by Griff Hosker
It sounded suicidal to me but, like the others, I nodded. I did not want to end my days in a prison cell smelling of other men’s waste. We all stood and stretched. We would need to be quick when our chance came. Jean apart, we were all fit young men and I did not think that the guards would pose too much of a problem. Jean might be older but he had kept himself fit and he would not slow us down. We were soldiers who were used to fighting. They were guards in a prison.
We heard the murmur of voices which told us they were coming. We all stood and Jean nodded to us. I clenched my fists. They were my only weapons and I would have to use them to escape from this cell. The door opened and we readied ourselves. The first thing we saw was the seven bayonets forming a circle of steel. One by one, seven guards entered and each of us had a bayonet pressed against our middle. The eighth, a moustachioed veteran, watched us. He barked something in Italian and Michael said, “We are to go with them. If we try to escape then we will be shot!”
I was the first one to be prodded out and I was met by another two guards. They were taking no chances. One of the guards led us down a spiral stair which kept going until we reached a heavy door. Another guard opened the door and the bright December light blinded me as we stepped into the courtyard. As soon as my eyes became accustomed to the light I looked around for a means of escape. My heart fell when I saw that the only way in or out was through the one door. There were just blank walls. We were not to be hanged we were to be shot. The wall looked to have been used before for it was peppered with bullet holes. This looked like a perfect place to line us up. I estimated that there were at least ten guards with muskets. We would be shot. As the rest were brought out we were lined up against the wall. The guards stood in a line close to the door. I glanced up at Jean and motioned with my head. Perhaps if we rushed them we might reach them before they hit us. I knew how hard it was to hit a moving target with an army musket. Jean shook his head.
Suddenly the firing squad snapped to attention and a well dressed man with the look of authority stepped into the courtyard. He spoke to the guards and they left, closing and bolting the door behind them. The man stood there adjusting the lace cuff of his richly decorated coat. He did not appear to even notice us. I wondered why he was just waiting and then he looked up to the covered walkway half way along the wall. The guards who had left us suddenly appeared and they aimed their muskets at us. Satisfied that he was now protected the grey haired man strode across to us. He had a Spanish beard and moustache and was slim. The thing you noticed about him was his stare. He had piercing eyes which reminded me of a hunting hawk and he scrutinised you as though preparing to devour you.
Ha halted before us and appraised us all. He addressed Jean in French. “I am Antonio Onofri and I am one of the Regents of San Marino. You are six spies sent by General Napoleon Bonaparte. You are all French soldiers. We have found your uniforms and weapons.” He saw Jean about to speak and held up his hand. “Do not speak for the words will be lies. I know what I speak is true. You may not be here to spy upon my small country but you will report back to your general and I know that he has ambitions beyond leading an army.”
I knew that to be true but I wondered how he knew this. San Marino was detached from the world and yet he appeared to know what went on beyond its borders.
He had been addressing Jean who now spread his arms. “True we are soldiers of France but we are passing through your city. Surely that is no crime? Had we worn our uniforms it might have been thought an act of war.”
The Regent smiled and nodded, “So the general is wise in his choice of spies. You have intelligence and can reason. Good. I know that you are not spying on my land yet but I wish to forestall any invasion. My city enjoys peace and prosperity and I would wish that to continue.” He pointed to the guards on the covered walkway. “I am here out of earshot and speaking in French because I wish to offer you a proposal.”
Suddenly things did not look quite so bleak. There was a chance that we might survive. Jean’s face remained impassive. “What sort of proposal?”
“When you return to your general tell him that I am a friend of France and the Revolution. We have no king here nor do we need one. In return for our sovereignty he will have the friendship and cooperation of San Marino.”
Jean nodded, “And that sounds reasonable but I cannot see what you will gain by letting us go.” I looked in horror at Jean. Why was he spurning the opportunity of freedom?
“You are a wise choice of leader. I will be frank with you, I could have sent an emissary to the general but that would have risked capture. He might have been ignored by your general. This way your General Bonaparte owes me a favour.” He shrugged, “He may not be an honourable man, I do not know, but this is a risk. Besides I suspect you will be eloquent on my behalf.”
“And why do you think that?”
“Because you know that the alternative would be to rot in our prison until you were old and grey.”
“Or until our army rescued us.”
The Regent’s eyes narrowed and his face hard. “Oh no my brave cavalryman; you would be the first to die once anyone fired on our city.”
“And what if we leave and then tell our general nothing of your offer.”
“How refreshing to meet an honest and truthful man. You have answered your own question. You will tell him of the offer because you are grateful for your life and those of these fine young men.”
Jean smiled for the first time, “You are right.” He held out his hand. “You have my word that we will be eloquent on your behalf. I just wanted to make sure that there was no trick to this message.”
“Quite so and I understand.” He waved a hand the muskets above us disappeared. “Now we will feed you and then you will be on your way. I will not ask where you are going and then I can answer my neighbours honestly when I express surprise at the six spies in their lands.”
