A young Rogers hears about Thomas Hamilton for the first time. An older Rogers debates Nassau in Lloyd's coffee shop and ends up being forwarded as governor. Rogers parlays with Flint.

(Rogers POV only)

Chapter 20 - King of the Island

When Rogers woke, Eleanor slept soundly on her side, her back to him and her arm beneath her head. His hand lay on her hip. He mostly saw her tousled hair, naked arm, shoulder and back. He gazed dreamily at the nymph in his bed. He felt like a king. Acquiring the personal devotion from an intelligent woman like Eleanor who can stand her own against the most cunning made him feel like he could conquer the world. Her standing by him had long impressed him with the sensation that she was his treasure, but making love to such a woman was well indescribable. It was tempting to nudge her awake. That can all wait, he recollected himself. Flint will not. Nor will Dyson, he panicked for a moment.

Before long, Dyson would appear to shave him and help him with his dress. He considered scuttling her off to her own room, before Dyson's arrival. But he abhorred the idea of slipping secretly in and out one another rooms. If King Louis XIV's mistresses were esteemed at Versailles as royal courtesans, well then Eleanor was due the same type of deference. Except, a voice argued, this is not Versailles, you're not a king, and France isn't riddled with puritans. It bloody well isn't exactly England either, he argued back. Shame had served as Rogers' restraint after their first fleeting kiss upon their arrival at Nassau. Now that he ought to feel it though, he felt none.

So, quietly, Rogers slipped out of his bed, washed, grabbed a shirt and cravat, and his more practical attire of subdued browns and earthen greens. By all accounts Flint seemed the least interested in appearances. Rogers closed the door silently and had his manservant called in. As Dyson walked to the door of his bedroom, Rogers said, "No need for that. Let her sleep in. I will break my fast downstairs, but I want you to bring some up and leave it here in my office for her." He frowned. "I want coffee this morning."

Dyson bowed his head. "As you wish, my lord."

Downstairs, he gave Perkins instructions on the set up at the beach, east of the bay. "Oh, and get a flagon of the best wine you can find on the island, even if that's my own cellar." He walked to the dining hall, and Perkins fell in beside him. "Have the horses prepared – just horses, no carriage." A morning horse ride might do him some good. "I want two regulars as guards, a back-up team, and have Hornigold warned to come with his watchman."

"Will –" Perkins pointed his finger to the ceiling.

"No, Miss Guthrie will not accompany me, and I do not want her disturbed." He sat down and spread his napkin. "Are the men ready for the exchange with Anne Bonny?"

"They are mounting the carriage, sir."

Rogers reached for a piece of raisin bread. "Eight able fighters, yes, with the order not to harm her and let her go free?"

"My lord."

"If I hear that she was harmed, I'll have them flogged." He smeared some butter on the bread. "If she turns up dead, I'll give them patrol duty at the other side of the island with nobody in sight for a whole month. They know this, right?"

"They have been warned, sir."

"Good." He took a bite, and indicated the servant waiting against the wall to serve him. "No, not tea. Give me coffee." There were no plantations in the Americas of the black liquid, but he had stores of East Indy beans brought along with him. Mr. Lardener's tasks on the island was to try and grow them. A small portion was reserved for Rogers' personal use. Though he felt well rested, despite catching only a minimal amount of sleep, Rogers believed this was a morning where he could use a perk. "Oh, and one more thing, Lieutenant. When I'm not here, people under my command defer to Miss Guthrie."

"Yes, sir."

"That includes you."

Rogers felt strong and fresh, when he mounted his horse, almost young again. He even challenged his men to a race. They probably let him win, and he rode the best stallion, but he did not let that spoil the idea he could still take up well-trained twenty-something soldiers in the prime of their lives.

Little than an hour later, Rogers enjoyed the sunrise on the beach, as he waited for the first sight of the Walrus. A white shade had been erected, under which stood a table and two chairs. A flagpole had been put up and a giant white flag flapped in the sea breeze. As the sky became a clearer blue, and the pink streaks vanished, Rogers pondered the story Eleanor could not tell - his own story in relation to Thomas Hamilton. He was but a young man, father-to-be, with a rich house in Bristol and recent freeman when Lord Thomas Hamilton endeavored to push the pardons through in Whitehall. Rogers only learned of him, after the man had died and Sir Whetstone returned from the West Indies in Jamaica.

