Agent Provocateur

by Christopher C Tubbs

  Consequently, the Snipe and her big sister, the Sloop Alouette, were now making sail south down the channel with full Navy crews. In fact, there were still a number of Deal boys on the roster, but they had been signed up as volunteers and now counted as Navy.

  The plan was to sail down to the cape then reconnoitre Madagascar, the surrounding islands and African coast, see where the pirate bases were, then posing as French privateers infiltrate them and try and make the connection with French government sponsorship. Whether they made the connection or not, they were to either destroy those bases or come up with a plan where they could be destroyed with the help of local Navy assets.

  Once they had done all that, they could go home.

  Marty was down in his cabin putting away the extra things that Caroline had made him take with him. Included was a sash with the emblems of his barony pinned to it in case he had to attend a formal function. That got put in the bottom of his chest wrapped in tissue paper. There was also a portrait of her, which he put on the wall of his cabin where he could see it when he was at his desk. Other items were stowed in his desk or in the small dresser.

  She had also gotten a ton of personal stores sent down from London, including bottled preserves, jars of butter, hams, bacon, rounds of cheese, jam and a host of dried and salted foods.

  They also had a new surgeon’s mate on the Snipe to go with a new Surgeon on the Alouette. These gentlemen were also onboard as a result of Caroline’s intervention.

  Bleaz was curled up on his blanket and was sporting a rather savage-looking spiked collar that Marty’s brother Arthur had made him. Arthur was now a fully qualified Smith and had his own forge thanks to Marty’s sponsorship. Marty was quietly setting up all his siblings and their families in new businesses to get them away from the mines, and he had plans to buy farms in the Purbeck area and run them in a much more modern way. But first, he needed to get this mission done.

  His birthday came around for the eighteenth time, and he celebrated it by giving the crew a double rum ration and having a celebratory dinner with his midshipman, cox, and quartermaster. There wasn’t enough room in his cabin for any more, so he also donated some of his personal stores to making sure the crew had a good meal as well.

  They sailed South, or as close as they could with the prevailing winds, passed the straights of Heracles, and down to the coast of Morocco. They continued down to the Portuguese island of Cape Verde where they re-watered and stocked up on fruit and vegetables. Marty and Armand were disgusted by evidence of the slave trade that they saw. The islands had been a staging point for slavers for years and nothing had changed.

  Marty was intrigued by the changes in the climate and the way the clouds formed and changed over the day. He made extensive notes on every aspect of the voyage so he could use them on later ones. He also wrote about them in extended sea letters to his wife, mother, and Miss Kate.

  The days dragged on, and Marty started teaching some of the hands who wanted to learn to read and write. Midshipman Campbell joined in and soon, they had quite a school going. For those that didn’t want to learn to read or didn’t feel able to learn, he would sit in the evenings on the capstan and read to them from a collection of books he had brought with him.

  He didn’t know it, but he was bonding his crew to him in a way that most captains never did. They respected him and would follow him to hell and back if he asked them without even asking why. His hard-core team of the four Basques, Wilson, Tom, and John Smith were always there ready to help, care for Blaez (and clean up after him), and keep the rest of crew in line. They were his unofficial enforcers, and everybody knew it.

  They approached the equator and as was tradition, the old salts who had crossed it before asked permission to honour Neptune and celebrate the crossing by initiating the first timers. Marty said yes then realised he was a potential initiate as well.

  What can only be described as a canvas lined pool was erected on deck and filled with sea water. At one end, a throne was made from spare wood and decorated with seaweed and seashells. (The Lord only knew where they got the shells). A platform was erected opposite the throne and also decorated. Several covered buckets were placed around it.

  On the day they crossed the line, Tom Savage appeared dressed as Neptune in a toga made from material scrounged from the slops store, seaweed wig and a large triton. He was escorted by four handmaidens, who were the Basques dressed as girls, also with seaweed wigs. In a loud and commanding voice, he announced,

  “Hear ye all! For tis I, lord Neptune, king of the sea, come to collect my tribute from those virgins who aint crossed the line afore.” – A roar from the crew - “My beautiful handmaidens!” – cat calls and whistles – “Bring forth the initiates!” A half a dozen men were brought forward all naked apart from a loincloth and pushed forward onto the platform. With a start, Marty recognised James Campbell and wondered how the hell they had talked him into this.

  The first of the initiates was led to the front of the platform by two of the ‘handmaidens’. He was grabbed and the third dipped into bucket that they could now see was full of mush, fat from the boiled beef. He liberally smeared the victim with the foul-smelling grease then delved in another bucket and smeared him with soot.

  The next victim was pushed forward, it was James. He was grabbed and greased, but this time they grabbed a handfuls of feathers from a third bucket and he had them poured over him. The other two faired no better.

  When they were all suitably covered, Tom stood, shook his Trident in the air, and roared.

  “Pay homage to the king of the ocean, you swabs!”

  And his handmaidens knocked out the forward supports to the platform allowing it to tip forward and dunk the initiates in the water. That was the signal for the rest of the crew to pelt them with wet rags and buckets of water.

