Freebooter

by Tim Severin

  ‘One of Her Highness’s attendants,’ Gibson answered. ‘She will confirm that her mistress remains under our care.’

  Vieira remained impassive. ‘As you must be aware, it would be most improper for this aristocratic lady to remain in male company now that she has come ashore.’ He looked past Hector’s shoulder to the under-officer. ‘See to it that she is taken to the women’s quarters.’

  Gibson shifted uneasily, clearly unhappy about the direction the interview was taking. Hector decided it was time to speak up. ‘It has been a long voyage for all of us.’

  He saw a flicker of understanding in Vieira’s eyes as the deputy governor took the hint. ‘You must both be looking forward to getting some rest. I’ll arrange rooms for you overnight so we can continue this conversation tomorrow when you are refreshed. A clerk and an interpreter will be on hand to write down precisely what message you wish to send to Emperor Aurangzeb.’

  He did not trouble to rise to his feet though it was clear the meeting was over. Hector took Gibson by the elbow and steered him toward the door. He could tell that the quartermaster was furious and frustrated.

  ‘It’s a mistake to let that woman be taken away from us,’ he growled at Hector as they returned down the stairs to the guardroom. ‘She’s our only proof that we’re got someone from the emperor’s family on Pearl.’

  ‘Nothing has changed,’ Hector assured him. ‘Vieira will speak with her and she’ll confirm that we are holding a hostage.’

  ‘You’re the one who’s supposed to get on well with the Portuguese,’ Gibson snapped angrily. ‘You better make sure that Vieira knows we are serious.’

  The quartermaster remained surly throughout the meal set out for them at a table in the guardroom. They and the two sailors from Pearl ate under the gaze of the soldiers who now acted more like prison warders. Afterwards they were taken to what must once have been sleeping quarters for the garrison officers. Each was shown into a cell-like room, and locked in.

  ✻

  Hector lay down on the cot and listened to the croaking calls from unknown birds coming in through the small open window. The smells of spiced cooking drifted up from the fires of the garrison troops. There were occasional snatches of their conversation in a guttural language he could not understand. Soon afterwards, and to his surprise, he also heard the sound of church bells, quite close by. He got up and looked out of the window. By craning his neck he could see over the castle’s outer wall to a white-painted spire. The Christian townsfolk of Diu were being called to evening prayer. When the chimes ended, he returned to the cot and lay down again, hands clasped behind his head, and stared up at the whitewashed ceiling mottled with specks of mould. The familiar sound of the bells had caused a surge of nostalgia. His thoughts turned to Maria in the Canaries with her baby and waiting to hear from him about their plans for the future. The meeting with Pedro Vieira had given him much to think about. He felt that the deputy governor of Diu was someone whom he should ask for advice on how, or whether, to follow up on Pedro Tavares’s suggestion that he take service with the Great Mogul. But first he needed to devise some way to get Jacques and Jezreel off Pearl.

  ✻

  The soft click of the door lock roused him some time after midnight. He could just make out the figure of a native servant standing in the open doorway. He had been half-expecting the summons and was already dressed. Treading softly past the doors to the other rooms, he followed his guide back along the corridors to the office of the deputy governor. Except for the light from a candelabrum set on Vieira’s desk, the room was in darkness. The windows were open to the warm night air and the buzzing and scratching sounds of myriads of nocturnal insects. The deputy governor was seated in the shadows just beyond the pool of yellow light which fell on a single chair placed in front of his desk.

  ‘Take a seat, and tell me who you really are. Then explain what you are doing with that gang of criminals and outlaws,’ Vieira began. His voice, flat and emotionless, gave no hint of his mood.

  ‘My name is Hector Lynch, and I’ve been on Pearl for less than a week.’

  ‘Long enough to be involved in an ugly plot to kidnap and ransom a member of the emperor’s family. Am I right?’

  ‘That’s correct,’ Hector admitted. ‘Captain Mayes devised the scheme and I’ve gone along with it because it gave me a chance to get off his ship.’

  ‘I’ve spoken with the lady whom you brought ashore, and she confirms that Mayes forcibly removed her and a companion from Ganj-i-Sawa’i on a voyage from Jeddah to Surat.’ The deputy governor leaned forward and his eyes glittered in the candlelight. ‘They were travelling in attendance to Her Highness Gaucharara Begum.’

