The last gendarme stopped and backed off. He raised his musket to his shoulder and aimed at Molineaux. The petty officer froze, helpless. A musket barked. The gendarme twisted sharply and crumpled against the railing.
Molineaux glanced down to where Endicott stood in the courtyard below, the muzzle of his musket wreathed with smoke. The petty officer waved his thanks, and then the half-strangled gendarme tried to grapple him. Molineaux rammed the muzzle of the musket he was still holding into the gendarme’s stomach. The Russian doubled up in agony, and Molineaux pushed him over the rail with minimal effort.
‘Nice work, Molineaux!’ Killigrew called up. ‘Look to Todd and the cox’n!’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’ Keeping one eye on the door at the far end, Molineaux ran along the gallery to where Bullivant’s steward had fallen. He crouched over him for a moment, and then stood up and continued the rest of the way around to where Vowles lay.
Killigrew and the two ladies had almost finished hitching the team of horses to the second telezhka. ‘Captain Thornton! Would you be so good as to bring the others up from the dungeons?’ he asked.
With one of the unhitched telezhki now up against the door of the keep, Thornton nodded and ran across to the doorway leading down to the cellars. He gestured frantically for Charlton and Iles to bring up Dahlstedt, Lord Bullivant and the maid.
A gendarme clutching a musket tried to crawl out between the wheels of the telezhka up against the door of the keep. O’Leary snatched the gun from him, tossed it to Endicott, then grabbed the gendarme by the collar and dragged him out. He punched the Russian in the stomach, and kneed him in the face.
‘Sir!’ Molineaux was standing over Bowles at the far end of the gallery. ‘Andy and the steward have both slipped their cables, but I think Mr Mackenzie is still with us.’ He pointed down to where the Milenion’s mate sat at the foot of the keep immediately below him, nursing an injured arm.
‘Mr Charlton, look to Mr Mackenzie,’ ordered Killigrew.
The assistant surgeon nodded and ran across to where the mate lay, while Molineaux swung himself over the rail of the gallery and dropped down beside him. Iles came down the stairs from the gallery at the other end, followed by Uren and Attwood, supporting Searle, who had a bloody handkerchief pressed to the side of his throat. ‘Not much point us stayin’ up there, sir,’ said Iles.
Killigrew glanced up at the door leading into the round tower from the gallery and immediately saw what Iles meant: flames roared out of the doorway, hungrily searching for air. Indeed, the whole keep was ablaze now: if there were any more Russians left alive in there, they were not coming out that way.
‘Anything else I can do, sir?’ asked Iles.
‘Yes! Nip down to the dungeons and fetch a couple of lamps from the wall niches.’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’
As Iles hurried away, Killigrew turned to the Bullivants and their maid. ‘You’d best climb aboard, ladies.’
‘And who’s going to drive the carriages?’ asked Lady Bullivant.
‘Well, I thought I’d drive the first…’
‘And?’
He sighed. ‘Think you can drive one of these, Lady Bullivant?’
‘I can drive a pony-chaise.’
‘This is a little larger.’
‘As you said to me before, I’m afraid you don’t have much choice.’
‘Your logic is impeccable, ma’am. All right, you get on the driving board of that one. Help her up, Endicott. Leading Seaman Endicott will look after you, ma’am.’
‘Come on, missus.’ Endicott clasped his hands together before him to make a step-up for her. ‘Put your foot here and I’ll give you a bunk-up.’
‘Do you mind?’ she snapped back. ‘I’m Viscountess Bullivant: you address me as “my lady” or “ma’am”, not “missus”. I’ll have you know my ancestors came across from Normandy with William the Conqueror.’
‘Oh, aye?’ Endicott was singularly unimpressed. ‘Bloody immigrants, eh?’
Killigrew chuckled. ‘Molineaux?’
‘Sir?’
‘I’ll drive. Once we’re through the gateway, I want you to get the roof. Your job is to keep an eye on Lady Bullivant. If anything happens to her – if she falls so much as fifty feet behind us – you tell me at once, hoist in?’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’
Killigrew turned to Lady Bullivant’s maid. ‘What’s your name, miss?’
Terrified by the heat, smoke and bloodshed all around her, she curtsied in confusion. ‘Nicholls, sir.’
