Courtenay and the Mercenaries

by Brian Withecombe

  “This man Peron,” replied Fenwick, sipping from a refilled glass. “he was, as many of these renegades are, a former Spanish Naval officer. It seems he had quite a good reputation, although he was even more cruel than a lot of his kind were, and not a favourite at Court. Some of his enemies conspired to have him dismissed from the service, so he responded with some of his loyal men by engineering a mutiny and taking command of the frigate Senora de Fuentes. She is a 38-gunner. After that, he, the ship and her crew disappeared, but from what I have heard they kept re-appearing on various different places. Anywhere this man can make a living. Slavery, smuggling, you name it, he does it.”

  “Well, he appears to have added ‘mercenary’ to the list. However, I doubt that he would have used his own ship, despite the fact we were not around at the time. Unfortunately I did not have the time to obtain the name of the Spaniard I killed.”

  “The problem is Giles that no-one is likely to return to collect these people whilst we are here.” pointed out James Fenwick.

  “That is true, but we can be certain they are watching, from afar what we are doing and we must assume that if they have suborned one man, there may be others, who are probably watching us even as we speak. However,” Courtenay dragged out the word and Fenwick sighed, because his friend was also rubbing the scar on his cheek, and he half-turned as he heard a short laugh from the other side of the cabin where Trafford was busy cleaning Courtenay’s sword, “however, what would they do to get their men back if they saw us sail away on some errand eh? The frigates are away patrolling the coastline, just leaving us here to guard the door so as to speak, but if we were to up-pick and sail off out of sight, this chap Peron might be inclined to try to recover his men.”

  “In other words, you are going to set a trap for him?”

  “I doubt it will be him. He may have other vessels at his disposal, and what he really needs is something fast and handy..”

  “Like a schooner or a brig.”

  “Yes.”

  “Very well, how do we do this?”

  “I will go ashore tomorrow and speak to Captain Horrocks and Peter Minter. I will tell them we were able to obtain some useful information from the men we captured and that we are going to act on the information obtained, which will mean us being away for a few days. If there is a spy in the camp, so as to speak, he or she will find out, and there is bound to be a way in which messages are passed. I daresay one of the local fishermen has been bribed to act as a courier. We will allow a couple of days then return after it is dark. If the meeting point is to the south of the Bimara then it will be, as you have pointed out, towards the end of the channel. We will sail in a circle, wind permitting, and come in at the end of that channel. I will write orders for Commander Pountney that he is to anchor near the head of the river and if he sees a blue rocket, that is the sign for the fact we have found a ship and he is to then set sail and block the river end of the channel.”

  “Another one of your simple plans Giles?” said Fenwick smiling.

  “Well, you know what I always say James,” said Courtenay smiling, “The best ones always are. Less to go awry!” He looked out of the sternlights to where the sunken schooner could be seen. “What did Mr Harvey have to say about Dolphin? “

  “He is of the view she can be saved, hopefully. He will today be sending some men onto the schooner at low tide and they are planning to haul her as far as possible onto her port side so that the shot holes in the hull beneath the waterline can be repaired to the extent she may be pumped out and refloated sufficiently to get her to the King’s docking area where she can be beached in more safety and the real repairs carried out. Minter sent a message on board to the effect that the King has made available some of his resources and among them are spare masts. Mr Skeggs, the Carpenter, is of the view that he should be able to fashion a suitable mainmast and then Mr Harvey can have it stepped. Hopefully we will have our schooner back, although we will have to find some men to man her and a new Commanding Officer.”

  “Very well, you have my permission to proceed. I wish to have our brig and the schooner patrolling the river, particularly looking out for the opencast mine workings. As to men and a new Commanding Officer, no doubt you will give some thought to that and we can discuss once we know for certain the schooner is going to be a viable proposition again.”

