The Scent of Betrayal Read online

  ‘Your present mission?’ said Harry.

  ‘I am here to rendezvous with two transports carrying troops from Havana.’

  Harry still didn’t give the Spaniard his undivided attention. Part of that was focused on the Navarro, with him quietly wondering what orders Fernandez had imparted which caused so much activity along her decks.

  ‘They are a day overdue,’ the Spaniard said, looking to the south, where his galleys now formed a line that blocked the route.

  ‘I expect they have been delayed by the same weather that slowed our voyage,’ said Harry, a remark which earned him a cold look.

  Fernandez put off from the Navarro and headed back to the fort, his eyes firmly fixed on the quarterdeck of Bucephalas. He was hardly ten feet away from the side before the signal broke out at the masthead. One of the galleys immediately dipped its oars and headed for the river mouth at an impressive pace.

  ‘Do you wish to take these things aboard your own ship?’ asked Harry, indicating the sea-chests and the box.

  De Barrameda shook his head emphatically. ‘No, Captain Ludlow. I would rather you kept them. The Governor will want to question you himself. It is better that everything you took out of the Gauchos stays with you aboard your own ship.’

  ‘Sail, Capt’n,’ called the lookout, ‘due south.’

  De Barrameda, having looked aloft, first at Bucephalas’ tops, then at his own, aimed a hard look at Navarro’s quarterdeck. He was upset that these ships should have been spotted by an Inglese first. This wasn’t helped when the lookout added: ‘Two sail, your honour.’

  The five seconds of embarrassed silence that followed seemed like an eternity as the Spaniard continued to glare, first at his own ship, then at the rest of his little fleet. Finally a cry came from one, which was immediately taken up by the others. This was followed by a bustle on deck of the Navarro. A man appeared at the bows and informed his Captain, in Spanish, what he’d already learned in English. Aloft, Harry’s lookout continued to reel off information about the approaching vessels, identifying them to de Barrameda’s satisfaction as the ships with which he was to rendezvous.

  ‘I must return to Navarro,’ he said abruptly.

  Harry waited for him to call across the intervening water for transportation, only to find himself on the receiving end of a cold stare.

  ‘The barge, if you please, Pender.’

  ‘Well, Harry, we are to be granted our wish, it seems. If we tell our Frenchmen we are going to New Orleans with them, they will jump for joy.’

  Harry didn’t even drop his telescope, nor did he respond. James concluded he had cares he was loathe to share, since, as usual, most of the crew had stayed as far aft as they dared. The Spanish ships were hull up now, closing the distance slowly, the wind having dropped considerably with the heat of the day. Occasionally Harry would turn his glass to look at the fort, now a distorted image in the haze. With the accommodation so low in relation to the wooden walls there was no way of telling accurately what was going on inside. Yet enough activity showed, with men running to and fro on the firesteps, to indicate some form of bustle. He could see the deck of the Navarro with his naked eye and there was nothing there to reassure him of San Lucar de Barrameda’s peaceful intentions, especially with the other three galleys still anchored across his stern. He stayed like this until the ships, broad-beamed merchant vessels, dropped anchor.

  Various signals were exchanged between the Spaniards, with the odd one including the garrison of Fort Balize. After several of these, each emphasised with a signal gun, the cutter put off from the island, with Fernandez again sitting in the stern. Two boats had been lowered from the merchantmen and all three converged on the Navarro, where a party of marines had lined up to do the honours. De Barrameda was on deck to greet the arrivals and Harry watched to see how they stood in relation to each other. It was all revealed in the bowing, with only one individual, in a buff military coat and a braided hat, of enough stature to get by with a mere nod of the head to the Spanish Captain. They then approached the cage on the foredeck. A bucket of water brought some life to the man inside, but not much, and after trading a few insults with him the whole party went below.

  ‘I dare say that we are a ripe topic of conversation, brother,’ said James. This time Harry turned to grin at him, as if to compensate for both his past and his continuing silence.

  ‘You may whisper to me if you wish, Harry.’