‘How do you feel about the sight of blood, Nicholls?’
‘Can’t say I’m over-partial to it, sir.’
‘Do you think you could help Mr Charlton with the wounded?’
‘I’ll try, sir.’
‘It’s all right, Nicholls.’ Smiling, Araminta took the maid’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. ‘I’ll help you.’
‘God bless you, miss,’ said Killigrew. ‘You’d best climb up now. You too, my lord.’
‘I just want you to know this is an absolute shambles,’ snorted Bullivant. ‘You’re a disgrace, Killigrew, an utter disgrace.’
‘Feel free to write a formal complaint to Sir Charles Napier if we manage to get out of here alive,’ Killigrew told him cheerfully. ‘Mr Charlton! Could you bring the wounded over here? Do what you can for them on the drive back to Ekenäs.’
The assistant surgeon ran his fingers through his hair in agitation. ‘Sir, I’ve got one man bleeding like a stuck pig, another with shattered hands and a third with a compound fracture of the left forearm. May I ask what you expect me to do without surgical tools or bandages while I’m being bounced about in the back of one of these damned filthy carriages?’
‘Improvise, Mr Charlton. That’s what the navy’s best at.’ As Iles arrived with two oil-lamps, Killigrew took one from him and handed it to the assistant surgeon. ‘You may need this.’
Charlton took the oil-lamp and stared at it, shaking his head.
‘What ’bout this’n, sir?’ asked Iles, holding up the other.
‘Back of the other carriage. Once we’ve cleared the gate I want you on the roof, keeping a lookout for pursuers.’ Killigrew took up a musket from a dead Russian and handed it to the seaman. ‘You see them coming, signal Molineaux, who’ll be on the roof of my carriage.’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’
‘The rest of you, grab all the muskets and cartouche boxes you can and get in the back of the other carriage!’ Killigrew shouted to the men who still milled about in the courtyard. ‘I want them loaded and primed by the time we get to Ekenäs. No, not you, Hughes. You can ride in front with me.’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’
Killigrew strode across to where Thornton and O’Leary had left Kizheh bound hand and foot. He hauled the lieutenant to his feet and pulled off his gag.
‘You really think you’re going to get away with this?’ demanded Kizheh.
‘See for yourself, if you don’t believe me. You’re coming with us. You do know the way back to Ekenäs, don’t you?’
Kizheh sneered. ‘Hum it, and I’ll join in on the second chorus.’
‘Musket, Hughes!’
The Welshman threw his musket across to Killigrew, who levelled it at Kizheh’s head.
The lieutenant sneered again. ‘You’re not going to shoot me.’
‘No?’
‘If I’m dead, who’ll show you the way to Ekenäs?’
‘If you refuse to help us, you’re not much use to me, so I might as well shoot you. But no one said anything about killing you. Where’s the nearest surgeon?’
Kizheh grinned. ‘Ekenäs.’
‘Thought so.’ Killigrew lowered his aim and shot him through the foot.
‘Chert!’ Sobbing in agony, Kizheh hopped up and down, clutching his wounded foot as blood dripped from the hole in his boot.
‘Now you will show us the way to Ekenäs?’
‘You… you drachevo!’
‘To tell the tr
uth, there always was some question as to whether or not my parents ever actually married, not that it’s any of your business. Help him up on the driving board, Hughes. If he gives you any trouble, feel free to hurt him.’
‘Just so long as he can still show us the way to Ekenäs, sir?’
‘Precisely so.’ Killigrew looked around to make sure no one was being left behind, and crossed to where Lady Bullivant and Endicott sat on the driving board of the other telezhka.
‘Follow me,’ he told Lady Bullivant, ‘and don’t stop for anything. If you get into difficulties, Molineaux will be watching you; he’ll let me know. Ready?’
She nodded.
‘Let’s go.’ Killigrew crossed back to the other telezhka and climbed up on to the driving board so that Kizheh was wedged between him and Hughes. The commander lashed the reins across the horses’ backs, and drove out through the gateway. On the bridge beyond, he reined in long enough for Molineaux to scramble up on the roof. They then rumbled across the wooden bridge, pausing on the other side until Molineaux reported that Iles was on the second telezhka. Killigrew drove on.