  ‘I didn’t know the exact identity of their mistress, only that she is a sister of the Great Mogul,’ Hector protested.

  ‘A full sister,’ Vieira informed him coldly. ‘She’s the daughter of Shah Jahan, the previous emperor and his favourite wife, Mumtaz Mahal.’

  ‘Her Highness remains aboard Ganj-i-Sawa’i. Captain Mayes was duped into kidnapping the wrong person. So no harm was done.’

  Vieira treated Hector to a withering look. ‘That is only partially true.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Hector countered. ‘The officer in charge of their escort was involved in the deception . . . a countryman of yours by the name of Tavares.’

  ‘Jeronimo Tavares?’

  ‘Yes, Jeronimo. The two of us tricked Mayes into selecting the wrong victims. That was also what Her Highness’s attendants wanted, as it turned out.’

  Mention of Tavares’ name brought about a softening in Vieira’s tone. ‘I think you’d better tell me the full story of what happened,’ he said quietly.

  Hector took a deep breath and began to explain how he had sailed from St Mary’s with Avery aboard Fancy, the ambush of the pilgrim fleet, the sacking of ‘Exceeding Treasure’ and how Mayes had seen a chance to kidnap a member of the Mogul’s family and demand a ransom.

  Vieira listened without comment. When Hector finished, there was a troubled look on the deputy governor’s face.

  ‘I’m distressed to hear that Jeronimo Tavares is so badly hurt. It sounds as though he’ll be cruelly disfigured for the rest of his life. Jeronimo is my cousin on my mother’s side.’ He allowed himself a hint of a nostalgic smile. ‘When he came to Portugal for artillery training, the two of us had many good times together – making the rounds of taverns and chasing girls. He always claimed he was more successful because he was the better looking.’

  The candlelight cast deep shadows under his eyes as he paused to gather his thoughts. Then his voice took on a firm, decisive edge. ‘There is one thing in this whole hostage affair that you have overlooked.’

  Hector waited for him to continue.

  ‘Those two women whom you describe as being “attendants” on Gaucharara Begum are not ordinary serving maids. They come from the very best Mogul families.’

  Hector was puzzled. ‘But they did not give that impression.’

  ‘Nor would they. In Portugal, we would describe them as court ladies-in-waiting. They were accompanying the emperor’s sister while she was undertaking the most important pilgrimage of her life. In that situation their mistress is required to be humble, lacking in pretension, a simple pilgrim.’ Unthinking, he had raised his hand to the little cross hanging against his chest from the gold chain. Hector suspected that Vieira had made a pilgrimage himself to a Christian shrine.

  ‘By the standards of the Mogul court a journey made with only two ladies-in-waiting is the equivalent of wearing a hair shirt,’ Vieira continued. ‘Under normal circumstances Gaucharara Begum would be attended by a staff of at least forty women ranging from wardrobe minders to hair dressers and those whose sole function is to blend the exact perfume she wishes to wear that day.’

  He gave Hector a bleak look. ‘To be chosen to accompany the emperor’s sister on the pilgrimage, and as one of her only two ladies-in-waiting, is a remarkable honour, bestowed o
nly on highest-born aristocrats.’

  ‘So Mayes still holds a very important captive.’

  ‘Correct, a prisoner who must be restored to her family as quickly as possible. Otherwise there will be serious repercussions for anyone even remotely involved in her captivity, and that,’ he added heavily, ‘includes my own people here in Diu.’

  ‘But they had nothing to do with the kidnap,’ Hector objected.

  Vieira’s mouth turned down in a sardonic smile. ‘Lynch, you need to understand the atmosphere of deep suspicion that pervades the Mogul court. The Moguls are outsiders in Hindustan, almost as much as we Europeans are. They are a tiny ruling minority, constantly on their guard for any attempt to topple them. They also conspire amongst themselves to gain a larger slice of power and riches, so do not trust one another. Naturally, they expect others to be doing the same. The moment they hear about this kidnap they will think that it was cooked up between Captain Mayes and me, or my superiors.’

