As Mary Jane, now Pollyana, closed the shore, Courtenay called all hands aft. “Now, remember lads, we are a bunch of cut-throats. To coin a phrase from a good friend of mine, and whom I wish was with us for this venture, there is not one of us who would not sell our mother for tuppence half penny and our grandmother for a damn sight less!” There was laughter amongst the assembled crew, which Fardon joined in with. He chuckled and shook his head a couple of times. “We are the scum of the earth, and there is not anything we would not do to earn money. You know the story about how the ship is so clean, so remember it, although I do not, in any event, wish you to speak to anyone who may attempt to engage you in conversation. Mr ‘Smith’ here will do any talking if for any reason I am not aboard. No-one, but no-one is to be allowed aboard if I am not here. Remember also, the ship had its keel laid down in Baltimore and we all hail from Charleston. Do not worry about the fact you do not have American accents. There are many British sailors who man American ships.” He smiled down at them, and saw they were correctly dressed in a variety of clothing that made them look anything but Blue-jackets. He himself had selected a black shirt, black trousers with a wide belt and had tied a red bandana around his head, on top of which was a scruffy tricorn. Hawkins was similarly attired. He had left his fine sword in Arrow, and carried a cutlass. Courtenay had left his own sword in his Flagship and had also selected a cutlass. “Very well, lads, you all know what to do. Keep to the plan and all will be well.” At least hopefully, he thought as he turned away.
ELEVEN
The brig Pollyana, aka Mary Jane, completed a tack and sailed slowly into the roadstead at Mondiana, taking in her sails as she did so and gliding to a stop about five cables from the still anchored former Spanish frigate Senora de Fuentes. As Courtenay stood on the small quarterdeck with First Mate ‘Smith’ barking his orders, he looked across at the frigate and took in the unkempt ship he was seeing. There were ropes carelessly left dangling from the side in a number of places and the sails were not even furled neatly. As Hawkins/Smith turned to him, he saw his lip curling at the sight he had also seen.
Courtenay smiled. “Yes, Mr Smith, I understand, but we are a slovenly lot as well, remember, at least to some extent. Loosely furl the sails. I do not expect to stay very long, as you know.”
“Aye aye.” Hawkins bit off the word, ‘sir’ as he had been told to. He looked at the frigate. “I would wager they will wonder what we are doing here.”
“Yes, I agree. You know the story, but whilst I am ashore trying to see what kind of defences they have around the town, do not allow anyone aboard who might come a-calling. You can say those are my instructions.”
“Aye aye Captain.”
“Did you take note of the defences as we came into the roadstead?” asked Courtenay.
“Yes. Usual arrangement, a battery on each of the headlands which would sweep the roadstead and destroy anyone in its way….provided the gunners can shoot straight of course!”
“Well, we will not take the chance they cannot Mr Smith. We will assume they can, so men from my flagship will be needed as planned.”
“They’re watching from that there dago ship Cap’n.” said Trafford as he turned the wheel and brought the brig into the wind. The anchor dropped into the clear water and the ship came to rest. He had seen the sun glinting on telescopes from the frigate.
“That is to be expected Alex. They are curious about us as strangers. Very well, get the boat over the side, and let us go ashore and have a look around.”
With the brig at anchor, Fardon saw to a boat being put over the side for Courtenay to go ashore in. Trafford would of course act as cox’n, and he had selected a rowing crew from the volunteers, all of whom had instructions to say nothing to anyone, but to keep their eyes and ears open. It was to be doubted, in any event, that they would meet many people who spoke English. Even before the boat had arrived at a pier which had been built out into the water, Courtenay saw some local traders pushing their own boats into the water, and he guessed they would be out to trade with the men on the brig. He hoped that Hawkins/Smith would ensure no-one got aboard. Trafford read his thoughts.
“Don’t worry none sir, I think Mr Smith will handle everything.”
“I am sure he will.” Courtenay looked at the pier and saw there was a cluster of people gathering at the top of some wooden stairs. The boat came alongside and he climbed up to the pier.
