“Captain du Mason, I need to know by whom you were being paid to enable me to put an end to the attacks on Balathia.”
The man tried to smile and gave a small derisive cough, which turned into a short spasm. Courtenay turned as Wetherby returned. “Fighting is dying down sir. The ship is ours, but there seems to be urgency as Mr Proctor has reported he can see smoke from below. Someone has fired the ship!”
At those words, Mason opened his eyes again. He clutched at Courtenay’s shirt. “Some things, M’sieu, are not always what they appear, n‘est pas? I told that fool Peron I was no longer interested in the money, and that I had decided to go, then you came along and ruined all my plans. Slavery is so much safer in my view….Ask that fool if you wish to know who is behind what has been happening….I still have some pride left to me than to admit how….Vive L’Empereur!” His hand fell away, his eyes closed and he fell silent.
Courtenay got to his feet and Wetherby said urgently, “We must go sir. Mr Proctor said the fire is gaining a hold!”
“Very well. Tell him to get all our lads and any survivors off and back to Matilda as quickly as possible.”
“What about him sir?” asked Trafford.
“No, he would wish to go with the ship, and he is beyond caring now.”
They only returned to the frigate in time because even as they did so, flames shot up from below and soon were racing up the tarred rigging. Stevens and his Sailing Master conned the ship away from the burning corvette and soon Majestie was fiercely on fire. There was an explosion as the magazine started to go up, and soon she was settling, the bottom ripped out of her. As the masts finally dipped below the surface, Courtenay turned to Stevens and said bitterly, “And we still do not know for sure who is behind everything. All he said was that not everything was how it seemed.”
“Trifle odd,? We know his ship was involved in at least the attack on the fishing village when virtually everyone was killed.”
“Yes, and that young man I spoke to, the one who killed one of the attackers, was very clear about what he saw, and what he saw was that corvette, of that I have no doubt at all. Du Mason also said that he had told Peron he was having nothing further to do with what had been happening and that he was leaving. He seemed to think slavery was safer!”
“And then we came along and ruined his plans!” said Stevens.
“Yes, that is what he said, along with telling me to ask Peron if I wanted to know who was behind it all.”
“Unhelpful to the end.”
“Regrettably so. Very well Martin, let us return to Balathia as fast as possible. We will have a very quick peek at the anchorage at Mondiana as we do, just to make sure that frigate is still there.”
“What are you going to do about that frigate, Senora de Fuentes?”
“The problem I have is that at the present time, she is anchored under the protection of a country we are not at war with, and pretending to be a Spanish Navy ship. I am loathe to go bursting in there with all guns blazing because I am fairly certain that would not go down too well with their Lordships. For all I know Mondiana has diamond mines as well that H M Government would like to exploit at some stage. Back to my flagship first of all Martin, and I will take things from there. At least we know one of the ships has gone, and the other is more or less neutralised at the moment, so things ought to be fairly quiet.”
“Do you think we will get anything out of the survivors? Some might be willing to trade their lives for information?”
“I doubt it. the Frenchman had, it seems, two Mates to help him run the ship and both died with that salvo you fired, cut down by grape. The rest will know nothing more than they needed to, but you do, of course, have my permission to try.”
“Very well, I will see what we can discover on the way back.”
But very little was discovered from the men who had survived the short one-sided fight apart from the fact they had on one occasion worked with the frigate which was at anchor under the protection of another country pretending to be part of the Spanish Navy.
However, awaiting Vice-admiral Baron Courtenay on his return off the Bimara river was something that would change matters and give him the opportunity he needed to remove the final threat against Balathia.
TEN
When Matilda returned to the broad estuary of the Bimara and to where Alexander was riding at her cable, Giles Courtenay immediately saw two things. He saw the frigate Arrow at anchor not far from his flagship, then a smaller ship, a brig, also anchored between the frigate and the three-decker. He also saw she was wearing a White Ensign at her gaff. Since he knew he was not expecting any more ships, he surmised she was a prize, and that Captain Priestley and his men had had something to do with it. He therefore lost no time at all in getting Priestley aboard the flagship once he had returned.
