The Scent of Betrayal (9 page)

‘It’s of a tolerable quality, Harry,’ said James, ‘and not very old. There are no cracks in the surface at all.’

‘That bed has been used and the chest in there contains garments which are rather more grand in style, certainly more Spanish. There were several mantillas like the one in her portrait.’

Harry put the things he was holding back in the chest and took the seamed edge of one of the white, folded sheets, peering at it. ‘The cot was remade with the same linen after the occupant was sick. If you look closely, you will observe that it carries an embroidered message.’

James took the sheet from Harry and carried it to the grubby window, but there was insufficient light to read by.

‘Anything in the other cabins?’ asked James, as he handed the sheet back. Harry folded it untidily and stuck it under his arm before replying.

‘The master, probably. The other was unoccupied.’

‘Just the single officer then, barring a Captain?’

‘That’s all that a merchant vessel requires. They don’t stand watches with the same rigidity as we do, and they shorten sail at night. In a Spanish ship the Captain does very little of the actual sailing. He considers himself too much the gentleman. Such things as navigation and sail plans are left to the master and his mates, who double up as common seamen to save on the wage bill.’

James turned to leave, followed slowly by Harry. ‘What did Dreaver find in the hold that was so interesting?’

‘Come and have a look.’

James examined the brown granules, which had some of the feel of coarse, rough gunpowder. Like Harry he thought the taste and smell reminiscent of sugar. ‘But what it’s called, heaven knows. I thought all the plant discoveries had been made decades ago in this part of the world.’

‘A mystery substance to go with a mystery ship.’

‘Are you in a position to speculate?’ asked James as they made their way back up to the main deck.

‘Only very slightly. They’ve abandoned ship for no discernible reason, so I have to assume another vessel. Having said that, the ship that approached them was known to the Captain at least, since he clearly anticipated no danger. If he laid down his fork to go on deck and greet them I’d be surprised. Those who took him wanted neither the vessel or the cargo it seems, since they have tried to sink her.’

‘Without success.’

Harry, now back on the upper deck, stated that the list had not increased while he been aboard. ‘It’s almost certain that some of the cargo has shifted and blocked any gaps they made in the planking.’

‘How permanent is that?’

‘Without knowing what’s in the lower holds I couldn’t even begin to form an opinion. We just have to hope that it’s stable. But the water could penetrate at any moment. We’ll get some warning if it does, so I don’t consider it dangerous.’

‘You were speculating, I recall.’ James took the sheet from under his brother’s arm and let it fall open.

Harry smiled at his brother’s singlemindedness.

‘Whoever approached the
Gauchos
wanted something and it’s my guess that they had a very clear idea of what it was. It certainly wasn’t that sugarlike substance we’ve just tasted, because that was all over the deck. Yet each cask was open and disturbed. Did they succeed in finding what they wanted? I can’t say with absolute assurance, but the chest that contained the sheet you’re
holding was open but undisturbed, just like the other cabins, including the Captain’s foot-lookers. That indicates the answer is yes. But I do know one thing. Whoever came, in whatever vessel, though not starving, was in need of stores. I would also advance the theory that the ship that came alongside was rather small.’

‘How can you tell?’

‘One thing at a time,’ Harry replied, holding up a hand to count off the points on his fingers. ‘There are the remains of a fully cooked meal on the Captain’s table, practically untouched, with more in the steward’s gallery. Not something a hungry man would turn away from. But every storeroom on the ship has been cleaned out and both the manger and the hen-coop are bare. That blood by the bulwarks forward is where they slaughtered the animals.’

‘Just the animals?’

Harry shrugged. ‘You know the odour of pork as well as I do. It smells like animal blood, but of course I can’t be sure.’

‘And what does that indicate?’

‘That whatever else they sought they decided to take the food. But their ship lacked the space to accommodate live creatures.’

‘Piracy?’

‘Possibly. Certainly theft.’ Harry fingered the edge of the sheet and held it up. ‘And, very likely, with women aboard, an abduction.’

‘Or murder,’ said James. ‘After all, you’re not absolutely sure about the blood.’

‘No. But with no evidence of even a minor struggle …’

James pointed questioningly to the spots of blood on the deck that formed a square on the deck.

‘You haven’t been in a lot of fights, brother. But you’ve done enough in the cockpit to know that a fighting, or even a struggling man, once wounded, sends blood in all directions. And a man and two women, leaving a meal, either in panic or because of force, tend towards creating a mess. There’s not a drop of food on the cabin floor, no sign of wine spilt or chairs tipped over.’

‘A small boat?’

