Treason Page 3

  “Uh, yes, sir,” Beth replied. “The culprit was Edward Baldwin, the costume-maker. He won’t be back.”

  “Good. It was a simple enough task.” Strange handed her a small bag of coins in payment.

  Beth was about to inform him that it hadn’t been quite so straightforward as all that, but caught herself just in time. It didn’t do to contradict Alan Strange.

  “Now, I have something else for you.”

  Beth’s eyes lit up. Could this be the exciting task she’d been waiting for? “You have only to tell me,” she replied without hesitation.

  “Go to the offices of the Navy Board. It is within sight of the Tower, on Seething Lane.”

  “And they will give me further instructions?”

  “Nay. They will not be expecting you,” Strange said ominously.

  Beth frowned. “I see ... Well ... actually, I don’t think I do understand.”

  “You must make up a story in order to gain their confidence. Seek out a junior clerk, somebody who can be easily ... charmed. I wish you to look into something for me without arousing any suspicion. It is to do with a mystery ship that has appeared on the Thames, drifting, apparently deserted.”

  “Oh, just an empty ship...?” Beth’s heart sank.

  “I said apparently, Beth. I have reason to believe that there is more to this than meets the eye. Stay alert, and be careful. That is all for now.”

  Strange melted into the shadows without so much as a “farewell”, leaving Beth gazing down from her lofty perch towards the broad River Thames. She wanted to believe that this new job would be of greater importance, but it seemed rather vague. Did Mr Strange yet trust her for the kind of serious spy work she had hoped to perform in the service of the King? If her previous jobs were anything to go by, she would probably find he had sent her to investigate the theft of a few ships’ nails or rope. Beth sighed. She knew she had to be patient. Strange had personally chosen her to join his secret service, and would surely give her a big job in time – but it seemed unlikely some leaky old ship would be it.

  Chapter Three - A Visitor

  John Turner was beginning to wonder if he would ever make it to the quarters of his supervisor Arthur Jones. Because of the approaching war with Holland, the Navy Board offices were bustling with activity, and every step of his way brought some new kind of obstacle. Admirals, captains, officers from the victualling yard, clerks like himself – everyone seemed to conspire to get in his way as he battled through the corridors of the large, imposing building.

  When he did finally make it to the top floor, John took a moment to straighten his clothes and try to get his breath back. Knocking on Mr Jones’s great oak door made him nervous at the best of times, but now he had to tell his chief that he’d left one of his employees on board the mysterious ship they’d been sent to investigate. Will’s scream still echoed in his head, taking John back to the river and the Doodgaan, its dark hull seeming to float not in the water but on a low-lying cushion of river mist. When he had regained consciousness, the mystery ship had disappeared – and Will with it. If it hadn’t been for the huge bruise on the side of his head where the grappling hook had hit him, it felt as if he could have dreamed the whole thing. But he didn’t dream it, and he urgently had to do something to put things right.

  Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand and knocked on Mr Jones’s door – but it was such a feeble sound there was no response from inside. It was always the same at times like this. Even after a year as a clerk at the Navy Board, John still felt like the poor boy from Shadwell who had been expected to follow in the footsteps of an ironsmith father who could barely read, or a grandfather who was an illiterate labourer. He tried again, this time overdoing it and surprising even himself by its loudness, which sent his heart racing once again.

  “Who would knock my door down?” roared a voice from inside the room.

  John turned the knob with a trembling hand and crept in. Arthur Jones sat at a vast, highly polished desk and was surrounded by books, ledgers and sheaves of paper. He was a very thin man and he had taken to covering his pale, bald head with one of those huge wigs that had become so fashionable since King Charles had returned from France wearing one. Mr Jones’s wig was a mass of auburn curls, which looked quite ridiculous perched on top of his little head.

  As John shuffled into the room, Jones peered down his long thin nose at him.

  “Ah, Turner. What of that ship?”

  John could barely swallow, his mouth was so dry. “Well, you see...”