We were well fed and our clothes and weapons returned. I was pleased that they had looked after our horses. The Regent took us to the gate. His servants brought us bread and cheese for the journey and a jug of wine. He spoke quietly to Jean. “I suspect you are heading south. I would avoid the larger towns if I were you. There are garrisons in Ancona and Pescara.” That dashed any hopes I might have had for a comfortable journey for they were to have been two of our halts on the way south. “However it is Christmas and there will be more hospitality in the smaller towns. I assume you have money and that will buy silence.” He patted Jean’s horse on the rump, “Farewell it has been an interesting introduction to the soldiers of France.”
“And thank you, Regent, although a conversation last night might have prevented an uncomfortable evening.”
He spread his arms, “Ah we had to search your belongings carefully and I wanted you in the correct frame of mind. Oh one more thing; the illusion of travellers in small groups does not really work. You look and act like soldiers. We knew to watch out for you when the rider from Ferrara told us of six French soldiers. You might as well stay together for you fool no-one.”
We headed south. Jean laughed when we were a mile or so from the town. “Well I don’t think that we have a future as spies do we?”
“We still go on then sir? Isn’t there a risk that he might have been lying to us?”
“He could have been but I can’t think why and what he would gain. No we will take his advice and carry on.”
The advice turned out to be good. We were welcomed in the two small towns in which we took shelter. It was not an act of kindness but business. They happily took our money. They did not mind that we were French. They had no love for the Austrians and the war seemed a long way away. Their King Ferdinand was not a popular man anyway. The view of those in the country was that so long as they were left alone they were happy. And so, on the seventh day after leaving the general, we reached our destination and we looked down on the city of Naples with the brooding Vesuvius close by. As we looked down we saw the flags flying from the jack staffs of the
warships. There was a British Flotilla in the harbour. I suddenly realised that Michel’s part was almost over and, now, it would be my turn to be the spy.
Chapter 10
We did not enter the town as we still had Onofri’s warnings ringing in our ears. Jean pointed to Vesuvius. “We will skirt the volcano and find somewhere where we can observe the harbour from a safer vantage point.”
A mile or so from the city we found Portici which was a small port with enough houses and places to eat to provide accommodation and cover. There was a fine palace in the town but as there were no flags flying we assumed that it was unoccupied. There were two overweight guards at the gate but we assumed that they were largely caretakers.
“Michael ride down to the port and find out if there are any small boats for hire. We will try to get some accommodation.”
We now had enough Italian to be able to ask the basic questions. There was only one inn which had any spare rooms for travellers but it was quite a good hotel. We discovered later on that the servants of visitors to the palace often stayed there if the palace was full. The rooms were pleasant and had the most fantastic views across the bay of Naples to the island of Capri. The coastline looked rugged but beautiful. We left the inn and waited outside for Michael to return. After he had stabled his horse we walked to a small hill which afforded us a good view of Portici and Naples and we could make our decisions away from any prying ears.
“There are boats in the harbour. They seemed quite happy to talk about the ships. They are part of an Admiral Nelson’s squadron. They regularly use this as a base and then sail to attack our coastal defences. The arrangement seemed to suit both Naples and Britain but the rumours we heard are true. Ferdinand is not a popular king. One of the reasons the British are here is that they support him.”
“That is good information Michael and I think our general will like that.”
Tiny asked, “Does that mean our job here is done and we can go home?”
“Sorry Tiny, we need more information about the ships and their numbers. Robbie here will need to go into the town and talk to the sailors.”
I had been puzzled by Jean’s orders to Michael. “Sir, why do we need a boat? Can’t we ride into Naples?”
“We could but the Regent was quite right, that would mark us as soldiers and we are at war with Britain. If we arrive by boat then we will arouse less interest. We just need to find a boat owner who can be discreet. We might as well try this now. Charles you, Francois and Tiny remain here. The three of us will go to Naples. If we are not back by tomorrow morning then return to the general with the information we already have. The San Marino intelligence is too valuable to lose with us.”
That was a sobering order. Jean was preparing for the worst. Although there appeared to be few men working Michael had identified a boatman already. He was an old man and he was sewing his nets as we approached. The boat looked big enough for all six of us. Michael did the talking. “Are you busy at the moment?”
Without looking up he said, “I am mending my nets.”
Michael chuckled, “Is that why you are not fishing?”
He looked up for the first time. “My crew are still recovering from the Christmas celebrations. They have no head for fine wine.”
“We would like to hire your boat.”
He put down his net. “Why?”
“We wish to visit Naples.”
He pointed at the spurs on Michael’s boots. “Then ride or do your horses need mending?”
“We would enjoy a sail across the bay. We have heard of its beauty.”
“And why would three Frenchmen wish to see Naples?” I wondered how he knew that we were Frenchmen but as Jean let it pass so did I.
“We are travelling through Italy, that is all.” Michael had grown into his role and could make up a story as quickly as anyone.
The old man nodded. “One gold piece and you will help me to fish.” We looked at Jean. The old man smiled and I noticed he had no front teeth; it gave him a bizarre look. “What does the leader say to that?”
Jean understood enough Italian to grasp that and he nodded. He smiled, took out a coin and gave it to the old man. “Thank you.”