"Son," said Sir William to him by the end of the family dinner. "Those French pirates are some of the worst. Dreadful business. Your good father dead, and now half your fleet taken. What do you intend to do about it?"

"Well, several of us want to petition for letters of marque to strike back."

"Good! Those French need a good whooping. I caught and hunted plenty of those around Hispaniola." He clapped Rogers on the shoulder. "About time you show your true worth at sea."

"Oh, papa," cried Sarah. "There is no need for Woodes to go himself. His captains can carry the letters –"

"Nonsense, Sarah," pronounced her father for once. "You can't expect a man to sit idle all day, up to his ears in baby swaddles when half his business is stolen from him. If you wished for a husband who would always be at home, you should have married a lawyer or a man of the church."

"But papa, you were the one who demanded that I should marry a man of the sea."

"Of course, I did. I don't want my daughters wedded to a wimp. No man is a real man if he is not a man of the sea. Wouldn't you agree, Woodes?"

"Yes, sir."

Sir William smiled proudly to Rogers. "You had your years of leisure to establish a family. With your second child under way, you must ensure their future." And before Sarah could pout over it, he said to her, "Now, go fetch my grandson and allow us real men our port and cigars and a moment's peace."

As soon as Sarah left the dinner room, Rogers said, "It might still take a while. It's still in the early stages. I'm trying to interest investors."

"Of course, son. No need to rush stupidly without a plan. I'll do a good word for you amongst my contacts for the letters. Just let me know in good time." He sat back with his glass of port. "I would not deny my daughter much, nor should you. Sarah deserves the best. But never let a woman interfere with what you ought to do. Give her some more babies to fuss over, and she'll soon want you out of her way, anyway."

Rogers smiled. "I thought of Madagascar."

Sir William shook his head. "Too much trouble for little worth and you'll have the East Indy Company to contend with. The West Indies, I'd say. Plenty of Spanish prizes to be had. Those bastards of Cartagena made a mistake when they declared they know no other sovereign but King Philip."

"Lots of competition there with other privateers, sir."

"Ah, yes. Well, you could always go 'round the Horn and attack the Spanish Main from the west. At the Caribbean they are too well armed against the pirates of Nassau." Sir William lit a cigar. "Worse than the French. English who attack other English, neutral or allied ships? Traitors the lot of them. And to think Alfred Hamilton's own son proposed to pardon them."

"Who?"

"The earl, one of the Lord Proprietors of Carolina and the Bahamas. His eldest son, Lord Thomas, drew up a plan to deal with Nassau. Some idle radical who wanted to pardon those traitors, believing he could put them to honest work." Sir William was a man who could bluster and blow hot air, but Rogers had rarely seen him so worked up about a man. "His father was never so embarrassed. But then Lord Thomas discovered that his wife had an affair with his best friend, a naval officer. After the lovers fled England, he lost all his wits and committed suicide in the asylum. Well good riddance to all three, I say." He leaned closer. "I met that officer, this McGraw, in Port Royal. Looked like a fine, young fellow, a protégé of Admiral Hennessey. He inquired about all I knew of Nassau. Gave him access to all he needed to draw up plans. Can you imagine my shock when I later learned what a radical that rascal was."

Most of what Sir William rambled on about held little interest to him at the time, but Rogers found Hamilton's idea intriguing. Though he knew better than to say so to his father-in-law.

After he started his life in London, Rogers met his publishing liaison Daniel Defoe in the coffee house Chapter at Paul's Alley. Their acquaintance became a friendship and he got introduced into Defoe's political circle. The issue of piracy was a hot topic and Hamilton's ideas were openly discussed. Times had changed. Alfred Hamilton, Sir William and Hennessey were dead. The Tory government worked on a peace treaty with Spain and France. Queen Anne's health was failing and a new king was expected to take the throne soon. His plans for Nassau truly were born in Lloyd's on Lombard Street.

"Hey, Rogers!" hailed Shelvocke when he entered Lloyd's. The all dominating aroma of pulverized coffee beans welcomed him. Rogers took off his tricorn and shook the rain droplets off. Plenty of other men there greeted him, clapping on the shoulder or shaking his hand – merchants, captains and cartographers he knew, or at least they knew him. He walked across the shaved wooden floor, nearly tripping over a spittoon, towards his befriended colleague who was out of a job and surviving on half-pay. Shelvocke nudged the other man on the spartan bench "Come on, Hatley, make some room for our friend."

