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

by Andrew Wareham

  “The soldiers are to remain in the garrison here, Sir Iain, thus to clear our decks of the Governor of Cape Town’s observers! We shall do far better on our own, I believe.”

  “What of this native army aboard the Spanish flotilla, Sir Frederick? Might the soldiers not be useful there?”

  “Not one half as much as your carronades, Sir Iain!”

  “Let us trust so. These small ketches and yawls and whatever local rigs there may be will be expensive of prize crews, I fear.”

  “Very much so – a petty officer to the smallest, and say three men; a warrant to anything a little larger with five or six. The numbers could rapidly mount up… Best perhaps to hold them under your guns and bring them back with us when we end our little cruise. A pair of marines aboard each, sailed by their original crews if they survive and if not by a pair of able seamen, and they should be little of a nuisance. Well, less so, at least.”

  They saw nothing within a day’s sail of Montevideo, the sea simply empty. There were very few villages and only one small town, along the coast, probably because the whole colony was thinly populated and the bulk of the people lived either in the few large towns or in the mining areas, both well inland.

  On their second day northward Warsash, sailing on the very edge of shoal waters, signalled a chase and an hour later ushered a tiny and fearful ketch under Winchester’s bows. The ketch was poor – her square sails on the main showing more patch than original cloth and the fore and aft on her sharply raked mizzen multi-coloured and owing more than a little to grain sacks. She was of maybe thirty tons and was crewed by two men and three boys, the five from a single family in all probability. The little vessel reeked of poverty, but she was clean and well-kept, as far as could be without money to spend on even the most urgent necessities.

  “What is she carrying, Mr Freeman?”

  “Flour in her forward hold, sir; barrels of gunpowder aft.”

  “Has she any papers?”

  “None, Sir Iain. The master – if one can call him such – said that he had simply been ordered to carry the powder, to take it to a small village just a league inland from the river mouth where we found her waiting on the tide; the river is small and even so little a ketch needs a making tide and then will sit on the mud for twelve hours. There is a battery of artillery there, he says, and a small quarry of a hard stone that can be cut and polished with a little of effort to make cannon balls.”

  “Is he expected on a particular day?”

  “No, sir, not that he is aware.”

  “You will take me out to Endymion, Mr Freeman. She should be no more than twenty miles offshore. All sail, sir, I wish to speak with Sir Frederick and be back aboard Winchester before evening quarters!”

  The brig was faster than Winchester – most things that floated could say that – and far less visible; if there were watchers on shore they would see nothing out of the ordinary. Fair Isle repeated the signal to Endymion and that slug turned her bows slowly inshore to reduce the passage time, but it was a tedious three hours and Sir Iain was almost dancing with impatience by the time he acknowledged the first lieutenant’s salute and honours.

  “Sir Frederick, Captain Freeman of Warsash has taken a little ketch, carrying flour in one hold and the better part of ten tons of powder for a battery of artillery in the other.”

  “Ten tons of it?”

  “Far too much for a single battery, sir. They are said to be ‘big guns’, so I presume siege cannon of perhaps eighteen or even twenty-four pounds. Six of the biggest would use a few pounds less than half a hundredweight at each discharge, say forty-five rounds apiece to the ton of powder. Ten tons gives, I calculate, nearly three thousand rounds, sir; that would be sufficient to batter a castle into submission. What it would do to Montevideo I cannot imagine. At most, sir, one of those tons is for the artillery. The rest must be for the muskets of a division of infantry.”

  “I agree. What have you in your mind, Sir Iain?”

  “The ketch to enter the river on the afternoon tide tomorrow, sir. Holds empty apart from a landing party of Marines. Boats behind her, sir, by some little distance to use the cover of darkness.”

  “What time is high tide?”

  “Nearly half after four, sir, landsmen’s time. The village a league inland and only a couple of lads on the sweeps to help the ketch along; at least an hour, they might be able to string it out a little longer. The river passes through flat pasture lands, sir; no woods, no hills and the boats visible at a mile. They will have to hold back until the shooting starts, sir.”

