled up and ready to stop him.”

“I have heard a good deal about that winch and chain and am most curious to see them,” Mr. Benson said with a pleasing promptness.

Before they could get away, Sir Henry had to point out that the guns were manned all day long.

“And at night?” Sanford asked.

“No point the fellows missing their sleep. They couldn’t see a target in the dead of night, but I keep a man posted twenty-four hours a day up in the tower, with a trumpet to rouse us if he spots anything. The men could be at their posts in ten minutes.”

“That should just about give Napoleon time to slip away on you,” Sanford remarked. “Where is this great winch and chain? Let us have a look at them.”

 “The chain is lying under the water there in the bay,” Sir Henry told him, reining in his temper. “Can’t see it of course. It is attached to that rock wall at the far side of the bay, imbedded firmly in concrete, stretching across the bay and finishing up inside that square tower there right behind you.”

Everyone turned to look at the stone tower that formed an integral part of the Hall. “May we see it, see how it works, Sir Henry?” Mr. Benson asked. Sanford had already taken a step towards it.

“I was about to show you. Come this way.” With a hasty step, Sir Henry got ahead of Sanford as they rounded the corner of the Hall, to enter a narrow doorway, descending first by wooden stairs to the ground level, then by broad rough stone steps into the very bowels of the building, into a large, damp, square chamber that was stone from high ceiling to floor. Set into the stonework was a sturdy double winch with handles for turning, and through a hole in the outer stone wall, a massive chain, each link the thickness of a man’s thumb, attached to the winch which was fed out into the bay.

“She’s lying slack now,” Sir Henry explained. “The chain lies along the bottom of the bay, and is raised by the winches to the surface, stopping all traffic. Makes as dandy a trap as you’d ever care for, and I can’t think why it isn’t used elsewhere. An ingenious thing, don’t you think, Lord Sanford?”

“Fascinating,” he agreed, staring at it, his tone more doubtful than enthusiastic.

“Could you show us how it works?” Benson inquired, more keen than the other guest.

“It’s not as hard a job as you’d think,” Sir Henry said, not averse to displaying the family treasure. “A single man can operate it, a good strong buck. Dave, if you’ll just get your shoulder to the winch wheel there.” David dashed forward and threw his weight into the task, succeeding after a good deal of effort and several grunts in getting it rolling. While he strained, his father spoke on.

“In the old days, fifteen hundreds, Edward VI used to contribute to its upkeep, realizing it was of national importance. Nowadays I bear the expense myself. You saw where the ships were harbored. Twenty yards seaward the chain is attached to the opposite wall—cutting out at an angle from the Hall, you see. It runs on a diagonal. If I raise my chain, not a ship enters the estuary. It’s priceless, this contraption. Invented by my ancestor, Sebastian Boltwood, in 1380. It’s older than the Hall. There was a fortress here previously, and this square part of the building we stand in is part of the old fortress. It’s not patented, my winch and chain. Anyone could have such a rig, but I believe mine is unique. More than once it has kept the enemy from our walls.”

“But the yachts there—they lie seaward of the chain, of course?” Sanford asked.

“No, sir, they are protected behind it,” he was told.

Sanford blinked in surprise, but Benson spoke out before he could cause further annoyance. He first bestowed some suitable praise on the chain, then asked, “What would happen if the chain broke?”

“It won’t,” he was told with assurance. “I’ve had the masonry on the far side inspected, and you can see it is in good repair here. Every link of the chain has been inspected by hand by me. I had it raised the day Bonaparte surrendered, and went out in the
Fury
to inspect it. It will hold. There is a new chain in that chest there,” he went on, pointing to a large wooden chest that stood by the winch. He lifted the lid to confirm his boast of a new chain. “Well, Lord Sanford, what have you to say about this?” he asked triumphantly.

“This is a dangerous contraption,” Sanford replied in a serious tone.

“Aye, not a ship will get past my chain,” Sir Henry agreed, mistaking Sanford’s words for approval.

“This must be dismantled at once,” was the next remark from the impossible earl.

