“I hope, sir, that Captain Delancey will be able to thank you in person after Langara has been defeated.”
“I hardly know whether I shall meet that young officer. Be so good, therefore, as to give him this message from me: ‘If he continues to serve with the devotion and resolution he now displays he should some day reach high rank in the navy.’ There is too much reason to apprehend, however, that he is dead by now. Should he have survived, however, and should he return from his present hazardous enterprise, I predict for him an outstanding career. Tell him that, Mr Carter, and convey to him my thanks and good wishes.”
An hour later there arrived on board the Marguerite a character called José Alvarez of Trinidad, an ordinary seaman from the Ajax. Spanish was certainly his first language but his grasp of English was quite sufficient for all ordinary purposes. He had been given some idea of what was wanted and made no difficulties about going ashore in Spain. All he wanted in return for this service was a discharge from the navy Of life on the lower deck he had plainly had enough! Once on land, he confessed, he meant to stay there.
The Dove parted company from Rear-Admiral Griffin’s squadron that evening and began a cautious night approach to the fishing village of Léon. The frigate Medusa kept just within sight, ready to rescue the lugger in case of need. Delancey could not as yet have reached the rendezvous but Sam Carter wanted, first of all, to establish himself locally in the character of smuggler, a process essential to the rescue. His one fear was that José Alvarez, when landed, would vanish for good. He sent for him and explained that a fortune was to be made in smuggling and that it was now José’s opportunity to set himself up as a contraband agent in Léon. Were he to settle there, Sam insisted, smugglers from Guernsey and Alderney would call at regular intervals and land goods which were unobtainable in Spain. In cooperation with Davila, it would be the agent’s task to warehouse the goods for England and distribute the cargoes landed at Léon. He and Davila would need, of course, to maintain a friendly relationship with the local authorities. There would be hard work at first and even, quite possibly, some moments of anxiety, but José Alvarez would end as a reputable and wealthy merchant, a better fate than becoming a mere stevedore and far better than joining the ranks of the unemployed.
Alvarez was suspicious at first and slow to convince. He had to hear each explanation at least three times, responding each time with the same objections. He agreed at last when Sam hinted that he would have a bad time at sea if he was known to have refused this opportunity.
Sam doubted, in fact, whether Alvarez had enough business experience to fill the agent’s role. He had never, apparently, been more than a ship chandler’s clerk at Port of Spain. He was at least literate, however, and able to do simple arithmetic and the opportunity was there for someone. Alvarez was thus given a motive for keeping in touch with the Dove. He would not simply vanish (Sam hoped) but would spy out the land and report progress through the channels of communication which Sam meant to set up. After studying the chart Sam had decided to land Alvarez at a point just south of Léon and to do this just before dawn. He would then sail on southwards and return the following night. If all were safe, Alvarez would make a signal to that effect and the Dove would enter the harbour. This would be on the l4th September, the day previous to that chosen for the first rendezvous with Delancey. There was no prearranged plan for making contact but it was obvious that Delancey would recognize the Dove if she were there and inquire after her if she were not. Sam had come away from the interview with Admiral Griffin in a mood of stern resolve, feeling that he was present at a possibly historic scene. If there was any chance of bringing Delancey safely away he resolved that it should be and must be done.
Alvarez was landed by boat on a rocky shore before dawn on the 13th September. It was nearly calm, luckily, or the landing might have been hazardous. Then the Dove sailed slowly on, with the frigate shadowing her from a distance. On her return the following night there was a light signal from the point at which Alvarez had landed and Sam sent the boat in again. Alvarez told Mr Evans that he’d made contact with Señor Davila, that there was no garrison at Léon and that the local Spaniards were eager to do business. Some bribes would have to be paid to customs officers and police but there would be no real difficulty The Dove, under French colours, could safely enter harbour on the morning’s tide. This decided Sam’s policy but gave a new urgency to the problem that had been on his mind: what to do with his two French prisoners. He decided to tell them frankly what was worrying him:
“I realize, gentlemen, that you want to return to duty. It is right that you should do so and I have no wish to hold you as prisoners. On the other hand, you will have to account for your absence and will have to describe how you came to be captured, what treatment you have received and how you were freed or else came to escape. I cannot take you into Cadiz, despite anything I may have said about it. Tell me what you think I should do.”