Beyond the bridge, they came to a fork in the road. ‘Left or right?’ Killigrew asked Kizheh.
‘Left.’
‘You quite sure about that, Ivan?’ asked Hughes, pressing the muzzle of his musket to Kizheh’s ear.
‘Yes! Left, left!’
‘It took us about three-quarters of an hour to get here from Ekenäs this afternoon.’ Killigrew fumbled in Kizheh’s fob pocket for his watch, and glanced at it. ‘If we don’t get there by ten o’clock, Hughes is going to shoot you in the other foot. If we’re not there by quarter past, he’ll start on your kneecaps. Do you understand?’
Kizheh hung his head. ‘Right,’ he muttered sullenly.
Killigrew whipped up the horses, and turned right.
Hughes grinned. ‘Looks like we’ve got ourselves a pilot, sir.’
Chapter 10
The Milenion
8.55 p.m.–10.05 p.m., Thursday 17 August
It was dark by the time the second cutter reached Ekenäs. Even at dusk, the gunners in the battery at Vitsand Sound had had no difficulty in spying the white flag flown by the cutter, and Lieutenant Masterson had no reason to suspect that anything different had happened when Killigrew had passed this way with the first cutter twelve hours earlier.
A section of Russian infantrymen awaited the cutter’s crew when they tied up at one of the jetties. Using French, Masterson was able to convey to the young officer in charge of the soldiers that he wished to speak to the district commander.
‘You may come alone and unarmed. Your men will have to wait here.’
Masterson nodded and turned back to the men in the cutter. ‘Got your watch, Mr Saunders?’
The midshipman who had accompanied him nodded. Masterson checked his own watch. ‘It’s now two minutes to nine precisely. If I’m not back within an hour, try to slip away and get back to the Ramillies, tell the captain what’s happened.’
‘Yes, sir. Sir…?’
‘Yes, Mr Saunders?’
‘What has happened, sir?’
Masterson glanced around the harbour. There was the Milenion, tied up at the quayside a short distance away, but there was no sign of the first cutter. ‘Damned if I know,’ he admitted ruefully.
He was escorted through the streets of Ekenäs to the town hall, where he was made to wait in an annexe with two soldiers standing over him. A clerk sat at a desk, stamping papers. As the minutes ticked past, he watched the clock on the mantelpiece reach quarter-past nine, then half-past. Finally, he heard a carriage pull up on the cobbles outside and presently a man in a sky-blue uniform marched in. The clerk leaped to his feet to salute, and said something in Russian with a nod at Masterson, who also stood up.
The newcomer looked the lieutenant up and down. ‘You came here under a flag of truce?’ he asked in excellent English.
Masterson nodded. ‘Lieutenant Matthew Masterson, HMS Ramillies. You are the military commander of this district?’
The newcomer proffered a kid-gloved hand. ‘Colonel Radimir Fokavich Nekrasoff, at your service. Please come with me.’ He stepped through a door and held it open for Masterson to follow. ‘Do take a seat, Mr Masterson,’ he said, gesturing to a chair in front of the desk in the office.
Masterson sat down and crossed one leg over the other with a display of nonchalance he was far from feeling. ‘I had been given to understand that Lieutenant-General Ramsay was the military governor?’
Smiling, Nekrasoff moved to sit behind the desk. ‘General Ramsay is away from headquarters at the moment, on a routine inspection of troops at Karis. May I be of assistance?’
‘We’ll see,’ Masterson replied drily. There was something about Nekrasoff that set his teeth on edge, and he instantly distrusted the man. ‘The yacht tied up in the harbour…’
‘Ah, the Milenion. I should have guessed. You must understand that Captain-Lieutenant Count Pechorin captured her as a legitimate prize of war. I should not need to tell you that the merchant ships of an enemy power are fair game, as the depredations of your own navy against this very town have shown. I do not see that the rules of war should apply any differently to a civilian yacht.’
‘No one in the British navy would dispute that, Colonel. However, I have been instructed to inform you that Vice Admiral Sir Charles Napier is willing to exchange General Bodisco for Lord Bullivant and his family.’
‘I regret to inform you, it is impossible.’
