Far Foreign (The Duty and Destiny Series, Book 9)

by Andrew Wareham

  "On deck! Second fire, sir."

  Frederick wondered what Dench was up to; he was a bright young man and not always wholly orthodox in his ways.

  They were closing the scene of the action now; five minutes at most before Endymion could take a hand. Frederick waited, certain the dhows would choose to run. He heard orders in the waist, saw his hundred and twenty of soldiers lining up, loading their muskets.

  He turned to the boy captain's servant acting as his runner.

  "Lockyer, to the captain of the soldiers and tell him to bring his men to the forecastle and quarterdeck where they may have a better firing place. He is to fire volleys at his discretion. Repeat that order, sir!"

  The boy showed bright and quick - he had heard and remembered all. He scampered off.

  "Mr McDonald, Mr Dalby! Fire by sections, midshipmen to pick targets under your command. Chasers as targets become available. You may fire at will."

  Broadsides of some thirty-seven guns would be pointless against dhows of less than one hundred tons burthen and frail construction.

  "On deck, sir, Asp is casting stinkpots, or other infernal machines, upon the dhows."

  "Is she now! Mr Wickham, just who is that lookout?"

  "Ah, that would be Mayberry, sir, who was a schoolteacher who came upon hard times and volunteered some four years ago. He has excellent sight, sir, and a discriminating intellect that makes his reports very accurate, even if sometimes wordy."

  Frederick made a note to investigate Mayberry further - surely there was a man who could be brought to the quarterdeck and given a cocked hat.

  The chasers fired, one then the other.

  The dhows seemed to hesitate, awaiting command, then turned away intending to make the best use of their lateen rig to escape the square sails of the navy. The wind from the southwest did not favour them for the first few minutes, did not permit them to make an offing until they had crossed Endymion's wake.

  The guns did their best against small fast targets in poor light; only four of nine remaining dhows escaped and each had taken some damage from grape or ball. Not a brilliant performance, but respectable, Frederick thought.

  "Tack and chase, sir?"

  "Not before dawn, Mr Wickham. They will be familiar with these waters and could well lead us into shoals. We will hunt inshore of the morning. Close Asp, to hailing distance."

  They watched as Asp tacked and positioned herself half a cable from one of the burning dhows, firing a full broadside into her. The pirate sank and Asp pulled away, closing on the other lit target.

  "No quarter for pirates, Mr Wickham. If we were to take any from the water it would only be to hang them from the yardarm without further ado. 'Hostis humani generis', sir - 'enemies of the human race', and they may be hanged without trial if caught in the commission of crime, which includes firing upon the navy."

  Wickham had been to school for a few years before joining as a fifteen years old midshipman; he suspected that the captain's Latin was slightly faulty, not liking his plurals at all, but he was far too old a hand to offer correction.

  "Yes, sir."

  "What is the bill, Mr Dench?"

  "One dead, sir, and six wounded, four of whom I have doubts of. Damned patereroes, sir, firing scrap metal and stones - nasty wounds they make."

  "How did the two come to burn, Mr Dench?"

  "My master's mate, Cookson, sir, was at Cape St Vincent and saw them used there, a bottle of brandy wrapped in tarry cordage, sir. A light set and tossed through the stern cabin windows to cause a small fire and a panic while they boarded. On a little dhow with men packed tight together and wearing cotton robes, sir, they were very effective. Wasteful of good brandy, though!"

  They were pirates and had no claim to mercy or to humane treatment; even so, Frederick could only envisage with distaste the screaming men, their clothing afire and running in panic, spreading the blaze to all they touched.

  "They are murdering dogs, Mr Dench! You did very well, sir! Keep company, sir, and we shall close the shore with the dawn."

  The first lieutenant was at his shoulder, almost tugging at his sleeve.

  "Sir, the burning dhow, sir, is no more than fifty yards off our quarter!"

  "Sink it, Mr Wickham."

  Twenty cannon fired on the command - a number of nervous midshipmen having taken aim while waiting the order. The small ship disintegrated.