Jean Berthier must have been expecting this question for he eventually produced his own solution. Let the two of them escape and they would swear to report that the Dove had gone on to the Mediterranean. The success of this scheme would depend upon their falling in with a local craft bound for Cadiz. Sam accepted this idea, ordering his men to keep a sharp look-out for a boat that would serve the purpose. He also arranged with the captain of the Medusa that twice lowering the tricolour on board the Dove should be the signal for the frigate to give chase as if the Dove were hostile. When a suitable fishing vessel was sighted the Dove sailed to intercept her. When fairly alongside the heavily laden boat the Dove’s crew began a pantomime negotiation over the purchase of her catch. Since the lugger was under French colours the Spanish fishermen, numbering five, were treated as allies. While the bargaining took place Sam made the prearranged signal to the Medusa unseen by the Spaniards who were having linguistic difficulties. The negotiations, conducted on one side in Guernsey French, were being prolonged to the point of frustration.
So absorbed was everyone in the discussion that the approach of the Medusa from to windward was apparently unnoticed. The frigate finally fired a gun, which produced panic aboard the Dove. The attention of the crew, concentrated until now on the fishing boat, was suddenly transferred to the frigate. Incoherent orders were shouted, instructions were given and cancelled and there was a general tendency to collect, jabbering and pointing, on the windward side of the lugger. Apparently unnoticed in all this confusion, the two French officers scrambled furtively, baggage in hand, into the fishing boat, offering money and pointing to Cadiz. At the same moment, the Dove made all sail in her southward flight, another cannon shot spurring her crew into a frenzy of activity. The lugger held her own against the frigate for speed and the scene, from the point of view of the Spanish fishermen, was that of a French vessel escaping from the clumsy pursuit of the enemy. They hoisted sail and headed for Cadiz, well content to accept money for returning to their home port as they had anyway been intending to do.
At a suitable moment the Medusa gave up the chase and allowed the Dove to pursue her voyage to Léon. Her arrival was evidently expected for a boat came out to meet her with Alvarez on board. He was able to assure Sam Carter of his welcome to a berth alongside the port’s tiny breakwater. Davila and other local businessmen were delighted at the prospect of trade and contraband and the local authorities were not inclined to ask questions about the Dove’s precise port of origin. Alvarez, who seemed to be a better businessman than Sam had supposed him to be, was full of information about the place and about the imports which would be especially welcome there. The local merchants, it seemed, were more than ready to do business.
By the evening of 14th September, Sam Carter felt that his task was all but accomplished. His vessel was at the appointed rendezvous and was well received there. He had his appointed agent at Léon who was busy making himself known to the principal inhabitants. If Delancey were to arrive on the following day, as arranged, even as a fugitive and in disguise, Davila wou
ld hear of it immediately. Delancey would be able to embark at once and the Dove could sail with the next tide. If there was any difficulty or need for force, the Medusa was there in the background. If, finally, Delancey failed to appear, the Dove could remain where she was for another week or more. There was plenty of scope for negotiation and exchange of samples, every excuse for bargaining and gossip. The question was whether Delancey would actually keep the rendezvous. Sam had to confess that the odds were heavily against it.
