The Scent of Betrayal

by David Donachie

  James ignored the gibe. ‘Then you’d best tell me how we lay, so that I may pass it on.’

  Harry explained what had just happened, as they both cast anxious eyes towards the frigate, now coming round into their wake. Then, without pause, he turned to include the two brigs, as though the mere wave of a firm hand was enough to brush them aside. Freed from pressing duties, and seeing Harry conversing with his brother, several of the more curious members of the crew had edged towards them. Harry would have been economical about the true peril of their situation anyway. Their presence made him doubly so. Yet those with the wit to see would not be fooled.

  The brigs were doing exactly what Villemin required of them, sailing large and holding the advantage of the weather-gage. They would never surrender that, no matter what he did. A close engagement would force Harry inshore, where manoeuvre was impossible. Alternatively they could stay ahead, blocking his path, obliging him to come off his best point of sailing to try and slip past them. That would take him, every time he tacked or wore, right into the teeth of the wind, the inevitable effect, playing on the bulk of the ship, acting to slow him down.

  ‘I won’t pretend the situation is rosy, brother. It’s not. We are in some peril. But it depends on those two fellows in our path. Can they coordinate their actions to near perfection?’

  ‘I take it, by your tone, that they must?’

  ‘Most certainly,’ Harry replied, forcing himself to sound cheerful. ‘Bucephalas represents a superior force. On the face of it I could inflict terminal damage on one, or even both, as long as the Marianne is too far away to intervene.’

  ‘Will she be?’ James boomed.

  Harry smiled, even if it had a bitter quality. This was typical James, asking questions in a voice loud enough to be heard by those of his crew standing close, questions that they dare not pose themselves.

  ‘Briefly. And only if I don’t lose one ounce of speed.’

  ‘A tall order, brother, since we have no guns.’

  ‘They don’t know that.’

  ‘Will they not guess? A man in their tops will see all of our deck.’

  ‘It’s possible. But that’s all it will be, a guess.’ Harry pointed towards the Caufields, who’d now manoeuvred the first of the carronades onto the deck. ‘The real question is this. Given the damage they think we can inflict, is either Captain prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice to stop one ship when they’re about to take possession of a whole harbour full of rich prizes?’

  James gestured towards the waist. Several French heads had popped up and were looking hard at the pair by the wheel. ‘This is going to require a deal of explanation.’

  ‘It’s not a task I would entrust to anyone else,’ replied Harry. He only realised once he’d spoken that really James had no other function to perform. But if he’d wounded him by pointing that up, he had no time to repair the fault, and that made him sound more harsh than he truly intended. ‘Now, if you’ll forgive me, brother, I must change tack.’

  ‘Now there, Harry, is an expression that suits you to the letter.’

  Harry favoured his brother, for just a second, with a black look. Then, remembering they were under observation, it was instantly replaced by something more sanguine. Perhaps if James had been content to carry on a private conversation he would have been more forthcoming, admitting their true situation, but he’d been forced to speak in a way that would bolster the crew. Things were bad enough without them giving up hope. He was sure that they trusted him to get them out of this scrape, as he had got them out of so many others. Perhaps luck would favour him. Perhaps one of the two Frenchmen ahead would indeed throw away the total advantage provided by his lack of sea room; fail to use even one of their guns, or sacrifice the all important weather-gage and leave him a clear escape route. Perhaps one of them was a complete and utter fool!

  All that stuff about superior force was hogwash. If they played their cards right they didn’t even have to fight him. They had time on their side, which would allow Villemin to close the range. And he wouldn’t fire off long shot this time, he’d want to get close and inflict real damage. Once that happened, Harry knew, he must strike his flag immediately. The Frenchman might harbour a deep desire to take Bucephalas intact, but the previous signs of resistance would put paid to that notion. There’d be no second chance at subterfuge. Everyone aboard the ship would find themselves helpless victims of the full force of the Marianne’s uncontested broadside.

  The dull boom of distant cannon rumbled in the air. Having heard so many that morning Harry paid the sound no heed. Nor, since he’d looked back to check on the frigate’s progress, did he see the founts of water that rose high in the gap between the two ships ahead.