Rogers barely recognized Hatley. Simon Hatley had been a well built man in his mid twenties with sandy hair and an honest smile when he sailed with Rogers on the Duke. A trustworthy man, and the only man both crews of the Duchess and the Duke trusted to keep a record of the prize-money. But in just five years, Hatley looked older than Rogers and had a haunted look about him. And yet, when Hatley shook his hand and smiled, some of the younger Simon reappeared. "Good to see you, Captain."

"Jesus, Hatley, I believed you lost. Since when are you back?"

"Couple of months ago, just in time to collect 180 pounds sterling from our expedition's prizes. Bought myself a house in Woodstock."

Rogers chuckled grimly. "Well, then you got more out of it than I did."

"Yeah, I heard. Sorry, Captain."

Rogers shook his head, signaling to forget about it. "But tell me what happened to you? We searched for you when we lost sight of you around the Galapagos Islands." Rogers had put Hatley in charge of a Spanish prize ship.

"I had to make landfall for fresh water. We got caught by the Spanish." Simon squinted one eye and made a face – bad luck. "I was a prisoner at Lima until a year ago."

"You earned your 180 pounds sterling then."

"Simon," said Shelvocke. "Let Captain Rogers have his coffee first, so he can tell us the news of his Madagascar exploits." Then to Rogers he explained, "Nassau is the debate topic of the day." He waved at one end of the coffee room. "That end of the room says we should just burn the whole place down and start anew, while the other half there is in favor of Hamilton's pardon plans."

The noise in the coffee house became a hush with many of the men watching Rogers order his coffee and give the servant boy a penny for it. As he drank his first sip of the hot, bitter black liquid the whole room shouted, "What news from Madagascar, Captain Rogers?"

He laughed, set his cup down, threw his arms up as if surrendering. "A long list of pirates begging to become English citizens."

This evoked a cheer from the pardon side, while a whole new debate erupted over the East Indy Company's chances of retaining their monopoly amongst those, who also frequented Jonathan's. The East Indy Company had already given Rogers to understand he could forget about a Madagascar Company, but he was not one to spoil the stock brokers' fun and kept that to himself. Aside from a few hard-liners, the majority of the burn-it-all-down side surrendered to Rogers' news and quickly moved on to the argument how best to weaken the Pirate Republic of Nassau.

Edward Lloyd's son-in-law, William Newton, had become the proprietor of Lloyd's coffee house after Edward's death the year before. Newton rarely participated in the debates, except to tell what opinion late Edward Lloyd would have held. "My late father-in-law would say you hit the market first." This was met by a cheer from the stock brokers.

"Well, you'd need to convince the Boston Guthrie clan of that," said a Boston tradesman. "They all like to pretend the youngest son, Richard, is the black sheep of the family, but they send shipping goods every fortnight and allow him use of their merchant fleet to take the pirated goods to Carolina or Massachusetts Bay. Nothing happens in Nassau without their permission."

"A pardon for Richard Guthrie!" clamored the original pardon-side.

"And one for a pirate captain!" Rogers added. "Get the mightiest pirate of them all, offer him a pardon, and if he turns, then surely the rest will follow."

Soon the coffee house got into a heated debate who was the most notorious pirate of the West Indies. "Avery!" was hooted down immediately with, "Not some dead legend!" And for the next half hour a faction debated whether Henry Avery was dead or not, and if so where he died.

There were cries for Henry Jennings, Benjamin Hornigold, "Black Sam" Bellamy, Blackbeard, Charles Vane and Flint. The debate between the merchants and captains over who was the most fearsome pirate of the West Indies reigned Lloyd's for a week, with men dragging survivors of an encounter to the coffee house. Rogers listened.

"Flint," argued Rogers by the end of the week. "It has to be Flint," and he made his case. "There have not been recent sightings of Hornigold. Blackbeard does not even operate from Nassau anymore. And the Wydah sank off the coast at Cape Cod. That leaves Vane and Flint. Vane sounds like a fickle butcher – brutally successful but no out of the ordinary naval tactics."

"He killed more men than Flint," argued a Vane fan.

