Enemy in Sight! (26 page)

As he followed a swarthy lieutenant towards the poop he noticed more flags being hoisted under the supervision of an English petty officer, and guessed the ships were being ordered to resume course and station. So it was to be another conference.

He heard a chorus of shouts and saw a bosun's chair being swayed out above the gangway. Captain Fitzmaurice of the
Hermes
was not taking any chances it seemed, and preferred the indig- nity of being hoisted inboard like a piece of cargo to the real risk of drowning or being crushed against the ship's hull.

In the stern cabin it was very dark after the sea's blinding reflections, and it took several seconds for him to distinguish Pelham-Martin's massive bulk squeezed into a chair, the legs of which were lashed firmly to two ringbolts to prevent it and its occupant from sliding to the opposite side of the ship. Farquhar was standing by the table, his slim figure relaxed to take the uncomfortable motion, while Mulder, the
Telamon'
s captain, was framed against the stern windows, head cocked as if to listen to his men's efforts on the deck above.

“Ah, Bolitho.” Pelham-Martin nodded curtly. “We will wait for Fitzmaurice before we begin.”

Bolitho had wondered how he would feel when he met him again. Disgust or anger? He was surprised to find he could feel nothing which he could easily recognise. He had expected the commodore to display some sort of pleasure after the destruction of two enemy ships. Quince had hinted that he was to carry more than wounded men in the crippled
Indomitable
to Antigua. A glowing report which would tell the admiral and the whole of England of his victory, and not of the ships which had escaped or the puzzle which was as unsolved as ever.

Instead Pelham-Martin sat in the shadows, quite still, and in complete silence. As his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom Bolitho saw Farquhar's face, strained and tired, his lips set in a thin hard line. Seeing Bolitho's glance he gave a small shrug.

Then Fitzmaurice entered, and before he could apologise for his lateness Pelham-Martin said harshly, “Captain Farquhar has just brought grave news.” He looked at the young captain and added heavily, “You had best repeat it in your own words.”

Farquhar was swaying with fatigue, but his voice was as crisp and as impersonal as ever. “Four nights ago I was patrolling to the nor'-west of Tortuga when gunfire was reported to the east'rd. At first light we sighted two frigates at each other's throats. One Spanish, and the other the
Thetis,
a French of forty guns.” He knew they were hanging on his words, but showed neither emo- tion nor pride. “I soon recognised the Spanish frigate as the one I saw in Caracas, an escort being retained for the annual treasure ship. She was in a poor way, and all but dismasted.” He sighed suddenly, the sound strangely human from such a controlled throat. “I set my people to quarters and engaged the
Thetis
with- out delay. We fought for close on an hour, and although I lost ten killed, we must have slaughtered five times that number.” His tone hardened slightly. “Then the Frenchman broke off the action and I set about trying to rescue the remnants of the other ship.”

Fitzmaurice asked, “You let him escape?”

Farquhar eyed him bleakly. “I thought the Spaniard's intelli- gence more valuable than a prize.” He added, “Or the prize
money!
” He swung round as Bolitho spoke for the first time, as if expecting someone else to question his actions.

Bolitho said, “That was good work.” It was also very fortu- nate for Farquhar that he had found and engaged the enemy, no matter what the end result. For it was obvious he was well clear of his proper station, and no wonder that neither of the search- ing sloops had discovered his whereabouts.

He added slowly, “Did you find out anything worthwhile?”

Farquhar relaxed again. “Only one officer was still alive. He told me that his frigate was escorting the treasure ship,
San Leandro,
which left Caracas six days ago bound for Tenerife. Off Tortuga they were pounced upon by four sail of the line and the frigate
Thetis.
To all accounts the Dons put up quite a fight but stood no chance at all. The
San Leandro
struck her colours and a prize crew went on board. The Spanish frigate was too far dam- aged to prevent it, or even to pursue, and while the squadron sailed off with their prize the
Thetis
hove to to await daylight and award the
coup de grâce.
The rest you know, gentlemen.”

The following silence in the great cabin was oppressive and strained, as each of those present considered this piece of news for himself.

Then Farquhar said simply, “I could not save the Spaniard even when I took her in tow. A wind got up and she rolled under with most of those who survived the battle.”

Mulder crossed the cabin and leaned heavily on the table. “What more did you find from the Spanish
lieutenant?
”

Farquhar shrugged. “My surgeon had to take off his right foot and he is in bad health at present. I think he feels the loss of the
San Leandro
far more than that of his foot. But he did say some- thing more, though I know nothing of the value. Immediately after the treasure ship was seized he saw a flag being hoisted at her main. A yellow flag with a black eagle emblazoned upon it.”

Captain Fitzmaurice who had been staring glumly at the deck jerked upright. “But that was the flag which flew above the town at Las Mercedes! My landing party saw it as they freed the prisoners from the jail.” He stared at Bolitho's grave features. “It is the standard of the governor there!”

Pelham-Martin's small hands lifted slightly from the arms of the chair and then dropped again as if rendered lifeless. He said heavily, “What is the point of all this? Another deception, one more ruse to throw us off the scent. It could mean anything, or nothing.”

Fitzmaurice looked past him, his eyes screwed tight with con- centration. “If Lequiller captured the treasure ship, surely that must do harm to his cause? The Dons will feel less inclined to change sides as they have done in the past.”

Pelham-Martin's voice sounded strangled. “If it
was
Lequiller!”

“There is no doubt of it, sir.” Farquhar watched him without expression. “The Spanish lieutenant saw the leading ship very clearly. A three-decker with a vice-admiral's command flag at the fore.”

The commodore sank further into the chair. “Everything we have tried to do, each phase of our movements has been foreseen by this Lequiller.”

