The Stillwater Conspiracy (The Neville Burton 'Worlds Apart' Series Book 4) Read online

  “How is it your Miss Aughton is an excellent rider, carries a dagger, darns your stockings, I assume…”

  “I’d rather you focus on me than Miss Aughton, although I admit she is an attractive girl.”

  “She is that. Where does she come from? Here in Kingston? Did your father choose her?”

  “Since you are so interested in her, I will tell you just a little…”

  “Compared to you, I have no interest in her whatsoever, so if you prefer not to tell…”

  “No. You shall know. My father did not choose her. Have you not yet learned that I make my own decisions?”

  “I suppose I am still learning. Fascinating.”

  “We met in Washington, in the United States.”

  “You went there? When?”

  “Will you let me tell the story?”

  “Yes, Miss Stillwater,” said Neville, now wearing a silly grin.

  “Mr. Stearns and I went on a sales trip there two years ago. He thinks he’s the world’s best sales person, but I assure you he is not. Modesty aside, I did far better with the Washington set than he ever could.”

  “I can believe that,” interjected Neville.

  “So I really needed an assistant, because Mr. Stearns couldn’t be counted on for much.”

  “What was he…”

  “We’re not talking about him at the moment.”

  “No.”

  “Miss Aughton was recommended to me, and we got on well right from the beginning. Her domestic skills are wonderful, and she has had some defensive training, if you can believe that.”

  “That does make me feel better about your safety. I wonder where a girl would get defensive training.”

  “She assures me she has had, and I know she carries that dagger. At any rate, she was willing to come to Jamaica, so I brought her home and father seemed quite noncommittal, so here we are. Do you want to know more about her?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “When do you sail next…?”

  “Another week, at least.”

  “…Oh, that reminds me. Have you heard of the ague aboard Bellerophon?”

  “I had, yes. A bad case. I’ve heard over an ‘undred ill with it, with one dead already. I pray it does not spread.”

  “And here’s lunch. I chose the sand dabs.”

  “Did I tell you that was my most favorite things?”

  “You didn’t, but I know now.”

  10 - “The Understanding”

  By mid-March Neville had been to another lunch meeting with Marion at the Golden Strand Hotel, and then at sea for a month. Neville was now back in Kingston again. He found himself in a carriage with Marion and Miss Aughton, with Marion’s regular driver at the reins.

  “I didn’t think you’d mind a trip out here to the cemetery,” said Marion. “I try to visit my mother and brother fairly often.”

  “It’s a beautiful day for an outing, no question. What are those, there?”

  “What sort of thing are you pointing at?”

  “The trees, there, with the big round fruits; and that tree, there, with different fruit.”

  “That one’s a breadfruit tree. They’ve been planted all over of late. That large one is a mango. I thought you’d been to Jamaica before.”

  “I have but it’s been quite some time.” The question brought up the remembrance of Maria and a time early in his recovery when she had brought him local fruit. He could remember no ‘breadfruit’ or ‘mango’. The carriage came to a halt beneath one of the trees. Neville asked, “I find these interesting. Can you eat them?”

  “Yes, of course you can, but the importance of the breadfruit is food for slaves on the great plantations. We’ll arrange to try some later. Captain Bligh brought them from Tahiti, you know, and started their cultivation at Bath some ten years ago now. Maybe someday we could take a ship out to Port Morant and, from there, horses up to the Botanical Garden. I’m told it’s a beautiful garden, but father would never allow that … yet.”

  “Captain Bligh? The Captain Bligh of HMS Bounty?”

  “Yes, the same…”

  The day passed happily, until the carriage rounded a curve on the road home to reveal a view of the harbor.

  “Oh, that’s the Bellerophon, isn’t, it?” Marion asked.

  “Yes, verily, and flying the yellow flag of quarantine. Why do you ask?”

