Tarver's Treasure

by Malcolm Archibald

  They stood hip to hip as Lieutenant Cockburn shouted orders that saw the hands frantically reducing the canvas and then taking it in completely. As the Rowan eased to a halt, the anchor splashed into the depths, with the cable rumbling after. They had arrived.

  ‘Exactly eight weeks out from London,’ Jack said. Even as he looked around, more orders sent the crew of the captain’s gig pattering across the deck, while the small boat was already being lowered into the flat water of the harbour. The sun battered down on them, a warning of the summer that was to come.

  ‘Mr Tarver! Mrs Tarver!’ Lieutenant Cockburn doffed his hat and gave a low bow. ‘I apologise for the formality, but, as you see, we have arrived in Malta. Now, I fear, this pleasant voyage has come to an end and our ways must part.’ He replaced his hat and straightened it so the peak was on line with his slightly prominent nose. ‘As is the way with the service, things happen quickly.’ He smiled directly at Bethany. ‘I have taken the liberty to order that your dunnage be taken on deck and loaded onto the gig. If you would care to gather what is in your cabin, I will give you passage ashore.’

  ‘What, this minute, James? Lieutenant Cockburn?’ Bethany looked at the small boat that lay slowly rising and falling in the deep blue water. ‘With so little time to prepare?’

  ‘I fear so, Mrs Tarver. Did you see that string of flags that rose from the battlements of St Elmo Fort? It was a message from the Admiral, giving me orders,’ Lieutenant Cockburn explained. ‘We are not staying here for long. We are dropping off dispatches to the Admiral, taking on food and water, and then we are away again.’ He then flashed the confident grin that Jack found so irritating but which seemed to captivate Bethany. ‘It would appear that the King of the Two Sicilies needs the Rowan’s help.’

  Touching Bethany’s shoulder as a mark of ownership, Jack gave a formal bow. ‘Thank you, Lieutenant Cockburn. We shall be ready directly. Come, Bethany.’

  ‘Really, it’s too much,’ Bethany complained as she carefully packed all her cabin possessions into her single leather bag, while Jack did likewise. He glanced around the tiny space that had held their swinging hammocks; despite the memories, he would not miss the shipboard smells and sounds. It would be good to have a home that did not sway unpredictably, and where the ceiling was more than five feet high.

  ‘Lieutenant Cockburn could have given us more warning,’ Bethany continued, sweeping away the curl across her forehead. ‘He may well be the most dashing officer in the navy, Jack, but it appears he has little consideration for his passengers.’

  Quite happy to hear Bethany rebuking the confident Lieutenant Cockburn, Jack did not point out that, as a naval officer, he would have had no choice.

  With a last look around the cabin, he hurried Bethany up on deck, where the fierce heat nearly took his breath away. In their absence the seamen had been busy, raising their luggage out of the hold and stowing it in the gig. Lieutenant Cockburn had changed into full dress uniform, with prominent gold buttons and golden buckles on his shoes. He also appeared to have become more formal, as he bowed low and requested of them: ‘Pray make haste. The Admiral does not take kindly to tardy officers.’

  Even when obviously under pressure, Lieutenant Cockburn still offered his hand to help Bethany down to the gig and ensured that she was sitting comfortably before he pushed off. Mr Dover and some Russian dignitaries had been ushered into the longboat, where they sat impassively as they smoothed across the harbour. The whole operation, from entering the Grand Harbour to leaving the ship, had taken barely half an hour; Jack was impressed again at the efficiency of the Royal Navy. He expected no less; after all, throughout his life he had heard only praise heaped upon the service. Now, he turned his attention to the city that they were rapidly approaching.

  The instructions from Admiral Blacklock had been barely an outline of the task ahead, but he presumed there would be somebody on hand to give him more details. He looked eagerly ahead as the oarsmen propelled the gig over the flat water, passing the colourful Maltese craft and the various trading vessels that crossed the harbour. Valletta appeared old, crowded and, as Bethany had said, exotic. Presumably the countryside was less busy, he mused, but an island with this much history must have some sort of road network, so he would be able to check their system of engineering and see what worked.

  ‘Oh, Jack, is this not exciting?’ Bethany’s voice broke into his thoughts and he nodded absently.

  ‘Extremely.’

  ‘Is this your first time overseas?’ Lieutenant Cockburn asked.

