The wanton princess rb-8

by Dennis Wheatley

  As it was now December 18th and the odds were that Missiessy would not find a chance to escape the blockade during the first few days of January, Roger reckoned that he would have at least a fortnight and, with luck, three weeks in which to get from Paris to London then back to Rochefort. But the only route open to him was via Bordeaux and Devon. For there to be any hope of his getting back early in the New Year, not a moment must be lost.

  At the hostelry he ordered a fresh horse to be saddled for him, crammed a suit of civilian clothes and a few other things into a valise, then from under a loose board in his bedroom took a money belt stuffed with gold pieces and two letters of credit that he always kept there against an emergency. Soon after midnight he was in the saddle and on his way out of Paris.

  On the 22nd he reached Bordeaux but there met with a nasty setback. The smuggler who had put him over on his last two trips had not returned from a crossing he had made early the previous month, so was presumed to be cither dead or captured by the English.

  By frequenting seamen's taverns during the next two days he at length got in touch with another smuggler named Jubert. But in spite of an offer of lavish payment Jubert proved sullen and difficult. His craft was already loaded with a cargo of wine but he refused to put to sea on account of the weather, although Roger had several times made the crossing when it was worse.

  At last, on the 28th, Jubcrt's avarice overcame his fears and for the highest sum Roger had ever paid he agreed to sail. The passage, although rough enough to make Roger ill, was not particularly bad but, only two hours after they had left Bordeaux, they ran into trouble. Out of the night there emerged a British sloop of war. They were hailed and ordered to heave to. Jubert ignored the order and put about in an attempt to get away, but the sloop sent a cannon ball crashing through his rudder. This lucky shot rendered the ship out of control, whereupon the sloop came alongside and grappled her.

  The sound of the shot brought Roger on deck. At a glance he took in the situation and had swiftly to decide what to do. Suddenly it occurred to him that this apparent disaster might prove a blessing in disguise and enable him to send his information to London without landing in England.

  Stepping up to Jubert—now haggard at the thought of not only losing his cargo but spending years in an English prison—Roger said quietly, 'Leave this to me. I have a big sum of money with me and may be able to buy them off.'

  A young officer accompanied by six British tars with drawn cutlasses scrambled aboard. Jubcrt stood back, and Roger, addressing the officer in broken English, told him that he was responsible for the ship. He then asked to be taken to the Captain of the sloop. Ten minutes later he was in her after-cabin with her commander, a middle-aged Lieutenant.

  As soon as they were alone Roger ceased all pretence of being a Frenchman and said, 'Lieutenant, I am a British agent in the personal service of the Prime Minister. Your having intercepted us is most fortunate. I have information regarding the future movements of the French fleet which should be conveyed to him with the utmost urgency. I pray you get it to him with all possible speed, and release this smuggler so that he can land me again in France and I can continue the important work I am doing there.'

  In spite of his perfect English, the Lieutenant at first refused to believe him. But after half an hour, during which Roger answered innumerable questions for which he could hardly have provided the answers had he not been brought up in Hampshire and been acquainted with a number of prominent Englishmen, the Lieutenant was convinced of his bona fides. Pen and paper were provided and he sat down in the heaving sloop to write his despatch for Mr. Pitt. When he had done he gave it to the Lieutenant to read through. Realizing its vital nature, the officer said he would set a course for Plymouth and, although reluctant to do so, agreed to release the smuggler, provided he made no further attempt to land his illicit cargo.

  Back aboard the smuggler Roger pulled a long face as he told Jubert that it had cost him twelve thousand five hundred francs to bribe the Englishman to let them go, but that for that sum he had also agreed to undertake certain business for him in England which now made it unnecessary for him to go there himself. He added that he had given his word that no further attempt should be made on this trip to land the cargo and that, even if he was prepared to break it, with the sloop still in the vicinity it would be suicidal to do so; but that there was nothing to prevent Jubert from attempting to put his cargo across in a few days' time.

