Chapter 19: Unlikely Friends

December, 1812

When Bartleby returned three days later, it was to inform his captain that he had been able to reserve cabin accommodation on a sturdy brig headed for Penzance, via Plymouth, to weigh anchor in a week. Thus, after bidding farewell to neighbours and friends, Thomas and Mirabel, with Bartleby, left Guildford on the post chaise four days later. Mirabel was a little apprehensive, but she smiled bravely enough when they boarded the coach.

The journey to Portsmouth was uneventful, if cold, and Thomas saw to it that Mirabel was wrapped tightly in a warm sheepskin coat. Their fellow travellers were Navy officers, two lieutenants and a captain of the Royal Marines, who mostly kept quiet for fear of offending the high and mighty post-captain. They arrived around mid-afternoon, and Bartleby led them to an inn where he had made reservations for his captain and for Mirabel.

It was only then that Thomas realised an important omission. Any young lady of consequence travelled with a maidservant, and there was none for Mirabel. He mentioned this, but she shrugged and told him that she could manage things by herself. Still, Thomas found an agency near the harbour where he inquired about a servant willing to travel, but the owner had nobody available on such short notice, and so close to Christmas, who would be able and willing to travel. Thomas resigned to hiring somebody locally at Gibraltar.

Thus, they were still a party of three when they boarded the brig Cornish Maid on the eve of sailing. Thomas and Mirabel’s tiny cabins were side by side whilst Bartleby berthed with two other servants on the deck below. They had dinner in the after cabin with the master and two fellow travellers, a grain merchant and a ship chandler. After that, they retired to their cabins.

The bustling of the ship weighing anchor had Thomas out of his cot and on deck by 4 bells. He was in his shirt, but wrapped in his great coat, as he watched the ten man crew getting in the anchor and setting sail. The master acknowledged him with a curt ‘Good Morning, Sir’, but concentrated on piloting his ship our of the crowded anchorage.

Once the Cornish Maid was well on her way, Thomas went down below and lit the lamp in his cabin to dress properly. From the other side of the bulkhead, he could hear Mirabel moving about too, and she followed him as he ascended to the deck again. Together they watched the lights on the land move by as the small ship heeled over a little in the week breeze. The wind was south-easterly Thomas noted, almost perfect for a quick journey to Plymouth, and there was no sign of it changing in the near future.

Indeed, as the grey Christmas morning dawned, the brig was making good speed on her west-southwesterly course, having to contend with only a moderate sea. Mirabel held up quite well on her first day at sea, feeling no seasickness at all. The grain merchant was not as lucky, and spent most of the day bent over the lee railing.

He missed the Christmas dinner, which in Thomas’s opinion was no great loss for him. After the meal, Thomas and Mirabel stayed in the after cabin which doubled as common room, with Thomas perusing a newspaper and Mirabel reading a travel novel. When the light outside waned, a steward lit oil lamps to aid with their reading. They spent some time on deck then, to fill their lungs with fresh air, before supper was served in the cabin. They were surprised by Tim Bartleby who had been able to prepare a decent supper for his captain and for Mirabel, by which means Thomas neither knew nor cared.

The wind was still holding when Thomas and Mirabel retired to their cabins for the night, and he expected them to reach Plymouth some time after noon on the next day. The evening log cast had shown five and a half knots, good enough under the conditions. More importantly, the wind had been steady all day, promising similar conditions for the next day.

Indeed, when the next morning dawned, the Cornish Maid was still on a steady course plowing through the choppy waves of the English Channel. A short conversation with the Master confirmed Thomas’s expectations. They would reach Plymouth a little after noon time.

With this confirmed, Thomas joined Mirabel and the other passengers at table for a frugal breakfast. The grain merchant was only nibbling on a ship’s biscuit and nursing on a tea cup, but Mirabel showed an appetite, and so did the fourth passenger.

As expected, they slipped into the Hamoaze shortly after two bells in the Afternoon Watch, and by four bells they made fast at a quay near Stonehouse Pool. Bartleby found a cab and with the help of the driver stowed their sea chests. A few minutes saw later them in front of the Golden Hind Inn where they found lodging for the next days.

Bartleby took off again to inquire about ships heading for Gibraltar whilst Thomas and Mirabel used the opportunity for a brief afternoon nap in their comfortable beds. It was a while after dark before Bartleby returned, reporting that the next regular packet for Gibraltar would be due five days hence. Thomas had given Bartleby enough funds, and the trusted steward had reserved passage, cabins and meals for them.

