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

  He began a letter to Marion. There would be nothing lost if it never reached her, and everything gained if she responded.

  Stearns spent the next week, when the weather permitted, following up on the navy yard accounts in the wake of Marion. It was the logical thing to do, and he had plenty of time. He found everything in order. At the end of the week he found himself in a bar near the navy yard having a pint and grumbling to the man on the next stool. They were just two lonely travelling salesmen.

  “A duel, you say,” said his neighbor, “I didn’t think people did such things anymore.”

  “It seemed the right thing at the time,” said Stearns. “I had hoped it would get that bloody Brit out of my hair for good.”

  “But you got a hole in your shoulder for your efforts, did you? Where has the lady gone now?”

  “She was here. I chased her here, you see, but now she’s gone to London, and who knows why?”

  “Maybe she’s gone after that navy fellow.”

  My God! Could that be? Stearns rolled that thought over in his head and took another sip of his beer, “I can’t believe she would do that,” he said. But she might. “Her father wouldn’t approve at all.”

  “What fathers don’t know won’t hurt ‘em, they say.”

  “They say all sorts of things, don’t they. If that were true then I’m back to playing second fiddle at every turn.”

  “Go get her, then. There’s nothin’ else for it,” his neighbor concluded. “That’s enough for me tonight,” He threw a dollar on the bar, grabbed his coat, and departed.

  I have no reason to stay here. I should go work the New York accounts, thought Stearns in the morning. But I’m in Washington. I might as well take advantage of it; I’m not getting any younger.

  “Michael Stearns to see Mr. William Fordson, if you please,” he announced to the clerk inside the Navy Yard.

  “You’re in luck, Sir. Here he comes down the hall; and I believe his schedule is clear for the next hour or so.”

  Stearns turned to see the man enter the office where he stood, and put out his hand, “Good morning, Mr. Fordson,” he said, “Michael Stearns.”

  Fordson shook his hand as he would a thousand others that year, and returned a blank stare. “Oh, right,” he said after a moment searching his memories, “The one who almost botched the Marseille thing a few years back. Yes, I remember you. I thought we passed you to Roger Townsend. What can I do for you today?” Always the politician.

  Stearns winced at Fordson’s recollection. He had hoped it was forgotten. “Yes, you did pass me to Townsend,” he said, “and I have been working with him a few years now. Shipping information from Jamaica, you know. But what I came for… can we talk more privately?”

  “Certainly… in here,” said Fordson, gesturing to a small conference room.

  Inside the little room, with the door shut, Stearns continued: “I don’t feel that I am contributing to this country in any significant way, Mr. Fordson. My purpose in Jamaica is less now than it was when I got there. There is less friction between the French and the British simply because the British have all but taken over.”

  “So?”

  “So, the information I provide is worth less than it was, if ever it was worth much to begin with. In short, I’m not as satisfied in Jamaica as I was, and I feel I can make a much bigger contribution. I’d like another chance, whether it’s in Britain or in France. Can you find me a more active role? I’ve been trained for it. I can speak French.”

  “I get your meaning, Sir, but at the moment our government has no interest in sponsoring any clandestine activities against either of these countries. President Jefferson is not in favor of such activities… His position is that we remain neutral. We have no need for new personnel at this time.”

  “What if I told you I could sell certain products of this country to, say, France, but that to do so I would need to make connections you already have? Would you be interested in giving a small amount of assistance to a commercial enterprise?”

  “If it is truly commercial, it might be possible. Exactly what are we talking about?”

  “Rifles. We aren’t at war with France, as you have said. It might come back at the British, but not at us, correct?”

  “I’ll need more specifics.”

  “Are you sure you want to know? I’ll need connections.”

  “Come back tomorrow. I’ll write a few things down for you.”

  “Write things down? When did you begin doing that?”

  “Just checking, Mr. Stearns. Do you have the specifics with you?”

  “No. I’ll come back.”

  “I’ll have some names.”

  Michael Stearns had not had any conversation about the Harper’s Ferry Armory with Chester Stillwater, but he had also observed the engraved glass award on Chester’s shelf. The implication was clear. Chester wasn’t selling just rum, but he had not thought to include Stearns in his dealings. It was time to strike out on his own. He couldn’t be in a better position. Harper’s Ferry was just forty-five miles up the Potomac. Even in bad weather, how long could it possibly take to travel up there and strike a deal as an independent sales agent? It will be late April, with most of the snow of winter behind them. He had the money to sail to France. With Fordson’s connections he could find the buyers in France. He was a good salesman.

  By the first of May, 1805, Michael Stearns was packing his personal items in his room at the Capital City Rooming House while whistling ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy’. It just seemed the right tune to go with an unusual cheerfulness that had welled up within him. He had inked a deal with Harper’s to sell their Model 1803 Flintlock Rifle to the French, ‘if he thought he could accomplish such a thing’. They had given him a paper to that effect that he was able to show Mr. Fordson in exchange for French contacts. Having ample time before travelling to meet Marion in Paris, he had booked passage on a ship to New York City to conduct his planned business. Everything was going well. On top of all that, he had received a letter from Marion. The post is amazing, he thought. Here to London and back in two months! Incredible!