He might as well have said the Parliament Buildings must be blown up, the Prince Regent assassinated, or Christianity abolished.
“Dismantled!!! Dismantled?”
Sir Henry bellowed, turning an alarming shade of reddish-purple. “Not a link of the Bolt Chain will be dismantled, sir. The defense of England is in its keeping.”

“God save England! The chain won’t,” Sanford said, his own voice rising to an unusual level. “Don’t you see, man, it is not Bonaparte’s intention to attack you? He has no notion of storming your garrison wall. It is his intention, presumably, to escape as quietly as possible. He won’t come blasting up the estuary with cannons roaring. Your chain will only prevent those seven yachts from getting out of the harbor to give chase.”

“The chain is not to keep us in, but to keep him out,” Sir Henry explained, still at top volume.

 “Does the chain know that?” Sanford asked with a blighting stare.

“The men operating it do. They know when to raise it and when to lower it I trust. They are not likely to raise it when I give them the signal we wish to leave the dock. They are not morons.”

“Thank God the men are not. But morons or not, it would take only one turncoat in your organization to sabotage the whole effort. One man at the winch could keep every ship tied up here. You must certainly cut that chain. It is the only safeguard. And get rid of that spare, too, or it might be replaced in time to do mischief.”

“Edward VI gave us that chain! Get rid of it? No, sir, I will not. And I won’t cut the chain, either.”

“Benson, you seem to have some influence, tell him,” Sanford said, turning with an impatient jerk towards Benson.

“I can’t agree with you, sir. If Napoleon is removed from the
Bellerophon
, he will in all probability make for land. He can’t land at Plymouth for the crowds. There is no good docking between Plymouth and here. It is Bolt’s Dock, the closest place, he will make for. The chain is an excellent precaution.”

“Good God, man, he won’t make for any dock or public place. He’ll have men on the clifftop with a rope slung down for him to be hauled up and disappear into the countryside. This chain is a menace. It must go.”

“The chain remains, sir,” Sir Henry said with an awful gaze, “to protect us when Napoleon tries to land.”

There was a most uncomfortable pause while the two uncompromising gentlemen glared at each other. Into the tense silence Mr. Benson said in a perfectly nonchalant tone, “Shall we go to have a look at the ingenious telescope now, Miss Boltwood?”

With a smile of gratitude for his tact, Marie agreed readily, very happy to escape Lord Sanford.

“I’ll go with you and see what mischief you’ve created there,” Sanford said in his rudest voice, which was very rude indeed.

Chapter 6

Sir Henry went back into his Hall, and the others went around to the stables. “I don’t have a spare hack,” David said in an angry tone to Sanford. “That is, I have offered my spare to Mr. Benson. She is a barb, a sweet goer.”

“I brought my own mount,” Sanford said, unoffended.

Marie stepped quickly forward to secure Mr. Benson’s company, but was soon out-talked by her brother. With a mount to be lent, he had Benson's ear to explain the animal’s excellence. Seemingly unaware of his unpopularity, Sanford turned to Marie. “What is Benson doing here?” were his first private words to her.

Unhappy to have been cheated out of a walk with the spy, she answered snippily, “He is a family connection, Lord Sanford. His presence wants less explaining than some other people’s.”

“Who else is putting up with you?” he asked at once.

“You are the only other guest,” she answered.

“And wished at Jericho, I assume, from your manner, but you must see that winch and chain are a wretched idea.”

“With your love of Napoleon, it must please you that the chain might allow his escape.”

“I don’t want him to escape. I hope there is no attempt to rescue him at all, but if there is, that chain will be damnably in the way. How do the authorities come to allow it?”

“Bolt Hall is private property, sir. My father’s private property, and if he wishes to put a chain under the bay, he shall do it.”

“The bay isn’t his private property. I’11 find out who owns the other side, where the chain ends.”

“The other side is Crown land, and we have a patent letter dating hundreds of years ago giving permission for the chain.”

This exchange of pleasantries saw them at the stable door.

