The Scent of Betrayal Read online

  Harry and James, having just finished their supper, ruminated on the Frenchman and the vexed subject of their money. Basically, they were presented with a problem they’d never anticipated. Harry, intent on getting them to Louisiana, had assumed that a time would arrive when he would just hand it over to them, the method of getting it ashore a problem that could safely be left to the owners. That was a reasonable assumption when talking about an uncomplicated landing at a sleepy outpost like Fort Balize, not at all the same thing when faced with the organised customs officials of a major port. The unwholesome vision presented itself of the Ariadnes, artisans and tradesmen without any knowledge or experience of business, standing on the New Orleans quayside with a fortune of dubious provenance at their feet. At best they’d be defrauded by some local shark, at worst awkward questions would be posed about how they’d come by such a sum. That could lead to all sorts of complications. It might even see their money impounded by some zealous official.

  ‘We must see them settled, Harry, with their fortune safely banked. And it has to be lodged with someone who will take a long-term interest in their welfare. It’s the least we can do.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ said Harry, with an almost weary air.

  ‘I take it we have no intention of hanging about?’ asked James.

  ‘None. We’ll be off as soon as we’ve satisfied them about the Gauchos.’

  ‘And if they don’t agree to accept the Ariadnes?’

  ‘Then we’ll land them somewhere between here and the delta,’ growled Harry. Then he saw the look in James’s eye and added, with a great deal less passion, ‘You’ll have to be at your most persuasive, brother, or we’ll be obliged to take them on to Canada.’

  James was quick to respond. ‘This is not something I will allow you to depute to me, Harry. Though I will agree to stay here and give you my backing.’

  ‘That’s very decent of you,’ he replied, with a sour expression.

  ‘One of the advantages of being a mere passenger, brother.’

  The arrival of the very men they were talking about killed any reply of Harry’s. Pender opened the door to admit Lampin, Couvruer, and two of their compatriots, who’d been detailed to escort them. Harry indicated that they should sit down, an offer which was declined.

  ‘We shall be in New Orleans by early morning.’ That didn’t elicit much response, since they knew already. ‘I also have to tell you that, judging by the way we were obliged to come upriver, landing there is unlikely to be a simple matter of picking up your belongings and leaving the ship as you please.’

  James coughed politely, in a bid to move Harry on, since their visitors could guess that too. They might not have heard what the Spaniard had said, but they’d have to have been dense indeed not to sense the frosty atmosphere.

  ‘There are formalities to observe.’

  ‘Bribes might have to be paid,’ said Lampin.

  His voice was flat, emotionless, and deliberately unfriendly. Harry put this down to the presence of his compatriots, but he was grateful to him, since sensible as Lampin was he’d got right to the nub of the problem. Neither the Frenchmen nor the contents of their chest could go ashore legitimately without clearance, and the two were very likely intertwined. They needed someone who was willing to circumvent any customs controls. That meant using their wealth as a lever with some reliable banker. Finding such a person was a task that only he and James had the experience to undertake. If the chest was inspected aboard, or opened by some petty official on the quayside, all hell could break loose. Sharing the money out merely multiplied the risk of discovery; it would quite rightly be interpreted as an attempt at evasion. But customs men the world over had greasy palms. So a few well-placed coins, delivered without haste to the right people, by someone who knew whom to bribe, would do the trick.

  ‘Besides,’ he concluded, tactlessly, ‘how could you, thirty homeless Frenchmen, justify having in your possession so much wealth?’

  ‘It would help, Monsieur,’ said Couvruer, as Harry paused, ‘if you told us what you intend to suggest.’

  ‘My proposal is simple. It will stay in my cabin, as my property, until we can find a place to lodge it.’

  ‘Non!’ snapped one of the escorts, when this was translated.

  ‘It is not a subject of debate,’ said Harry.

  ‘Why?’ asked Couvruer, his dark eyes steady and penetrating.

  It was James who answered, his voice soothing and calm, in contrast to Harry’s more abrasive delivery.

