14-Caribbee: A Kydd Sea Adventure Page 19

  Renzi smiled back, but spread his hands sorrowfully in incomprehension. ‘Sorry, sorry. You spik Engleesh, I unnerstand.’

  As if he was to be fooled by that old trick.

  ‘Merde. Go and find someone with German for this imbecile,’ the young man said, and, with another sharp look at Renzi, left.

  The swirl of the day resumed: voices raised, orders loudly given amid much bustle. Renzi caught snatches of what was being said, every bit worth hearing.

  ‘… the admiral said … took a fat sugar scow off Morant … get this signal off … he must be at the rendezvous point as agreed by …’

  It was conclusive. He had both heard and seen enough. This was indeed the tactile reality and proof of what he had logically foreseen. Sudden impatience seized him – but then he realised that the greatest danger was yet to come: if the German speaker was a native, could he keep up the pretence?

  A cold wash of apprehension went over him. He was comfortable with the Hochdeutsch of Goethe but city slang was beyond him.

  Footsteps approached and the young man brought in a nervous waiter, still in his apron.

  ‘Guten Tag. Wie heißt du?’ he asked, after prompting.

  Renzi felt a flood of relief. The man was Alsatian with an atrocious accent.

  He beamed. ‘My name is Haugwitz, a merchant of Bremen. Do tell these gentlemen that I have no wish to intrude, merely to ask the way to this address.’ He handed over the paper with a winning smile.

  It was passed across for scrutiny. The young man looked up, then reached out for Renzi’s case.

  ‘Tell Monsieur Haugwitz that I am admiring his satchel. Where was it made at all?’ He detached it from Renzi’s grasp and rummaged inside while Renzi nervously allowed that it was a family heirloom, passed down from his father and therefore from Oldenburg.

  The papers inside were riffled through, then replaced and the case handed back. ‘Tell him he’s a fool to turn east, the apothecary is to the west – over the channel in Otrabanda. Show him out, and point him in the right direction.’

  It was translated and Renzi made much of thanking all in sight. Smothering a sigh of relief, he gave a friendly wave and set out once more.

  Chapter 9

  Mysterious land under their lee, the three frigates glided quietly inshore, a thickening in the gloom of a moonless night. As one, sail was struck and their anchors tumbled down – the Curaçao expedition came to its rest.

  ‘Well, now, Nicholas. How do you feel that you’ve caused an armada such as this to stir?’ Kydd said, in a tone that suggested he was only half in jest. They were together on deck, watching as the ship secured from sea.

  ‘If truth be told, rather less than overjoyed, brother.’

  ‘Since your report I’ve never seen Dacres so far heated. Volleys orders in all directions like musket fire, rages at his flag-lieutenant for not performing miracles and conjures another frigate from somewhere for the final assault.’ Kydd shook his head in wonder. ‘What was it you told him?’

  ‘Naught but what I witnessed. It was not a conversation I’d like to repeat and I’m glad to be out of it now, having done my duty.’

  ‘How so?’ Kydd asked curiously.

  ‘Well, if you must know, he made me swear on my honour to the truth of what I was telling him, high words about a gentleman’s honour and so forth. An inquisition to which I’m unaccustomed, dear fellow.’

  ‘You can surely see that he’s concerned he’s not following some fantastical logical theory that will be laughed at later if—’

  ‘I know what I saw and heard.’

  ‘Yes, but he’s to mount an invasion of Curaçao as the only means he has to lay hands on the villains running your operation. The expense of such has to be justified to their lordships of the Admiralty later, of course, and to take up precious men-o’-war at this time is not a trivial matter, old trout.’

  Renzi smiled thinly. ‘Quite. I do observe, however, that he is letting it be generally known that this is a strike for empire against the Dutch, and keeping quiet about the other. I’d like to think it’s a ploy to protect his intelligence source, but rather suspect it to be a way of keeping face should we fail in our larger object.’

  ‘You’re being hard on the man, Nicholas. With no other in support o’ your theory, can you blame him for steering small?’

  ‘Umm. So we are three frigates only?’

