“Well, Matthew, you are full of surprises.  I never thought that you could show so much nerve!  Garbett is not an easy man to best like that!  He’ll not like it, you know.”  Nathaniel was being most companionable as we climbed the steps from the cellars. 

If there was one thing I knew now, it was that Nathaniel was an oily serpent that I would be unwise to clutch to my breast.  There would be no succour from him should I require it.  He would sell me to the Pharisees for less than thirty pieces of silver.  Despite that, I resolved that it would be best that I keep our relationship on easy terms. 

“How on Earth did you become entangled with these fellows, Nathaniel? You have a fine position here.  Why endanger it in an enterprise as risky as this?” 

He paused and looked at me for a moment with a kind of deep melancholy.  Sighing, he spoke at last, “Matthew, you know my father was a colonel?” 

 I nodded. 

“He did well in the wars, secured a fine estate, a fine marriage and had sturdy children.  All my brothers and sisters survived our childhood and we have all made good livings.  This does not seem to be enough for my father.  He flies into rages, beats my mother and his servants, rants and raves about battles long past and has taken solace in the bottle.” 

I was shocked.  Colonel Broadbank had always seemed a very merry fellow and always been kind to me whenever I had visited.  Amiable and hospitable, I had often observed him about his gardens doting on some rose or other plant.  Beat a fellow?  Colonel Broadbank?  Surely not?  “Nathaniel,” I said, “I am most heartily sorry.  I did not know.” 

“He has drunk his living dry.  He has become mad for speculation with those money men of The City and his drinking has trapped him in rash decisions.  His money is gone and there is nothing left.”  Nathaniel looked at me with loathing.  “I despise a drunkard, Matthew, they leave so much more than empty bottles in their wake.” 

“Come on, gents, we must be moving!”  Jack insisted from behind us. 

“We must not tarry, Matthew, we must be away before Garbett is found.”  

“W-w-w-what’s the fucking hold up?”  Ramsbottom’s voice whined from the bottom of the steps.  “Are they a pack of women up there, n-n-nattering on like th-th-that?” 

Nathaniel lead the way and our small party exited the Treasury, returning to the cart in the courtyard.  Troopers remained on guard, seemingly unaware of the commotion that had occurred in the cellars.  It was not surprising, the cellars were deep and the door made of the sort of timbers usually found on a castle gate.  A sergeant strolled between the troopers, chatting quietly to each in turn.  When he saw us he made his way to Nathaniel and saluted. 

“Sergeant,” Nathaniel said. “We are to accompany Captain Blake and his men back to their ship.”  I was momentarily confused at the identity of Captain Blake but then remembered that Mr Ramsbottom was still nominally in charge, in his guise of the deceased sea officer. “They have a consignment of documents to return to the Lords Commissioners. These are important documents so Captain Garbett thought it best that you detail a guard.  It need not be many; the Captain leaves it to your discretion.” 

It seemed that the soldiers of Tangier were used to Nathaniel issuing instructions because the young man merely saluted again and strode off calling four men by name. It should not have surprised me; Nathaniel spoke with the Governor Cholmeley’s voice in all things in that eminent personage’s absence.  

“Oh, and Sergeant!”  Nathaniel called after the soldier. 

“Yes, sir?” 

“Mr Luke and the Captain are not to be disturbed until the count is complete.  Pray do not enter the Treasury unless it is absolutely necessary.” 

“Yes, sir!”  The sergeant salute for a third time then turned on his heel to proceed with his arrangements. 

My shipmates behind us let out a sigh of relief, which, had it been any louder, would have surely raised some suspicions from the so-called elite troopers.  They may have been battle hardened but they appeared somnolent in their saddles, disinterested in what was happening about them.  I could only presume that these midnight forays to the Treasury were a regular routine for them, an inconvenient duty that interrupted the normal life of a garrison town, viz: drinking, dicing and whoring. 

Ramsbottom stepped forward and bustled about ordering men this way and that.  I knew that he would pay for this later.  No sailor likes an uppity jack tar, even if he was only acting the part of the Captain.  Buggery or a beating or both were in Ramsbottom’s future, of that I could be sure. 

What passed for brains among the troopers appeared not to have been exercised much at the sight of our men struggling under the bulk of the chests.   Did they not wonder at the weight of these documents that were being loaded?  I suppose that wit is not the most sought after skill when finding men to charge a line of pike or musketeers.   