  ‘My brother and I are accustomed to wealth, to dealing with bankers and money-men. If we ask them to come and see us they will do so readily. And we are in a position to ensure two things: that they are discreet and that they treat you properly in the future.’

  Harry cut in, his voice still a long way from the tone of gentle persuasion he’d suggested to James.

  ‘I doubt any one of you has ever had possession of more than two gold coins. We carry letters of marque signed by King George. As privateers we don’t have to explain the possession of wealth which in your hands would elicit a number of uncomfortable questions, especially since it cannot be said to have been come by honestly.’

  ‘Lacking experience in these matters,’ said James, ‘you may make an unwise choice that could cost you dear.’

  Harry spoke again, his impatience becoming increasingly obvious. ‘When we are satisfied then we will hand back to you what is rightfully yours.’

  ‘We have agreed,’ added James, softly, ‘that we are responsible for your well-being.’

  ‘Some of our men think you intend to rob us,’ said Lampin, quickly. Judging by the looks he was getting two of them were in the cabin. ‘I have tried to persuade them otherwise. This plan of yours will not aid me.’

  ‘Ask them this,’ snapped Harry. ‘If I was going to rob them, why have I come this far? You may also inform them that my brother and I are intending to go to a great deal of trouble on their behalf. If they don’t like it, they will be doing us a great service by insisting that we wash our hands of the whole affair.’

  ‘It is your property and you will have it,’ James said, giving his brother a look of despair. ‘Every sous.’

  ‘I’m sorry if this offends you,’ Harry added, though he signally failed to sound compassionate. ‘You have my personal guarantee that your money is secure, and if that is not enough then I’ve no more to say.’

  ‘Your personal guarantee?’ asked Lampin.

  ‘Yes.’

  One of the two escorts opened his mouth to speak, but Lampin cut him off. ‘Very well, Captain. We shall say no more.’

  He turned so swiftly that Pender had to haul the door open. All four filed out with Harry’s servant mouthing ‘saucy buggers’ under his breath.

  ‘Well, you handled that brilliantly, Harry,’ said James. ‘I’ve never seen such a contented bunch.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  AT DAWN they noticed that one of their escorts had departed; being at the time assaulted by a quite astonishing number of mosquitoes they thought no more of it. Thankfully once out in the middle of the river this nuisance disappeared. Luckily the wind held, but that was soon working against them as, having passed Fort St Mary, they had the task of negotiating Englishman’s Turn, named because a British naval Captain had been forced to retreat years before. After a further five leagues they came in sight of the city. The forest of masts lined the inland shore just at the point where the Mississippi, after a crescent-like bend, ran north to south, with the opposite shore half a mile distant. The foreshore had been built up into an embankment called a levee, first by the river, then by man to protect the area behind from flooding. Downstream there was but a single roadway, which crossed a short watercourse, both soon swallowed up by dense undergrowth, probably the sole land route leading to the plantations they’d already passed. Inland the heavy vegetation stopped abruptly, with a clear field of fire between it and the fortifications that had been built to protect New Or
leans from attack. A long deep ditch surrounded the town, with a palisade of picketed cypress on the inner edge. Five-sided stone towers, bastions as well as gatehouses, stood at each corner right by the water’s edge, the embankment between them providing protection for the riverside. A boat, flying a great Spanish pennant, put off from the shore before Bucephalas had passed the downriver bastion. Close to the main chains it swung round, the man in the bows calling out instructions to their pilot, quite clearly an indication that they should berth upriver.