  The Saxon Arms, London

  April 2, 1805

  Dear. Mr. Stearns,

  I was quite surprised to find your letter of March 2 here at the hotel when I returned from touring the Cotswolds. Miss Aughton and I will have a quiet week here in London before we’re off again. It is a simply lovely time to be here. I am so impressed with springtime in England – all the little flowers. I’m told it doesn’t rain so much in East Anglia, so we shall tour there next. I so look forward to seeing Cambridge.

  We will be back to London in time to see the museums and catch a symphony performance by this new composer Beethoven. We’ll spend most of the summer here and then pop across the Channel to see some of France. I have always wanted to see Paris, so we should be there in early September if all goes well. Then we’ll be heading back to work in Jamaica.

  I assume father has you checking my work there in Washington, before you go on to New York, so don’t let them wiggle out of any of it. I trust you enjoy the Capital Cities rooms… quite nice, what?

  Sorry to be so wordy. Thanks for a note from ‘home’, and good luck in New York!

  Cheers,

  M. Stillwater

  By the end of April, Stearns had visited all of his intended contacts in New York. He strode into the office of a shipping company that he had heard would take passengers to France.

  “Good day, Sir,” said the reception clerk, “Freight to ship?”

  “Only myself, if you have a berth,” said Stearns.

  “To where, Sir?”

  “Marseille, France. Do you ship there?”

  “Hmm. That depends.”

  “Depends on what?”

  “On whether you are willing to take the risk that you cannot land in France. The British navy has had a blockade in place for several years. Their main purpose is to prevent the French navy from escaping their ports, but they will also b
oard and confiscate anything they consider contraband. Do you plan to carry anything?”

  “Not this trip.”

  “We’ll not refund your fare if you can’t land, but it might be possible to arrange some other method for landing if needed – at your expense.”

  “I see. You have a berth?”

  “Lady Spencer… Master is… Reynolds… End of the month.”

  “Write my name in. I’ll come back with the fare.”

  Van Aken House

  New York, City, New York, U.S.A.

  18th May, 1805

  Dear Mr. Stillwater,

  I am pleased to report quite good success on my visit to New York. Enclosed is my report detailing the same and copies of the orders I have secured on behalf of the Stillwater Rum Trading Company from various wholesalers here.

  I have not received any correspondence from you, and so in the absence of any direction to the contrary, I pray you will not mind my taking a short holiday for a visit to Paris. It is a place I have always wanted to see, and I would not be able to travel from British Jamaica to France.

  I am booked on a ship leaving here at the end of May, and it is bad enough that I am told an American vessel may be denied landing.

  I also took the opportunity to visit Washington and confirm that the orders that Marion took from there are still in place. I hope you have heard from her and that she is well.

  My Best Regards,

  Mic. Stearns

  Van Aken House

  New York, City, New York

  United States of America

  18th May, 1805

  Dear Miss Stillwater,

  I have not received any correspondence from your father, and so in the absence of any directions to the contrary, I pray you will not mind my taking a short holiday to visit you in Paris. It is a place I have also always wanted to see, and I can travel directly from here. I would not be able to sail to France from British Jamaica, so the convenience is significant.

  I am booked on a ship leaving here at the end of May, and it is bad enough that I am told an American vessel may be denied landing.

  Once I land in Marseille, I will make the necessary contacts to meet you and conduct other business I have in mind while I am there.

  I so look forward to seeing you.

  My Best Regards,

  Mic. Stearns

  P.S. also took the opportunity to visit Washington and confirm that the orders that you took from there are still in place. I hope you have heard from your father and that he is well.

  A near gale was blowing off the New Jersey coast when the American schooner Lady Spencer emerged from the Hudson’s River Bay south of the city and passed through the narrows into the Sandy Hook Channel. The wind was fair for their sail into the North Atlantic, which held the seas to a mere six or seven feet.

  “It has been an enjoyable experience, no?” said fellow passenger Charles Mason of Pennsylvania when Lady Spencer neared the Balearic Islands.

  “Yes, indeed,” answered Stearns, “The beginning was not so nice when we left in that gale, and the thunderstorms where we crossed the Florida current were not comfortable, but the approaches to the Azores were as fine as I could imagine a sea voyage to be…

  “And the size of the rock at Gibraltar was astounding. I am already glad I came this way.”

  “Did the master say how much longer we should expect until we reach Marseille?”

  “What he said yesterday was that once we leave Mallorca to larboard we should have only another two days. Then he added, ‘if the weather holds’. Ha ha. He always adds that.”

  “Sail, ho!” cried a lookout from above.

  “I see him, Mr. Stone,” the master yelled back.

  Stearns and Mason sauntered back to where the master stood by the wheel. “Why did the lookout cry out, Master Reynolds? We have seen many a sail without he calls down.”

  “What he’s comin’ straight for us, ain’t he?’ answered Reynolds, “And he’s British. He’ll probably board us and go pokin’ round our men to see if there’s any he can take, and then snoop in the hold for anything he thinks we shouldn’t have aboard. It’s a bloody nuisance, at the least.”

