Devil to Pay (37 page)

“But what will happen to me when the plan fails?”

“It won't entirely fail. The soldiers will find proof here that there
has
been a camp, with the embers of the fire still warm and with signal halliards still attached to this tree. And there
will
be a boat making an attempt to land at the creek you indicate. There will be proof enough that you gave the right information.”

“How am I supposed to know all this?”

“From information received. This spot is known to you and you can guide the troops here.”

“And what do you really intend?”

“I expect that some plan will occur to me. I shall certainly avoid being here after sunset!”

After Davila and Alvarez had gone, taking the horse with them as a farewell present, Delancey discussed with O'Keefe the messages he wanted to convey to the
Medusa.
His first object was to request her presence off the harbour mouth that night, his second to tell her about the
Aguila,
his third to ask for a feint landing at the Playa Blanco creek at two in the morning.

“Begin with the word ‘submit,'“ said Delancey, “for Morris is senior to me.” With Hodder posted as lookout on the land side, he began to work on the problems of signalling. With some difficulty these were solved, words having to be spelt out, and finally, an hour and a half after Davila's departure, the two rockets were fired. There was only a moderate breeze and there was at first no sign of reaction from the
Medusa.
It eventually became clear, however, that she was closing the land under all plain sail and would be able to receive signals in another half hour.

“Send up the first hoist now, Mr O'Keefe,” said Delancey “It will help her to see where we are.” He paced impatiently up and down, leaving O'Keefe to watch with his telescope for any response. It seemed hours before the young man was able to call, excitedly, “Signal acknowledged, sir!”

When the signals had been made O'Keefe was told to make his way back to the
Dove
and explain the situation to Sam Carter. “In his place,” Delancey concluded, “I should send a boat to the
Medusa
after dark with you in it to enlarge on his written message.”

Meanwhile, at the Barca de Vela tavern, Alvarez was in conference with Captain Passamonte, a grey-haired and grim-faced veteran, whose first reaction was one of skepticism.

“Why didn't you come to see me before?”

“I have only today received the information.”

“From whom?”

“I promised my informant not to reveal his name.”

“Why did he talk to
you?”

“Because he knew that I would honestly share the reward with him.”

“Why the secrecy?”

“My informant is engaged in other activities which he would not like to have known.”

“In other words, he is a smuggler. Why should I trust him? Why, for that matter, should I trust
you?”

“Me, Captain? I am well known here. Ask anyone! Ask the collector of customs or the harbour master. But why, anyway, should I deceive you?”

“I don't know. I won't act on your information, however, until this signal is seen, this flare or rocket or whatever it is. When that is reported, I shall be more confident.”

Alvarez reflected wryly that he was trusted by neither side. He was consoled, however, by the appearance of the deputy collector of customs who looked into the parlour as if in search of a friend. Alvarez promptly hailed him and asked for his help.

“Will you tell the captain here that I am a merchant well known here and doing good business?”

“That you are, señor! You are doing as well as anyone and better than most. We all know Señor Alvarez, Captain; he is partner with Señor Davila who is highly respected in this town.”

There was some further conversation and Passamonte accepted a glass of wine with a hint of cordiality. The wine itself had no effect on him at all and Alvarez guessed that another gallon of it would have left him with as steady a hand, but his air of distrust was slightly modified. It all but vanished, moreover, when news came of the rockets being seen. It was his lieutenant who brought this intelligence, having evidently run from the breakwater:

“Two rockets fired from the coast to the south of the town, sir; a red and a blue.”

“Thank you, Tomas. Did you see the vessel to which this signal was made? A schooner, for instance?”

“No, sir. There is a ship out there but very distant, impossible to identify.”

“Strange,” commented Passamonte, “I was led to expect a schooner.”

“You forget, Captain,” said Alvarez, “that the rockets were fired from cliffs which rise two hundred feet above this town. Anyone posted there can see much farther than we can.”

From this point Passamonte appeared to be convinced. Taking his lieutenant outside, he issued orders for the night. Of his infantry about half (that is 43) would take up positions after dark round the Playa Blanco creek. Of the remainder, twenty would patrol the outskirts of the town in groups of four and the lieutenant, with 22, would continue to guard the harbour.

“I have been given information,” he explained, “that the two men we are seeking will try to embark at two in the morning from the Playa Blanco creek. That is quite possible for two o'clock marks the turn of the tide, the beginning of the ebb. There will be moonlight then and it is vital to keep our soldiers out of sight. I shall lead that party and see that the men are neither seen nor heard. I shall send the cavalry out after dark with this man Alvarez as guide. They are to surround the camp from which those rockets were fired. The spies we have been sent to arrest should be taken either there or at the Playa Blanco creek. But I still have my doubts about this information we have received. It came too easily.”

“I don't quite understand what you mean, sir.”

“This information was given me. I prefer the information I have had to extract.”

“Indeed, sir?”

“So I have my doubts. The story I have been told may be intended to draw us away from the harbour at the moment when these spies are to embark.”

“But I shall be there, sir.”

“Yes, you will be there. But I don't want you or your men to be seen. I want two sentries on the quayside, ready to give the alarm. You and your men must be hidden but at a point from which you can see the sentries. Can you do that?”

“Easily, sir. I'll use the warehouse that belongs to Alonzo Perez, ten yards up the lane from the quayside. You can almost see it from here.”

“You won't see the sentries from there.”

“No, sir, the men won't. But I'll be in the house at the corner. I can see the sentries from there and when I go to the other window the sergeant can see me.”

“Very well. Go there after nightfall, two or three men at a time, walking as if they are off duty. Be ready to dash in if you see anything suspicious. We would prefer to have these two men alive but it won't matter too much if they are killed. Use the bayonet and don't fire unless you are fired upon. Send your orderly now to fetch Lieutenant de Garay.”