  The clash of metal as the marines presented arms made both men turn their heads sharply. De Barrameda was back on deck with the military officer. Fernandez followed in their wake. The two senior officers got into one boat while the garrison commander went aboard his own. A signal gun banged and Harry saw one of the merchantmen begin to weigh anchor. The master hauled round his yards and started to edge in towards the island, a leadsman in the chains. Boats were lowered from the other three ships and slipped into his wake. Fernandez was ahead of them all, on course for the fort. But the two senior officers were taking no part in this. They were heading straight for the side of Bucephalas.

  ‘El Señor Cayetano de Fajardo de Coburrabias.’

  ‘Brevity is not only the soul of wit,’ said James, so quickly and softly that only Harry picked it up. ‘A plainer appellation would do these men good.’

  ‘The military commander of the Louisiana Territory,’ added San Lucar de Barrameda, without warmth. ‘I have informed him of the unfortunate fate of the Gauchos. He has particularly asked to look at what you have discovered.’

  On being shown the raft, de Coburrabias examined it closely, all the while carrying on a heated conversation with de Barrameda. Even if he couldn’t understand it, Harry was listening hard, trying to establish the relationship, in terms of rank, of these two individuals. Clearly, judging by the icy tone of the exchange, there was little love lost between them. But neither one backed down to the other, which led him to conclude that they were equals. Finally, subjected to another pointed enquiry, de Barrameda threw up a hand in angry disgust and walked back towards the Ludlow brothers. As he spoke to them, he adopted the same tone as he’d used to his fellow countryman.

  ‘You have yet to tell me what you were doing in these waters.’

  Harry had to bite his tongue again, something that was hard for him judging by the look on his face. If the Spaniard noticed the effect of his condescension it didn’t show. And the mention of the Frenchmen and their desire to land at New Orleans had no effect either. De Coburrabias had joined the party and listened, seemingly without comprehension, to the exchange. Eventually, bored, he barked a question. De Barrameda actually flushed, to James’s mind showing for the first time that his body contained blood.

  ‘Captain Ludlow, you will have observed that one of the transports is approaching Fort Balize. We are about to change the garrison and Captain Fernandez will be coming upriver with us. I am about to request that he and his men travel aboard your ship.’

  Harry’s raised eyebrows forced him to adopt a faster mode of speech than suited his demeanour. ‘It is a request I have told El Señor de Coburrabias that you will be happy to comply with.’

  ‘That was rather presumptuous, sir,’ said Harry.

  ‘No more than the idea that we will welcome any more French immigrants. The troops can bed down on your deck, and will only be aboard for two days at most. I must tell you that I am the senior naval officer in these waters and it would not please me to insist.’

  Harry walked to the rail and looked toward the fort. The boats that had accompanied the merchant ship, with the addition of several flat-bottomed affairs from the Fort, were busy off-loading men, who were being rowed ashore. A queue had formed by a small jetty as those who were being taken off the island waited to fill the newly vacated craft.

  ‘Since the wind is fair for a passage upriver, Captain Ludlow, both Don Cayetano and I will go back to our ships. As soon as Captain Fernandez and his men are aboard you can get under way.’

  ‘Would I not do better to foll
ow you? After all, you know the river better than I.’

  ‘Never fear, Captain Ludlow,’ said de Barrameda, quickly. ‘The current is sluggish at this time of year, with the sandbanks plain to the naked eye. And I have to escort the other two vessels and be available to provide a tow if required. If you wish for a pilot, I can certainly provide you with one of my master’s assistants.’

  ‘That would be most kind,’ Harry replied.

  Another florid bow followed, before San Lucar de Barrameda shepherded his companion through the gangway. Harry waited till his gold-braided hat disappeared before turning to Pender.

  ‘Man the boats and get us off this damned sandbank. Clear the deck forward, as well. As soon as the soldiers are aboard stand by to get under way.’

  ‘Something tells me, Harry, that you’re not a happy man,’ said James.

  ‘I’m not, brother.’

  ‘Then let’s turn our helm and head south.’

