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The Bassingtons decided to arrive for the wedding a week early, being available to assist if needed. David and Jennifer planned on hiring a coach and enjoying the sights of Guildford with Neville and Bethany before the big day. 

Jennifer explained, “He has been in the Navy so long, and we have hardly seen him in many years. Now he has resigned, and with practices in Guildford and Harley Street, it is a new chapter for us. Once they are married, time with Neville and Bethany will be a delightful luxury. David is also considering purchasing a country house as he feels a great attraction for Guildford.” 

Eleanora was thrilled that Neville’s parents would provide them with support in their new married life.

“I hope you will spend time with Jonathan and me as well. The family often has an afternoon tea picnic beside the river on a Sunday, which has always proved popular with the children and guests. I do hope you can join us.”

“That would be wonderful, Eleanora; it would be a welcome new experience for us.”

HMS Restless …

As the crew assembled, Alexander Steele stood slightly behind the captain on the quarter-deck. There was complete silence except for officers shouting orders and a steadily increasing southwesterly buffeting the limp sails as Restless stood into the wind. Although the First Officer briefed Alexander, he was uncomfortable being present at such a time. Today, the administration of naval law at sea was a frightening prospect for him.

Robert considered the words he would use carefully. The situation was critical. He must contain this crew before it became mutinous. The Admiral gave him specific orders, but it was one thing to issue orders and another to implement them. Discipline in the navy was often only maintained by brute force – a situation he would prefer to avoid. But now, it must be done, as the crew needed a demonstration that spying and mutiny would not be tolerated. Hopefully, for the crew members considering backing the traitors, a demonstration of strict discipline would make them think twice before following the rebels. There was no choice; he must make an example of Able Seaman Cobb. 

Seeing every eye on him, he breathed in, steadying himself, and spoke in a strong, clear voice.   

“Men of His Majesty’s Ship Restless. A court of inquiry found Able Seaman Cobb guilty of treason and attempted stealing of confidential papers from the captain’s cabin.” 

Robert took a deep breath and let the words sink in.

“The first charge is a capital offence. As Captain of HMS Restless and acting on the authority of His Majesty’s Government, the guard detail will execute Seaman Cobb immediately from the yardarm.”

A cry from Cobb echoed through the ship, “No, No, Captain, it is a mistake!”

“Silence the prisoner, Mr Small!” Robert felt quite sorry for the seaman as this was the harshest penalty military justice imposed. There was no choice, given his orders from the Admiral. He was fully aware the crew contained mostly tough men who would not hesitate to take advantage if they felt their Captain was weak. In this situation, he must be as strong as iron.

Alexander Steele stood silently, watching them gag the prisoner, and then a noose dropped over his head and was fixed. With quick naval discipline, the seaman was hoisted by the neck high above the deck in clear view for all. He kicked and struggled for a few seconds, and then he lay limp as he lost consciousness. The silence on the deck where the crew stood shouted up at Robert. He looked down at them and could find not one eye meeting his.  

The captain held the crew there in complete silence for five minutes. He wanted them, especially the traitors, aware of the penalty for further treasonous actions. As an officer, Robert detested capital punishment. Now, he was fighting for his life and, for the first time, understood how essential it was on a naval ship. Unfortunately, Robert knew this would not end until they weeded out the traitors. If not, he might be the one suffering their vengeance next. A chill ran down his back as he looked out at the expressionless faces of the men. His intuition told him that many would now be considering revenge.  

Robert breathed deeply before speaking, “Officers and men of HMS Restless! Gentlemen, Able Seaman Cobb has paid the ultimate price for treason.” Once again, he allowed a short silence as these words sank in. “Let me make this quite clear! This ship is in the service of His Majesty King George the Fourth and his Government. We serve our King and Government without question. Your King expects this loyalty from you today. Any crew member who fails this duty may expect the same penalty as Able Seaman Cobb.”

Once again, Robert paused to let the words sink in.

“I expect the total loyalty of every crew member that you serve our King and Country with honour. God save the King!”    

The Officers and crew came to attention with a resounding shout, “God save the King!”

“Mr Small, please?”

The first lieutenant joined the captain on the poop deck. 

“Leave the body up there until we finish our drill. Action stations, please, Mr Small, and a practice broadside, each side in turn.”

“Aye, Sir.”

“You may proceed, Mr Small.”

Small cupped his hands over his mouth and yelled, “Hands to stations, All men to Stations. Prepare for action. Open the canon ports. Man, your canons!”

The crew dashed in all directions for their stations. While it looked like pandemonium, each crew member knew their position precisely.

“Mr Trotters, get your men aloft and make way! Have the helmsman bring her around downwind and raise the battle standard.”

“Aye, Sir.”

The ship was transforming into a battle state. There was yelling everywhere as the men opened cannon ports, priming and loading cannons and checking the cannon ropes. Slowly, the officers barking out orders ceased. When all was ready, there was silence. The first lieutenant waited for the captain’s order. 

“Mr Small, you may proceed.” 

“Starboard team, Fire!”

The junior officer leading the starboard team yelled as loudly as possible, “Fire!”

Restless rocked, absorbing the recoil. Smoke drifted up over the rails and passed over the deck.  

Alexander Steele watched Robert and saw him as far different to his previous acquaintance. He initially considered him a nice young man receiving an advantage by birth. This demonstration now corrected his opinion of Robert. This Captain was made of iron and would take no nonsense. He stood there without a movement as the whole process took place. This man would achieve his goals and tame this crew very quickly. Heaven help any man who disobeyed him. Sir Robert South knew precisely what he was doing and would achieve the required results no matter what stood in his way.

“Port team Fire!”

The ship rocked again in the other direction, and the smoke blew out in anger. 

“Thank you, Mr Small, well done. The crew may return to duties. Please assemble the fore team for practice immediately. Once the hour passes, have the sailmaker ready seaman Cobb’s body for a funeral. Following the testing of the canons with Mr Steele, I will lead the service.”

“Aye, Sir.” 

The captain then politely beckoned Alexander Steele forward for the canon testing. Alexander nodded and made his way towards the bow.

“Mr Bright, bring my telescope, please, if you would. You will find it in my cabin.”

McPherson Household, Greenwich …

Jonathan perused the breakfast buffet, eyeing what was available as Jenkins came in,” Morning Jenkins – just surveying the offering. It all looks splendid.”

“Thank you, Sir. Would you prefer tea or coffee, Mr Turner? Now or later? There is also juice available on the sideboard, Sir.” 

“I think I will start with juice and fruit, Jenkins, and leave the coffee for later – perhaps when the others are down. Now tell me, I am considering the employment of a butler. My business interests and family are expanding, so the house regularly seems to be in chaos. It is all getting well beyond my housekeeper and her assistant. Pray, where does one find a good butler?”

Jonathan and Jenkins then spent several minutes discussing the attributes of a good butler and the appropriate house plan required. 

“I shall keep that in mind when I look for another house. Thank you. Now for some breakfast.”

Eleanora and Marjorie entered together at the end of the conversation. 

“What will you keep in mind, Jonathan?” Eleanora enquired.

“Jenkins and I have discussed how a house works best with service staff. He gave me a few good pointers, which are most helpful.” 