  Hector felt a twinge of guilt as he recalled this was exactly what had crossed his mind when Mayes had first suggested taking the hostages to Diu: he had wondered if Mayes would offer the Portuguese a cut of the ransom price. ‘So there’s no point in trying to get the hostage back by paying a lesser ransom, after you’ve informed Mayes that his hostage is not as valuable as he thinks?’

  Vieira shook his head. ‘Even with a reduced ransom, the Moguls will still suspect me of collusion with Mayes. It’ll be a case of two untrustworthy foreigners plotting together. Family honour is also involved. There is enough shame for a Mogul family that foreign infidels hold captive a daughter or wife. To get her back by giving in to the kidnappers’ demand and paying a ransom adds to the disgrace.’

  Hector saw the direction that Vieira’s thoughts were taking and his next words confirmed it. ‘We have to find a way of getting the lady off Pearl.’

  They sat in silence. Hector had noted the use of ‘we’ and he had a proposal to make to the deputy governor. A scheme had occurred to him just as he was dropping off to sleep in his locked room, a scheme that required a certain amount of luck to be successful. Above all, it required Vieira’s active participation. He eyed the deputy governor seated at his desk. The Portuguese showed no signs of softness. He looked tough and wiry as if he could handle himself in a tense situation.

  ‘Pearl’s company is a slovenly lot,’ Hector began. ‘If taken by surprise, they would be slow to react.’

  ‘And what sort of surprise do you propose we spring on them?’

  ‘I have two friends aboard Pearl. Both men are competent and quick-witted. Mayes is holding them hostage against my return to his ship.’

  ‘Hostage-holding seems to be the man’s style,’ Vieira grunted.

  ‘With their help I think we can get the lady off the vessel.’

  Vieira leaned forward; his face was alert with curiosity. ‘Set out the details.’

  ✻

  Next day it was well into the afternoon when Hector and Vieira finally came within hailing distance of Pearl, lying at her anchor. It had taken them the best part of two hours of tedious progress across a flat oily calm in what the deputy governor called a thoni, a local working boat rowed by scrawny native oarsmen. The day was hot and muggy, and each man labouring at the crude-looking oars wore no more than a loincloth and a cotton rag around his head to keep the sweat out of his eyes. By contrast, the deputy governor was magnificent in his formal dress: a coat of peacock blue embroidered with silver thread, a brocade waistcoat, cream-coloured breeches, silk stockings, and polished black shoes with silver buckles and two-inch heels. White lace frothed at his cuffs and throat, and he wore a neatly curled wig under his broad-brimmed velvet hat.

  ‘Do we know the lady’s name?’ Hector asked under his breath as the thoni crept within pistol shot of Mayes’ ship.

  ‘Salima. Her uncle is Abdul Ghafar, a member of Aurangzeb’s diwan, his inner circle of ministers,’ the deputy governor answered. Drops of sweat were oozing from under his wig, trickling down his cheeks and leaving tracks in the light coating of face powder to add to his dandified look.

  Hector checked the thoni’s crew one last time. They were an ill-assorted lot. Two were in their late teens, one gangling fellow was old enough to be their father and several faces bore the marks of childhood smallpox. The only similarity between them was that they all had moustaches and looked too scraggy to pull an oar. There was nothing that Hector could see that identified them as soldiers. Vieira had assured him that every one of them was handpicked, came from a fishing family and was an excellent boatman. Their muskets lay hidden in the bottom of the boat, covered by palm fronds.

  He could see Mayes’s burly frame among the sailors lining Pearl’s rail. They had been observing the thoni’s slow approach for the past half-hour, and Hector was close enough to see one of them was armed with a blunderbuss while several others carried muskets. He was relieved to note that Pearl’s crew had been too lazy to shift their boat after returning from shore the day before. It was still tied to the foot of the rope ladder left dangling over the ship’s side.

  He stood up, cupped his hands and called, ‘Captain Mayes! I’ve brought the governor of Diu. He’s ready to listen to your proposal, but wants to meet the lady first.’

  Beside him in the boat Vieira got to his feet and, wobbling slightly on his high heels, showed himself in his official costume, his hands held out from his side to make it clear that he carried no weapons.

  ‘The governor may come aboard,’ Mayes shouted back. ‘Where are Gibson and the two men I sent with you?’