  ‘Have a look at the deck of the Navarro, James. Observe how crowded it is in the bows.’

  ‘Particularly around the cannon.’

  ‘Quite. El Señor Felipe San Lucar de Barrameda intends that we should go to New Orleans, and take his soldiers with us, even if he has to persuade us to do so against our will.’

  ‘Did you see his face when you named the Gauchos?’

  ‘I did, James. And given that he’s such a cold fish, I have the distinct impression that it was carrying something more important than that poor wretch lashed to the raft.’

  ‘Is that the reason for the soldiers?’

  ‘It might be. But I could be worrying for nothing. Maybe it is that other peacock, de Coburrabias, who doesn’t want the men who’ve been here for a while mingling with his new draft from Havana.’

  ‘Must we obey him?’ James asked.

  ‘We are in shallow water, stuck on a sandbank, without charts I can put my trust in, with only light airs to fill our sails. Added to that we are stationary in the presence of four galleys that can not only bring to bear a great deal of firepower, but can get up speed immediately. And three of them are between us and the open sea. No, James. If I was going to defy our Spaniard I wouldn’t do it here and in these conditions.’

  The men clearing the foredeck had to move the raft, and one asked Harry where he wanted it stowed.

  ‘Break the damned thing up and throw it over the side,’ said Harry testily. ‘And stow the poor sod in canvas. But don’t touch his clothing.’

  James looked over the side again at the Navarro. ‘Does it occur to you that he might suspect us of being responsible for the sinking of the Gauchos, as well of the death of her Captain?’

  ‘Boat puttin’ off from Navarro,’ called the lookout.

  Harry paused for a second, to check that information, before replying to his brother’s question. ‘Then he’s a fool. What man in his right mind would sink a ship, sail towards its home port, show the evidence of his action openly on deck, then consent to an armed escort up a river like the Mississippi?’

  ‘So we establish our innocent credentials by compliance.’

  ‘Precisely. And as a favour for letting them know of Captain Rodrigo’s fate, and carrying the garrison of Fort Balize, they will allow us to disembark our Frenchmen.’

  ‘I wonder what it was aboard the Gauchos that was so important?’

  ‘I hardly think,’ said James, ‘that it was brown, sweet-tasting granules reminding you of sugar.’

  Harry replied gravely, as he felt Bucephalas rock gently as she floated clear of the sand bar, ‘Let’s hope that it wasn’t the women.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  JAMES WIPED the sweat from his brow, then eased his linen shirt to take advantage of the breeze. ‘Why in God’s name, Harry, did they settle so far upriver? There’s no wind around here at all and any number of places to build a settlement.’

  ‘You’re seeing the Mississippi at its most benign, brother. I’ve never had experience of it myself, but I’ve been told it can be fierce. In the spring those sandy banks over yonder are under ten feet of water and there’s a time when the current is so strong, and so full of debris, that any attempt to get upriver is fraught with peril.’

  ‘I rest my case,’ James replied.

  Perspiring himself in the humid atmosphere, Harry turned to the young man beside him at the wheel, a master’s mate from the Navarro. He, it seemed, suffered no ill effects from the humidity. In a combination of halting English, indifferent French, poor Spanish, and sign language, Harry repeated what he’d just said to James. The youngster was a native of northern Galicia, his mother tongue Basque. That gave him a strong accent which didn’t help matters. But both being sailors they managed to communicate, and a discussion confined to eddies and currents, sandbanks and submerged hazards, given the time available, didn’t tax them too greatly. Such a commodity as time was not at a premium. Bucephalas was making slow progress. The width of the river, a mile in some places, took most of the force out of the current. The wind, acting on his topsails, was enough to give him steerage-way, though not strong enough to cool the deck. Slight as the breeze was he was grateful for it. He knew that any drop in the southerly wind would mean he’d either have to put his boats out and tow, or heave to and wait. Even then it was flukeish, with the watercourses on either side, dark, moss-strewn caverns, providing vents that played tricks with the wind’s strength and direction. The high vegetation, if Harry sailed too close to the bank, could kill it altogether. If it turned foul he’d need to kedge his ships all the way to New Orleans, using his boats to drop an anchor upriver of Bucephalas, then putting his crew onto the capstan to haul them the length of the cable, a manoeuvre repeated time and again as he inched his way north.