‘Yes.’ Harry nodded slowly. ‘It would be helpful to know how far she drifted, of course. But at a guess I’d say that whoever took over the ship could easily have come this far in an inshore type of vessel.’

‘Which adds up to what?’

He shrugged, then smiled at James. ‘Nothing more than I’ve already said. But the
Gauchos
sailed from New Orleans, and passed Fort Balize, which is our destination. The least we can do is try to take her in with us. Perhaps those in authority there will know more about such matters than we do, and by taking her in we will at least convince them of our peaceful intentions. Certainly, if there are pirates operating, they’d know who they are, and where they berth.’

James thrust forward the sheet, indicating the thin blue embroidery that was not the usual initials. Instead it was a name, or perhaps a word,
Hoboi Hili Miko
, which made no sense. Unfolding it, he saw that the embroidery continued, this time more recognisably.

Harry leant forward to read it. ‘
Vent!
’

‘That’s “wind” in French,’ added James.

‘Which is what we’re whistling for,’ replied Harry, with a grin.

‘You’re sure, of course, that it was another ship?’

‘Don’t tell me that you believe in ghosts, James?’

‘I don’t. But you’ve referred to the gullibility of sailors many times. I might as well tell you now that there is hardly a man in your crew who is not muttering darkly about that very thing. And our Frenchmen have gone very silent indeed.’

Harry grinned and fingered the linen sheet again. ‘Shall I don this and come aboard in the dark?’

‘Not without all the boats over the side, brother. The sight of you in that sheet will cause them to abandon ship.’

‘No one should be exposed to such temptation.’

THE DECISION
to tow the ship only deepened the crew’s curiosity, and that was heightened when they heard Harry order the party he put aboard to take their own rations and touch nothing, either on the deck or below. Lanterns, rigged at the ends of the yards, caused several sailors to speculate on which particular kind of banshee feared the light. Harry, who knew the answer to be much more prosaic, couldn’t bring himself to tell them the true reason, since his men seemed to derive so much pleasure from their superstitions. The dark mutterings increased as they ran a stout cable out of the tier, all the men who handled it fearful, and quite convinced that whatever had seen off the crew of the Spanish ship would have little trouble in walking along the thick rope to seal their fate. Some strong words were required to counter their reluctance.

Once in place it ran from the bitts below decks on
Bucephalas
, out through the aftermost porthole and came aboard the
Gauchos
forward, there to be lashed to the capstan. Towing was never easy, but of all the ships ill designed for the purpose, a caravel, with its old-fashioned design and high forecastle, could be numbered amongst the worst. This was a situation made more troublesome by her condition – she was forever yawing to the side at the slightest pressure of wind or water – so a journey that had taken
Gauchos
little more than one day looked set to take Harry at least two.

He’d gone to bed and was sound asleep before danger threatened. Called from his cot he knew as soon as he reached the deck that
Gauchos
was in trouble. The angle of the lanterns he’d rigged
on the yards told him that, by towing the ship, he’d opened up whatever was stopping the water from coming inboard.
Gauchos
was further down by the head and had definitely increased her starboard list. But what was peculiar was that Pender, with whom he’d left specific instructions to cover such an eventuality, seemed to be still on board. Neither had he signalled to say he was coming off.

‘Dreaver. Man the barge. And put a party ready to cut the cable, just in case the tow sinks suddenly.’

The moon was up, a thin sliver low in the cloudy night sky. Uncovered, it barely illuminated the seascape. But once behind a cloud total darkness descended, leaving the ship a ghostly shape lit only by the faint lanterns still on the yards. It was at such a moment that they approached the side. His calls to the party on board went unanswered, which caused him to wonder and the barge crew to suddenly cease to row.

‘Pender!’ he shouted again.

‘They’ve been got to,’ cried a voice behind him, as the clouds cleared to reveal the silhouette of the bowsprit dipping towards the warm blue water.

‘Belay that nonsense and head for the side,’ barked Harry.

‘Don’t, your honour, or we’ll be taken.’

He tried a more soothing tone of voice. ‘There’s nothing there to be afraid of.’

‘Then where’s Pender?’ said another oarsman.

Harry snapped then. ‘He’s probably below, damn you, carrying out my instructions. Now stop behaving like a bunch of old women and put the barge alongside.’

No one moved. Looking back at them Harry could see the terror in their eyes. To him it was absurd. If the merchantman had been manned by a hundred wild-eyed pirates he could have called upon them to advance and they’d obey. Right now he wasn’t sure. But he knew he had to try, and opened his mouth. Just then an ethereal voice, which seemed to come from the lower decks of the ship, started singing a strange and haunting refrain. This was followed by hideous screaming.

