CHAPTER 26
Sheffield looked up from the chart and pushed back his chair. “So, given the size of Lyman’s Baltimore Clipper, I think we’ve identified the three most likely places for it to be hiding—”
“There’s a fourth,” interjected Cordelia, tapping a finger to a spot on the south side of the river.
“This narrow crevasse of water, just above Mill Stairs, is a perfect refuge. It’s a seedy area, catering to small lighters moving goods up and down the river, yet it’s wide enough and deep enough for a large ship.
And the bend of the river provides an extra measure of privacy. ”
Wrexford studied it for a moment. “I see your point. I’ll send word to our urchins to have a look.
” He was careful to avoid identifying the boys as Raven and Hawk.
Daggett might have observed the boys at the Royal Botanic Gardens, and while he trusted the American, there was no reason for the fellow to know all of the family secrets.
“How the devil do you intend to do that?” Daggett had gone to stand by the window overlooking the river. “They’re scattered helter-pelter from here to London Bridge.”
“You underestimate the wharf rats,” responded the earl dryly.
“One of the ways they survive is to work as sentries for the thieving rings that plague the docklands. They know how to set up a very sophisticated network of communication.” He glanced at the door.
“There’s a boy waiting in the outer office.
When I dispatch him with a message, it will make its way very quickly to one of our two leaders. ”
Daggett pulled a pocket watch from his coat and clicked it open. “We’ve now less than six hours.”
“I will be back momentarily.”
When Wrexford returned, the American had his back turned to the room and was staring out over the water, whose lead-dark ripples were frothed with dots of foam from rising breezes.
Charlotte and Cordelia had busied themselves making tea on the coal stove in the corner. Steam rose in a curling plume from the pot as they filled five cups and began to pass them around.
Without a word, Sheffield went through the side door into his office and came back with a bottle of whisky. “I think we all could do with a wee dram to fortify our spirits.”
“Are you passing out miracles, as well as malt?” muttered Daggett. He waved off the cup and turned his gaze back to the river. The cutters and wherries of the rivermen were heading upstream, carried along on the swirling currents of the flooding tide.
Wrexford ignored the comment. He was sure the urchins would find the ship. The question of how they were going to free Tyler, once they located it, was a far more daunting challenge.
“Hell’s teeth.” Daggett suddenly turned around from the mullioned glass. “We’ve been looking at the problem from the wrong end of the spyglass! We don’t have to find Lyman’s bloody ship. We just have to stop it from sailing out to sea.”
“But—” began Cordelia.
“But how?” he finished for her. “It’s quite simple.
We commandeer one of the British war frigates docked at the naval yard in Greenwich.
” Daggett pulled out the official documents and shook them triumphantly.
“These give us permission to do so. All we have to do is lie in wait for Lyman’s ship.
A frigate outguns it, and with no room to maneuver, Lyman will have no choice but to surrender or be blown out of the water.
” A pause. “And I don’t really care which option he chooses. ”
“But we do,” said Wrexford. “Tyler is captive on Lyman’s ship.”
“You can hire another valet, milord,” snapped Daggett.
In a flash, the earl coiled a fist, but Charlotte seized his arm before he could throw a punch.
“Tyler is part of our family, Captain Daggett,” she said. “We’ve a bond that runs far deeper than blood.”
“Forgive me—that was badly voiced.” The American met Wrexford’s scowl without flinching. “But as a military man, milord, you are aware that however difficult, we must be ruthlessly pragmatic in making strategic decisions. If Lyman escapes, he’ll continue to wreak havoc on countless lives.”
“If you blow the ship to kingdom come, you’ll destroy Becton’s plant specimen,” countered Charlotte, “which will help save far more lives than Lyman will ever harm. So if you wish to go merely by the numbers, they, too, are on our side.”
Giving thanks for Charlotte’s quick thinking, the earl held his tongue. That they had the drawing of the plant was a detail Daggett didn’t need to know. After all, it might take years to locate it in its natural habitat.
“I’ve a better strategy,” continued Charlotte.
“You go to the naval yard at Greenwich and organize a blockade of the river. Every frigate carries a detachment of Royal Marines, so using the longboats, it will be easy to deploy a formidable boarding party to row out and seize Lyman’s ship.
