Burke in the Land of Silver

by Tom Williams

  ‘I’m afraid, Thomas, that Colonel Beresford shows remarkably little interest in my opinions.’

  ‘Is there nothing you can do?’

  Yes, Burke thought, there was one slim chance that he could save the situation. He had to find someone who could negotiate on behalf of the criollos and try to reach some sort of settlement before Beresford’s position became impossible.

  ‘Go home and try not to worry, Thomas,’ he said. ‘I’ll sort something out.’

  The Irishman eventually left, somewhat reassured, and James paid a visit to the stables and demanded that they supply him with the best horse they had. The next morning he set off from Buenos Aires, heading northwest.

  The British only controlled the city so James decided it would be wiser not to wear a uniform for the journey. He left the town dressed as a gaucho, with the broad-brimmed hat and wide trousers that he had grown so used to seeing during his time on the pampas.

  He rode hard all day until he saw the familiar silhouette of Paco Iglesias’s estancia on the horizon.

  The guard in the watchtower must have recognised him because Pedro rode out to meet him before he reached the little bridge that led into the estancia compound. He had two men with him and they carried carbines in a way that suggested that they were not there out of friendship.

  ‘What do you want here, Burke?’

  James stopped his horse, sitting very still with his arms clear of his body and no weapon in sight.

  ‘I want to see Paco Iglesias.’

  ‘I don’t think Sr Iglesias wants to see you.’

  ‘I have urgent business with him.’

  Pedro pushed his horse until he was just feet away from James.

  ‘You’re a spy, Burke. You are an English spy. Give me one good reason why we should not cut you down here.’

  ‘Pedro, I fought beside you. I have spilled blood for your country. Nothing I have done has been to damage your cause.’

  Pedro spat.

  ‘The English are in Buenos Aires. It is their flag that flies over the town – not the flag of a free Argentina. They collect the taxes that the Spanish collected. They tell us where we can sell our goods. Their men steal from the people even more blatantly than the Spanish did. You have plotted with your Beresford to replace a Spanish tyranny with an English one. You have done nothing for Argentina. You are an enemy spy and nothing more.’

  ‘I have come here, unarmed, to speak with Sr Iglesias. I have put myself in your power because I believe that I can help you free your country. If you are men of honour, you will not strike a man who has come peacefully for parley.’

  Pedro backed his horse away. His companions fingered their weapons as the three men held an urgent whispered discussion in which the word ‘honour’ featured several times.

  In his time with the gauchos, James had come to realise how important the concept of honour was to them. Now, it was all that stood between him and an ignominious death.

  The debate between the three men seemed to reach a conclusion and Pedro turned his horse toward the farm buildings, beckoning James to follow.

  They rode directly up to the clapboard house where, before they could dismount, Paco Iglesias exploded out of the door, yelling abuse. He seemed happy to vent his anger at both James and Pedro, who was informed that he should have killed the English spy rather than let him sully the soil of his home.

  James dropped out of the saddle.

  ‘Sr Iglesias, we don’t have time for all this. I need to talk to de Liniers.’

  Paco Iglesias stopped his tirade in mid-sentence.

  ‘Get in the house and show some discretion.’ And then, to Pedro, ‘Take yourself away but keep an eye on his horse.’

  Inside the house, Paco hurried James to the office where he ran the farm’s affairs.

  ‘What do you mean by mentioning his name like that?’

  ‘Sr Iglesias, the admiral and I made an arrangement. I have not betrayed him. But things are moving out of control. I need to talk to him.’

  Paco sat behind his desk, which was cluttered with paper. He picked up a sheet irritably, looked at it for a moment, and dropped it back.

  ‘I don’t think Sr de Liniers wants to talk to you.’

  ‘Apparently not. But it is necessary.’

  Paco fidgeted with his papers again and then seemed to come to a decision.

  ‘We’re riding to join de Liniers tomorrow. You will ride with us – but as our prisoner. If he wants to talk to you, you can talk. If not . . .’