Marjorie McPherson’s eyes sparkled, and she said, “Why, Jonathan, are you thinking of employing a butler?”

“Yes, the thought is becoming more attractive, but from my discussion with Jenkins, he has persuaded me that our house’s design is unsuitable.” Jonathan drank from his glass of juice and continued. “Given the renovations required would be most extensive with our existing house, I am now considering purchasing or leasing a more suitable residence. So, we will discuss various concepts during our trip home.”

“Jonathan, I am surprised. But what would we do with our existing house?”

“Guildford is expanding, my Dear. We could rent it out quite easily.”  

Marjorie was becoming excited, “This is wonderful news, Jonathan. Now tell me all about what type of house you might prefer. I may be of some assistance!”

And so, the conversation continued over breakfast, with the ladies suggesting numerous options for Jonathan’s consideration. He was content as it allowed him time to enjoy a hearty breakfast. 

Later in the morning, as the ladies embarked on a shopping trip for wedding presents, Jonathan and Hamish relished the freedom, allowing time for business discussion.

Hamish shared the first month’s trading figures for the Epsom pub with his guest. 

“Jonathan, the figures are strong. Look at how sales go up when there is a race meeting. If we build more luxurious accommodation for the upper class, we might do very well. But we will let it run for a year and see how we go.”

Jonathan agreed, “The sales are more than I expected! What are the margins, Hamish? How much are we making?”

Despite his business experience, Jonathan Turner was not gifted at interpreting financial statements and relied heavily on Anne for analysis and explanation. She would spot a trend or a mistake in seconds. 

“If you look here, we are making a margin of around two hundred and forty-three per cent. So, in the first month, we cleared around eleven thousand pounds. Now don’t forget that this does not include our capital and start-up costs, which were around forty thousand pounds. By February or March next year, we should recover our capital investment. And remember, Jonathan, we are not trading with all our businesses yet. Once the fast carts are running, the revenue will increase again.”

“This will be a good business, Hamish. I am encouraged indeed!”

“So, you should be Jonathan; this business will make a fortune for you and me in the next five years. But we will not stop at Epsom. I have found another site at Reading, but first, we should discuss your home at Guildford.”

Jonathan was not expecting this and looked up from the figures straight at Hamish’s face. “I was unaware you knew I might be looking for a new home?” 

Hamish smiled, “I was not. It’s about your existing place of residence.” 

“What about my home, Hamish?”

“Jonathan, as you know, I have extensive interests in Scotland and England, and market information is essential. Not only from a financial viewpoint but also from a community profile. I need background and current information on the community’s current situation, keeping abreast of changes.”

Jonathan was all ears, thinking this may resolve Anne and his concerns about the McPhersons. 

“When I first discovered Guildford before we met, I engaged a person who shall remain nameless for a good reason to provide reliable local information. This person provided me with factual details to assist my decision-making. Be assured everything reported on your business dealings was of good standing. Indeed, I reinforced the statement through my friendship with you and your family. 

As your business interests expand, I suggest you employ similar methods. You cannot be everywhere at once. You will need help. Also, it is dog-eat-dog in business, so you need trustworthy friends.”

This revelation added up - it was what Jonathan expected. “I thought you had a contact in Guildford that fed information. You knew facts before they became knowledge here.”

Hamish blushed, “I apologise if you thought I was spying on you. But it was all business, and it reinforced what I believed. I’m sure you have done your background checks on me. I think the business term is due diligence!”

Jonathan nodded in agreement. 

“A message came yesterday concerning your home in Guildford. Another message has arrived since then. I deferred advising you until this morning as all are safe and no damage has been done. If we had spoken earlier, Eleanora might have become alarmed unnecessarily!”

“What do you mean no damage done, Hamish?”

“On Friday night or early Saturday morning, little William discovered some burglars in the house. They broke in and tied and gagged the domestic staff before searching the house. William surprised them in the parlour, and they knocked him out with a head blow. He is alright! Doctor Sopwith was called and has visited several times to check on him. He is fine.”

Jonathan was overly concerned, “William has a habit of walking around at night. I think he is a light sleeper. Thank goodness there is no long-term damage done to him!”

“It seems William disturbed the burglars, who then panicked and rushed to search the house for their target. They searched the younger girls’ rooms and entered Anne’s room when she awoke and called out. They must have taken fright, ran, and escaped from the back door. However, there is one bit of bad news.”

Jonathan, now alarmed, cried, “No, not Anne, please God!”

“No, she is fine, but they killed the dog, so he would not warn anyone. The children will be sad about this. They are all safe and well, and a guard has been placed on the house until you return. They are all safe, Jonathan! Anne is handling the situation well with the assistance of your new bakery manager, Jeb…. “

“Hiscock.”

“Hiscock, that’s right! Eleanora’s health is the most important thing, so you should continue with your plans, leaving tomorrow morning and stopping at Ewell again on the way home.”

“My goodness, I had no idea. This news changes everything. I shall need a new house that is more secure!”

“Jonathan, there is more. Please allow me five more minutes. As Eleanora is out with Marjorie, you have the time.”

What else would Hamish say? The news of the burglary rattled Jonathan. He must advise Eleanora as soon as she returns. 

“If it is not urgent, Hamish, it can wait. I must prepare an explanation of this for Eleanora.”

“Jonathan, is that wise? She will only worry herself sick. Wait until the journey home. I’m sure Richard will break the news tomorrow when you reach Ewell. Why make her worry for all that time? It will not help her health.”

“Yes, I see, and you say they are all safe and well? “

“Yes, and your people have set up a guard for the house until you return. I have my contact there working in the background. Your family is safe!”

“Thank you, Hamish.”

“Now, let me tell you another story. I think these details will explain the burglary.”

Jonathan was interested and regained his focus.

“There is a lot of money involved in the brewing business. There are two types of investors: the aristocracy and the new entrepreneurs like you and me. I have learnt from bitter experience that competition is warlike. Developing a new chain of pubs is like declaring war on those already operating in the industry. So, there can be deep resentment and underhand activities that frustrate investment. There have been death threats against me and various destabilising attempts on my businesses. That is why I employ security staff and have a system of informers wherever I go. It may seem underhand, but it simply collects information to protect our business interests. Also, it protects against any threat to my safety!”

“You mean a murder attempt?”

“Yes, in Scotland, as we established pubs in one area, the population responded well as they found we sold a better beer at a lower price. The existing brewers feared our competition. Early one morning, they set our house on fire as we slept. I then realised this was not a game but a war. For safety and the development of the business, we decided to relocate to Greenwich until the situation settled, which it has. The boys have remained relatively out of sight and ensure the business keeps a low profile while we still develop. However, the pub network in Scotland is nearly established and accepted. Hopefully, there will be no more dirty tricks. But in England, we will face a similar problem in time. The advantage of Greenwich is that there are more lawmakers down here, more protection.”

“Do you think our relationship resulted in the burglary?”

“I don’t just suspect it. I’m sure of it!”

“But why?”

“Jonathan, the brewing business involves the making of fortunes. Consider how many people drink good old English beer - about every man in England! The economic times are of no consequence; most men visit the pub every night. English beer is their second wife. Why do you think breweries are so large? It is a huge industry. The government love the tax we provide, swelling their coffers. The brewer does not complain as we pass this cost on to the customer. We still make our margins. But we are talking about fortunes. Why would someone making a fortune allow new entrants into their patch? Would you?”