  ‘It will be four. Fisgard joins us here as soon as she can. While we could have ships-of-the-line, should we ask, we need frigates as can sail up the channel.’

  ‘Is that Aruba?’ Renzi said, looking at the island that loomed in the blackness.

  ‘A place of assembly only. One of your three Dutch islands with Bonaire. It’s a night’s sail from Curaçao – don’t want ’em dismayed before time. If they tumble to what we’re about, they won’t know which island we’re making motions towards.’

  ‘So, four frigates to set against an enemy who’s ashore with, I’m obliged to remark, a plenitude of forts and guns? It will be a singular plan indeed that sets sail against soldiers.’

  ‘Well, we won’t be long in the waiting. All captains will come together in an hour to hear of it.’

  ‘Aboard the saucy Arethusa?’

  ‘The same. Charles Brisbane. Never met the fellow, but heard he was with Nelson at Bastia, and not so long before we arrived, with Lydiard in Anson, took the Spanish frigate Pomona from under the guns of Moro Castle at Havana, a fine piece of work. Well trusted by Dacres, which is why he has this command.’

  ‘So – Arethusa, Anson, Fisgard and ourselves, no soldiers, no artillery, no horses …’

  ‘More than a match, don’t you think?’

  It was with a twinge of envy that Kydd came aboard Arethusa.

  This famous ship, subject of ballad and many a fore-bitter sea-song, was a heavy frigate and it showed. Besides guns half the size again of L’Aurore’s, her every dimension was bigger – length, beam, spars, anchors and accommodation. The grandest, Captain Brisbane’s own great cabin, was no exception and was furnished as to be expected of a successful senior captain with prize money to spare.

  The man was tall and carried himself with a peculiar intensity, his eyes large and expressive. He was an impeccable host and quickly settled his guests to a small but well-planned supper.

  Soon Kydd found himself reminiscing with the amiable Brisbane about Jervis, the irascible Lord St Vincent, while the older man brought to mind in an amusing way the Great Siege of Gibraltar so many years before.

  He knew Lydiard of Anson, of course, and after giving a modest account of Trafalgar, he heard in return of him in an eighteen-gun sloop assisting a British warship in an epic battle against an enemy frigate that had ended when it finally struck. As luck would have it, it was recounted, when boats were lowered to take possession a damaged fore-mast fell and the French took the opportunity to re-hoist colours and make their escape.

  ‘Right, gentlemen,’ Brisbane said, as supper things were cleared away and a light Madeira was produced. ‘I rather think it time to talk about the morrow. This is not by way of a council-of-war but your acquainting with my plan, which, should it fail, will be my responsibility entirely.’

  It needed saying: a council-of-war implied a shared liability. Brisbane was not a commodore and had no other authority than that of senior captain but was making it clear he was taking the burden for failure entirely on himself.

  ‘The first matter that we must touch on is—’

  A distant wail of boatswain’s pipes sounded faint and clear. ‘Ah – that must be William now. Stout fellow, he must have cracked on sail quite unreasonably to be with us.’

  He waited until there was a polite knock at the door and a pleasant, much-weathered officer appeared.

  ‘Ah, yes. Gentlemen – Captain Bolton of Fisgard, who cannot abide to be overlooked in the article of fighting.’

  After introductions were complete, Brisbane resumed:

  ‘As I was about to say,
I would have you under no misapprehension as to the main objective of this descent on Curaçao.’

  There were puzzled looks and he went on quickly, ‘Which is, you’ll be surprised to learn, not to add further conquest to His Majesty’s dominions but for quite another reason. I have confidential instructions from Admiral Dacres that direct me to turn my best endeavours to the locating and extirpation of a secret base from which the French are conducting a species of guerre de course by naval means against our sugar trade.’

  He cut short the general stir. ‘This is the reason why we have been so singularly unsuccessful in our protection, being unknowingly beset by a fleet operation under naval direction when we expected it to be privateers of the common sort. This must be stopped or we suffer ruinous loss to our commerce at great hazard to our conduct of the war as a whole.’

