by David O'Neil
Admiral Charles Bowers saw them off standing with the three ladies. His final action was to place a package on Martin’s hands. “From Cornwallis!” He said quietly. “In the event of conflict, this is a written order.”
The small group stood on the quay watching the two boats being pulled out to the two frigates flying the ensigns of Britain and Portugal. Both ships were under way while the small boats were still rising from the water.
The small party ashore stood there until the frigates cleared the harbour, only then mounting their carriage to return to Eastney.
Chapter eight
South
The frigates made way down channel. Without anything being said, Martin noticed that the sailing masters of both ships were competing to get the utmost out of what were two swift ships. The result was felt in slight adjustments to the ballast, and improved familiarity with the sails, including the fine tuning so important in the handling of warships.
Having called upon the Brest blockade off Ushant with the latest news and orders, the two frigates embarked on the long haul south and west to the mainland of South America.
At this stage Antonio Ramos, handed Martin a chart with their destination marked.
“The gold caravan should be in Caravelas, by the time we arrive.
The two captains sat down together and marked rendezvous points on the chart in the event that they were separated during the long voyage south. They expected to take up to five weeks to reach their destination.
Antonio mentioned, “Delays could be encountered in the doldrums, or not! The winds in the southern part of the Atlantic range from strong and contrary, to nothing in the doldrums. The current winds are fair and we could expect help from the trade winds further south. Once past the doldrums, its pot luck I’m afraid.”
“How about pirates?” Martin asked.
Antonio laughed. “Your guess is as good as mine. The worst I have ever encountered was in a barque. Luckily he had the legs of my ship, otherwise it would have been the yardarm for him. He did not lack courage. He just decided discretion was his best option and sailed out of trouble.”
***
The two ships made good time until they reached the doldrums. There the winds dropped and became fitful, before finally, disappearing completely.
By agreement the first two days were spent checking and renewing worn ropes and repairing sails. The third day was given to allowing the boats to be launched and races rowed between the two ships. The make-and-mend period ended. The fourth day both ships went back to work. The longboats started to pull the ships to the south, toward the area where they could expect a renewal of the winds. It was on the third day that the Manaus hove into view.
The call from the masthead warned Martin that there was an object on the horizon. As the day progressed it became evident that it was a wrecked ship. Both frigates sent a boat party to investigate.
The boat under the command of Lieutenant Brooks came alongside the wrecked ship as Lieutenant Santos with the boat from the Sao Paulo reached the other side.
Santos called out to Brooks. “It is the Manaus, she was to carry the silver that we carried. She did not arrive and we were instructed to bring the silver instead.”
Brooks climbed aboard. The starboard bulwark was four feet clear of the water, not difficult to climb, but the wood was slimy to touch as the wreck had been adrift for a long time. The stump of the foremast was festooned with weed and there was the smell of rotting seaweed in the air. From the visible damage it was evident that the ship had been involved in a gun battle. Lieutenant Santos joined him. “She has been in the Sargasso sea, I think, after the battle.”
“I agree.” Brooks said, “Let us see if there is anything inside.” He stepped carefully over to the stair down to the door in the low sterncastle. The door was jammed shut, but it gave way to the assault of musket butts. The Captain’s cabin was a mess. The contents largely covered in green mould. The skeleton in the chair, indicated that someone had survived the battle, though he also had died. In the drawer of the desk that had been anchored to the deck, was the ship’s log, It was damp and discoloured, but the drawer had prevented it from falling to bits, like most of the other paper in the room. Santos opened the book carefully. The last entry was a year ago. The writing—scrawled and blotted—was a farewell to family.
Santos looked no further, and he turned to Brooks, “This I must give to my captain. The captain of the Manaus was his friend. It seems that she was left to sink by whoever attacked her. I would guess that she drifted into the Sargasso, and that is one of the reasons she is still afloat.”
Brooks looked at Santos curiously. He had heard of the Sargasso Sea, but not too much. “Why should that help keep the ship afloat?” He asked.
Santos smiled. “The Sargasso is weed. Masses of floating weed spread over a large area of the ocean. It has the effect of calming the rough sea. When a storm lifts the water into high-breaking waves that causes trouble for ships elsewhere, in the Sargasso, the weed has a calming effect. It gets broken up into patches surely, but the overall effect is to stop the waves breaking over a large area of water. It has been observed, and it has given rise to the stories of a pirate haven in the centre where ships have drifted and are now gathered into a township of survivors, who prey on passing ships.” Once more he smiled. “The story belongs I fear with those other stories of ghosts, and ghouls, and sea monsters that eat ships.” He tapped the side of his head. “Where a story is told there will always be believers!”
***
Two more days of slow progress was followed by the first flirt of wind. After discussing the matter with Antonio, both decided that the boat crews towing the ships be worked during daylight hours only and the pulling be shared throughout the crew, limited to two hours only.
***
Antonio turned back to the log book. “This will probably tell us of the fate that befell the Manaus, and of Captain Carlos Diaz.”
