Broadbridge’s face closed up quickly.
‘Mere curiosity, I do assure you, Captain Broadbridge, plus a love of ships.’ But Harry knew he had said the wrong thing. And he was given no opportunity to repair the sudden suspicion he’d created in the older man’s mind. At that moment the door at the rear of the tap-room opened and Bartholomew entered, dressed as he had been the night before.
He paused when he saw them all sitting together, leaving them in no doubt that he considered such a gathering worthy of a second thought. Broadbridge stood up, and hurried towards him. Bartholomew nodded to Harry, with just a ghost of a smile, before turning his attention to Broadbridge. He gave the man approaching him a cold look, and they exchanged no greetings. His voice carried no hint of friendship when he spoke.
‘I think we would be best to transact our business in my rooms.’ With that, he turned and went back through the door.
Broadbridge came back to the table, rubbing his hands together. ‘If you could see your way to that little loan, gentlemen?’
James and Harry had to pool their funds for that. Broadbridge chattered throughout, assuring them what a good friend they’d made in William Broadbridge. Once he had the money, he followed in Bartholomew’s direction, calling loudly to Ma Thomas that he wished to settle his bill.
‘Well,’ said Harry. ‘We’re a hundred guineas lighter for that exchange.’
James, knowing that he was at fault, didn’t reply. He drained the last of his coffee. ‘What now, Harry?’
‘Fetch Pender. Let’s get our things ashore and safely stowed,’ said Harry. ‘After last night I shall demand an escort from Barnes.’
CHAPTER TEN
AND DEMAND is precisely what Harry did, in the man’s cabin, at seven bells in the forenoon watch, and to a Barnes who was incensed by his tone.
‘I would remind you that I command here.’
‘And I would remind you, sir, that I am not someone to take such obvious condescension lightly. I do not take kindly to being left ignored on a ship’s deck waiting for the first available boat, while the entire ship’s crew indulge themselves in drink.’
‘Mr Ludlow,’ spluttered Barnes, half angry, half guilty.
‘In drink, sir!’ shouted Harry, making no attempt to moderate the level of his voice, even though the skylight above his head was open and his words could be heard plainly on the deck. ‘Not to mention all manner of other things. Left hanging about until it was dark, and nearly killed for your want of good manners, and I suspect more than a pinch of pure envy. It would be interesting to see how the ship’s log looks when you muster the hands. Every officer drunk, and the crew going ashore in droves. You put your pleasure before your duty, sir.’
The shot struck home. Barnes must know by now how many sailors he’d lost, and sober, he must have realised that he had little chance of seeing them again before he sailed. He would be called to account for it. It was not in Harry’s nature to do anything to make his situation worse, but Barnes didn’t know that.
The captain spoke with as much dignity as he could muster. ‘You may, with my permission, talk to the premier. If the needs of the ship have been met, you may instruct him to provide you with the cutter.’
The first lieutenant was no more pleased than his temporary master. He immediately set off to check the orders. Looking somewhat crestfallen, he emerged from the cabin to give the necessary instructions. Pender took charge of the line himself, not trusting any of the nauseous crew to lower their clothing, let alone the strongbox, into the boat. From the way they moved, slow and uncoordinated, the chest containing the Ludlow’s funds would have stood a fair chance of being dropped right through the bottom planking.
Barnes had learned his lesson, and the cutter had a half-dozen fully armed marines aboard under the command of a senior midshipman. The ship could afford no more deserters. From the enemy sloop came the glint of a telescope being trained on the Swiftsure. Harry borrowed a spyglass from a midshipman too young to refuse him and trained it on the French ship. The breeze had fallen away in the noonday heat, leaving the new tricolour hanging limp on the pole at the ship’s stern. Whoever was watching them had set up a chair on the poop just in front of the flag, with the telescope on a tripod. Harry could only discern a silhouette, but he suspected it was the same man he’d observed yesterday. Then the silhouette stood up, and the deserted deck suddenly came alive with running figures, hastening to get a boat over the side. It hit the water just as Harry gave the order to shove off, and, once the occupants had piled aboard, set a parallel course across the harbour.