Farquhar looked surprised. “But at least we have now halved his squadron, sir.”

Fitzmaurice interrupted bluntly, “Two escaped at Las Mercedes.”

“If only I had more ships.” Pelham-Martin did not appear to be listening. “Sir Manley Cavendish knew what I was against, yet gave me no more than a pitiful force to deal with it.

Farquhar turned towards Bolitho. “What do
you
think, sir?”

Bolitho did not reply directly. While the others had been speaking and Pelham-Martin had been searching his mind for reasons and excuses, he had been trying to find some link, any small indication which might at least solve what he had always thought of as a puzzle.

He asked, “What do we know of the governor of Las Mercedes?”

Mulder spread his hands vaguely. “Don Jose Perez. It is said he was sent to the Caribbean more as a punishment than reward. He is highborn and of wealthy family, but we are told he out- raged the Court of Spain by misusing the taxes of his lands. Las Mercedes must be as a prison to such a man, and after twenty years I would think . . .”

Bolitho cut him short.
“Twenty years?”
He began to pace the cabin, the others watching him with amazement. “I am beginning to understand! Lequiller served here during the American Revolution and often used Las Mercedes as a temporary base, as well as many other places. He would have known all about Perez's background, might even have shared his confidences and discussed his hopes for the future.” He halted in his stride and looked at each man in turn. “I believe I know what Lequiller intends, and what his orders were when he broke through our blockade!”

Fitzmaurice said, “An attack on the Spanish Main?”

“Far more daring and rewarding than that!” Bolitho walked to the stern windows and stared at his own ship. “Any attack on Spanish territories out here would most certainly inflame opin- ion against him. But should he return to
Spain itself,
imagine the impact it would have!”

Pelham-Martin gasped, “But that is absurd! The Spanish Court would hang this Perez, aristocrat or not!”

“Alone and unaided, perhaps.” Bolitho eyed him coolly. “But backed by Lequiller's squadron, and a ship with more than a king's ransom in her holds, just consider the effect!” He hardened his voice, seeing the uncertainty giving way to panic on the com- modore's round face. “Lequiller has made all the moves. Divide and conquer has been his method, and he has achieved almost everything he has attempted. We were warned that he is dedi- cated and ruthless. The fact that he hanged helpless prisoners of war should have told us just how determined he is to achieve his ends!”

Farquhar nodded firmly. “You are right, by God! What con- fidence the Spanish government might have had in our ability will go at the first sight of Lequiller's squadron. Any anger retained by the Court for this Perez will soon fade when their treasure is safely delivered.”

“The Church will see to that!” Fitzmaurice sat down wearily. “Much of the gold plate will no doubt find its way to
their
cof- fers!” He added less vehemently, “Then all our efforts have been to no purpose? Even now Lequiller's ships may be homeward bound.” He glanced tightly at the commodore's motionless fig- ure. “We can do nothing!”

Bolitho said, “All along I have tried to see things through Lequiller's eyes. His tactics, his complete disregard for everything but his ultimate objective. When I saw those Spanish soldiers in French uniform I should have guessed just how great were his intentions. They must have been training those men for months, maybe longer, and the uniforms were merely to disguise the gov- ernor's real purpose. At worst he could have pleaded that his town and defences had been overrun by the enemy.” He paused before adding, “At best he will have a trained force at his back when he returns to his own country, where no doubt there will be many eager to rise to his standard.”

He saw Fitzmaurice nodding and continued relentlessly, “Just think of the impact this will have on England. Spain is our only foothold in Europe, the one country still strong enough to show arms to the enemy. With a sudden uprising it would all be over in weeks, maybe days, and there would be
nothing
between England and a united Europe. Nothing but a strip of water and a thin line of ships!”

Bolitho looked quickly at Mulder, seeing the anxiety his words had caused. Perhaps for the first time Mulder was thinking as a Dutchman and not as the guardian of St. Kruis. No amount of ocean or distance could ease the pain he must be feeling for his own homeland, now crushed under the enemy's heel. Perhaps even now his country had been forced to declare war on England. It would merely be a formal signature on a treaty, but it would make this ancient ship an enemy and leave him with only one last decision.

Just thinking about it filled Bolitho with unreasoning anger and dismay. All these weary and frustrating weeks while they had sailed and searched for the elusive enemy, Lequiller had been playing the game by his own set of rules. Rules which they had only just begun to learn when it was almost too late. It took a very determined and ruthless admiral to leave half his squadron to face whatever the hunters tried to do, yet he had been pre- pared to lose four ships while he went after the big prize, the laden treasure ship and all that her wealth entailed for his cause. He must have known that even if Pelham-Martin had succeeded in destroying all four vessels his own force would have suffered so severely in battle and under the bombardment of the hidden battery they would be in no fit state to hinder him for some time to come.

He said, “I can see no other possible explanation, sir. Nor can I see any choice for us but to act on the facts at our disposal.”

Pelham-Martin tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and stared at it blankly. “We do not
know,
Bolitho. Yours is just sup- position. Think what it would mean if I ordered the squadron in pursuit to somewhere—the exact location of which is a mystery— when all the time Lequiller is
here,
attacking and raiding, destroying the vital links which were so hard to forge!”

“It would be prudent to consider the alternatives, sir. Our orders were to seek out and to destroy Lequiller's squadron. We have failed.” He watched the words reaching the commodore's confused mind and added, “Now the
San Leandro
is taken, in seas which we were ordered to control and make secure. Even if we desired it, we cannot waste more time in seeking Lequiller's ships. We have only the
Spartan
for patrolling away from the squadron. The sloops are too frail, and easy prey for the enemy.