There was, in fact, no sign of Delancey on the 15th of September, no news of his exploits or rumour of his approach. When midnight came, the end of the first appointed day, Sam came to the conclusion that his fears had been justified. Delancey had been killed or captured, most probably in France and just as any sensible man might have expected. If this were so, news might come of English spies arrested near San Sebastian. The faint possibility remained that Delancey was still making a dash for safety. If he were, and whether disguised as a gypsy or a priest, the Dove must be waiting for him. Meanwhile, Davila was hearing rumours from Cadiz. All the talk there along the waterside was that the Spanish fleet was about to sail. Stores were being shipped, crews were being exercised, ships were moving to new anchorages and all onlookers agreed that news of war might arrive any day. When news came, Langara would sail but whether heading north or south no one could say. Sam Carter settled down to wait.
Chapter Fourteen
A LEAN AND FOOLISH KNIGHT
COLONEL Diego de Altamirano sent for Delancey on the evening of the day after his arrest. He was escorted by the adjutant and four soldiers and found himself again in the commandant’s office. The conversation which followed was in French.
“Good morning, Captain. I hope you slept well. How good of you to spare time to see me! Do please sit down. I should like to have a little talk with you if that would suit your convenience. Remain with us, Pedro, but tell your men to wait outside.” The soldiers went but Pedro remained behind Delancey’s chair.
“Do you play chess, Captain?”
“No, Colonel. I am, however, a card player.”
“A good one, I have no doubt. So I need hardly tell you that the moves in many a game can be foreseen. We can, if we choose, go laboriously through the regular phases of the game, pawn by pawn or card by card. Among good players, however, it is the custom, as you know, to shorten the process by mutual agreement. The moment comes when a player will lay his cards on the table and say, ‘The remaining tricks are mine.’ Only a novice will object and insist upon finishing the game by the ordinary sequence of play. As we are neither of us new to the game I propose that we lay our cards on the table.” Delancey bowed but said nothing. So the colonel continued as one who assumes that agreement has been reached.
“I could at this moment send to Bayonne and ask Captain Baudin for the loan of his colleague, Lieutenant Michelet. He could have a talk with your friend who wears the sergeant’s uniform and the result would be his assurance that your sergeant knows nothing about the French army. He could have a talk with you and could tell me in five minutes that you speak French as a foreigner, that you are really English. I could, meanwhile, apply a little pressure to your other friends and one of them—I think the smaller of the two you left at the inn—would presently break down and tell me that your whole party was landed near Bayonne from an English man-of-war, that you had a skirmish with a courier and his escort, that you seized his coach and assumed your present disguise, that you had all been sent on a dangerous mission and one which might have succeeded had I been more of a drunkard or less of a soldier. I do not think that the two Englishmen could tell me more than this for that, I suspect, is all they know. I do not think that the two Frenchmen could tell me very much more; nor, for that matter, your one Spaniard with the colonial accent. The one point on which they would agree is that you are the leader and that you are an officer in the British navy, probably with the rank of captain. With a little trouble, with a little pressure, I could obtain so much information. May I assume that all this has been done? You see, I lay my cards on the table, saving time and saving your friends from—what shall I say?—discomfort.”
“It is a pleasure to deal with an officer of such distinction, intelligence and humanity. My cards, too, are on the table. I agree, Colonel, that you have won those tricks and am ready to assume that your conclusions are mainly correct.”
“I am so glad, Captain, that we have been able to reach agreement over the preliminary moves. It only remains for me to ask what your object was. Remember, please, that your mission has failed and that your answer is merely of historical interest. If the operation were continuing, if some of your associates were still at liberty, I would not expect to hear more from you. You would not betray your friends, least of all any Spaniards here that might be in your employ. I do not think, however, that you had any Spanish collaborators.”
“No, I did not.”
“No. We are still agreed. You had with you the personal documents, apparently genuine, of a French officer, Captain Laffray. These came, I assume, from the post-chaise you intercepted? Is that officer dead?”
“Yes, he is.”
“So I had supposed. Allow me to return now to the object of your mission. I am only interested to this extent that the information would round off my despatch. I wonder, sometimes, why I should report as carefully as I do—no one, I am convinced, will ever bother to read what I write—but I cannot rid myself of the habit. We staff officers are more concerned with documents than with facts, working as we do on a system which was invented, I believe, by King Philip II. I should be grateful, therefore, for your version of what you were trying to do.”