Cries of ‘Oh my God!’ mingled with more blasphemous oaths as the barge crew reacted. Some grabbed their oars and tried to row. Others threw themselves into the bottom of the boat, cowering in terror.

‘Get us outta here, Captain.’

Harry, whose own certainty was shaken, and who’d nearly fallen back as the boat jibbed, couldn’t respond with his normal commanding voice. So when he called them to order he sounded as nervous as the crew, which did nothing for their morale.

‘It’s Old Nick hisself, your honour.’

That set off a bout of wailing in the barge, which only increased the noise coming from the ship.

‘Ho! ho! ho! ho!’ boomed the voice. ‘You’re all for the chop now, you fornicatin’, loose-livin’, pox-ridden buggers. I’ll suck the blood out of you afore this night is out, just like the lot that I saw to this very afternoon.’

‘Pender!’ Harry yelled, this loud enough to carry over the screams of his crew. ‘Belay that this second, or half these idiots will jump overboard.’

Pender stood up, probably quite forgetting that he’d covered himself in a white sheet. The cries of terrified seamen rose in a new crescendo and the barge tilted as some indeed sought the dubious safety of the surrounding sea. Only the loud laughter of the rest of Pender’s party averted what could have been a disaster.

‘Got you there, daft sods.’

Terror turned quickly to anger and the whole night was full of foul-mouthed insults, as those aboard the
Gauchos
jeered at the barge crew, who responded with dire threats. It was quite some time before Harry could make himself heard above the din, and a good deal longer before he could issue any orders that would be obeyed.

‘Cutter’s loaded, your honour,’ replied a breathless Pender to his Captain’s shouted enquiry. ‘Just as you ordered. Had to cut that big painting out of its frame to get it out the cabin door.’

‘Have you looked below?’

‘I have. She’s a goner, I reckon. Water’s up above the forward hatches. I’d say there was a rate of tobacco in the hold to begin with, an’ that’s what kept her up. Now some of it’s near the top of the hatches.’

‘Then cast off the tow, for God’s sake.’

The humour was still in Pender’s voice when he replied, ‘Just as you wish, Capt’n.’

They stood off in their separate boats as the
Gauchos
went down. It was a slow demise, with much groaning and cracking of overburdened wood which ended in a final hiss as the last air was forced out through the open companionways. Then the masts tilted suddenly as the sunken hulk heeled over. They held their buoyancy for a minute, then slid below the water, sinking through a morass of those brown granules mixed with tobacco leaf and cotton. Harry said a silent prayer, part of the burial service that he knew off by heart. He didn’t think anyone had died aboard the
Gauchos
. But it was something he needed to do just to ease his own mind.

Back aboard
Bucephalas
he tried to remonstrate with Pender, but having James in the cabin made that impossible and it wasn’t long before all three were helpless with mirth. It was some time before Harry could check that Pender had brought aboard all the things he requested be saved. He had the ship’s papers and manifests, the chart showing her course, some dried blood scraped off the deck into an oilskin pouch, the beautiful chronometers, and the dinner service from the Captain’s cabin, plus the rolled-up portraits. All these were piled on top of the sea-chests of everyone who’d been aboard and a box of the strange granules. Quietly he examined them, before instructing his servant to stow them somewhere safe.

The sky had cleared and was now a mass of stars, which allowed Harry a chance to establish, within reason, their position. Once he was satisfied that he’d taken a reasonably accurate fix he ordered the men to increase sail then stayed on deck till the first hint of grey touched the eastern horizon. Satisfied that
Bucephalas 
was alone on the vast expanse of the sea he went below. By the time the sun rose above the rim of the earth he was asleep again, snoring gently.

Harry knew he was close to the delta area long before he sighted land. The discoloured water, faint at first, became darker by the hour. This was a clear indication that he was approaching the mighty watercourse that ran from the Gulf of Mexico right into the heartland of the American continent. Some of the mud he was observing had travelled from the headwaters of half a dozen huge rivers, all of which joined with the Mississippi at various stages on its 2,500 mile journey to the ocean. The thought of such a natural wonder clearly affected his imagination, though his evident enthusiasm produced little reaction in James.

‘It only requires a minimal canal network to have a river system that would run all the way from Canada to the Gulf,’ said Harry, seeking to draw his brother’s attention to the map in his hand.

‘And what advantage would that produce?’ asked James, who barely spared a glance. He was occupied with his pad, drawing a copy of the embroidery that they’d found on the linen sheets aboard the
Gauchos
. The portrait case, now containing three pictures instead of one, lay beside the desk, on top of the two chests of clothes that Pender had fetched aboard.