“No, but I would not break the law. I understand what you are saying! I expect trouble when my new flour mill starts in February. There are already murmurings about how many it will put out of work. I think your idea about security is a sound one. But what were they looking for?”

“I think our business plans. They probably found the property deeds and drawings in your desk, but you will remember I returned the other documents here for safekeeping. They want information on where we will purchase or build pubs. Also, they are interested in how much beer we plan on selling.”

“I see. And you say that these people think nothing of breaking the law?”

“Nothing! Large amounts of money attract some of the worst types.” 

“So, Hamish, is your house here secure?”

“Yes, that is one of Jenkins’ duties. We have the dogs; you have seen them, but there are other measures. I am sorry that I did not brief you on this before. It may have saved you from this burglary. But it has occurred now and cannot be changed. Perhaps in good time, consider another house off the High Street with better security. After all, Guy Fawkes night is coming up, which will be another excuse for them.”

“You are right; that night is growing worse. We have built a fence in front of the church to stop the vandalism. Our Parish Constable and his watchmen are not much use. They don’t have the resources they need for policing. I will think about a new house once we have all this capital expenditure out of the way. The cash flow from the new mill will be important. It is good news that the Epsom pub is doing so well. That will help.”

“Jonathan, if I were you, I would rent a house at first. See if it is suitable. Plan for a quicker move and defer any major outlay on a purchase. If you ever need cash, let me know. We can arrange an advance. I have done very well and have ample reserves set aside. As business partners, we can assist each other.”

“Thank you, Hamish, that is kind but not necessary. The bakery business in Guildford is thriving, and sales are still increasing. With improvements in productivity through new ovens and the new milling process, I expect profits will increase further. The business has blessed us. I am hopeful our joint ventures will show a similar profit.”

“Jonathan, just a note for your diary. When you negotiate with the landowners for more grain, let me know. Let’s work together on these negotiations. Together, we will have strong negotiating power. It’s something these landowners will understand.”

“I like that Hamish. When we meet again in two weeks, we will discuss this.” 

“When will you set up your tailor’s shops in London, Jonathan? I hear Hurst’s is doing well.”

“Yes, that is true, but I only have two eyes, and they are both busy presently. Hurst’s will continue as it is for the time being. Perhaps another shop in 1828. You may be interested in investing. Let us wait until then. I must concentrate on successfully operating these other ventures first.”

“That is what I like about you and Thomas, your focus. I wish my sons had it. They can go astray at times. Now, what about Eleanora? Will you tell her or wait until tomorrow?”

“I think you are right. Let Eleanora sleep well tonight. I will explain when we reach Ewell. She will be angry by the delay in being told, but everyone is safe, and we will be only a night away, so that may calm her. And now Hamish, I think I will take my drink with me and have a quiet time in the garden. There is much to consider!”

“Jonathan, you are correct. It becomes more and more complicated the more money that is involved. I’m sorry I held back from advising you, but I was keen that everyone had a relaxing time here. I apologise again.”

“Thank you, Hamish. We understand each other far better now than half an hour ago.”

Jonathan left the room and headed for the garden. Hamish sat back in his study chair. He thought, “If only I could tell you everything, Jonathan, but it is complicated and not the time yet. I hope my men in Guildford find these burglars first before the police.” 

Fintelton Manor, outside Petersfield …

Sir Hugh South entered the dining room, joining his father. They dined alone as Lady Jane and Emma were now in London on one of their regular shopping trips. The autumn evening glow faded quickly, and the servants lit the long table’s candles. Outside, the western sun was diving below the horizon, sending up yellow and reddish rays, painting the light clouds with a tinge of crimson. 

The Earl welcomed his eldest son, “Good day in the fields, Hugh?”

In no mood for conversation, Hugh grunted as he took a bottle from the drinks cabinet and poured himself a large scotch whisky. Slumping into a chair opposite his father, he took a thirsty gulp. 

“It was hot out there today. Far hotter than it has been. I thought autumn was coming, but the hot days have come back. Summer is extending into autumn this year. I needed this drink!”

“How did the sowing go on the low fields?” the Earl persisted. 

“Ours is all done, but some tenant farmers are dragging their feet. I will send men down tomorrow and give them some help. They were late harvesting and now late sowing.

With labour prices increasing and their children working in the city, they no longer manage well. Some may fail soon; perhaps we should retake their tenancies.”

“Sounds like me, Hugh. Will you throw me off as well?”

“Father, I didn’t mean that! You know what I mean. We need as many winter cereals as we can harvest before the spring sowing. That supplement is now quite important for our cash flow!”

“We have other income, Hugh, from the Indies. There are ten farms out there that you have never visited. They bring in a handsome income which could be improved. It is time you went out there and understood the business. Also, do not forget the estates in Scotland and Ireland. You should visit them as I have not been there in years.”

“I have no interest in that plague-infested Jamaica. Let the attorneys look after them, and as far as Scotland and Ireland, perhaps one day I will visit. I am of more use being here, Father. If the tenant farmers let us down, we could lose a third of our income. Wheat farming does not change – it is just hard work, and some of these long-term tenancy farmers have grown too old. It is nature, Father! If we farmed it ourselves – we would make far more money.”

As the next Earl of Fintelton, Hugh believed he understood the sources of the estate’s income. He was an intelligent man and, from an early age, took an interest in the farming of cereals. The other estates were irrelevant to him, and he had no intention of changing his mind. There was no need for change while the corn laws kept prices up and tenant farmers maintained their production. But over the last few years, a consistent decrease in production continued. 

The problem was better employment in the northern cities. The higher wages in the towns attracted the younger workers. The tenants now paid for labour, whereas their children’s work was previously free. The corn laws kept the price of grain up and helped raise enough revenue for the tenant’s subsistence. But now, with the labour costs, there was little left to pay their rent and feed their families. They would cut back on hired help, decreasing their production. It was becoming an impossible life for the older tenants who had no alternative. 

“We need a better solution than throwing them off their plots, Hugh. I have been friends with many of these men for years, and I will not throw them off.”

“Father, we may have no choice if there is a bad harvest next spring; the tenant farmers may be unable to afford their rents. Many of them are well behind now, and if they have a bad harvest next August, it will be increasingly difficult for them and us. Remember, Father, we must cover our costs and pay our taxes!”

The Earl was not impressed, “We have been through tough times before and survived; it will be the same again.”

Hugh felt he should remind his father of their financial situation but held his tongue. It was no use! Steeped by tradition, his father had already made the decision. 

He changed the subject, “Father, who are these people in Guildford that Mother and Emma welcome into our society?”

“I thought you joined them at dinner last Friday night.”

“I was indisposed and retired early.”

“Ah! I understand the young lady was a friend of Emma’s. I’m unsure what the connection is, but your mother assured me they were respectable people. I’m sure we will hear more on their return.”

“On the night of the dinner, someone broke into their house. In the morning, mother requested that I accompany her and check with the police to see if we could assist. The house was on the High Street and a decent size, with a raised ground floor and two upper levels. The burglars left the ground floor in quite a mess. Mother and Emma attended to the young lady, checked her safety, and ate breakfast at the house. The father left the young lady in charge while he and his wife were in London.”