It took several journeys to complete the loading.  Chests, bags and boxes were piled up so much that they required tying down.  The cart creaked under the strain but thankfully nothing broke. 

Eventually, we had loaded all on the cart.  Jones and Ramsbottom climbed onto the back, along with Nathaniel.  There was no room for the rest of us, our place was to walk beside the sturdy wheels and dodge the piles of crap that littered Tangier’s streets. 

At a signal from the sergeant, the gates to the courtyard opened and the party made its way out.  Two troopers preceded the cart and two made up our rearguard, whilst the carter led his oxen by the head. 

By happenstance I found myself walking before Jack and beside Nathaniel. 

“Money is what I need, Matthew.”  Nathaniel appeared keen to continue our conversation of before. “A man must have money and I have none.  My father has none and the family faces ruin.  I must have money.  I’ll not live in a garrett, nor will I go to The Fleet.  I’d cut my throat before I end up in a debtor’s gaol.” 

“But Nathaniel, you have position here!  Why risk it?”  I said. 

“Why?  Why not?  A roll of the dice and the world is mine!  What is more enervating than knowing that I could win all or lose everything, including my head, on one roll?” 

“It is madness!  You say your father is a slave to drink but it appears that you are no different, save your mistress is intrigue.” 

“Thank you and that is why I seek the counsel of every sot I have ever picked up from a whorehouse floor.  Keep your philosophising to yourself, Matthew. You were ever a bag of wind at Trinity.”  With that he turned away from me and chatted quietly with Jones.   

We must have been about halfway through our journey when Jack tugged at my sleeve. 

“Matthew!”  he whispered. 

“What, Jack?” 

“Where’s French Bob?” 

“I don’t know.  Is he on the other side of the cart?” 

“Why, I’d never thought to look!  Of course he’s not on the other side!  I don’t need to be a man of letters to be able to find my arse with both hands, Matthew!” 

“Well, where could he be then?” 

“Hmm, perhaps he’s with the angels?  If I knew, I would not be asking you.  I was merely informing you that our shipmate’s done a disappearing act.  What’s to be done about it, I don’t know, but look sharp in case there’s trouble.” 

“Have you told Jones?”  

“Are you mad?  You tell him!  You’re the one who doesn’t feel the punches.  He’ll not be happy to know that one of the crew is loose in the town, even if it is French Bob.”

“You have it there, Jack.  It’s French Bob.  His brains are loose and his tongue is tied.  What harm can come from it?  He’s probably begging for ale at some taproom.” 

“I hope so. And I hope that he knows that we sail on the tide.” 

“When is that?” I asked.  Months at sea had still not completed my nautical education.  Certain areas remained mere arcana to me.  Tides, their times and the importance of sailing on them were things best left to Jones as Sailing Master.  When he was not glaring across the deck, or striking down impudence with his rattan, he would be about his business at the navigator’s table, consulting his charts and almanacs. 

“In about an hour by my reckoning.  We cannot wait for him.” 

“Well we bloody well can’t search for him!” 

At that moment our procession turned a corner and entered a narrow lane.  Lilac fingers stretched across the sky from the east as the first signs of dawn clutched their way through the dark night.  The lane was dark but not dark enough to hide an unwelcome sight.  The light from our torches was reflected by the close packed houses back into the road, and there was enough of the flickering light to reveal that the way ahead was blocked.  We were not alone. 

Although the lane had appeared empty, our gradual progress had incrementally revealed a shadowy group of men at the far end.  We halted in some consternation and whispers broke out among our fellows.   Our troopers surged forward and clattered up the lane to investigate further, harness jingling and blades glowing orange in the torchlight. 

“What is this, Broadbank?” Jones hissed.  “What treachery is this?”  He grabbed the secretary by the arm and held him close.  “Ramsbottom, take his other arm and don’t let go!” He then turned his attention to one of the other men close by.  “Here, man, light me with your torch!" 

With much foreboding, I watched as Jones relit his noxious cigar with his free hand, clamping the burning roll of tobacco firmly between his teeth.  At the sight of it, Nathaniel shook with terror. 

“I don’t know, Solly!  Really, I don’t!”  he whimpered.  “You know I’d never betray you!  You’d not hurt your poor Nat?” 