  Marty let the mayhem continue for a few minutes and watched it spread across the deck until almost everyone had received a soaking. Blaez was watching beside him and was barking furiously at the fun.

  He decided enough was enough and signalled to Tom to put a stop to it just as a badly aimed bucket of water caught him full in the chest. The thrower stood with his mouth agape and looked as if he wished the sea would swallow him up! But Marty just grinned and pushed him into the pool.

  Tom had a hard time yelling for order because he was laughing fit to bust a rib.

  Blaez sat beside Marty looking bemused as half the water had hit him too.

  Finally, order was restored. Marty quietly ‘requested’ that they put his ship back into order and then went to his cabin to get a change of clothes.

  Once past the equator, they steered Southeast to make landfall somewhere on the West coast just North of the Cape. They got lucky and didn’t find the doldrums, but they did experience some truly huge rollers that had the whole of the Atlantic to build up.

  They made landfall and turned south to follow the coast. They had long before run out of fresh food and were digging into the salt beef and pork stowed deep in the hold, but they knew they weren’t far from Cape Town so kept going.

  Cape Town was held by the British in 1800, so it was a safe place to launch their campaign in Madagascar.

  They arrived in the middle of May after being at sea for 10 weeks. The crew and ships were tired and needed a break. They dropped anchor in the bay in the lee of Robin Island while they waited for a pilot to bring them into the docks.

  When they finally moored, Armand and Marty went ashore to pay their respects to the Port Admiral.

  Vice Admiral Sir Roger Curtis was deeply embittered by his perceived exile to Cape Town and when two young officers were shown into his office and one of them was obviously French, his temper flared.

  “Your credentials had better be bloody perfect or I will have you in my brig faster than you can say Bonaparte,” he growled.

  Armand handed over his orders and a letter from the first sea lord and waited.

  Sir Roger read the orders and then the
letter and looked at Armand then at Marty.

  “Lord Candor?”

  Marty winced and replied, “Aye, sir. But I prefer plain Lieutenant Stockley.”

  He kept his eyes straight ahead aware that Sir Roger outranked him in the Navy but now knew he was outranked socially. Not what Marty wanted.

  “Working undercover, posing as privateers, secret missions? Whose Navy do you work for?”

  “That is secret and on a need to know basis only,” said Armand.

  Sir Roger looked them over one more time, tempted to rip into Armand for that comment but then thinking that if these two had the ear of the first sea lord…

  “Take a seat and tell me what you need,” he said.

  Chapter 13: The Madagascar Caper

  They took a few days to rest the men and get both ships into first class condition again. They took on as many fresh stores as they could and cleaned and refilled all of their water barrels.

  Marty and Armand sent the men into the town to get some shore leaves and to try and gather any information about piracy in the area that they could find. It turned out to be not much. So, as soon as they could, they set off again.

  There wasn’t much between Cape Town and Madagascar in terms of settlements. In fact, most of the East coast wasn’t even surveyed properly. So, they decided to take a cruise and see what they could find.

  It took ten days to sail up into the straights between Madagascar and the mainland. They found a bay with good shelter and fresh water at around the same latitude as the southern end of the island. It showed signs of being used by someone as there were old fire pits and piles of bones from something that looked a bit like a deer. It was as good a base as any, so they set up camp there.

  Marty took the snipe and started scouting up the coast, and Armand went to have a look at Madagascar itself.

  The Snipe was making good time as she cruised North. They had looked into every inlet and bay but saw nothing of interest. Then as the coast swung Northeast they came upon a chain of islets with a long golden beach behind on the mainland.

  Marty reduced sail and took his time. He wanted the leisure to look at every one and mark them on his growing map. They eventually came up on an inlet that looked like the entrance was protected by a sandbar running from the Southern edge to the Northeast. A Natural harbour. Marty steered them in closer and had two men in the bow checking the depth with lead lines.

  They felt their way up to the sand bar and ran along it until they could see into the inlet to the Northwest. There, sat on a promontory between what could be two rivers, was a village and moored up around it were around a dozen sleek looking, single masted boats. Dhows, Marty thought.

  Marty had the French flag run up and they hove-to. He told the men to arm themselves and look privateer-ish. It didn’t take long for one of the boats by the village to be crewed and start out.

  Marty watched them come through a telescope and noted that while most of the crew were half-naked black natives, there were two men at the stern who looked more like the men he had seen in North Africa. They were dressed in flowing robes and were lighter skinned.

  On a whim, he had a canvas chair set up on the quarter deck under the awning they had set to protect the helmsman from the sun. He ordered the carronades covered as he wanted their strength concealed and to appear a French ship.

  The boat came up to their side, and the two Arabic men stepped up on the deck. Marty set two of his men to study the boat, its rigging, any armament, and capacity. One was a fair sketch and would make drawings for later reference.

  Marty received the men lounging in his chair with Blaez next to him. He was armed with his knife and Campbell’s sabre as it looked more impressive than his hanger.