“I see no reason, Colonel, why you should not be told. I am here, as you have guessed, on a secret mission. I was to discover, if I could, the destination of the Spanish fleet. But we are not yet at war and war may still be averted. I should like, indeed, to do anything I can to improve relationships between Britain and Spain. It is the belief of some of us that you will be our allies again before long. When that day comes we would rather your fleet were intact and able to cooperate with ours. We do not wish to see your fleet destroyed in battle. We do not want to see Spain annexed by France. There is a great future, Colonel, for a Spanish officer who can foresee, even now, that Spain’s independence is in danger and that France, not England, is the country to fear.”
“An officer who said that too loudly would be relieved of his command—which reminds me to tell you that my adjutant here, an excellent officer, is wholly ignorant of the French language. You may think this a fortunate circumstance. However—to return to the point—I am in no position to discuss the wisdom of my king’s policy. Any such discussion would be most improper—and, I may add, most unwise.”
“Undoubtedly. But the sound plan is to prepare for two eventualities. The far-seeing officer says nothing now against the French revolutionaries. Should the situation change, however, he is already known as a true Spanish patriot, trusted as such by Spain’s new allies. You would be generously rewarded if you agreed to release me now.”
“You are inviting me to join you in a plot to prevent the alliance, already concluded, between France and Spain. There is nothing I can do to influence my country’s policy The risk is too great, my friend, and the reward too problematical.”
“The reward, Colonel, is certain. I learnt in conversation at the inn here that your family estate was lost through your father’s improvidence and that you are the eldest son. If you were on our side that estate could be yours again.”
“So you know about my family estate?”
“Only that your father had to sell it. Could you recover the estate if you had the money?”
“Oh, yes. If. . . . I believe that your offer is genuine. But I have no reason to believe that your government would make good any promise that you make on its behalf. Nor can I think of any reasonable excuse for releasing you.”
“On that last point, Colonel, let me set your mind
at rest. You will receive a letter from the French Directory informing you that I am in the French Secret Service. A minister will explain this in a personal letter sent to you and other garrison commanders. It is most unfortunate that the delivery of these letters should have been somewhat delayed.”
“A most extraordinary error! But such mistakes are made, as I know too well from my own experience. What I need is assurance that this letter will be good enough to deceive me and further assurance that your promise will be respected by your treasury. I can accept a gentleman’s word of honour but not a promise made by—still less for—a mere government. I shall do my best, however, to meet your wishes. You shall prepare this letter and I will decide whether to be deceived by it. The forgery must be perfect, you understand. If completely taken in, I shall release your companions, leaving them to their own devices, but you will remain here on parole, a hostage until I know that your government will respect the agreement we have made. Even then I shall be in doubt as to whether to accept your government’s promise—not an easy decision. However, there is no decision to make until I receive this letter from Paris. You shall at least have the chance to write it.”
“For that purpose I need all my companions and all our luggage.”
“Very well.” The Colonel rose now and spoke to his adjutant in Spanish:
“Have all the prisoners moved to Cell No 6. Provide them with a table and chairs, with paper, ink and sealing wax. Give them back their luggage but not their weapons. Lock the door and place two sentries outside. When this officer reports that their work is done, bring him back to see me.”
An hour later Delancey had his party together and round the table. Outside in the corridor could be heard the pacing of the sentries. Prominently placed inside the door was a recent copy of the prison’s printed regulations, signed by the adjutant and counter-signed by the commandant. The cell was double the normal size, being used perhaps for meetings between prisoners and their lawyers. There was a lantern on the table, which was necessary in the fading light, and their belongings were placed against the wall. Hodder went straight to his luggage when the door closed and reported that his skeleton keys were still in the false bottom of his leather travelling case.
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