Flashman and the Emperor

by Robert Brightwell

  A few moments later and Cochrane and I stared at each other in astonishment. “It must be the Portuguese fleet here at last,” he concluded. It was the only plausible explanation as the Brazilian ships were still scattered all over the Atlantic, chasing vessels to Lisbon or escorting them to friendly ports. The Emperor was still anchored just off the town.

  “Are you leaving the flagship where it is?” I asked. “If the Portuguese get close enough to attack, we would be able to fire on them from the fort.”

  “No,” said Cochrane. “Our strength lies in our mobility and speed. I will leave some sailors in the fort, but we will weigh anchor and at least show ourselves in the river mouth.” He looked me in the eye and continued. “I need you, old friend, to stay here. Leave ten reliable men to guard the residence and ensure that the emperor’s flag continues to fly from the rooftop. Then march the rest to the gun emplacement at the end of the peninsula. Keep the emperor’s flag flying there too; we need their fleet to see it so that they know the port is taken. But if they get close open fire to show we are ready for them.”

  “Hang on,” I protested, not at all keen on the idea of being left stranded ashore while Cochrane put to sea. Apart from the risk of the Portuguese landing troops on the coast, there was Delgardo and other Portuguese supporters among the townsfolk who could also strike if they saw the opportunity. “If we let their ships get close enough to see the flags flying over the city the people here will see the Portuguese flag flying over their ships too. They will know then that they have been tricked.”

  “Well that cannot be helped,” said Cochrane, brushing my objection aside. “Just do what you can to keep a lid on things until I get back.” With that he was gone and I was hurriedly left to make my own arrangements.

  I left Mallee and ten marines to guard the residence and took the rest hurriedly up the track to the gun emplacement closest to the sea. The streets were busy with people, some heading in the same direction as us to see the ships. Other groups, particularly women, were heading the other way to hide in the countryside to avoid the marauding bands of murderers and rapists that they thought were fast approaching. Judging from the noise coming from the surrounding streets, yet more were busy hammering planks over windows and doorways to provide some protection from the anticipated human storm to come.

  It was fifteen miles up the coast to the gun emplacement, a good morning’s march for hardened troops. It was hard going for my marines, who were not used to marching such distances. I had requisitioned a horse, but after a few miles my thighs were aching too after so long out of the saddle. Without Mallee, it was hard to force the men along at a brisk pace. I promoted the big marine to corporal as he seemed to command the most authority amongst them. I had often seen Mallee and the big man together, they seemed close friends, but even he struggled to keep their pace up.

  I was desperate to see how much of the Portuguese fleet was offshore. If it was the entire naval squadron and all the troopships then we were in trouble as they were almost certain to force a landing. My marines and a few sailors would not stop them. I had thought of galloping up the path ahead of my men, but I wanted to keep the horse fresh in case a precipitate retreat was required. I was damned if I knew where I would retreat to, though, with the Emperor putting to sea. After the tales of terror we had spread, we would do well not to be lynched if we were abandoned in the city. It was with a pang of anxiety that I saw the big flagship go down the river and past us towards the sea. The winds were light and once more Cochrane was using the tide to take his ship where he wanted to go.

  By noon we were still three miles short of our destination and my little column was stopping to fill their flasks at a well. I could bear it no longer and so, ordering them to follow as quickly as they could, I galloped off alone down the track. At least there was no sound of gunfire, I thought, as I pressed over the final ridge to get my first view of the open sea.

  There were three ships, around four miles offshore. As best as I could judge, one was a frigate and the other two were troopships, but at that distance it was hard to be sure.

  “They have been patrolin’ up and down for the last few hours,” called a voice. I turned and saw four of the Emperor’s sailors sitting in the shade of a tree. They had been stationed there as look-outs and to man several ancient cannon that pointed out to sea above a nearby wall.

  “Have you tried firing at them?” I asked.