When the mounts were led out, there was surprise on David’s face to see Lard Sanford’s mount, an Arab stallion, a thoroughbred with flaring nostrils, a wide, deep chest and neat legs.

“Nice bit of blood,” he was startled into saying, looking jealously at the animal.

“Thank you, I am a little particular about what I ride.” A passing glance to David’s own mount said without words that he saw the attitude was not mutual.

They set off together, the four of them. David was not about to admit there was a horse in the kingdom could outdistance his own, and by urging his gelding on relentlessly he managed to keep pace with Sanford, which pleased Marie very well as it gave her a chance to talk to Benson.

“What is Sanford doing here at this time?” he asked repeating the other man’s question regarding himself.

“Father is a close friend of Lord Bathurst. It is his being godson to Bathurst that accounts for it. How unfortunate he should have come.”

“He won’t find the company to his liking, Miss Boltwood. I don’t think you will be long saddled with him.”

“Who is he, anyway?”

“A member of the
ton
in London. A fashionable fribble. It is pretty clear he has come here to make mischief. He has no real interest in anything but parties and his jackets, and his various estates, of course.”

“I wish he would go on to Wight as he mentioned doing.”

“I hadn’t realized he owned a place there. His major seat is Paisley Park, in Devon, not far from Oakhurst, my own place. You must have read of it in the guide books. A huge heap, full of art-works. A bit of an art collector in his spare time, which is all of his time.”

“He is very unfriendly for a neighbor. He hardly spoke to you.”

“Oh, I am beneath his lordship’s touch. You will have noticed he holds himself very high. Thinks he owns the world.”

“That will not influence my father. He will not destroy the winch and chain.”

“We must see he does not. Such an excellent safeguard. You had no idea Sanford was coming to you? It was not arranged in advance?”

“No, I heard nothing of it.”

“I was afraid he meant to give me some competition,” Mr. Benson said with a rallying little smile that set Marie’s heart racing.

She looked at him with large, surprised eyes, holding a question. Biddy had said he had come to court her, implied it, and she blushed as it dawned on her that their spy might have two reasons in coming. “He is very disagreeable, is he not?” she asked.

“I find him so, as he is so much more eligible than myself. But then Sir Henry Boltwood’s daughter is not the vulgar sort to be dangling after a title, I trust.”

“Oh, no!” she assured him at once, with a ravishing smile.

Unfortunately, Lord Sanford chose that moment to draw his mount to a halt and await the others. David came up to Benson to point out to him the excellent view they were approaching. They continued four abreast towards the telescope.

“This is too far from the Hall to be of any use,” Sanford said, looking behind him down the hill to the Hall. “How do you communicate if your man happens to spot anything suspicious?”

“The lookout runs down the hill,” David told him.

“Where is his horse?”

“He doesn’t have a horse. He runs down on foot,” David answered, hardly able to keep a civil tongue in his head. Then he dismounted, as did they all, and with a pointed look at Sanford, he offered Benson first look out of the telescope.

Benson shut his eye to it and looked out to sea, where the
Bellerophon
was visible, surrounded by many smaller craft. Behind him, Sanford looked around the point. “Those bushes there offer excellent concealment for anyone wishing to knock out your guard,” he said to David. “You ought to have set it up in a clear spot.”

“Pity you hadn’t been here to tell us how to go about it,” David answered.

“It certainly is. It will have to be moved.”

“It isn’t being moved. It took us three hours to get it up, and it’s staying right here,” David said, in much the voice of his father.

“Cut down the bushes then,” Sanford advised him.

With roughly an acre of brambles and thorn bushes to be done away with, this speech was taken for pure ill humor. David turned away before he could utter some unforgivable rudeness. Benson, turning from the telescope remarked, “I make it over a hundred boats there, out on the water. Plenty of chance for mischief.”

“The very number ensures safety,” Sanford contradicted.

“No one would be foolish enough to attempt a rescue with a hundred witnesses standing by.”

“They most of them leave at night, and naturally the rescue will be attempted at night. Anyone should know that much,” David said curtly.