  ‘Charles, would it be impertinent to enquire as to how we’ve gained possession of this information?’ Lydiard asked.

  ‘I’m told it’s from a source of intelligence that the admiral considers of the highest quality. I conceive it may be relied upon, old fellow.’

  ‘Then—’

  ‘Then it does colour the nature of our assault. We have the location of the base and it is my intention that, once we have penetrated their defences, we hold while we send a flying column to surround and destroy the operation, after which time we withdraw.’

  He considered for a moment, then added, with a wolfish smile, ‘That is, unless we are sanguine that we have succeeded beyond the ordinary. In which case our assault might then be better termed an invasion.’

  Kydd warmed to the man. Here was a leader who was not going to let opportunities pass for want of enterprise.

  ‘Let’s talk now of what we face. The harbour of Willemstad is called the Schottegat and is in the nature of an inland water of considerable extent. The only entrance is a mile-long channel, a hundred yards or so wide at best. On the right side is the older main town, on the left extensive civil works. The town is protected by Fort Amsterdam, a large fort at the seaward entrance of the channel to the right. It rates two tiers of sixty guns in all. There’s another, Fort Republiek, even bigger, at the other end of the channel, also on the right.’

  ‘So we land on the left?’ Bolton said.

  ‘Ah, no. With both forts on the right, the Hollanders will feel sure we’ll land up the coast on the left, form up and advance on them. Without a doubt they’ve their soldiery there, waiting to welcome us. I’ve a notion we’re to surprise ’em and take the direct route to the right.’

  ‘In the teeth of these forts? A brazen move, I believe,’ Lydiard drawled.

  ‘You think so? But then our hand is forced – it’s to the right a mile or so that the base is located.’

  ‘Er, we’ve heard nothing of their sea forces,’ Kydd interposed, remembering what Renzi had said about seeing a thirty-six-gun frigate in the harbour.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Brisbane replied airily. ‘A twenty-two-gun corvette and a thirty-six-gun frigate were mentioned. These may inconvenience and will have to be silenced, of course.’

  Kydd started. This was not a plan: it was a disaster in the making. Was he the death-or-glory type that every sailor feared?

  Lydiard seemed uneasy, too, and said carefully, ‘An attack from the front against a prepared enemy is a perilous undertaking at any time, Charles. Could not the main objective be secured by other means – for instance, by the privy landing of a party at night to take the base and its people?’

  ‘I rather fear the risk is too great.’

  ‘The risk?’

  ‘That in failing it would alert the Dutch to what we’re chiefly about. No, this cannot be allowed. We go forward as before.’

  ‘If the objective is so important,’ Kydd interjected, ‘might we not delay until we can rouse up some military reinforcement and be sure of it?’

  ‘It is because it is so important that we cannot tolerate delay, dear chap.’

  He suddenly grinned. ‘To see you all so mumchance is diverting in the extreme. Let me ease your concerns a little. I have given this much thought and come to the conclusion that to do the opposite of what they expect is our best chance. In this case they will be reckoning that we stand off and salute them with a long cannonade, then send in troops to contest the field in the most obvious place – the clear flat ground to the left of the channel.’

  ‘And instead?’

  ‘You will have noticed that the channel orients down to the sou’-sou’-west. With the present easterly we may count on a fair wind to sail on directly inside at the first whisper of daylight. Now, if I were the Dutch commander I’d situate his thirty-six somewhere near the entrance, moored a-crossways to offer his broadside to any unwelcome guest, supported by the corvette in likewise pose.’

  ‘Sealing off the channel to us? A hard thing to face.’

  ‘No, for he can’t impede access by his own shipping and must leave a space. Where they can go, so can we. Consider – without warning we appear out of the dawn and without a by-your-leave boldly continue on into the channel, past the fort, past the ships, all of which need time to close up for action. Too late! The town lies under our guns.’

  ‘And then?’ Bolton said coolly. ‘We’ve marines, armed seamen – do we then at our leisure step ashore and take the capital?’