  The two men were dressed in black robes synched at the waist by a sash, from which hung long curved, richly decorated knives on one side and large curved swords with wide blades on the other. Their heads were covered in a cloth that wrapped around in such a way as to leave a loop below the chin.

  Marty studied them as they approached. The smaller one had a pocked-marked face with a prominent hooked nose. The other had darker skin, an almost equine nose, long and straight, and high cheekbones.

  They stopped in front of him and touched their right hands to their hearts, mouths, and foreheads in some kind of salute. Marty nodded back and said in French,

  “I am Cecile De Borcey, captain of this ship, and you are?”

  The smaller of the two said in perfect French,

  “Ahmed Bahri, and my associate is Fahd Kamara. We are his eminence, the Sultan of Morocco’s, representatives in this area.”

  That’s interesting, thought Marty as he knew Morocco was a French Colony.

  “Then I am pleased if you are able to pass my respects and greetings to his highness,” Marty replied.

  “We are intrigued as to what the purpose of your visit is, Captain? We were not expecting a visit from a representative of the French Government at this time.”

  Marty took that in and interpreted it as they were expecting a visit at a later time. He decided to stir things up.

  “Oh, I am not from the government. They are in confusion since Napoleon Bonaparte took over and are still running around like headless chickens.”

  He saw a flicker of – something – in Ahmed’s face. Surprise?

  “So, what is your mission here?” Fahd asked.

  “We are privateers,” Marty stated, “We have come to try our luck against the Roast-beefs East India men. We have a letter of marque from the French Ministry giving us permission to operate in this area.”

  Hook cast, Marty thought.

  There was no mistaking the look of anger that passed over both men’s faces at that.

  Bait taken.

  “But eminent, Captain, we have an agreement with the Government for exclusive…” started Ahmed before Fahd grabbed his arm and drew him away.

  I bet he was going to say exclusive rights, thought Marty.

  They came back, and Ahmed looked calmer.

  “We have an agreement with the Revolutionary Government of France with respect to defending their interest in this area,” he stated.

  “Ahh, I see the problem then,” Marty sighed almost in regret. “The revolutionary government is no longer in charge. Napoleon is now in command. The revolution is over.” He pointed at them. “Your agreement is no longer valid!”

  Let’s see how you like that! He thought.

  The two of them had a heated exchange in some other language then both turned to Marty and touched their heart, mouths, and head and Fahd said,

  “We will verify what you say with our master. May we offer you the hospitality of our humble village while we wait for an answer?”

  Oh no you don’t! Marty smiled inwardly. I weren’t born yesterday!

  “I would normally jump at the chance.” He smiled but then held out his hands in a ‘what can I do?’ gesture and added,

  “But I have information that the illustrious East India Company has ships coming this way soon, and I intend to make some money while I can. Now, I am sure I have detained you long enough,” he said in dismissal.

  The two men genuflected again and turned away, still talking rapidly in that foreign language, and as soon as their boat cleared the side, he made the order to get under way. He ordered all plain sail as he figured this wouldn’t be a healthy place for much longer.

  They sailed West until they dropped below the horizon then turned to the south to make their way back to base.

  Marty was at their base camp for two days before Armand arrived. They got together on the beach at sunset and discussed what they had found.

  Armand had identified the main port where the pirates on the island were operating from and made contact with the locals. He was just about to leave when a dhow had come racing into the harbour. They had stuck around then to see what had happened. It didn’t take long when a horde of men had boiled out of the town, boarded boats, and started towards the
m.

  To say the least, they got the hell out of there as fast as they could.

  Marty told him of their encounter and his conversation with the ‘emissaries’.

  “You stirred up the bee’s nest,” stated Armand.

  “Hornet’s nest,” Marty corrected him.

  “It looks like they haven’t had any contact with the French government for some time,” he added, “Our arrival and that bluff have shaken things up a treat!”

  “Yes my young friend, your instinct for making trouble has paid dividends, and now we need to make things even more chaotic.”

  “What do you have in mind,” Marty asked.

  Two days later, the two ships were running North towards the inlet where Marty had met the emissaries of the Sultan. They were hoping the pirates would come out and they could surprise them with their firepower, so they made no attempt to conceal themselves and flew the French Tricolour from their masts.

  “Loud and Proud.” as Marty put it.

  He had his crew relaxing, but nobody was fooled, they all knew that all hell could break loose at any time. All their weapons were in prime condition despite the damp atmosphere. Not a spot of rust on a blade or in a barrel. Marty had checked every man, and he knew they were as ready for a fight as they could be. A couple were below being treated for sickness, but it wasn’t anything that frightened the surgeon’s mate, so he was confident they were ready for anything.

  As they approached the chain of islets, the lookouts on the Alouette could be heard hailing the deck. A couple of minutes later. his own lookouts were calling down.

  “DECK THERE! A WHOLE LOAD OF SAIL DEAD AHEAD.”

  Marty had expected that they would face all twelve boats that they had seen around the village. But when he went up the rat lines to look for himself, he got a bit of a shock! There must have been twenty from the fast Dhows that he had seen to a couple of big Zebecs. They were in for the fight of their lives!