I started to rack my brains for ways of buying time but it was hard to concentrate as Abrantes continued. “But Senor Flashman if you do not co-operate then your death can be very slow and painful, we have countless ways of extracting the truth, the Inquisition have been perfecting the art for centuries.” My mind started to fill with images of people being burned at the stake, a rack I had once seen in a museum and other instruments to disembowel and castrate victims and as I thought of that I instinctively brought my legs together.
Dear God this was worse than a nightmare. It is easy to read about those stiff upper lip johnnies who spit in the eye of their torturers and dare them to do their worst. But let me tell you when you are face to face with a pitiless bastard with limitless access to torture, then your mouth is too damn dry with fear to find any spit. I would like to tell you that I came out with some off hand retort but right then I was genuinely speechless.
It didn’t matter as Abrantes continued. “Tell me Senor Flashman have you ever seen a garrotte?” I managed to shake my head as I had no idea what he was talking about.
“That is unfortunate as you are sitting on one.” I positively yelped and pulled against my bonds. I did not know what a garrotte was then but I was pretty sure that if Abrantes was keen on it that it was going to be a lot less pleasant than a sponge bath.
“Hanging can be so quick Senor Flashman, if the knot is in the right place and there is a sharp drop then death can be instaneous. A garrotte can kill much slower and give the victim time to make their peace with God as they die. It is a simple device, the rope loop around your neck is tightened by twisting a pole in it behind the post so that your throat is crushed. Or we can simply stop you breathing for a while. My friend here is an expert in inflicting pain, shall we give you a brief demonstration?”
“No, no, I am sure it works fine there is no need to demon…” That was as far as I could gabble while twisting in my bonds and trying to get my chin in the rope loop around my throat to stop it crushing my neck. But it was no good, the grinning oaf that had now been revealed as Abrantes’ torturer moved surprisingly quickly behind me and out of the corner of my eye I saw him move round a bar and the rope tightened around my throat.
I have heard that a brothel in Kensington offers partial strangulation to heighten the sexual experience while another tart flicks at your balls with a feather duster. Well being garrotted did nothing to arouse me. Assuming dear reader that you are not a patron of that particular bordello and consequently have not been strangled, I will describe the sensation. As the rope tightened my neck was pulled against the post forcing my head to look down and then slowly the rope started to crush my neck. The feeling of powerlessness panicked me the most. I thrashed around on the little stool, tried even to get up but couldn’t with my neck in that vice. My hands flailed around behind the post trying to find some of the torturer but he was too canny for that. My breathing became constricted but never completely blocked and I remember hearing the rasping sound of my breath in my head and the creaking noise of the rope and post as I strained against them. I am not sure how long it went on for. I tried to reason with myself that Abrantes would not kill me until he had the information he needed. But maybe I had a delicate neck or maybe the torturer would get carried away, he did not look too sharp. By now the lack of oxygen was starting to take effect and I began to feel light headed and my vision was starting to go. I was just on the point of blacking out when I heard more creaking and the pressure around my neck eased.
I was brought back fully into the land of the living by another dousing of seawater. I wondered how many buckets of the stuff they had as I sat there scared and shivering with cold, or it could have been fear, there was no way to be sure. As I was still staring at the floor the torturer grabbed my hair and pulled my head back so that I was looking at Abrantes.
“So senor Flashman, you were going to tell me where the letters are that you were going to give to the priest” he said looking at me disdainfully as I coughed and spluttered from the choking and the dousing.
Time, I thought, I had to buy time and then it came to me. “I buried them in the sand on the way into town. I had to be sure the meeting was safe before I handed them over. If you take me back there I think I can find the space again.” I had no idea how long I had been unconscious but if it was still night perhaps Archie and the boat crew would still be there. Maybe they could overcome Abrantes and whatever guard he took. Maybe I could escape.
Abrantes dashed my suddenly rising sense of hope. “If that is true, I had a man watching you come into to town. He can recover the packet. Perhaps you are no use to me after all Senor Flashman. What is the name of the agent who was to get the information?” I remembered Wickham saying the agent was the priest’s brother and instinctively I looked across at where the priest lay. He had looked up at this question and was staring at me. I could see now that the black gloves he had seemed to be wearing were in fact blood soaked rags. He had clearly been tortured but evidently had not given away his brother.
“I don’t know” I replied “my mission was just to give the documents to the priest.”
“Really?” said Abrantes. “No back up plan, no other names or contacts? If the priest was not there you were going to just sail home again were you?” Well there was no back up plan which just goes to show what amateurs we were at the spying game back then. While I knew the agent was the priest’s brother I had no idea how to find him. I would probably probably have had to ask around town if the priest had not been there or if the priest was recently dead, hope his brother turned up for the funeral.