‘Impossible? Why? It seems a more than fair exchange to me: a senior-ranking prisoner of war for four civilians.’
‘Civilians.’ Nekrasoff chuckled, and produced a cigarette case, snapping it open and proffering it to Masterson. ‘Cigarette?’
‘No, thank you.’
Nekrasoff shrugged, took out a cigarette, and snapped the case shut. He tapped the cigarette against it twice before putting the cigarette in his mouth and returning the case to an inside pocket. He struck a match to light the cigarette, and shook it out before dropping it in the ashtray on the desk. He took a drag and blew a long stream of smoke into the air above Masterson’s head.
‘Lord Bullivant and his family were arrested on Russian territory. Lord Dallaway was taking photographical pictures. In the chart-room of the Milenion were found charts of Russian territorial waters. More than enough to convict Lord Bullivant and Lord Dallaway on charges of espionage, I would have thought.’
Masterson laughed. ‘Surely you can’t suspect they’re spies? All right, they may have acted foolishly. They’re what we call “war tourists”, the fleet’s plagued by them, and if they’ve got into trouble it’s their own damned fault. But to execute them for espionage? Isn’t that going a little too far?’
‘It is not for me to say, Mr Masterson. The orders have come direct from St Petersburg; my hands are tied. If General Ramsay were here, he would give you the same answer.’
Masterson sighed. He was obviously wasting his time.
‘I am sorry to have to send you back to your ship empty-handed, as it were,’ said Nekrasoff.
‘There is one other thing,’ said Masterson. ‘Mine isn’t the first boat to be sent to negotiate the release of the Bullivants. Commander Christopher Killigrew was sent earlier today, in another cutter. He would have passed Vitsand Sound at about nine o’clock this morning?’
Nekrasoff frowned. ‘There was a boat that tried to slip past the battery at nine o’clock, rowed by seamen of the British navy. One of the bodies subsequently dragged from the water was found to be wearing the uniform of a British naval officer-—’
Masterson’s blood ran cold. ‘What do you mean, “dragged from the water”…?’
Nekrasoff looked surprised. ‘Well, naturally the battery opened fire as soon as the boat was within range. There were no survivors.’
The lieutenant leaped to his feet. ‘Do you mean to tell me that your gunners opened fire on a boat flying a flag of truce?’
&n
bsp; ‘Calm yourself, Mr Masterson! I heard nothing about any flag of truce. Indeed, that was my first thought when I heard that a boat had attempted to enter the inlet this morning. But I’ve spoken to the commander of the battery on the subject and he swears on his mother’s soul that the boat flew no such flag.’
‘Then the battery commander is a liar, Colonel. I watched the cutter leave the Ramillies at eight this morning, and I can assure you that she was flying a white flag plainly enough.’
‘Then perhaps the officer in command took it down before he reached Vitsand Sound? What sort of man was he, Mr Masterson? A daring, reckless fellow? Perhaps he thought he and his crew could rescue the Bullivants without negotiating?’
Masterson frowned. Killigrew certainly had a reputation for being reckless and daring. But surely even he would not be so foolish as to disobey orders in the way that Nekrasoff suggested? He shook his head: reckless, perhaps, but not stupid; and only a stupid man would try to row past a battery of guns at point-blank range in broad daylight without a flag of truce flying.
‘I’d like to see the bodies of any of the cutter’s crew that may have been recovered.’
‘That is not convenient at this time. Rest assured, Mr Masterson, the bodies of any officers that are recovered will be returned to your navy at the earliest convenience.’ Nekrasoff rose to his feet and gestured to the door. ‘Now, unless there was anything else…?’
Masterson was escorted back to where the second cutter was tied up. ‘Any news of Mr Killigrew, sir?’ asked Saunders.
The lieutenant shook his head and climbed down to take his place in the stern sheets. ‘Cast off. Back to the Ramillies, lads.’
* * *
Hughes was toying hopefully with the trigger of the musket when the first houses at the edge of Ekenäs came into view a few minutes before ten o’clock.
‘Which way to the surgeon’s house?’ Killigrew asked Kizheh.
‘Take the next left.’ Kizheh’s face was screwed up in agony as he clutched his wounded foot. ‘Now right… it’s the last house on the left.’
Killigrew’s Run Page 20