  ‘It is, James … Lieutenant Cockburn,’ Bethany corrected herself. ‘And I am determined to grasp every opportunity offered to me.’ She moved closer, allowing him to point out the most interesting features of Valletta, as Jack continued to wrestle with the future.

  Six months was not a great deal of time in which to build a road, even one of such a moderate length as this small island would need, so he would have to start as quickly as possible. To whom should he report? For a moment, he considered asking Lieutenant Cockburn, but the man was speaking to Bethany and concentrating on steering the gig as best he could, well aware of the telescopes that would be trained on him by the officers on the naval craft moored in the harbour. Anyway, Jack reasoned, he could not ask the lieutenant for advice in front of Bethany, who already held him in too high regard.

  ‘You have my thanks, Lieutenant Cockburn, and those of my wife,’ Jack said, giving a stiff bow, as a trio of tattooed seamen unceremoniously dumped his luggage at the Governor’s private steps. He winced at the thought of his delicate theodolite being treated in such a cavalier fashion. He would need this precious instrument intact if the road was to be perfectly level.

  Cockburn gave a deep bow, then smiled at Bethany and nodded to Jack. ‘If you will excuse me, I must make my report to the Admiral. It is all haste today, I fear.’ He raced long-legged up the steps, straightening his bicorn hat and adjusting his sword. Some Admirals might not take kindly to a lieutenant bringing news of his captain’s death, but a share of the prize money from the captured French frigate would surely sweeten the pill. Once again Jack cursed at his lack of funds, for he knew that Lieutenant Cockburn’s quarter share of the value of the frigate would significantly add to his wealth, and all for a slice of luck and a few moments’ madness. The Admiral, Sir Alexander Ball, who was also the Civil Commissioner of Malta, would rake in his eighth of the frigate’s value without having been within gunshot.

  ‘We appear to be on our own,’ Bethany said, as the seamen followed their lieutenant. Dover and the Russians had vanished on some mysterious mission of their own. ‘What on earth do we do now, Jack?’ Removing her canvas hat, she fanned her face, eyes wide and questioning. ‘Was somebody not meant to meet us here?’

  They stared at each other for a long moment, while the heat mounted and the water lapped slowly on the steps behind them.

  ‘Do you have any suggestions, Jack?’ Sighing, Bethany perched herself on top of her leather bag. ‘It is a long way to come merely to be abandoned.’

  ‘If you wait here, Bethany, I will find somebody,’ Jack said, looking around him. Save for a few naval officers, this section of Valletta seemed destitute of human life.

  ‘I certainly shall not wait here on my own, Jack Tarver! It is hardly ladylike to sit on a bag while strange seamen gawk at me. Either we stay together or we leave together!’

  ‘Jack Tarver?’ The shout came from above them. A tall, thin man bounded down the stairs two at a time while simultaneously clicking the fingers of both hands. ‘Jack Tarver the engineer?’

  ‘That’s me!’ Jack acknowledged, waving a hand more in relief than welcome.

  ‘Is that Jack Tarver who designed the Hereford Canal?’

  ‘It is,’ Jack agreed, glancing towards Bethany.

  ‘Good God, man! How good to see you out here in Malta. This is the last place on God’s earth, this. Full of flies and mosquitoes and such like. Welcome, by the way.’ The man reached out a hand t
hat seemed far too large for the slender wrist that supported it, adjusted a floppy hat so it did not fall over his long face and beamed again. ‘Jack Tarver! Well, I never … out in Malta.’

  ‘And you are, sir?’ Jack took the hand, surprised by the strength of the man’s grip.

  ‘Oh,’ the man shoved back his hat and blinked in the strong sunshine. ‘Did I not say? I am Thomas Egerton. I am the other engineer here, and we’ll be working together. The Governor – that’s what we call Sir Alexander Ball, by the way – said that I should concentrate on the harbour and have somebody else do the road. That’s why you’re here, I think.’ Opening a wide mouth, he laughed. ‘I knew nothing about your arrival until an hour ago, when Sir Alexander sent me a note about you.’

  ‘Are there two of us working together, Mr Egerton? I know nothing about that.’ Ignoring most of the words that cascaded from Mr Egerton’s mouth, Jack fixed on what seemed an important fact. ‘I was only informed that I would be engineering a road from a harbour to the town of Mdina …’

  ‘Ah yes,’ Mr Egerton nodded. ‘That you are, Mr Tarver, but, you see, the harbour is not quite built yet.’

  ‘Not quite?’ Jack prompted. ‘I thought it would be established.’

