Buccaneer

by Dudley Pope

  He kissed her and then said with mock ferocity: “No, they have mistresses!”

  “They are the successful ones who can afford to dress them in ropes of pearls and gold bracelets!”

  “As soon as I can afford it, I will dress you in ropes of pearls and gold bracelets. And nothing else!”

  She blushed and looked away. “So you have an added incentive to be successful!”

  The chart drawn and coloured by William Wagstaffe, chartmaker, gave very little detail of the coast of the Spanish Main: from Trinidad at the eastern end it showed a few islands lying offshore and belonging to Spain, then came Bonaire, Curaçao and Aruba, claimed by Holland, and then a huge gulf which turned into the Lake of Maracaibo. Saxby had been wise in choosing Carúpano as their first port of call. The islands of Los Testigos were a scattering of rocks and islands, some 800 feet high, forty miles short of the coast. Once the Griffin had passed Los Testigos, she had forty miles to run to reach the mainland, steering for the twin peaks inland of Carúpano.

  Yorke examined the chart once again. Yes, if they managed to sell, say, a quarter of their cargo at Carúpano, then another seventy-five miles westward was Puerto la Cruz, with Barcelona five or ten miles beyond. All far enough from Cumaná, likely as not, to be free of guardas costas.

  There was a knock at the door and Ned looked at Aurelia, who was lying back in her hammock embroidering. She shook her head: she was not expecting anyone.

  The door swung open in answer to Ned’s call and Saxby came in, squinting as he came out of the bright sunshine.

  “They’re the Los Testigos islands all right, sir,” he reported, “and the visibility’s clear enough that we’ll pick up those peaks on the horizon afore it’s dark.”

  “No sails in sight?”

  “Nothing, sir. Our guns are ready to be loaded and run out, but I’m not too sure about our gunners…”

  “Well, we’ve done our best with them – you have and Burton has, rather. I wonder how many ships come up to this coast with their guns manned by sugarcane cutters, coopers, boilerhousemen, carpenters, muledrivers and masons?”

  “For our sakes, let’s hope all of them! Still, they’ve improved with pistols and muskets. A couple of hours a day at drill was worth it. Still, I wish we had more handguns – twenty pistols and twenty-five muskets for a ship, a launch and three canoes…”

  “Don’t put much faith in pistols: accidentally leave these wheel-locks spanned overnight and next morning the mainspring is so strained it won’t spin the wheel fast enough to make the flint give a spark.”

  “Aye,” Saxby agreed, “but if the men don’t start off with them wound, they’ll lose the spanning key, so the wheel won’t make a spark anyway. And matchlocks are no good for this sort of work: the match goes out, or it pours with rain, or spray comes on board…”

  “Which is why they’re better off relying on their cutlasses,” Ned said. “They’ve used them long enough cutting cane that the blade is all of a piece with their arm. And with a cane cutlass, if you miss the first time you can strike again and again. With a pistol you can miss only once.”

  Aurelia looked up from her embroidery. “You sound as if you intend to conquer the Main, not bargain with the Spaniards.”

  Saxby grinned and said: “We’ve nothing to lose by not trusting ’em, ma’am. When you’re supping with the Devil y’know, you take a long spoon. And we’re almost in sight of the supper table at Carúpano.”

  No one paid the Griffin the slightest attention as she sailed into the Bahia Carúpano with the last of the daylight. Saxby anchored her a mile to the eastward of the town.

  Aurelia, who had found the mountains of first Antigua and then Montserrat a welcome change from the flatness of Barbados, was delighted with this stretch of the Main, where long sandy beaches alternated with sharp cliffs, rounded hills beyond and tall mountains in the distance.

  She stood with Ned after the Griffin had anchored and the men furled the mainsail neatly, but careful to leave the gaskets so that they could be thrown off in a hurry if they had to escape.

  She stood close to him and held his arm, and whispered: “You are not going with the canoes, are you?”