  ‘They stayed to enjoy the town,’ Hector called up. The truth was that Gibson and the two sailors were still shut in their rooms.

  The thoni’s crew brought their craft to where Hector could push Pearl’s boat out of the way, grab hold of the ship’s ladder and scramble up. Vieira followed, awkward in his finery, and tripped and nearly fell as he set foot on Pearl’s deck where Mayes was waiting. The smug look on the freebooter captain’s face had replaced his usual scowl though his eyes remained hard and calculating. His ship’s company clustered behind him, pressing forward and eager to follow what was going on.

  ‘Captain, may I introduce the Governor of Diu – Pedro Vieira,’ Hector began.

  ‘Deputy Governor,’ Vieira corrected him in his slow careful English and offering out a limp hand for Mayes to shake.

  Mayes ignored it and came straight to the point. ‘A lady of the imperial family is aboard Pearl and I need to be paid before I set her ashore. It will be a considerable sum. If you can assist, I will reward you for your help.’

  ‘Mr Lynch has explained the situation to me,’ Vieira murmured, reaching into an inside pocket of his splendid coat, pulling out a large handkerchief of fine white lawn and languidly mopping his face. ‘Naturally I would like to see this passenger for myself. A formality of course.’

  Mayes turned to two of his men and ordered them to bring the passenger from her cabin. Hector positioned himself a little to one side and glanced casually around the crowd of onlookers. Jezreel was standing in the rear, towering over those near him. Jacques presumably would be close by.

  After a short delay, the crowd parted and Salima, as Hector now thought of her, came toward them. She was wrapped in the same long gown of yellow silk embroidered with patterns of tiny silver flowers that she had been wearing when she was taken from Ganj-i-Sawa’i. A fine shawl covered her head and shoulders, and she had drawn the free end across her face to conceal her features. Only her feet were bare, and as she advanced across the deck with small, neat steps, Hector noticed that she wore silver toe rings and anklets studded with tiny diamonds.

  ‘You can see that she is unharmed and in good health,’ Mayes said as Salima halted a few paces away. Hector detected a faint trembling and guessed that Salima was frightened to be on her own, without her companion, yet was managing to hold her nerve.

  ‘Yes indeed,’ Vieira agreed, again mopping his brow. He looked around anxio
usly. ‘Perhaps I could have a little space? The air is very close.’ Mayes glared at his men, and gestured at them to fall back.

  Vieira mopped his brow again, and returned the handkerchief to the pocket in the lining of the resplendent coat. When his hand reappeared, he was holding a small short-barrelled pistol. In two quick strides he stepped close to Mayes and pressed the muzzle of the gun against the captain’s ribs. ‘Tell your men to stand aside, captain,’ he ordered, his voice now sharp and clear. All trace of clumsiness was gone.

  Mayes froze. Stunned that he had been taken unawares so easily, his face set into a stiff, enraged mask.

  ‘I will not hesitate to pull the trigger. So do exactly what I tell you, captain,’ ordered Vieira calmly. ‘You will accompany me ashore where I will arrange for you to meet a representative of Emperor Aurangzeb.’

  While Pearl’s company were still recovering their wits, Hector darted forward to the man holding the blunderbuss and took the weapon. ‘Jezreel! Jacques!’ he called. ‘Get over here!’

  His two friends shouldered their way through the crowd. Jacques was grinning. He had snatched a musket from a sailor and Jezreel had got hold of a cutlass.

  ‘Jezreel, quick as you can. Get the woman over the side and into our boat,’ Hector told him.

  Everything was going exactly as he had agreed earlier with Vieira. If they moved swiftly, they should be able to get clear before Mayes’ men could stop them. He kept a careful eye on the front rank of the crowd in case anyone was about to reach for a weapon. Fortunately the press of men on the confines of the deck meant that those at the back could barely see what was going on, still less do anything to intervene.

  Jezreel shifted the cutlass to his left hand and reached out with his right arm. He intended to scoop up Salima, carry her to the rail and down into the boat. But the sudden movement panicked her. She started back, then she spun on her heel and fled in terror. Before anyone could stop her, she had run across the deck to the ship’s rail. There she clambered up, balanced for a brief moment and threw herself into the sea.