Devil to Pay (35 page)

“I am glad to hear it. As our object now is merely to leave Spain, I felt that I should obtain your views on how to proceed. Both our lives are at hazard and I should not like to think that yours might be lost as the result of a mistake made by me. Our place of embarkation is about ten miles distant and we might well be there tomorrow. Tell me what you think should be done.”

“I thank you kindly, Captain, for your consideration. The first thing, in my opinion, is for you to change into civilian clothes. That French uniform has been useful so far but it is now becoming a danger.”

“I must confess that I hadn't thought of that.”

“Well, sir, it will become conspicuous. Until recently Cadiz must have been full of French officers and some of them would have come here by road to join their ships. You could pass very well as one of them who had arrived too late and I as your servant. Our host here did not even trouble to ask where you had come from or to what ship you belonged. But for a French marine officer to leave here, going southwards . . .
that
must attract more attention. People are bound to ask
why.”

“You are quite right. I was too concerned with Langara to notice any dubious looks directed at me. But you are right. Were I a French officer posted to a man-of-war that had already sailed, I should leave at once for Madrid.”

“That you would, sir.”

“But if I now appear as a civilian that will be still more suspicious.”

“That can't be helped, sir; and the landlord knows too little French to ask questions.”

“True enough. What next?”

“I think we need some muskets. Should it come to a fight, we are too poorly armed with just your sword and a pair of pistols apiece.”

“I agree, but how to carry muskets unnoticed.”

“I've thought of that, Captain. Suppose we sell one of our two horses and use the money to buy a small cart. We can load it with what we need, not forgetting some lanterns to use as a signal to the lugger.”

“A good idea. And then?”

“We need a story to explain what we are doing. We are going fishing, perhaps, and we are wanting to hire a boat.”

“Fishing with
muskets?”

“Maybe we are thief-takers looking for an escaped prisoner.”

“Escaped from where?”

“Well, sir, we need some sort of a story.”

“Indeed we do, Mr Hodder, and I'll tell you what the story is. We are French agents hunting for deserters. The French fleet was here recently but some of their sailors were missing when their ships sailed.”

“Will the innkeeper believe that, sir?”

“I don't see why he shouldn't. The deserters in Cadiz have all been caught by now but we think that some are hidden in the vicinity. We are going to inquire in some of the villages adjacent.”

“He'll think we would be better employed at sea.”

“So we should, but we have to obey orders.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

On the next day Delancey completed these precautions, selling one horse and purchasing a small cart. Muskets proved unobtainable but he managed to buy two sporting guns, with ammunition, not quite as lethal as muskets would have been but more accurate and more easily explained. The purchase of lanterns presented no difficulty and Delancey also acquired some wood laths with which to make a frame to which the lanterns could be hung. To this equipment he added a well-used spyglass, a knife, an axe, a saw, hammer, nails and a ball of spunyarn. Last of all he bought, second-hand, a suit of blue cloth such as might be worn by the master of a small merchantman, not a uniform, but a costume with a nautical air and a hat with it such as might serve a boatswain ashore. He finally told the innkeeper of his deserter-hunting mission and said that he and his servant would return in two days time. He used a fellow guest as an interpreter in telling this story, his own knowledge of Spanish—which had improved of late—being too limited for this purpose although sufficient for asking the way or ordering a meal. The innkeeper was mainly concerned as was natural, with his bill being paid. Reassured on that point, he showed no great interest in Delancey's plans.

Delancey might, in fact, have escaped notice altogether had it not been for the arrival of Pierre Marigny, appointed purser of the
Duguay-Trouin.
Marigny came to stay at the inn on the Tuesday evening, missing his ship by about a week. And whereas the innkeeper found no difficulty in accepting Delancey as a Frenchman, Monsieur Marigny was suspicious from the outset. What was the army captain supposed to be doing? Tracking down deserters? But no captain would ever be detailed to do that, a task for a reliable boatswain's mate! As soon as questions began to be asked, Delancey was in danger. He could pass as a Frenchman among the Spaniards. He could even pass as a Spaniard among the French. In a mixed company of French and Spanish he was obviously an alien, and Hodder, who had to pose as stone-deaf or halfwitted, was still less able to pass muster. Meeting Marigny in the parlour, with the innkeeper present, Delancey had to explain his accent by stating that he had lived for some years in the United States. He then excused himself, saying that he had to make an early start in the morning. He was conscious of being followed by curious glances as he left the room and decided to leave even earlier than he had planned.