  ‘Them two brigs are shortening sail, Capt’n,’ called the lookout.

  ‘Shortening sail,’ Harry said, snapping his head round to look.

  ‘You sound surprised, brother.’

  ‘So would you be if you were a sailor, James. That is the very last thing they should be doing. Later, yes. Now, most certainly, no!’

  The lookout called again, this time his voice full of excitement. ‘Ship off the larboard beam, Captain. It’s them that fired the shot.’

  ‘What shot?’

  The lookout either didn’t hear the question or was too excited to answer it. ‘Dead ahead, Captain, just clearing the headland. I can see her tops. She’s got an American flag aloft. I think she’s the Daredevil barque that was in St Croix harbour.’

  Harry snapped at his brother. ‘James, take the wheel and hold her steady.’

  He rushed forward, grabbing a telescope from the rack. The Daredevil’s bowsprit, rounding the point ahead, came into view. The Stars and Stripes streaming forward from her masthead stood out clear above the loom of the land. As she came into plain view he could see that she was heeled over at a steep pitch, a full suit of sails aloft and clearly seeking to make maximum speed. Harry had no way of deciphering what this meant, but the mere sight of the American barque making such a supreme effort lifted his depressed spirits. They had no reason to crack on so unless they intended to take a hand against his enemies. Why that should be so, he couldn’t say. A puff of black smoke spewed forth from the barque’s bow. This was followed a second later by the dull boom of the gun. The salvo that had been fired posed no real danger to either of the brigs. But it left them in little doubt of the Daredevil’s intentions.

  ‘That’s their second go, Capt’n,’ said Pender, who had come to join him. ‘I reckon you missed their first one.’

  Harry merely nodded, his mind racing. This completely altered the nature of the engagement. With a ship to windward of them which looked likely to do battle, the two French brigs had lost their advantage. They could no longer act with impunity, since to pursue Harry Ludlow as required would put them at a distinct disadvantage vis-à-vis the American. And given the Daredevil’s position and course, any effort to pen Harry inshore rendered their situation more dangerous. The proof wasn’t long in coming, and the brigs changed course away from the land. Not that he was in the clear. His opponents were only showing due caution. Something had to be done to make them believe that matters were a great deal worse than they had supposed if he was to actually escape.

  ‘Stand by to go about,’ yelled Harry, rushing back to the wheel to join James. ‘Captain Caufield, if you can get that one carronade ready to fire, I think we can now confound those two ahead of us.’

  ‘What do you intend, Harry?’

  ‘I want them to think I don’t care about Villemin. I want them to believe that I intend to sink them before I strike.’ Harry turned his back on his brother, cutting off the next question. ‘Pender, get below quickly. Inform the gunner I want powder and shot on deck in two minutes, for no more than two rounds of the carronade. And tell him that what I require most from his cartridges is a great deal of smoke.’

  ‘One gun, Harry?’

  Harry glared at his brother, a look which softened immediately. It was
n’t James’s fault. He didn’t understand, any less than Harry had trouble comprehending the most rudimentary skills required to paint, and what seemed like a negative question wasn’t anything more than a request for clarification. Harry raised a hand, forcing James to look up at the sun, now fully risen in the sky.

  ‘We’ll open all the ports, James, and they will be shaded. He won’t be able to see if they contain guns or not, and if we can produce enough smoke he might think we fired off more than one ball. They probably didn’t relish a fight with us in the first place, since they could be put in the situation of sacrificing themselves so that Villemin can claim the glory. They certainly won’t engage on his behalf against two enemies, one of who appears suicidal. But they’ll never let us pass if we don’t show some teeth. All I need is one shot for the sake of their honour. If I give them that they can sheer off with a clear conscience.’