  He looked towards the bowsprit, to the filthy Cuban soldiers lounging in the shade of an awning. As a group they gave the impression that they hadn’t washed for months. Not one of their uniforms was clear of patches, all of which had begun life as different colours, and because of the climate the dye from these had seeped into the surrounding cloth. Had those colours not been so universally faded some would have looked like Harlequin. Harry wondered if their state was more to do with their last posting than any natural inclination against cleanliness. But then he saw Fernandez, with his hang-dog air and a uniform that was only marginally better than those of his troops. Their commander did nothing to elevate them as a group. Harry promised himself if the wind dropped then he would get hold of Fernandez and tell him to man the boats and tow. Harry’d discovered, from his Galician, that the reasons they were aboard Bucephalas were much as he’d suspected. Fernandez had got into trouble for beating one of his men near to death and was now in even hotter water because he’d allowed several men to desert from the island. Both in appearance and morale they were certainly not the kind of troops any sensible commander would want mixing with a new draft.

  Behind him the merchantmen, with their broad beam and inelegant sail-plan, were finding things even harder. Bringing up the rear, the advantage held by the Navarro and her consorts could not have been more obvious. They put out their sweeps at every point where the river’s course made the use of sail difficult, and manoeuvred round the sandbanks with an ease that made Harry jealous. At least they’d cut down their pirate prisoner. Not that he was afforded any protection from the elements, being still confined, now comatose, to the foredeck cage.

  Looking around, and imagining the flood waters in spring, it was obvious why so few people settled here: the lack of any high bank plus the marshy nature of the low-lying delta islands. Each island would certainly have elevated ground at the centre, but in this part of the world that was measured in inches, not feet. Sometimes these mounds would be by the water’s edge. Where that happened the riverbank had generally been cleared to build a house. In the main these were sad affairs, tumbledown and surrounded by squalid outbuildings, all showing signs of the decrepitude such a sub-Tropical climate induced. But the further north they went the more successful the planter
s, and some had built substantial mansions. They were singular in their design, a compromise between the memory of European dwellings and the requirements of a wholly different climate. Where the houses had an element of grandeur, the owners had taken trouble with the land between them and the river, laying lawns. Given the rich alluvial soil, the grass that this produced was thick and deep in colour, running down to a thin strip of sand where a jetty would protrude over the muddy brown water of the river.

  Naturally, since nearly all local transport was water-borne, they passed a mass of small craft using the Mississippi as a highway. In the main these were pirogues, whole trees dug out to form canoes, with one or two Europeans in the middle and blacks at each end to work the oars. The more substantial boats, in width and length the dimensions of an armed cutter, carried both humans and freight; their blunt prow and position, generally inshore at the point where the current was weakest, showed clearly that they were flat-bottomed affairs, perfectly suited to the moss-strewn waterways, termed bayous, that ran off the main rivercourse on both sides. Harry climbed into the tops to get a better view as they passed the fortifications at Plaquemines. The redoubts were scarcely whole, the bastions mounted few cannon, and the set-up had a delapidated air which bespoke of a place that, to official thinking, had outlived its usefulness.

  They had to heave to for the night, just to the south of one of the islands – the young Galician pilot insisted on it, so that nothing floating downriver could collide with their hull. Since flotsam could include whole trees weighing several tons, it was a wise precaution. Navarro, along with the other galleys, all well lit, lay close by, their decks deserted, barring the watch officers, though judging by the noise from below the crews were in no hurry to get any sleep. The other ships were dark and silent. Fireflies danced in the evening air, which, close to thick vegetation, was filled with the sounds of the night, the cries of the birds mingling with the grunts and calls of animals, all overborne by the slightly sickly smell of a fecund, rotting swamp.