  Mr Jones dipped his quill pen into an inkpot and continued with his work. “What, Turner? What do I see?”

  John took a deep breath. “Something is very wrong, sir. With the ship.”

  Mr Jones looked up and raised one eyebrow. “Is she sinking?”

  “No, sir. But I think there is something very bad on board.”

  Mr Jones put down his quill and gave John his full attention. “What do you mean, ‘very bad’?”

  “I’m ... I’m not sure, sir.”

  “You’re not sure.” Mr Jones shook his head resignedly. “Where is Will Brown?”

  “That’s just the thing. I think he’s still on the ship, sir.”

  “What?”

  “On the ship, sir. I think he’s still there.”

  Mr Jones stared at him in disbelief. “Why on earth would you leave him there?”

  “Well, I got hit on the head, sir. By the grappling hook,” John leaned forward and showed him the bruise on his head, “when I was trying to go on board to get him. After I heard him scream.”

  Mr Jones’s thin eyebrows knitted together. “Scream? Lord! I send the pair of you to undertake a simple task—”

  “But sir! I mean, I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but ... well...”

  “Oh, do spit it out, boy. I’m not going to bite your head off.”

  John wasn’t so sure about that, but he had been given permission to explain himself so he had to use it wisely.

  “Sir, Will is a very brave member of His Majesty’s Navy Board, not easily frightened...”

  “Hmm, unlike...” Mr Jones seemed to think better of what he was about to say and stopped himself. “All right, I understand what you are saying. Pray continue.”

  John tried to hide his resentment. Unlike you, is what Jones had been about to say. But his supervisor didn’t really know him. John knew he might look like a lowly clerk, but beneath his linen shirt beat the heart of a swashbuckling hero. Given the opportunity, at least. When he had joined the Navy Board, he’d had a vague notion that it would one day lead to him becoming a famous sea captain. But by the time John had realized that there was no route from the offices to the deck of a ship, his parents and six siblings had already come to rely on his pay.

  “Sir, you must believe me when I say that I think Will must have seen something on that ship – something very frightening, very dangerous – to make him scream the way he did.”

  “I dare say it was infested with rats or something.”

  John shook his head gravely. “With respect, sir, rats would not frighten Will. Please, we must act quickly!”

  Arthur Jones’s expression softened a little. He rose from his desk and went to the window, gazing out as if he might see through the buildings down to the river. “Perhaps I should take this information to the Commissioner of the Navy Board,” he said. “I have little doubt that Sir Roger Fortescue could make all the necessary arrangements to get Brown safely off the ship...”

  John took a deep breath. “There’s another problem, though, sir.”

  “What?”

  “The ship.”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s disappeared.”

  Mr Jones looked at him sharply. “What do you mean, ‘disappeared’?”

  “Exactly that, sir. When the grappling hook hit me I must have passed out, and when I came to, the ship had gone!” John felt his face starting to burn.

  Mr Jones started shaking his head really slowly, as
if John was the most idiotic person he’d ever had the misfortune to stare across a desk at. “I am sure that Sir Roger will be able to locate it, Turner. It can hardly have gone very far now, can it?”

  “N-no, s’pose not, sir.”

  “No, indeed.” Mr Jones shook his head despairingly. “Now, away with you to your book-keeping. There is a war coming!”

  John ran back down the stairs to the clerks’ office with a lighter heart. Although many sailors were away at sea, ready to fight the Dutch, plenty of them were still stationed around the Navy Board offices, and they could be deployed to take care of any difficulty Will might have got himself into. He made his way back through the bustling corridors with his head held high. There had been a problem but he, John, had solved it, even if he wasn’t an officer who would actually board the ship to retrieve Will. Everything was going to be all right, he told himself as he returned to his office. Still, it would be strange to see the chair next to his empty until they...

  John froze in the doorway and stared open-mouthed at Will’s chair.

  It was not empty.