  A little later they heard the roar of broadsides from the west, on the coast of Madagascar. There was no discernible answering fire.

  "Long guns and carronades, sir. Winchester, I believe."

  "Sir Iain has discovered a target, gentlemen. Leadsmen to the chains, if you please, and cautiously close his position. How long till dawn, Mason?"

  "Thirteen minutes to first nautical morning twilight, sir."

  "Very precise, sir. We shall proceed under shortened sail until we have a sufficiency of light to discern shoal water. The charts of these seas are very sketchy, I fear me."

  Full light showed that Sir Iain had discovered a small harbour to the south of Sambava, sat on the edge of a fast-flowing river coming out of the wet central hills and deep water as a result. There was a small fort, possibly of Portuguese origin - they had been busy in the whole of the Indian Ocean in their two centuries of power - three warehouses and a massive barracoon, row after row of slave pens and most of them full. The roadstead itself had eight of dhows and three far larger ships, traders of Persian design, showing a deal of Mediterranean influence in their rigging, almost Venetian to look at. Two more large ships, one of them seemingly very English, were tied up at the wharf.

  "That's a country ship, sir. Teak built from an Indian yard and a bloody slaver, sir, that I would take a wager on!"

  "Slaving into India, Mr Wickham? I would have thought there was no shortage of bodies there already."

  "They make soldiers of them, sir. They have no loyalty other than to their owners and the local princes can trust them. If their master dies then they will be slaughtered too - they are neither Muslim nor Hindoo and so have no other place to go. The ship will be owned by one of the local merchants, sir, with John Company perhaps giving a nod and a wink."

  "Well, that may be so, but from all the Admiral at the Cape said to me he is blind to John Company just at the moment. Found in a pirate's den, Mr Wickham. Her officers at least will stand before a court at the Cape, and swing soon thereafter, I doubt not!"

  Winchester fired another broadside, from her long guns only this time. A cloud of dust rose from the ancient walls of the fort. Mason had his telescope in use, made his report.

  "Four old brass guns on platforms below the walls, sir. Too heavy to be mounted high, I would guess. Big guns, sir, very old-fashioned, like the Turks use. Three of them dismounted, sir, and the men running from the fourth. There she goes, sir!"

  Winchester had fired another broadside.

  "Boats taking the big ships, sir. Fighting, sir."

  "General signal to make all sail into the harbour to assist Winchester's boats."

  The smaller vessels of the squadron surged ahead of Endymion, racing each other for boasting rights, the claim of who was first and bloodiest-handed.

  "Winchester to land her soldiers and take the slave pens. Mr Vereker to assist."

  The signals raced to the masthead, the young Dalby very effective in his job.

  "Take us in, Mr Wickham. If we can tie up, well and good. If you judge it wiser, come to anchor instead."

  Wickham was not an enterprising soul, it seemed; he brought Endymion to well out into the mouth of the harbour, dropped anchor with a good six fathoms underneath the keel.

  It took nearly half an hour to get the boats into the water, far too slow for Frederick's liking. Three months from Portsmouth to the Cape had enabled the officers to do much with the crew, but not sufficient yet, it would seem.

  There was a crackling of musketry behind the fort, irritatingly out of view from the ship. The companies of soldiers aboard Endy
mion piled out of their boats and formed up on the quayside before doubling round the side of the old walls. Less than five minutes brought the regular crash of volley fire, three a minute for four minutes, twelve volleys, suggesting a major action, certainly more than simply mopping up fleeing guards and pirates.

  Silence, followed by the sight of a soldier, a runner, trotting towards the quay and the boats. He was brought quickly to Endymion.