Abrantes clearly did not believe me. “Show him the priest’s hands” he said to the torturer and immediately the priest began to whimper and try to edge away. The torturer dragged the priest across the floor and then started pulling away the rags which were crusted with blood to the wounds beneath. The priest screamed and wailed piteously and I looked away but as the first hand was uncovered I glanced back at it, and wished I hadn’t. The finger nails were all missing as was the smallest finger and most of the remaining finger bones had all been broken so that the hand looked like some swollen claw. It was clearly agony for the priest if the hand was moved, as the torturer was doing now for my benefit, with resulting shrieks from the old man.
“Stop it, stop it” I shouted. I looked at that horrible ruined hand and then down at my own fingers and knew with absolute certainty that when the time came I would tell them everything they wanted to know. In fact I would tell them anything at all to avoid that pain, whether true or not.
I looked at Abrantes and he smiled in triumph at me. He knew I would break but could not resist twisting the screw a bit more. As the torturer dragged the priest back to the side of the room he said “do you know that the most powerful tool for an interrogator is anticipation. You see something you fear and then are left to worry about it. In a few hours you are begging to tell your secrets. The good news for you Flashman is that the instruments he uses need to be red hot to cauterise the wounds as they are made – we would not want you bleeding to death before you have told us everything. You look cold Flashman, let us give you some warmth.” Then to the torturer he added “light the brazier and put the instruments in it.” On the other side of the room I saw a metal brazier standing on a stone platform with what looked like charcoal inside of it with some kindling underneath that the torturer now lit and then from the stone below it he picked up what looked like a knife, some flat metal rods and some shears and started inserting them into the sides of the brazier. He looked across and grinned at me. I knew that whatever I said they were going to torture me.
“Now” said Abrantes, “it is late and I need some sleep. We will be back in an hour or two Flashman.” With that Abrantes and the torturer strolled from the room, leaving me still tied to the infernal garrotte with the whimpering priest and a brazier slowly warming instruments that were destined to leave me screaming in agony.
~~~~~~
Chapter
11
I have no idea how long we were left in that cell but it was one of the most desolate periods I have experienced. At one point the old priest called out to me. “Be strong my son, God is with us, he will give you strength.”
Well I felt precious little strength at that point I can tell you. I sat there shivering with cold and fear, watching that damned brazier get hotter. After a while I could sense the heat coming from it and see a heat shimmer above it. While the shivering from the cold might have diminished I still trembled with fear when I thought about those instruments getting hotter in those coals.
Eventually the door opened again and in walked the torturer. With an evil leer at me he walked over to the brazier and pulling a cloth from his pocket to wrap around the handle, he pulled out a knife. He spat on the blade and I heard his spit sizzle in the heat.
“It looks like it ees time to send for the Colonel” he said as he inserted the blade back into the coals. “You will soon be talking Engleeshman” he added as he turned to leave the room. As he went to walk through the door he grunted. I looked up to see why he had hesitated and for a second I did not see it. Eventually as his knees began to sag I saw the small metal triangle poking out of his back – the end of a blade that he was now sliding off from onto the floor. The hand holding the blade wrenched it out of the body and into the doorway stepped Cochrane.
That single moment is why I will forgive every one of his annoying traits a million times over. The relief washed over me like a physical force and if I was not already tied to a chair I would probably have fallen down.
“Hello Flashman, you were taking a bit of a while so we thought we had better come and get you.” Cochrane smiled as he strode in followed by four well armed sailors. One untied me while two others went and helped the priest slowly to his feet. The fourth searched the room and found a trap door in the floor.
“It is very good to see you, my reception here was just about to warm up,” I gestured to the brazier and the corpse, “and this character was hoping to persuade me to lead the singing.”
“Good God” said Cochrane using his handkerchief to remove one of the instruments “are these torture tools?”
“Well if they are nail clippers they are dammed rough ones, they have broken all the fingers and removed all the nails from the priest’s hands – careful with him lads.”
I was now able to stand and just wanted to get out of that room. A dull grey dawn light was visible as I walked outside. In the small walled courtyard that surrounded the tower the bodies of two Spanish soldiers lay by the gate and four more were tied up as prisoners.
“You didn’t capture or kill a Spanish Colonel by any happy chance did you?” I asked as I saw the bodies.
“No” said Cochrane following me outside. “Archie followed you into town and saw your arrest and only counted half a dozen soldiers but there are likely to be more. I brought thirty of the crew in case we had to cut you out. Hello what’s this?”
Through the gate we could see several townspeople, led by a fat man wearing a sash heading towards the courtyard. Cochrane went to meet them and the fat man immediately burst into a babble of fast Spanish and Cochrane looked to me for translation.
“He is the mayor of the town” I explained “and he is asking if we have found their priest and if he is still alive.” Cochrane led the mayor to where the old man now lay, propped against the outside wall of the tower, being tended to by Guthrie, the ship’s surgeon. One of the other visitors went with the mayor who immediately burst into tears when he saw the priest and the blood soaked rags that were being peeled gently back from his hands.”
