by Tom Williams
‘Admiral de Liniers.’
The two men made polite, constrained bows. De Liniers motioned Burke to a chair drawn up opposite his desk.
The admiral wasted no time in settling down to business.
‘You say you represent the Duke of York. Is that really so?’
‘The Duke is the Commander-in-Chief of the British Army. I report to him on matters of foreign intelligence.’
‘And you have his ear?’
‘He has been kind enough to give some weight to my opinions.’
De Liniers made a play of examining the maps before him, moving piles of books and rearranging the papers so that the approach to Buenos Aires was clearly visible.
‘I have considered your proposition. It is not especially attractive, but I think I have no alternative but to accept it. I am convinced that, whether I cooperate or not, the British will come. If they come in sufficient numbers, they will take La Plata and we will simply have exchanged one master for another. If I assist you, you will undertake to bring only a small force and you will guarantee us our independence under British protection.’
‘What would you call a small force?’
‘Fifteen hundred men should be enough, if you are confident of no serious defence.’
‘Fifteen hundred would leave us dangerously exposed.’
‘If the shore batteries fail to open fire and if a pilot were to guide you up the Plate to Buenos Aires, then fifteen hundred would be enough.’
James said nothing for a moment, reviewing in his mind all he had learned about the naval defences on the estuary of the Plate. Buenos Aires could not be taken with just fifteen hundred men if it were vigorously defended. On the other hand, he remembered the sketches he had made of Monte Video. Fifteen hundred men supported by a naval force could overrun the defences there. So, in the event of betrayal, the British would sack the town, justifying the expedition.
He offered the admiral his hand.
‘Very well. Fifteen hundred men.’
De Liniers ignored the proffered hand.
‘There is more.’
James sat back in his seat and waited to hear what the other had to say.
‘The British will allow free trade. They will recognise that we must have our own government. Our laws, customs, and currency are to be respected. We will not pay taxes to the British. We will be a British Protectorate, not a colony.’
‘But you will allow the British to garrison Buenos Aires and control trade on the Plate.’
‘Subject to my conditions, yes.’
James smiled.
‘Then I can see no problem.’
De Liniers did not return the smile.
‘There is one final condition.’
James raised an enquiring eyebrow.
‘I understand you have been concerning yourself in the affairs of Mrs O’Gorman.’
‘Mrs O’Gorman and I are friends, yes.’
De Liniers’ lip curled and he looked at James as if he were a peculiarly unpleasant insect.
‘You and Mrs O’Gorman are lovers.’
‘That is no concern of yours.’
‘On the contrary. It is my concern. You will cease your relationship with Mrs O’Gorman.’
James was silent, digesting what he had been told. De Liniers sat motionless, his hooded eyes intent on Burke.
James tried to convince himself that it was a joke. It would be a joke in bad taste, certainly, but the idea that de Liniers was serious did not bear thinking about. He looked for any trace of humour on the admiral’s face but the lips under that hawk-like nose showed no sign of a smile. Reluctantly, Burke was forced to believe that the future of La Plata was being bargained against the favours of the delectable Ana.
For a long moment, James seriously considered turning down the offer. He had, he realised, grown quite attached to Ana. It was, surely, unthinkable that he should, in effect, hand her over as a part of these negotiations. But then he had his own career to consider. He imagined trying to explain it to the Duke of York: ‘Well, your Highness, we could have taken Buenos Aires from the Spanish, but I couldn’t renounce the favours of a lady.’
‘Very well,’ he said at last. ‘You have my word.’
‘Your word, Mr Burke, will not suffice. There is a ship leaving for Rio de Janeiro this afternoon. You will be on it.’
The two men looked at each other in silence. Then, his face a mask, James rose to his feet.
‘I will convey your regards to Mrs O’Gorman.’
De Liniers’ lip twitched and, for a moment, James thought the admiral might be about to strike him, but he regained his self-control.
‘Goodbye, Lieutenant Burke. I trust we shall not meet again.’
*
James was used to travelling light. It took William just three hours to have everything packed. It took him another thirty minutes to make his farewells to Molly Simkins.
Ana was visiting a lady friend. James left without saying goodbye.
Chapter Six
The Santa Theresa carried a cargo of gold, silver, and the inevitable leather goods. She did not normally take passengers but de Liniers was not a man to be trifled with and Burke’s money was good. She was bound for Spain, of course, but she put in at Rio de Janeiro to offload some salt beef and wine and to take on board water and supplies for the months they would be at sea. Here, in Brazil, governed by friendly Portugal, James and William disembarked.
James looked up at the jumble of streets that ran down to the sea from the mountains that surrounded the city.
‘It could be worse, sir,’ said William.
James agreed. If he was to be exiled from Buenos Aires and Ana, there were far worse places to end up. After the geometric order of the Spanish towns in La Plata, Portuguese Brazil provided a welcome change. With its stunning setting, the sun shining on a sea of startling blue and the vivid greens of the jungle beyond the town, Rio de Janeiro would, James felt, proved an agreeable temporary base.