After informing Mirabel of the plans, Thomas then set out to find the office of Mr. Charles Portnoy, the prize agent. Mr. Portnoy was in and greeted Thomas enthusiastically. Yes, the gold had arrived in England, had been weighed and tallied, and bought up by the Bank of England, which was infamously short of gold reserves and had paid a premium. The coined gold and silver had been bought by other banks that were active in the foreign trade, and the spirits had also found buyers immediately. The brigantine itself had sold for £2,350, bringing the total sum up to a staggering £98,538 18s 11d as Mr. Portnoy showed. Mr. Portnoy’s agency charged a fee in the amount of 4.2%, leaving £94,399 8s for distribution. Of this sum, Thomas was entitled to a full quarter, £23,599 19s 10d as Mr. Portnoy elaborated. The wardroom officers would share £11,800, or £1,686 each.

Mr. Portnoy then asked for Thomas’s bank house, and he named Crombie & Fitzhugh in Guildford. Mr. Portnoy assured Thomas that the funds would be forwarded. The shares of the officers and crews would be kept in trust and invested in the Funds to draw interest until such time when Dido would return to England. Thomas received duplicates of the documents for his officers and crew, but also for Sir Edward Pellew who would also receive an eighth as admiral’s share.

Thomas had to accept a glass of Mr. Portnoy’s finest brandy to toast the windfall, and he left the prize agent’s office as a rather rich man. Not counting the lands, he was now worth over £34,000, a fortune by anyone’s standard. Invested wisely, the money would set him up for a life in modest luxury. That was, if he would survive the myriad of dangers a sailor had to face. In that, the money had not changed anything he admitted to himself with an inward shrug.

Nevertheless, he stopped at a jeweller’s shop on the way back to the inn and bought a beautiful brooch, a large haematite carved and polished into a black rose, for Mirabel. For Angela Benning, he found a very nice, two-tiered pearl necklace. He also inquired about the best place to dine and was directed to Lanier’s Pie House.

He found Mirabel in the common room of the inn, in front of the fire and reading a book. Hearing his entry, she looked up with a smile.

“You are back. Did you achieve all that you planned?”

Thomas smiled. “That and more. The prize and cargo have been disposed. I will clear almost £24,000 from this.”

Mirabel’s eyes went wide. “That’s a fortune! I am so happy for you! Do you think that we might celebrate just a little?”

“Yes, indeed. We shall dine at Lanier’s Pie House tonight. It is supposedly the best eatery in town. Here, I found something that I thought you might like.”

Mirabel gave him a small smile and opened the wrapping. Then her eyes went wide again.

“Oh, Thomas! This is absolutely beautiful! Is this for me?”

“Of course! I thought it might look good on you.”

“That must have cost a...”

“Ssh! It is a present. It is meant for you to wear.”

“Thank you, Thomas! I shall cherish it. Should I wear it tonight at dinner?”

“By all means, yes. Now, why don’t we change and get ready to leave? I am quite hungry myself, and you must be famished too.”

With another smile, Mirabel rose and took Thomas’s offered arm. He walked her upstairs to her room and then went to his own to change into a fresh shirt. He used water and soap and a washcloth to clean his torso before he slipped into the fresh clothes. After a brief contemplation, he put on silk stockings, new breeches and his new Nº2 uniform coat. The honour sword added to his outward appearance as he found when he regarded his image in the somewhat blind mirror in his room, as did the new shoes with the buckles made of bullion. He looked almost like one of those captains from the nobility.

When the door of Mirabel’s room opened, he had to admit that his company for the evening left nothing to desire either. Mirabel looked radiant in one of her new dresses, even though the neckline was rather modest. It accentuated her slim waist and drew attention to her proud bosom. Her hair was tied back, but curly ringlets were framing her face, revealing her slender neck and her small ears. She was absolutely lovely, Thomas noticed.

“You look stunning, Mirabel,” he said, causing a deep blush.

“I am only trying to be a match for a most handsome captain,” she nevertheless returned.

Thomas had to laugh. “Nobody will notice me with you at my side.”

He walked her downstairs on his arm where they found the cab Thomas had ordered waiting for them. A minute or two later, the cab was rattling down the street. Plymouth was busy, not only due to the large Royal Navy presence, but also due to its importance as a merchant city, as attested by the respectable houses on either sides of the streets. After five minutes, the cab came to a halt in front of a brightly lit eating house.

“Lanier’s, gov’nor,” the driver announced, and Thomas helped his lady from the cab and payed the driver. For a moment, they stood looking at the pie house, but then Thomas offered his arm and they entered. Inside, a livered waiter looked them over briefly before nodding.