  “It’s worse, Neville. We are told there are over a hundred and fifty ill with the ague now, and fully fifteen have died. As much as I hate to say it, I’m glad you’ve been away. Our men refuse to take the rum out and breathe the same air. They’ll only deliver it to the shore and leave it…”

  There was one advantage to Neville’s second month of patrol. Marion had the idea during the previous cruise to simply walk in to the Jamaica Station Headquarters and ask if she could post a letter to the Superieure.

  “No problem at all, Miss,” she was told. “Place it there. We’ll put it in the packet for the advice boat. She finds most of our patrolling ships two or three times a month.”

  She wrote; he responded:

  HMS Superieure

  At Sea West of Hispaniola

  12th April, 1804

  Marion,

  Don’t be alarmed as you read this. Everything is quiet now, and no lives were lost aboard Superieure, though it did become rather Exciting for a while on Tuesday last.

  We came upon a large brig hiding in the little bay behind the Ile a Vache and quickly determined her to be a pirate, plain and simple. She was not well armed, but she did manage to get off a lucky shot that took down our foremast topsail yard before we came alongside and boarded her. The falling top hamper broke Seaman Moore’s right arm. It did not take us long to overpower the brig’s company, however, they being drunkards all.

  I have sent her in to Port Royal under the command of our Midshipman Foyle, who has proved himself quite capable of suche duty. I am muche amiss at having not introduced him yet, and shall do so when I am returned.

  The brig is renamed ‘Revelry’ by a very sloppy hand, so I do not know her real name. Perhaps when your men see her they can identify her… a Jamaican merchant, perhaps?

  I know that it will be just another week before you read this, since I am sending it in with Mr. Foyle to the Pig’s Tale. (I suspect it best to reveal as little of our communication as we can.)

  When I arrive, might I make the request that we meet… Etc., etc.

  In admiration,

  Cmdr. Nev. Burton

  HMS Superieure arrived at Port Royal a week later as promised, but her arrival was one of Neville’s more frustrating experiences. For a day they sat becalmed outside the harbor after having had a luxurious easy sail southwards down the coast of Haiti. Then the wind came up from shore in the morning, just enough to disallow warping the ship in with her boats or using her own sweeps. Another day passed as she drifted farther from the harbor. On the third day a breeze arose from the east. This was enough to make rowing unnecessary, and with the aid of a slow flood tide Superieure ghosted into the harbor at the speed of growing grass until her anchor finally splashed in late afternoon.

  “Mr. Foyle is almost here, Commander.”

  “That didn’t take him long.”

  “He’s had almost three days to watch us crab in, Sir. I’m sure he swayed out his boat as soon as he saw we would finally come in.”

  Midshipman Foyle hauled himself up the side at the main chains in another five minutes. Neville leaned down himself and clapped ahold of his hand to help him up the last few feet.

  “Welcome aboard, Mr. Foyle,” Neville said after Foyle saluted the colours. Come down for a bit of supper, if you please.”

  “I would Sir.”

  Below, Hajee set out a pair of claret glasses and left them to drink some wine while he roused up their dinner.

  “We’re all done in ‘Revelry’, Sir. Prisoners have been taken, shore marines are aboard for a guard, and the cargo has been counted. There was a small chest of c
oins of all the realms here: French, English, Spanish, and even some Dutch, and a larger chest of plunder. They had some captain’s silver tea service and the like. In the hold were fourteen barrels of flour, two of saltpeter, and four of molasses. Not much, but it should pay the men a few pounds each. Have you heard anything about prize money from Le Serpent or Desiree?

  “I’ve just got in, haven’t I, Mr. Foyle? I’d say not.”

  “S-sorry, Sir.”

  “I see the ‘Billy Ruffian’ still has her yellow up. How does she fare?”

  “Over t-two hundred sick, but the worst may be over. Seventeen dead, Sir, and they have moved an ‘undred to the hospital ashore. There might be more who die there. I know two have.”

  “Thank you for that, and I wish to congratulate you on another fine job of acting as prize commander. You’ll be all set to play captain soon.”