By the evening all arrangements had been made and Captain Passamonte was ready to send the cavalry troop on its way, encouraged by a scout's report of the smoke being seen of a distant campfire. It was after dark before the troop marched but Alvarez, who rode with de Garay, was confident of the route. “We shall have them trapped,” he explained, “between your troopers and the sea.”

While Passamonte deployed his troops Delancey and Hodder lay hidden in a disused cow-house in the southern outskirts of the town. They were occupied in rehearsal. Having ascertained that Hodder had no experience of firearms, Delancey taught him the elements but then explained that he himself would be the marksman and that Hodder's task would be to reload for him. With two guns and four pistols quickly reloaded, Delancey could maintain an almost continuous fire. Hodder could not become a good shot without practice in firing but he had all the manual dexterity which went with a lifetime's experience in the picking of locks. He quickly mastered the sequence of cartridge, wad, ball, wad and ramrod, repeating the actions and improving on the time until even Delancey was satisfied. “If it comes to a fight,” he concluded, “they are going to suffer some losses.” If all went well, however, there was a chance of reaching the
Dove
without a battle. “If Alvarez has told his story convincingly, the dragoons will be surrounding our camp site and the infantry will be watching the Playa Blanco creek. The quayside should be almost unguarded.”

“Let's hope so, Captain. But certainly that infantry officer was not born yesterday.”

“Hence this little rehearsal. Shall we try it once more? I'll take this sequence: musket, pistol, musket, pistol, pistol, musket. You keep one pistol in reserve for your own defence. Right? Go!” The last rehearsal finished, they ate what bread and meat was left and lay down to rest until midnight.

When the town church clock struck twelve Delancey and Hodder began their slow approach to the harbour, planning each move from doorway to yard entry, from one shadow to the next. There was all too much moonlight for their purpose and they were alarmed at one stage by the persistent barking of a dog. Hardly had the dog forgotten them before they found themselves near a small church or chapel from which came, surprisingly, the sound of prayer. The windows were candlelit and Delancey guessed that it must be the eve of some saint's day. He was vague about Catholic ritual but supposed that mass could be said at odd hours on particular occasions. He was grateful, however, at the moment, for a pious activity which might help to explain what he and Hodder were doing in that street.

While still deciding what to do next, Delancey heard in the distance the sound he had been dreading, the marching steps of a patrol. The soldiers were coming in his direction and the church offered the only hiding place. Beckoning Hodder and walking on tiptoe, Delancey opened the church door and slipped inside, Hodder closing the door after him.

The church was very dark apart from the candles on the high altar and there cannot have been more than six people present. He realised, nevertheless, that he and Hodder had to merge with their surroundings before the patrol arrived. There was no knowing whether they would look into the church but it was the sort of thing a conscientious corporal might do. “I'll go over there,” he whispered to Hodder, pointing to a confessional box. “You kneel outside it as if waiting your turn.” A minute later he was ready to make his confession, muttering suitably to a priest who was not there.

But that was where he had made his mistake. A voice through the grille said, “Yes, my son?” and added the words for blessing. Racking his brains for material, Delancey began his first confession, beginning in Spanish and soon lapsing into French, half his attention on the footsteps of the patrol, which had halted at the church door. “I have grievously sinned, Father, by drinking to excess, by illicit traffic in evasion of customs duties, by looking with desire on women, even on those that are married, by—.” The church door had opened quietly and a corporal stood there, looking round the church. Desperate for ideas and realising that the known sins are all too few, Delancey plunged into a story of having cheated at cards and sold a horse for more than its value, having hopes that his mother-in-law would die and failing to give what he had promised to charity. The corporal had gone and the door of the church was closing. By now Delancey was at his wits end but he could hear the patrol marching away. “I told gossip falsely against a neighbour who is sick and whom I said is with child. I spoke in anger to a young boy who had failed in his errand. I have not been to mass for three weeks. . . .”

The confession ended rather abruptly and Delancey did not hear and might not have understood what penance was enjoined. Muttering something which he hoped was appropriate he rose and walked quietly to the door.

A minute later he and Hodder were outside and approaching the town centre. One patrol was now behind them but there might be others. That there would be sentries on the quayside was certain. As they came in sight of the harbour, the town church clock struck one.

Moving very silently, Delancey reached the end of the lane he had been following and looked across the open space which fronted the harbour basin on its landward side. On the other two sides the harbour was flanked by its stone-built quay with warehouses closely adjacent. There were fishing boats in plenty and against the nearer quayside a brig of some size, almost certainly the
Aguila.
It was nearly high tide with the waves lapping gently against the stonework. On the far side with a thrill of recognition he saw the
Dove.
Two sentries paced the pavement opposite where she was tied. No light showed in any building but the moon lit the whole scene with pitiless detail.

From a merely tactical point of view Delancey did not like what he could see. The open space, probably where the market was held, seemed all too open, offering no cover at all. Several boats had been dragged out of the water and lay at the quay's edge but these were isolated and distant from where he was. If he went back and tried to circle left he might with luck come out near the
Aguila
but he would then have the harbour between him and the
Dove.
To circle right would lead him into the very middle of the town and probably into the arms of another patrol. If he could reach the boats on the harbour's edge he could find cover behind them, being halfway towards the
Dove
before he would be seen again. He hesitated, weighing the risks and vaguely disquieted by the apparent absence of the enemy. The approach appeared easy—too easy to be quite convincing. His next move was settled for him by accident. Kneeling in the shadow of a doorway, he felt his shoe clink against something that moved. Looking down he saw that it was an empty bottle. It gave him a moment of inspiration and he turned to Hodder with sudden urgency: