COURTENAY AND THE MERCENARIES
Copyright Brian Withecombe 2018
COURTENAY AND THE MERCENARIES
by
BRIAN WITHECOMBE
As always, to my Maureen for her constant encouragement.
Also available in Kindle format by the same Author.
Giles Courtenay adventures
The Claymore
Courtenay and the Seagull
The Seagull and LeCorsair
Aphrodite’s Quest
Amazon at the Nile
The Winged Avenger
HMS Pegasus
The Greek Warrior
The Return of the Warrior
The Scotsman
Argyll’s Flag
The Bulldog Breed
Tempest
Tempest in the East Indies
Tempest and the Guerrillas
Courtenay’s Pendant
An Admiral of the Blue
Courtenay’s Mission
Chris Metcalfe Stories
CID Algarve – Metcalfe’s Challenge
CID Algarve – Café Culture
CID Algarve – A Lawyer’s End
CID Algarve – The Forty Thieves
War
At the Eleventh Hour
Von Steifenberg’s Legacy
Humour
Sergeant’s Law
Available in Paperback through Amazon
The Claymore
Courtenay and the Seagull
The Seagull and LeCorsair
Aphrodite’s Quest
Amazon at the Nile
The Winged Avenger
HMS Pegasus
CID Algarve – Metcalfe’s Challenge
At the Eleventh Hour
ONE
Balathia. A smallish Kingdom on the west coast of equatorial Africa, some one thousand miles south of Freetown. A pleasant, for the most part quiet land of a little over two thousand square miles, ruled over by a King who had spent many, many years trying to improve the living conditions and lives of the people he ruled. The country was rich in its exports of copra and fruit, with good trading relations with a number of European countries, particularly Great Britain. By far the largest of its exports, and the main reason for its prosperity, was diamonds. It boasted two diamond mines, one open-cast, the other underground.
Today was like any other day. The sky was a deep azure blue, the sea along its hundred mile-plus coastline warm and blue, slightly turquoise in shallower areas. Along the coastline were a number of small villages which owed their relative comfort to the fishing industry they enjoyed. The inhabitants of the village called Mongkela were beginning their day as they began every other day. Wives were up and about, preparing breakfast for their families. Children were being readied to attend the small village school which had been set up by Missionaries a few years before. Husbands were going down to the shoreline to check their nets and to start to prepare their boats for another day’s fishing. All was as it should be.
Visitors to the village were not common, but at the same time, not rare either. Often, a passing merchantman would drop anchor and send a boat inshore to bargain for some fresh fish or fruit, and on occasion, for water. The village had a well which provided plenty of fresh drinking water. However, all those visitors came in peace, and indeed, friends were made with some merchant captains who made regular visits.
The visitors today however were somewhat different. They came in a smallish ship, although the brighter men among the fishermen noticed that its appearance was slightly different to the ones they usually saw. There appeared to be parts of the sides of the ship which looked like small doors. Also, normally only one or perhaps two boats would pull ashore, whereas this time, there were four, and they all appeared to be full of men. Armed men. The ship showed no colours and was painted in a dark blue colour with no relieving hue.
Some of the fishermen started to grow anxious and moved back from the shoreline towards the small cluster of huts on the edge of the jungle line. Ayo, which in Swahili means joy, was a little brighter than the others and immediately sensed the approaching boats and men did not mean good news. He raced back up the shelving beach yelling at the top of his voice for the villagers to leave their homes and disappear into the jungle. That had happened in the past, when men had come looking for slaves, but not for some time. The Royal Navy kept up anti-slavery patrols which had helped to a small extent and also there were some British soldiers at a small trading post, but that was many miles away. The King had a small army also, but no soldiers were here. They were elsewhere, guarding the diamond mines.
Now all the villagers were looking at Ayo and then at the approaching boats. The other men were now also racing back up the beach, yelling to their own families, waving their arms in their frantic efforts to get them to move.
The four boats grounded on the sand at the sea’s edge and Ayo turned briefly as there was an explosion from one of them and suddenly one of his friends, who had run down to speak with him, dropped to the sand with a large hole in his stomach. Blood spread around him and soaked into the golden sand. Ayo raced on, still yelling, and now there was a popping sound. He knew this was the sound of muskets firing, because he had once seen a demonstration of a musket being fired when he was at the capital, Bimara. He looked back for a moment, aghast, at his friend, then ran on, waving to his family to run for their lives.
A number of the villagers were slow to grasp what was happening to their peaceful village and died as musket fire reached out for them. Ayo reached his family’s hut and saw his mother, younger brother and grandfather looking anxiously at the scene which was unfolding. Some of the villagers who had weapons, generally their spears, ran to attack the men from the sea, and died as muskets marked them down. Women were screaming, children crying. Ayo grabbed his mother and brother and pushed them towards the jungle. His grandfather was old and infirm and unable to walk without help. Ayo pushed his mother and brother towards the treeline and then spun around as the screams from the women grew louder. The men from the sea were grabbing some of the women who had not reacted quickly enough and before his eyes, they were thrown to the sand and brutally raped.