  ‘I shall be clearer. The flying column lands and makes straight for the base. That is essential. The rest depends on planning and forethought, with the ability to change objectives at short notice. As I said, I’ve given it much consideration. Here are the details, gentlemen.’

  Brisbane produced a scheme from his desk that was a model of military planning. Each ship had its own task: Arethusa would lead and tackle the thirty-six. L’Aurore, the lightest, would follow with the vital task of landing the flying column when practicable. The heavyweight Anson would be next, anchoring mid-channel to menace the worst of the opposition, while Fisgard would take the rear and go to the support of any in difficulty.

  At the individual level, each ship’s company’s Royal Marines and seamen would be divided between ‘boarders’ and ‘stormers’ and a skeleton working crew, enabling snap decisions to be made on the spot for their deployment depending on progress.

  ‘And when the forts wake up?’ Lydiard said, with a half-smile. ‘When we’re at anchor at point-blank range? This is a target even a militiaman may not miss.’

  ‘An observation well made,’ Brisbane said smoothly. ‘This is why each ship will contribute to a party armed with crowbars and axes who will force entrance into the sea-gate of Fort Amsterdam through the portcullis while the Fisgards storm the rear of the fortress with ladder and grapnel.’

  There were gasps but whether in shock or admiration it was difficult to tell.

  ‘Recollecting that this fort is intended to defend to seaward – we shall be assaulting from landward.’

  ‘And the other?’ persisted Lydiard.

  ‘Fort Republiek will be helpless, as being unable to fire on account of ourselves being within the town limits.’

  In the cool of the night, there was a gentle, lulling heave to the sea and it seemed preposterous to believe that they had any kind of a chance – Kydd’s experience at the assault and conquest of another Dutch outpost of empire, Cape Town, had shown him how only the professional military had what it took to conduct an advance on the enemy in their own territory. By comparison they were amateurs – courageous, spirited and intelligent, but amateurs for all that.

  ‘Everything depends on our forcing entry past the fort,’ Bolton said slowly. ‘If we knew that was assured …’

  ‘It’ll be assured if we do it,’ Kydd snapped. ‘Clap on all sail and press on and we can’t fail.’

  Unsaid was what would happen if they penetrated into the desperately restricted waters inside but then found it untenable to remain. To turn completely about by some means and effect a retreat under overwhelming fire …

  As morning imperceptibly lightened the t
ropical seascape in a soft violet, the four frigates hove to ten miles off Curaçao, south of Willemstad and the channel, and safely out of sight.

  There was that preternatural heightening of the senses as always felt before an action, but Kydd had much to occupy his mind.

  Details: the division of seamen into boarders and stormers, the equipping of the boatswain’s party with the right gear, the clearing away of an anchor for rapid letting go and more – down to the colour of the field sign that each man would wear.

  Last, every single boat the ship possessed was put into the water for towing.

  They were ready.

  Brisbane was not one for ceremony, and it was his single flag ‘preparative’ whipping down in Arethusa that set the little armada on its way.

  By degrees the light strengthened, and when they made landfall, visibility in the mists of morning was enough. Formless as a dream, the rumpled coast gradually took on reality. The channel entrance was impossible to miss, the gentle fall each side in the even run of the shoreline unmistakable – as was the squat menace of Fort Amsterdam firming out of the haze.

  They were committed.

  Arethusa took the lead, L’Aurore fell in close astern and the others followed, arrowing on a line of bearing straight for the channel entrance. A quiet torpor seemed to lie on the day-fresh landscape – not a thing moved. They came closer; a Dutch flag drooped atop the fort. Arethusa and each ship following had battle-ensigns a-fly but hoisted at the main-mast head of each was a large white flag of truce, a legitimate move that Brisbane hoped would confuse and delay any response. But it was at the cost of preventing any British ship opening fire while such a flag flew.

  Nearer still, and not a gun had fired. Ahead, however, by the seaward entrance, just as Brisbane had foreseen, the thirty-six was moored athwart, its broadside squarely across their track. Beyond, the spars of the corvette were in a similar position, and both had left a space clear for ships to pass.