Its crew members are hired mercenaries. Announce that no criminal charges will be brought against them, and they will flee like rats from a sinking ship. ”
“And while you are handling those logistics,” said Wrexford, after catching Charlotte’s eye, “we’ll take charge of rescuing Tyler and the specimen.”
Daggett muttered an oath under his breath. “You know, I could use these documents to have the lot of you arrested so you can’t interfere in government business.”
“To do that, you would have to pass by me,” growled Sheffield.
“And me,” added Cordelia, snatching up a heavy brass sextant from one of the shelves.
“I don’t think violence will be necessary,” said Charlotte. “As you’ve pointed out, Captain, you’re a pragmatic man. So you see that my suggestion allows us to satisfy the demands of both reason and emotion.”
A tiny muscle twitched as Daggett clenched and unclenched his jaw. And then he chuffed a laugh. “Much as it galls me to surrender to a British opponent, I know when I’ve met my match.”
“In this, our two countries have a truce, so your honor is saved, Daggett,” pointed out Wrexford.
“Then I shall hold my chin up high as I leave—assuming Mr. Sheffield doesn’t plant me a facer.” He inclined a small bow to Cordelia. “And that Lady Cordelia doesn’t crack my skull.”
Cordelia set aside her makeshift weapon. “You’re quite safe now. Just don’t threaten my friends again.”
“Loyalty is an admirable trait,” he answered.
“It’s more than loyalty,” she answered. “But we won’t quibble over your choice of language.”
“Yes, let us not, as that’s another fight I won’t win,” answered Daggett.
“I’m not very good with words. I prefer to let my actions speak for me.
” He turned for the door. “Perhaps if we manage to triumph over the dastards, we’ll merit a drawing by that fellow, A.
J. Quill—a distinction that I’m told means that you’re the talk of London. ”
“For the most part, being the subject of Quill’s pen isn’t something one wishes to experience,” replied Cordelia. “There have, however, been some exceptions.”
Daggett tucked his documents away. “Well, let us hope this is one of them.”
“Indeed,” murmured Wrexford. “Heaven forfend we draw Quill’s ire.”
“As time is of the essence, Captain,” said Sheffield, after clearing his throat with a cough, “allow me to show you where you may get a hackney for the trip to Greenwich.”
Charlotte waited for the sound of the front portal of the building falling shut behind the two men before clicking the latch shut on the meeting-room door.
“Please stubble the sly retorts about A. J. Quill. Daggett already knows enough of my secrets—and if given the slightest hint, he’s clever enough to guess that one. ”
“Forgive me.” Cordelia flashed an apologetic grimace. “But in truth, a man would need a very lurid imagination, and in my experience, few possess a mind that can stray from the straight and narrow.”
“I agree with Charlotte,” interjected the earl.
“He’s not someone with whom to trifle.” His brow furrowed in consternation.
“Nor is von Stockhausen. It’s his unspeakable cleverness that has set all this in motion, and yet for the last little while, we’ve been focusing on Lyman, his hired henchman, as if he were the puppet master of the plot. ”
Drawn by some silent force, the three of them sat down around the table. The chart of the river lay open upon the dark-grained oak, a sea-blue snake undulating through the heart of London.
“Any idea of how we spirit both Tyler and the plant off the ship?” asked Cordelia.
Think. Think. Wrexford began to drum his fingers on the tabletop.
The fraught silence was broken by Sheffield’s hurried return. “What have I missed?” he demanded.
“A reminder that von Stockhausen has propagated all these heinous crimes,” answered the earl. “Along with the question of how we are going to free Tyler and the specimen from his clutches.”
“Why the blue-deviled faces?” Sheffield pulled out a chair to join them. “We’ve beaten devious criminals before.” He swiveled the chart and leaned down to study the serpentine curl of the river near the East India docks. “And we shall do so again.”
* * *
Like love, Charlotte considered optimism to be a very positive, powerful force.
But in this case, she feared that it might be just wishful thinking rather than grounded in reality.
The humble-jumble curlicues of ink, showing all the myriad juts and bights of the river’s north and south banks, defined the enormity of their task.
She closed her eyes for an instant, trying to keep tears from welling up. A world without Tyler . . .
No! Charlotte refused to allow pessimism to crush her spirit.
“I still say that’s the most likely spot,” muttered Cordelia, pointing out the slivered indentation of water on the south shore opposite the East India Company’s main mercantile hub.