"That might be, but if you're going to pardon the most formidable pirate of Nassau then you would want to make use of him too. While Flint may have killed a Lord Proprietor, Alfred Hamilton, on the Maria Alayne, those who surrender to him have the highest survival rate. If the Crown pardons Flint for the earl, all the other pirates will know England to be sincere. Flint uses high naval strategy tactics. If he were not a pirate, the navy would put him in command of a fleet."

"That settles it then. Rogers for governor!" shouted Shelvocke. "Well, if they don't give you Madagascar," he quipped privately.

"He might have a hard time convincing the Lords Proprietor of Carolina of giving him a license if he pardons the murderer of their colleague," warned another against Shelvocke's cheer.

But as Rogers himself became the subject of debate as the man for the job, he soon gained support in Lloyd's that reached the ears of other men in London. Before long, men with political ties called on him, and eventually he managed to sway the West Indy Company, investors, the Admiralty and the crown. The Lords Proprietor of Carolina were, as predicted, skeptic at best. But when news arrived that Boston was willing to hand him Richard Guthrie, the Lords Proprietor finally agreed. After Vane burned Charleston, the Guthrie empire had collapsed and Flint went on a murder spree in the colonies, everybody was desperate enough to give Rogers all he wanted. He was the sole volunteer with the brevity and persistence to solve the pirate issue in the West Indies. That Captain Flint turned out to be Lieutenant McGraw made Rogers feel as if God had been pulling all of their strings for a long time. Eleanor, Flint and Rogers were inexplicably tied by fate.

The sun climbed the sky and, as he looked across the sea, Rogers thought he saw the glimmer of sails on the horizon. No man from the island had ventured on here to be recruited by Flint. At least that part of the scheme had worked. The sun climbed higher and on the water a tiny launch came their way. Rogers tapped the table's surface with his fingers. "About bloody time," he mumbled. And now it ends.

Another half hour passed before the launch beached. Two rowers tied it up, while a tall, muscular man in leather trousers, gun belt, broadsword, black shirt and justaucorps jumped out into the rolling surf. His copper hair was uncommonly short, as if shaved, and he had a moustache and goatee beard. McGraw certainly looked the formidable pirate. Grim faced, he trudged through the sand to the table and measured Rogers head to toe with blue-grey eyes. Rogers grimaced and invitation Flint to sit with him. Flint's jaw flexed as he looked down on the chair beside him, but he chose to sit down, folding his hands together in front of him.

"Lord Thomas Hamilton," Rogers said with a friendly smile, as he watched Flint's features falter at the mentioning of the name. "I didn't know him, but I understand you did." Flint's icy blue eyes seemed for a moment to glance into the past, rather than him. And though he hid it well, Rogers got the impression that Flint was indeed shocked that Rogers knew Flint's true identity. "Miss Guthrie tells me you were part of the first effort with Lord Hamilton and Peter Ashe to introduce the pardon to Nassau. As with most things, the men first into the breach bear the heaviest casualties." Rogers paused for a moment and heaved a breath. "But in the hindsight of victory, they were the ones whose sacrifice made it possible. Without Lord Hamilton's efforts, your efforts, it's likely I wouldn't have been successful in my efforts to finally secure the pardon." Flint glanced away and a hint of a smile appeared. "All I have done here is finish what you began. I am now what you were then. And without you, there would be no me."

Flint grinned and slowly nodded. "Clever."

Rogers smiled back and gestured apologetically. "Thank you."

"So that's what this is. We're all reasonable men, we all want the same thing. You offer me a pardon, I accept it, this all ends?"

Rogers shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe." He pointed at the table. "The pardons are on the table. No one is being hanged. No one's even being tried. They've all been forgiven, just as you wanted. Just as Thomas Hamilton wanted. So what is it that you're fighting for that I'm not already offering?"

Flint flinched at the repeated mentioning of his friend's name, and as Rogers spoke to him he looked away, teeth clenched. "Thomas Hamilton fought to introduce the pardons to make a point." Flint looked at him again. "To seek to change England. And he was killed for it." Rogers understood why he would be bitter about it. It was a nasty story. "His wife and I went to Charles Town to argue for the pardons, to make peace with England, and she was killed for it." Flint raised his voice. "England has shown herself to me. Gnarled and gray and spiteful of anyone who would find happiness under her rule. I'm through seeking anything from England except her departure from my island."

