by David O'Neil
The maid who gave her the hat and parasol, whispered, “Good luck, miss.”
Antonio joined them in the carriage. “Thank you, Martin. Are you all right, Maria? I did not expect that to happen.”
“Oh, Uncle Antonio. Nor did I. She has always been distant, but I have never been spoken to like that before.”
“Who is this Count fellow?” Martin asked.
“He is all I said about him and more,” Maria answered. “He is whispered to be a member of the raiders who always seem to know which ships are carrying the best cargoes. That may be just his enemies’ talk. We have never actually met, though at a ball I saw him. He was disgusting!” She said no more.
Antonio said, “I presume you have no objection to becoming my ward. Mind you, I have not been able to discuss this with my fiancée?”
Martin smiled. “I am sure Alouette will be happy for you both.
Maria looked at both men wide-eyed. The banter between them, their ease in each other’s company and in her presence, was refreshing after the stilted formality of the Borgas house and elsewhere in the community. “Uncle Antonio, please. What does all this mean?”
Antonio looked at her sadly. “It means, my dear. that your brother was killed by pirates when his ship was ambushed in the doldrums a week north of here. In his will he asked me to become your guardian and left all his property to me, I presume, to pass on to you when you come of age. It seemed he did not trust the Borgas family to ensure that you received your due from his estate. How do you feel about all this?”
Maria looked at the man who had been her brother’s friend, a man known only from short visits in the past. Her recollection of him was of a smiling person who played with her, however, and always brought her a present when he visited. She did not hesitate. “We accepted that my father was dead, when he did not return when he was expected.
I am happy to accept your guardianship, Uncle Antonio. I would leave this unhappy place without regret. Please let us visit the lawyers and make my parting from this stifling city as soon as possible.”
Chapter nine
Eldorado?
The two frigates sailed in company south, to the small port town of Caravelas within the estuary of the Rio Caravelas.
The arrival allowed Maria and her duenna to spend time ashore, a situation welcomed by the duenna who was slow to acquire her sea legs. Once ensconced in the hotel, Maria was taken in by the daughter of the Viceroy who was visiting relatives in the area.
The Commodore and Martin were able to concentrate on the task at hand. The treasury agent, Senor Alfredo Lopez, was helpful and hopeful, “Gentlemen, it is not in my power to give you what has not yet arrived. The gold shipments are en-route but there will be delays. Possibly long delays if the rains come while they are passing through the forest. I have received the message that the gold from Minas Pardos and Patios have passed Nanuque and reached Minas Novas. That was still 200 kilometres away. They set out from there seven days ago. They are still a week maybe ten days away.” He shrugged, “This is Brazil, gentlemen. It is not an easy country.”
“Are there any troops here that can assist the convoy to get here sooner? I am troubled by the thought that the pirates that sank the Manaus will attempt to raid the convoy before it reaches the coast. Has any raid like this been attempted before?”
The agent’s smile vanished. In a dull voice he said, “Every year we lose gold. I decide what we ship from here, only me. I had to tell Admiral Campos, and of course yourself and Captain Diaz. No others, I swear.”
Martin looked at the man keenly. “No others, Senor Lopez? Is that what you are saying?”
Lopez nodded uneasily. “No others!” He confirmed.
“Does your wife know?” Martin persisted.
“Of course she does. I trust her implicitly.”
“With your life, Senor?” Martin refused to let it go.
Antonio looked at him curiously, wondering at his interrogation of the agent. He said nothing, waiting to see what the agent would say.
“How about your wife’s friends? Her hairdresser, the ladies she socialises with, are they trustworthy too?”
The agent was worried now, confirming Martin’s suspicions that the knowledge of important events would maintain a social status in this small town at the top level.
To Martin’s eye, the agent was not as confident as he had first maintained. “Maps!” He snapped.
The Agent jerked as if struck. Then he hurried to a cabinet and produced maps of the area.
On the big map of the area Martin jabbed a finger at the town of Mucuri 50 kilometres south on the coast from their current location. “This river, can it be navigated by boat?”
Lopez looked. “Yes, it can. It is used by fishermen, and canoes come down from the very head of the Rio Mucuri.”
Martin looked at Antonio. “Very good, Senor Lopez. I see that you have done all you can to ensure the security of the gold. I will send a party to meet the convoy.” Antonio bowed briefly and turned to leave.
The agent saw them to the door. “About a week, Commodore, maybe ten days.”
As they walked down the street to the hotel where Maria and her maid awaited them, Martin said, “I will take my ship to Mucuri and we will make all speed upriver to intercept the convoy. If you send a party to meet the convoy from here, we can possibly scotch any plan to steal the gold, and even perhaps catch the men who killed your friend.”
Antonio agreed. “Lieutenant Santos is trustworthy and he can lead my men by the road. There are horses in the barracks, though I fear your party will reach them by river first.”
The party was selected to take to the boats and intercept the gold convoy, using the longboat, and the jollyboat.