  Caufield had grabbed several seamen, regardless of the need to change tack, and was working furiously to rig the carronade. Realising that he didn’t have enough time to attach it properly to the carriage he’d set two men to rig a temporary breeching that would go some way to holding the massive recoil when it was fired. Bucephalas came round onto the starboard tack with absolute precision, moving away from the shore into more open water, taking maximum advantage of the space provided by her enemies’ shortening sail. The Daredevil’s bow chasers spoke again. This time, with the range shortened, the balls skipped very close to the nearest Frenchman’s hull, which caused the Captain to shy away. But they did no actual damage.

  ‘When you’re ready, Captain Caufield,’ Harry shouted. He then addressed the entire crew. ‘Take station behind the gunports as though they have cannon rigged and ready. I intend to come back onto the larboard tack and make straight for the enemy. Once within range I’ll show him our side. Gunports to remain closed till we come round. I don’t want them to see the true state of our armament.’

  As the men ran to their places Pender came on deck carrying a precautionary length of slow-match, just in case the flintlocks failed to ignite the charge. He was accompanied by the gunner and two Frenchmen. They carried the great metal balls that would hopefully induce caution in their fellow-countrymen. The gunner bore the cartridges in a solemn fashion, like some votive offering. His servant called to the gun crew to step forward and load and the men who worked that particular cannon took their accustomed places. Meanwhile Caufield had passed a stout cable out through the bulwarks on either side, looped round marlinspikes for extra purchase, before fetching them inboard again and lashing them to the tompion of the gun.

  ‘No one to stand behind the cannon, Captain Caufield, if you please. Aim it a touch forward and fire as soon as she bears.’

  Caufield waved just as Daredevil fired off another salvo. Harry looked up to observe the fall of shot, slightly alarmed that with the shortened range they’d still inflicted no damage. He himself was so close the faces of his opponents were in plain view. They’d maintained their position in relation to each other and still had the capacity to snuff out what he was about to attempt. If the American had wounded them, perhaps they’d have shown more caution. But there was no time to speculate on the reasons for Daredevil’s lack of accuracy or the nature of his enemy’s attitude. He gave the orders that would bring them on to the larboard tack, and took a firm grip on the wheel.

  Bucephalas came round handsomely. Using the pressure of the rudder, Harry let the wind carry her to a few points more than his previous course. At his command the gunports flew open. Every sailor who normally manned the guns crouched at his usual position, as if they were about to deliver a broadside. Visible only from the upperworks of the Frenchman, with the guns themselves hidden in shadow, this would add a degree of verisimilitude to the picture that he was seeking to create. The only gun captain with work to do, standing perilously close to the carronade, pulled at the lanyard. Nothing happened. He immediately dropped the slow-match to the touch-hole and jumped backwards. It was as well he did. The carronade belted out a great cloud of smoke which at maximum range billowed back over the deck. The gunner had done Harry proud in the mix of his powder. Not only did it produce a deafening roar, but the quantity of smoke swirling around on the side of the ship gave credibility to the idea of more than one cannon being used. It was merely fortuitous that Daredevil fired off another pair of guns at the same time. The combination, with water churning about their hulls, was enough for the two Frenchmen. Both put up their helms and headed to the south, leaving Harry Ludlow a clear passage between them and the shore. Villemin fired off his signal gun repeatedly, presumably ordering them to change course and resume the engagement, all to no avail.

  As soon as the Daredevil saw the engagement being broken off, she put up her helm and set a course due north. Harry fetched her wake and they sailed out of danger in company. The two ships weren’t alone. Cutters, avisos, and even wherries had put off from every bay on the island, each one full with those who for their own reasons had no desire to wait and test the reputation of Victor Hugues. Once news got out every island in the Virgin group would be constructing a makeshift defence, blocking their harbours to anything other than small boats.

  The American Captain made no attempt to enter any of them; instead he used up nearly the whole of the day heading for the lee of Tortola. Having found a secluded bay, he anchored there. Harry did likewise. By the time he secured himself fore and aft, a boat had pulled off from Daredevil carrying his rescuer over to meet him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘DAMNED if I knew where I was,’ said Pollock. ‘Didn’t even know I was aboard a ship till the sun woke me.’

