“Good, well done James. Come and have a look at this chart again. We know from what we were told about the collection of the attackers that the ship was going to return for them on a certain day, which means that where the ship was waiting would have been at the most, allowing for the wind of course, roughly in the area covered by this circle I have drawn. I have spoken with Mr Richardson about this and he agrees. So, the ship could not have gone further than that, and the chances are that is because somewhere inside that circle is where these mercenaries are hiding.”
“You think they are working together Giles? No doubts?” queried Fenwick.
“None. We had a Frenchman in a former French corvette go to see the King and issue scarcely veiled threats, and then that attack on the mine was by some Spaniards. No, James, they are working together, but who would be able to pull these people together?”
“The King mentioned a cousin?”
“Yes, Abdallah, I can only imagine that this man has offered both the French and the Spanish, and indeed anyone of any other nationality, vast sums of money if they successful in gaining what he wishes.”
“The country?”
“Yes. The word ‘protection’ against further attacks was put forward, but the King is no fool James, and he knows that if he agreed to their demands, they would get more and more until the final one would be that he abdicate in favour of this cousin, who seems to feel he should be King anyway.”
“Does he have any grounds for that? What does Minter have to say about it?”
“He says the claim is utter rubbish. There is no doubt that the King is the lawful one, in accordance with Balathia’s customs. If it is Abdallah, he is just after the wealth of the country.” He paused for a moment. “The King does not know where this cousin is at the moment. I said that I was of the opinion the ship in question is no more than the distance away represented by the circle I have drawn, but I doubt they are hiding anywhere to the north of us, as they might be spotted by our anti-slavery patrols out of Freetown.”
‘There are no islands out here either, so if they are hiding somewhere it has to be along the coast.”
“Yes, and to the south of Balathia. At the moment, we are restricting our frigate patrols to the coastline of Balathia, to deter any would-be attackers, but we may have to spread our net a little, to see if we can find where they might be.”
“If they are working out of another country, you would have to be careful Giles. HMG would not appreciate you causing some incident out here, especially of the country was on friendly terms with Balathia.”
“I am of course aware of that, so we will have to tread carefully and see. Now then, we are heading back towards the shore, so I am of course aware that we have been on a curving course for a while. How far away do you think we are?”
“Far enough to be out of sight and I intend to heave-to for a while just to make sure we do not arrive too early! We have not seen any other sail, and hopefully no-one has seen us, so when darkness falls we will close the land again. I hope Martin is going to be on station in time.”
“Easy James, he will be.” Courtenay sat back. “How do you find handling a second-rate? Larger than anything you have commanded in the past?”
Fenwick smiled. “She is a good sailer, I will give her that, but she has never fired a shot in anger, so time will tell.” He stopped and smiled. “I would still rather have my old Avenger back!”
“Yes. I have grown used to the lack of independence, but there is something about the freedom a frigate can give you! Sup with me this evening?”
“I would be delighted Giles!”
“Good. Now, have you a good look-out I could trust my night-glass with? When we are closing the shore I wish him to be in the mainmast cross-trees, searching for the enemy ship.”
“Yes, I believe Dodds is a good man. Shall I send him to you when we are closing the land?”
“Yes, and I will give him a few moments instruction, since I do not wish to have him confused as to how to use it when he should be looking!”
“Very well, I shall arrange it.”
On Alexander’s broad quarterdeck there was an almost eerie silence, as if the ship and its entire company were holding their breaths as they closed the land in the complete darkness. There was no moon, which would have fitted in with the plan to recover the raiding party in any event, but there was plenty of cloud cover as well, and when Courtenay saw the Sailing Master raise his head for a moment and sniff the air, he knew why. Ben Richardson, a man of tremendous experience, had smelt rain. A swift squall would provide some fresh water, not that there were not abundant supplies from ashore, but it might well hinder the look-out spotting the enemy ship. The Sailing Master lowered his head, glanced at his Admiral and nodded, because he had seen the same expression on Courtenay’s face. “Might rain sir.”