  “Nah, they haven’t got close enough for that. They would barely see the splash if we fired at them from this range.” I studied them with my glass but they still were too far away for me to make out a flag. I looked up at the flagstaff near our guns and realised that the light wind from the east would not make it easy for the ships to see the Brazilian pennant either. If they had been expecting the Don Miguel to sail out and welcome them, they were to be disappointed, for to my left I could see the tide pulling the Emperor out into open water. The Portuguese ships must have seen her, but maintained their position as they studied the shore. Were they an advance party for the rest of the fleet? I wondered. But scanning the horizon in all directions with my glass, I could not see the masts of any more ships approaching. Canvas was now appearing on the yardarms of the flagship as it began to tack south-east to get close to the intruders.

  Still the Portuguese ships remained on their patrolling line. They must have recognised the flagship by now – they had seen enough of her on the way here. The fact that she had sailed undamaged and without being fired upon from the fortifications of São Luis was a clear indication that the city, and hence the province, had fallen to the emperor. Perhaps they could not believe their eyes; this was to have been their redoubt on the continent from where they would retake the country. They knew we had no soldiers to speak of and that a thousand Portuguese troops had been here. It must have seemed impossible that the place had fallen to us. They knew of Cochrane’s reputation and were perhaps wondering if this was a trick and that the garrison remained up the river.

  “Fire a one-gun salute to the flagship,” I ordered the sailors. A few moments later the thumping sound of a large cannon boomed across the water. I watched Cochrane through the glass, he was staring back at me and then along the coast as though he thought I was warning him of something. “Dip the flag in salute as well,” I ordered, exasperated that he did not understand what I was doing. At last the penny must have dropped as Cochrane ordered the salute returned from the flagship and his pennant dipped in response. While they may not have been able to see the flags, the Portuguese would have heard the guns. It was the clearest indication possible that men manning the shore guns in São Luis were for the Brazilian cause. A few minutes later, as the Emperor began to pick up speed, the Portuguese ships shifted their helm onto a south-easterly heading. Presumably, this would take them back to the main fleet. There was no way that they could allow our powerful flagship to get to windward of them.

  Cochrane patrolled off shore for the rest of the day, with men aloft to watch for any more approaching ships and to check that the ones we had seen did not double back to the shore. My marines arrived an hour after I did, moaning about the long march in the heat and throwing themselves down in the shade.

  “You should have seen the soldiers march at Assaye,” I cajoled them. “Over twenty miles in the burning Indian sun and then winning a battle against odds of ten to one.”

  The big marine, his name was Joshua, glanced up and asked, “Did you fight there?”

  “I did,” I confirmed, neglecting to mention that for most of the battle I had been a prisoner. He seemed impressed with my military prowess, even though that battle had happened twenty years before.

  We stayed there for the rest of the day. In the evening the Emperor sailed slowly past us as it headed back to the city, but I kept my men where they were. They did not seem ready for another fifteen-mile march and in those parts, it gets dark quickly. In any event, I was not yet convinced that the Portuguese had gone away for good or that more would not arri
ve. I planned to stay there until dawn the next day. Having ensured that the horizon remained clear of enemy shipping, only then would we return to the city.

  Chapter 34

  “The admiral ’as been murdered,” the sailor gasped. I stared at the man, unable to fully comprehend what he was telling me. I was tired after a poor night’s sleep on the sand and a long ride back to the town. We were walking down one of the streets to the residence, when we had found one of the Emperor’s British sailors running wild-eyed towards us. He took a deep breath to calm himself and tried to explain further. “They’re all dead,” he continued. “Your soldiers and some others; there is blood everywhere.”

  “Did you see the admiral’s body?” I asked, my mind slowly catching up with events as my marines crowded up to hear what was going on.

  “No, I did not go into the house, not after I saw the bodies.” The sailor held up a slip of paper and added, “But he was in there. Cap’n Crosbie sent me with this note for ’im.”