The Earl looked up, “You mean the Countess and Emma took breakfast at their house on the High Street?”

“Yes, I thought it a bit peculiar, but there were servants and mother and Emma remained long after I left. Doctor Sopwith was there also, and he advised me that Emma was a good friend of this young lady. But I have never heard of them before. I passed the kitchen, where they were all having breakfast, and Emma brushed a child’s hair. I believe the young lady’s name is Anne Turner. Sopwith said they are a respected family. The father is the chairman of the Parish Council at one of the churches there. That’s right! – Taggart and his wife were at dinner.”

“How did you know that if you had retired?”

“I dropped in on the gathering before giving my apologies.”

Lord Fintelton sat back and thought about what Hugh told him. Confused, he tried recalling any connections named Turner. The only one the Earl remembered was that painter fellow recommended to him. He sold him a strange painting that he had never hung. He could not recall the acquaintance of any other Turners. Perhaps Emma made the acquaintance at finishing school or through the church. He was not sure. The Earl finished his main course of mutton and vegetables and asked Pike for tea. The butler brought him over a full cup.

“I’m finding it difficult to remember all these social connections. Your mother and Emma will tell us all about it when they return. If Taggart and his good wife were there, they must be respectable people. I think I will visit some of the tenant farmers tomorrow. Will you come with me? We can discuss with them why they are late sowing the crop.”

“Thank you, Father, but I have some appointments in Petersfield. I will be interested in what you find out. Take Stem with you. He is aware of the problems and may make valuable suggestions.” Hugh would not waste his time, thinking, ‘Not that they will take any notice, but it is worth a try.’

He took another swig of his scotch and watched his father finish dinner. Mulling over the event in Guildford, he wondered why his mother would be so bold and take breakfast in a commoner’s house. It was just not done. Now that his head had cleared from his last binge, he felt far more robust than the mess he was in on the previous Saturday. He might pay Mayor Rupert Smith a visit in Guildford tomorrow for lunch to see if he could learn more about these Turners. The mayor would be well-informed and might shed some light on the connection. Also, he knew an inn in Guildford with some fine wenches. That was far more enticing than talking with the mayor. ‘Better do the mayor first; might need more time for the wenches later!’    

“Father, I will join you at breakfast tomorrow morning, but I will be away overnight. I will return Thursday and have dinner with you.”

The Earl was miles away, thinking about something else while enjoying his cup of tea.

Hugh sighed, understanding that his father’s hearing was deteriorating, “Pike, please remind the Earl at dinner tomorrow night. I will be away, and I will be back on Thursday. After a few business appointments, I will also call on Doctor Sopwith.”

“Thank you, Sir. I will remind your father.”

The Turner Household, Guildford …

Anne finished her Wednesday morning work at the bakery and was having tea with William and Constable Rawlins at home. Constable Rawlins was a tall, well-built, middle-aged man with a friendly smile. Anne noticed the respect William gave him as he asked his questions. 

“William, I am glad you are in good health. We were all anxious until Surgeon Sopwith gave us the all-clear. I take it there have been no after-effects from the blow?”

“What are the after-effects?”

“Headaches, dizziness, memory loss – the usual things that come from a knock on the head.”

“Not that I have felt. The headaches went on Sunday, and the light has not affected my eyes since then. I think I am fine. Can I still be a page boy at Bethany’s wedding?” 

Anne was about to reassure him when the Constable came in with a bit of a bluff, “It depends on how much you can tell us about the burglars. You are the only one who saw them. But we might let you be a pageboy if you gave us a good description.”

William shrank back in fear and blurted out, “I can describe one of the robbers, but the other one who hit me came from behind, and I never saw him. I can’t describe him. Does that mean I can’t go to the wedding?”

Anne saw that the boy had missed the humour and feared he was in trouble, “William, Constable Rawlins is just funny. Of course, you will be a page boy at the wedding. It is alright – please tell him about the man you saw!”

“It was dark, but I would recognise the old man anywhere. His eyes were close together, and he had a long nose. I can draw it if it helps. His hair was curly brown with a few streaks of grey. He was about five feet, four inches tall, about twelve inches taller than me. He wore long grey working pants with a belt of rope, like what navy sailors wear, and his shirt was a soft flannel blue and worn – with some holes. He was old. I am unsure of his age, but he was very sunburnt and weathered.”

Constable Rawlins was writing as William spoke. He was amazed that a young child could give such an accurate description.

“Also, there was a big scar on the back of his neck in his hair. I think it was a scar, but perhaps it was a burn mark.”

Anne looked up with a frown as soon as William said this. She, too, had seen this man! 

“That’s a good description, William. I think you may attend the wedding. Ha, Ha.” Constable Rawlins was the only one laughing. However, William was most satisfied with the Constable’s comment. “Now, the fact that this man carried a scar will make him stand out. This description helps a lot, William. Are you certain of this? Your description is detailed, so if it goes before a Magistrate, he will ask you how you could see so well in the dark?”

“I saw him twice in the days before. I noticed him watching the house. He was sitting across the road at the side of an alley. Then I saw him again as I followed him towards Abbot’s Hospital. That’s where he disappeared.”

“I see.”

Anne then remembered where she had seen this man. It came as a shock.

“Constable, I have seen this man today! While walking home from the bakery, he crossed High Street at the corn market near Tunstall Gate. He was only five steps in front of me. It was in a crowd, so he would not have noticed me. I remember because of the scar or burn mark on his neck. It is something that does stand out.”

Constable Rawlins was silent, then asked, “How long since you came home?”

“About an hour.”

The policeman’s mind was racing. This sighting meant that the burglars were still here in town. Perhaps they were local lads, but he did not recall anyone with this mark on the back of the neck. But there were so many new people in Guildford. The place was growing too quickly for his liking.

“Miss Anne, I think I shall go now and have a look for this fellow in the corn market. Please keep the doors locked and keep William inside and out of sight. I am unsure what is happening, but if William can identify this fellow, he may cause trouble. We should not let this happen. When is your father home?”

“Tomorrow – they stop at Ewell tonight on their way back from London.”

“I will send a message by express. I would prefer if Mr Turner were home with you. I take it he will be visiting his brother’s pub there?”

“Yes. They often discuss business.”

“I will request they travel here directly, and you should expect their arrival late tonight. I will be back later this evening to assist the guard. The fact that this man and possibly the other burglar are still in town is disturbing. Please keep the doors locked and not let anyone in before the housekeeper identifies them.”

Anne was not comfortable with these arrangements. 

“Surely, Constable, they would not try again. Why?”

“Not sure, Miss Anne, but they are still in town if you saw him less than an hour ago. Who knows what they are planning next? The good thing is, he doesn’t know we have a description of him.”

The Constable gathered his notebook and equipment, excused himself and headed for the door. 

McPherson Household, Greenwich …

Marion and Thomas’s wedding arrangements were now well advanced, and the stay at Greenwich allowed both families some input. Eleanora resigned herself that Marjorie had completed the arrangements already, but she was thankful as she would have struggled to assist due to her poor health.  