  Fenwick smiled, toyed with the glass again and then looked at his friend. “Job for a good Lieutenant, someone who can get used to working very closely with a small crew where there is a lot of work for everyone and where everyone has to pull together. Are you thinking of young Edward for the task? No-one would blame you if you did you know.”

  Courtenay snorted. “Yes, they would James and with very good reason! Edward is doing very well, but he has not been commissioned for very long, and he needs to learn a lot more before he would be ready for such an appointment. Thank you however for your thoughts on the matter.”

  “He is a very steady young man Giles, takes after his father of course, but I do of course take your point. I will give the matter some thought. What of the prisoners?”

  “They will remain with us until such time as we can have them transported to either Freetown or the Cape for trial.”

  “His Majesty will not be pleased!”

  “No, I have already had one difficult conversation with him on the subject, and I confess I will in the end run out of excuses to hold on to them, but we both know what will happen if he lays his hands on them.”

  “They will only hang anyway Giles, surely?”

  “Yes, but even such an end would be better than I suspect what the King will do to them. No, they stay with us. Minter will have to assist in this matter.”

  “You are the Admiral, my friend. I do not envy your position.”

  “Thank you. Very kind. I shall remind you of this conversation when your flag flies over a squadron!”

  “I doubt that will ever happen. If you will excuse me then, I will make arrangements with Mr Harvey.” He got up, nodded to Trafford, and left.

  Courtenay looked across the cabin at his cox’n. “Have I thanked you for what you did for Edward, Alex? What would have happened had you not acted so quickly I hate to think. This is something that must not pass beyond the confines of this cabin.”

  Trafford knew what he meant. Nothing was to be said to Miss Jessica! “You have thanked me sir, more than once! Everyone needs a hand at some stage.”

  “I know. Where is that rascal Kingston? Kingston, get your partner in crime here a ‘wet’ and make sure you use the good stuff!” He turned as the screen door opened and the elegant figure of his Flag-lieutenant stepped over the coaming. “Ah, there you are Flags! How is the ankle now?”

  Justin Wetherby grimaced and then said “Not too bad sir, thank you. At least I can get around now more easily, but I am still so sorry that I could not come with you when you made your foray up the Bimara. It would seem I missed some action.”

  Just a short while before Courtenay was due to leave his flagship to visit the Government post and then see the King, Wetherby had been on the quarterdeck discussing some signals with the junior Lieutenant when a seaman carrying out some work had accidentally knocked into him, causing him to trip over a bollard in such a way he damaged his ankle. The surgeon, Hector Prescot, had announced there was nothing broken, and that it was just a bad sprain, but even so it meant that the Flag-lieutenant had not been able to accompany his Admiral, a fact which rankled him considerably. The junior Lieutenant had called the seaman all the names under the sun and had threatened to have him before the Captain and have him flogged senseless for his stupidity, but Wetherby had stopped him and said it was a pure accident, even suggesting that perhaps he himself should have been looking where he was going. He had seen the young seaman since and the man had said how grateful he was for the Flag-lieutenant speaking up for him, to which Wetherby had replied “As I said, Brooker, it was an accident and nothing else.” The man had still been very gratefu
l, since had the Flag-lieutenant not spoken up, he could have been accused of striking an officer and there was only one penalty for such an offence. He would have been hanged.

  When James Fenwick had heard about it, he had smiled and nodded. Wetherby was a good hand, and a very fair officer. However, the First-lieutenant had also heard of the incident and gave the junior Lieutenant a severe dressing down for making such threats over the incident. “Imagine if Mr Wetherby had not spoken up, Mr Harrison. I would have had to have reported the matter to the Captain who doubtless would have felt duty bound to uphold your threats and given the man Brooker punishment. He would have been dancing at the grating at least and for no real reason! Stop and think first before issue threats. Brooker is an able hand, and you would have had him flogged senseless, or worse still had he been charged with striking an officer. You should have learned more when you were in the gunroom, surely?” The young officer had said nothing, but his cheeks were burning red from humiliation as he left Irvine’s cabin.