  It was a statement or a plea rather than a question.

  “I must, dearest. No one speaks Spanish. I have a few words, and some French. I’ll probably end up with Latin,” he said, hoping to make a joke of it.

  “I speak Spanish,” Aurelia said. “I will come with you. I shall be the translator.”

  “No you won’t!” Ned said firmly. “You will stay on board here with Saxby.”

  “But you need someone to speak Spanish. The whole thing is absurd if you go to bargain and cannot speak to them.”

  “We’ll manage.”

  “All right mon chéri, as you wish.”

  Ned had been expecting a long argument and was thankful that she accepted that going on the preliminary of a smuggling expedition was work for men.

  “If we manage to sell them a quantity of goods and they agree we unload in daylight, then you can come ashore to have a walk and look round.”

  “Thank you, chéri.”

  “But you’ll have to dress in men’s clothes and wear a big hat.”

  “I’ll grow a moustache, too,” she said teasingly. “No, I will stay on board like the dutiful housekeeper.”

  Lights were appearing among the houses which formed the small town of Carúpano, far enough away to seem like fireflies. The wind had dropped with the sun and at this low latitude, only ten degrees north of the Equator, the darkness came suddenly.

  Aurelia stood back as she saw Saxby coming up to Ned.

  “Lanterns, sir: use them ordinary, or keep them hidden?”

  “Ordinary – the Dons have no idea who we are: we might be a ship from Spain for all they know, though I imagine they assume we’re Dutchmen.”

  Saxby said: “I’ll get the first of the canoes hoisted out, then?”

  Yorke waited a few moments. This first visit to a Spanish port was not how they had imagined it. They had sailed into an open bay at dusk and anchored as though their visit was usual. He and Saxby had originally thought of them creeping in like thieves in the night. No doubt as they worked their way westward, near the bigger ports, it would come to that, but here in Carúpano – what would make the best first impression, the Griffin’s regular boat or a canoe?

  “I’ll go in with the boat to meet the mayor, or whoever it is, and we’ll have one canoe lying out a hundred yards or so with the pistols and muskets in case of trouble.”

  “Very well, sir: the boats’ crews, then. Who will command the canoe?”

  “What about John Burton?”

  “I was going to suggest him, sir,” Saxby said. “He’s done wonders training our men – and the lady,” he added, nodding towards Aurelia, “–with the small arms. He’s about our best seaman, and he’ll understand what he’s supposed to be doing.”

  “So Burton it is. And a dozen men?”

  “Five paddles a side means ten men, and if you need help from pistols and muskets, I’d like to see another ten men…”

  “Twenty! We’ll have hardly anyone left in the Griffin!”

  “We need only a dozen or so – after all, we have Mrs Judd and Mrs Bullock!”

  Ned laughed and said: “Very well, let Burton pick his men. He knows them all by now and he’ll know who are the best shots with the coolest heads.”

  “Yes, sir, and I’ll choose your crew myself. Six oars, bowman, boatkeeper if you need one. Eight should do it.”

  When Yorke nodded, Saxby said carefully: “I’d suggest that you go in without a light. Or, rather, you use a lantern with a screen across the front. It might be a good idea to arrive suddenly out of the darkness at the jetty and ask for the mayor. If they watch a boat and lant
ern coming in, you might find a crowd of rascals and vagabonds waiting for you.”

  “You’re right. But have Burton and the canoe waiting as far away as possible, where he can hear me shout, but so no one on the jetty knows he’s there. Tell him to watch out for local people fishing in small boats.”

  Yorke had a brief conversation with Burton while his oarsmen were climbing over the rope ladder and down into the boat. Burton was quite confident; he had chosen his men with care and had all the pistols loaded and in a skip which he was going to keep beside him. He would only wind up the wheel-lock mechanisms at the last moment.

  “Five of us have spanning keys,” he told Yorke, “just in case something happens to me, and of course the musketeers each have their own key.”