Before they travelled off for Guildford, words of thanks were passed on, “Thank you, Marjorie, for all the work you have put in. It will be a marvellous wedding, and I am so thankful for all your efforts. Please send a message as soon as you arrive for Beth’s wedding. We will arrange a dinner and talk more then. And thank you so much for your hospitality.”

“Now, Eleanora, take care of yourself and that little one coming. We will be there a few days in advance.”  

The coach quickly entered the suburbs of London and headed for the Bassingtons, where they would pick up Bethany and Neville. Jonathan felt that it was time he advised Eleanora of the burglary. 

“Eleanora, Hamish received a note yesterday advising there was a burglary at our house. All the children are unhurt, safe and well. It happened on Friday night, and since then, the police placed a guard at home, ensuring their safety.”

Eleanora was stunned and without words as she took in the news. 

“You mean all this time we have been at the Bassingtons and McPhersons, Anne has been dealing with this, and we were unaware?”

“Yes, Hamish told me late yesterday afternoon, and we decided it was better if you rested last night without worry. Today, we make the first leg of our journey home. They will be safe until we arrive there tomorrow.”

“No, Jonathan, we must arrive home today. You say they are all safe. But the burglars must have been in the house while the children were asleep. Poor Anne, how she must be suffering from all this. It must have occurred on the same night as the dinner. Jonathan, we must hurry home today. We cannot stay at Ewell; we must hurry on!”

“Let us see the time when we arrive in Ewell. It is a long way by carriage, and I am mindful of your condition, Eleanora.”

“Hang my condition, Jonathan! We must reach home today!”

At Guildford …

Sir Hugh South arrived at the mayor’s office around eleven-thirty Wednesday morning. He stayed overnight at the White Rabbit in Petersfield, enjoying some entertainment. After twenty-five miles of a difficult road, the horse was exhausted, and Sir Hugh welcomed the sight of Guildford. Stabling his horse at the Fox and Hound, he made his way to the mayor’s office. Rupert Smith welcomed the next Earl of Fintelton with open arms. It was to the mayor’s advantage to have this young gentleman’s society of noble birth. 

“Mr Mayor, I understand this is short notice, but I wonder if you would join me for lunch at one o’clock at the Fox and Hound. I need your advice on some matters.”  

Rupert agreed at once, never missing the opportunity of a free lunch and furthering his society. He would rearrange his appointments as Sir Hugh honoured him with his visit. 

Sir Hugh ensured a side table where they could talk freely at lunch. Rupert was disappointed, preferring a more prominent position, allowing his constituents a far better view. However, given Sir Hugh was paying, he did not object. 

“Thank you, Rupert, for accepting my invitation; it has been some time since we last spoke. I have some business in Guildford and required advice on several matters, but before that, I am unfamiliar with one family in town.”

“Certainly, Sir Hugh, how may I be of assistance.”

“The Turner family. I believe Mr Turner is a baker, and the family reside in town. Are you acquainted with them and of their circumstances, please?”

“Certainly, Sir Hugh, but may I ask first why you require this information so I may provide the most appropriate detail?”

“Sir, the situation is delicate, and I would ask for your confidentiality and trust in this matter. My mother, the countess, has befriended them, and my father and I are unsure of their society. While we are sure the relationship is proper, my father and I thought you were the best person for reference.” 

Rupert Smith sat back and thought about this intimate request. He was not aware of the Turner’s acquaintance with Lady Fintelton. He recalled that a friend of Doctor Bassington, Sir Robert South, attended church with the family on one occasion, probably because of the son’s close friendship with the doctor and not any acquaintance with the Earl’s family. The society of the countess was a surprise. Being a politician, he immediately realised that he should be careful as Jonathan Turner was a man of influence in this town. The son of the Earl was, of course, influential in society but not that important in business here, as their estate was outside Petersfield, some distance from Guildford. The Fintelton Estate provided some local mills with grain – perhaps this was an area of interest to Sir Hugh.

“Sir Hugh. There are three things I can tell you quickly about the Turners. They are respectable people, and my son Richard has grown in the company of the two Turner boys, Simeon and William. Both are fine young fellows. The father, Jonathan Turner, has a large baking business in Guildford, also serving some outlying towns. Jonathan Turner is the chairman of our parish council. I am a member myself! I have never heard anything but favourable comments about him and his family. They also have other business interests, which I shall elaborate on later.”

“Other businesses? Not just a bakery?”

“Yes, and the bakery is a massive undertaking, employing many townsfolk.”

“I see.”  

“You may be aware that Surgeon Neville Bassington and Bethany Turner, Jonathan’s daughter, are engaged and will be married here the weekend after this.”

“Yes, I am aware of Neville and the coming wedding.”

“One of Neville Bassington’s good friends, of course, is your brother, Sir Robert. He has visited Guildford on several occasions with Neville. I believe he is the best man. I assume we will have the pleasure of you attending as well. Perhaps it is because of the friendship of Surgeon Bassington, who I believe is a friend of your family, that your mother has made the acquaintance.”

“Yes, that is correct.” 

“Mr Turner is very entrepreneurial and is building a large new flour mill powered by steam. The town council is much behind this venture as it will benefit Guildford. Jonathan also has a business relationship with Mr Hamish McPherson, a brewer from London and Scotland. He has extensive interests in brewing throughout the country and is planning to build a brewery here in Guildford. Mr Turner is an investor in this project, and his son Thomas will be the brewery manager.”    

Sir Hugh considered the information provided and suspected that Robert may be more involved here than his family knew. Why was Robert not at sea and frequenting Guildford? Neville Bassington would marry a baker’s daughter – a commoner! Why would he do that? 

“Do these Turners have any relationship with the aristocracy, Sir?”

Rupert was annoyed at this question, thinking, ‘Typical, they do not welcome any connection with we commoners!’ Rupert was careful in what he said next.

“Sir Hugh. I believe Jonathan Turner is a self-made man like his father. I am not aware of any connections, but he did attend the Free School here for a few years, a privilege that I did not partake of myself. His wife comes from a family that also has business connections. I understand that Mr Hurst started as an apprentice tailor, took over the business in Woking, and opened other shops in nearby towns. The Turners inherited the business. They are hardworking and well-educated people who have had success in life. The family businesses are adjusting well to the change we all are experiencing.” 

“I see. And who is this Anne Turner that my mother has befriended?”

“Ah, Anne is a delightful girl. She is the second eldest daughter and works part-time in her father’s bakery business. She is most intelligent and a wiz with the figures. Her mother is with child and suffers from ill health, so Anne is taking on more and more of the management of the household.”

Some of the pieces of this puzzle were coming together. Sir Hugh could only remember Anne vaguely, but he did recall her beautiful blue eyes and long goldish hair. He recalled the dinner, but his memory was blurred due to his inebriated state. The following morning, he saw her through the kitchen doorway. As Rupert said, she did appear to be an attractive girl. And his mother and sister were sitting with her. Most strange. Robert’s several visits to Guildford must be the connection. This girl, Anne Turner, must be the reason. He must talk with Emma and find out precisely what the relationship was. He was hoping it was nothing serious.   

“Thank you, Rupert. The information you have provided is most welcome and comprehensive.”

