Flashman and the Emperor

by Robert Brightwell

  “Can I introduce you to the senior command of the Brazilian navy,” announced a beaming Cochrane. “You are both in it too, of course.”

  Crosbie and I gazed at each other, dumbstruck. He had said ‘Brazilian’ and it was plainly not a mistake, but we all knew too well that Brazil was thousands of miles away, at least by sea. “But how?” I gasped at last. “And what do you mean I am in the navy too? I am a civilian.”

  “It’s simple,” declared Cochrane smugly. “Seeing that our work in Chile is complete, the Brazilian government has offered me command of its navy and will match the pay and rank of all the officers and men that I bring with me. One of my last acts before I resigned my command of the Chilean fleet was to make you a lieutenant in the Chilean navy and so you will get the same rank and pay in Brazil.”

  “But I don’t know the first thing about sailing a ship,” I protested.

  “Don’t worry,” soothed Cochrane, “I know you came here partly to make some cash and I feel I have let you down there. This way you will get paid. I am not going to give you the command of a ship, but there will be marines that need training and your experience as a soldier will be invaluable. We are going to make a fortune in prize money, Flashman; you will be casting fountains on that country estate of yours in solid gold!”

  Captain Cobbet interrupted excitedly. “The Brazilian government has passed a new law stating that any Portuguese ships taken belong to the crew of the capturing ship. There’s a huge merchant fleet still plying trade between Brazil and Portugal full of precious hardwoods, spices, colouring dyes, cotton, tobacco and even gold and silver. It’s all there for the taking.”

  “And there is already a powerful Brazilian navy for us to use,” added Lieutenant Grenfell. “They have a seventy-four-gun flagship, frigates and a fleet of other craft, while the Portuguese ships in the area are weak and disorganised.”

  “It will be like the Speedy, but on a much greater scale,” agreed Cochrane, referring to the tiny ship we had sailed in together many years before. He had captured over fifty ships in that vessel. With a fleet including a seventy-four-gun ship to command, the possibilities were endless.

  “Good God,” I breathed as I began to see the potential. For what they were talking about here was legalised piracy. Looking around the table there had probably not been a better gathering of more skilful and experienced pirate captains since the days of Blackbeard. Cochrane was a master when it came to taking ships and evading pursuing navies. He knew every trick in the book – he had invented a good few of them himself. I remembered standing with him in Algiers and hearing the exclamations of admiration from the formidable Barbary pirates in the Mediterranean. For once it seemed that I was in the right place at the right time – which just goes to show that old fools do not learn from experience.

  How many times in my colourful career have I been enticed by just such circumstances, only to find myself facing catastrophe or fleeing in terror from the most fearsome villains. In my defence, on this occasion my thoughts were distracted slightly when I grasped that we would be based in Rio. My imagination was filled with an idyllic image of the delights of the enchanting Aphrodite at Madame Sousa’s. With her pouches of aphrodisiac herbs to sustain my nights, I would need the odd piratical voyage to allow me to recover my strength as well as refill my purse.

  I was quite lost in thought about this new life, when I realised that Cochrane was still talking and describing our travel arrangements. He had to return to Santiago to finalise his affairs there and hand over to a successor. His brother, Erskine, was also to remain in Chile as negotiations were continuing over the Rising Star. But Cochrane thought that we would be ready to sail by mid-January. He had already chartered a brig for the purpose.

  So it was that we spent our last Christmas in Chile in a state of high anticipation. Most of us enjoyed the festivities at Cochrane’s property in Quintero, which had survived the earthquake better than most of Valparaíso. That is to say that only half of the building had collapsed and a guest house remained intact. The hired brig, the Colonel Allen, appeared in Quintero bay and was steadily loaded with possessions and a growing crew of volunteers, eager to follow Cochrane on new adventures.

