“Lost your way sailor-boy?” asked the man. “That-a-way is up-river, and the other way is the open sea.”
“My Captain has sent me, sir, to ascertain the whereabouts of the King’s lugger Tabara.”
“Why, what is your business with her?”
“We have orders to meet with her here and escort her to Gavouli”
“Orders from whom, or where, may I ask?”
“From Vice-admiral Lord Courtenay, the commander of the squadron, that is whom. Now, sir, would you be so kind as to answer my question? Where is the lugger?”
“Do not take that attitude with me, you young whippersnapper, I will have you know I am….”
Edward Courtenay smiled broadly at the man. “Oh, I know who you are Mr Spencer-White. And I know all about you as well. I am a quite a bit older now than I was when my mother pulled a pistol on you the first time. Do you recall that, sir?” He smiled even more broadly as the man coloured. “Now then sir, in the King’s name, where is that lugger?”
Spencer-White spluttered a reply. “Gone. Went earlier. The Captain, that fool Elija, was in a hurry to be away, so they left a good hour ago. Now then, you…” but he was talking to thin air because Edward Courtenay was already on his way back to the boat.
Back on board he reported to Pountney. “From what I found out sir, Tabara left an hour ago. I am told by the person I met ashore that her Captain was apparently in something of a hurry.”
“Yes, I saw you speaking with someone. Can I guess who, Edward?”
“I am certain you can sir. It was that fool Spencer-White.”
Jonathan Pountney wagged a finger. “Now, now Mr Courtenay, that is not the way to speak about the person who is supposed to be our good King George’s representative in this fair land…even if he is! Very well, Mr Courtenay, make sail and we will endeavour to overtake the lugger and fulfil your father’s orders.”
“Aye aye sir.”
In fact, Justify did not catch the lugger in the twenty mile or so voyage to reach Gavouli. Pountney was of the view that in fact the lugger must have left far more than an hour before their arrival off the post, otherwise he felt they would at least have caught some sight of the King’s ship, Whilst he accepted the river had its fair share of bends and twists, nonetheless, he expected to at least have caught sight of her.
He was standing at the stern of his ship watching the jungle on both sides of the river pass by and occasionally waving to some of the local population who were out on the river in their dug-out canoes when Courtenay came aft. Neither were wearing uniform coats or hats, and Pountney had his shirt loose around his neck. ‘Bloody hell Edward, it is damned hot around here.”
Courtenay junior grinned. “It certainly is sir. May I ask, what do we know about this lugger of the King’s?”
“Any reason for asking Edward? Or are you just being plain nosey?”
“I know sir that the King uses these type of craft for ferrying the ore from the mine, but is he not worried about pirates or other thieves?”
“Since the luggers he has are armed, I would say, yes, he is worried. The lugger we were supposed to escort, Tabara, is, as you know, named for his wife, the Queen. She is armed, I understand, with eight six-pounders. Just enough to deter any would-be attacker I suppose. Does that answer your query?”
“Yes sir. Thank you sir.” Pountney watched as his Lieutenant went back to the rail and watched the men at work on the main deck. He knew that their destination was not far away now, around the next bend which was to starboard, but there was something unsettling him, and when he saw Edward Courtenay turn briefly and look back at him, he realised something was troubling him as well. he walked the short distance to the rail and spoke to him quietly.
“Edward, do you feel that something is not quite right?”
“Just an odd feeling sir. Father told me that he sometimes has the same feeling. Probably nothing sir, but…”
“But what?”
“I would like your permission to bring the hands to quarters and to load the port battery sir…..just in case.”
“Permission granted Mr Courtenay.”
Courtenay suddenly grinned. “If there is nothing wrong sir…”
“Mr Courtenay, I would far rather be a live idiot than be a dead one.”
Courtenay smiled, then turned to seek out the Bosun. He gave orders sending the hands to their quarters for action, but instructed him to keep the men as quiet as possible. Commander Pountney, watching from his quarterdeck, smiled and thought from what his brother had told him, that could be the Vice-admiral himself issuing the orders. He spoke with calm, steely composure, issuing orders clearly and concisely and with authority. Eventually, he nodded and turned to his Captain. “The ship is at quarters sir, port battery loaded.”
