Betrayal tk-13 Page 24

  Now it was all down to the cupidity of the Spanish captain, so eager to cap his day by taking both craft. They were passing the end of the island, where the long finger of a point entered the water. And Kydd now remembered the significance of the wind backing northerly: in this vast funnel of sea an easterly blowing in would have a heaping effect on the mass of water, resulting in a greater depth. With this backing to the north, it would be released and-The effect of several hundred tons of ship striking at speed on the underwater spine of rocks was dramatic. Instantly the ship slewed and the foremast, bowed forward under press of sail, fell majestically, quickly followed by the main, transforming a fine creature of the sea to a ruin.

  Disbelieving yells of triumph went up and the young captain turned to Kydd with such admiration that he felt a blush rising. ‘Sir – you knew he’d follow.’

  ‘Then let it be a lesson to you, sir,’ he said modestly.

  Flames were now shooting up from the fore-deck of the grounded sloop and the boats coming out from the shore were hanging back – as Kydd had intended: the fore magazine was not far from where they had started the fire.

  Selby looked over at the distant figures clambering disconsolately over the wreckage of the other. ‘Sir, shall we … ?’

  ‘No, my friend, we’ll leave ’em to it.’ There was no point in finishing it – both sloops put down was a quite acceptable result. In any case, there was still something he had to do.

  When they arrived, Dolores was still aground but now quite deserted and ready to be restored to the British flag.

  ‘Mr Garrick – do you desire to take up your command again?’

  There was little damage aboard for it appeared the Spanish had been more concerned with searching for booty and keeping their prize in good condition. All it took was a modicum of skilful seamanship to have her towed off the bank.

  Kydd swelled with satisfaction. Even in the face of his little fleet there was no chance Liniers would risk a crossing now. Let the Army strut and parade: it was the Navy that had held the line.

  When they arrived back at the mole Kydd could feel an oppressive, uneasy atmosphere. As he reached the waterfront he caught averted glances, lowered voices, the sudden stilling of laughter. Things were changing fast.

  He went to his billet. It was the same there, a stiff disinclination in the ladies of the house for conversation, the children running off, and Rodriguez formidably polite but of few words. Kydd left quickly.

  At the fort, Beresford was still out on inspection and Kydd wearily made his way to the officers’ mess to take a meal and seek company.

  On seeing his Royal Marines lieutenant he called over, ‘Ah – Mr Clinton. Might I sup with you?’

  ‘I’d be honoured, sir.

  ‘We’ve just heard of your success on the other shore and we’ll all rest the better for it.’

  ‘Thank you. A diverting occasion for a clerking warrior, I’m bound to say.’ Kydd turned his attention to the food – a hot breakfast would be a welcome change, but the egg that was placed before him was small and discoloured with an unmistakable reek. ‘Stale and off, damn it. Steward!’

  Clinton looked uncomfortable ‘Sir. I beg you – he’s not to be blamed. The situation with victuals is getting insupportable, the city market near deserted, and we dare not go into the country to secure our own. I fancy we’ll be on short canny before long.’

  Kydd sat back in dismay. That it had come to this so quickly was a serious development.

  Clinton went on, ‘All the transports have been stripped of provisions and been sent up and down the country to try to get more at any price, but in a hostile province I think not.’

  ‘Has the commodore-’

  ‘Yes, he’s been informed,’ the lieutenant said matter-of-factly. Naturally it was squarely the senior officer’s problem. He ventured, ‘Sir, should you wish to take the temper of Buenos Aires we could go for a stroll and …’

  Kydd felt he was being invited for a reason and fell in with the suggestion. They walked out of the fort into the main square. Here again there were few people: a handful of forlorn basket traders, a couple of children running and the familiar grind of the high-wheeled water carts. For the rest there was an uncanny silence.

  They passed into a minor street and heard the tramp of boots, the squeal of fife and drums. As they emerged on to a main street they saw a broad column of redcoats with a splendidly ornamented sergeant major to the fore. The few people watching stared dully or turned their backs.