  “But the musket mechanisms are protected against spray or some clumsy work with a paddle?”

  “Yes, sir: Mrs Judd and her women have made some cloth covers to go over the breeches.”

  “And Mr Saxby has given you your instructions?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s such a dark night that only people to seaward of us would see the canoe, just a dark patch against the lights of the town. I can’t see fishermen noticing us, but even if they did they won’t leave their lines!”

  “And when we return, we’ll hold up the lantern.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  Yorke went to the bulwarks, where Saxby assured him the boat was ready. He was disappointed that Aurelia was not there, but she might be superstitious about brief farewells, or embarrassed at kissing him in front of the men.

  He scrambled down the ladder, stepped cautiously across the thwarts, careful not to tread on the oarsmen’s feet, and took the tiller.

  “Cast off aft…cast off forward…”

  The six oarsmen rowed steadily and Yorke reflected that considering that they had been plantation workers until a few weeks ago, they had made the change to being seamen with gratifying ease.

  There were few lights at the eastern end of the town, and like most of the others dim, as though they were rush candles showing through open windows. It was a hot night, becoming sultry, so few people would have the shutters closed. The cluster of lights indicated the centre of the town and then became fewer to the west. The town plaza, church and alcaldia would be there, and it was unlikely that the mayor, the alcalde, lived far from the town hall.

  Now the lights were showing up the buildings and Yorke was surprised to find they were nearer in than he thought. The jetty, which he had seen in the last of the light, was simply a stone-faced structure running parallel with the shore. With a north wind the seas would smash any vessel alongside it. Still, tonight the highest wave must be a foot or less.

  The oars creaked in the rowlocks and Yorke turned to look aft. There was no sign of the canoe. The Bridewell had been painted black and by now Burton’s men would be paddling well to seaward of him. Suddenly he realized he could not see the outline of the Griffin and for a moment almost froze with a sudden loneliness. Would he be able to find her again? Then he recalled that waving the lantern in her direction would bring a response from Saxby.

  He was beginning to realize the vast difference between a plantation owner who also owned a small ship capable of an occasional voyage to another island, and, in an emergency, a voyage to England, and a buccaneer. He found himself using the word in preference to “pirate”: if there had been a Royalist governor on one of the islands, he would have been able to get a commission, so that the Griffin became a legal privateer.

  A sudden curse in Spanish, a black shape passing down the starboard side, and he realized he had missed by a few feet a rowing boat with a pair of Spanish fishermen sitting in it, tending their rods and lines.

  “Bowman! Keep a sharper lookout!”

  The bowman made neither excuse nor reply and Yorke guessed the fellow was as startled by the encounter as the fishermen.

  Equally suddenly the jetty was almost alongside and three feet above them, with four more fishermen on top scrambling and cursing as they hauled their fishing lines clear of the boat.

  The men on the larboard side just had time to lift their oars out of the way before the boat was alongside and he was thankful to see the bowman jumping on top of the jetty with a rope, followed by the boatkeeper, who leapt up from his seat just forward of Yorke. There was no doubt a series of correct orders to give at moments like these but Yorke contented himself with the knowledge that even if he gave them the boatmen would not understand them.

  There were stone bollards along the top of the jetty and the bowman and the boatkeeper secured the painter and sternfast to them while Yorke scrambled up followed by the oarsmen.

  By now the four fishermen, calmed down after their shouts of “Caramba”, had walked up to watch, muttering to themselves and, Yorke suspected, realizing that the visitors were smugglers. Certainly they showed no fear.

  Yorke walked over to them and asked a question which almost exhausted his entire Spanish vocabulary: “Donde alcalde?”

  The four shadowy figures seemed to go into a conference with each other, repeating Yorke’s words (precisely it seemed to him) but without comprehension. They appeared to try different emphases, as though tasting them. “Donde alcade? Donde alcalde?…”

  Suddenly Aurelia said in what Yorke guessed must be perfect Spanish: “Will you please take us to the mayor?”