“Thank you Mr Courtenay.”
Edward Courtenay sought out someone he had been looking for. “Harding, you have the sharpest eyes in the ship. Get aloft to the mainmast crosstrees and tell me, as quickly as you can, if you see anything that does not sit right. We will shortly see Gavouli and the lugger ought to be tied up at a jetty on the left bank of the river.”
Harding was no idiot. In a larger ship he would have been rated a petty officer by now, and his years at sea told him immediately what was required. “You think summat ain’t right, is that it Mr Courtenay?”
“Yes, that is exactly right.”
“Best be getting’ up there then sir!”
The bend to starboard came and Justify tacked to follow the river round. At its mouth, the Bamira was about 5 miles wide. Here, it narrowed to about a mile, and after Gavouli, it narrowed still further to less than half a mile. As the ship negotiated the bend, the jetties which were on the left-hand bank for the use of the people living there and for loading the product of the diamond mines on the King’s luggers came into view, as did Tabara which was not tied up at, but not far from one of the jetties. Her sails were loosely brailed up, not that Pountney expected them to be anything else, but the impression gained was that they could be re-set at a moment’s notice, and since she was not tied up alongside, the cable could be cut and the ship on the move very quickly. He looked at Courtenay as he climbed onto the small quarterdeck. “I think we are both right Edward. Something is not right, for certain.” He turned to the helmsman. “Let her fall off a point Graham.”
“Aye aye sir.”
The brig’s course was taking her towards the jetties and the lugger, but keeping for now out in mid-stream. Courtenay looked aloft every few seconds, willing Harding to yell something down, and on the last occasion he looked, when they were beginning to slide abeam of the lugger, he saw Harding sliding down a backstay to report direct.
“Saw them buggers aboard runnin’ around their guns. They all seem to be heavily armed as well sir. Good job you thought summat was wrong, otherwise….”
“Yes Harding,” said Pountney bitterly, “we would have sailed into a nice little trap. Take charge of your guns Mr Courtenay. If there is so much of a twitch of a gunport, you may run out.”
“I wonder what happened to the real crew sir, and Captain Horrocks?”
“You do not think that is the usual crew?”
“I doubt that sir. I am sure the King would know who he can trust to crew his ships, especially in view of their usual cargo!”
“You may well be right. We shall see. Now to your guns Mr Courtenay!”
“Aye aye sir!”
Edward Courtenay got down to his guns and all his gun-captains turned and looked at him. “It is a trap lads. We did not fall for it! We will be opening gunports in a moment. Make sure your first shots count. Numbers one and two, aim for the mast, bring it down. The others, fire at the hull!”
The gun-captains laid out their lanyards, connected to the flintlock firing mechanism, and waited patiently. The men on the gunport pulleys waited, eyes on Courtenay, who had gone to the port side of the brig and was looking at the lugger, even suddenly waving as if nothing was wrong. P
ountney and some of the more experienced hands saw it and smiled. Subterfuge to the very end! Courtenay said over his shoulder, “Be ready with those ports lads, I think….” He had seen a port on the lugger start to open. “Yes, gunports, open!” He had seen the first port move and as it did so, he saw the muzzle of a six-pounder being start to appear. He looked at Pountney, who simply nodded. “Run out!”
The brig’s port-side guns ran out smartly as the ports opened, catching the men aboard the lugger by surprise because they were opening ports and running out their guns in a haphazard fashion, clearly believing they had fooled the Royal Navy ship.
Courtenay had his sword raised. “Fire!” The bark of the nine-pounders was puny compared with the type of broadside he was used to aboard a frigate, but against the ship they were engaging, it was still lethal at that range. The lugger’s mast came down and fell over the port side, with sails, yard, ropes, blocks and tackles and the other guns thundered against the side. So taken by surprise were they that the lugger’s crew did not get off one shot, and by the time they did, Justify’s gunners had reloaded and fired again.