“It is a pleasure, Sir Hugh. I take it you have received your invitation?”

Sir Hugh spluttered in surprise, “What invitation?”

“Of course, the wedding between Mr Neville Bassington and Miss Bethany Turner, Sir?”

“Yes, of course. Excuse me for forgetting!” Hugh relaxed. Best if Rupert thought he was attending Neville’s big day.

“It will be a magnificent occasion with many guests from far and wide. Quite the social event of the year for Guildford, Sir!”

“Tell me, Rupert, who is on the guest list?”

Rupert thought this was a strange question but gave Sir Hugh as many names and descriptions as he recalled.    

The waiter served their main courses. Rupert looked down in delight at the fine roast chicken meal set before him, a far better option than the sandwiches at his office. Sir Hugh was hungry as well but continued thinking about the guest list. He was surprised at the dignitaries attending. This Jonathan Turner fellow had significant friends and was building a large mill. What was Turner intending?

After taking a second mouthful of the chicken, he looked up at Rupert and agreed on the quality of the meal. Then he ventured a question, “Now Rupert, tell me about Mr Turner’s new mill. What does he intend with this?”

While thoroughly enjoying his meal, Rupert was far more comfortable discussing business, “Sir, let me explain.”

Having gained the information, Hugh set off for Doctor Sopwith’s house, requiring the doctor’s opinion on some more personal business.

“Tell me, Doctor Sopwith, is there a problem?”

“Yes, I’m afraid there is. But it is treatable. Let me explain the use of this mercury ointment.”

HMS Restless …

Restless was making excellent time down the coast. Being mindful of his predicament, Robert drove the crew hard, leaving little opportunity for the traitors. He would relax once they reached the Solent. Horace Combes and his marines would be a welcome reinforcement and help sort out the crew. 

Robert and Horace went back a long way. The South and Combes families moved in the same society, with both families having estates in several parts of England and Wales. They often holidayed together at their estates at Luccombe Village on the Isle of Wight. With rolling green hills, sandy beaches and exciting changes in the tide, it was an enchanted playground that few children in their society enjoyed. The Combes’ two boys and a girl mirrored the South family. Emma put up with Charlotte Combes, as she was more interested in activities inside the house while Emma was off with the boys in the sunshine. For holidays, they endured each other. Hugh liked Harry Combes, and they were always playing tricks on the others. As a result, Horace, Robert and Emma allied to defend themselves against the practical jokers. Beautiful friendships developed that lasted years.  

At nine-thirty in the evening, the ship was less than fifty miles from rounding Selsey Bill and then Spithead. With a black night, little moon and a heavy but broken cloud cover, Robert scanned the coast ahead for lighthouses. Kevin Trotters, the Master, was standing watch and carefully checking their position by dead reckoning. He seemed tense and was glad the captain joined him on the quarter-deck. 

“Captain. The lights of Middleton-on-Sea off the starboard bow, Sir.” Robert nodded, noticing the twinkling lights in the distance. 

Trotters turned to the helmsman, “Two degrees port, Mr Young, please. Not too near the coast at Selsey Bill, please. There is a bit of a point there.”

“Aye, Master.”

Robert moved slowly around the quarter deck, carefully noticing who was crewing the stations. If anything happened, he must know from where the danger would come. He then moved around the helm and stood behind Mr Trotters, murmuring with the Master without the helmsman hearing.

“Is anyone aloft, Mr Trotters?”

“Just one lookout, Sir, in the foremast. I’ll post two more as soon as we enter the estuary.”

Captain South carefully noted the forty sailors on the main deck, standing ready. He usually would reduce sail early and find a sheltered area good for standing off at night. Tonight was different - he wanted this voyage over and Portsmouth harbour’s safety. Without enough trustworthy men, he must somehow even up the odds. He needed reinforcements, and those would come after they anchored. The traitors were also aware of that, and Robert was highly alert, ready in case of an attack. 

Mr Trotters moved back a step beside the captain. He was also alert, watching the men on the main deck closely. 

He quietly said, “Beg your pardon, Sir. It may be preferable to stand in the mast’s shadow there, Sir. With the moon breaking through the clouds at times, it may help.”

Robert immediately knew what Trotters meant. He was clearly visible and an easy target by standing where he was, especially when the moon appeared. The captain was a more challenging target by moving into the mast’s shadow. He took two steps towards the mast.

“Thank you, Mr Trotters, a fine …..”. As he spoke, a knife hurtled downwards, striking the deck exactly where Robert was previously standing. It came with such a force that it dug in deeply and shuddered before standing still. 

Robert reacted instantly. He was under attack and must counter this threat immediately. Seeing the angle of the landing knife, he realised it must have come from the main tops.

“Trotters put men all around the deck so you may arrest anyone coming down. Call Mr Small and have all the young gentlemen assembled.” With that, Robert threw off his coat, revealing his white shirt, jumped onto the main deck, ran across, grabbed the shroud rigging and climbed toward the main top in search of this assassin. 

As he climbed, he thought, ‘Damn this, I’m not remaining there as a target. Let me see who is up here!’

Robert could hear the officers shouting orders from below, but he focused his eyes on the rigging above. No one was in sight, but he was still far from the tops. The pitching movement of the mast became more severe as he climbed higher. A big north-westerly gust belted into the sails, and the ship heeled right over. As she rolled, he found himself well outside the boundary of the vessel, with only the choppy sea below. Looking up, he saw the flicker of a man steadying himself. He was hidden above the tops but looking straight down at him. 

Robert stopped three-quarters of the way up the shrouds. The man quickly jumped onto the upper Jacobs ladder and started climbing for the crosstrees. Robert moved quickly and mounted the main top. The man disappeared behind the mast and rigging above. Scanning the rigging, Robert estimated the crosstrees were fifteen yards above. As the ship slightly changed course towards the Solent estuary, with one hand on the tops for balance and one tightly clasping the rigging, Robert peered up into the darkness, searching for the traitor. 

Without warning, a knife shot down out of the dark, piercing straight through his left hand. The knife pinned him to the tops floor, and Robert yelled in pain. Gritting his teeth, he reached over, grabbed the knife with his free hand and pulled it out, leaving a growing pool of blood. He fought against the pain, knowing he needed a clear mind as he instinctively planned his next move. 

“Mr Small? Find a loaded musket and get up here straight away! Bring Swanton with you.”

Robert ripped his shirt off, winding it around his bleeding hand. He put pressure on the wound, then sat there hoping the sailor would not come down, as he was presently defenceless. Robert saw a pair of eyes looking down at him from the top loft. He moved the bandaged hand behind the mast, hiding it from the man above. 

After five long minutes, Small appeared over the loft’s edge, heaving a musket and reloading pouch onto the floor. Swanton quickly followed him. 

“He is up there, gentlemen. Now I want him alive, please. That traitor could solve this whole problem. How do we do it?”

Small said, “We wait, Sir. We will be in port in two hours!”

“No, he would not be up there without an escape plan. We must secure him now. Why he could even jump when the ship heels, hoping he will clear the deck!”

“But surely no man would be so stupid!” Small was not keen at all on tackling the man.

“Not if he is Irish, Sir”, Swanton mumbled.

“Small, what kind of a shot are you?” 

“Not good, Sir!” 

“Swanton, you are an army man; how about you?” 

“I can hit a sparrow at one hundred yards, Sir.” 

“Good, wing him and put him out of action. Small, you climb up and arrest him.” 

“Up there, Sir?”

“Yes, up there! Swanton, move out on the yardarm so you get a good shot. Secure yourself with some rope first. Small, get going up, Man!”

“I can’t go any higher, Sir!”

“What do you mean? You are an officer, Sir. Get up there.” 

“Sorry, Sir. Scared of heights! I can’t go any further!” 

Robert looked at him, wondering if this was the truth or a trap. There was no time for a debate. He must climb up himself. 

“Are you secure, Swanton?”

“Aye, Sir.”

“Have you a shot?” 

“Aye, Sir.”

“Take it, Man.” 

The musket fired almost immediately. The blast was loud in Robert’s ear, partly deafening him for a moment. Small was lying flat on the loft, shaking. Surprised by Small’s cowardly behaviour, Robert concluded that the man must be experiencing a mental disorder or was unfit for his duties. He could not believe that his second-in-command was a traitor. There was no time for this now. He would deal with it later – if there were a later! 

“Swanton, keep an eye on this damn officer, please. I don’t trust him.” 

He jumped onto the rigging, climbing towards the crosstrees. Swanton reported a hit on the traitor’s shoulder, but the man remained active. As he climbed, Robert called, “Reload Swanton!” 

Up and up Robert climbed, thinking, ‘You bastard, knifing my hand and making me do this.’ As he made his way up the rigging, his rage grew. Knowing he needed his mind calm, he suppressed it. The pain from his hand was immense and throbbed, but he ignored it. 

At three feet under the loft, a sabre swung down at him in a flash of steel, missing by a whisker; another shot rang out from below. He heard a cry of pain and saw the sabre drop past him, landing just beside Small. Thankfully, it fell without hurting anyone. 

Robert pulled himself up onto the crosstrees. There sat an unknown sailor.

He sat with his back against the mast. His shoulder was a bloodied mess from the first shot, and the second shot partially blew off the hand on the other arm. He was losing blood fast. He said nothing but glared at Robert. 

“Swanton, get up here. Small, get some more men up here fast with bandages. Get going, Man, now!”

Small yelled down for the men and bandages. 

Swanton hoisted himself onto the crosstrees. He saw Robert watching the traitor but not moving within arm’s reach. The sailor was now unconscious from the loss of blood.

Swanton yanked off the sailor’s shirt and thrust it against the shoulder wound. He then removed his shirt and bandaged the hand. 

“Sir, I have not seen him before. He must have hidden somewhere. Perhaps he is the leader?”

“Whoever he is, we have met him now. By the way, good shooting Mr Swanton. You can be on my team anytime.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, Sir, what you did was pretty daring. It matches anything I’ve seen in the army.”

“Your support is most welcome, Swanton. Now climb back to the tops and send Small down, please. Our first Lieutenant, afraid of heights, is not of much use! Damn him! Do not let any of the men come up here. We need a rope we can secure from the yardarm. We will lower this one down. Get some help from Bright. I don’t want an accident, and for no reason, he falls. This man will give us the information we need.”

Swanton ducked back down the rigging. Robert sat back and looked at the sailor. He wore fresh clothes – this man was not part of the crew! Who was he? What was his escape plan? Surely, there was no escape from the ship. Then he thought, ‘Unless there was a rescue boat nearby! Or perhaps once they killed the captain, someone would board Restless. My God!’ 

Robert screamed at the quarter-deck, “Mr Small – Enemy in sight, Hands to stations.”

Looking up in surprise, Trotters thought, “He must be joking, but why?”

Mr Small just stood there and did nothing. 

Robert could see his call fell on deaf ears; he must get down there quickly. While he grabbed some rope and secured the unconscious sailor against the mast, he screamed at Trotters, “Mr Trotters, don’t just stand there! Action Stations, man. I want all canons ready in the next two minutes.”

Trotters suddenly realised that Captain South was aware of some danger ahead and hoped it wasn’t what he was thinking. In a panic, he screamed at the men for action stations, and the junior officers followed his orders, chasing their sailors into position. He glanced over at Mr Small, standing at the rail looking forward, scanning the dark. Then he noticed Small had a pistol tucked in under his coat.

A chill went down Trotter’s spine. Surely the First Lieutenant could not be one of the conspirators? Trotters ordered the helmsman to bring the ship closer into the wind, losing some speed; then he quietly asked the Midshipman standing beside him, “Mr Collins, not a word, please, get the Master at Arms as quick as you can. Make sure he brings a pistol.”   

Robert checked the sailor was secure and then stood up. As he scanned the sea over the bow, the moon came through a break in the clouds. As he suspected, he saw two cutters sailing towards their path in the distance. A large number of men loaded down each of the cutters. Robert now knew the plan. He leaned over and nearly lost his grip as he yelled, “Mr Trotters, hard a port, please.”

“Aye, Captain. Helmsman, hard a port.”

“Aye, Sir.”

Trotter kept one eye on Small, who now seemed agitated and worried. Robert was halfway down the main shrouds when Midshipman Collins ran back onto the poop deck, bringing Mr Door, the Master at Arms. Small saw Door with a gun in his hand. He pulled out his pistol and shot Door in the chest. The Master at Arms fell, instantly dying on the quarter-deck, shot in the heart.  

Robert was now just above deck level and jumped down. Running aft, he stopped in his tracks as Small pulled out another pistol. Robert saw the gun was not cocked, which gave him a two-second opportunity. Robert yelled out as loudly as he could, “Small, I order you. Drop that weapon, Lieutenant!”

Small smiled as he cocked the gun, “You’re no longer in control, you bloody aristocrat!”

Robert knew he must keep him talking, “Where did you learn to shoot like that? You shot Door in the heart. He didn’t have a chance.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, South? Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

He raised the pistol towards Robert, but a shot rang out from above before he could aim. The ball hit Small between the eyes, and the lower back of his skull exploded. He stood there for a second in disbelief and then fell back against the rail, ending in an expanding pool of blood and brains on the deck.

Robert breathed a sigh of relief. He was praying that Swanton was watching. 

“You took your time, Mr Swanton,” Robert yelled at his servant standing thirty-five yards above the deck with a musket in his arms. 

From above, a very courteous reply came, “Reloading, Sir. You should have insulted his mother. That usually keeps them talking longer!”

Robert and Trotters looked at each other and started laughing in sheer nervous relief. There was a second for a deep breath before the realisation came back. It was not over yet. 

“Trotters, who is Mr Door’s assistant?”

“Mr Fulcher, Sir. A good man.”

Robert looked at Trotters and understood what he meant. The captain decided that Trotters was a man he could trust. His recommendation was good enough for South. 

“Send for Mr Fulcher, please.”

“Aye, Sir.”

Midshipman Collins, who still stood there with his mouth open, rushed off for Fulcher. 

“Master, bring her around ninety degrees to starboard, please. Get your sail teams aloft, Mr Trotters. We shall do some dancing.” 

“Aye, aye, Sir.”

“Mr Fulcher is here, Sir.”