  “All very well, Sir Iain, but what if the division of infantry is in camp behind the village, waiting on its powder?”

  “That could be difficult, sir.”

  “So it could. What would be the aim of this raid, Sir Iain?”

  “Take the guns and split their barrels, sir. The normal thing, overcharge with powder and wedge the barrel full of rocks and a long, long piece of match to the touchhole. Burn their limbers. Make prisoners of any gunners surviving. Burn or take any other military stores, of course, but the guns the primary target.”

  “And the ketch?”

  “Too small to prize, and in poor repair. Put the crew aboard and send her off empty but still in their hands.”

  “I agree. We are not to make war on the poor. Hostilities are none of their business. Give them a good meal or two while they remain your guests, Sir Iain; there is still a place for decency. Who is to provide the men for the boats?”

  “Winchester, sir. I will wish to be present to keep an eye to the men if they are to be let loose on a village in the dark hours.”

  Again, Frederick agreed. The men were not soldiers and were not to behave as outrageously as they so often did.

  “Keep your head down, Sir Iain! I have no wish to go home without you! Have you considered shipping a boat gun on the ketch? A carronade in the bows would be most unexpected and could overawe the gunners if need arose. I am much tempted to accompany you, to get some idea of this land of South America; but, I know, I am too senior for such outings. Give me the full details tomorrow.”

  Sir Iain returned, irritated, soon after dawn.

  “A village, the man called it! It is a penal settlement, sir! There is a quarry and a mine besides and a small furnace to smelt the iron ore that it produces. The workers, perhaps four hundred of them, are a mixture of slaves and convicts, half-starved and scarred by the lash, broken in spirit for knowing that there is no release short of death. Some eighty of guards, armed and possibly called soldiers, but with not an ounce of fight or spirit between them, sir. Their commandant was first to raise his hands!”

  “No fight, Sir Iain?”

  “One sentry who made a challenge and raised his musket shot dead; not a move, not a word from any of the others.”

  “What of the gunners, Sir Iain? Did they have a full battery there?”

  “Four guns, Sir Frederick. Ancient brass pieces cast a century ago, if not longer. Massive fortress guns, the Spanish thirty-six pounder, which is closer to forty of our pounds, I believe, sir. Our surmise was fairly much correct, sir; they were to put a quarter of a ton to each limber and the remainder of the powder was to be loaded onto a dozen two horse carts which they had brought with them and to be taken to Montevideo to be the supply for the army that is to besiege the town, ‘some day soon’.”

  The planning was familiar to them; it smacked of the King’s government, of pious hope and incompetent organisation.

  “You destroyed the guns, I presume, Sir Iain?”

  “I did, sir. Barrels split and limbers burned in a great pyre with the carts. I did not kill the mules and horses, though I know I should have done, but you know what sailors are, sir. They would have come close to mutiny if given that order.”

  Frederick knew that to be true; his men would destroy a French sailor quite casually but would come close to tears if ordered to kill an animal.

  “No help for it. We are not soldiers when all is
said and done. What of the stone shot?”

  “One hundred and eighty polished and true cannon balls, sir, painstakingly worked from the reddish marble of the quarry. The labourers there seemed to enjoy being given a sledge-hammer and told to batter them to smithereens; they had been flogged repeatedly, it seemed, to encourage them to carve the balls perfectly round and exact, and saw a chance of revenge.”

  “Excellent! Did you free them, Sir Iain?”

  “I brought them away, sir. Some will sign on as volunteers, I am quite certain; the rest can be put ashore on our return to Montevideo, sir. The guards presented no problem, sir, due to an error on the part of my premier, sir; he put them all, convicts, slaves and guards into their compound overnight, intending to sort the prisoners into their different categories in the morning. Luckily, the gunners were camped at a distance from the quarry and remained there.”

  “Killed the lot, did they?”