  "Beg pardon, sir. Captain Gregory says that there was a formed battalion of native troops, sir, spears and swords, sir, what charged us. They got a barracks up on the hillside, sir, about a quarter of a mile off. The sailors was tidying up and these soldiers came marching down, sir. The sailors fell back, sir, made a line behind us, but they weren't needed, sir. The soldiers came on very well, Captain says, but they got no guns and the volleys knocked them down by the score, sir, until it got too much for them and they legged it. Captain says they went back to the barracks and he don't know how many's there. With permission, sir, he will hold his line until you are ready, sir."

  Frederick nodded his acceptance.

  'Ready' - to do what?

  Withdraw before nightfall made best sense. The slavers were all taken. The dhows could burn and the slaves themselves could be put on the ships to go to the Cape - and what happened to them there would be none of Frederick's concern. Check the three warehouses - they would probably have slave food, if nothing else. Raze the fort, if possible. He could see no shipyard to loot and then destroy, which was a pity, but one could not have everything.

  He gave his orders, set the men to work to lay their hands on everything of value and prize it. It was a Moslem place so there would be very little of alcohol except in the palace or chief’s big house, which made his life easier, though the men would moan. He put Captain Vereker to examine the fort with a party of his own; there was always a chance of a strongroom, and Vereker could be relied upon when it came to money - he would certainly find it.

  Book Nine: The Duty

  and Destiny Series

  Chapter Three

  The slaves were taken from their pens and marched aboard the captured ships. There was a panic when the sailors began to remove their chains. The habit of their captors had been to take the sick and the weak out of their manacles prior to knocking them over the head and leaving their bodies at the side of the track or throwing them into the nearest river, and their first thought was that their new owners intended to kill them all. The absence of interpreters did not help; there were several who spoke the local languages of the East African coast, but only to render them into Arabic and none could offer any English.

  "What are they feeding them, Mr Mason?"

  "Corn mush, sir. Maize boiled down almost into a porridge. Banana fruit as well, and coconuts, I suspect."

  "Order a ration of fruit to be dished out. That should calm them. Question the crew of the country ship – there might be a man who speaks Arabic among them. There almost must be, in fact, I cannot imagine that there would be no means of communication with the sellers on the shore. Offer pardon, service in the navy rather than trial for piracy at Cape Town; they must know that they will hang if they stand before a court after being taken in converse with known pirates.”

  Mason was puzzled – he could see any number of slavers but was unable to identify them as pirates.

  “Be logical, Mr Mason. Four, at least, of piratical dhows which had attacked Asp sloop fled the scene, obviously making to the nearest harbour, they being damaged. The ships taken here were in the company of dhows, some of which are newly arrived in the harbour, or so it would appear. This is the nearest harbour to the scene of the action. Quod, as they say, Erat Demonstrandum!”

  Mr Mason was forced to accept that he had not been trained in his captain’s school of logic, an obvious lacuna in his education. Captains, in the nature of things, were far more likely to be right in all they said than was any newly-promoted master.

  “Of course, sir. I cannot imagine why I did not discover that for myself! I shall pass the word.”

  No fewer than three Arabic speakers were discovered in the Bombay ship’s crew; all, on being applied to, the question being directly asked, admitted freely that the ship and all of its crew had knowingly been in the company of pirates, though against the will of these particular gentlemen who were no more than victims.

  “I was told, sir, when I hired on as supercargo for this first voyage, that we was to be trading on the African coast for the teeth of African elephants and for spices and vanilla and for gold dust, as comes from Africa, as all men know, sir. The captain told me specially that I was to use my gift for languages, hence my extra share in the profits. Only when we tied up in the harbour here, sir, did I discover, to my horror and amaze, that we was to purchase slaves from wicked pirates. On finding this, I made protest to the captain who threatened me with unspeakable torments, sir, was I not to perform my tasks as interpreter. I am ashamed to admit, sir, that I was moved by abject fear to carry out the commissions he demanded of me.”

  Frederick stared disapprovingly at the horrible, cringing figure in front of him. It was male, or so he presumed, but was so bent over in obeisance that he could not be entirely certain; it was definitely going bald.

  “Who are you? What were you before you became supercargo on the trader where we caught you?”