“I am Carlo. Take off your spurs they will damage my boat and you do not wish to arouse suspicion when we step ashore eh?” He was wise and had seen the problems we might encounter already. I wondered why we had not thought to take off the spurs; it gave us away as cavalrymen. Our hair and moustaches were not as noticeable here in Naples but the spurs were. I suppose we were so used to them that they had become invisible.
The nets he had been mending were not his only ones and he had another set on board. We clambered into the boat and within a short time were skimming across the bay. We had to learn to duck. Michael was a little slow and the sail cracked him on the head. The old man chuckled. “You will learn. All young men have to learn things the hard way.”
We sailed a mile or so off shore and he lowered the sail. He pointed to me and Michael and gave us the net. He said something in Italian and Michael said, “When he tells us, we drop the net over the side but keep hold of one end.” Carlo said something else and Michael laughed, “He said if we lose his best net it will cost us five gold pieces.” We drifted for a few minutes while Carlo peered into the blue waters. Suddenly he said something and Michael said, “Over the side with it.” As we did that Carlo tapped Jean on the head and handed him a rope, he mimed pulling. As Jean hoisted the sail we slowly moved inshore. He spoke again to Michael and our translator said, “Right Robbie, haul it in!”
I am a strong man but my back nearly broke as we pulled the silvery mass of fish on board. They were writhing and wriggling as we dropped them to the bottom of the boat. There was a huge variety and I was amazed for we had not been there long.
Carlo looked pleased and he smiled his gap toothed smile. He turned the tiller and headed for the shore. He gave a wink to Jean as we sailed close to the British ships. The sailors on board peered down at us as we sailed by. Carlo waved and they waved back. I saw the names of the three ships. There was the Minerve which had guns on two decks and two smaller ships, the Juno and the Spitfire.
Jean smiled at Carlo and said, “Michel, ask him why he is so happy.”
After an interchange Michael said, “There are no other boats out today. When we land this fish he will make much money. He said that it is a good day and we both have what we want.”
There was a jetty devoid of ships and Carlo headed straight for it. We bumped to the side and he barked an order. Michael leapt over and tied up the small boat. He said something else and Michael nodded. “Carlo wants us to put the fish on that table there.” I could see some stone tables nearby. Obviously this was the fish market. The three of us gathered the fish and piled them up haphazardly on the table. When Carlo had finished with his boat he tut tutted us and began to arrange the fish into type and size. We quickly worked out what he wanted and we complied. When it was arranged people began to wander down. Carlo whispered into Michel’s ear. The old Italian then began to haggle for the fish.
“He said he will wait here until we have finished.” He pointed to the quayside and a busy looking inn. “He said the British like to use that inn.”
Jean shook his head and said, “So much for our disguise.” He leaned in. “Michael, talk to me in Italian in the inn. I will nod and smile. Robbie you listen to the English. Pretend you are dumb.”
Michael laughed, “That should not be hard, sergeant!”
I noticed that, as we neared the inn, people began to look at us. For a moment I worried and then I realised why, we smelled of fish. Carlo had given us the perfect cover. Michael entered first and he headed for the English officers gathered at the table near the bar. He ordered the cheapest jug of wine he could and then began to talk in Italian. I leaned at the bar and smiled but all the time I was listening. It was early afternoon and we had plenty of time. So long as Michael could talk and Jean give an occasional comment we were
safe. When the English officers had the food brought to their table I knew that they were there for some time.
It took me some time to attune to their accents. They were far from Scottish but, as they discussed the food and the wine, I discovered that I understood more and more. When they went on to the grappa and cigars their tongues became looser.
“I think that it is a damn shame. Admiral Nelson has done a fine job here. Why do we have to leave?”
“Politics, dear boy. With no Genoan bases and the loss of Corsica we have nowhere left this side of Gibraltar to supply our ships.”
“I like this billet. Weather is pleasant. The food and wine damned cheap and the frogs are useless sailors. If we end up in the Atlantic again it will be horrendous.”
“Don’t worry; Nelson will be back here soon enough.” The officer leaned in and tapped his nose. “A little bird tells me that he and Lady Hamilton are more than fond of each other.”
“I say, Rodney, that is going a bit far!”
“Just saying what is common gossip.”
Their conversation drifted into a discussion about the beauty of Lady Hamilton and then they paid their bill and left. The inn began to empty and Jean nodded towards the door. When we reached the quayside Carlo was looking happy. There were just a few fish left and, as we approached, he deposited them in a bucket of salt water in the bottom of his boat. He happily jingled a pouch of coins. He said, in awful French, “A good day.”
We headed back across the bay. The sun was setting and the bay looked golden in the dying sun. I envied the Neapolitans. They had a beautiful country, a magnificent climate and peace. As we pulled in Carlo said something to Michael. “He has invited us to eat with him. He says we brought him luck.”
Jean shrugged, “We might as well. It will make us look less conspicuous.”
Carlo knew his fish and the fish stew he made for us was magnificent. He brought out some powerful wine and we enjoyed a good meal. It was probably the best meal we had had on our journey. He pointed to me and Michael and said something. “He said any time we tire of soldiering we can work for him. We are stronger than the boys who work for him.”