  Jubert, thanking his stars that he had had a passenger aboard rich enough to save himself and his ship from cap­ture, at once agreed to put back to port, and in the early hours of the morning Roger was landed at the old harbour in Bordeaux.

  It was now December 29th and Rochefort lay only a hundred miles to the north; so he had time in hand. On the afternoon of the 31st he arrived there and reported to Admiral Comte de Missiessy. The Admiral and his senior officers were about to celebrate the New Year of 1805. Roger was invited to join them and spent a hectic evening, now overjoyed to think that his vital information was on its way to Mr. Pitt by a safe hand, and that he was assured of a pas­sage which, with any reasonable luck, would get him to the West Indies within six to eight weeks.

  He would have been far from being so pleased with himself had he known that within twelve hours of his leaving the sloop of war she had encountered a French frigate. After a sharp engagement the sloop had got away but her after-structure had been set on fire, Roger's despatch had gone up in flames, and the sloop's Commander, who was the only man aboard who knew its contents, had been killed during the action. So, after all, Nelson's fleet was destined to be lured on a long, futile chase to the West Indies.

  25

  Disastrous Voyage

  It was not until January 11th that, bad weather during the preceding days having driven off the British ships blockading Rochefort, Missiessy's squadron was able to break out. Its ten ships, carrying nearly twelve thousand troops in addition to their crews, were crammed to suffocation. Between decks hammocks were slung in serried rows alternately head to foot as close as sardines in a tin, and each was shared by three men for stretches of eight hours in every twenty four. For the rest of the time those who were not sleeping either lay about playing cards beneath the hammocks or, by companies, were in turn taken up on deck to be exercised. The officers, too, had to share cabins, and Roger, being as Governor designate of Dominica a person of importance, considered himself lucky in having a small stateroom with a bunk to himself and only one other in it that was occupied by a Brigadier.

  Even so, he was in for five weeks of unending misery. The French fleet had not yet fully recovered from the effects of the Revolution, when all but a very small percentage of its experienced officers had either become victims of the Terror or gone into exile. Since Napoleon's coming to power dis­cipline had been restored; but for the best part of ten years the sailors had lazed about, refusing to do any but essential work, so almost nothing had been done to keep the ships in good repair and they were still in a deplorable state.

  As soon as the squadron struck bad weather the condition of the ships, which had lain for so long in port, became tcrrifyingly evident. Half-rotten sails were split by the wind before they could be furled, frayed ropes snapped, capstan bars broke, spars snapped off and no fewer than ten masts crashed onto the crowded decks killing scores of men. Roger as usual, was terribly seasick; so too were over ninety per cent of those on board. For days on end he could keep nothing down and even when the storm had blown itself out the stench continued to be so appalling that periodically it still made him vomit.

  He lost over a stone in weight and to add to his suffering could not rid his mind of the constant fear that they would encounter a British squadron. Even two or three line-of-battle ships manned by officers and men of the Royal Navy, trained to fight their ships with split-second efficiency and hardened by countless months at sea in all weathers, could have taken on Missiessy's whole squadron and wrought the most appal­ling carnage among the seethi
ng masses of men who packed his ships. But in that, at least, Roger was lucky; for throughout the voyage they did not sight a hostile sail and, despite the shortcomings of his ships and crews, Missiessy succeeded in getting his squadron to Martinique by February 20th.

  When they dropped anchor in the splendid bay of Fort de France the scene Roger saw through his cabin porthole aroused very mixed memories. For seven months he had enormously enjoyed being Governor of the island and, by dealing harshly with malcontents but using sweet reason with its leading citizens, brought the French settlers to co-operate with him in administering British rule. Then, after being recalled to England by Mr. Pitt to undertake a special mis­sion, he had returned four months later to find that his wife, Amanda, had just died in giving birth to little Susan. It had been a terrible shock for, although as with all the other women he had known, had the need arisen he would have sacrificed Amanda for Georgina, she had been a good wife and a charming companion; so he had loved her dearly and had mourned her death for many months.