  I glanced at the message: it was a warning to Cochrane that a gang of men could be seen entering one of the warehouses he was using to secure seized goods. It asked if we were back to deal with it. But before I could add any more, the big marine, Joshua, was up at my shoulder.

  “They have killed our men?” he growled. Then without waiting for a reply he yelled to the others to follow him and started to charge down the street towards the residence.

  “Come back!” I shouted after them but they took no notice. For men who had been claiming to be weary after a long march, they were finding a surprising amount of strength as they ran off yelling what they would do to the murderers when they found them.

  “Christ,” I muttered, half in despair. I desperately wanted to turn the horse and ride for the dock and a boat for the ship, but heaven knew what cut-throats were now roaming the city and where they might be. The message had indicated that the villains were already in the warehouses and if they had killed Cochrane, they would not hesitate to kill me. I turned to the sailor. “Tell Crosbie to clear the docks, open fire on them with the Emperor if he has to. Then he should send some men to the governor’s residence. My men will try to re-take the place or fight our way back to the ship.” The sailor was gone in a moment, the sound of his boots echoing off the alley walls. I was left alone in a hostile city, with an enraged band of armed ex-slaves, as my only hope for safety.

  “Hold up, you mad bastards,” I yelled as I wheeled the horse across the front of my charging command. Their blood was up now, no error, and several of them hefted their muskets at me as I tried to stop their progress.

  “Get out of the way,” shouted Joshua, no sign of any deference now. “They are going to pay for what they did.”

  “They will pay more if you do not go in like a pack of dogs, howling to announce you are coming. You need to catch them by surprise, kill as many as you can before they even know you are there.” The weapons dropped at that, as even the dimmest marine could see the sense of what I said. I was rewarded with several grinning faces as they understood that instead of stopping them, I was helping them. I could, of course, have added that a more cautious approach would give us the time to assess what we were up against and provide me with the opportunity to slip away if the odds were overwhelming. But there was no need for them to know that. And anyway, I did want my revenge; not only for the death of my men but also for the killing of one of my oldest friends. After all he had done in a long and glorious career, he did not deserve a death like that, stabbed by some paid assassin for a warehouse full of prize cargo.

  I got down from my horse. “Now check your muskets are loaded and primed,” I ordered, taking back command of my charge. “If we are going to do this, we are going to do it properly.” I pulled out the Collier and checked that there was powder in the pan to fire the first load. I still could not believe the sudden turn of events. There was no sound of rioting or shooting in the city, in fact it seemed more peaceful than when we had last been there. Surely Cochrane could not be dead. The sailor had to have been mistaken.

  I led my band on, silent now, with orders to stay that way and to kill any enemies we came across as quietly as possible. We emerged from an alley to find the side wall of the mansion compound in front of us. I led the way to the rear entrance. Any hope that the sailor had been mistaken were dispelled when we turned the corner to find a ladder leaning against the wall. It was obvious that the attackers had used it to enter the yard and attack the defenders from behind. I caught Joshua’s eye. Without a word, he nodded at one of the other soldiers and the pair of them padded quietly to the wall. A moment later and they were up the rungs and had dropped down silently on the other side. I listened for a few seconds for sounds that they had been discovered and then led the rest of my men on towards the gate. I could see that it was swung open and no one seemed on guard. Then there was a bird call from inside and one of the marines whispered that it was safe.

  We found the first body just inside the gate. It was one of the marines we had left behind the previous day. He had been garrotted from behind with a wire that was still half-embedded in his throat. He must have been guarding the back gate when they had crept up on him, and for good measure they had stabbed him in the chest too. There was a growl of anger from the men about me but I hushed them to silence and we crept down the side of the building. I peered cautiously in at each window that we passed, but no one was to be seen. The place was as quiet as a grave, an analogy that became stronger when we caught a view of the front yard. There were a dozen bodies scattered about, half of them my men and the rest intruders.

