The Guinea Thief - Chapter 9 - Spook Lane - Part One

On winters nights the talk in the Royal Oak would often shift to the ghosts that were said to haunt the ruins of Warblington Castle, just half a mile along the Langstone shore. All Hallows Eve was just two nights away and Jack had goosebumps, despite sitting in front of an open fire. Fred was an excellent story teller, the long days and nights at sea had given him lots of time to practise and a willing audience. The thought of a headless horseman riding down Pook Lane, the horse rearing at the sight of the castle in flames was enough to ensure that no-one in their right mind would choose to wander down that lane at night. Fred swore the ghost was searching for souls to snatch in revenge for the loved ones lost in the fire that destroyed the castle three hundred years before.
So enthralled were they with Fred’s story, no-one noticed Georges walk in through the back of the bar. He threw his hat and gloves down on the table. He was wearing his best riding boots and a green velvet waistcoat. He could not have looked more out of place. Jack and the others were dressed for a winter’s night down on the shore.
“Sit yourself down.” Robert handed him a stool. “Let’s get you a drink. Fred, a bottle of rum and four glasses. So Georges, you ready for tonight?”
Georges’ father may have been a smuggler, but it was quite clear to Jack and the others that Georges was not.
“Oui. My horse is at the back. I have packed up all my things. I don’t know if I’ll come back from London.”
He leaned forward and whispered, “The Comte has promised me a meeting with Pitt. This money will open many doors for me. It is very pleasing to me that it is Napoleon’s money which will be paying the men who will bring about his downfall. ”
Fred put the rum and the glasses on the table.
“Let’s drink to our success.” said Robert filling the four glasses with rum.
Georges stood up “Death to Napoleon!” His voice rang out around the bar.
Robert, Jack and Fred quickly stood up too.
“We’ll drink to that. Death to Napoleon!”
The men downed their rum, Jack had managed just half and put his glass down spluttering. Robert patted him on the shoulders.
“Don’t worry lad. It’s not the best rum. But it gets easier the more you drink. Knock the rest back and you’ll see. We are going to need it to keep the cold out tonight.”
Jack picked up his glass and cheerfully sunk the rest of the rum.
“My men are waiting for us along the shore at the old church. We’re expecting Jacques to land about two o’clock. The tide is against us tonight, he’ll have to wait until the channel is deep enough to float across the mud.”
“What do we do till then?”
“We wait, we drink and we tell stories.”
Robert put his hand to his beard. “One thing Georges. Did you see the cutter in the harbour as you came in?”
“The boat with two masts?”
“Aye, that’s her. The Antigone. She’s a revenue boat and she’s been moored out there the past three days. It’s a moonless night, so they’re hoping we are planning a run and they can catch us in the act. We need to lure them out of the harbour and far enough away so that Jacques can slip his boat safely down the channel.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
“A dummy run. Down the opposite side of the island.”
Georges nodded approvingly. “Bonne idée.”
“I’ve cut a deal with Tom Ollery, he leads the crew that works the Langstone shore. His men are going to lead the Revenue boys down to Sinah Warren. When we get the signal its safe we’ll be ready and waiting on the shore for Jacques.”
Robert tugged at his beard. “One thing Georges. Tom’s men are going to need paying. This wasn’t in my original plan. ”
“How you do this is your problem, not mine. We agreed a price.”
“Aye we did. But it’s gone up. We need to lose the Revenue men or we can’t run the gold ashore. If you don’t want your gold that’s fine. I’ll tell Tom he and his men can go home and sleep sound in their beds tonight. “
Robert stood up. “Tom, over ‘ere.”
A small wiry man at the far end of the bar came over. Asleep at his feet had been an enormous grey dog. The dog opened one eye, roused himself and padded across to stand beside his owner. An Irish wolfhound, the dog reached up to the man’s chest and more than made up for his owner’s lack of height.
“I didn’t know they allowed ponies in here Tom.”
“Just mine.” said Tom grinning. “And if I wants I can bring a cow in here, and no-one’ll say nothing.” His grin revealed a mouthful of blackened rotting teeth. His beard was grey and curly. Whether the owner had come to look like his dog or whether he had chosen this dog because of his looks was hard to say. But this was the biggest dog Jack had ever seen in his life.

Tom sat down on a spare stool at Robert’s table.
“So is it on?”
“It’s not for me to say.” said Robert. “This is the man with the money. He seems to be having second thoughts.”
“Is he now?” Tom turned to look at Georges.
“Frenchie is ee?”
“Aye he is.”
“Thought so. Looks a bit shifty to me. Do ya trust him Robert?”
“About as far as I can throw him.”
Tom laughed. “Well I think you’ve about got the size of him. So Monsieur Georges, is we on or not? Coz my men are more’n happy to spend a night a’bed, not freezing their arses off in the mud for some frog. ”
Georges looked across at Robert and shrugged his shoulders in the gallic way. “Combien?”
“A shilling a man, ten men; plus Tom here gets ten shillings for loaning you his men for the night. So a round pound should do it.”
“A pound, c’est ridicule!”
“If we don’t have a diversion the Revenue’ll get us. It’s a simple as that. So you pay the extra or you lose the cargo. Your choice. It makes no difference to me. I can get a signal to Jacques from Sandy Point before he even enters the channel. I’ll make an arrangement another night for my brandy.”
“An I want it now, in full, before I leaves. I have a feeling I shan’t be seeing you again. ”
“I hope not.” said Georges as he slipped a pound note across the table.
“I can’t use that. How am I going to pay me men with that?”
Georges looked angry. “Robert, je suis pas habitué a tant d’insolence.”
Robert reached across and took the note from Tom’s hand.
“Don’t worry Tom I’ll sort it. It’s on. Go get your men.”
“Will do Robert. We’ll settle up in the morning.” Tom picked up his tri-cornered hat, put it on his hand then tipped the left corner toward Georges.
“Mersy Mossewer. Pleasure doin business wit you. “ he grinned and revealed the blackened teeth again. Tom left the pub followed by his wolf hound. Shortly afterwards a man peeled himself from the far corner of the bar and headed after him. Robert spat on the floor.
“Revenue man.”
Georges looked concerned.
“Don’t worry. We knew he was here. Tom’ll take care of em. We can rest a little now. Once the Revenue cutter sets off after Tom we can head down to the shore. Georges, as soon as you’ve got the gold, load up your saddle bags and head north to Rowland’s Castle. Take the path through the Forest of Bere and follow it onto the London road. I’ve drawn you a map. When you get to Steep, you can rest up at the Sheeps Head. They’ll be expecting you.
Robert pushed a piece of paper across the table.
“This map’ll get you as far as the Inn, from there they’ll tell you the best roads to take. The nearer you get to London the more you’re going to need to watch out for highway men, so the most direct road is not always the best. Myself I try not to go north, unless I have to.”