***
As was reported, the river Mucuri was navigable. At first there was breeze which allowed them to sail for four days up the winding waters. But from there on it was hard work, as the trees closed in stifling what wind there was. They came upon the boats six days from the river mouth. Warned by a musket shot, they approached a bend in the river cautiously, Martin sent his scouts ashore to locate the source of the shot.
They reported back two hours later. The tall Scotsman, MacLean, led the scouts. His clipped accents when he reported reminded Martin of his excursion in France, just a few months back, another time, another world.
“Ten boats, three men all armed, but they have doxies with them, ’Tis a picnic they are having. Laughing and shouting and spending money they don’t have. I heard one, an Irisher I think, saying the gold was on its way. Most of the boats are there for cargo, but I guess there will be about eighteen men after the gold with a bunch of muleteers to drive the mules carrying it. This sort of thing seems to be a regular game they play in places like this. Mostly its ‘turn a blind eye’. But this lot are plain greedy, there are enough bottoms for three tons at least to my way of thinking.”
Martin scratched absently at an insect bite as he pondered the matter. “What do you think, MacLean?”
Without hesitation MacLean said, “Take them away, along with the girls. With a bit of luck the men with the gold will think the lads lost their nerve and buggered off with their women.”
“Mr. Gibb, take a party, and capture the three men and their women. Bring them here as quietly as possible.”
Gibb, already growing out of his uniform, sweaty and dishevelled from the journey upriver, was taller now, more assured, popular with the men and learning fast.
Turning to Maclean he said, “Gather a party together and we’ll go hunting.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Maclean walked off, signalling to selected men.
Martin sat back against the transom, uncomfortable unwashed, but pleased that they were not faced with wading through the jungle.
The dash down to Mucuri had been assisted by the Brazil current that paralleling the coast southward. The sail upriver had been difficult because of the shoals they encountered and the dangers from the underwater life in the river. The
caimans, floating like logs in the warmed top layer of the water, were huge. They had seen one on their travels take a calf from the bank of the river. There were snakes, and he had seen what he thought to be the anaconda. It was big and seen only in parts, the visible sections rising out of the water in a series of semi-loops. He sometimes thought, as he slapped another mosquito to oblivion, this place was selected to get rid of every sort of nasty, poisoning, biting, tearing sort of creature on God’s earth. Every year more and more people were coming to this country. As they spread out the animals would leave or be hunted.
He began to think he did not really care.
The six prisoners were placed under guard.
***
The party lay in wait for a further two days before the scouts reported the approach of the mule train. With his men Martin set up an ambush placing the men where their musket fire would not kill the wrong people. The small cannon normally mounted on the deck rail was set up on a mount produced by the carpenter, and loaded with pistol balls for the best effect.
When the ambush was sprung, the muleteers froze on the spot. The armed men fired at the escorts and on three occasions tackled them with their cutlasses. The hectic fight lasted ten minutes and felt to Martin like ten hours.
Finally, they gathered the survivors of the raiders and the muleteers and downloaded the gold from the mules, placing the packs into the boats. This was not the entire shipment. It seemed this was the annual skim, which was normally spirited away every other year.
With the surviving raiders added to the other six prisoners under guard, they set off down the river. The muleteers were told to return home with their mules.
The descent of the river was faster than the ascent. Just two days after the ambush the triumphant party returned to their ship. The prisoners went to the local jail, though Martin doubted whether they would remain locked up for long. As soon as the ship was out of sight, he guessed, they would be released.
For Antonio’s men there was a rather more difficult task. His men had to traverse the terrible road to the interior. While it was not the rainy season, the dust and ruts made the road a challenge to those seamen who still suffered from seasickness. The wagon and mules could make progress through the dust and ruts but there was little comfort to be felt in these conditions.
The warning given of the approach of the main convoy was sufficient to allow for an ambush to be set.
The ensuing firefight was won before the pirates realised that there was anyone capable of opposing them. The soldiers of the original escort had been ruthlessly slaughtered, despite the agreement reached in advance between the officer in charge, and the pirate captain who had just used it to discover the details of departure and route. The pirate ambush had been devastating and effective.
Lieutenant Santos and his men had managed to lay their ambush before the track divided between the road north to Alcobaca and Caravelas.
The survivors of the ambush had been dumped in the wagon and transported with the gold to the treasury in Caravelas.
Their return was greeted with mixed reaction in the port. Martin had already returned. The gold his party had recovered been loaded aboard HMS Vixen. He discharged the ballast overboard during the night and replaced it with the gold shipment. He had no illusions about the honesty of the local population. During the voyage north the ballast was trimmed to balance the ship properly once more.
In Caravelas, the prisoners taken by Lieutenant Santos were placed aboard the Sao Paulo, in view of Antonio’s own misgivings about the local population.
Martin arrived the day Santos returned so he and Antonio conducted their investigations together, interviewing the prisoners individually, and transferring them to Martin’s ship when they had extracted as much as they could from each of them.