There was a cry from his mother, who was standing with a hand over her face, and when Ayo looked back, there was a man with an evil grin on his dirty face, hefting a wicked-looking sword which he knew was called a cutlass. He was clad in dirty clothing and Ayo could smell him from yards away. The man grinned more widely, and ran forward, raising the cutlass to cut Ayo down. Instead of shrinking away, Ayo knew the best form of defence was to attack, even though he was empty-handed, so he ran towards the man as fast as he could and was underneath the man’s right arm as it came down with the cutlass. He twisted and got hold of the man’s right arm, then kicked the man, very hard, between his legs. The man dropped his weapon, gasping for breath and making meaningless sounds from his mouth, then looked up as he realised the man he was attacking had his cutlass. That was the last thing he saw as the cutlass flashed down and slashed into his throat. Blood fountained over the man and Ayo, who held onto the blood-stained weapon, looked around and then herded his mother and brother into the jungle. He had already decided on a place in the event something happened which had now come to pass, but he doubted the men from the sea would be interested in following the villagers into the jungle. In such a place, the villagers had the upper hand. They knew the area, the men from the sea did not. As soon as he was sure his mother and brother were safe, he returned to the jungle’s edge and then made his way cautiously to his family’s hut. He found his grandfather outside, his throat slit from ear to ear. He looked around the side of the hut and saw the men who had not managed to get away being k
illed, one by one. The women were still being abused and raped. Their screams rent the air and he knew that when the men from the sea were finished with them, the women would be either be killed as well, or they would be taken for slaves. He wondered just for a moment why this had happened, when they were a peaceful race, then answered his own question. Had they not been a peaceful race, the chances were high the men from the sea would not have attacked in the way they did.
Within the next thirty minutes, all the huts were ablaze and the men from the sea had returned to it. All the women had been killed and were left with their dead menfolk. The village had ceased to exist. He drew back further into the jungle, found his mother and brother and silently led them to the place he had found where they could hide in safety, although the chances were the men from the sea would not return. The question remained in his mind however, why did the men from the sea not take the men and women they had caught as slaves? He had heard rumours from a neighbouring country that many men, women and children had been taken from their country and sold into slavery. He sat very quietly that night, as his mother and brother slept, and thought as to what he should do. As dawn came, after checking that the men from the sea had truly gone, he roused his family and told them what they would do, as he was the man of the family, his father having drowned the year before. Ayo vowed the men from the sea would pay for their crimes.
Two months later, Vice-admiral Baron Giles Courtenay of St Marychurch, in the County of Devon, was enjoying a late breakfast with his wife, Jessica, when he heard the rattle of harness outside the London house where the family was living at the moment and then the knock at the front doors which told him a message was about to be delivered. Jessica saw him look up as he heard the noises, and smiled to herself as she watched him struggle with whether he should get up from his chair and look out of the window to see who was calling, or remain calm until one of the maids came to report, as he would put it.
Jessica, Lady Courtenay looked searchingly at her husband as he did his best to remain calm, because she knew that he was hoping this might be a summons from the Admiralty to see Lord Maltravers which might in turn lead to an appointment for him at sea. She had been blessed with having him home for several months following the Battle of Algiers as it had become known and which had taken place the previous August, 1816. They had alternated their time between their homes in London and Tor Quay, but she knew Giles would dearly love a sea-going appointment again and which were rare for a man of his rank since Britain was now supposed to be at peace with the world, or at least, most of it. But she knew him to be a man of action, which was how they had come to meet on a wild shore in Africa where her and her family had been cast ashore by a merchant captain who had turned out to be a slaver. Giles had commanded the frigate Aphrodite and had come to their rescue. Although she would hate to be parted from him again, she knew that was what he yearned for again and she had always supported him in his chosen career.
They both turned as there was a knock at the door of the breakfast room and one of the maids came in with an envelope on a silver tray. One look at the canvas envelope which had the Admiralty seal said it all. The maid was close to tears because she had been with the household for many years, and knew only too well what it could mean. Jessica Courtenay, being the type of person she was, took the maid’s hand and patted it. “It is all right Kate, Lord Maltravers probably just wishes to have luncheon with my husband.”
“Aye, Miss Jessica, if you says so.” She dabbed her eyes, curtsied and fled, no doubt to report to Alex Trafford, Courtenay’s trusted coxswain and friend, and who lived within the household. In fact Trafford had already heard of the envelope being delivered and was waiting outside the breakfast room, ready for anything.
Courtenay ripped open the envelope and read the single sheet of paper inside, then he looked at his wife and smiled. “Maltravers wants to have a discussion with me about something that has just arisen. I am asked to attend on him this afternoon.”
Jessica smiled. “A mite different to when you were a Captain dearest. Then you would have been directed to attend upon him. Now you are asked to do so!”