  Our chief re-joined us in early January and I was surprised to see that amongst his companions was Maria Graham. She had lost most of her remaining possessions in the earthquake. Maria did not want to be left behind when most English people remaining in the country set sail with Cochrane, so he had offered her passage to Rio. She greeted me so warmly that I forgot about my earlier suspicions. Especially when I considered that her company would provide a welcome diversion during the voyage ahead.

  I will spare you much of the detail of the trip back to Brazil. It was not by chance that we set off during the height of summer in the southern hemisphere, when the winds around the southern point of the continent were supposed to be at their most benevolent. Cochrane eschewed the course through the islands that we had used before and sailed south of the farthest tip of land. If that is what they called summer there, I am glad we did not see winter. A tempest howled through the rigging, pushing the vessel on as fast as any I have ever been in. Cochrane was exuberant, constantly adjusting the trim of the sails to get the most speed without losing a spar, or worse. It is the only time I have seen a three-masted ship move with the same agility as an outrigger canoe through surf.

  Once that excitement was passed, we went at a more sedate pace up the eastern shore of South America. By then Maria and I had resumed our previous, more intimate, relationship. This was not easy on a crowded brig, with the lady needing to retain some semblance of propriety. Each afternoon, when most officers were on deck or in the wardroom, she would retire to her cabin at the end of the passage, ostensibly to read. A short while later I would make a point of announcing that I was going to my cabin for a ‘nap’. The others weren’t fools; I am sure that they guessed what was happening, but were too gentlemanly to say so. For the pair of us on that voyage, ‘rounding Cape Horn’ had a whole different meaning. As a result, the trip back up the coast did not seem nearly as tedious as when I had travelled down it.

  The weather got warmer and we would lie together, sweaty, in the stiflingly hot little cabin. Maria would prattle on about Byron while my thoughts turned increasingly to Aphrodite. In such close confinement, even a paragon of virtue would become an irritation after a while and neither of us could claim to be that. She may have sensed that my attention was elsewhere and I certainly tired of her peons of praise for Lord George. We ended up having a blazing row when I told her that the only thing about Byron I had admired was his dog, and that I was sure the hound was the better poet. The next afternoon when I went for my ‘nap’ I found her cabin door firmly locked.

  Fortunately, my break up with Maria occurred only three days before we glimpsed on the horizon the huge monolith of the Sugar Loaf Mountain, marking the entrance to Rio Harbour. Our arrival may have been less impressive than in the Rising Star, but there was a heightened sense of expectation as officers gazed about the bay with their telescopes searching for their new commands. The 74-gun ship was soon spotted, now renamed the Pedro Primeiro, or ‘Pedro the First’, in honour of the country’s new ruler. When I had last been here, Prince Pedro had been the prince regent and heir to the throne of Portugal, but now he was known as the first emperor of Brazil.

  Those who knew more about ships than I all agreed that the new flagship appeared a sound craft in good condition. Around her were anchored two more powerful frigates and four other sizeable, well-armed brigs. These were apparently just part of the force we would command. I am sure that many of my brother officers were imagining the wide natural bay of the port filled with their captured prizes and the resulting booty they would earn. All seemed to bode well and even my well-honed poltroon’s instinct did not sense any of the trouble to come. All I could think of was celebrating my return to this fair city with a reunion at Madame Sousa’s.

  As we closed in on the harbou
r area, I saw that a launch was rowing towards us. I was amused to see that the officers in the stern were the same ones that had greeted my previous visit. They were obviously expecting us and looked terrified as they answered Cochrane’s hail. It was as though they thought horns could sprout from his forehead. We were directed, not to a mooring, but instead to a vacant wharf in the centre of the harbour. It must have been the old royal jetty, for there was a large whitewashed wall next to it. The whitewash was recent and thin and did not entirely obliterate what had once been a huge mural of the Portuguese coat of arms underneath. Over the top of it, someone had painted a great big map of Brazil. It was only then, I think, that I really began to appreciate the sheer scale of the country and the vast area that Cochrane’s navy would have to patrol.