A number of people looked at him with almost blank stares, but another man, clearly a local merchant, pushed his way through and bowed to Courtenay. “Are you English?”
“American.”
“Welcome Excellency, welcome. Can I be of assistance to you? I own a local warehouse where I have all manner of supplies. My name is Mahmood.”
“Samuels. Thank you very much, but first of all, I think I would like to stretch my legs a little and perhaps enjoy some liquid refreshment. Is there a place nearby where we can obtain some?”
The man bowed even more deeply. “Of course Excellency. I own such an establishment. If you would like to follow me?”
He led the way along the pier and as they reached the shore end, the other members of the boat’s crew went off in a different direction, ambling along with a rolling gait and looking all around at the different sights and sounds. They had been told what they were looking for.. Courtenay and Trafford followed the man called Mahmood, who was quite short and rounded, and soon they were seated in a cool bar and being served some of the local beer. Trafford took a mouthful and how he stopped himself from gagging on it he did not know. He put the pot the beer had come in back on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Courtenay took a slight slip and winced at the terrible taste, but appearances had to be maintained, so he took a longer draught and slammed the pot onto the table, where it was immediately refilled.
Mahood rejoined them, his face obviously questioning, and Courtenay imagined he was more than likely counting up the money he could make out of this Captain. “Now then Captain, what supplies will you be requiring? I can have them delivered to your ship, if you wish?”
They spent the next twenty minutes discussing what was required and haggled over payment, because Courtenay and Mahmood knew that the latter was overcharging, and Mahmood knew that Courtenay knew. In the end they shook hands and Mahmood said he would deliver everything the following morning.
Courtenay and Trafford then had the chance to stroll around the streets near the pier, and they found themselves on the edge of the town, and on a road that led back to the pier. Courtenay smiled as he saw the first battery. It was not even hidden, and neither was the next, although both batteries were placed behind a low stone wall, and there was a supply of ready-use cannon balls neatly stacked near each weapon. On reflection there was no need for them to be hidden, because the King of Mondiana would want to show anyone who might consider attacking him that he had the means to defend his country. The guns were in gleaming black and well cared for. They were 24-pounders and Courtenay wondered quite where they had got them from. They appeared to be French, by the design. There were no men on guard, but then perhaps the King did not see the need to have them guarded. As they walked back towards the pier, they saw the others coming towards them, but before they could meet and then return to the boat a small party of soldiers in smart uniforms based on the French design appeared, and one of them, clearly an officer of sorts, stepped forward and motioned for them to stop.
“My King says what you want here? Where do you come from?”
Courtenay smiled. “You may tell your King we have come to buy supplies. We come from a long way away, from a place called America.”
The man smiled. “I have heard of it. You buy supplies, and then you leave, yes?”
“Yes, that is what we intend.”
“You will pay a levy for waiting in our waters. That is our King’s rule.”
Trafford turned away to hide a smile. King’s rule indeed! This ‘officer’ had a good trick going on
, charging people a levy for using the anchorage. Courtenay kept straight-faced and after more haggling, some coins changed hands. The ‘officer’ saluted and smiled, showing a beautiful set of snowy white teeth and shouted commands to his soldiers that took them back from where they had come.
Shortly after returning to the brig, Trafford came down to the tiny cabin to report that a boat from the frigate was approaching. “Hardly unexpected Alex. I will come.” On deck, he looked over the side and saw the boat approaching. He counted eight oarsmen, with two figures seated in the sternsheets, one dressed in the uniform of a Spanish Naval officer. Hawkins/Smith looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Shall we greet our visitor Mr Smith?”
The boat came alongside and the Spanish Naval officer stood and took hold of the steps up to the entry port. He looked up and saw Courtenay peering down at him. “Permission to come aboard Capitaine?”
Courtenay put as much disdain into his voice as he could manage. “Well, that depends on who it is that wants to come aboard. Who the devil are you?”