He was sitting at his desk, coatless and with a glass of claret by his elbow when Wetherby came aft to report that Priestley had come aboard, with his Third-lieutenant.
“Captain Fenwick will be here with them shortly sir, but a little odd that Captain Priestley should bring his Third with him?”
Courtenay rubbed his chin. “Perhaps he had something to do with the prize Justin. Show them in as soon as they get here.”
“Aye aye sir.”
Courtenay turned to look at Trafford, and raised an eyebrow. Trafford smiled. “Sounds like the Third-lieutenant might ‘ave ‘ad summat to do with the prize, as you say sir. Good of the Captain to bring ‘im aboard if that’s the case.”
“H’mm. Ask Kingston to lay out some more glasses Alex.”
There was the stamp of the Marine sentry’s musket butt on the decking and the usual stentorian call. “Flag-captain, sir!”
Wetherby opened the screen doors and Fenwick stepped over the coaming, followed by Priestley and a very young-looking Lieutenant that Courtenay knew was not that long out of the gunroom. He got up and walked across the flooring, holding out his hand to Priestley. “Good morning Captain. Thank you for coming so promptly.”
“Good morning sir. It is good to see you again. This is my Third-lieutenant sir, Mr Clayton. I have brought him aboard since I am sensible of the fact you would be curious to know why the brig is here, she is called Mary Jane by the way sir, and Mr Clayton had a lot to do with capturing her.”
“In which case Captain, I am most grateful, since I can now hear what happened from the horse’s mouth and not have to hear it twice! Please sit down, and join me in a glass. I can assure you, the claret is excellent.”
The other two officers sat, Fenwick choosing to lounge by the sternlights, and smiling at Kingston as he took a glass. Clayton looked more than a little ill at ease and Fenwick smiled inwardly. This must be quite daunting for the youngster. Not long out of the gunroom, his first cruise after gaining his commission and now confronting his Admiral, whom he would know to be a real fighting sailor, and titled to boot!
As Courtenay turned his attention to the young officer, he also sensed the tension, so smiled broadly and raised his glass to him. “Your health Mr Clayton. Now then, young man, relax. You are among friends here. Forget I am your Flag Officer and just tell me what happened. Use your own words, not what you might think I would wish to hear.”
“Yes my Lord.” He flushed as recalled the word that had gone around the ship when it had joined Courtenay’s squadron. ‘No titles.’ “Sorry sir. Well, the Captain’s report will have dealt with how we came to come across this ship. I think the Captain had his suspicions about the ship, and I think most of the lads did as well, judging by some of the comments, but when I was a Midshipman sir, I spent a fair amount of time on anti-slavery patrols, including from Freetown, and you get to have instincts about whether someone is telling you the truth, if you know what I mean sir.”
Courtenay smiled. “Yes Mr Clayton, I do. I have also spent time dealing with slavers. Pray continue.”
“Well sir, owing to my experience with slavers, and the fact the Captain here had some doubts
about the ship, he asked me to take a boarding party, and he also told me to take one of the Bosun’s mates, a man named Fardon, who had also had a lot of experience with slavers. The Captain had to show our teeth to make the brig’s Captain allow us on board, and as soon as we did, Mr Fardon went off with some of the lads and went below. All this time, the Captain, a chap named Sefton, kept calling me all the names under the sun, and threatening to report me, the Captain and the ship to the Admiralty for piracy. The thing is sir that I began to think it was all bluster. He even produced the ship’s journals, which showed it to be a trader, and he said he was on his way to collect a cargo from a West African port, then he would be sailing to the United States. His journals showed that he regularly made the same trip with cargoes so prima facie sir, he was an honest trader. However, I recalled once that a ship’s Captain had kept two sets of books, so I was not convinced and then Mr Fardon came and had a word.”
“He had found something, yes?”