  Clinton snapped to attention, Kydd did the same, and they were acknowledged with screamed commands and a salute by the sergeant major. The soldiers marched stolidly along in widely spaced threes, not at all with the crisp professionalism Kydd had come to expect from these veteran troops. As they passed he recognised, to his astonishment, L’Aurore’s purser’s steward stepping it out in a corporal’s tunic and, further on, the duty coxswain.

  ‘Daily we rope in every idler we can find – servant, boat-boy, shore party – dress ’em up in uniforms and ask them to march about for a period. Notice how they’re spaced apart. We hope it gives the locals the impression we’ve numbers beyond what we really have,’ Clinton explained.

  ‘I see.’

  ‘I must allow it’s a powder-keg, sir. Forty thousand kept at bay by one and a half. If they take it into their heads …’

  Kydd nodded gravely, then asked, ‘Er, by now you know Buenos Aires well enough?’

  ‘Why, there’s continuous streets and buildings all of two miles long and a half wide, and it spreads out far into the country. You’ll be wondering how we keep watch and ward, I fancy. Well, as to that, the general desires that we make a presence everywhere we can, so we’ve posts on the roads regulating entry into here, and roving patrols and sentries at important locations. I’ve stood sentry-go as a private myself, just to see the lie of the land, but our biggest problem is men. Even in two watches we can’t really secure a city this large.’

  ‘Are the men in good heart?’

  ‘They’re doing their duty, sir,’ Clinton said firmly.

  ‘Do sit and take a taste of wine, Mr Kydd,’ Beresford mumbled, through his food. ‘I’ve not yet eaten today, and I’m clemmed.’

  He finished his modest meal quickly and turned to Kydd. ‘A capital action against the ship-sloops, sir. We’re safe – for now. You’ve heard of our difficulties with provisioning?’

  ‘Sir.’

  ‘The commodore has sent the victuallers Elizabeth and Mary on a cruise to chase up supplies but I’m not sanguine we’ll find any in the province. I’m persuaded they’ll need to go to Rio, possibly as far as Cape Town.’

  Kydd had his doubts about the Cape. There would probably be little enough to be found even at that distance, so soon after it had been taken: there hadn’t been a harvest and the Capetonians were still on thin times. But what else could the defenders do?

  ‘Rations are vital, of course, but what worries me is that we’ve no line to other military stores. We’re quite on our own with what we’ve brought with us. For instance, I’ve taken the precaution of buying up all the gunpowder I can lay hands on among the merchantmen lying here. What I’ll do for the other I cannot say.’

  ‘Sir, we’ve only to hold on for the reinforcements.’

  ‘Ah, the reinforcements. And when do you conceive they’ll be here? If I knew, we could make our dispositions – as it is, we’re forced to plan for months. If you’ve any ideas, I’d be glad to hear them.’

  Kydd said ruefully, ‘St Helena?’

  ‘We’ve sent Jane there but they’re East India Company, not set up for Crown supply. No, it has to be comprehended that we’re in a devilish pickle.’

  ‘The slaves – are they to be added to our colours?’

  ‘No. The local merchantry plead their economy will be overset should they lose their services. I’ve had to let them keep their slaves. A good thing, too,’ he said absently. ‘I couldn’t feed ’em.’

  Topping up
the general’s wine, Kydd commented, ‘A sullen enough crew about town, I’ve noticed. I’m puzzled to know just what it is that’s made them set their faces against us.’

  Beresford sighed. ‘Hard to say. At a guess, I’d presume it’s something to do with the Dons’ pride, that we’ve taken the place with so few. And what we’re offering of prosperity and freedom does not weigh that much with them.’

  ‘They’ve the chance to rid themselves of Spanish rule and they refuse it?’

  ‘Ah, yes. This they would value above all things, but they are asking too much of me.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘There are many who would accept us, possibly the majority of the better class, but first they desire a guarantee of protection against reprisal from the Spanish, should they return. This I cannot on my honour sign up to, as it is not within my power to defend against everything unforeseeable.’ He sighed. ‘Therefore that puts paid to any hope of a harmonious future. So, none will be seen to collaborate with us for fear of retribution later.’