“Yes, I suppose that is one of the privileges of Flag-rank! I will have a word with Alex about getting the carriage ready.”
“If I know Alex Trafford, he is outside the door of this room waiting for instructions.”
“H’mm. Knows me too well, that one.”
Shortly after lunchtime, Courtenay was being shown into the office occupied by Admiral Lord Maltravers. He had succeeded Courtenay’s old mentor and friend, Admiral Lord Crompton, whom Courtenay had met in Antigua when in command of his old sloop-of-war Seagull, shortly after Crompton died. The two had become friends, and Maltravers had kept up Crompton’s habit of some glasses of claret, seated around a small table close to a roaring fire. The fire was still there for despite it being April in the year 1817, it was a mite too chilly for comfort. At least that was what Philip Maltravers told himself. Others, less charitable, said it was old age.
“Giles my boy, how are you? I trust Jessica is well?”
“Yes sir, she is and sends her warmest regards.”
“Come come Giles, we have got beyond the formality, you and I, have we not? Do the usual, there is a good chap.”
They sat down and Courtenay reached for the finely cut crystal glass decanter and poured two glasses of claret. He raised his glass to Maltravers and looked at him over the rim, smiling slightly as he did so. “Now then, Philip, we only lunched a short while ago at your club, and an excellent one it was at that, so can I guess this is business and not just a friendly chat?”
Maltravers put his glass down and sighed. “Come with me a moment Giles.” He rose and walked over to a wall from which a number of charts were hung. He pulled down one which showed the continent of Africa and picked up a pointer, using it to indicate a particular part of it, in the equatorial area of the west coast. “Ever hear of a country called Balathia Giles?”
“H’mm, I think so. Let me see. From where you have indicated, I would guess it is something like 1000 miles from Freetown. Tell me more?”
“Of course. Balathia is a small Kingdom, ruled by King Khalfani . Swahili seems to be one of the languages of his country. He is married and from all accounts seems to be a good ruler. He has done a lot to improve his country. The main town, capital if you like, is called Bimara, and sits on the north bank of the river of the same name, roughly here. We have a trade mission there, with a new Colonial Officer supposedly in charge, but there is another man there who actually does all the work. We have some soldiers there, men who are used to the climate, and the King does have a small army of his own, but they are used for something which is not only far more important to him, but to the British Government as well. You see, Giles, aside from exporting such products as copra and fruit, Balathia also exports something a lot more important and rich. Diamonds. It has two mines, one opencast and one underground. The King is very disposed to us at the present time and indeed, HMG has agreed to make Balathia a, ah, Protectorate. It seems he has resisted in the past blandishments from the French. From what we have heard, he did not take to the French who came to visit him. The Church has had missionaries in the country for many years, so there are quite a few people, including the King and Queen and the Government Ministers, who speak English. HMG has invested a lot of money in the country to assist with the mining of the diamonds and naturally is keen to protect its interests.” He held up a hand. “I know you have a lot of questions to ask Giles, but let me finish first of all. You see the river? Well, I am told it is navigable for some distance after the Capital for a vessel such as a brig, although a schooner could probably reach further inland. The King has invested in some luggers to transport the ore to Bimara, where it is loaded onto larger ships. There is even a rumour he has heard of these steam-powered ships which are appearing and is intending to invest in one! Whatever next!” He paused to drank some water from a glass on his desk. “The country i
s a peaceful one Giles, and the King seems to be a good man. He cares for his people, but just recently, some odd things have been happening about which he, and the Government’s man there, are very worried. Two months ago, a small fishing village was attacked. A few managed to get away into the jungle, but the rest were killed, the women having been raped first. Then, two weeks later, there was another raid when some men worked their way further inland, and this time they simply took the whole village, it was thought for slavery.”
“That would not be unusual. Cannot Freetown help? Stupid question Philip, it might as well be on the Moon!”
“Just so. However, they were not taken for slavery, but as hostages, and the King has been told he will find out what the ransom is, probably about now.”
“Odd, to say the least?”
“That is why the King and the Government man there are so worried.”
“Not the ‘Colonial Officer?”
“If I told you that the Agent is a certain Marmaduke Spencer-White, does that answer your question?”
“How the blazes did he get the job?”
“Somehow he got back into Colonial Service, but they got rid of him to Balathia, before all this happened. We only found out so quickly because a messenger brig put in there with a despatch from the Cape and then hurried on to Gib and Portsmouth. The news was telegraphed from there.”
“Can I guess how I come into this? You wish me to go and discover what is going on and protect HMG’s investment, is that it?”
“You always were very perceptive Giles, that is what makes you such a good Flag-officer. Yes, that is what I wish you to do. You will have three frigates, a brig and a schooner, but, because HMG is keen to show to the King how important this is to it, aside from sending you of course, we must also put on a show of strength, so you will raise your flag in Alexander,98. She was completed not that long before Waterloo, and has never fired a shot in anger. However, although fairly new, she is of the old design, since her keel was laid before the new one was approved by the Admiralty.”
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