  “Aye, Sir, I hope to!”

  “Let us turn to more pleasant things. I think you know I have seen a most charming lady ashore – Miss Marion Stillwater.”

  “Aye, Sir. No disrespect meant, but I think all the men know. We hear she is uncommon pretty.”

  “That’s true enough. Well, it’s time you’ve met. I’ve writ of you, and it seems rude not to introduce you. I’m sure I’ll have an answer in a few days as to when and where. So you and the prize crew can come back aboard tonight?”

  “They look forward to being back with their mates, aye.”

  “Excellent. I’d like to ask a favor. I’m going to dash off a quick note. On your rowing about the harbor, will you please find a boy to take it to a butcher shop ashore before you bring our men back?”

  “Butcher shop?”

  “Aye, the Pig’s Tale on Harbour Street. Have him take it, and bring back an envelope for me, if there is one. Here’s sixpence to take it. Tell him there’s this other sixpence for him when he’s back. Oh, and Mr. Foyle, you needn’t tell your men what it’s about.”

  “I can’t tell anyone, Sir. I don’t know what it’s about myself.” Foyle departed with the note.

  Marion,

  I am sure Superieure has been the butt of the port’s jokes for the last three days now, but we have arrived.

  I admit to being most anxious to see you again. Is it possible we might meet tomorrow - lunch?

  Nev. Burton

  When he returned with the prize crew in an hour he had the response Neville expected:

  Cmdr. Nev. Burton,

  I am annoyed, as I am sure you are, about your unfortunate experience outside our harbor. When you are anchored, I would enjoy your company, but it cannot be Wednesday. I am promised to attend an important company function with Mr. Stearns that afternoon.

  I expect a note at your earliest to confirm.

  M. Stillwater

  He read the note below decks, and then searched for his calendar. Tuesday, it is. Rubbish! And she’s out with that annoying Stearns fellow. That infuriating wind! Now I must wait.

  “You seem cheerful today, Commander,” said Framingham on Thursday morning.

  “Yes, I feel better. Sorry about yesterday.”

  “Not a problem, Sir. After that awful arrival, having to tend to a thousand little annoyances here in port would drive any man to drink, sure.”

  “Aye, but your captain should never let it show, should he? Never mind, I’ll be off before noon - at about five bells, if you’d be so kind as to have my gig ready.”

  He met with Marion and Miss Aughton at the Golden Strand again. Her shining smile pushed away the cobwebs of monotony that had gathered in his mind after a month at sea. She gave every indication that she was equally pleased to see him. Once again Miss Aughton respected their desire to have a private conversation; they spoke easily of events at the Rum Company and Neville’s experiences with Revelry.

  “I do envy you at times,” said Marion. “Such adventure! Do you enjoy the danger?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever thought of it that way, Marion. That certainly seems an unusual thing for a woman to say. Wait; look there. It’s Lt. Dagleishe of the Vanguard, and Lt. Miller, as well. Could they sit with us?”

  “Miss Stillwater, may I present my friend and Vanguard’s First Lieutenant Joseph Dagleishe? You’ve met before, at your New Years’ parties. And, this is Lt. Miller, Vanguard’s fourth.”

  “Third, now,” Miller corrected him in a somber tone. “I did see you Miss, and I thank you for the parties, although we did not meet. Rather a busy time for you, I’d say.”

  “Thurin took ill of the ague. He was taken ashore, and we’ve just been told he’ll be sent home,” Dagleishe informed Neville. “That’s why we’ve come to the best dining room in town – to celebrate Lt. Miller’s advancement – and just to get away from the ship for awhile. We’ll only sit with the lady’s permission, though.” he added, “This looks serious.”

  “On one condition,” she replied, “That my assistant might join in. I think it’s time Commander Burton discovers that she’s a little more than just a maidservant. You are not interrupting anything serious. We have simply found that we enjoy each other’s company.”