Delancey left the inn at daybreak, having paid his bill the night before. Hodder led their remaining horse round to the livery stable from which the cart was to be collected and at which their sporting guns and lanterns were temporarily stored. Delancey's personal documents, those of a French army officer, satisfied the sergeant at the city gate and they were presently on the road to Léon. It was a stormy day, overcast, with a westerly gale and Delancey and Hodder were glad to huddle into their cloaks and pull their hats over their eyes.

“I'm glad to be out of Cadiz,” said Hodder with a sigh of relief. “We might have been arrested any minute. I don't mind admitting, Captain, that I was sleepless last night, expecting a knock on the door. There was a fellow in the courtyard who kept asking me questions. I played dumb as usual but he went on and on. I was glad to escape him when I had the chance but I have an unpleasant feeling that we may be pursued. That sergeant will remember us, too. They'll be after us, sir—mark my words.”

“Thank you for the warning. I think you are right. I also think we are an hour of two ahead of them with time enough to see whether the
Dove
is in the harbour. If she isn't I must ask whether she has been there and whether she is likely to return. That done, we must quit the town on the far side, leave some sort of false trail and then hide somewhere on the coast where we can signal seawards.”

A drive of two hours brought them to the little town of Léon, grouped round a fishing harbour and rising to the church and town hall on higher ground to the eastwards.

The harbour was small but easily entered, with apparently enough water for ships of average draught. It was roughly oblong, the seaward side formed by two breakwaters. A stone-built quayside defined the other three sides, with space for unloading between the water's edge and the warehouses or other buildings. On the inland or eastern side the houses and shops stood farther back, leaving an open space which might serve as fish market or fairground. There were no stalls set up at the moment but there were a number of boats, brought there perhaps for sale or repair. There were one or two adjacent creeks to the north of the town, one of them with white sand and a few small boats drawn out of the water. There was something of a surf running with a strong wind from off the sea and waves breaking on the beach. The better houses were in the area between the church and the harbour, entered from the north by what was probably the high street. Delancey drove his cart in from that direction, drew up boldly outside the principal inn and joined the few inhabitants who had already gathered inside round the fireplace. His order for rum caused some mild consternation, however, and the tapster said that he had none.

“No rum?” Delancey repeated. “In the name of God you can't have drunk all that was landed here from the lugger!” The citizens and seamen exchanged glances and the poor tapster said that he would call his master.

“If we have any, the master will know about it.” There was a semiaudible conference in a back room and then the innkeeper appeared in person and admitted to knowing a few words of French.

“The señor was asking for
rum?
But that, as you must know, is unobtainable in time of war. We have some brandy, however, which I can recommend.” There was a suppressed snigger from one of the sailors and the innkeeper frowned in his direction.

“Strange!” said Delancey. “A friend of mine had rum here only yesterday. It was landed quite recently from a French vessel called the
Dove.
. . .” There was a tense silence, broken eventually by the innkeeper who first looked hastily around to see whether all others present were known to him.

“You are a friend, perhaps, of Señor Davila?” This question was asked in little more than a whisper.

“He is the man I have come here to meet.” The tension almost visibly ended and the innkeeper was obviously relieved.

“For any friend of Señor Davila I am pleased to produce a very special brandy.” There were more smiles as he poured.

“And where is Señor Davila to be found?” asked Delancey.

“At this time of day he will be at the Barco de Vela tavern on the waterfront. He comes here only in the evening. He is a good friend of mine, señor, and well known here.”

“To Señor Davila!” said Delancey, raising his glass. “And is the
Dove
in port?”