He established himself in comfortable quarters in the city and, for several days, concentrated on carefully composing his detailed report and his recommendations for the British to offer their protection to de Liniers and his rebels. Thus would South America be denied to the Spanish at little risk and for minimal military effort.
The day the report was completed, James retired to bed early. Usually a sound sleeper, he suffered an unusually restless night. He woke still tired and with a vague feeling that he had dreamt and that Ana had been in those dreams.
William entered with his morning tea to find him already up and pacing his room with unaccustomed anxiety.
‘Shall I pack today, sir?’
‘Yes.’
James reached the wall and turned abruptly.
‘No.’
Five paces saw him at the other wall.
‘Yes.’
William stood in confusion.
‘Dammit, William. I don’t know what to do for the best.’ He paced the room again and then, abruptly, stopped.
‘You’re going home, William. I’m staying here.’
William was aghast.
‘You can’t mean that, sir.’
‘I’m afraid I do, William. This report is too important to leave to a written communication only. It needs to be delivered by hand and by somebody who can vouch for its contents. I would take it myself but I do not trust de Liniers. Someone must stay near La Plata to keep an eye on things – and I’m the only person that can do the job.’
‘It’ll take me three months to get this to London, sir. And another three months to get any reply back to you. That’s six months you’ll be stuck here, sir.’
‘I’m aware of that, William.’ Burke smiled. ‘But I think I might survive six months in Brazil. Even without your estimable services.’
A ship left for London a week later – a week that saw William fussing over his master’s linen and polishing his boots as if to ensure that all would remain clean and in good order for the next ha
lf year. Then, finally, he was on his way and Burke was left to his own devices.
He had, he reasoned, more than six months to wait for any military response to his report. It made sense to use the time to establish good communications with Buenos Aires.
He sat at the desk where he had composed his report and began to write again.
My dear O’Gorman,
I am sorry that circumstances forced me to leave so very suddenly. I trust you were not too much inconvenienced.
I find myself now in Rio de Janeiro, where I intend to stay for some months. I recall that you have often spoken of the difficulty of exporting all your goods by way of Spain and have complained that Englishmen trading with Brazil benefit from the more friendly relations between those two countries.
It occurs to me that in my present situation, it should be possible for us to form a mutually advantageous relationship. If you were able to transport your goods to Rio de Janeiro, using simply local transport, I could then re-export them to England, taking advantage of the improved tariff regime that would thus result.
I am aware that there are many informal trade routes taking advantage of the contiguity of La Plata and Brazil and I am sure that we could develop these to our mutual advantage.
In the interests of discretion, I can be reached in Rio de Janeiro under the name of Scott. I trust that I will hear from you at your convenience.
Please convey my kind regards to Mrs O’Gorman.
I remain, sir, your always humble and obedient servant,
O’Gorman’s response arrived barely a week later and Burke read it with some considerable satisfaction:
Dear Mr Scott,
You can imagine my surprise at receiving your letter when I expected that by now you would be well on your way back to England. I was, nonetheless, delighted to hear from you again – and with such an interesting suggestion. I am pleased that your mercantile instincts have been so stimulated by the time that you spent with us.
I must admit to finding your proposal has considerable attractions, but I will have to explore the possibilities of transporting my goods to you in a way that will minimise unnecessary bureaucratic obstacles. Once I have contacted persons of discretion who can attend to this aspect of the transaction, I will be in touch with you again.
Pray do not apologise for the suddenness of your departure. Any inconvenience was a trifling matter. Your horses were profitably disposed of. I would be happy to allow the sum raised as part of your capital for this venture. The llamas and vicuña are, I must confess, more problematic, there being little demand for such creatures here in the city. I am sure, though, that a solution will be discovered in time.
I have conveyed your regards to my wife, who expresses her gratitude that you remember her kindly. I think she is missing you. Certainly, since your departure she has been spending more time in Society and visits with her French friends almost every month. I have offered to escort her but she knows that, as I do not speak their damnable language, I should be bored, and she kindly excuses me from my duty.
Allow me to make my necessary arrangements and I will be in touch with you again as soon as can be.
I remain, sir, your always most humble and obedient servant,
He might have wished that Ana were spending less time with ‘her French friends’, but otherwise O’Gorman’s response was all that James might have wished. The merchant was ready to make his ‘necessary arrangements’ to avoid tedious ‘bureaucratic obstacles’ like taxes, and then James would have a way in and out of La Plata. And should anybody discover it, they would simply assume it was part of the already substantial trade in smuggled goods across the border. They would be unlikely to associate it with espionage.