In only moments the uncertainties of the world are often laid bare. There were chains of influence that crossed seas and bound the high with the low.   Solly?  Was Morgan  not the only one on The Betsy to use his body to exploit other men’s corruption? What kind of pirate crew was this?  There were more conquests in the bedchamber than at sea! 

“Halt!”  A great cry roared out from the other end of the lane, rather unnecessarily since we had done just that.  “Stand fast in the name of the King!” 

“Be about your business, boys!” Jones commanded, brisk with his orders.  “Cutlasses and pistols!  Use the cart as cover.   They’ll have to come to us.  I have the grenados and we’ll do for them up close.  When I have thrown three, get in their and stick the lot of ‘em!  Stop for no-one and get the cart through.”  He faced me.  “Take that carter and get the fucking idiot out of the way.  We’ll need him to get these bags of shit moving in a minute!” 

The men moved quickly then.  Crouching behind the cart, they made ready the pistols that Jack handed out from the sacks that we had loaded.  I dashed the carter to the back and made the unfortunate moor, white-eyed with terror, curl up on the bed of the cart behind a chest.  I mimed putting my fingers to my ears and closing my eyes.  The poor fellow nodded tearfully and grasped my hand. 

Jones’ orders, and our obeisance, took only moments.  As our men made ready, the enormously loud man called again.  “Put down your weapons!  You are surrounded. There is no way back!” 

As one we turned our heads only to see another line of horsemen appear, blocking the street that we had only just come down.  A familiar sergeant sat at their head.  Tipping his hat to us, he gave an ironic nod to Jones. 

“Damn them all for a pack of bleeding horse-fuckers!” Jack said with vehemence.  “God, I hate soldier boys and their bleeding brass buttons!” 

“Please, Solly, don’t hurt me!”  Nathaniel wailed. 

“Be a man, Nat!  Your skin is safe with me; you’re our way out of here.  Stop snivelling and…by Christ, have you pissed yourself?” 

“Put down your arms! By order of the governor!”  The voice insisted. 

“Speak now, Nat, or we all hang!” 

I could see only Nathaniel’s back from where I waited.  He straightened up and I heard his voice call out.  

“What is this?  Why are we detained, sir?  I am accompanying these men to their ship with documents for the Lords Commissioners!  You must make way!” 

There was a pause and this time another man spoke.  He had a courtly voice, one that was both hard and gentle at the same time.  He had the high, sneering tones of a man unused to disobedience.  “Ho, Nathaniel?  So many documents that need such a cart? I knew you scribbled constantly to my fine friends in London but I did not realise that you had quite so many falsehoods within you!  I must see these precious documents.  Have those men put down their weapons!  They must do so or I will be forced to fire upon you!” 

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shhhit!”  Nathaniel wailed, clutching at Jones.  “It’s Cholmeley!  It’s the Governor!  He must have come back early!” 

“Cholmeley!” Jones called, “If your men step one pace closer, I’ll cut your secretary’s throat here and now.  Let us through and you can have your man!” 

“Interesting,” Cholmeley replied, “And what about the cart?” 

“Oh you can have the cart. After we get to our ship and unload it!” 

“It is an interesting offer but I think I’d rather you put down your weapons now.” 

“I will not order that, sir.  I will cut your man’s throat and then we will have to fight it out.  Why spill so much blood?  Let us through!”

The sound of hooves clopped toward us.  A gentleman astride a huge stallion emerged from the dark and the torchlight played across him.  His long scarlet coat glittered with gold braid and his hat was bedecked in the finest feathers.   Beneath that hat curled an extravagant periwig which did nothing to soften the cruel set to his smile.   I shivered.   This was a man quite used to looking on other men’s blood and sacrifice.   

“Why spill so much blood?”  he said.  His lips curled in distaste as he looked at Nathaniel.  “Why would I want to save him?  His father’s no more than a rebel.  I took you on, Nathaniel, as a kindness to your mother but no more than that.  It was her business that she married one of Cromwell’s damned colonels!  I think my duties to your family are done with.  Save you?  No, I don’t think so.”  He shifted slightly in his saddle, the creaking of the leather being quite audible in the confines of the lane, and addressed Jones.  “And I’m really very put out over the loss of one of my rather more valuable cavalry officers.  He has not been seen since leaving the castle and I believe you know a lot more about it, sir.  No, Nathanial can take his chances and you lot can hang!” 

With a flick of his riding crop, he motioned his men  to advance.  

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