"It was England's island first," said Rogers. "I don't imagine she's going to let it go easily-"

"I don't imagine she would," Flint interrupted him, shaking his head as if he did not care one jot.

"I see. So there we are, then."

"There we are, then," Flint agreed in a hostile tone.

Though it was clear that Flint did not care for his former ideals and had broken all ties with England, Rogers could not simply abandon the attempt. If not for himself, at least Flint could consider his crew. "What a story you'll have to spin to your men to turn me into the kind of villain worth losing their lives over."

Flint smiled at him. "I've lived on the other side of those stories. I'm sure I'll figure something out."

"I'm sure you will," grinned Rogers. Both men nodded at each other, smiling. Though inwardly Rogers sighed. It was a pity. He would have liked McGraw in another life. But he was not afraid of doing what needed to be done, if necessary. He never had. It was time to take the gloves off. "Then let us be very clear about something. I am reasonable in seeking peace. But if you insist upon making me your villain, I'll play the part. So let us assume that, as of this moment, the unqualified pardon is no more." Flint's smile was gone and he watched Rogers, dour faced. "From this moment on, any man participating in the act of high seas piracy will be presumed to be one of your men, an enemy of the state. I will hunt him, I will catch him, and I will hang him. And while I am aware of your feelings on the subject, I am no backwater magistrate cowering in fear of you. You know where to find me."

Flint pursed his lips, nodded, looked aside and rose. The man gave Rogers one last icy look, turned and trudged back to his launch where his two men waited for him.

Damn, Rogers thought. He knew he had made a mistake when he mentioned Thomas Hamilton for a second time. The bitter reminder had cut too deep into Flint. Rogers had seen the hardening in Flint's eyes. And yet, even if I hadn't, this parlay would have had the same conclusion. It was decided in Charleston, by Lord Peter Ashe. Alfred's murder had been a personal vendetta against the father who had opposed his son into an early grave. Lord Ashe grew into an ardent pirate hunter, because of it. Too late, it struck Rogers as quaint that Alfred was the one who had promoted Peter Ashe to governor of Carolina in the first place, despite the fact that Lord Ashe had tried to get the pardons through Whitehall. Did Lord Ashe betray Thomas in 1705 already? If such was the case, then the plan of Eleanor, McGraw and Lady Hamilton had been doomed to fail from the onset when they chose to trust Ashe.

Rogers sat and waited, tapping the table angrily until the launch was out of sight. His back-up emerged from behind the dune. He waved at the table and chairs. "Clean this whole place up again, and have Hornigold set up a look-out to make sure Flint actually sails off."

He stomped through the sand to his horse in a fury. Damn the man. Damn Ashe. Damn England! And damn this heat! Rogers got onto his horse and galloped as if he was leading a charge, if only to have the breeze created help him cool off. He could have cared less about Teach and Vane. He had Rackham in his fort and off to Havana by the end of the day. But after meeting Flint, he knew this was not a man he wanted as an enemy. Flint and him were two of a kind – risk takers, ambitious, fighters, scarred, knowing how far they would go to succeed, fully aware what sacrifices they would make for it. In time, he would have made Flint more than a pirate hunter had he accepted the pardon. He'd have made him commander of a Nassau fleet. That whole crew was probably worth as much as half the former pirates on the island. Damn the stubborn mule. And yet, perhaps exactly because they were so alike, them being at opposing sides was inevitable. Neither of them were like to tolerate each other's equal above the other. This will not end, before one of us is dead. Still, he won't get my island.

He clattered onto the market square, jumped off the horse and stormed into the mansion. "Any word yet about the exchange?" he asked Major Andrews.

"None, my lord. But six of my men have reported to the sick bay."

More bad news. Rogers sighed and his face was that of a storm. He felt itchy and sweaty and started to tear his stock-tie loose. He needed a bath and a change.

As he raced up the stairs to his apartment, Perkins opened his mouth. "Sir!"

Rogers stopped and looked behind him at Perkins in the Assembly Hall with dozen of men staring at them. "What is it?"

Perkins looked about him, shook his head. "Nothing, sir."

Ignoring the regulars stationed in his corridor, Rogers entered his apartment like a tempest, only to tumble into the stunning vision of Eleanor, perched on a chair, in her chemise eating her breakfast, one naked leg pulled up and her foot resting on the seat of the chair on which she sat. He had completely forgotten he had left her asleep in here. Or he at least had expected her to have been up and about at least an hour ago, at her own apartments.