  ‘Ah,’ Mr Egerton laughed again. ‘I am afraid you were ill informed, Mr Tarver. Yes. You see, I have yet to complete it.’

  ‘I understand,’ Jack nodded. Admiral Blacklock had stipulated that he had six months to build his road and he wondered if the completion of the harbour would hamper his timescale. If he was late, he might not earn the remuneration he was promised, which was worrying. ‘Pray tell me, Mr Egerton, just how far you have progressed.’

  ‘Well, I haven’t quite begun it,’ Mr Egerton admitted. ‘I’ve drawn the plans, of course, but there is trouble with the labour force … they don’t want to work, you see. So I’m glad that you’re here.’ He looked around Grand Harbour, ‘There is so much of interest here, don’t you think? There are the old fortifications, the architecture and the archaeology. Do you, by chance, have an interest in archaeology, Mr Tarver?’

  ‘Archaeology?’ Tarver shook his head. ‘I have not the slightest interest in archaeology, Mr Egerton.’

  ‘No?’ Mr Egerton peered closer, with his eyes becoming sharper. ‘There are many archaeological sites in Malta, Mr Tarver, and many interesting artefacts to be discovered. Perhaps you would like to search for some? It is an interesting diversion when one is not engaged in engineering operations.’

  Jack shook his head again. ‘I have no interest in archaeology, I am afraid, although I do believe that some old structures provide excellent material for buildings.’

  ‘So you have no interest at all, sir?’ Mr Egerton sought confirmation. He looked at Jack with narrow, suddenly shrewd eyes.

  ‘I believe my husband already said that.’ There was an edge in Bethany’s voice that told Jack she did not like the garrulous Mr Egerton. She reminded Jack of her presence with a sharp jab in his ribs. ‘Fascinating although this conversation is, I would like to be somewhere else. I would prefer to be out of this sun that will play havoc with my complexion.’

  ‘Oh,’ Mr Egerton looked at Bethany, and then at Jack. ‘Is this woman with you?’

  ‘This woman is my wife,’ Jack told him calmly before Bethany could reply with something more forceful.

  ‘Wife? Oh …’ For a moment, Mr Egerton looked confused, but then he shrugged in a most Continental gesture, one that Jack found vaguely irritating. ‘I suppose it will be all right to bring a woman with you.’ He looked at Bethany and gave a perfunctory and obviously reluctant bow. ‘It will be a hard and lonely life for you, Mrs Tarver.’

  Bethany’s curtsey was as brief as Mr Egerton’s bow. ‘It will hardly be lonely, Mr Egerton, with my husband here.’

  ‘Yes, but he will be making a road, Mrs Tarver, while you will surely be in Valletta. There is no society elsewhere in Malta, and you will crave the company of other ladies …’

  ‘Where my husband goes, Mr Egerton, I also go. That’s what marriage means, you see.’

  Recognising that the sweetness of her smile hid a rapidly rising temper, Jack again intervened. ‘Now, Mr Egerton, you know this country. Have there been arrangements made for somewhere for us to stay? And is there some transport for our belongings? A coach, say, or even a country wagon?’

  ‘A coach?’ Mr Egerton began to laugh, but when he saw the expression on Bethany’s face he stopped abruptly. ‘No, Mr Tarver. There is no coach, and even if there was, there is hardly a road fit for the name. That is why you are here, sir, to create such a thing.’

  ‘If there is no coach, sir,’ Bethany intervened, becoming impatient, ‘then pray point out the direction so we can at least walk to our destination. Or are we destined to remain stranded on these infernal steps for the duration of Bonaparte’s war?’

  Bethany’s obvious anger must have spurred Mr Egerton, for he suddenly bowed low and apologised. ‘Of course, Mrs Tarver. Pray, forgive my poor manners. I just did not expect Mr Tarver to be accompanied by a wom … by his wife. Of course there will be arrangements in hand.’ He looked flustered for a moment, then nearly danced on the steps, snapping his fingers together and looking at the wide harbour, as if seeking inspiration.

  ‘I am pleased to hear of it!’ Bethany was hardly mollified. ‘And I would be obliged if you could inform us exactly what these arrangements are, so we can get out of this sun and into some shade.’

  ‘Oh …’ Mr Egerton snapped his fingers again. ‘I presume that Sir Alexander has that sort of thing all in hand.’