Someone on shore had a glass trained on the Swiftsure as well. As Harry’s cutter fended off from the ship, the decorated barge put off from the Customs Fort, heading straight for them. Doria’s aide was in the rear, lounging in his master’s velvet chair as though it was his own. He hailed the cutter to heave to, and swung his barge in a wide arc to come neatly alongside. Harry, looking back, saw the French boat continue to shore.
‘The admiral’s compliments, Mr Ludlow. He wonders if you might care to join him for some refreshments.’
The invitation was quite clearly an instruction, and Harry nodded to the midshipman to follow the barge back to the fort. The round tower, at the base of the massive mole, had a sea gate. The barge glided under the raised portcullis, into the dimly lit tunnel, and alongside the dark, covered quay, followed closely by the cutter.
‘I doubt you will need these men any more,’ said Doria’s aide, indicating the English sailors and marines. ‘I suggest that they unload your property and return to their ship.’
Harry just nodded again, and he exchanged a glance with Pender. His servant was out of the cutter in a flash, calling for their things to be hauled onto the quay. Harry and James, having carefully thanked the midshipman, followed. They stood, saying nothing, until the gear was unloaded, and the cutter had backed oars and headed out through the sea gate. Some of the men from the admiral’s barge took hold of their sea-chests, carting them through a low door on the quayside. Pender, following, made sure that he had one end of the strongbox.
‘If you will come this way.’
Harry and James, still silent, followed the aide up a short set of steps and through a heavy wooden door, leaving Pender to care for their property. Up another staircase, still stone, though less damp, to emerge into a large hallway with a tiled floor. James stopped for a moment to take a look at the elegant hangings and furnishings which adorned the stark stonework of the fortress. Heraldic banners hung from the ceiling, with intricate, colourful tapestries covering the walls. The aide, without pausing, crossed the hallway and held open the door to a small anteroom, waiting patiently for James to catch up.
‘If you will take a seat, I will inform my admiral that you have accepted his invitation.’ With that he departed, closing the heavy door with a thud.
‘Am I right in thinking we have been abducted, Harry?’ asked James, walking across the small room and peering out through the narrow window. It overlooked the busy quayside, and had once been an embrasure for the firing of crossbows.
‘More or less,’ replied Harry, sitting down in one of the armchairs and stretching out comfortably.
‘You don’t seem in any way alarmed by this. After the events of last night I find that odd.’
‘No, I’m not. First it is happening in daylight. And secondly, if Admiral Doria wanted to abduct us, he would not do it in the middle of the harbour, and take a fair proportion of the Swiftsure’s crew as well.’
James continued to stare out of the window. ‘So we have nothing to fear?’
‘I didn’t say that. But since I don’t know what the threat is, or even if it exists, then I can do nothing about it. I see no point in fretting uselessly.’
James raised his eyebrows. ‘You can say that, after all we’ve been told about this part of the world?’
‘You’re about to remind me how dangerous and unpredictable it is. I am only too well aware of that, just as I
know that I’ve been in many worse places.’
The door opened and the aide, bowing, beckoned for them to follow him. They walked across the hallway, up a wide stone staircase which ran round the outside of the building. He stopped and rapped at a studded door set in the inner wall, opening it without waiting for a response. Up another few steps and they were shown into a large room at the top of the fort. It had a panoramic view of the harbour and the lower parts of the city from any number of narrow windows, plus several brass telescopes mounted on tripods with which Admiral Doria could survey his domain. He was obviously waiting for them, standing with his hands behind his back, and an enigmatic smile on his dark cratered face.
‘Signori,’ he boomed, gesturing expansively, ‘please come in. Can I offer you some refreshments?’ Doria indicated a sideboard covered in fruits, cheeses, and cuts of meat.