“No, señor, not today. She may be here tomorrow or the next day. Who knows?”

“Who knows?” Delancey repeated. “Señor Davila, perhaps. I am his friend but he has enemies too. It would be well not to mention my name to any who should come here asking too many questions.”

“I do not know your name, señor.”

“Then it will be easy for you to deny having seen me.”

“Nothing easier, señor. I am singularly unobservant, as my wife always complains. But it grieves me to hear that Señor Davila should have enemies. All here are his friends.”

“No doubt. But there is jealousy to be met with everywhere.”

“How true, alas.”

Delancey said farewell and rejoined Hodder who had been patiently holding the horse's head. “We must go down to the quayside and visit the Barco de Vela tavern. The
Dove
has been here and is expected again. I want to know
when.”

The cart drove on and made its next stop in the street of the fishmongers. Waves could be seen bursting over the breakwater and Delancey doubted whether the
Dove
would even attempt to enter until the wind abated. There was a heavy shower of rain as he walked over to the Barco de Vela tavern and asked boldly for Señor Davila. A short dark man of prosperous appearance detached himself from the group by the window and Delancey quickly claimed him as an old friend.

“Señor Davila! How good to see you looking so well! The saints have you in their good keeping, I can see.”

Davila looked puzzled for a few seconds and then quickly guessed what part he was supposed to play.

“My dear friend! How good to see you and what a pleasant surprise! Join me by the fire while your cloak dries. A glass of brandy, perhaps?” Davila steered Delancey over to a corner where they could talk in French without being overheard.

“Captain Delancey? What a relief to see you! We had almost given you up for lost.”

“You are working with Sam Carter, señor?”

“We are in business together and I expect him here tomorrow or whenever this gale stops blowing. The
Dove
has been here but had to put to sea again. Señor Carter was inquiring after you at a village just to the north of here. He left Señor Alvarez with me—a very useful man. He and I will look after you. I should add that it is greatly to our interest to see that you reach the
Dove
in safety. What I want to know is this: are you being followed?”

“I think it quite probable.”

“Then you must go to a place I know in the country just south of here. You must go as soon as possible and remain hidden until the
Dove
returns, perhaps tomorrow, perhaps the next day.”

“Very well, but how do I get there?”

“You shall have a guide.”

Davila went quickly to the front door and came back with a young man called Marco.

“This is my groom and he knows the way. I shall come and visit you after dark. Go now, please, and quickly!”

Delancey and Marco hurried back to the cart and Hodder, following Marco's directions, drove out of Léon by a minor road which twisted up the hillside. They were barely in time for Marco, looking back, muttered, “Soldiers!” Delancey glimpsed a troop of cavalry drawn up on the quayside with an officer dismounted outside the Barco de Vela tavern. It looked as if the hunt was up and Delancey guessed that the rear-admiral, for one, might be in an ugly mood after the loss of his baggage. The inhabitants of Léon would be unwilling to betray a smuggler with whom they did business. They would not be as tolerant of an English spy and the place was far too small for Delancey's arrival to have passed unnoticed.

Hodder whipped the horse into a gallop when the road flattened out and an hour later took a lane, as directed, on the right which presently dwindled into a mere cart track. There were no peasants in sight and Delancey sensed that they were approaching a desolate part of the coast. The track ended at a ruined and roofless cottage, beyond which the cliffs fell steeply to a storm-swept tangle of rocks. There was a high wind still which carried with it the sound of the breakers. The hiding place was well chosen but it was not a place from which to embark. When the cart stopped, Marco told Delancey that this was a place of safety, visited by no one. It was unlikely to be safe very much longer but Delancey did not think that he had been seen on the way there, certainly not since quitting the road. A general search of the countryside would disclose his whereabouts in the course of a day but no such operation was to be expected, not at least with the small force so far available. Delancey had seen no more than a single troop, just over twenty dragoons, adequate for making an arrest but quite insufficient for scouring the country. He and Hodder were safe at least for the time being and could make themselves comfortable.