‘Rivers are the best way of shipping trade goods out of the interior. Such a network would open up a vast area of virgin land to development. Don’t you remember what Pollock said?’

James stifled a slight yawn. ‘Indeed I do.’

‘I have the distinct impression that this doesn’t interest you, brother.’

‘What doesn’t interest me?’

Harry waved a hand towards the northern horizon. ‘The American continent. The sheer size of the thing. The vast area of wilderness that lies beyond the Cumberland Gap and the Appalachian mountains. Fort Pitt and Ticonderoga, the Great
Lakes; a land teeming with wild game and Indian tribes.’

‘You are right there, brother. These names which you trip so glibly mean nothing to me. Besides, I prefer teeming civilization.’

‘So the great forests and plains, mountains and rivers hold no fascination for you?’

James laid aside his pad. ‘None whatever. The thought of an endless wilderness, full only of savages and animals, has no attraction at all. At least none to compare with the glories of Italy. Grandeur is all very well. But some of the most tedious paintings I have ever seen are those in which such vistas dominate.’

He picked up the portrait case, undid the catch, and tipped out the three paintings, taking one and holding it up for Harry to see. It was Captain Rodrigo in all his imperial splendour.

‘Let this be part of your artistic education.’

That brought forth a groan from Harry, and another less than pleasant memory of St Croix. His brother’s nautical ineptitude never ceased to amaze him. He could not fathom why the retention of even the most basic fact of wind, weather, or sail seemed to slip in one ear and out of the other. Forgetting James’s tendency to overstate his ignorance, Harry had made a rather waspish remark on the subject. James responded by setting up his easel and inviting Harry to learn to paint. Never one to duck a challenge, and with little to do once the ship had been handed over to the repairers, Harry set to with a will. He’d listened with tremendous concentration as James gave him a lesson in the basics; the divisions of the human frame, preliminary sketching, light and shade, and how to mix and apply paints. It was, by the very nature of the subject and the pupil, a crash course. The resulting display of temper from Harry Ludlow, as James turned the tables on him, had amused the whole crew. And nothing hurt Harry more than the gentle way his brother would say, when he encountered some technical difficulty, ‘But Harry, I explained that to you, in great detail, only yesterday.’

If James heard the groan he ignored it, and aimed his pen at the casement windows and dark blue drapes of what had been the
Gauchos
. ‘The task of a landscape is the same as that of background, to set a dimension to something of more interest.’

He picked up the second portrait, the one they’d found in the case, this time indicating the white mansion and the dark chair in which the subject sat.

‘That house, being white, sets off the darkness of the dress and the deep brown of the furniture. Likewise the source of light playing on the heavy carving helps to concentrate the eye. Do you understand, Harry, on its own, a ship’s wake, the blue sea, the snow-capped mountain or an endless plain is of little appreciable value.’

‘Well, at least it makes the thing interesting,’ said Harry, grabbing the small portrait. ‘Look at this, it’s as dull as ditchwater.’

‘I rather like it.’

‘In God’s name, why?’

James took it from Harry and looked at it closely. ‘It’s by the same artist as the one of Rodrigo. But in this the man executing it cared for his subject.’

‘How can you tell?’

‘The brushwork is similar, and the way he approaches various parts of the anatomy. But instead of throwing his brush around as he did for that foolish painting of the Captain, he’s taken care to try and see into the mind of his subject, rather than provide mere surface arrogance.’

‘And this one?’ asked Harry, picking up a corner to show the mantilla-crowned face.

‘Very different.’

Harry looked closely at two of the pictures, but unable to say what the difference was, or that he preferred the one James termed arrogant, he took the subject back to where it had begun.

‘So America and noble savages do not inspire you?’

‘Noble savages, Harry?’ replied James, with an arch tone. ‘I fear that the estimable Benjamin West, along with John Singleton Copley, have quite exhausted that
oeuvre
.’

‘These things of which I speak are not merely on canvas, brother. They are real.’

James put down the small painting and picked up his pad with a dispirited air. ‘They will be, Harry. Some fool will be seduced by them and seek to record them with the brush.’

Harry opened his mouth, about to deliver a sharp retort, but a sudden tap on the cabin door halted him. Dreaver poked his head round the jamb. ‘Lookout’s spotted a small raft in the water, Capt’n.’

‘A raft,’ Harry said, sharply, giving Dreaver the same look he’d aimed at James. The sailor stuttered the next words.

‘S—says it’s a raft for certain, but there’s s—something odd about it.’

‘I’ll be up on deck shortly.’

‘If we don’t put our helm down, your honour, we’ll have to come about.’