  “Certainly,” Neville said, suddenly feeling a touch of embarrassment for making exactly that assumption about Miss Aughton. He also noted his pang of concern about Marion’s last remark.

  Neville had stood. They shook hands all ‘round and sat, after the staff had pushed another small square table against theirs and added three chairs. Neville personally crossed the room to fetch Miss Aughton. He then returned to the head of the combined table, with Marion at his left corner. When he seated Miss Aughton diagonally from Marion, Miller sat to Neville’s right, leaving Dagleishe opposite Aughton.

  “Tell us what you’ve been up to, Commander Burton,” said Dagleishe.

  After a long pause when he didn’t get a response, Joseph looked to Neville, only to discover everyone else present looking his way.

  “Wha…?” he began. He looked down as if to see if his uniform was ripped or he had made some other mistake.

  “I’d be happy to answer you, Lt. Dagleishe, but it’s considered polite to look at your host, which in this case I believe to be me, yet you haven’t taken your eyes off Miss Aughton since you sat down… Not that the rest of us noticed.”

  A long and lively luncheon ensued, with accounts of the exploits of Vanguard and Superieure and of the ladies’ adventures in Washington. Ellen Aughton did seem to be more than a maidservant. She didn’t speak like one. She was bold like Marion and stood her ground well with the officers around her. She was clear of eye, notably observant and, Neville now knew, would not fade into the background unless she chose to do so.

  Three hours passed before Lt. Dagleishe announced, “I am afraid we must make our excuses to leave. Captain Walker will be wondering if we have deserted.”

  “Us as well,” said Neville, so they all stood. “Joseph, will you stop by Superieure for supper?”

  “After this?” he asked, patting his belly.

  “A brandy, then.”

  “No, you’ll come to Vanguard and have a look round the old ship. The rest of ‘em will be pleased to see you. I thank you ladies for the best afternoon we’ve had in ages.” Dagleishe and Miller gallantly kissed the back of the ladies’ hands and took their leave.

  “I’ll signal for the carriage, Miss,” said Ellen, bustling off for the maître d’hotel’s station.

  Neville leaned close to Marion’s ear. “A scrap of paper passed from Miss Aughton to Lt. Dagleishe. That was as fast a connection as I’ve ever witnessed, I think. Should I tell him of the Pig’s Tale?”

  “I think she just did,” she said with a wink. “Who do you think carries half the messages?

  “Carriage, Miss,” announced Ellen.

  They strolled to the hotel foyer as Ellen went out.

  “While I’m in the mood, I must confess to telling a little white lie earlier,” Marion said in a hushed tone. “I would prefer you didn’t carry it home.”

  “What w
ould that be?”

  “I told your friends that we just enjoy each other’s company. That’s true enough, but my heart says it’s more serious. I’d give you a big kiss if we weren’t in the middle of this busy foyer. I’m going to ask father to at least relax enough to have you over for supper one day. It will be supper. He doesn’t usually go home at noon...”

  “I will look forward to it. Here you go,” he said, pushing the door open for her.

  “Might you accept a ride?”

  “I’ll walk. My heart is too joyful for riding.” He led her down the three steps to the carriage holding her hand. “Good day, Miss Aughton. It was wonderful to meet you.”

  “And you.

  “Off you go, driver.”

  Aboard Vanguard, Neville and Joseph took a leisurely walk around the upper deck.

  “Once we go below we’ll not have a chance to talk, you know,” said Joseph.

  Even now they were interrupted by men from Neville’s’ previous divisions giving their greetings and asking about those few who had joined Superieure – like Mr. Johnson.

  “What do you know of that amazing creature?” Joseph asked.

  “Which one?”

  “Don’t joke, Neville. I mean Miss Aughton, and you know it.”

  “Little more than I learned today. Her name is Ellen, though.”

  “Ellen, is it?”

  “Yes, but be careful. I’m told she has had defensive training, and that she carries a dagger.”

  “I can believe it, verily.”

  “What was the note?”

  “You saw it?”

  “We commanders see everything.”