  You will have seen maps of Brazil yourself. Rio is in the south. However, there was nothing at all marked on the map for the interior of the country. For all I knew, Jackson’s wild theories could have been right and the land was full of unicorns, tribes of murderous midgets and cities of gold. What I was certain about was that I would not be going there to find out. It was probably dense, disease-filled jungle and the unicorns were welcome to it. There was more than enough along the coast to interest us. All the major cities were either facing the sea or just a few miles upriver and within easy reach from the Atlantic. The total coastline was over four thousand miles long. In a straight line, that was the same distance as from England to India. The coast was full of coves, inlets, rivers and places for shipping to hide; it promised to be a rich hunting ground

  As we stepped ashore across the gangplank, Cochrane stared up at the map and grinned. “The Portuguese are still trying to hold on in the north of the country. In the old days, they divided the land up into captaincies and gave them to loyal men to administer, but several have barely been developed at all. There have already been attempts at revolts in some. Look there,” he pointed at a town two-thirds of the way up the map. “That’s Salvador, the capital of the Bahia captaincy. It’s one of the biggest cities, and the wealthiest. There is a thriving sugar industry; they grow pepper, nutmeg and all manner of spices and of course they harvest tons of valuable timber. I am told that they even had gold mines, but I don’t know if they are still finding ore.” He surveyed the smiling faces of his officers standing around him and added, “Gentlemen it is all here for us to plunder.”

  All in good time, I thought as I eyed a group of chair porters at the end of the jetty. I was sure that my pulse was already quickening in anticipation of my reunion with the goddess of love. “Well, I have some business to attend to,” I announced as I stepped away. “I will meet you back on the ship, probably in the morning.”

  “Flashman, you cannot leave,” called out Cochrane behind me.

  “Why the devil not?” I retorted irritably.

  The admiral grinned as he held up a paper that had just been handed to him. “We are all invited to attend, at the pleasure of the emperor himself, a meeting hosted by one of his ministers. So, Thomas, your pleasure will have to wait.” There was a chuckle from my brother officers at that, for I had told them about Madame Sousa’s and they had seen me vigorously washing in several buckets of sea water that morning. They had little doubt where I was going.

  We went by carriage this time to a villa inhabited by a man called Andrada. He had been one of the leaders behind the movement for independence. It was a spacious property on the outskirts of the city with extensive grounds. I began to feel distinctly underdressed for meeting royalty – at least the others were in uniform. I was wearing a white linen shirt and trousers, with a brown waistcoat; chosen more for the speed I could remove them than anything else. We were shown to a large veranda and served drinks. An old retainer advised that the minister would be with us shortly and that the emperor was riding down from his palace higher in the hills. In the event, an hour passed before the minister appeared; with me pacing up and down in increasing agitation at the waste of time that could have been so much better employed in town.

  Even though he had issued the invitations for this gathering, when Andrada finally arrived through the door, he appeared more irritated at our presence than pleased. He was holding a sheaf of papers and a secretary in his wake was carrying another armful.

  “Which one of you is Cochrane?” he enquired peremptorily. Cochrane introduced himself and the rest of us without taking offence. When my turn came, the minister gave me a cursory inspection and demanded to know why I was not in uniform.

  “Lieutenant Flashman has not yet had the opportunity to have one made,” started Cochrane.

  “You are aware we are seeking experienced officers, Admiral?” stated Andrada, giving me another dismissive glance.

  That was the final straw for Cochrane, who until then had shown remarkable tolerance for one usually so quick to take offence from his superiors. “Lieutenant Flashman has a wealth of experience in both the navy and the army. He will be invaluable in training your marines; that is if we agree to accept your offer of employment.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Andrada, alarmed. “I thought your appointment was all agreed. His Highness is on his way here now to welcome you to his service.”