  Harry had left the wheel to the young Galician and made his way to the mainmast cap, so that he could see over the levee. From that higher elevation his view took in the whole of the original settlement. Behind the customs house and the shoreline factories the city seemed to be one extended building site. Few of the newly constructed houses and warehouses matched the older dwellings in style, being more Spanish than French. Thanks to the Navarro’s pilot, Harry knew that the city had recently suffered from a fire that had destroyed some four-fifths of the homes, workshops and factories, this before the effects of a previous conflagration had been erased. Both fires, it seemed, were a combination of French exuberance and the tinderbox nature of the building material, a mixture of wood, mud, and Spanish moss which caught fire when dry with astonishing rapidity, consuming everything that stood in its way. They came abreast of a large, dusty parade ground, with a group of Negroes dancing to a tuneless fiddle on the levee, an activity which seemed to be accompanied by much drinking. At the rear, to the left of the damaged cathedral church, the first storey of an imposing official-looking structure was nearing completion. Whatever had gone before, they’d learned their lesson, since this was to be entirely constructed of stone.

  Harry glanced at the Frenchmen, who’d also come aloft, deeply curious about what could prove to be their new home. If any had heard the Spanish pilot’s disparaging remarks about their race they didn’t acknowledge it, any more than they now responded to Harry’s crew. He suspected that they’d had enough of Englishmen, seeing their presence as a curse, and longed for nothing more than to be once more masters of their own fate. The Cuban soldiers were being hustled out of the bows by the sailors, who were getting ready to anchor. Harry heard many a curse aimed at them both for their dilatory ways and the filthy state in which they’d left the deck.

  He turned his attention back to the port, assessing its mercantile status. The low tonnage of most of the seagoing ships was a clear indication that they carried most of their cargo to destinations close to the river-mouth, like the West Indies, Mexico and the Spanish Main. Only two, moored just upriver of the western bastion, had the build necessary to withstand an Atlantic crossing. This squared with something Pollock had said about the city only recently coming to life. The Spaniards had denied the Americans navigation rights ever since the state was founded, but in a sudden reversal of policy, a Senator Thomas Pinckney had persuaded the then chief minister to King Carlos, Manuel de Godoy, to allow them 25 years as an experiment. Because of that, trade was on an upward trend.

  He could see no warships, other than the galleys. One, which they’d missed that morning, was berthed opposite the parade ground. The rest, with Navarro to the fore, having overtaken the merchant transports were now in his wake. Passing on, Bucephalas came abreast of the blunt-prowed riverboats, huddled close to each other at the far end of the levee. He was intrigued by the curious shape of these boats, which, with the exception of the odd trading galley, all had a shallow draught, a high freeboard, and a spacious deck cabin, looking like some form of primitive ark. This impression was reinforced by the single stumped mast amidships, which could carry a square sail. More biblical was the great sweep that jutted from the stern, worked by a man standing atop the deck cabin. One, just arrived from upriver, was steering for the shore. Two men stood in the bow with long poles, ready to fend off the craft already berthed, whose crews stood by the stern, their attitude quite clearly aggressive as they dared these newcomers to take so much as an inch of shaving off their woodwork.

  The pilot guided them on to a point by the upriver bastion, some hundred yards short of a sandy beach. Beyond he could see clearly where the city had encroached into the abutting swamp-lands; some fine houses had been built and more were in the process of construction. Huge rafts, almost like floating islands, obviously used to transport freight downriver, had been pulled out of the water. Men scurried around breaking them up, the timber they provided being used on the houses. These mansions seemed to have escaped the ravages of the recent fires, no doubt saved by the firebreak between them and the city walls. All in all, the place had an air of prosperity, the look of a town that was expanding rapidly, just the location for a group of enterprising new immigrants, well provided with funds, to make their mark.

  Harry slid down to the deck as the pilot swung the wheel to bring them round and place them close to the two seagoing vessels he’d spotted earlier. Broad-beamed and of similar construction to the Gauchos, they had half a dozen gunports each – no doubt they carried several small-calibre cannon amidships. Their sides were full of men, curious to take stock of this newcomer, and on the nearest a party of soldiers, in smart white uniforms and armed with muskets, were drilling on the poop, watched by a group of officers.