“Will he be all right?” I asked Guthrie
“Oh aye I dare say he will. His fingers will be a bit crooked but if he gets over the shock of the last few days he should be fine and he looks a strong old bird”
The other visitor introduced himself in English. “I am the local doctor, I will look after the father when you leave. It will probably be best to hide him out of town in case the soldiers come back.” The doctor looked down his nose at the mayor now crouched next the priest and blubbing apologies at him. “The mayor is embarrassed because the townspeople have for days been insisting that he demand the release of our priest from the soldiers. But he was afraid to do so.”
Having met Abrantes my sympathies were with the mayor. Any such demands were likely to result in the mayor getting a red hot manicure too. Remembering my mission I asked “Does the priest have any relatives in the area?” For a second the doctor looked at me strangely as though I was implying that the priest was corrupt with an unofficial wife and children hidden away but then deciding that the question was genuine he replied. “He has a brother who lives in Cadiz. We sent a message to him as soon as the priest was arrested as he has some influence with the military. But he has not yet arrived.” I realised I would have to get the messages to the priest here and now, I could see more townspeople coming to the tower, including two carrying a stretcher.
I crouched down next to the priest, Guthrie and the mayor, who now seemed to getting a grip of himself. “Could you give me a moment alone with the priest, he was a great comfort when we were prisoners together and I would like to thank him.” Guthrie of course knew about my mission and smiled. He stood up and ushered the other bystanders and the mayor a few yards off to give us some privacy.
“Your brother is on his way” I said quietly. “The papers for him are hidden in a gap between the wall and the grotto to the virgin at a cross roads in town. Do you have someone you can trust who can recover them for you?”
“I did not realise that you knew the papers were for my brother” the priest spoke softly. “When you said to the soldier that you did not know, I thought you were telling the truth. Thank you for protecting my brother.” Even at a time like this when his hands must have been an agony, the priest exuded a calm dignity. He added “yes I can recover them. I know the place you mean.”
I felt a need to be honest to this man. We had shared that cell and I did not want to deceive him. “I do not think I could have protected your brother if they had tortured me.”
“I know, I wonder now if I could have been so strong if it were not my own brother I was protecting. But God gives us strength when we seek his help. Perhaps he heard your prayers and sent rescue?” The old man smiled at the thought. “Thank your friends for me. I would give you a blessing but as you are Protestant and my hands are broken it would be painful and futile. But I do wish you and your friends well… as long as you do not prey on innocent Spaniards.”
“Good luck to you and your brother” I replied getting up.
The men with the stretcher and the doctor came forward to start moving the priest out of the courtyard but he insisted on walking out without the stretcher and personally thanking Cochrane for his rescue on the way. Cochrane came over to me afterwards.
“I don’t like priests, too much corruption when you can buy forgiveness for your sins. But that one has got some come courage, I’ll say that. Is your mission here done as I would like to get on our way.”
As I opened my mouth to reply a bugle sounded.
“Ah, that does not sound good” said Cochrane bounding towards the north wall and climbing on some barrels to see over the top. I ran after him and was just in time to see a squadron of around sixty Spanish cavalrymen emerge three hundred yards away from out of the scrub to our north and ride down to the area of firm sand and shingle near the sea. I looked to my right to get my bearings as I had been unconscious when we arrived and had no idea where the tower was. The sea was breaking on a beach two hundred yards to our right and there on the beach was the cutter that had brought the crew of the Speedy and a handful of local fishing boats. The cavalry stopped close to the waves and seemed to be waiting for something.
“They are daring us to make a run for the boat” said Cochrane. “It would be murder. They would be among us with those sabres long before we could get the thing launched.”
�
��Where is the Speedy?” I asked
“Oh she is hiding safe in the next bay hidden behind some cliffs.” Cochrane had got his telescope out now and was studying the cavalry. “They are grandly dressed, I cannot see them getting off their horses to hack at the gate with their sabres. No they won’t attack us here, but then we cannot escape with them there either.”
Someone else climbed up on the barrels with us and I looked around to see Archie smiling at me. “It is good to see you back among the conscious.” To Cochrane he added “What now dear brother?”
“Take a couple of men and thoroughly search this place. See what is in every barrel, what is on top of the tower and what is in that underground room. If we have to defend this place I need to know what resources we can use. Tell me Flashman, the officer out there with the cavalry in the different uniform to the rest, is he the chap who was threatening you?”
Cochrane passed across his telescope and with a slightly trembling hand I focused on the troop of horseman and sure enough Abrantes was there at their head. My nerves were struggling to keep up. Half an hour or so ago I had been tied to a garrotte with only the prospect of pain and torture to look forward to. Then I was rescued and all seemed well, but barely a few minutes later I am back in the soup, trapped by the very same villain as before. I confirmed that it was indeed the Colonel. For background I explained how he had allowed me to kill one of his accomplices because Abrantes had found him an embarrassment.
Flashman and the Seawolf Page 10
