Chapter Nine
Nathan chuckled and gave in, steering his friend across the docks. The tavern Corky had his eye on stood between a warehouse and a ticket office. Nathan didn’t know London at all, had never been there before, and had never heard anything good about it either. But taverns were taverns, and this one looked no different from the ones he’d find at home in Southampton. While Nathan had no interest himself in a woman his last night on land because he had too much on his mind to spare any thoughts on a wench, a pint of ale would indeed be welcome.
He’d never asked for them, but now he had responsibilities that he didn’t have last year when he would have been the one to suggest a quick tumble. Not anymore. Not since his sister died and he was the only one left in their family who could care for her two children. Not that he hadn’t had an agenda before that happened. He just hadn’t been in a hurry to achieve his goals.
His nieces, Clarissa and Abbie, were darling girls. He never expected to get so attached to them so quickly, but each time he visited, it was getting harder to say good-bye. At seven years of age Clarissa was the younger and the more exuberant of the two. She never failed to throw herself into his arms with a happy squeal when he arrived. Abbie was more reserved at nine years of age. Poor thing was still trying to emulate her father’s snobby family, thinking that’s how she ought to behave. But she was starting to come around. She expressed delight now when she saw him and he’d even felt dampness on her cheek when she’d hugged him good-bye a few days ago. My God, that had been difficult, walking away from them this time.
They didn’t deserve to live in poverty just because their parents had passed on. He had to do right by them, give them a home, a stable one. One way or another, he was going to provide them with the comfortable life they used to have.
The girls had been raised so differently from him, but then his sister, Angie, had married well. She’d had a fine house in Surrey and her daughters had had a governess, tutors, and fancy dresses. It was too bad it had all come with such disagreeable people for in-laws, the lot of them thinking they were grander than they were just because they held a minor title. Nathan hadn’t liked Angie’s husband because it had become apparent soon after the wedding that he had only married her because she was descended from an earl. Nathan hadn’t even been able to visit her or her children without sneaking in to do it because his brother-in-law had found out Jory was a smuggler and assumed Nathan was one, too.
But everything his nieces had had was gone now, taken back by their father’s family when he’d died, killing Angie with him, because he’d been foxed and driving his carriage too fast. Nathan hadn’t thought it possible, but he’d come to hate the nobility even more than he already did when those heartless snobs turned their backs on their own granddaughters just because they’d never approved of Angie. All the girls had left were the fancy dresses that didn’t even fit them anymore, and an uncle who only hoped to accomplish goals that a sane man would realize were impossible.
He ordered that pint, then another. He was starting to feel the anger that tended to show up when he thought about his situation too long. Maybe what he should be looking for this last night on land was a good fight.
Ale in hand, Nathan turned to glance about the room, looking for someone who might accommodate him, but the tavern was so crowded, he didn’t doubt one punch would lead to a full-scale brawl. While it wouldn’t be the first time he’d spent a night in jail for starting one, he couldn’t afford for that to happen tonight if he wanted to get The Pearl back.
He started for the door, but turned about when five new customers stepped through it and he recognized one of them. What the hell? Hammett Grigg’s men in London, of all places? The last time he’d seen Mr. Olivey, Hammett’s first mate, who was the one he recognized, had been in Southampton five years ago. Grigg and a handful of his crew had tracked Nathan down to find out where Jory was holed up. Still furious with his father, he’d told them he didn’t know and didn’t care. They’d actually had him watched for a while, thinking he could lead them to Jory. But he never saw his father again, and Hammett and his men finally found Jory on their own. . . .
Was the Cornish smuggler actually crazy enough to deliver a load of untaxed goods to the biggest city in the country? Not using London docks, he couldn’t. He had to be in London for some other reason, maybe to line up new buyers. But if his men were here on the docks, Grigg might be nearby, too. Could Nathan really get this lucky and find the man before Commander Burdis did?
Well, he’d wanted a fight. Trying to find out Grigg’s whereabouts would definitely get him one, but he preferred that it take place outside if possible. Or he could just wait and follow them when they left. Would he have time for that?
He glanced behind him without turning. The five men were still by the door, looking about the room. There were no empty tables they could use. If they didn’t leave, they’d be coming to the bar where Nathan was standing and that brawl would then be inevitable. . . .
Decision made, Nathan walked to the door and shouldered his way past them. Easy enough to do when he was taller and brawnier than them. And as expected, they followed him outside. Five of them against one of him would make them cocky. They just didn’t know him well, and he’d like to keep it that way for a few minutes. Cocky men tended to have loose lips.
“Leaving without paying your respects, boyo?” Mr. Olivey said, grabbing Nathan’s arm to stop him. “Thought we wouldn’t recognize you?”
“Wot are ye doing ’ere, eh?” another asked. “Why ain’t ye—? Heard ye got locked up.”
“I heard you helped with that,” Nathan replied. “Where’s your boss? I’d like to thank him.”
“ ’Ere now, don’t be blaming us ’cause you got careless, boyo.”
“I bet ’e’s plannin’ to wield ’is ’ammer in London. Now the revs got ’is ship, wot else is there left for ’im?”