  You could easily imagine the course of the conflict: the two marines guarding the main gate, which was still shut, lay sprawled by the gateposts, with musket wounds in their chests. Their comrades must have come out of the house and had not died cheaply, judging by the other corpses sprawled around the entrance to the mansion. With my pistol cocked, I peered around the door of the building to find yet more carnage inside. A marine and three more of the villains lay in the contorted poses of the dead, while blood dripped from another marine lying at the turn in the stairs. His throat had been cut and they had left him bent over the banister so that his gore dripped steadily into a small lake of his blood on the planks below.

  My men crowded in behind me, the noise of boots clattering on the wooden floor. They started to fan out into the rooms on either side, but stopped as we heard something scrape on the floor above. We had clearly lost the element of surprise, but at least now we knew where they were. I was damned if I was going to lose any more men in some death or glory charge up the staircase.

  I turned to Joshua and whispered, “Get four men to stand at the corners outside to warn us if they try to make an escape through the windows.” Then I turned to the stairs and shouted, “We know where you are. Come down now with your hands in the air or we will burn you out like the vermin you are.”

  There was a louder scraping noise as some furniture was moved on the floor above our heads. Then a voice I thought I would never hear again called out. “Who the devil is that? Flashman, is that you?”

  I was up the stairs in a handful of bounds. There, I found a grinning Cochrane, one hand in a bloody bandage, pulling back a toppled wardrobe that he had been using to make barricade. On it I noticed, were half a dozen muskets and a pair of pistols, to give anyone charging up the stairs a tough time. “By the saints, what has happened here?” I asked. “God, I am pleased to see you. We were told you had been killed.”

  “I would have been but for your men – they put up a hell of a fight.” He gestured over his shoulder and there I saw Mallee, slumped against the wall and bleeding from a wound to his shoulder. “Fought like a tiger, that one,” Cochrane continued. “He accounted for two of them after he had been shot.” He gestured at the barricade. “We were not sure if more were coming or if there were others roaming the streets. Your man was in no state to travel and so I decided we would defend ourselves here and wait for help.”
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  “Crosbie should be sending some sailors to help us shortly,” I told the admiral. “Unless you want to retreat back to the ship?” I suggested. “The streets are quiet and we could carry Mallee.”

  “To hell with that,” Cochrane retorted firmly. “I am not being chased out by a gang of murdering ruffians. I am the emperor’s agent here and this province will stay under his control.”

  I stared across at Mallee. The big marine was kneeling at his side, whispering to his friend, probably about what we had found outside. “Joshua,” I called. “You are acting sergeant now. Station two men on each side of the building in the upper windows to cover the walls and gates. We are not going to be caught out again. Two more at the front gates to show we are still in charge and the rest can start tidying this place up.” I turned back to Cochrane. “I’ll wager this was Delgardo. We should find the bastard and string him up.”

  “No,” said Cochrane with unexpected vehemence. “We must show the people the benefits of democracy, I will have no mob rule here. If we can prove it is him, then he should be tried in court and judged by a jury of his fellow citizens.”

  Joshua seemed set to protest, but I shook my head at him over the admiral’s shoulder and after a moment’s hesitation, he began to organise the marines as I had ordered. I knew that there was no point trying to argue Cochrane out of his political principles. He had a certain naivety shared by many with such radical views. They ignore the corruption, greed and other vices of their fellow man and assume that most will share their high morals. Well I for one didn’t and I was going to make sure that Delgardo got what was coming to him, but that could wait. I went over and sat beside Mallee.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “I have been better,” he replied before nodding at Cochrane. “He saved my life.”

  “He does that,” I told him. We watched as the admiral strolled back to his study, apparently satisfied that all was under control. “Do you remember when you told me that you wanted to change this country?” I asked quietly. “Well without you he would have been killed. You have kept Maranhão part of the empire.” I gripped his good shoulder and added, “Now wait here until we can get you to the surgeon.”