Clayton smiled broadly at the memory then flushed. “Yes sir, he most certainly had. The brig was clean, in fact too clean. I had thought there was something odd about her when I got aboard, but had put it out of my mind when I was dealing with Sefton. Mr Fardon had noticed it immediately. If you are going back and forth across the Atlantic carrying various different cargoes, there would be at least something to mark them, but there was nothing. What Mr Fardon found was a number of false bulkheads. Not substantial ones, but enough that at first glance, they would seem normal. These were in the holds. Mr Fardon removed some of these false bulkheads and found what he was looking for, what we had both been suspecting. Chains, sir, and manacles. The type the slavers use to shackle slaves. He took away the rest of the false bulkheads and found more. He also found evidence, or at least one of his men did, that the Captain had been entertaining a, ah, female person in his cabin. It was not readily apparent, but he found a necklace beneath the bunk, and it was the type that is commonly worn by African females sir. Mr Fardon confirmed that when he saw it. In fact, he told me it is the kind of jewellery worn by a Princess of a tribe.”
“So what did you do then?”
“I braced Sefton with the evidence sir, and he continued to attempt to bluster his way out of it, but it was of no use and when I told him I was arresting him, his men and his ship, to my surprise he broke down and admitted everything.”
“Really Mr Clayton?” said Fenwick from the sternlights. “Everything?”
“Yes sir. It was, it seems, his first trip in command. Previously he had been the First Mate, but the Captain got himself killed in a fight over cards in Charleston, so the owner gave the position to him. The previous Captain also liked to keep the ship clean, so as to try and persuade any Navy ship that stopped him he was an honest trader, but it seems Sefton went too far in cleaning ship. Mr Fardon also heard one of the crew cursing Sefton for being so clean that it aroused suspicions!!”
Courtenay smiled broadly. “Very well done Mr Clayton, and you too Captain Priestley for having the presence of mind to be so suspicious. I am very grateful to both of you. Where is the crew of the Mary Jane?”
“On my ship sir, under guard, obviously.”
“H’mm, if we get many more prisoners there will not be room for the ship’s company! Hold on to them for now Captain, but the thought is coming to me that I may be able to make use of Mary Jane. “
“Really sir? May I ask in which way?” said Priestley, nodding his thanks to Kingston as his glass was refilled. He looked up as Fenwick eased away from the sternlights and walked into the middle of the cabin and saw him looking at his Admiral, then smile. When Priestley looked again at the Admiral, he saw he was rubbing the scar on his cheek.
“I am not entirely certain yet Captain, yet….Do any of you recall the story about the siege of Troy from your schooldays?” They looked at him with blank stares. He smiled. “I think we may have found our very own Trojan Horse.”
A few days passed during which Arrow and its prize remained at anchor next to the flagship. During that time, there was a visit from Peter Minter with a message that King Khalfani, having been informed of Courtenay’s return, would like to see him as soon as it was possible. He enquired as to what had been happening, and Courtenay told him that Majestie had been sunk, without going into great detail. He also told him that one of of his ships had had the good fortune to capture a slaver, and that shortly the prize would be transferred to Freetown, where no doubt she would be bought in. Courtenay hated not being truthful about his intentions with Minter, whom he liked and saw as the real person looking after the Government’s interests in Balathia, but he was determined to keep his plans and movements secret until after they had happened.
However, before he could go to see the King, two events occurred. First of all, one fine clear morning a sail was sighted tacking into the bay and which later identified itself as the schooner Melody under the command of a Lieutenant Walmer. Courtenay knew from his intelligence pack that the schooner was on anti-slavery patrols out of Freetown, about 1000 miles away. Seeing the schooner tacking to come under the flagship’s lee, Courtenay’s thoughts were of his own schooner, Dolphin, which had been refloated and which was now under the command of Lieutenant Marcus Law. She was making a gentle patrol up-river to enable the new Captain to get to know his men, some of which were volunteers from the flagship, and to sort out watchbills. Law would be able to get to know his new command and then hopefully, be ready for anything that might be requested of him. The other thing was that shortly before the schooner arrived, so did a very gaudily painted and heavily-flagged brigantine that used the southern channel and when challenged by Justify, identified herself as the personal ‘yacht’ of the King of Mondiana, and that his emissary wished to speak with King Khlafani. Since Courtenay could hardly prevent such a meeting, the ship was allowed entry to the Bimara, although Justify was directed to ‘escort’ it.