  Kydd knew what he was saying. ‘Like Guadeloupe when the French returned. The streets ran red for weeks I’ve heard.’ He had been a young seaman on the island when …

  Beresford sniffed and added sourly, ‘And those priests are a pestilential lot. They’re making open offer of a place in the country and a new wife if a soldier deserts his post and takes off his hat to the pope. I’m sorry to say there’s been more than one Irishman think it the better bargain, the senoritas being so obliging.’

  Abruptly he stood up. ‘Hard times, but we have our duty.’

  Chapter 11

  ‘You are quite clear, amado mio, what we must do?’ Rafaela said, her voice breaking with intensity.

  ‘Of course,’ Serrano replied, although in his nervousness his hands were working together.

  ‘You will wait at Los Tres Reyes and I will bring the English captain to you. Now, don’t forget-’

  ‘Mi rosa, you do your part and I will do mine. I shall not fail Don Baltasar.’

  They walked together in a wary silence through the shabby streets, then separated towards the centre. The city was unusually quiet and had an air of tension and dread that played on Serrano’s mind. He tried to tell himself that it was safer now: he was known where it counted as an agent of the patriots and need not fear them. But was it really true that they were in sacred alliance with the loyalists, whose hatred had seen him exiled?

  Distant sounds of a military column marching came echoing through the streets. In a panic he hid in a side alley while the tramping feet went by – he had no idea how the British must regard him now. It was Rafaela’s job to feel for this before she brought Captain Kydd to the back room of the tavern. The column seemed endless: there must be many thousand troops in the city – and now they were his sworn enemy.

  ‘I say, for the ears of Captain Keed only!’ Rafaela snapped at the fortress guard. She stood there stubbornly until eventually an important-looking naval officer and a plainly dressed man descended.

  ‘?Senorita, que quieres con el capitan?’

  Ignoring him she addressed the officer directly. ‘Dona Rafaela Callejo, an’ I have informacion for you, Captain Keed.’ He was a handsome man with a strong, open face that paradoxically allowed her fears to subside a little.

  ‘How do you know my name?’ he challenged.

  She said nothing.

  ‘Very well, I’ll see her inside,’ Kydd told the translator, and led the way to his office.

  ‘Now, what is it you have to tell me, Miss Callejo?’

  Rafaela adjusted her shawl. He looked directly at her, no play with the eyes or attempt to dominate or charm, and she felt a twinge of guilt at what she was about to do. ‘Sir, you know my lover. Vicente Serrano.’

  ‘I do,’ Kydd said cautiously. ‘He left my ship some time ago.’

  ‘Yes. To reach los patriotas. I am to tell you he was not in time for your attack and only now has arrive in Buenos Aires.’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it.’

  ‘You’re not angry wi’ him?’

  Kydd shook his head. ‘No. We had to sail quickly. These things happen in war.’

  ‘Capitan, he wish to do more. To help King George against the Spanish so they can be throw from our country!’ She smiled winningly. ‘Sir, he is hiding, he frighten that someone will see him if he come to the fort.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘He know you, he trust you. Sir, will you see him at all?’

  Serrano stood up when Kydd and Rafaela entered, his nervousness allayed by her smile.

  ‘Captain Keed! I, er …’ But all his imaginings for a suave line of questioning leading to secrets fled before the reality of facing the man he was about to betray.

  ‘You wanted to help us against the Spanish?’ Kydd prompted.

  ‘Er, yes, sir.’

  ‘Then I’m not at all sure what you can do unless first you tell us.’

  ‘I – um, then what is your problem, may I ask?’ Serrano blurted.

  ‘That must be finding victuals for the soldiers – bread and spirit, provisions. We’re in much need – but this is not something you can help us with, I fear, unless you know of secret stores or such,’ Kydd finished hopefully.

  ‘I will try. Thank you, sir – thank you!’ he spluttered, the excitement in him building while Rafaela looked on in bafflement.

  ‘And if you ever hear of mischief from the Spanish …’

  ‘Yes, yes. Goodbye, sir, goodbye!’

  Blinking, Kydd allowed himself to be escorted outside by Rafaela, who hurried back afterwards.

  ‘What are you doing, you fool?’ she blazed. ‘Where are the secrets to tell Don Baltasar? You should have-’

  Serrano gazed back with a saintly smile. ‘I have the biggest of all, mi bella flor,’ he said, challenging her with his eyes.