“I agree, but let us hope it does not until the enemy ship has been sighted.” Courtenay saw Fenwick, who had been staring aloft, turn to smile, then he looked back at his Sailing Master.
“How much further d’ye think Mr Richardson?” he asked.
“Not far I would guess sir. We need to keep well clear o’ that reef that sticks out from the shore.”
The ship was moving at a snail’s pace as it was, but Richardson had his route planned, and there was the man with the log and the spun yarn which told how fast the ship was travelling through the water. Speed was called back hoarsely by a chain of men, and at the moment, courses clewed up and the ship running under reefed topsails alone, she was barely making two knots. Eventually, Richardson turned to Fenwick and nodded. ‘About now sir, I reckon.”
“Very well Mr Richardson, thank you. Mr Irvine? Heave-to if you please.”
The ship came to a stop and all eyes turned towards the mainmast cross-tress where the look-out named Dodds had Courtenay’s night-glass and had started to study where the shore was ahead and the rough bearing he had been given as to the head of the channel, as it was thought the ship collecting the raiding party was hardly likely to place itself right in the channel. Strict silence had bene ordered and to this end, there were men stationed on the ratlines between the cross-tress and the deck to pass on any sighting reports. And so they waited. And waited. Wetherby, concerned that Dodds might not have got the hang of how to use the night-glass, had even taken himself aloft to ensure the man was not missing anything, but he was not. Courtenay had explained carefully and slowly how the instrument functioned and Dodds had grasped it immediately. When he had gone aloft, the glass slapping his back on its strap as he climbed, one of Richardson’s mates had commented, apparently to no-one in particular, “Good man that. Wasted as a look-out.” Both Courtenay and Fenwick had smiled at such a remark, but when Wetherby returned to the deck, he had to agree there was nothing wrong with the way the look-out was keeping watch.
In the end, Courtenay looked for the umpteenth time at his Hunter watch, then snapped the lid shut, commenting, “Well, gentlemen, I doubt he is coming now, because according to my calculations it will be light in just about one and a half hours. That would mean he would be cutting it rather fine to do a pick-up and then beat out of sight before dawn, and he would wish to be well away from this coastline by then, knowing our ships are present. What say you Captain?”
“I agree sir. It would certainly appear he will not here now, and shortly, we should not be either, since we have given the impression we have sailed off somewhere. What message did you ask be passed to the King again?”
“Oh, I just Mr Minter to say we were going for a patrol along the coast since it seemed all quiet now, and in any case, our brig was there and Captain Horrocks had reinforced the artillery at the post.”
“You do not trust the King?” Fenwick said very quietly.
“It is not that James. There may be people in his Court that cannot be trusted. I just did not wish to take any chances, in the same way that I did not even tell Mr Minter that Matilda would be taking our place.”
“Is there
anyone you do trust?” said the Flag-captain, smiling in the gloom.
“But of course! But only those I know well! Very well James, I feel tonight is a lost cause so let us get under way again and get out of sight of land before the sun appears. We will return tonight.”
“Aye aye sir. What about Captain Stevens?”
“Martin will know what to do when he realises nothing has happened. He will move out of sight of land as well and return tonight.”
In fact, the exercise was repeated for the next three nights, much to the frustration of everyone involved. On many ships, there would have been many a rude comment about the Admiral not being able to make up his mind and not getting things right and about them going backwards and forwards more times than a fiddler’s elbow, but not on Alexander for the simple reason that as they were drawing away from the land on the first day, all hands had been piped aft and Courtenay, after inviting Fenwick to tell the ship’s company what they were about and that man smilingly refusing on the basis it was his Admiral’s plan, had explained what they were doing and exactly why. He had ended with, “We may have to go back and forth a few times lads, because you know how the Spaniards are about doing things urgently, but if they come to collect their men, we will be waiting for them!” He had turned to Fenwick. “Thank you James, You may dismiss the hands.” And so, no-one on the flagship was in the slightest surprised at what had transpired.