  He blinked hard but his eyes were not deceiving him. There was someone sitting as large as life in Will’s place. Someone with a perfect, upright posture. Someone close to his own age, who radiated beauty and elegance. Someone who was wearing a dress!

  Chapter Four - An Invitation

  “You have a visitor,” whispered one of John’s older colleagues with a grin, as he strode past clutching a stack of files. “Much too pretty to be interested in you, though. Mention my name to her before she leaves, would you!”

  In a room full of crusty, ink-stained clerks, even with her back to him the girl shone out like a beacon. The fading autumn sunshine poured in through the window making her red, silken cloak glow and her long, wavy, brunette hair shine like silk. Then she turned. Her glittering green eyes lit up when she saw John and she slipped gracefully from the chair and approached him with her hand outstretched.

  Oh, Lord. Shake it or kiss it? Kiss or shake – quickly!

  John reached out and was in the act of a clumsy handshake when the visitor helped him out of his dilemma by raising her soft, warm hand up towards his mouth. He gave the back of her hand a dry-lipped peck, then forced an awkward smile.

  “You must be John Turner,” the girl said. She had a clear, melodic voice. “They said you might be able to help me. I am to be in a seafaring play at the King’s Theatre and it would help so much to know something of how the Navy works. My name’s Beth,” she beamed.

  Beth! It was her – the one they were all talking about. Beth Johnson, here. Now. And he was still holding her hand!

  Remembering his manners John quickly let go, causing her to laugh lightly, though not unkindly.

  Some sort of words came out of his mouth, of that there could be no doubt. He just wasn’t quite sure what they were, nor what they meant. If anything. But they must have been at least partly intelligible, because now she was thanking him.

  “It’s very kind of you, John.”

  He bowed deeply. “The pleasure is all yours – I mean, mine! Although, I hope it is yours too. But I don’t mean that in a ... that is, I do hope it didn’t sound too...” He wanted to stop speaking, but his mouth just seemed to keep going independently of his brain, like a runaway horse.

  Beth rescued him again. “There’s no need to apologize and I quite understand what you mean. So, John, it must be such exciting work here at the Navy Board.”

  He shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “Oh, no...” he began, but quickly caught himself. He couldn’t let Beth Johnson think he was just a boring clerk. “Well, not so much exciting as hugely interesting. And of the utmost importance to the nation!”

  Beth’s green eyes widened as she gazed up at him. “Oh, I’m sure it is! Will you be fighting the Dutch yourself?”

  “Yes! Er, in a way. From a distance. The Navy must run smoothly, and someone must make sure of the, er, smoothness.”

  “Quite! And there must be interesting events happening all the time, rumours of invasions...”

  “Daily!”

  “Espionage...”

  John glanced over his shoulder as if a spy might be creeping up on them right now. “Undoubtedly!”

  “Sightings of strange ships...”

  “Yes! In fact, only this morning I saw...” He quickly clamped his out-of-control mouth shut. What had happened that morning was something he didn’t want to think about – let alone talk about. “Well, I thought I saw a mystery ship. On the river. But I was probably mistaken.”

  “Oh?” Beth held his gaze for a moment.

  It felt almost as if she could read his mind, which was more than a little alarming considering what he was thinking as he gazed at her. He leaned on the edge of the desk to steady himself.

  “But,” Beth probed gently, “how can you be sure?”

  “How can I be sure of what?”

  “How can you be sure you were mistaken?”

  John felt his cheeks begin to burn again. “It was – it was very foggy,” he spluttered. “It could have been anything.”

  Beth nodded. “Floating along the river.”

  “Uh ... yes.”

  “And what about the crew?”

  “Oh no, there was no crew. Not a soul. I mean...” John squirmed. He felt as if he were a piece of mooring rope being tied in knots. An image of Will disappearing below the deck of the mysterious ship popped into his mind. He clenched his hands together to try to stop them from trembling. “It’s hard to say for certain.”