  ‘What is this big secret then?’ She pouted.

  ‘Only that I’m to tell General Liniers to order his soldiers to rest easy. There will be no battles, no mortal struggle with the English.’

  ‘What are you saying? This is lunatic, Vicente!’

  ‘Tonight I shall leave in the fishing boat and at dawn I shall be speaking to the general directly,’ he declared. ‘You shall wait for my return.’

  Colonia del Sacramento was now overwhelmed by an armed encampment that extended far out into the country. As Serrano was escorted through it he was thrilled by the sight of legendary regiments, soldiers in blue with red sashes, drilling proudly, and countless volunteers in their tall shakos, with their muskets a-slope, led by officers in magnificently plumed headgear.

  Over to the right the blandengues, the veteran frontier militia, had their distinctive poled tents in rows, and in the distance cavalry thundered in mock charges. These blandengues had just completed a forced march over the ninety miles from Montevideo to Colonia but showed no sign of it.

  Serrano threw out his chest: he was not in a fine uniform but he knew he had tidings for the commander in chief that would affect every last one of them.

  Approaching the headquarters tent, he saw Guemes talking to an officer and waved gaily. His friend looked back at him in astonishment and Serrano felt his gaze follow him into the tent.

  Several distinguished-seeming officers stood over a desk where an older man in a severe black uniform, finished in gold and scarlet, was seated, writing.

  ‘Sir, an agent from Buenos Aires with news.’

  ‘Wait.’

  The man finished scratching away, then thrust a paper at one of the officers before looking up at the intruder.

  ‘Don Santiago Liniers!’ whispered someone behind Serrano.

  ‘Sir. I have to report …’

  ‘Well?’ The voice was soft and calm.

  Encouraged, Serrano went on, ‘Sir, there is no need for a battle, sir.’

  There were gasps and a stifled giggle.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I, personally, have interviewed the capitan de puerto himself and
have made discovery that the treacherous English are in dire want of any kind of provisions. I put it to you, sir, that it is only a matter of a short while and they will be starved out. If we are patient, they must soon surrender to us, and without a drop of our own blood shed.’

  ‘What do you know of military affairs?’ snarled one of the officers. ‘Leave us to-’

  Serrano’s face burned.

  ‘No, no, Miguel, he means well. Tell me, what account of the present state of their stores can you give me? How many men are on rations? Where is it kept? Can they supply from the sea? These things I need to know for if we wait longer we must find more supply for our own army.

  ‘And the biggest question is, when will their reinforcements arrive? If you can tell me the answer to that it would be of the greatest service. As it is, I must go forward without delay on the assault, you see.’

  A tall officer bent down and whispered to Liniers, who nodded and said, ‘There is an office you can perform for me, as it happens.’

  ‘Anything, sir!’

  ‘You’ll no doubt be aware that our naval forces at Colonia suffered in a recent reversal at arms. This has had the unfortunate effect of frustrating our strategy to cross the Rio de la Plata and join with our brothers for the grand assault on Buenos Aires. I would not have them think we are unwilling and therefore I shall write a message of encouragement and patience, which I desire you shall take to them.’

  ‘Sir!’ said Serrano, stiffening to attention.

  ‘It will be to Colonel General Pueyrredon, commander of the Voluntarios Montados Bonaerense.’

  ‘The gauchos?’

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘We’ll stand on a little further, I believe,’ Acting Lieutenant Hellard said evenly, watching the three craft fleeing ahead of him, each not much smaller than his own and which, together, could overcome Stalwart, the sumaca, if they chose – but they were at a crucial disadvantage: they faced the moral superiority of the famed Royal Navy that had the year before at Trafalgar crushed the best that Spain could send against it. These would never chance a confrontation.

  The chill wind was getting stronger, tearing the tops from the waves – it gave speed to the more stoutly built sumaca but was threatening the odd assortment they were chasing: two feluccas whose soaring lateens could not easily be reefed and a balandra, a more European-styled cutter. All were clawing into the wind, the edges of their sails fluttering desperately, pale faces looking back on their implacable pursuer.