The man looked surprised for a moment then smiled. He had a short beard and moustache and his face was heavily tanned. The men in the boat looked far more like pirates than supposedly Spanish seamen. Courtenay saw out of the corner of his eye that Fardon was leaning on the side very close to a swivel gun. The gun was loaded and the lanyard was within very easy reach of the Bosun’s right hand. “I introduce myself. I am Capitaine Rodriguez Maria Peron, of His Most Catholic Majesty’s Navy. “
“Is this an official visit, or are you just being nosy? This is an American ship.”
The man smiled an engrossing smile. “Merely a social one Capitaine.”
“In which case you are welcome, but your men remain in the boat, if you don’t mind?”
“Of course.” He turned and barked some orders in rapid-fire Spanish and then climbed to the deck, where he bowed and extended his hand. “And you are….?”
“Captain Samuels, and this is the Pollyana. May I offer you some refreshment?”
“That would be most welcome.”
Courtenay led the way below and opened some bottles of wine. He poured a generous measure into a none-too clean glass and smiled inwardly as Peron looked at it and almost refused it.
“What brings you to this forsaken part of the world Capitaine er, Samuels if I may ask?”
“Just came here to obtain some supplies. We got caught in a very bad storm in the Atlantic a while back and owing to someone not doing their job properly, some of the hatches stove in with the waves and we lost a lot of our food and fresh water. I have been ashore making arrangements for more supplies. What are you doing here, a Spanish Naval ship?”
Courtenay saw the other man’s eyes take in the cabin as a whole and look disdainfully at his glass and then back to Courtenay. He then saw those dark, almost black eyes staring at him and looked down at his feet to recover his thoughts. “I just do my Government’s bidding Capitaine. That is all. Tell me, I received word just the other day that a ship the description of which fits your fine vessel was taken by part of the British Naval Squadron sitting off Balathia. She was called the Mary Jane. Have you heard of her?”
“And where did you obtain such information from Captain?”
The man smiled an oily smile. “I have my sources.”
“Mary Jane eh? Been taken by those damned British has she? The reason this ship fits her description is simply because they were laid down in the same yard at Baltimore, right down to the keel bolts. Jonas Sefton had Mary Jane and I had this one. We both left Charleston together to cross the Atlantic, but we got caught in some great storm and lost company. I wondered what had happened to her. Taken eh? Poor old Jonas.”
“And what were you coming to this continent for eh? My information is that although Sefton tried to hide the fact, he was a slaver? Black ivory eh, Senor?”
“I am just an honest trader, that is all. I make my living taking goods from one place to another.”
“And what are your goods now, Capitaine?”
“I am sure you have noticed that we are not carrying anything at the moment. I hope to find some goods I can sell in Charleston when we sail more to the south. Now then Captain, pleased as I am to meet you, I have work to do. Once our supplies are aboard in the morning, we will be leaving.”
The man’s eyes fixed on Courtenay. “And where are you going?”
“I have told you, to the south, but in any event Captain, where I and my ship go is nothing whatsoever to do with Spain!”
The smiled and bowed. “I apologise Capitaine. That was very rude. I will take my leave and wish you a safe journey to wherever you are going.”
Courtenay escorted him on deck and watched as the man swung down into his boat barking commands as he did so. The boat pushed away and the men at the oars picked up the stroke, which was a lazy one. Trafford, out of sight of the boat, laughed shortly. “Spaniards eh? Not in a country mile! Heard them talking among themselves. There was at least one frog and some of the others had a language never heard of.” He turned to Fardon. “What do you think Bert?”
The man scratched his chin. “Dunno, I’m sure sir. Portugee per’aps. One Spaniard, one frog ‘as Alex ‘ere ‘as said.”
Hawkins/Smith grinned. “Real international crew that sir. There was an Italian in it, and one or two Africans.”
Courtenay laughed. “Spanish Naval ship! We know damn well she is not. Very well, we have the information we came for. Mr Smith, if you can so without arousing suspicion, see what you can make out about the headland batteries.”
“Already have sir. I reckon, and so does the Bosun, that there are half a dozen guns in each, and they are probably 24-pounders. They have been well sited and can sweep the whole anchorage.” He looked his Admiral straight in the eye. “They will have to go sir.”