Reading the log book, he and Martin realised that the fate of the Manaus had been decided by an attack that took the crew by surprise. It had come after nightfall with the crew exhausted from towing the two-deck ship throughout the day. Attacked by four small craft each armed with 3 x 18pound carronade guns. All were propelled by sweeps and were highly manoeuvrable. They attacked without warning, and the guns of the Manaus could not depress enough to cause the attackers damage. All the attacking craft were loaded with men and they swept through the ship killing everyone they found. The survivor had been Lieutenant Pietro Diego, second officer who had been knocked unconscious and tumbled over the stern rail. He fell onto the stern gallery and lay there for several hours before he awoke to find himself the sole survivor of the crew. Though wounded, he managed to crawl into the captain’s cabin through the stern window. He was able to get some food from the steward’s store, missed by the pirates. Finding the ship’s log on the floor of the cabin, he wrote entries into the log detailing his own experience and the story of the attack as he saw it. He also mentioned that the attackers must have come from a base well out to sea, perhaps a bigger ship of some sort. The boats were all man-powered. He had the impression they were of shallow draught.
The weed was gathering around the shattered hull and this apparently triggered the conjecture that the raid could have been made by people from the legendary colony of lost ships, supposedly in the depths of the Sargasso Sea.
***
The discovery of the wrecked ship caused both Captains to launch guard boats. For the period of the dark of the night, the guard boats lay off, and listened for the sound of oars, or anything else that may be a threat.
It was a relief when the wind returned.
In the log book of the Manaus it was clear that she was expected to be carrying silver. Apparently the change of plan had not been anticipated. The Santo Antonio had been given the cargo instead. The French attempt to annex the cargo had been a private enterprise agreement between the Admiral and the French, and this was one of the
reasons for the Admiral’s belated appearance on the quay to join the ship for the voyage.
Following directions from Antonio, the secret section of deck in the Captain’s cabin of Manaus was located and the ship’s strongbox recovered.
Despite the fact that the ship was Portuguese, Antonio invited Martin to be with him when the box was opened.
Having no idea what may have been placed in the box, Martin was intrigued and curious as the carpenter chiselled the lock open. When the carpenter left them Antonio raised the lid, exposing the contents to view.
The first thing Martin noticed was an ingot of gold. It was just there, the stamp of the Portuguese Royal Treasury was evident through the accumulated dust that still clung to the otherwise dried-out contents.
Antonio lifted the heavy metal brick from the box to reveal an ornamental box made of what looked like ebony, black wood at least. There was a lump in the middle of the lid. When Antonio lifted the box out, his thumb rubbed the lump to reveal a facet that flashed green in the sunlight that lit the cabin. He wiped the box with a piece of cloth and the stone set in the box lid took fire. The box itself was beautifully decorated with inlays of nacre and other gemstones. Opened, it revealed an array of jewellery that sparkled in the sunlight. Martin gasped! It was obviously an extremely valuable collection.
The oilskin-bound package at the bottom of the box showed the imprint of the box, indicating that it had been kept in that state for a long time.
As Antonio took the package of papers from the box he nodded at the jewel box and commented. “That, I believe, is a relic of Carlos’s time in Macau, China.
Antonio looked thoughtful and scratched his chin. He lifted the oilskin wrapped packet, and carried it over to his desk.
Seated, he carefully opened the seal on the packet and exposed the papers within. On top was an envelope which contained Carlos’s Will. Antonio put it to one side and checked through the rest of the documents. Martin, sitting on the other side of the desk, waited patiently, passing the time drinking his wine and relaxing.
Eventually Antonio opened the envelope and examined the Will document. Having read it he placed the document on the desk and leaned back.
Martin poured a fresh glass of wine for his friend. Antonio picked it up and absently drank it. Placing the glass back on the desk he said, “Martin, do you think I am a trustworthy person?”
Martin smiled. “Probably! Why do you ask?”
“This is a Will created by my friend Carlos Diaz. He has left his entire estate to me, entrusting me to look after his sister who is currently in Salvador. It is where Carlos had his home. I have stayed many times there when I have been in Brazil.”
“Do you know the lady in question?”
“No, not really. I met her when she was a small girl. She was bright and lively, fun to be with. I think it will be four years since I saw her last. Would you believe I was known as Uncle Antonio when I visited his home? Maria is more like a daughter than a sister. She is, was, twenty-five years younger than Carlos. She must be fifteen years old now. I believe in Carlos’s absence she stays with her grandparents.
“Senor Diaz, his father, had married a second time to Mariette Borgas, an old colonial family. That was after Carlos’s mother was killed in an Indian raid on their plantation. Maria’s mother and their father died thereafter, during the war against Paraguay in ’02.
Martin thought for a moment. “Will you bring her to England?”
“I do not know. I will think about it on the way south. I have the idea that my friend expected me to take her into my home, until she has reached the age to inherit. I will then pass her father’s legacy to her. By naming me, he saved his fortune falling into the hands of the Borgas family, as Maria is too young to inherit.
For some reason Carlos did not entirely trust the family.” He shrugged, “Onwards to Brazil, I suppose. There, all will be resolved.”
***
With the return of the breeze the ships hauled in their boats, and with all sail set they headed south to the coast of Brazil and the port/city of Salvador. Both captains had agreed that the sooner that Antonio’s ward was retrieved from her grandparents the better.