  His normally ruddy face was pale and grey, even if it was split with a weak smile. Harry had grabbed the American as soon as he came aboard, enveloping him in a welcoming bear-hug. The heartfelt plea to be released had struck a chord, and when Harry looked into his friend’s eyes he could see that he was still suffering mightily from his birthday celebrations.

  ‘Pender, my compliments to the cook. Say that we require another one of his potions in double quick time.’

  ‘Aye, aye, Capt’n.’

  Harry took Pollock by the arm and led him towards his cabin. As they passed each member of the crew, he was given a hearty thanks. The Frenchmen, finally allowed on deck, were more restrained, but they also showed a proper level of gratitude for his timely intervention.

  ‘Hell’s teeth, Harry,’ Pollock whispered. ‘What are they doing aboard?’

  ‘That’s not just a French fleet attacking St Croix. They say it’s Victor Hugues, Oliver. I could hardly leave them and their fortune to him.’

  ‘Fortune?’

  ‘Another time,’ said Harry, hurriedly, looking anxiously into Pollock’s grey face to see if his slip of the tongue had really registered.

  His French passengers were indeed in possession of a fortune, the proceeds of a period of successful buccaneering in the Caribbean. Harry had avoided the temptation to relieve them of their money. This was partly due to the circumstances in which they’d acquired it, but more out of respect for their Captain, who’d lost his life fighting his own countrymen. His arrival had been every bit as timely as that of the Daredevil, though he’d taken a more positive role in the action, an act which Harry knew had saved Bucephalas from certain destruction. He had accepted their offer to pay for his repairs as well as their own, and watched with satisfaction as they’d settled a decent sum on Nathan Caufield, who, trading illegally into the West Indies, had through no fault of his own become one of their victims. Their heavy treasure chest now sat out of sight in Harry’s sleeping quarters. While it had been aboard the Ariadne, its presence had been a carefully guarded secret, one that they’d all tried hard to keep from the realms of gossip. Judging by Pollock’s mystification, they’d been successful.

  ‘Let’s get you sat down, before you fall down.’

  The American responded to Harry’s solicitous tone. Pender entered bearing the steaming tankard. Poll
ock’s suspicions were similar to those of Harry and Caufield, and lacking the element of danger it took a great deal more pressure to get him to drink it. But he complied eventually, taking half a dozen reluctant gulps. Slowly, as he talked, the colour returned to his cheeks, making him look like a human being instead of a corpse. Judging by his endless yawning, he was a very tired man.

  ‘Two of the Daredevil’s crew laid some crayfish baskets last week. They were heading out to check on them when they were nearly run down by a Hanseatic trader. He’d spied the Frenchies’ topsails at dusk and was heading out of the area for safety. By the time their Captain got the information I was dead to the world. They didn’t even try to wake me, just loaded me aboard and weighed anchor.’

  ‘They didn’t think to tell anyone else?’ said James.

  ‘So it seems,’ Pollock replied, though he had the good grace to blush at their lack of regard for the inhabitants of St Croix. ‘Naturally when I came to I insisted that we return. When we saw those two brigs with their guns run out, then you with that frigate on your tail, firing off a salvo seemed the only neighbourly thing to do.’

  ‘Without hitting anything,’ added Harry.

  The American just grinned. ‘Damned right, Harry. We aimed to miss and thank God we did. Can’t go starting a war with the French now, can I? Wouldn’t be right after what they did for us in ’78.’

  ‘And if they hadn’t sheered off?’

  ‘Don’t rightly know, friend. But I can tell you this. Cabot, the Daredevil’s Captain, was loath to risk his ship in any way whatever, and I lacked the will to force him.’

  ‘You did enough, Oliver. We’d have been taken without your intervention.’

  There were holes in the tale and all present, including Pollock, knew it. As an American he had nothing to fear from an attack by anyone, including the French, who would always take care never to wound the pride of a potential ally against Britain. In fact, thinking about it now, there were gaps in everything to do with Oliver Pollock. A man who claimed to be in trade but seemed singularly disinclined to do any, who sailed in an armed barque not a merchant vessel. But only a churl would have the gall to speak when Pollock’s actions, however confined, had just saved them from the wrath of Victor Hugues.