  Beth regarded him quizzically for a moment, then she smiled. “Well, you are at work so I don’t want to trouble you further now. But perhaps we could meet later to discuss the Navy in some more detail?” She produced a playbill from her pocket with a brief note written on it and handed it to him. “I am currently appearing in this play. Show this to the stage manager after the performance and you shall be allowed to see me backstage.”

  Before he could even answer, she pecked him on the cheek, then turned and swept from the room with the grace of a cat, the poise of a queen, the radiance of an angel. In John’s humble opinion.

  As he took his seat, the predictable outburst of sniggering and teasing from his colleagues broke the normal industrious silence of the office. He didn’t care. He barely even heard them. John Turner, most junior of junior clerks at the Navy Board, was going to the King’s Theatre, Drury Lane, as the special guest of Beth Johnson!

  Chapter Five - Behind the Door

  Beth left the busy Navy Board building and emerged on Seething Lane with a small smile of satisfaction playing on her lips. Asking to speak to a junior clerk had proved more fortuitous than she could ever have imagined. She felt certain that John Turner had seen the mystery ship Alan Strange had asked her to investigate, but she couldn’t really understand why he was acting so nervously. He was a tall, handsome boy – surprisingly so. His light brown hair and warm brown eyes were certainly appealing. But he was so easily flustered by her, it was almost off-putting. Although ... perhaps she was overestimating her effect on him – perhaps there was something about the ship that he didn’t want to disclose that had been making him so jumpy. She certainly sensed there was more than what he had told her. Still, what could be so scary about a ship that had run adrift?

  Beth pulled her hood down over her eyes and began weaving her way through the noisy, smelly, teeming London streets. She made a special point of avoiding the central drainage channel that ran down the centre of many of them, acting like a sort of open sewer. She thought back to the way John’s hands had started to tremble when she asked him about the ship’s crew. What had he seen that had made him so scared, she wondered. Perhaps Alan Strange’s hint that this might be a more important job was right after all.

  Still, John really had struck her as the kind of boy who would be scared of his own shadow, so maybe it was all in his head. She frowned, pondering. If John came to the theatre tonight – as she felt s
ure he would – she would get to the bottom of it, and then, surely, her spymaster would trust her with a truly thrilling and intriguing task?

  She crossed over to the other side of the street. A small church squatted in the shadows of a huge wrought-iron gate. Beth felt a chill run through her whole body as she looked up at the stone skull and crossbones glaring down at her from the top of the gate. With fearsome spikes protruding from the top of each skull, it seemed more like a prison than a church. Beth thought of the warm and cheery Peacock and Pie with Maisie waiting, and she pulled her cloak tight and hurried on her way.

  * * *

  John peered down into the gaping black hole that was the Doodgaan’s main hatchway. It was quiet. Too quiet. He laid a ready hand on his sword hilt. Glancing along the deck, he saw Beth keeping watch near the foremast. He wished she hadn’t insisted on coming. He could handle himself against any man. Indeed, his reputation caused many to tremble in his presence. But this was no place for a woman. Then suddenly, he saw movement behind her. Three men armed with cutlasses and daggers came rushing up the fore-hatchway. All of them were six – no, make that seven – feet tall, with scarred faces and powerful builds. Strangely, one resembled Arthur Jones, while the other two were identical to a couple of schoolmasters he had particularly hated...

  “Beth!” he cried. Calculating that by the time he had run the length of the main deck it would be too late, John pulled out his sword and cut through one of the mainstay ropes and used it to swing towards the attackers.

  “John!” Beth swooned. “Only you can save me now!”

  She screamed as the biggest of the villains – who must have been more than eight feet tall actually, with arms as big as tree trunks – swept Beth off her feet and held her above his head like a trophy.

  “Captain Jack Turner of the Revenge at your service!” he cried and, like a swooping hawk, John struck the man down as he swung past. Then he let go of the rope and performed a somersault over the head of another man, landing perfectly on...