  “Good afternoon, Master,” said Phoebe’s captain. “I am Captain Capel of His Britannic Majesty’s Royal Navy. Thank you for heaving to.” Lady Spencer was tied alongside the British frigate, and Captain Capel stood on her deck with two marines and his first lieutenant behind him. There had not been much choice for Master Reynolds. Phoebe had the advantage of speed and firepower. Once she was in range she ran out her guns, and Lady Spencer let fly her sheets.

  “Didn’t have much choice, did I, captain?” said Lady Spencer’s master, “What with you ready to make splinters of us.”

  Captain Capel gave him an unfriendly leer. “We’re returning to Toulon from Gibraltar. Where are you bound?”

  “Marseille.”

  “We have a blockade on French ports. Were you aware?”

  “The United States is a neutral country. We can trade where we please. You have no right to…”

  “Some say ‘might makes right’. Would you not agree?”

  “We didn’t agree twenty-five years ago. Why should we now?” responded Lady Spencer’s master, looking Captain Capel directly in the eye.

  “Just so, I suppose. We have no quarrel with your country, sir – just with those who would assist our enemies. What is your cargo?”

  “Only staples and passengers.”

  “We’ll take a look for ourselves… and for deserters from our navy. Do you count any of those in your company?” Capel began casting his eye about the ship.

  “All American, sir,” shouted a crewman.

  “Call them up in their divisions, then. We’ll have a look…

  “Lieutenant, send two marines below to investigate the cargo.”

  The master paused for several moments, staring at Captain Capel, before he said, “Call them up, Mr. Wilbur. I think we have no choice.”

  Captain Capel began with a look at Stearns and Mason, and apparently decided they were of no interest as sailors. “What business do you have in France?” he asked them.

  “Sales,” said Stearns. “Tobacco and rum.” He didn’t think they would like to hear his idea of selling rifles. “And a visit to the famous Paris.”

  “Hrrrmmph…

  “And you?”

  “Food,” said Mr. Mason. “If the people wish to eat, we have corn and wheat to sell. We will sell to the British, as well.”

  That answer ended Capel’s interest in the passengers. He turned his attention to the two lines of eight men whom Reynolds had called. He walked down the first line, stopping in front of each man and asking his name.

  “Thomas,” said the fifth man in response to Capel’s question.

  Capel’s lieutenant looked at the man steadily while Thomas nervously avoided his gaze.

  “Yes,” said the lieutenant finally. “It is Thomas, isn’t it? It’s Thomas Morton. You served with me when I was a midshipman on the Amethyst some years ago. You’re no American. You’re one of ours.”

  “No, I ain’t. Not no more,” spat Thomas. “I’ve been in Boston these fourdeen year and I has American citizenship, I has.”

  “By your law, maybe. Not by ours. If you were born in England, you’re English, and that’s that. Stand over there.” He pointed to the sally port, where two more marines stood with their muskets at port arms.

  “Master Reynolds, have you more like this, who claim American citizenship?”

  “Not that I will volunteer to the likes of a pirate,” Reynolds answered.

  “Here’s two here!” yelled one of the marines who had gone below to inspect the cargo. “I found these two hiding under the corn.” They climbed the ladder to the deck, and the marine shoved the two men roughly toward Captain Capel.

  “I won’t even bother to ask questions,” said Capel to Reynolds. “Innocent men don’t hide…

  “Stand there with that other de
serter.”

  Capel’s review of Lady Spencer’s men concluded with yet a fourth man that he had sent to the sally port. He then turned to the men now grouped by the sally port, and asked, “You four. Do you volunteer to return to your duties in His Majesty’s Navy, or shall I hang you here for desertion?”

  “Captain, Capel,” began Master Reynolds, “My men are not yours to take. You can…”

  “I can what, Master Reynolds? Hang them for desertion? Is that what you prefer I do?”

  “No, I was certainly not suggesting…”

  “Then I will do as I please with English citizens, and you may stand aside.

  “You four. Do you volunteer?”

  All four nodded silently, knowing that Captain Capel’s alternative was not negotiable. Thomas Morton looked as if he were about to cry and one of the others was visibly trembling.

  “That’s all, then, Master Reynolds. Good Day,” said Capel, and indicated to his lieutenant his intention to depart.

  “The Devil take you,” said Reynolds. “Get off my ship.”

  16 - “Cape Trafalgar”

  The longing in Neville’s heart as La Désirée rose to the first swell outside the harbor would have been far worse if he didn’t know that Marion was no longer in England. She should have been in some comfortable hotel in France for a week now. For all he knew she had conducted her business and was awaiting a ship home – or more likely to the United States.

  “What was the news from the Spanish coast, Captain? Did you get anything more than the general rumors?” asked Lt. Towers.

  “Not much, but I was officially told that Captain Blackwood of HMS Euryalis, who is in command of the frigates that Nelson has watching the coast, brought news to London just yesterday that Admiral Villeneuve has the combined French and Spanish fleets at Cadiz. HMS Victory is to be Nelson’s flagship, and she isn’t ready yet.”