  He left the sentence unfinished and turned toward the window. Leaning out of it, he shouted for Pedro.

  Burke was escorted from the room and taken to the feed store. Built to keep rats out of the grain, it was certainly sound enough to hold a man overnight – not that James intended to escape.

  The next morning the estancia was the scene of frantic, but organised, activity. Thirty riders were preparing for a journey. Pedro released James from the grain store and led him to his horse.

  ‘I’m not going to tie your hands,’ said Pedro. ‘We have a long journey and I want you able to ride fast. And we have broken bread together and I would not see you humiliated. But if you try to leave, we will bring you down and we will kill you.’

  He looked James straight in the eye.

  ‘You know we can do this.’

  At that moment, Paco Iglesias appeared at the door of his house. A gaucho ran up, leading his horse and, as he mounted, cheers rang out from the men around James. Iglesias raised his hand in acknowledgement and started out of the estancia, the others falling in behind him.

  They rode south. At first, the pampas was as deserted as ever but as the morning wore on, they saw other bands of horsemen in the distance, all riding in the same direction.

  James realised that he was too late. This was de Liniers’ army. He was being carried to the attack that would drive the British out of Buenos Aires.

  *

  De Liniers had watched from Monte Video as the situation of the British in Buenos Aires had deteriorated. At the beginning of the occupation, Beresford had decided that it would be good for morale if the Union flag were paraded around the square in front of the fort each day at noon, while the band played ‘God Save the King’ This had done nothing to improve the chances of the British being viewed as liberators rather than conquerors, but at least it had, at first, generated no particular animosity. With the passing weeks, though, resentment of this demonstration of colonial power had increased and the band had been greeted with boos and jeers. By now, when they ventured out, they were greeted with a hail of stones and rotten fruit.

  Off-duty soldiers, who had had first been welcomed in the taverns of the town, found themselves waylaid by thugs and robbed or beaten. By the end of September, troops were confined to barracks after dark. Contact between citizens and soldiery was confined to searches by military patrols and exchanges of abuse at guard posts.

  The mayor had taken no action at first, preferring to see the way the wind blew before committing himself. Once it was clear that the British occupation was bringing no benefits to the town, the people had turned against the troops. At first, Sr de Álzaga tried to meet with Beresford to explain the problems that his edicts were causing and to negotiate some compromise. But he was no more able to persuade Beresford to soften his approach than Burke had been. So, having no military forces at his disposal, the mayor took the only step he could. He called a general strike.

  The collapse of British government was, as far as de Liniers was concerned, the best thing that could have happened. For a while, he had feared that the British might have established themselves successfully, in which case he would have had to negotiate with Beresford, trying to hold him to the bargain struck with Lieutenant Burke. The present chaos was much more satisfactory, though. Now, de Liniers was confident that he could unite the rebels of the countryside and the Spanish sympathisers in the town. They would make common cause to drive the invaders from La Plata. The campaign
would leave Spain weakened, and the criollos on the verge of successful revolt. Most importantly, though, it was a war that would leave Santiago de Liniers, rebel leader and Spanish admiral, holding the power that came with victory – whichever faction ultimately triumphed.

  De Liniers had seen Popham’s ships anchor off Monte Video and decided it was time to slip back across the Plate. The Spanish forces in Monte Video were small and would be tied down defending the town. That, de Liniers realised, left him free to organise the liberation of Buenos Aires without the Spanish army being involved. Far from needing the troops for his plans, he wanted to see Buenos Aires liberated by the natives of La Plata.

  Word went out to the rebel army that had been secretly preparing for years. Men like Paco Iglesias received their orders. Now, forty miles west of Buenos Aires, in the little town of Lujan, the rebels forces had assembled.

  In one of the finest houses in the town, de Liniers stood in front of a mirror. He gave a tight smile of satisfaction at the image that looked back at him. He wore gaucho clothes, reflecting his role as the leader of the patriots. His Spanish uniform hung ready, if needed, in Buenos Aires.