Courtenay nodded and smiled. “Well done Mr Smith. Some of your lads that went ashore with me found cannon on the other side of the town, so they have the roadstead well covered. Yes, they will have to go but that is something Captain Fenwick will be dealing with. Very well, carry on doing what you have been, but remember, you are a slovenly lot, so no running around doing things at the double!”
The supplies came out to the brig during what on a Navy ship would have been the start of the forenoon watch. The men bringing out the supplies were in no hurry to load them, but Courtenay wanted to be away, so all hands turned to to get the supplies aboard. They were not of course needed anyway, but Courtenay had decided this was the easiest way to explain away the brig’s presence. Finally loaded, the men turned their attention to setting the brig’s sails, and with her anchor still dripping water from the bottom as it was catted home, the brig set her topsails, came about and sailed slowly for the open sea.
Courtenay strolled across the small quarterdeck and looked across at the frigate, knowing full well that all eyes would be on them as they left. He could see the sun glinting on at least one telescope’s lens and smiled broadly as he turned away. He thought for a moment, turned back and waved briefly. He heard Hawkins/Smith laugh briefly and turned to look at him. “Something amuse you Mr Smith?”
“Yes sir. I do believe they were waving back!”
“Excellent. They will be friendly when we return, hopefully, but they may not be quite so happy to see us!”
“Indeed not sir.” Hawkins/Smith turned to watch the set of the sails, but he need not have worried, because they were drawing perfectly, and the wake was as straight as an arrow with Trafford on the wheel.
“Best tack to the sou’west Mr Smith,” said Courtenay, ”since that is where I told Peron we were heading. Once we are out of sight we will head for the rendezvous area.”
“Then it will be time for the second part sir?”
“It will.”
The schooner Dolphin was seen first, sailing along the longitude that Courtenay had decided upon, and within a short while of contacting her, Arrow hove into sight. As the Mary Jane/Pollyana came up to her,
sails were taken and the two ships came to a rest within easy speaking distance. Priestley swung into the ratlines to hear better what Courtenay was shouting over.
“All went well Captain. That frigate is still there, and still pretending to be a Spanish Naval vessel. I have a message to be passed to Lieutenant Law which he will then take to Captain Fenwick. There are batteries at the head of the roadstead, on each side, 24-pounders your Senior thinks. Then there are batteries either side of the town. Act in accordance with your instructions. Have you any questions?”
“None sir, When do you wish to begin this part of the plan?”
“I wish to be in the roadstead again in time for the next moonless night, which Captain Fenwick’s Sailing Master assures me will be in a few days. Dolphin ought to be able to raise my flagship in the next day or so. We will begin tomorrow. In the meantime, set course to the south.”
“Aye aye sir!”
The message delivered to the lively schooner, she spread her fore and aft sail plan and was soon out of sight, heading slightly east of north to effect the junction with Alexander. Then she would go on to Balathia and collect Peter Minter, The following morning, the brig and Arrow set course to the south. Since Courtenay had told the Spaniard Peron that they were going to the south, it was of course only correct that the next part had to take place from there.
The sleepy town on the edge of Mondiana, and which was also named Mondiana, and which had the quite heavily defended roadstead and anchorage before the bay opened up to the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean was going about its usual daily business. That meant for the most part that traders were trying to sell their wares, prospective buyers were haggling over the prices, and many of the men of the town were relaxing in the many bars and cafes the small coastal town boated. Many of the soldiers that manned the guns that protected the town were Militia. They were fully trained, but save for a few, they were not a standing force. There were some fully trained artillery men who were on guard at the coastal batteries and many of their men slept and ate in some huts nearby, although the full force was not there permanently. There were sufficient to man the guns in an emergency, and the men being Militia, took it in turns to stay by the guns, working basically to a shift system. For the guns at the town, there were two officers with a number of men of the Militia under them, but they were not on duty unless called to arms. Usually, they were drunk by midday in any event!
Courtenay and the Mercenaries Page 19