The men’s chuckles were cut short when Nathan gripped the man’s throat with one hand and pinned him to the tavern wall. “My business here is none of yours, but yours is certainly mine. I repeat, where’s your boss?”
“You’re in no position to ask,” Olivey said behind him. “Or did you really think you could take us all on?”
“Let’s find out.” Nathan leapt to the side to position himself so that all five men were in front of him again.
Five against one might be lousy odds, but he had passion and purpose in his corner, while he guessed they just wanted to have some fun at his expense. He didn’t have to wait long for the first swing to come his way. He blocked that one and threw one of his own. Two quick jabs at another had a second staggering back.
Blood pumping, Nathan had no doubt that he could do this, despite the odds, and get the answer he wanted before he was done. He just needed to leave one of them standing and able to talk.
The next sailor to come at him he knocked to the ground, but the man got back up too quickly, wiping blood from his mouth. “Should take to the ring, boyo, instead of wasting time with a hammer. You’d make a fortune.”
Olivey’s comment distracted Nathan a moment too long. Bleedin’ hell. Both his arms were suddenly pulled forcefully behind him and Mr. Olivey stood in front of him laughing.
“Should have run while you had the chance. Should have left well enough alone, too. Hammett was done with your family—until he heard you were looking for him. Look where that got you, eh.”
“Go to hell,” Nathan spat out.
But suddenly his arms were freed and he heard the distinctive hollow sound of two heads cracking together. He didn’t need to look behind him to guess that two of Grigg’s men had just been hurt if not put out of commission. Then he was yanked aside, out of the way, and a strong arm fell over his shoulder. He tried to shrug it off, but the hold tightened enough to stop him. Blood still pumping, he was about to swing at whoever was holding him immobile until he got a look at him.
Tall and dark haired with shoulders as wide as Nathan’s and wearing a fine greatcoat, the man could pass for a nabob except for one glaring fact. A member of the gentry wouldn’t get involved in a street brawl, would he? No, he’d merely yell for the watch. Another man, too, a big, blond brute specimen unlike any Nathan had ever seen was pounding Hammett’s sailors with his fists. Were they just a couple of rakehells out looking for trouble? Then they could add him to the count before they were done and he didn’t think he’d walk away from that, could even miss his ship because of it. But right now he needed at least one of Hammett’s sailors conscious so he could question him.
It was all he could do to sound reasonable when he said to the black-haired man, “Let go so I can help him.” Stop him was more like it.
“Bite your tongue, youngun. That’s not a snarl my brother is wearing, it’s a grin.” Then the man sighed because all five sailors were now sprawled on the ground. To his brother he complained, “Really, old boy, you could have dragged it out just a little.”
The blond bruiser merely gave the black-haired man a bored look before he turned his piercing green eyes on Nathan. “Need a job? I could use a sparring partner.”
Nathan choked back an impotent snarl. He’d just lost his chance to get answers. He should have stopped the bruiser from knocking them all out, but the demolishing had happened so fast. And they actually thought they were being helpful.
He got out, “No thanks, I have a job.”
The black-haired one who’d held him back let go of him now, saying, “No pearls of gratitude? Do we need to teach you some manners, youngun?” But then he added, “Behind you, James.”
What happened next left no room for thought. It did flash though Nathan’s mind that he had been left for last and was about to get the beating of his life. But he saw one of the sailors staggering to his feet. Nathan yelled, “Wait!”—but the man named James turned to the sailor, while the black-haired taller one put his steely arm around Nathan’s shoulder again.
It was too much. Nathan swung, catching the black-haired man completely off guard and connecting with his chin, taking him down. He doubted he could do the same with the bruiser who was now staring at Nathan with a raised brow.
Nathan stiffened. He could probably bolt as the sailor was now doing, but he didn’t want this one following him.
He broadened the distance between himself and the bruiser and, pointing to the fleeing sailor, quickly said, “I need answers that you and your friend are keeping me from getting.”
“Then run along and get them. My brother’s going to be in the mood for a fight now, but not to worry—”
Nathan didn’t wait to hear the rest. With a nod, he ducked around the strange twosome’s carriage, which had stopped in front of the tavern, and took off down the dock, chasing down the sailor. He thought he heard someone laughing behind him, but it was probably just someone in the tavern, and he didn’t look back.
The sailor had ducked around a corner onto a wide street. It was dark, but not deserted. A good number of sailors were making their way back to their ships, some drunkenly. Nathan ran down the street, glancing at each man he passed. It took him a few minutes to spot Hammett’s sailor just as the man turned another corner.
Swearing, Nathan reached the spot only to find a narrow alley filled with broken crates and other garbage. A dog barked to the left. He headed that way. He found the dog but the sailor was nowhere in sight. He could have entered any number of buildings through their rear doors. A light suddenly appeared in an upstairs window of one of them. He tried the door to that building and found it locked. He moved on to the next building. The door was unlocked and he slipped inside. The corridor he found himself in was dark—but not so dark he couldn’t see the shadow crouched in it.