  Outside the house, a horse was waiting for him, its saddle a sculpture in leather, its harness and reins dripping with silver. The horse wore the decoration that, as a man of the people, de Liniers thought it wiser not to wear himself. Yet when he mounted, he was every inch a leader. He set off for the town plaza and the people cheered at his passing.

  As he entered the plaza, the cheers grew almost deafening. There, filling the square, was his army of gauchos. From estancias across the nation, the likes of Paco Iglesias had ridden with their men to muster here.

  De Liniers raised his hand and, slowly, the cheering died. Once there was silence, save for the stamping of hooves and the chink of harness, he spoke.

  ‘Men of Argentina! You have ridden here to Lujan, where, for a hundred years, the people of this country have travelled to pray at the shrine of Our Lady of Lujan. This town is the spiritual heart of the country that we dream of. And from here, we set out to strike the first blow that will make us free! For, if we have known servitude under Spain, our masters have at least been of our blood. But those who would govern us now are alien to our ways. They do not speak our language. They do not share our religion. They have no place in our country.

  ‘Men of Argentina! We ride to Buenos Aires and a glorious victory!’

  The cheers echoed around the plaza again as de Liniers turned his horse and rode through the streets and out into the open pampas beyond the town. Behind him, the rebel horsemen followed, men from each estancia riding together under the natural authority of their employers: an arrangement that gave the rebels a structure and organisation that transformed them from a mob to an army.

  In their midst, surrounded by the Iglesias’s men, rode Lieutenant James Burke of His Britannic Majesty’s Army. He looked around him and almost despaired. With the townsfolk against them and these rebels marching on Buenos Aires, Beresford’s troops didn’t stand a chance.

  Burke pushed his horse closer to Paco Iglesias.

  ‘I have to speak to de Liniers.’

  ‘I can’t get you to him now. We won’t attack the city today. We’ll camp for the night and attack tomorrow, so they can’t regroup in the dark. I’ll make sure you see de Liniers tonight.’

  Burke had to be content with that and he rode on. Around him, voices were raised in song and the grasslands were green with the first promise of spring. It was a lovely day – but he rode with a chill in his heart.

  They camped that night on the plain, still some miles from the city. Paco Iglesias left Burke sitting with his men and the evening reminded him of the evenings he had spent with these same men when they had worked the cattle on Sr Iglesias’s estancia. The men were more relaxed with him than they had been, clearly unable to take him seriously as a threat to their plans. Still, there was a tension around the campfire they had built – a tension that was only broken when Paco Iglesias returned to tell them that de Liniers had agreed to see their prisoner.

  Iglesias led Burke through the mass of horsemen to where de Liniers sat alone beside a campfire. He had clearly chosen to sleep on the ground alongside his men as a political gesture but was equally clearly missing the prospect of a real bed. The appearance of James at his fireside did not improve his mood.

  ‘I told you I never wanted to see you again.’

  ‘And a pleasant evening to you, Admiral.’

  James sat himself on the ground as easily as if he was stopping for a chat with an old friend.

  ‘I asked you once before why I should not have you shot and you talked your way out of that. Is there any reason why I shouldn’t have you killed now, so I never need look on you again?’

  James smiled pleasantly.

  ‘Now you come to mention it, there is. I don’t think you want Sr Iglesias to hear it, though.’

  De Liniers sighed and gestured for Iglesias to leave before he turned his attention to Burke.

  ‘All right, Mr Burke. I know you are not a fool. So tell me what you have to tell me.’

  ‘You own a house on the west of Buenos Aires.’

  ‘Do I?’

  ‘It wasn’t a question, señor. I’ve been there. And I’ve dug up your office floor.’

  For a moment, James thought he had miscalculated and that de Liniers was going to kill him on the spot. But the admiral, with a visible effort, restrained himself.

  ‘There is, presumably, a reason why you are telling me this.’

  ‘Well, I had rather hoped that I could offer it back in exchange for cooperation with the British.’

  De Liniers gave a short, mirthless laugh.