  “I am certain, Justin, that there will be plenty more action for you to see before this cruise is over!” responded Courtenay, “I would not worry too much.”

  “Will you be intending to visit the post again sir, and explain what you intend to Mr Minter and the other, ah, gentleman?” said Wetherby.

  “Yes, tomorrow morning. Will you be fit enough to accompany me?”

  “I have been away from my duties for far too long as it is sir. I shall be all right.”

  “Excellent, we will have a glass of claret whilst Trafford here is drinking my best rum.”

  Wetherby beamed. “I do not mind if I do sir!”

  Later that day, after he had been thinking hard about the best way to cut off any rescue attempt, Courtenay sent for the man who had given the information about being led back to the coast and collected by the ship which had dropped them. The man’s name was Manuel Gonzales and he was clearly worried as to the reason for being summoned before the Vice-admiral. He was about the only one of the survivors who spoke a semblance of English.

  “Now then Manuel Gonzales, can you tell me roughly when you had been expected to return to the place where you were landed?”

  “It took many days to reach the mine, Excellency, I am thinking. It was a hard walk, through much bad jungle. The Captain, he said he would return in two weeks. If we were there before him, we hide ourselves, you understand Excellency?”

  “Yes, I understand. The man who was in command of the attack. Who was he?”

  Manuel Gonzales hesitated for a moment, then said haltingly, “I do not know Excellency. I was just a humble seaman on the ship and he came aboard a little while before I was told to go with the others. We were not told his name.”

  “So where did he come aboard then?”

  “Excellency?”

  “Were you at sea, or in port?”

  “Oh, at sea. He came in another ship, the one commanded by the great Capitaine Peron.” There was a streak of defiance in the words, although when he saw Courtenay’s dark, almost black, eyes boring into him, he lowered his own eyes and looked sheepish.

  “Where at sea?”

  “I do not know the position Excellency, I am only a humble seaman.”

  “Yes, I understand that, but was it to the south, or to the north? Where?”

  “Oh, to the south. A way to the south.”

  “How long did it take you to get to where you were sent ashore?”

  “ A day and a night..”

  “Which ship were you aboard?”

  “The Majestie Exellency.”

  “Ah, Captain du Mason?”

  “Yes Excellency.”

  “Very well. Corporal? Return him to the cells.”

  The Marines Corporal took hold of the man’s arm and yanked him round. “Come on then, you heard ‘is Lordship.”

  So the plan had allowed two weeks for completion, from when the men were landed to when they were to be collected. Habib had found out also that it had taken five days to get through the jungle and reach the Bimara, so say about six days in all. Allowing for the time it had taken to return to his flagship, some eight days had elapsed since the party was put ashore. The rendezvous was therefore set for about five days’ time. Good. That allowed time for Commander Pountney to be given his orders, and for Alexander to be absent for a short while. He reasoned that any recovery ship would keep close to the coastline as it approached during daylight, so as to hide itself against the background, so if Alexander was off to seaward, they would not be likely to bump into any enemy ship.

  Justify would have to act as guardian for the time Alexander was away, but now, Horrocks had ensured that the guns he had at his disposal were in a position whereby if there were any more visits from the dark blue corvette, she would be blanketed with cannon fire from the post, as well as having to contend with Justify. Also, since he was sure the Captain of the corvette would have been informed by now, one way or another, that there were Royal Navy ships in evidence, he was certain that Majestie would not be calling again. The frigates were away, patrolling their sectors, but at the end of their patrol legs, they were in sight from the Bay so that at least two of them could be recalled if necessary.

  The following morning, Courtenay’s barge was in the water, tied up alongside Alexander’s tall side, and its Admiral was standing at the entry port having a final word with his Flag-captain. “I will not be very long James. I will tell Captain Horrocks what we are about, and also Minter, and then I shall return. I think we will perhaps then arrange to have our little cruise, eh?”