The pirate leader, Captain Maranz had been wounded in the ambush. He had maintained a close mouth for the entire journey back to Caravelas. Antonio noted his dismay when the prisoners were placed on the ship, rather than in the town jail. When the time came to interrogate him he was transferred to the British frigate, where it was made clear to him that he would be subject to British justice. Despite his protests and several applications from the civil authorities, he was held on the ship.
His arrogant attitude had been based on the expectation of help from friends on shore. before he realised that they would not be dealing with him, he had been heard to boast of the taking of the Manaus. When questioned he did not deny it. “I thought the strategy was good, I knew that if any escaped, the raid would be blamed on the people of the Sargasso Sea.”
Antonio said quietly, “Do you know these people you speak of?”
“Of course not. That’s an old wives’ tale. There are no such people!” Captain Maranz spat the words out contemptuously.
On the Vixen was a carpenter’s mate named Furby. Jacob Furby was somewhere between fifty and ninety, perhaps some stop between, a little knurled, gnome-like man with hands that could carve wood into shapes of beauty. Having had a chat with his Captain before the arrival of Maranz in Vixen, he was ready to do his bit in the interrogation.
The second interview with Maranz was on the subject of local officials in his pay. The lack of co-operation on this subject was disappointing, until Furby walked into the room and spied the pirate. “I know him, Captain. We picked up several of the people who escaped after he had attacked their ships. They drifted into the weed and we picked ‘em up. Some have joined the colony. Other took their chances with their boats. This one will be welcome in Dorado.” He turned to Martin. “We calls it that, because it were the treasure we found when we were shipwrecked and adrift in ’90. There were women aboard, going to Jamaica in bondage. We brought the place to life when we arrived. The one thing we are always short of was meat. This one is quite well fed.” He pinched Marantz on the arm. “I reckon they’ll harvest him. We have a good surgeon. We can probably make him last a month at least!”
“He seems to think the stories about the colony in the Sargasso weed is rubbish, an old wives’ tale no less. I suppose he’ll think again when he gets there.”
Maranz was getting agitated. Could it be true that there was a collection of wrecks in the weed? ‘Dorado’ that meant gold. Ships carried gold. There could be treasure there. He thought the horrible little man sounded convincing and he looked odd enough. He looked at the grimacing face and shuddered. He was talking of cannibalism.
“I can help you find the people who informed us about the gold,” he suggested. “But only if you promise not to send me to the Sargasso with this gargoyle.” He said spitefully.
Furby smacked Maranz on the cheek. “We’ll enjoy a bit of fresh meat.” He said and walked out of the cabin.
Watching, Martin studied Maranz as Furby walked out. He looked terrified!
He looked at Antonio and nodded then turned to Maranz and said, “It’s now up to the Portuguese. I am here as a guest. There is little I can do.” He walked out after Furby. He left Antonio with the sweating Maranz.
It was not surprising to Martin that Maranz elected to take Antonio’s proposition, rather than chance the hazards of being handed to Furby for an uncertain future as a prospective main course in the Sargasso.
There was little they could do about the enemy in the Brazilian treasury. The name of Don Carlos Reza was duly noted and entered in the log of the Sao Paulo. When they arrived in England his infamy would be recorded and a warrant issued.
Maria was discovering the joy of freedom from the oppressive control of the Borgas family. She accepted the constraints of life aboard ship and insisted on learning the routine and tasks undertaken by the crew. All the officers and midshipmen on both frigates were enchanted by her ready wit and her acceptance of the rigours of life at sea.
Chapter ten
Homeward bound
HER ADOPTION OF Martin as ex-officio uncle meant that there was a place for her on Vixen whenever she felt like a change. It gave her a chance to practice her English
and gave Neil Harmon and Percy Gibb a chance to join the list of admiring escorts. Weather permitting, she happily passed from ship to ship, and in the doldrums she signalled the start of the races rowed between the two ships.
As they left the doldrums and picked up the NE trade winds, the weather became changeable and the ships now made serious progress homeward. Maria was forced to stay on the Sao Paulo. The need for speed and the wind that drove them conspired to separate the two ships, though they did not lose contact.
As the days past they neared the channel. The weather was blustery with patches of sunshine between the ragged clouds. The frantic pace slowed a little, but the urgency to complete their mission allowed for no hesitation now. The enforced hiatus of the doldrums were a memory. The relentless progression of sail trimming and changing, the hammering of the waves, sometimes storm driven, and the clank of the pumps heard more often as well as the working of the ship’s timbers.
The first sighting of a ship was as they were passing between the Canary Islands and Madeira. Fishing boats from Funchal were hailed and were happy to sell their catch to the two ships that approached them. The islands had not been troubled by the French and there was little real news. The trade between Lisbon and Madeira had been haphazard since the war in Europe, though there was news that the British had landed an army in Portugal in August, and achieved two victories over the French. Wellesley was named as the commander of the army. There was little other real information of what was happening.
The race home was resumed after a short conference between Martin and Antonio. They agreed that if the information was correct, the Sao Paulo would stand off while Vixen called in at Lisbon to check on what was happening. Given contacts by the Commodore, Martin would check on the status of the rule in the capital city, and if possible he would confer with the British commander.