Wetherby took the night-glass back from a weary Dodds and looked at his master. “What now then sir? It would appear the Spaniards are not returning for their men.”
“We return to our position off the shore and Captain Stevens will resume his patrol.”
Courtenay and his Flag-lieutenant walked below the poop and went to the cabin. Kingston had laid out a decanter of brandy and some glasses and Courtenay poured a measure into two of them, handing one to Wetherby. Trafford had followed them and had a concerned look on his tanned, weatherbeaten face. “Can I get you anything sir?”
“No Alex, thank you. Why don’t you get some sleep? You have been up all night again with me on this wild goose chase.”
“There must be some reason why no-one came sir.” Trafford commented, ’Unless o’ course they did not want their men back?”
Courtenay sipped at the brandy as Wetherby slumped into a chair and moodily looked at his. “Perhaps, but why would they knowingly abandon those men, when they were seemingly led by someone who appeared to be an officer of sorts…/Trafford, go to see Major Bairstow, give him my compliments and tell him I wish to see that prisoner, the one who told us about the rendezvous plan.”
Wetherby sat upright. “Manuel Gonzales, that was his name sir.”
“Yes, I recall now. Well, it would appear he has given us false information. If he has…”
Wetherby sank the contents of the brandy glass. “Hang him from the mainyard sir?”
“I hope that will not be necessary, but we will see.”
A few moments later, there was a knock at the screen door and the Marine sentry yelled, “Major Bairstow and the prisoner, sir!”
“Thank you for being so quick Major.” smiled Courtenay as Bairstow pushed the man called Gonzales forward. Courtenay fixed him with a steely glaze and the man kept his head lowered. “Look at me Gonzales!” he started. The man’s head came up with a jerk. “You told me there would be a ship returning for the raiding party, and roughly when. We have waited for this ship to come and it did not. I therefore have to come to the finding that you have told me a pack of lies!”
A twisted expression came on the man’s tanned face and he said imploringly, “No Excellency, no! I told you the truth! A ship was to come! I swear it!” He looked into Courtenay’s eyes, into those dark, almost black eyes and felt fear gripping his insides because he did not like what he saw. What he saw was his own death.
“You are a liar Gonzales! If there was going to be a ship, it would have come by now, but it has not! The only other conclusion I can reach is that there was to be no ship at all, and you were to be sacrificed, because let us face it, once you and your fellow raiders had blown the entrance to the mine, you would not have survived for very long by yourselves. Do you know the saying, Gonzales, ‘Dead men tell no tales’?”
The man shook his head silently, and it was clear to Courtenay and everyone else in the cabin that he was trying to decide what to say. Courtenay decided to turn the screw a little. “Well, Manuel Gonzales, you have shown yourself to be a liar, and since I have to view you as a pirate, there is only one thing left for me to do.” He looked at Fenwick, who had just entered quietly to report they were making their way back slowly to their anchorage. “Just in time Captain. Would you give my compliments to Mr Harvey and ask him to rig a halter at the mainyard. We will hang this excuse for a man at dawn.”
“Aye aye sir. I shall see to it immediately. Shall I call for volunteers to haul him up to the yard sir, or detail men off?” Fenwick knew of course what his friend was doing, and joined in to turn the screw even further, and he was not disappointed. The man fell to his knees, babbling away in Spanish, then finally looked up at Courtenay with pleading eyes.
“Please Excellency, I beg of you, no hang!”
“Unless you have other information of use to me, I see no reason why I should not.” said Courtenay, putting on the worst voice he could muster. You have all ready told me one lie and that is one lie too many, do you understand?”
“But Excellency, there was to be a ship and I cannot understand myself why it has not come, especially since….” He suddenly broke off and looked at the black and white checked covering of the deck, realising he had said too much.