“Good. Mr Fulcher! Now we have little time. You are now the Master at Arms. We may have more traitors onboard. I want the armoury opened and the officers and young gentlemen given two loaded pistols. If they see anything untoward, tell them they may shoot the misbehaving men and then scream like hell. We will back them up. Now hurry, Fulcher. Go, Man!” 

Fulcher swallowed, “Aye, Captain.” And he was off. 

“Mr Trotters, when I was above, I spied two longboats full of men about five hundred yards ahead of us. When we come behind them, we will give them a broadside. You may not see them, but that is of no consequence. The plan is we will scare the shit out of them. Load the starboard side with canon ball and the port side with grapeshot, please. Go to it, Man! I’ll take control of the helmsman while you do this.”

The Master was off instantly thinking, “Now this is what I like, a Captain who can fight and win!”

Robert watched the ship’s bearing; it was now on its original course, heading for Portsmouth. He gave it two minutes, putting them past the cutters. Once he was sure, he ordered, “Mr Young, come around eighty degrees to starboard.”

“Aye, Captain.”

The ship quickly responded as they were moving fast, with the wind increasing in strength. As Restless came onto the course, Robert allowed two minutes and then called the order, “Mr Trotters, you may fire now.”

“Starboard canons, Fire!”

The young gentlemen bellowed out the order, “Fire!”

Restless jolted as the canons went off. The north-westerly pushed the smoke away from the ship. Once it cleared, the crew peered into the darkness, searching for movement or noise. There was silence. 

“Mr Young, come back onto our course for Portsmouth, please. Mr Trotters, I will check first for any other cutters and then sail around them, then come back with the port side canons ready for any hostile boats. I will inform you if a broadside is necessary. Mr Swanton, now you are down. Would you please position yourself by the rail with a musket? Perhaps two or three muskets. Mr Fulcher, please arrange for Mr Swanton to have three loaded muskets and reloading supplies. Mr Collins and Mr Kent, you may assist Mr Swanton.”

“Aye, Sir.”

The ship fell silent as Restless ploughed on towards Portsmouth. As they forged ahead, there was no sign of any other boats. After a mile, Robert changed course by ninety degrees to starboard, coming around five hundred yards across the line he thought the cutters would be on. Then he changed course to another starboard ninety degrees so he would come back towards them. 

They were now running at about eight knots back along the coast. The clouds were thick above, and the sea was getting up with the stiff breeze. Trotters observed, “Hard to see them now, Sir!”

“I think we will see them, Mr Trotters and, very soon, and I’m hoping we hear them before that. Now be ready when I give the order. Mr Young, I want a swift response.”

They sailed on in silence for about twenty seconds when they heard a shot from beyond the starboard bow. A sailor near the bow fell backwards onto the deck. 

“Hard a Starboard, Mr Young. Mr Trotters, you may fire the port canons as they bear.”

“Port Canons, fire as you bear!”

“Fire!”

Two canons were fired immediately, and then three more in succession. Then, the crew heard a pistol shot near the first port canon crew and another. A junior officer started yelling, “Deserters, deserters!”

Four crew members dived over the ship’s port side in quick succession. 

“Mr Fulcher, take your men and find out what happened. Mr Swanton, I will come about, and you will have a clear shot from the bow. You know the penalty for desertion. Take no prisoners, please.”

Swanton rushed off with Mr Collins and Mr Kent, carrying the muskets behind him. 

“Master Trotters bring us about, back towards the deserters.”

“Aye, Sir.” Trotters gave the order, the helmsman madly swinging the helm. Trotters then started bellowing orders to the sail crews above. 

While the ship was turning, Robert looked out over the stern. He could see in the distance the wreckage of one of the cutters with multiple bodies lying in the water. There was no sign of the other boat. Perhaps he was smart and headed seawards. They would land somewhere safe back along the coast. He was probably under sail and long gone. 

Restless came about and quickly closed on the sailors swimming for their lives. They understood the sentence for mutiny, so it was escape or death. But it was too late. Swanton hit the first sailor at about two hundred yards. He dropped the musket for Mr Collins as Mr Kent passed another loaded musket. Aiming, he fired, hitting the next swimmer in the head. The ship was now far closer, and the swimmers were panicking. Swanton saw that one of them dived like a whale and went out of sight. He aimed and shot the third sailor at close range, and then Restless passed them with no sign of the fourth swimmer. 

Swanton grabbed the reloaded first musket and ran aft. Resting the musket on the stern rail, he balanced it and waited. The traitor came up twenty yards from the stern, looking straight at Swanton. He saw the musket pointed at him and pleaded mercy. Swanton turned, and Captain South knew what he was asking! But he also remembered the dead sailor they shot at the bow of his ship. 

“Execute him, please, Mr Swanton.”

Wham went the musket. 

“Done, Sir!”

“Mr Trotters, bring her about and pick up those dead sailors. I want identification. Once they are loaded, we will search for the other cutter; however, I think she will have her sail up and be long gone now.” 

“Aye, Sir, and may I suggest you go below and have your hand washed and properly bandaged.”

“Thank you, Master. In the excitement, I forgot about that. Carry On.”

Swanton and Bright followed him into the captain’s cabin. Crew members stood up and saluted as he went past. Robert, gripping his wounded hand, noticed the respect and smiled. 

Nudging Mr Young, Trotters said, “That was the gutsiest performance I have ever seen in the navy lad. Ever seen, I say! We’ve got a good one here by Jove.”

“Aye, Master, a real good one; about time I say so, Master!” 

The Turner Household, Guilford …

Anne sat in a comfortable chair in the parlour. The house felt insecure now she was aware the burglars were still in town. Perhaps they were locals, and perhaps not? Knowing that her parents would be home tonight, she decided to read a good book until they arrived. It was almost eleven, and she could hear Constable Rawlins and the guard talking at the front entrance. 

“Cricks, you maintain your watch here. I will check out the back. Keep your eyes open, man!”

Anne decided a few more candles might help so any potential intruder would know there were people still up and about. She sat back in the chair, picked up her book, made herself comfortable and thumbed through the pages to her place. As Anne read slowly, her eyelids closed, and her head rolled over, resting on the wing of the chair. Soon, she was fast asleep. 

The wind was roaring through the rigging. It was nearly a gale and a struggle for the crew above reefing the sails. The noise was incredible; Anne could see the men grappling with the sails high on the yards above. Ice-cold water was washing right across the deck. Gripping the ropes at the mast, she looked up again, watching the men struggling. Then Robert was beside her, tying her tight against the mast so the waves could not wash her over the side. 

A scream came from above as a man nearly fell from the yardarm rigging, the sail tearing and cracking as they flapped violently. Robert yelled, “Hang on, man, till the others reach you!” Then he lost his grip, falling straight down outside the ship’s rail into the wild water of the violent storm. An enormous wave washed him up against the side. Robert ran, reaching for him before he was gone. Stretching his arm as far as he could, he screamed, “Grab me, Man! Grab me……” The sailor grasped out…

“Anne, Anne? Wake up, child. You are dreaming!”

Anne woke with a start, and there was her mother. She opened her eyes wide, and great smiles came on their faces. They hugged each other tightly. The relief was enormous. She was safe.   

“Mother, thank God you are home!”