  ‘Sir Alexander?’ Jack asked. He realised that the Admiral’s name had been mentioned twice. ‘Why would Sir Alexander Ball be interested in the arrival of an engineer? Surely he has more important matters on his mind?’

  ‘Did I not say?’ Mr Egerton gave a nervous giggle. ‘That’s what the note he sent me said. I am to escort you into His Excellency’s presence, and with all speed and dispatch too. Sir Alexander ordered.’

  ‘But my clothes …’ Bethany looked down at the travel-stained dress she wore, and then smiled, as her practical side took control. ‘Oh well, I suppose that Sir Alexander realises we have just come off the boat.’

  ‘Sir Alexander did not mention a woman …’ Mr Egerton began, but closed his mouth as Bethany threw him a look that would have cooled even Malta’s ferocious summer heat.

  ‘What in heaven’s name would Sir Alexander want with us?’ Jack wondered aloud.

  Mr Egerton shrugged, obviously glad of the distraction from Bethany’s expression. ‘I suggest that you visit him and find out, Mr Tarver.’

  Chapter Four

  A Task for Jack Tarver

  Overlooking a courtyard of lush gardens, the room in Sir Alexander’s Valletta residence was large, airy and opulent. The furnishings were too ornate for Jack’s taste, and the decor too flamboyant, so he immediately felt out of place and awkward. Bethany, however, seemed to expand into her new environment, her personality overcoming any imagined imperfections in her dress.

  ‘This is exceedingly elegant,’ she said, looking around. ‘Very impressive.’ Instinctively walking to a gold-framed mirror, she removed her hat and patted her hair into an approximation of order. ‘Dear Lord, what a mess I am in. I do wish we had been given time to prepare.’

  ‘Can’t be helped,’ Jack said. He could feel his heart thumping nervously. ‘But I do wonder why the Commissioner wants to see us?’

  Mr Egerton shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, snapping his fingers. ‘But I must leave you now. The invitation did not extend to me.’ He seemed quite relieved to back away, hurrying down a broad marble staircase, leaving Jack and Bethany alone in the room.

  ‘This is exceedingly elegant,’ Bethany said again, testing one of the chairs that stood around a long, highly polished table on which lay a three-month-old copy of The Gazette. She stood up immediately as the door opened, showing that she was not as relaxed as she was trying to appear.

>   In his early fifties and with a receding hairline above a long, sensitive face, Admiral Ball dominated the room as he strode in. His smile contained genuine warmth, as he bowed to Bethany, then shook Jack’s hand far more warmly than his rank dictated.

  ‘Mr Tarver! Admiral Blacklock wrote me all about you.’ His eyes were wryly amused and he had retained a homely trace of Gloucestershire in his accent.

  ‘I am honoured, sir,’ Jack bowed.

  ‘Nonsense! You are a skilled engineer, and a man with other talents too, according to Edward – Admiral Blacklock. And you, Mrs Tarver’ – again Sir Alexander bowed, his eyes now shrewd – ‘I have heard the most favourable reports of you.’

  ‘I cannot think why, Sir Alexander,’ Bethany wondered.

  ‘Indeed?’ Sir Alexander stood beneath the ornate chandelier, with the portrait of a sombre Grand Master behind him and the sun filtering through the plants outside. He stepped back to look at Bethany. ‘Admiral Blacklock informed me that you would be accompanying your husband. That may be useful in this island. The Maltese are a family-oriented people, Mrs Tarver, and having you here may help Mr Tarver in his endeavours.’ He smiled at Jack’s obvious perplexity. ‘HMS Rowan carried Admiral Blacklock’s letters, Mr Tarver, and I have spent the past half-hour reading them.’

  ‘I see, sir.’ Jack hoped that Bethany would not mention their long hot wait on the steps.

  ‘It is an honour to meet you, Sir Alexander.’ Bethany said. ‘Why, the whole world knows about your part at the Battle of the Nile, where you sunk L’Orient, and your defeat of the French in Malta was a grievous blow at Bonaparte’s pride.’ Bethany had not wasted her time during the voyage, but had read everything she could about the recent history of Malta.

  ‘The Maltese people defeated the French quite as much as I did,’ Sir Alexander said, with a slight smile. ‘But now we must ensure that they remain under British protection. It is their wish and our desire, after all.’ He shook his head, ‘Did you know that one of their most noted leaders, Vincenzo Borg, wrote to me stating that – and I can quote this directly, it is so dear to my heart – “the vast majority of us wish to see the islands fall under British jurisdiction”.’