  “Sir, I was a tutor, sir, in private service to any number of gentlemen in Bombay. I have command of English – that being my native tongue – of Arabic, of Hindi in several dialects, and of Persian; I speak less well in French, sir, and have a smattering of Greek, both ancient and demotic, and of Latin.”

  “You are a linguist indeed, sir. Where were you born?”

  He had been raised in Bombay, he said.

  That explained his lack of a formal English education – any man who had been to school or had been tutored in England would be at home in Latin and Greek, probably Hebrew as well if he was gifted in languages.

  “And what is your name, sir?”

  “Mr Archibald Keating, sir.”

  'Mr' said that he was claiming the status of a gentleman, even if a younger son.

  Endymion had no schoolteacher aboard. It was often the case that the chaplain would take the role, and the extra pay that came with it, but the last reverend gentleman had fled the tedium of the blockade some two years before and none had come in his place. There was a full gunroom with the midshipmen and captain’s servants Frederick had recruited, and they would benefit from supervision of their studies.

  “Have you any learning in the mathematics, Mr Keating?”

  “I acted as a tutor in Bombay, sir, and have a command of the logarithm and am quite at home with the sine and cosine and besides have some slight knowledge of Algebra and the Quadratic, sir.”

  “Then I am able to offer you a warrant as schoolmaster aboard Endymion, sir. You are to aid the young gentlemen in their studies of nautical matters and to teach them the basics of elegant English. You will as well serve as my interpreter. You are not forced to accept the life at sea, of course – but the alternative is to join the remainder of your crew at the Cape.”

  Mr Keating was happy to volunteer.

  “Mr Mason, you said you had found three speakers of both Arabic and English?”

  Mason said that he had, but that Keating was most nearly a white man of them all.

  “Is he the best scholar?”

  “Very likely, sir.”

  “I would be obliged if you would despatch the other two to Sir Iain and Captain Vereker, to serve them while we are in these waters.”

  Mason was aware from the captain’s brusque manner that he had caused some slight offence, but could not imagine how. He consoled himself that all captains were the same, touchy often in the most obscure fashion.

  Keating went aboard the country ship and addressed the restless slaves, informing them that they were not to be sent either to India or to the Red Sea. The young boys particularly seemed pleased at the
latter information.

  “The bulk of them, sir, would have been modified, one might say, to render them safe for service in the female households of their masters.”

  Frederick did not understand him.

  “They would have been cut, sir. Gelded.”

  “Oh! Small wonder that they seem delighted to have escaped that fate – though I do not know what is to become of them in the end. Do we know where they come from?”

  Keating was not at all sure but suggested that past experience led him to believe that they would have been harvested somewhere inland on the African continent; they would not be of Madagascan origin.

  “Thus, we cannot return them to their place of birth, Mr Keating?”

  “Impossible, sir. Should we return them to the mainland then they would be enslaved again within the day. I do not know what can be done with them.”

  “Neither do I, Mr Keating. I see no alternative to sending them to the Cape and putting them into the care of the Admiral. He must solve the problem. Perhaps he will find farming land for them.”

  It was a comforting prospect; the slaves might well face an honourable future as free peasants, yeomen, in fact. It was just as likely that they would be sold to the nearest taker, but that was outside of Frederick’s control and knowledge. It belatedly occurred to him that Keating had claimed this to be his first voyage to Madagascar, but that he had just made reference to past experience; little point to questioning him on that discrepancy – he would certainly lie.

  “Rendezvous off the port, Sambava, in one and twenty days, Captain Vereker. In the event that you are delayed then I shall make a southing for two days before returning to the point. If still to miss us, then make to Bombay where we shall join you at some time in the next months. The winds are such that I consider it reasonable to expect even the merchant ships to make one hundred miles in a day, thus I would hope you to make the first rendezvous, but such are never certainties at sea. Your own discretion, of course, in the event of an encounter. Captain Windsor in Mercure will accompany you, sir. Two frigates should be more than sufficient for your requirements.”