  The Cubans were gesticulating towards them. Fernandez had raised his stained tricorne hat and was scratching his head. A sudden feeling of unease gripped Harry Ludlow. Neither soldiers nor those officers had any place on what was clearly a merchant ship. Looking back, he saw that the crews of the riverboats on their sterns were assembled as if to watch a show. Even the prisoner in the foredeck cage had stood up to see what was happening. The splash of the sweeps indicated that de Barrameda and his consorts had put on speed, closing the gap between themselves and Bucephalas. Men were already by the guns, running them out to threaten his ship. A sudden rumble had him turning towards the shore, in time to see the great cannon poke out of the embrasures in the stone bastion, and when he turned back towards the two merchant ships, the soldiers had ceased drilling with their muskets, and now lined the side with their weapons aimed at him.

  Harry could see San Lucar de Barrameda plainly across the gap. Standing between his hastily constructed cell and the bows, as finely dressed as before, he was staring at the Bucephalas with an air that could only be described as malignant. The barge that had escorted them to their berth was now alongside, with a younger, less gaudily clad officer preparing to come aboard. Other boats had put off from the shore which he surmised were to be used to remove the Cubans. Some of Harry’s crew looked towards him, as if seeking instructions to turf the sod into the river as soon as his head showed by the rail. He shook his head slowly, even if he was tempted to partake of a futile gesture in order to show how angry he was.

  He was aware also of the presence of the others on deck – the Cubans, who seemed perplexed, and the Frenchmen and his brother, all looking to him to solve this sudden dilemma. The desire to satisfy them, to engage in something more than a mere gesture, had to be resisted. The muskets, given the range, didn’t matter much, nor did the small-calibre guns on the merchant ships, now run out to threaten his larboard side. The Cuban soldiers, even if they showed no offensive spirit, would still need to be subdued, though Harry had no doubt his men could achieve that. Then there was San Lucar de Barrameda sitting downriver, with his guns run out, unlike Harry Ludlow. But that wasn’t ultimately what gave him pause. Even if all these problems could be solved, he was still threatened by the guns of the fortress. With ample time to spare, they’d trained their cannon on the point chosen for him. At such close range, the 42-pound balls of those land-based monsters would rip through one side of the hull and come out the other. Probably, given their elevation, below the waterline.

  ‘Pender, fetch the remains of Captain Rodrigo from below.’

  Once the empty boats were alongside, the officer came aboard, carrying in his hand a small piece of parchment. The Galician pilot was over the side in a flash, c
learly desperate to be off so threatened a deck. Fernandez approached him and fired a sharp question, which was answered with equal speed and a complete lack of respect. The Cuban officer then walked over to Harry and spoke to him in halting French. It was hard to decipher, but Fernandez wished the Captain to know that he had no idea of San Lucar de Barrameda’s intentions. Given the way the Cuban had been treated every time he’d seen them together, Harry believed him. As they started to disembark, Harry indicated the body sewn into its sack. This was picked up and lowered gently into the waiting boat, in sharp contrast to de Barrameda’s captive, Charpentier. He was also going ashore, but with less ceremony or regard than Rodrigo. Indeed, the men of the Navarro took a savage delight in practically throwing him into the wherry that had come out to collect him. For the first time Harry was close enough to make out his features, which were handsome if somewhat bloated. But he held his head high, with an insolent cast to his features designed to irritate his captors.

  Harry’s attention was brought back to his own problems as the young officer stepped forward. The paper in his hand was examined closely, as if the messenger needed to check his facts, before he took off his hat, and bowing, addressed the group by the wheel.

  ‘I am Lieutenant de Chigny. I present the compliments of the Governor of New Orleans, His Excellency Francisco Luis Hector, Barón de Carondelet.’

  His eyes searched for the response that would identify the man to whom the message was addressed. Everyone looked at Harry. Another small bow followed.

  ‘Captain Ludlow, he respectfully requires that you come ashore with me, and that you answer to him for the fate of the Gauchos.’

  Harry replied sharply. ‘If the Governor doesn’t respect the laws of neutrality, Señor, how can I believe you when you offer to respectfully escort me?’