“I’ve dispatched a message to Raven, alerting him of the possibility,” said Wrexford. “Much as I hate inaction, we ought not run off helter-pelter until we have word from the lads.”
The flesh was drawn tight over the bones of his face. Charlotte’s heart ached for him. She knew he would blame himself if anything happened to Tyler. He had been snappish with the valet about involving Hawk, however inadvertently, in Becton’s murder.
But ye heavens, Tyler knew the earl’s bark held no bite.
“Agreed,” said Sheffield. “But that’s even more reason for us to come up with a plan.”
Wrexford rose abruptly and went to gaze out the bank of windows.
The clouds had thickened, mirroring the leaden mood in the room.
Charlotte resisted the urge to rise and join him.
After several long moments, Sheffield, too, got up and moved to the mullioned glass, though he chose the opposite end of the casement.
Mist was beginning to rise up from the swirling currents, blurring the shape of the river.
Charlotte looked back down at the chart. “How many men would make up the crew of Lyman’s ship,” she asked Cordelia in a low whisper.
“Too many to think that an outright assault would have any hope of—”
A clattering in the entrance foyer caused all of them to look to the door. It opened an instant later as McClellan shouldered her way into the room.
“I know you asked me to stay at the house and keep the Weasels there if they returned home, m’lady,” announced the maid. “But I thought it imperative that you see this.”
She slapped a note down atop the chart. “Riche received this and, given the recent murders, he took the liberty of reading it. He then sent it on to me, in case I knew where you and the earl had gone.” A huff of relief slipped from her lips as she spotted Wrexford. “Thank heaven you’re both here.”
Charlotte quickly unfolded it and read it over.
“It’s from Moretti. He says he just recalled who was asking questions about Becton’s work.
” A sigh. “Alas, it’s simply telling us what we already know.
” To McClellan, she explained, “We already discovered for ourselves that von Stockhausen is the villain.”
“How—” began McClellan.
“Sit down, Mac,” said Wrexford. He poured a measure of whisky into a cup and carried it to her.
“Oh, bloody hell, what trouble has Tyler got himself into?” muttered the maid. “I’ll wring his neck if he’s put the Weasels in peril.”
“First we have to free him from the villain’s clutches—with his neck intact,” replied the earl. “And then you’ll have to stand in line for your turn to rattle every bone in his body.”
McClellan took a swallow of the malt. “I take it we have a plan?”
The question seemed to grow louder and louder as it echoed through the gloom. When no one answered right away, the maid stared meditatively into her cup. “That bad, eh?”
“Raven and Hawk have gathered a band of their friends and are searching both banks of the river to find where the ship is hiding until the tide turns.” Charlotte hurriedly recounted all that had happened over the last several hours.
“So Daggett is friend, not foe,” mused McClellan.
“We might not feel that way if he has the Royal Navy blow Tyler and the specimen to flinders,” observed Wrexford.
“So we need to rescue both captives before Lyman’s ship reaches Greenwich, where an armed-to-the-teeth frigate is waiting.
However, short of launching our own flotilla of warships and forcing the enemy’s surrender, I’m not quite sure . . .”
He let his words sink into silence.
Charlotte tried to fight off a feeling of defeat. They had all been extraordinarily lucky in dodging terrible dangers in the past. But Lady Luck was notoriously fickle.
“You know . . .” Sheffield remained staring out at the river for a moment longer before turning to face them. “Those little wherries and lighters skim over the waves like water bugs . . .” He gestured out at the rippling currents.
Charlotte realized he was right. She hadn’t really taken notice of it, but the river was teeming with the white sails of numerous small cargo boats plying their trade.
“And like bugs,” he continued, “no one pays them the least attention.”
“Surely, you’re not suggesting we put together a fleet of them to attack Lyman’s ship?” The earl made a face. “Even if we could man them with a force of experienced fighters, we would never get close. As a privateer, the ship is armed with cannons, and a crew who knows how to use them.”
“An outright attack would, of course, be doomed to failure,” agreed Sheffield. “However . . .” He rubbed two fingers against the point of his chin. “Growing up, I used to sail every summer with my cousins off the coast of Bournemouth.”
“Kit, pleasant though they may be, now is not the best time to wax poetic on childhood memories,” said Wrexford with a note of sarcasm.
“Bear with me, Wrex,” came the reply. “I have an idea that I’d like to float by everyone . . .”