When Jonathan Pountney was given the message by signal, he could hardly stop himself roaring with laughter. He saw Edward Courtenay looking at him and took him to one side. “What your father means Edward is that he does not trust whoever it is in that terrible excuse for a ship, and that we are to keep a wary eye open for trouble. Very well, we will. We will keep to starboard of that thing, and have the port-side guns loaded, just in case, but for God’s sake Mr Courtenay, do not do what you are tempted to, and run out!”
Edward Courtenay smiled broadly. “If you say so sir?”
Back on the flagship, Courtenay had a premonition that the appearance of the personal ‘yacht’ of the King of Mondiana spelt trouble. Wetherby agreed.
“I wonder if the King has got word about Majestie sir, and is concerned about the fact there is, on the face of it, a Spanish ship at anchor enjoying his protection and that we might decide we wish to go after that as well?”
“Yes, but what could he say Flags? Majestie was a damned pirate at the end of the day.”
“He might say the ship enjoyed his country’s protection sir, save for one small fact. According to the note made by the Sailing Master, we were roughly fifteen miles off-shore when we engaged the corvette. In other words, we were in International waters. And Majestie was leaving the area, because du Mason told us he had terminated his arrangements with Peron and was moving to new waters.”
“Thank you Justin. That is very astute of you.”
The schooner was now dropping an anchor and Wetherby had sent the usual signal for its Commanding Officer to repair on board, although Courtenay and Fenwick gained the impression the Captain was coming anyway. Fenwick greeted him and brought him aft.
“Good morning sir. I am Lieutenant Walmer, of the schooner Melody under the command of Commodore Young at Freetown. Do I have the honour of addressing Vice-admiral Lord Courtenay sir?”
“You do, Lieutenant. Please sit if you wish. What can I do for you?”
“It is rather what I, or rather my Commodore, can do for you my Lord.”
“’Sir’ will do Mr Walm
er. No need to keep using my title.”
“Er, thank you sir. My Commodore has received intelligence to the effect there may well be a ship in your area sir which is known to be a possible slaver, It seems she has a master who is very clever and careful to make sure his ship does not have the appearance of a trader, but we have intelligence from a source in Charleston sir that she is, but….”
“But you have already noticed we have a ship of that description here at anchor?”
“Er, yes sir, I had noticed. Is she…?”
“Yes Mr Walmer I do believe she is.” Courtenay went on to explain the circumstances.
Walmer rubbed his chin. “I see sir, then you had no need of my message.”
“No Mr Walmer. I am perfectly happy to allow you to take the slaver back to Freetown, since I have no need for it, provided of course it is recognised that one of my ships captured it and is therefore entitled to the prize money.” He paused as Walmer smiled and nodded. “But, I believe I have a use for her, so I would ask that you remain here for perhaps a few days whilst I make my decision. When I have finished with her, you may take her to your Commodore.”
“What about her crew sir. I mean, are they….?”
“In chains.. I hope your Commodore has a good supply of halters Mr Walmer?”
Walmer gulped as he realised the implications of what Courtenay had just said. each man aboard the Mary Jane would choke out his life at the end of a rope, including Sefton, after, of course, a trial. However, he had been caught red-handed, so the outcome was clear.
“I am sure he has sir.” was all the young Captain of the schooner could manage.
It was as the hands off-watch were at their breakfast that the brig Justify reappeared at the head of the Bimara, and she hoisted a signal asking that she speak with the Admiral. Courtenay’s response was to direct the brig to close on the Flag, and in short order, Pountney was climbing the tall side of the Alexander, in company with Peter Minter. Fenwick met them both at the entry port and escorted them to the Cabin.
Courtenay and the Mercenaries Page 17