Nathan leapt forward and dragged the sailor outside before whoever had lit the lantern could come down to investigate why the dog was barking. He didn’t stop until they rounded another corner and he shoved the sailor up against the side of a building.
“I distracted that bruiser so you could get away, but I’ll be finishing you off m’self if you don’t—”
“Wait!” the man pleaded. “I’ll tell you what I know, just no more punches.”
“Where is Grigg?”
“He ain’t in town yet, but he’ll be here tomorrow for the delivery.”
“To who?”
“Man on the west side, runs a fancy tavern. The cap’n’s been supplying him with brandy off and on for a year now.”
“Who’s the man? What’s the name of the tavern?” Nathan tightened his grip on the man’s shirt.
“Don’t know. All I know is this is a big delivery, so the captain is coming to town himself for it. He’s got quite a few establishments here eager for the finer stuff that he supplies now, those that cater to the gentry. Cuts them a deal they can’t refuse.”
“I need names.”
“I don’t know, I swear! Mr. Olivey does. You should be asking him—”
“He’s not going to be answering anything tonight, but you aren’t telling me anything useful either. That better change, and quickly.”
“It was the captain who set you up. He had a man watching your crew in Southampton. You shouldn’t be so predictable, boyo, always coming back to the same port.”
Nathan ignored the gloating tone for the moment. “Is that how Grigg has managed to avoid me?”
“Aye, he never docks in the same place twice. But since you do, it was easy to set a spy on your crew when they were in Southampton. He was there when you sent your men that message that you needed to reload your cargo to move it to a safer spot. He even overheard where they were to meet you with your ship and when.”
“How was that ambush arranged so quickly?”
“Because Captain Grigg was in town that night. He was told about your change in plans. He sent his spy to a revenue ship in the harbor, and the rest you know.”
“What I need to know is where I can find him, boyo. So if he doesn’t have a base, why don’t you tell me where he stores his cargo.”
“I can’t because he doesn’t. D’you really not know how many men work for him? Half of them just drive the wagons and simply wait for him to beach, unload, and they cart the goods straight to the buyers. No hiding it like we used to. No giving the revenuers that patrol the waters a chance to find us. He arranges everything in advance and has been operating that way for years. There’s nothing more I can tell you.”
“Yes, there is,” Nathan said in a quieter tone. “You can tell me why he killed my father.”
“Well, your sis—you don’t know?”
Nathan lifted the man a little off his feet to get his point across. “Tell me.”
“I know nothing. Nothing!” The sailor’s jaw was clenched, but he was shaking like a leaf. “I wasn’t working for him back then.”
Nathan pulled the man away from the wall and raised his fist warningly. “The tavern?” he growled. “Last chance to say something useful.”
The sailor’s eyes widened. “There’s an alley behind it, that’s all I ever see of it. The cap’n’s of a mind that the less we know the better. Only Mr. Olivey gets told when, where, and who. But I heard him call the bloke we deliver to Bobby.”
“The owner?”
“Don’t know, never asked.”
Nathan smashed his fist into the man’s face. “Too little, too late,” he muttered, but the man couldn’t hear him.
Nathan hurried back to the tavern to rouse Mr. Olivey for more information, but he slowed as he approached. The watch had found Grigg’s defeated crewmen. All four of them were still unconscious, didn’t even stir as they were lifted and placed in a wagon to be taken to jail. Nathan wasn’t even surprised. The man who had laid waste to them really was a bruiser.
Nathan was disappointed, but if the sailor he’d questioned could be believed, and he probably could be, Nathan knew much more now than he had before. And if his new turn of luck held, Grigg wouldn’t be caught by Burdis before Nathan returned to England.
Corky was in the small crowd gathered in front of the tavern, but he was nervously looking around for Nathan rather than watching what was going on. Nathan waved to draw his attention.
Corky ran over to him immediately. “We better get back to our post and quickly. The owners of the ship came by to see how the loading was going and got caught in a fistfight. Someone actually knocked out one of them and he’s furious.”
“That’s—unfortunate,” Nathan said with a sinking feeling. “Did they board?”
“No, not tonight. Where did you take off to?”
He gave Corky the short of it, saying, “Grigg’s men are in town. I had words with one of them.”
“He’s operating out of London? I know he’s cagey, but I didn’t take him for a loony.”
“He only delivers here to a number of buyers, but I got a lead on one of them. It’s the first clue I’ve had about Grigg’s whereabouts since he killed Jory. And now I know where to look for him when we get back to England.”
“Or you could send word about him to your commander friend.”
“Hell no, and he’s not my friend. He’s just a revenuer using me to get himself a promotion. Our goals merely line up—temporarily.”
Corky tsked. “Connections have their uses, particularly if they come with titles. It doesn’t serve your best interests to hate all nabobs just because of your sister’s in-laws.”
“I don’t hate them all. Only the ones I meet. Now it’s late and we sail in the morning. We need some sleep. They can wake us if any more wagons show up.”
“I’d agree, ’cept this one might be for us.”
Corky was talking about an approaching coach, not a wagon. Yet it did stop and the driver called down, “Are you with The Maiden George? If so, I have passengers who want to board now.”