Bottles of wine, wrapped in damp cloths to keep them cool, beckoned invitingly. ‘I am just about to dine myself, if you’d care to join me.’
‘Delighted,’ said Harry, walking past him. He made his way round a large oak table to one of the windows, bending down to look through the brass telescope which stood in the opening. It was trained on the Swiftsure.
Doria smiled at James, still by the doorway. The smile was not returned. ‘It must seem like you’ve been placed under restraint. I did send to invite you while you were still aboard the frigate. But of course, by the time these fools had got the barge out you had loaded and put off.’
Harry, standing upright, indicated Doria’s aide, standing silently beside James, waiting for instructions. ‘This fellow didn’t quite manage to make it sound like an invitation.’
Doria frowned, snapped his head in an impatient gesture to indicate that the young man should leave. The smile reappeared as his head disappeared down the steps and the door closed behind him.
‘I fear I must take the blame. My nephew’s terribly afraid of my displeasure. Certainly more than he is fond of proper manners. But it is an invitation. You are here as my guest. And if you do not believe me, feel free to go.’ Doria made a gesture with his hand towards the exit.
‘And leave all this?’ Harry walked towards the sideboard. Doria beamed, first at Harry, then at James, and indicated with a broad sweep of both his arms that they should help themselves.
‘My servant?’ asked Harry.
‘They will see to him, never fear.’
Harry, filling his plate, had an image of Pender trying to eat with one hand, for he was sure that the other would remain round their strongbox. Doria, carrying a burgeoning plate of food, led the way to the huge oak table. Having seated his guests, he poured the wine himself, before sitting down to eat.
The brothers set to with a will. Doria watched them, making small talk and picking at his own plate, though he was more liberal with the wine, quaffing it down in great gulps, and encouraging the Ludlows to do likewise. He talked about the war and its effect on trade. How the increase in activity added to his workload. If he was waiting for his guests to quiz him about their presence at his table, he waited in vain. While polite in their responses, neither volunteered any statement or asked any questions. They merely ate their food, declined as much wine as they consumed, and waited. Doria finally ran out of patience, wiped his mouth with a large napkin, and leaning forwards addressed Harry.
‘I invited you here because I am anxious to assist you. Plus, of course I have my responsibilities. You are aware that there is a heavy tariff to pay for the importation of gold into the Republic?’
‘I was not aware of that,’ said Harry quickly.
‘It is a recent ordinance.’
‘How recent?’ asked James.
‘Since the upheavals of ’89. The French are fond of gold. Naturally, with the trouble in the country, they seek somewhere safe to stow it. Somewhere safe, but not too distant.’
‘Does a tariff not discourage them?’
Doria gave an elaborate shrug. ‘They are not overburdened with choice, Signor. So it is, alas, the case. Besides, gold fetches a high price in this part of the world.’
‘There are places where it fetches more.’
‘Distance, Signor Ludlow, compounds the danger of complete loss. Only citizens of Genoa may import gold without a duty. You are, I believe, carrying a quantity of gold?’
It would be useless to deny it. Harry nodded. ‘It is no great quantity.’ Doria gave Harry the kind of smile that implied that he knew better.
Barnes must have told him everything, and probably exaggerated to boot.
‘You said you wish to assist us,’ said James quietly, looking at the admiral through an upheld crystal glass full of white wine.
Doria looked from one to the other, frowning slightly at the look on Harry’s face. He had the air of a man unsure of whom he should deal with, a man hoping that one or the other of his guests would speak so that he would know. Finally he put both hands on the table and leant back to address them. ‘If I may presume a little, I would like to ask, what are your intentions?’
‘That is still in the balance,’ replied Harry testily.
James followed up swiftly, his words quite as sharp as his brother’s. ‘It may very well turn on the outcome of this conversation.’
The admiral ignored the implications of that remark, and the unsmiling directness with which it was made. ‘I mean for today, Signor Ludlow, not for the future.’
