The Scent of Betrayal (13 page)

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 Orleans 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, clearly 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?’

The young officer looked at his note again, his lips moving silently as he rehearsed his words. Then he waved a reassuring hand at the circle of danger that enclosed
Bucephalas
.

‘Please do not take these precautions amiss …’

‘Precautions!’ bellowed Harry, putting as much force into his bluff as he could. ‘Might I remind you, sir, as if you did not already know, that I came to this berth of my own free will. I
required no coercion to make my way upriver, and I require none to make me stay. I have even gone some way to aiding your superior by acting as a troop transport.’

The young officer looked confused, aiming a quick glance towards the
Navarro
. But his head snapped back towards Harry as he continued to berate him.

‘Spain and my sovereign may no longer be allies, sir. But I have as yet received no intelligence that we are at war.’

‘We are not at war, Señor.’

‘Then why the guns?’

De Chigny replied robustly. ‘Surely you appreciate, Señor, that we have lost a valuable cargo.’

‘Not to us, sir,’ said James. ‘My brother did everything in his power to save your ship.’

This seemed to increase the young man’s confusion, and in the absence of an answer to that he waved the note at Harry. ‘I have my orders, Señor.’

‘And if I decline?’ snapped Harry.

That produced an interesting response in the messenger. Hitherto a supplicant, and evidently confused, he pulled himself upright, jammed his hat back on his head, and addressed Harry in a more military fashion.

‘That, Señor, would be unfortunate. The Governor has been good enough to issue an invitation. If you do not accept it, I will be obliged, with the considerable means at my disposal, to insist.’

James replied on Harry’s behalf, his voice even. ‘I think it would be more fitting, sir, given the nature of the service my brother has done Spain, for the Barón de Carondelet to call upon us.’

‘Then, Señor, it is plain that you, along with all the others aboard this ship, misunderstand the nature of the summons.’

‘Ah!’ James replied, waving an elegant hand, like a man who’d just nailed a particularly annoying paradox. ‘It is a summons, not an invitation.’

‘My English does not extend, Señor, to a recognition of the difference.’

‘That, young man, may explain a great deal of your country’s recent decline. Let me enlighten you to the damning accuracy of the English language. Great Britain invited you to partake in a war against the forces of the Revolution. Due to the incompetence of your armies, those same people summoned your King to sign an ignominious peace. The word you would use in such circumstances is surrender.’