“Good evening, Captain, Madam,” he intoned. “Do you wish to dine, Sir?”

“Yes, indeed. This house was recommended to me by Mr. Billings, the jeweller. A table by the windows if that’s possible?”

“Of course, Sir,” the waiter said eagerly, his eyes taking in the gilded sword, the expensive uniform, but also the well dressed, beautiful young woman at Thomas’s side. This was a large harbour city. Here, women of colour were a common sight and signified a refined taste and deep pockets on the part of the gentlemen accompanying them. Thomas and Mirabel were led to a small table near the largest street side window. Next to their table sat a party of four, a rear-admiral and a senior captain, with their ladies. Thomas halted briefly and bowed.

“Captain Thomas Grey, Sirs, of the Dido frigate,” he introduced himself.

Both officers stood politely,

“Rear-admiral James O’Bannon, Captain.”

“Captain Henry Hotham, late of Northumberland.”

“Delighted to meet you, Sirs. May I introduce my cousin, Miss Goodwin?”

“Enchanted, Miss,” Admiral O’Bannon replied. “My wife, Mrs. O’Bannon, and Mrs. Hotham.”

“I am pleased to meet you, Gentlemen and Ladies,” Mirabel replied with a curtsey. “Are you by any chance the Captain Hotham who destroyed the two French frigates in May?”

“Indeed, Miss. You are well informed.”

“I always peruse the Gazette as soon as it arrives. We are a Navy family,” Mirabel answered proudly.

Admiral O’Bannon chuckled. “A young lady right after my heart. Why don’t you join us? There’s room at the table, and we haven’t ordered yet.”

Of course, there was only one answer. “With the greatest pleasure, Sir!”

The waiter quickly set the table for two more people, and Thomas helped Mirabel to sit.

“I knew a Commander Theodore Grey, Captain. Are you any relation?” Hotham asked politely.

“My late father, Sir. He and my mother perished in a tragic accident three months ago. Sir Edward Pellew gave me leave to return to England and order my affairs.”

“Oh, I am very sorry to hear that, Captain. He was a fine officer. Are you the only son?”

“Yes, although my cousin was like a daughter to my parents. We decided that she will live with my former captain’s wife in Gibraltar. That way we can see each other every once in a while.”

“You will love it there, my dear,” Mrs. O’Bannon smiled, patting Mirabel’s hand. “It is very lovely there, and the climate is pleasant. There are also many eligible young gentlemen there and not too many young ladies,” she ended with a small chuckle.

Mirabel blushed a little. “I look forward to the adventure,” she answered.

After the waiter took their orders, the talk at the table split up between the ladies and the men. From what snippets of talk Thomas was able to catch, Mirabel participated eagerly, drawing on her time as Lady Norton’s companion and regaling the older ladies with the antics of London’s society.

For his part, Thomas was discussing the current military situation with the senior officers. They were all of the opinion that Bonaparte was far from being beaten, in spite of the appalling losses his Grande Armee was suffering on its retreat from Russia. For his own part, Thomas could report on the situation on the Peninsula, where the French had lost the initiative. He also mentioned the ships loaded with French loot trying to reach Barcelona or even the small ports of the Roussillion region. It was inevitable that his own exploits came up, and both senior officers nodded with satisfaction hearing about the impact of the small frigate squadron.

At one point, Hotham tilted his head and asked, “Captain, a few weeks ago, a large shipment of bullion arrived. Was that part of your prizes?”

Thomas nodded. “Yes, Sir. We caught a brigantine carrying gold and silver bullion. It was mostly the loot collected by a single French general.”

O’Bannon nodded. “The cargo was worth almost £100,000 from what I heard.”

Thomas nodded again. “It was close to that, but of course the prize agent took out his fee.”

“That should establish you nicely, Captain Grey. Have you been able to bring order into your affairs during the stay?”

“I was able to find a capable caretaker for our lands, but I also met with most of the important neighbours.”

At this point, Mrs. O’Bannon perked up noticeably. The prize money under discussion plus the mention of lands put the young captain firmly in the eligible category. He was tall and good looking too, not that this mattered a lot when considering a future son-in-law. Mrs O’Bannon, it should be known, had a daughter of almost marriage age.

“Will you stay long in Plymouth, my dear?” she therefore asked Mirabel.

“We shall be leaving on the packet in five days,” Mirabel answered readily.

“Oh, but you must visit us!” Mrs. O’Bannon enthused. “James, dear, we should have Captain Grey and Miss Goodwin for dinner.”

“Err, yes, of course. Splendid idea, really. You’re leaving when, Captain?”

“In five days, Sir.”