“Especially because what?” Courtenay barked at him, making the man look up again.
“Please Excellency. He will kill me if I say anything more.”
“Who will?”
“Captain Peron.”
“Well, Manuel Gonzales, you have a choice. You either tell me what you mean, or I will kill you. Tell me and you will live.”
The man looked at him again and this time Courtenay gave him such a look of hatred, he shrunk back, but then lifted his chin and spoke clearly. “The reason I know very well a ship was coming is because the man who led us, the one you killed, he was Raoul Peron.”
“Peron? A relative of Rodriguez Peron?”
“His little brother, Excellency. He will be truly angry when he finds out Raoul is dead, and you should fear for his revenge!”
Courtenay gave him a scornful look and signalled to Bairstow to remove him. The Major gave a wink and a short smile “Not going to hang him then sir? Shame, in my view. Done the lads out of some sport after the last few nights!”
The man cowered away as Courtenay said, “Not yet Major, but you never know….” The man was dragged away, almost buckling at the knees as he was.
Courtenay turned to the others. “Well, well gentlemen. So the man who led the attack was our Captain Peron’s little brother…” He broke off as there was the sound of gunfire from Matilda’s position. It was still dark, but dawn was not that far away and in equatorial climes, one minute it was night, the next it was day.
There was a rush for the deck, and when Courtenay reached it, Trafford was next to him with his night-glass which he snapped open and levelled on where he estimated the frigate would be anchored. He was just in time to see orange flashes and then seconds later hear the bark of the cannon as the frigate fired on something or someone. There was no answering fire, but as Courtenay raised the glass slightly, he fancied he saw the shape of a ship hurriedly coming about, and he guessed that a ship had tried to slip in along the coastline so that she could surprise Justify in the entrance to the Bamira. In other words, Peron knew very well the raiding party would not be returning, was aware that Alexander had sailed away for whatever reason, and had decided on some retribution of his own. Sneak in under cover of darkness, surprise the brig at daybreak and sink her where she was positioned, all as a message to Courtenay…and King Khalfam
as to the future. However, what he had not known of course was that Martin Stevens and his frigate had been placed where they were to guard against such an eventuality.
Courtenay lowered his glass and handed it to Fenwick. The firing had stopped. “Well, gentleman, it seems clear that this man Peron knew what was happening, aside from Captain Stevens being in our old position of course. I daresay he was going after our brig to teach us a lesson in manners.”
“Well, if that was the case sir,” said Wetherby, “he failed miserably!”
“Matilda has ceased firing sir.” reported Fenwick, “And there is no sign of whatever ship there was there. Sent off with her tail twixt her legs if you ask me!”
“It does however mean one thing gentlemen,” said Courtenay., “there is a spy in our midst. Otherwise, why did the ship not come to collect the raiding party? Peron would not have left his little brother to die in the jungle somewhere. And he knew we had gone from our anchorage, and presumably that only our brig was at the head of the river. He did not know of course that Matilda had taken our place because I told no-one about that part of the plan.”
“Could still be almost anyone sir.” said Wetherby.
“Yes Flags, I agree, but at least we are forarmed in the future. I told only Mr Minter and Captain Horrocks at the Post, and of course Mr Minter may have passed on the information to the King.”
Trafford spoke up, not put off by the fact he was surrounded by officers, Irvine having joined the party at the ship’s side. “And that Spencer-White was there, ‘an all.”
Wetherby looked at him in surprise, not because he had spoken out, “You really think he could be the asp in our bosom, so as to speak Trafford?” Irvine looked on in surprise.
“You never knows sir, do you? He ain’t got no love for his Lordship here, and from what I ‘eard, this seems to be his last chance at making some money.”
“Really, Trafford, I fail to see why that should make a man turn traitor?” put in Irvine, still reeling from the shock that a lower-deck man should speak to any officer without being spoken to first.
Courtenay and the Mercenaries Page 10