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The Coastal Trader docked in Bundoran on schedule.

Once all of her fore and aft lines were secured, and the gangway put in place, the unloading of freight destined for the town began.

The Captain decided to walk to the Happy Leprechaun himself, and on arriving, he greeted the landlord, Rory O’Rourke, who he had met on his first run some five years previously.

He informed the landlord that he had a letter for a Mrs. Johanna álvarez, and that he had been charged with placing the missive into her hands personally.

O’Rourke sent one of his young sons up to Mrs. álvarez’s room to request that she come down to meet with the Captain.

When Johanna descended, she was most inquisitive as to why the handsome man would seek her out, taken aback that he was the captain of the very ship she was avoiding.

She adopted a coquettish manner which directly contradicted her mourning garb, and was somewhat miffed when she realized that Captain Beauclerk was not impressed or interested in her in the least. After all, her skills of attracting a man had been honed in gambling halls and brothels, so it was upsetting to not get any reaction from the tall, well-built man.

“Would you join me in the corner so we can talk in private?” Beauclerk asked. She nodded curtly letting all pretence fall since he could not be persuaded by her charms.

“What is it that I can do for you, Captain?” she asked, her annoyance conveyed in her tone.

“I have a letter that the postmaster in Ballycastle requested that I personally put into your hands,” he told her as he held out the letter.

“There is no one that …” The protest died in her throat as she saw the writing and recognised it as her son’s hand. “Did you meet with the writer?” she asked softly.

“No, madam, I did not. The postmaster handed it to me with the charge to put it into your hands; which presumably is what the writer asked for.” Seeing that she was about to quiz him further he added.

“No, I did not see or meet the writer in Ballycastle, the postmaster handed me the missive to deliver. I apologise, but now that I have fulfilled my charge, I must return to my vessel and supervise the unloading and loading.” He gave her a curt bow and left the inn before she could ask any more questions.

Johanna quickly made her way to her room, and as soon as the lock on her door clicked, she hungrily broke the seal and read.

2 July 1812

In the area of Ballycastle

Dear Mama,

I pray that you took what I said to heart in my previous letter and that this letter has not found you still in Bundoran. If it did reach you there, then I must make an appeal to you once again.

Please stop this madness, Mama! I have done some checking in a copy of Debrett’s that I found .

Not only is the lady married to a duke and is the daughter of another, but the family are cousins to the royals!

Close cousins, Mother. Any move against them is treason and your chances of success are no better than Wickham’s were.

Please do not make the mistakes that my father made and let greed rule your good sense.

I know that you are an intelligent woman, Mother, so please use your God given faculties and stop this scheme before it is too late.

If you try anything against the lady or a member of her family, it will be treason, Mama, and there is only one penalty for that.

Please do not make me have to read about you meeting the same fate that my father met.

I beseech you, Mother. If I did not love you or care about you, I would not write this letter to you, taking a chance that you will inform Younge where I am and have him search for me again.

The postmaster does not know my actual location, but I will check from time to time in case you wish to write to me.

I still hope against hope that you will not tell Younge, and that you come to your senses and leave.

With much love and hope,

Your son, Tony

Johanna álvarez was furious. How dare her son turn on her in this fashion.

She was angry, and angry people seldom make wise decisions, so rather than think clearly about what her son wrote, she consigned his epistle to the fire, just like his first letter, and chose to again hide the information from the Younges.

Jones, Forester, and Tibbson watched from the shadows as the three particular crates were carried onto the Coastal Trader and taken below to the hold.

Inside each was a drugged and very securely bound and gagged criminal.

Forester thought back to the pleasure that he and his friends had had in their capturing.

Two days before the sloop was scheduled to arrive, they saw their opportunity.

McLamb and his two cohorts had been drinking until the landlord stopped serving at the Happy Leprechaun.

When they left, they had staggered towards the docks and went behind a warehouse to relive themselves and woke up bound, gagged, and in foul moods as they each had a headache for the ages as one would naturally receive after a blow to the head.

They glared at their captives, the attempt to intimidate even when at such a disadvantage quickly changed to expressions of fear because the murderous looks in the eyes of the men standing over them was one no man did not innately fear.