  Fenwick nodded. “Yes, should be about right. Just give whoever is to collect the raiding party time to get into position and then hopefully we can pounce!”

  “Let us hope so. Very well, until later.”

  Major Berisford, the very stiff and correct senior Marines Officer, and now the only one aboard the flagship saluted with his sword as Courtenay went through the port. As he did so, however, he stopped and looked down into the barge, then turned to Berisford. “Expecting trouble Major? In one of our own Trading Posts?”

  Berisford unbent a little to give a small smile. “One never knows in these parts sir. Better safe than sorry, what?” He had placed a party of Marines in a cutter next to the barge.

  “A kind thought. Thank you Major.” Courtenay went down into the barge to join Trafford at the tiller, and Wetherby who was on a thwart nearby. He sat down and smiled at his cox’n.

  “Shove off there! Out oars! Give way together!” The barge curved away from the ship’s side and Trafford set an easy stroke as he guided it towards the entrance of the Bimara. There was no sign of Justify since she was patrolling the river itself. The barge’s course took it close to where Dolphin was lying. There were men on her upper works, working under one of the Bosun’s mates, getting the small ship ready so that they could try to plug the shot holes in her hull sufficiently to pump out the water and float her when she would be warped into the river and hopefully up to where the King had his docking facilities and where she could be beached for better repairs to be carried out. As the barge swept towards the damaged schooner, there was a sharp command from the Bosun’s mate, and the men stopped their work, stood and doffed their hats to their Admiral. Courtenay, being the man he was, was touched by the simple gesture from men he hardly knew. He made a decision. “Alex, get us alongside the schooner.”

  Alex Trafford would have been surprised if Courtenay had not said what he had and he was ready for it, so he swung the tiller and headed for the schooner, where the Bosun’s mate in charge looked on in surprise. The barge rounded up, oars being lifted as if by a single hand. Courtenay stood, one hand on Trafford’s shoulder. “Mr Painter, is it not?”

  “Aye sir. That be me!”

  “Mr Harvey sent you to try and repair some of the shot holes has he?”

  “Aye sir. Reckon we can get temporary repairs done in the next couple o’ days, then we can pump ‘er out, like. Then we will see!”

&nbs
p; “Very well, carry on if you please Mr Painter. Try and save her if you can.”

  “The Bosun thinks we can sir, so we’ll give it our best!”

  Courtenay sat down and Trafford got the barge under way again. An hour later, Courtenay was striding up the slope to the Trading Post. He had noticed that Captain Horrocks had organised the guns he had so that they could sweep the river entrance. He just hoped that the man had not robbed the rest of the defences. A lot of people in the past had made the mistake of guarding against assault from the sea, only to find themselves being attacked from the land instead. Horrocks was waiting at the gates.

  He touched his hat. “Good morning sir.”

  “Good morning Captain.” He noticed that Horrocks was looking over his shoulder at the limping Flag-lieutenant. “You will recall my Flag-lieutenant? He has had a slight accident. “I see you have re-arranged some of your artillery Captain,” Courtenay began, “but I hope not at the expense of other parts of the compound?”

  Horrocks smiled. “No fear of that sir. Heard too many stories about being complacent that the only attack would be from the sea when in fact someone was creeping up on them from behind! I had a number of spare cannon. Never thought I would have to use ‘em, but not so sure now.”

  They walked through the compound to the residency and Peter Minter trotted down the steps from the broad porch, holding out a hand in welcome. “Good to see you again Admiral.” Minter looked on at Wetherby limping up the steps. “Bad injury Mr Wetherby?”

  “Just a bad strain sir, thank you. I am almost recovered.” said Wetherby defiantly.

  Minter raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Come into the shade and have some refreshment gentlemen.” He turned as Spencer-White came through the main doors that led into the interior of the building, wearing his usual petulant look.

  “Are you here again Courtenay? Good heavens, I would have thought you would have been scouring the seas for these damned pirates, not taking your ease here, drinking our wine!”