  He remained in his cabin, rather than go up on deck, for a very good reason. In Fort de France there were hundreds of people who had known him as His Excellency Mr. Roger Brook; so to have gone ashore would have been fatal. As a reason for not doing so he had decided to sham illness as long as they were anchored off the town, and in preparation for this deception he had given out twenty-four hours earlier that he had a slight fever which, he feared, heralded an attack of malaria. The ship's chief doctor had been to see him, given him some quinine pills, which it had recently been discovered were a good remedy for the disease and. without showing the reluctance Roger felt, he had allowed himself to be bled. His brother officers were too elated at the prospect of getting ashore to give much thought to him; and, having taken lo his bunk with a number of books, he had reconciled himself to remaining there until the squadron sailed for Dominica. But at least he was able to relieve his self-inflicted captivity by enjoying meals of newly-killed poultry, fresh fish and tropical fruits.

  Admiral Villaret-Joycuse, who commanded in Martinique, proved most helpful in sending men to assist in making the repairs necessary in Missiessy's ships and revictualling them; so they were made fit to sail again in a little over a week.

  But, Roger learned from the Brigadier who shared his cabin, Missiessy was by no means so helpful to Villaret-Joyeuse. The latter was much concerned about a small island called Diamond Rock, which lay a few miles to the southwest of Martinique. When, in accordance with the treaty of Amiens, the British had returned Martinique to the French, a party of British subjects had retired to the Rock with their possessions and a number of small ships. During the peace the French had not interfered with them and they had suc­ceeded in supporting themselves. When war was again dec­lared they had promptly sent for help to Dominica, troops and cannon had been sent to garrison die island and, ever .-.ince, it had proved a thorn in the side of French shipping approaching Fort de France. Villaret-Joyeuse had attempted but failed to take this stronghold, and now he appealed to Missiessy to capture it for him. But Missiessy refused to delay his own mission, and set sail for Dominica.

  The northern tip of Martinique lay only twenty-five miles from the southern tip of Dominica, and Roseau, the capital of the latter, some forty-five from Fort de France. The wind being fairly favourable the passage was made in a little under two days and, soon after dawn, the French squadron appeared off Roseau.

  Roger, who meanwhile had declared himself recovered, knew that a great part of the island, dominated by a lofty extinct volcano, Mornc Diablotin, was covered with dense jungle. In spite of that, had he been commanding the expedi­tion he would have landed his troops on the eastern shore and, even had it taken a fortnight, had them cut their way through the jungle to assault the capital from the rear. As the garrison of such a place was unlikely to consist of more than a single battalion, and the French had twelve thousand men at their disposal, by adopting such a strategy they could not have failed to take it; and on the island there were no other towns of importance, so the surrender of Roseau would have completed the operation.

  After landing his troops, Missiessy could too, have sailed his squadron round to the west coast and, when they made their assault, have assisted them in a swift capture of the place by bombarding the fort and town. But the Admiral, confident that the broadsides of his ships would swiftly cause the British flag to be hauled down, elected to rely on a frontal assault.

  That the garrison had been taken by surprise there could be no doubt as, but for the firing of a single alarm gun, nearly a quarter of an hour elapsed before the fort began to reply to its bombardment by the French. But once the British gunners got into action their fire soon began to tell. Not only were they better trained and reloaded their pieces more swiftly, but they had the advantage always enjoyed by shore batteries engaging ships. Their cannons were on a firm base, whereas those in the ships were in constant motion owing to the swell of the sea. In consequence, the shooting of the British was much more accurate. Soon the French squadron was taking heavy punishment. Cannon balls smashed great holes in the sides of the ships, ploughed through the soldiers massed on their decks and brought down spars and masts.

  Roger could not escape the obligation to stand on the poop of the flag-ship near the Admiral and his staff. As the battle raged the palms of his hands became damp and he felt goose pimples on his skin from fear that at any moment a cannon ball might cut him in half. Then, to his great relief, soon after ten o'clock, it became so obvious to Missiessy that he was getting by far the worse of the engagement that he had a signal hoisted breaking off the action.