  “Scragged every last one of them, sir! Very thoroughly. Nastily in a few instances. The commandant and his two favourite hands with the whip were cut to pieces – slowly, it would seem.”

  “Unfortunate, but clearly not to be anticipated; your First Lieutenant to be warned to be more careful next time, I think, Sir Iain. No need for any record in the Log; certainly no report to name him. There is small need to jeopardise a man’s career for an error made in all innocence and in a great hurry.”

  “He is a good officer, sir. I would have regretted putting a black mark against his name.”

  “No losses, I presume?”

  “None, sir. The gunners made no attempt to fight, but they had no officer to command them. He had grown bored with waiting, they said, and had gone home for a week or two.”

  “So, an entirely satisfactory excursion, except for the matter of prize money!”

  “None of that at all, sir. A few pigs of iron at the furnace seemed unattractive and there was nothing else of the slightest value other than the guards’ rations which we took aboard for the released convicts.”

  “Very good, Sir Iain. I shall send your report across to Admiral Stirling with my own covering letter attached. A minor excursion and one that should cause no eyebrows to raise. We shall continue along these poverty-stricken shores, as we must. Have you released the ketch?”

  “Not yet, sir. I intend to keep it in company until we are done here. There is little need for the crew to take her back and inform their masters of our presence. There are few enough vessels in these waters and if the word once gets out that will become none.”

  The small craft loaded with muskets and powder simply failed to eventuate; there were none. A week of inshore sailing, slow and tedious, poking their noses into every bay and tiny estuary, brought only a small number of terrified fishermen, hauled aboard while their boats were searched and then sent home again. They sent the ketch away immediately after taking the first fishing boat, the news being out the moment they released the tiny seine-netter.

  They compared charts, chronometers and noon sights rigorously and established the position of the border with Portuguese Brazil with some precision, reversing their track quite exactly to the second, which entertained their masters but achieved very little, for there was none to see and admire their virtuosity – the seas were empty.

  “Make the signal to reform our line, Mr Dalby. I suspect it to be an exercise in futility, but we must sweep these waters again. Our total addition to the prize fund is ten tons of Spanish powder, which is worth very little. Eighteen pence a pound, we may assume.”

  Dalby retired to calculate.

  “I say, sir, I had not realised powder to come in so dear! That is one thousand six hundred and eighty pounds, sir!”

  Dalby then discovered that the eighth shared between lieutenants and senior warrants amounted to two hundred and ten pounds, to be split among a pool of some thirty-two bodies, the squadron working on equal shares.

  “A little more than six pounds, sir. Somewhat less than three weeks’ pay! Perhaps not to make my fortune, sir.”

  Frederick smiled kindly, and said nothing; he would receive the commodore’s eighth, the same as an admiral would take, and on top of that he would share in the captains’ two eighths. Even after the costs of the prize court the powder would be worth two hundred and fifty pounds in his pocket, more than six months of his pay. It was hardly equitable he thought; but it was very comforting in his bank.

  Admiral Stirling welcomed Frederick back, was surprised to hear that the seas were effectively empty.

  “A thirty-ton ketch and a few inshore fishermen and nothing else at all between Montevideo and the Brazilian border. Ten tons of powder the sole capture? Four old siege cannon destroyed and a few prisoners taken. I sent you on a fool’s errand, Sir Frederick!”

  “It is a poor coast, sir. It was wise to examine it, however. Few people and little in the way of money I would say. Settlers who are hard-pressed to make a living.”

  “Much like parts of the Sugar Islands from all I remember, Sir Frederick. A few of rich plantations, or cattle farms as they are here, and the rest of the people desperately poor. If you would be so good, I would like to inform the Army of your findings. They are in expectation of a Spanish horde arriving to besiege them any day.”

  The soldiers were under the temporary command of a Brigadier Morton, holding the city with too few men while he waited for the troops to come from England. Morton was a fat, plethoric gentleman carrying a love of the table for all to see; he was in his forties, red-faced and breathing hard in the ordinary way of things.