The trade winds kept the crews busy handling sails. They were able to make good progress on the stretch down the coastline of Brazil.
Five days later the two frigates anchored in Baia de Todos os Santos (All Saints Bay). Salvador had once been the capital of Brazil though it was no longer the city it once was. The past 55 years had seen a slump in growth since the capital was removed to Rio de Janairo in 1763 and the once rich city had settled into its role as a backwater. The officials greeting the ships reflected this in their casual attitude.
At the request of the Commodore, Martin accompanied him in the carriage to a secluded quarter of the city, where the home of the Borgas family was to be found.
The carriage drew up in front of the cream coloured, colonial style house, the covered porch framed by a shower of bougainvillea, in red and blue.
Their arrival was greeted by whirlwind of lilac and white that rushed out and embraced Martin, who had descended first while Antonio collected the assortment of things he had brought with him.
The astonished Martin laughed as he felt the soft arms round his neck and the breath of the pretty girl on his face.
“Pardon me?” He said in halting Portuguese.
The young woman fell back in confusion. “Oh my! Senor! My apologies, I believed that you were my Uncle Antonio.” She stood back and Martin, smiling, said, “No apologies needed, Maria. The pleasure was all mine.” He swept a deep bow. “Captain Sir Martin Forest-Bowers, British Royal Navy, at your service.”
The young woman curtseyed in response. “Maria Diaz.” Her voice was controlled and musical. The giggle was nearly concealed.
Antonio had meanwhile descended from the carriage bedecked with parcels and his voice interrupted the dialogue between the two. “You cannot be little Maria?”
She turned to her adoptive uncle, and spun around before him. “I have, as you may observe, Uncle Antonio, grown up!” Then she flung her arms around him disregarding the packages flying in all directions as he lifted and swung her round with a joyful shout of greeting. “Where is little ‘Mophead’? She has gone. Who is this woman who has taken her place?”
“She has apparently forgotten her manners!” The icy voice from the doorway had the effect of a bucket of cold water on the happy reunion between the two.
Martin turned and looked at the figure in the shadow of the portico. Tall and slender, the woman, he knew, had to be quite old, but her back was ramrod straight; her features retained the beauty of her younger years. Senora Gabrielle Borgas was an imposing figure. Her manner expected acknowledgement in kind and it was a chastened party who entered the house at her invitation.
The tone of the greeting was the tone of the meeting.
Antonio explained about the circumstances of the death of Carlos and produced the will which in effect transferred the guardianship of Maria to Antonio, provided Maria agreed, and the disposition of the properties owned by Carlos which would eventually revert to Maria.
The Senora looked at the two men with her icy blue eyes. “This is impossible! Maria will remain here under my care. I have arranged a betrothal with a suitable young man. Her life is here and here she will stay.
Martin saw that Antonio was rather stunned at the attitude of the Senora. He said diplomatically, “Perhaps we should hear what Maria has to say on the matter?”
“Rubbish! She is a child. I speak for her as her grandmother.”
Martin turned to Maria. “Do you wish to accept the guardianship of the Commodore?”
Maria looked at Martin, then at Antonio, and finally at her grandmother. “Betrothal? When were you going to inform me?”
For the first time the Senora looked uncomfortable. “I was going to tell you at the right time. These things are best dealt with over time and with careful selection and due respect to
dowry and suitability.”
“And who is selected for me, may I ask?” Maria’s voice had become as icy as her grandmother’s.
Gabrielle Borgas lifted her head defiantly. “Count Arturo de Campo. A suitable wealthy man who’s…..”
Maria did not allow her to finish. “That stupid posturing idiot! His whoring and gambling have made him the talk of Salvador. What title he holds is worthless. As is his inheritance that he has dissipated. He had the charm of slug. How dare you consider that I would ever agree to marry such an excuse for a man!”
“As my ward you will do as I say. You have no say in the matter. Go to your room, child. I will deal with you later.”
Antonio stood up at that point. “Maria, have the maid pack your things. I will send for them. Your brother’s house has been prepared for me and I have the services of a suitable duenna to look after you, until the legal aspects of this are settled.” He turned to Senora Borgas. “Madam, I am disappointed in you. While I could understand a grandmother’s wish to keep grandchildren close, your manner and attitude have convinced me that there is a mercenary aspect to this situation that I find distasteful. I suggest you contact the Count and advise him that any contracts entered into between you and him, are hereby cancelled. In the terms of the Will of the legal guardian of Maria, I have been the guardian of the young lady for the past fourteen months. Please submit your account for the care and accommodation of my ward to my lawyers. They will see that it is attended to. If Maria wishes to contact you she may. But it would be in your interest to allow her to contact you, rather than the other way round.”
Martin listened to Antonio with respect. He had not been confident in the face of Senora Borgas. He rose to his feet. “Miss Diaz?”
She took his arm, then turned to her grandmother. “I had no idea,.” she said. She tugged Martin’s arm, to leave the room. Martin saw she was on the verge of tears, and made haste to get her out of the house while she was still in control.