  A quarter of an hour later the squadron was out of range of the fort and heading up the coast. In a quiet bay some miles north of Roseau the ships dropped anchor and lay there for two days while the dead were consigned to the sea and the damage that had been done to the ships was, as far as possible, repaired.

  On the day following the assault Missiessy called his Cap­tains aboard the flag-ship for a Council of War, at which Roger and other senior Army officers were present. The general opinion was that now the garrison at Roseau had been alerted and shown itself capable of putting up such a stout resistance there could be no hope of taking the island. It was then decided to sail north and see if they would meet with better fortune at Montserrat, Nevis and St. Kitts.

  Had the French succeeded in taking Dominica Roger would then have been faced with the problem of getting from there to the exit of the Windward Passage where 'Enterprise' had been lost; which meant a voyage of twelve hundred miles across the Caribbean west of the are of islands that enclosed that sea, and he had already planned how to set about it.

  Now he had to think again, but he soon decided what to do. As he was only a passenger and not under Missiessy's orders he went to the Admiral after the Council of War, and said, 'Since there is to be no further attempt to take Dominica, sir, it is pointless for me to remain in the West Indies and the Emperor will expect mc to return to France as soon as possible. The speediest way for mc to do so would be to get a ship from Guadeloupe, so I should be grateful if you would have mc put ashore at Pointe-a-Pitre.'

  Guadeloupe was the next island northwards in the chain from Dominica and the squadron had to pass it on its way to Montserrat, so.Roger's request presented no difficulty. Two days later he said good-bye to his companions on the terrible Atlantic crossing and was landed at Pointe-a-Pitre.

  There Roger had no fear of being recognized as Mr. Brook, as Guadeloupe was the only French-owned island in the Caribbean that had never been taken by the British. The Governor made him welcome as one of the Emperor's A.D.C.s and. eager to hear all about Napoleon's Imperial Court, said that he must be his guest at the Residency until he could get a ship. Roger thanked him and. now that Missiessy was out of the way, enquired, not for one to take him back to France, but one bound for San Domingo.

  On account of his health he was not expected back in France until the early summer; so now he would sav that he had
employed his time by visiting several French islands in order to be able to report upon conditions in them.

  If, haunted as he was by the nagging fear that Georgina had been sold into a brothel, it was unlikely that she would have been taken so far from the place where she had been captured as Guadeloupe. Nevertheless, during Roper's «'av of six days on the island, on the excuse of amusing himself after a long voyage, he visited all the haunts of vice in Pointe-a-Pitre, and paid the 'Madams' handsomely to produce all their girls for his inspection, having said that he was searching for one girl in particular whom he had known on a previous visit to the West Indies.

  The majority of the girls in the less expensive houses were Caribs or of mixed blood; but in the better ones more than half of them were French with here and there Spanish, Dutch and English trollops. Sonic of them had previously served in houses in other islands and these, having stood them wine, Roger closely questioned; but none of them could recall having known a woman at all resembling Roger's description of Georgina.

  On March 10th he went aboard the ship that was to take him on the eleven hundred mile run north-west across the Caribbean. The winds proved fairly favourable and for day after day, now brown as a berry, he lay on deck shaded by a sail from the blazing sun, reading or idly watching the flying fish skim the blue water. It was April 2nd when they docked at Port-au-Prince, and there he paid only a formal call on the Governor, courteously refusing his offer of hospitality with the explanation that he meant to spend only long enough in the capital to hire a small sea-going craft in which he intended to sail up the coast.

  This left him free to explore the vice haunts of the city; but after three days he had met with no success in his quest for news of Georgina. Meanwhile he had chartered a ketch owned by a grizzle-haired quadroon named Charbon. who knew those waters well. The crew were mulattos; one of them called Pepe Pcpe being a half-caste Spaniard who could act as an interpreter in Cuba. On the 5th he sailed across the southern end of the Windward passage for Santiago dc Cuba, arriving there on the 10th.