“It aint’ so easy when you are the one taken unawares, now is it?” Jones asked menacingly, though it was clear that the three captives did not understand the reference.

“The man ya murdered in Fowey was me mate!” Forester growled; his burning malice unmistakable in his voice. The three blanched, real fear overtaking their expressions. “He was a sergeant in the Royal Dragoons, an’ ‘is former Colonel, is real keen to ‘ave a talk with you three!”

Jones stood in front of McLamb. “I am gonna take your gag off. Scream and you will lose your teeth! Do ya understand me?” The bound man nodded his head, so Jones inclined his head toward Tibbson who removed the gag.

McLamb hoped he could talk himself out of the very tough spot that he was in. “It wer’n’t me that offed that man. If you let me free, I will bring the man to yous,” he blustered.

“Do we looks like we be simpletons?” Jonesy asked menacingly. “We know exactly ‘oo did the deed,” his brown eyes burned holed into the murderer who turned away, “an’ we know which despicable men ‘elped you.” Jones turned and glanced at the two men still gagged.

“It wern’t me, I tell ya,” McLamb said trying to sound convincing and received a hard punch to his gut for his trouble. As he doubled over in pain he started to yell and was silenced with a hard punch from Forester. Two teeth broke and two more were loosed, the broken ones spat out with blood.

“You be wastin’ your time, we ‘ave young álvarez and he done tol’ us everything,” Jones said nonchalantly.

He allowed his words to sink in, amused when their captives realised that lies would be a waste of time.

“You two wanna lie to us?” Jones asked McLamb’s cohorts who both shook their heads emphatically.

“Ya three be very lucky that ‘is Grace wants ya alive,” Tibbson told the three. “If it were up to us, ya three would be in Davy Jones’s Locker by now!”

“His Grace?” McLamb murmured through the pain.

“Yeah, cousins to the royals they be. You and your capt’n ‘ave no idea ‘oo you bin messing wif!” Forester informed them and was not unhappy when he saw their captives’ blanch as McLamb was again gagged.

Forester smiled as he thought of the pleasure that he felt when he hit McLamb in the mouth, he would have liked to end is miserable life, but they were charged to deliver the captive alive.

All three watched with pleasure as the last of the crates disappeared below deck.

They made their way to the Happy Leprechaun for their midday meal as they did every day; the last thing they wanted to do was change their routine to give Younge and his cronies reason to question them.

The next morning the Coastal Trader sailed for Dublin with the tide just as she did every month.

The Dennington men had succeeded spectacularly as no one was the wiser.

As the sloop sailed on her way toward her destination that evening, the three ex-marines sat at their table eating their meal when Younge approached.

As he had the last time that the sloop was at Bundoran, he had kept himself out of the public eye until she sailed.

“You three be sailors, aint ya?” he asked without preamble and the three men nodded. “Ow would ya like to get outa ‘ere in a month or so men?”

“We would at that, Capt’n,” Jones answered for the group.

“I ‘appen to ‘ave an opening in me crew, and I needs three good men; is ya three up fir it?” The three looked suitably surprised and grateful as they discussed terms with Younge.

Later, Jones dropped a missive off with the postmaster to an address in Dublin.

It was very short and simply read: ‘ Success, we be in the crew, Jones.’

On the Coastal Trader , once the town was no longer visible, the three men were extracted from their crates, and when they awoke, they were shocked to find themselves chained to the bulkhead in the brig on a ship.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

Lady Anne arrived a day after the Duke and Duchess of Hertfordshire and the Dowager Duchess of Bedford at Hilldale. After washing and changing, she met Elizabeth and William in their suite’s sitting room. “Is Marie doing any better, Lizzy?” she asked her daughter-in-law with concern.

“Yes, Mother Anne, she is,” Elizabeth allayed Lady Anne’s fears.

“With Jane and me helping her see that this was nothing more than a terrible accident, followed by the arrival of Aunt Elaine and Amy who talked with her as well, she was already starting to feel a little better. Mama, Aunt Rose, and Papa being here had helped a lot, but she really wants to talk to you, Mother Anne.”