  ‘I think things have, perhaps, moved rather beyond that, don’t you?’

  James nodded, sombrely.

  ‘I think, perhaps, they have. But that is no fault of mine.’

  ‘It’s no fault of mine either, Lieutenant Burke. I fulfilled my part of the bargain. It is the British who failed to keep theirs.’

  ‘Colonel Beresford has not been as diplomatic as we might have wished,’ agreed James, ‘but you didn’t make it easier. You never presented yourself for negotiations. You left me claiming an agreement with an invisible ally. You set the situation up and you watched it fall apart. Why?’

  De Liniers said nothing but his glance encompassed the army spread around them.

  ‘I see,’ said Burke and, for the first time, he did see. ‘I thought you were cunning but I underestimated you. What do you intend to do when Buenos Aires falls to you?’

  De Liniers shrugged.

  ‘It depends on who makes me the better offer. This whole affair has left the Viceroy looking like a fool. He has no support here or in Spain. I think there will be a vacancy for the post soon.’

  ‘And you think that these men will accept you as viceroy?’

  ‘Why not? They know I am committed to the well-being of the country. And, without me, the rebels are leaderless. Should they decide to appoint a new leader – well, I know who they all are. And the Spanish army can be quite ruthless when properly directed.’

  ‘And if the Spanish don’t appoint you?’

  ‘Then I will be in Buenos Aires with my army and they will be wondering how to get their province back. Either way, I win.’

  ‘And where do the British stand in this?’

  ‘They’ve served their part. Had they been true to our agreement, I would have treated them honourably. As it is, they are not my concern.’

  ‘Let Popham evacuate them.’

  ‘And have an army and a navy roving up and down the Plate wondering where to take revenge? I think not.’

  ‘Britain will be avenged if you kill them.’

  ‘Britain, as you well know, is a long way away and fighting a desperate war in Europe. I am confident that we can defeat any army they can spare, just as we can, if necessary, deal with Spain.’

  The two men watched each other, each weighin
g their opponent. James was the first to speak.

  ‘I want to buy their lives.’

  ‘With my own money.’

  James did not bother to reply.

  ‘I will have the whole of La Plata. Why should I care about the money?’

  ‘You’re not a patriot, de Liniers. You’re French. You betrayed the Spanish to the British and now you’re betraying the British to these men here. And already, you are planning to betray them to the Spanish. You live for power. And that money is the measure of the power you have. You don’t spend it: you hide it. And there, in that hidden place where you take your women, you count it.

  ‘Don’t tell me you don’t care about the money, de Liniers. It’s really all that you do care about.’

  Again, the two men sat silent, watching each other. After what, to Burke, seemed an interminable pause, de Liniers gave a slow smile. It was, thought James, the smile you would expect to see on the face of a snake, if snakes had lips to smile with.

  ‘Very well. You may have their lives. And how do you suppose this exchange will be made?’

  ‘You will accept their surrender and allow Popham to take them off with an undertaking that he will sail directly back to England. Once they are embarked, I will show you where the money is.’

  De Liniers did not respond but sat watching the fire for a full two minutes before calling for Paco Iglesias to rejoin them.

  ‘Paco, take Lieutenant Burke away. Keep him safe and keep him close. If he attempts to escape, try to bring him back alive. If you must kill him, make sure that he dies very painfully.’

  Paco looked embarrassed by this order but led James back to where his men were gathered. On the way, he asked for James’ promise that he would not attempt to escape.

  ‘I know you are a brave man and I would not have you bound but de Liniers is obviously anxious that I keep you safe. Do I have your word?’

  ‘Yes, my friend, gladly. Your commander and I need each other. I have no more desire to escape than he, at this moment, wishes me dead.’

  Paco was clearly confused by the situation but, as they sat and ate together, he tried to put it out of his mind. James, too, concentrated on the moment – the smell of men, smoke, and horses; the sound of voices raised in song and, here and there, a guitar; the taste of the dried beef, and the rough red wine.