  The men, as surprised as Yorke, exclaimed: “Una doña!” and then, their natural politeness overcoming their surprise, bowed to her and said: “Yes, señora, please come with us!”

  In the darkness they could not distinguish Aurelia: she stood among the oarsmen and Yorke knew she would be wearing breeches. The boatkeeper passed up the shaded lantern but Yorke decided that its light would only emphasize the weakness of his force, so he told them to keep it ready in the boat.

  Already the fishermen were striding along the jetty, followed by the oarsmen, and Yorke had to hurry to catch up.

  How had Aurelia joined the boat? She must have taken the bowman’s place. No wonder they had nearly rammed that rowing boat and the jetty. As he strode along, he stumbled now and again because the surface of the jetty was uneven, and they had been at sea long enough that for a few hours walking on shore gave them the impression of climbing up a gentle hill that moved slightly. He thought of ordering her back into the boat – but would she be any safer there, with the bowman and the boatkeeper? He cursed as he realized there was only the boatkeeper: Aurelia had been the bowman, so only one person now guarded the boat instead of two. Or should he keep her with him, where he could watch her and where at least the six oarsmen could help protect her?

  He had an uneasy feeling that her command of Spanish was their best weapon, and she would insist on coming on shore at each of the many towns and villages they had yet to visit.

  The group ahead of him swung into what was obviously the town plaza. There was a small and shadowy building forming the landward side, and a large church opposite which had a door open and through which he could see some votive candles burning. There were houses on the other two sides and the fishermen were heading towards the centre house on the west side, one with a lantern on a hook beside the door.

  Before Yorke could stop them, the fishermen were hammering at the door, shouting cheerfully a word which he could distinguish very clearly and understand at once. “Contrabandistas, señor! Contrabandistas!”

  But it was immediately obvious that the fishermen were not raising an alarm; they were (too loudly for Yorke’s liking) simply announcing visitors, and if the tone of their voices and general manner were any guide, not unwelcome ones either.

  The door flung open and a stream of Spanish came from a small, paunchy man lit from behind by a candelabra in the room and from the front by the lantern hooked on the door frame.

  Aurelia, broad-brimmed hat pulled well down over her fa
ce, stepped forward and spoke quickly. The man – Yorke guessed he must be the mayor – stood dumbfounded, his hands held out as if in supplication. Aurelia seemed to wait for him to answer and when he said nothing started speaking again.

  By now the mayor was recovering from his surprise: his hands dropped to his sides, and almost immediately the right hand rose to tidy his hair and then both gave his moustache a twirl. As soon as Aurelia stopped speaking, he gave a deep bow, waved away the fishermen, and gestured for her to come into the house. She looked over her shoulder and Ned stepped forward.

  She took his hand and pulled him through the door so that by the time the mayor was back inside the room she was ready to introduce Yorke.

  The mayor assumed Yorke spoke Spanish and launched into a speech which, from the number of times the hands gestured towards Aurelia, was in her praise. Once he had stopped, she said: “He welcomes us. He is surprised to meet a lady in such circumstances. I am of great beauty, he says, which shows what good eyesight he has since my face is almost completely hidden by this hat.”

  “It’s the breeches,” Ned said facetiously. “Spanish mayors delight in them – on women smugglers!”

  Aurelia stood to attention as though she was an obedient member of the crew. “What do you want me to tell him about our business?”

  “Tell him we have for sale sugar, an assortment of pots and pans, cutlery, farming implements. If he wants details, you know the items.”

  She launched into a long description, pausing every now and again as the mayor asked a question. Finally the man made a brief comment.

  “He is interested in all the items, particularly those for the kitchen. They are very short of them here. He says the wives have been complaining.”

  “When was the last ship here?”

  “Nearly a year ago: he mentioned it arrived on his wife’s saint’s day.”

  “Ask him when they want to come and inspect the goods. Not more than twenty of them on board at a time and we will collect them with our boats.”