Eleanor looked up at him with wide eyes as she licked marmalade from her finger. Rogers gawked at the jarring sight of her – pale, radiant skin, blonde tousled hair that fell like a wavy curtain, the suggestive finger between her lips, wide blue eyes, a sudden rosy blush endowing her cheeks. His eyes trailed her back as far as her chest, following the shape of her perky breasts, the darkened areola visible through the shift, the nipple puckering against the fabric as much as his erection strained against his trousers. Lower his eyes went to the taper of her waist, stalking the rounded cheeks of her heart shaped arse, the shadowy single dimple at the base of her back, left to her smooth thigh, pale as ivory, and the darker pink shadows he glimpsed beyond. He desperately needed some relief from the blow of this morning. So, he kicked the door closed behind him with his boot, took two tornado strides towards her and dragged her up on her feet. If he was the King of Nassau, then even the Queen must submit to him.

(Sir William Whetstone -(1696-1699) captain of HMS Dreadnought in Newfoundland (while Woodes apprenticed there from 1697-1704. (1702-1703) commodore of the West Indy fleet in Jamaica, appointed as local rear admiral. (1704-1706) commander-in-chief in Jamaica after his knighthood. Tried to convince Cuba and Cartagena to declare for the Habsburg King Charles (favourite of England and allies) instead of Philip (favourite of Louis XIV) as successor of King Charles II of Spain. (1711) Whetstone died half a year before Rogers returned from his voyage.

George Shelvocke - started in the Navy, serving in the Mediterranean as second Lieutenant. By 1713 he was beached on half-pay (end of the war). He lived in poverty until he privateered alongside Clipperton in 1719 against the Spanish as Captain of the Speedwell. Shelvocke broke away from Clipperton as soon as they were out of British waters and voyaged alone for the most part. He wrecked on Juan Fernandez and was marooned there for five months, but rebuilt a boat with timber and wreck salvage, and then proceeded to catch prizes and sailed around the world. He carried Rogers' book with him and wrote his own to contest the accusations that he had failed to inform the shareholders on all of his prizes. He died a wealthy man in 1742.

Simon Hatley - sailed with Rogers and was captured by the Spanish, imprisoned in Lima and badly treated. He returned to England in 1713. As a junior officer on Rogers' voyage (captain of a prize) he received £ 180 (equivalent of little less than £ 25,000 now). He sailed as second captain under Shelvocke on the Speedwell, and got caught while captaining a prize ship in March 1720. He ended up a prisoner in Lima, again. They wanted to hang him this time. When the war ended in February 1720, the Spanish released all the captured Britts, except Hatley (in chains and solitary). Due to Shelvocke's unambiguous piracy of Spanish ships during official peace time, Spanish authorities saw Shelvocke as the major culprit. This indirectly saved Hatley's life. He was released in 1723, returned to England. No reward awaited him, because Shelvocke had divied the prizes on the spot and kept part of it secretly. Hatley could not risk any more privateering. He went to Jamaica and served as a sailor there. He is commemorated in the Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Coleridge. Shelvocke described in his book how a superstituous Hatley shot an albatross while they were beset with storms near Cape Horn. Hatley hoped it would give them better wind.

Coffee shops - They were frequented to discuss business, writing, politics, insurances with a sober head (instead of ale that could cloud the minds). The men were there all day, drinking coffee (addicts!) and women (banned) pamphleted against coffee drinking for it kept their men 'idle'. Charles II (of England) tried to ban coffee shops - politics and the crown were discussed and debated openly. Reading and talking about anything at these places was the symbol of English liberty. Men of all class could go there: for a penny a man could have a cuppa of unlimited refills, access to papers and news notice boards ('penny universities'). Different shops serviced different clientele, divided over profession or subject. Edward Llloyd's for marine business and news (Lloyd's list) evolved into Lloyd's marine insurance market. Jonathan's coffee house issued a list of stock and commodityr prices, starting the London Stock Exchange. Sotherby's and Christie's originate from coffee houses too. Physicians used Batson's coffee house as a consulting room. Chapter was the place to be for publishers and booksellers. Scientists met at the Grecian, playwrights at Will's, etc. By mid 18th century entrance fees were asked and the gentlemen's clubs were born. Edward Lloyd died in 1713. His son in law died a year later.)