Now all three sat silently, Doria content to let them weigh up the relative merits of providing an answer. Finally Harry spoke, having elicited a nod from his brother. ‘To find a bank and deposit my funds, and if the price of gold is high enough, sell it.’
Doria’s face broke into a smile, and he tapped the ends of his fingers on the table. ‘I thought so. And that is where I can assist you. It so happens that I am fortunate to have connections with certain business interests in the town, people who I know will give you a good deal of interest on your funds.’
‘No doubt they are traders in gold,’ said James coldly.
Doria’s smile spread, and his eyes twinkled. ‘We are a trading nation, Signor, possessing little in the way of land and population. Therefore we must do our best in banking to supplement what we make with our ships. Mind you, I often wonder whether we aid our cause by taxing the importation of gold so heavily.’
James gave him a sardonic look. ‘Only for foreigners.’
‘Just the point I was coming to. For I think I can see a way to avoid such duty, but that would of course mean your taking my advice on where to deposit your funds.’
Again a long silence. But the game had to be played. He would not speak first now. He waited for one of the Ludlow brothers to move things forward.
‘You mentioned some connections you have?’ asked Harry.
‘Yes. With the trading house of Guistiani, who, I might add, also act as my personal bankers.’
Harry looked at James as he continued. ‘As we came ashore, last night, Admiral, we were attacked by a gang of men, whom I presume were intent on robbery. That is, after they’d killed us.’
Doria showed no trace of surprise or embarrassment. He didn’t even blink as Harry stared hard at him. ‘All the more reason to accept my protection. The city teems with thieves.’
Harry reckoned that he was sitting in the presence of one of the peers of the tribe. The man had not even pretended to be surprised at this information. Nor did he enquire about the nature of the attack, where it took place, or ask for any description of those involved.
‘It was wise of you to leave your things aboard ship last night. I remember remarking on it to Captain Barnes.’ He smiled broadly at both of them, amused at their studied lack of movement. Then he threw his head back and laughed out loud.
‘Suspicion is a natural emotion. So I will not pretend to be offended by the drift of your thoughts.’
‘Caused by your complete lack of curiosity, Admiral,’ said James.
‘Ah! I see. I am to throw up my hands and imply th
at I am shocked that such a thing could occur. Ask, perhaps, for a description of your assailants.’ Doria laughed again, before leaning forward again and looking intently at Harry. ‘I see I’m reading your mind, Signor Ludlow.’
Harry returned the stare. ‘Most accurately, Admiral.’
No smile now. Harry and Doria’s eyes were locked together. ‘I think any complaint should be levelled against Captain Barnes. He should never have let you go ashore after dark, in the first place. Quite apart from the presence of thieves and vagabonds in the city, there is a well-armed French sloop in the harbour. The city teems with agents and sympathisers of the French government. You come ashore, quite obviously not common sailors, I assume in darkness, and you are surprised that you are attacked.’
He smiled again, then the smile suddenly disappeared, to be replaced by a grim look that embraced them both. ‘Rest assured, gentlemen, that if I had wanted to rob you, I would have first ensured you were carrying something that made my efforts worthwhile.’ The eyes were hard now, as was the tone of his voice. ‘Then I would have made quite sure that no trace of you was ever found.’
Again his face was lit up by that wolfish smile, which left you doubting if he was serious. Harry wondered what the price would be of telling this man to go to hell. Admiral Stefano Doria belonged to one of the greatest families of the powerful local aristocracy. As Harry had remarked, he bore a famous name. One of his ancestors, Andrea Doria, had been the greatest sailor of his age. If you looked out of the right embrasure you could scarcely miss the Palazzo Doria, with its spacious formal gardens running from the house down to a loggia that abutted the wharves where family-owned ships could tie up. To hold his present rank, and to have the control of the excise in the most rapacious port in the Mediterranean, argued a powerful man. Too powerful to insult.
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