“Get us alongside Mr Helps.” said Pountney to the Master’s mate next to the wheel. “Mr Courtenay? Going alongside, standby with boarders!”
“Aye aye sir!”
Edward Courtenay inspected his sword and tied the bright red lanyard around his wrist in the way his father had told him. He looked round as Merrit, an elderly seaman who served in part as the wardroom servant placed his pistols onto the gun truck that he was next to. Courtenay thrust one at a time into his belt, and nodded to the man. “Thank you Merrit. Somewhere safe now. eh?”
‘Don’t you worry none about me Mr Courtenay sir! I kin take care o’ myself, no worries. I’ll be at yer back!”
Courtenay looked over the side and saw the guns of the lugger spit orange fire and clouds of smoke and he felt the balls, small though they were, strike home. One came through an open port and slammed a gunner down in a mixture of flailing arms and legs. The man had his left arm taken off at the elbow and screamed in agony as his blood spread across the pale planking, then he was dragged away below, to what hell Courtenay could not imagine as Justify carried no surgeon. The hull shook as the brig responded, and he saw the lugger stagger slightly as the balls slammed home and what was now pistol shot range.
The arms chest was gaping open with its gruesome wares and from which the boarders were arming themselves. Even as he watched he saw one man thrust a tomahawk through his belt and pick up a pistol. Another man tested the blade on his Navy issue cutlass, saw Courtenay’s scrutiny and nodded. “Take care now Mr Courtenay sir! The Admiral wouldn’t like it if anything ‘appened to yer!”
“I’ll be there Jake Hargreaves to make sure o’ that!” yelled Merrit, then the hulls were grinding together, and then held together as the Bosun’s men threw grapnels. There was a baying noise coming from the lugger, but no-one was making any attempt to board. Pountney bounded down from the quarterdeck, sword in hand, yelling.
“To me, lads, boarders away!” He climbed over the side, and with a number of his men following, yelling and screaming insults and curses in equal measure, dropped onto the deck of the other ship.
Courtenay waved his sword over his head, and made for the side. “Follow me, lads, let’s get the bastards!” Then he too was dropping onto the unfamiliar decking, which he noted was not particularly clean (an anethma to any First-lieutenant in the Royal Navy) and was soon crossing swords with a tall coloured man with a bright red bandana around his head, The man had a large and very outdated cutlass in his hand, and he now wielded it and struck out at him. Courtenay easily evaded the wild blow by stepping aside, and as he did so, thrust forward with his sword, and caught the man between the ribs. The man bellowed in pain, but he was not finished and turned on Courtenay with hate in his eyes, which unfortunately for him told young Edward what the man was going to do next. It was a wild slash, easily avoided, then the man screamed again as a knife seemed to grow out of his chest. He crumpled, dropping the cutlass, and Merrit jumped in, pulled the knife out, and calmly slit the man’s throat to finish him. Courtenay nodded his thanks as Merrit cleaned his knife on the dead man’s shirt, then turned to face another coloured man rushing at him. This time, he had time to spare to draw, left-handedly, one of his pistols, and he calmly took aim, waited until the man was almost on him and pulled the trigger. The man’s face and head disappeared in blood and pieces of bone and as he dropped to the deck, blood with some mysterious grey matter in it ran into the scuppers.
Courtenay looked around for Pountney to see him crossing swords with a man who seemed to be armed with a modern fencing sword, which was doing him no good at all because he was being forced back and back until Jonathan Pountney calmly ran him through the stomach so hard the point of the blade exited his back. The man’s mouth opened but no sound came out as he slumped to the decking. Pountney placed one booted foot on his chest, and pulled the sword blade free, leaving the man to fall sideways, eyes still open even in death, onto the bloodied decking. Pountney looked around for another opponent, but those that had survived the onslaught were jumping over the side in an effort to escape. Courtenay drew his other pistol as one man stood on the side to dive into the water and fired. The ball took the man between the shoulder blades and threw him over the side. Then there were some screams from the men in the water, and when Courtenay rushed to the side he drew back in horror. One by one, the men were being attacked by things in the water than closely resembled pictures of the dinosaurs of old. Alligators. There were more screams, then silence, apart from the thrashing in the water as the reptilian creatures took their victims in their death rolls under the bloodied water’ He tore his eyes away and looked inboard.