  “We have yet to have your written confirmation of our terms, pay and rank. Notwithstanding that, I have already made it clear to your representative in Chile that I will need to satisfy myself as to the nature of your government before my men and I agree to serve it.”

  “‘The nature of my government’?” repeated Andrada, astonished that someone would dare question him.

  “Yes,” said Cochrane coolly, ignoring the red flush of anger that was spreading across the minister’s cheeks. “For example, we will not serve a government that oppresses its people and I could not help but notice on the way here the vast numbers of your people that are still held in slavery and bondage.”

  The knuckles on the minister’s hand holding the papers whitened and for an instant I thought he would damn our impertinence and throw us out. But after a moment his shoulders sagged as he relaxed and then he took a seat, gesturing for us all to do the same. “I forgot, Admiral, that you were once also a politician in your own country. I can assure you that the emperor and I are committed to abolishing slavery. We have already outlawed some of the worst practices, banned the import from Africa of further slaves and decreed that children henceforth born of slaves will be free. But we must balance this with other priorities. The economy of many parts of the country, particularly in the north, is dependent on slaves. If we were to ban slavery entirely now, we would spark a civil war, when we are already fighting the forces of the Portuguese parliament. The country would be torn apart, with great loss of life of both slaves and free men.”

  As the minister spoke, a man with a leather satchel over his shoulder came up behind him, who I took to be a courier. Like me the newcomer was wearing a loose shirt with a waistcoat, but sporting a wide-brimmed straw hat. He smiled at our gathering and then spoke, “The admiral should be in no doubt that I intend to achieve the freedom, if not the prosperity, of all my subjects during my rule.”

  “Your Majesty!” gasped Andrada, getting to his feet. We all followed his example as we realised who this new arrival was.

  “Sit down, gentlemen,” cried the emperor, throwing himself into a vacant chair. “Here,” he passed his satchel to his minister, “some birds for your kitchen that I took on the way here.” Then he turned to the rest of us and asked, “So you are my new naval captains. Tell me, how will you command my ships?”

  We looked at Cochrane, but he was still staring in surprise at this energetic young man, who had been revealed as the ruler of this new country. In the end, it was Crosbie who spoke up. “We will sweep the Portuguese from your waters, sir, as thoroughly as we have driven the Spanish from the coast of Chile.”

  “I think you mean you will sweep away the forces of the Portuguese parliament,” corrected Andrada. It was then that I began to appreciate just how complicated life w
as for this new emperor. For it was his father who was still the head of state in Portugal, even if its parliament had all the power. Emperor Pedro was heir to the Portuguese throne and could one day rule over the forces that his navy was currently proposing to destroy.

  “I am sure that you will do your duty against whichever force opposes you,” smoothed the emperor before turning his attention to me. “And you, sir, are you not also a naval officer? I see you are not in uniform.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but Cochrane at last seemed to have recovered his faculties and spoke up instead. “Lieutenant Flashman, sir, has not yet had chance to have a uniform made. He joined the Chilean navy just before we departed, but he is a very experienced man. He was one of my officers when I captured a large Spanish frigate back in ’01 when my own crew numbered just fifty-four.” If you have read my previous memoirs you will know all about the capture of the Gamo, but of course the emperor was not familiar with it and demanded details. Cochrane recounted the tale and at the end of it the emperor announced that he was sure he had the finest men for his navy. Then he beckoned a servant and whispered in the man’s ear before sending him away.

  “Tell me, Admiral,” the emperor said when he had finished. “Did I understand my minister correctly earlier, when he mentioned you were previously a politician? Were you a member of the British parliament?”

  “I did have that honour,” confirmed Cochrane, “and for all its faults I am convinced that a democratic parliament, aligned with a constitutional monarch, is the finest form of government.”

  “His Majesty and I have had this conversation several times,” interrupted Andrada. “Your system of government in Britain is to be admired, but Brazil is too young a country to consider it. We need to establish a stronger foundation for democracy first.”