  “I am informed that General Whitelocke has the command, gentlemen, and that he is to sail soon, or may in fact already have done so. I assume he will bring a division with him. If the Spanish arrive first then he will find no harbour available to him, for I have but a thin garrison even with the reinforcements from the Cape.”

  The whole adventure seemed misconceived to Frederick; one did not set out to capture the half of a continent with two men and a dog, or so he believed. Better far that they should have brought the local people into alliance, offering them independence under the protection of the British Crown. He was so unwise as to comment to that effect.

  “Impossible, Sir Frederick! Was we to make so impious a bargain then every revolutionary in the whole world would look to us to succour them against their natural and divinely appointed lords! How can we oppose the regicides of France having supported their equivalents in the Rio de la Plata? Mankind is meant to be ruled by its kings and we must never offer comfort to those who dare condemn themselves to the Fiery Pit by attempting to deny that truth.”

  Brigadier Morton, even more red in the face and heatedly indignant, seemed quite convinced of his case; there would be little to be gained from argument. Frederick debated a few seconds on the wisdom of mentioning the tendency towards madness so unfortunately evident in the bulk of European royal houses; the kings of Britain, Denmark, Sweden and Portugal were currently known to be in earnest conversation with trees, birds and occasionally the royal bedposts, while count had been lost of the loony German princelings. Perhaps insanity was a concomitant of proximity to the Lord?

  It might have been amusing, but the morning’s conference was held for the pursuit of business; he would leave the topic.

  “We can comfort ourselves, sir, that the Spanish seem to be enamoured of the concept of mañana, perhaps to a greater extent here than even in Spain itself. Taking their ten tons of powder may well have reinforced that delay. We examined the whole coast thoroughly and inspected the harbour nearest here, given on my charts as Maldonado, in several spellings. The whole littoral is empty, or seemed so; if there were ships and armies, then we could not locate them. Is there an overland route that is practical for an army?”

  It transpired that the plains were sufficiently flat and watered for any small force to progress quite easily, and independently of made roads.

  “Command of the seas is less strategically significant here, it would seem, sir.�
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  “Quite, Sir Frederick. That is why I now propose that you should land the bulk of your long guns and men to bolster the defence of the city. A dozen batteries of your twenty-four and thirty-two pound guns would render Montevideo almost impregnable.”

  Admiral Stirling immediately rejected the proposition.

  “Sir Frederick is not part of this command, sir. He has generously offered his assistance to me in his cruise of our coasts, but his orders now take him elsewhere. He will sail within the week, and he will require his whole squadron with him. It is quite impossible for him to do any more than he already has with his most generous act in detaching Lion and her two small battalions.”

  “You are the senior man, Admiral Stirling. Our need is extreme and I believe that you must override his orders.”

  “I do not have that power, Brigadier Morton. Sir Frederick must and shall sail.”

  “Leaving the Army to its fate, sir. The Navy will sail away and weep great crocodile tears of regret, no doubt!”

  “The Navy will obey its orders, sir. Those orders take Sir Frederick and his squadron south in order to meet a Spanish flotilla said to be on its way from the Great South Sea, and carrying with it, one might add, a large contingent of native troops. Their exact size is unknown, of course, but they are said to be no few.”

  “And just who says so, Admiral Stirling? Sir Frederick himself, I presume! That provides him with a very good reason to be well distant from the scene of combat here!”

  Frederick stiffened; Morton’s words amounted to a thinly veiled accusation of poltroonery. Admiral Stirling tried to bring calm to the discussion; they did not need, he felt, the ill-feeling between the two services that a challenge could bring.

  “I am quite sure that Brigadier Morton expressed himself a little warmly purely under the distress he is caused by the threat to his men. We can appreciate that if the Spanish attack before reinforcements arrive then there will be very high casualties, whatever the end result. I am sure, Brigadier Morton, that you did not intend to impugn Sir Frederick’s honour.”