Merrit leant on his cutlass, drawing in breath. “Looks like they caught someone sir.”
Courtenay nodded and looked to the other side where Pountney and one of the Bosun’s mates had between them a tall, good-looking coloured man who was holding his arm where blood was seeping through his fingers. “Merrit, go and see if you can find anything below and then report to me. I will be with the Captain/”
‘Aye aye sir.” Merrit beckoned to a couple of the men who had boarded the lugger and they disappeared down a hatchway.
“Prisoner sir?” asked Courtenay as he reached the small party.
“Ah, safe and sound then Mr Courtenay? Jolly good. Yes, we have a prisoner. Any others?”
“No sir. Those who survived decided to try and swim for it.” He paused. “The alligators seemed to have a different idea about that. I have sent Merrit below to see if there is anyone there.”
“Good. Excellent. Well, we will have this fellow taken aboard Justify and enquire of him what exactly he thought he was doing, but I am sure that our Admiral will have a number of questions as well.”
Courtenay nodded, then thought for a moment before motioning to his Captain to join him away from the prisoner. “There is a very good possibility, do you not think sir, that the King will wish to have this man sent to him? After all, he obviously had stolen one of the King’s luggers.”
“Yes, Edward, that thought had occurred to me also, and I rather feel that your father will have to hand him over, but there is no need for the King to know yet that we have someone, and I am sure your father will have a number of questions he wishes to raise before that time comes.” He shivered slightly. “I have a feeling that fellow will not be alive long once the King lays his hands on him!”
Courtenay nodded and just at that moment Merrit appeared. Following him was Captain Horrocks, whose uniform was torn and he had a rough bandage around one arm, and a number of other men, whom he introduced as being the normal crew of the lugger. Neither Courtenay or Pountney saw the quick look that passed between one of the released men and the prisoner.
“Goodday to you sir.” said Pountney. “I am Commander Jonathan Pountney, and that I am sure you know, is my brig Are you well sir?”
“Apa
rt from a slight injury. Sorry, where are my manners. I am Captain Horrocks of….”
“Yes Captain, I know you command the Military here. Can you tell me what happened?”
“Bastards jumped us as Elija here was making ready to sail. We didn’t have any chance at all to defend ourselves. They battened us all below decks.”
“What were they up to Captain Horrocks, have you any idea?” asked Pountney.
“I suspect this is just part of the ongoing situation here Commander. Some of the crew did hear one or two of these, these damned pirates saying that the King was not going to be at all happy losing a lot of his diamonds, so it would appear they were planning to take the next load and keep it for themselves.”
“But why? They would have to have the diamonds separated from the ore to be of any use and they would have run the risk of meeting up with one of our ships. Where were they going?”
“I have no idea Commander, but perhaps they were hoping to slip out of the river at night, right over on the other side.”
“H’mm, they could use the channel there to get to the open sea sir.” put in Courtenay.
‘Just so Mr Courtenay. Very well Captain, since the original crew are all here, they can take over their ship. We will anchor out in mid-stream until they have loaded their cargo and then we will escort Tabara back to Bimara. In the meantime, let us see what we can get out of our prisoner.”
In the meantime, H M frigate Tiger had thrashed her way to the south to enable Giles Courtenay to have a surreptitious look at Mondiana. He was looking at the chart as the frigate sailed serenely through the dark blue waters of the Southern Atlantic, off the African coast, on the starboard tack, her hull cast over to port under the strength of the wind filling her sails. Trafford came into the chartroom, balancing expertly a mug of coffee as he did so, and looked at the chart. “Mondiana sir, in Mondiana? Bit confusing, ain’t it?”
Courtenay and the Mercenaries Page 12