While he waited for O’Gorman to organise matters from Buenos Aires, Burke relaxed and explored the country. He could almost wish that Britain were not so firmly allied to Portugal for Brazil was a country he would welcome the chance to reconnoitre. With its wild jungle and fantastic treasures (he visited diamond mines and watched gold panned from the rivers), it was a country to seize the imagination, but the inhabitants appeared resolutely loyal to their European masters. It was La Plata and the Spanish domains that were his concern.
It took O’Gorman a month to set up a route for his leather to be shipped to Rio – a month which Burke spent persuading the British ambassador in Rio to advance the capital necessary for his scheme. Finally, the first hides were on their way, moving first to Monte Video and then on fishing boats up the coast until they could be put ashore a discreet distance from where Burke waited to collect them. All he had to do was to arrange for carts to pick them up and transport them to Rio, after which he could export them to England with no payment of Spanish tariffs. It was a profitable business and, on his lieutenant’s stipend, it seemed to him that it more than justified his decision to stay in Brazil.
Throughout the southern summer, Burke was happy to spend his time in Rio. If only Ana were there with him, he thought, he would be happy to stay in Brazil for years.
O’Gorman’s letters provided all the news he needed from Buenos Aires, although they were usually more informative for what they didn’t say rather than for any positive information. The guerrilla warfare of the rebels was clearly making no significant impact. On the other hand, there was no news of the executions that would have followed any successful attempts by the Spaniards to put an end to them. The Spaniards were not reinforcing their garrison but neither were any men being sent home.
The smugglers were also able to give him news of Monte Video which, according to them, held only a skeleton garrison. All in all, it seemed, nothing was happening – which, as Burke enjoyed the Brazilian climate, Brazilian food, and Brazilian women whilst watching the profits mount in his trading enterprise, was exactly what he wanted to hear.
The one subject on which O’Gorman was a mine of information was the life and times of de Liniers. Ana’s indiscretions (for such O’Gorman chose to call them) with the admiral had reached the stage where even the most self-deluded husband could not hide from the truth. Understandably reluctant to unburden himself to anyone in the small British community in Buenos Aires, O’Gorman chose instead to confide in Burke. So, week after week, James received letters detailing where de Liniers had been seen in town, how de Liniers’ career flourished, why de Liniers was too powerful to challenge, how happy de Liniers was, how rich de Liniers was.
Although James tried to convince himself that Ana’s affairs were no concern of his, he found O’Gorman’s news would leave him unaccountably restless and prone to irritation. He was not surprised that Ana had turned back to the Frenchman. He could not object to her behaviour. He had, after all, abandoned her without a word of warning, but still he found himself hating de Liniers. He recognised his rival as clever, ruthless, and cunning. Their interests might have drawn them into an unnatural alliance for the moment but his instinct told him that one day the admiral would prove himself a dangerous enemy.
So life continued, with news of Ana the only cloud on his horizon, for over six months. Then, at Easter of 1806, news finally arrived from England. William had safely delivered his report to Colonel Taylor, who had passed it to the Duke of York, who had been impressed with it and passed it, in his turn, to Mr Pitt. Mr Pitt had smiled upon the strategy and an attack on Buenos Aires was to be set in motion as soon as the forces could be despatched.
Now Burke started the next stage of his plan. He wound down his trading concern and, as the very last delivery of hides was made, he was on the beach to meet it in person. When the fishermen started back on their journey along the coast, they took ‘Mr Scott’ with them.
The James Burke who disembarked from the little fishing boat that docked at Monte Video the following week was unrecognisable as the elegant officer who had left the city the previous year. He easily got work as a deck hand on the next ship sailing to Buenos Aires, where he disembarked to vanish amongst the stevedores of the port.
Stripped to th
e waist and wearing a pair of canvas trousers tarred against the wet, he was a fine figure of a man but with his hair crudely cut and without his elegant clothes, even O’Gorman didn’t notice him as the merchant inspected the goods being unloaded. James Burke had vanished and Manuel Vincenza had taken his place.
Manuel Vincenza was a good worker. So good that, from time to time, he would be called out from the crowd looking for employment and ordered to work loading a ship of the Spanish navy. And if that ship ended up with leaking water barrels and rats among the flour sacks – well, these things happened all too often, and no one associated them with Manuel.
For James, though, despite the amusement that such escapades gave him, the weeks spent loading and unloading at the docks were mainly a mix of hard physical work, periods of immense boredom, and continual frustration as the British army resolutely failed to appear.
*
Commodore Riggs Popham read the Admiralty despatch one more time. He put it on his chart table next to the last despatch and weighted it down with a metal turtle he had bought when they were re-provisioning once on the Gold Coast. He’d bought a metal fish too but he’d lost that. Damn shame, he thought.
Popham looked out of the great stern window of the Narcissus to where Table Mountain dominated the view. He was a long way from London but his mind kept returning to his last visit there and his meeting with Colonel Taylor. Worrying sort of chap, Taylor. Very tied up with all that cloak-and-dagger stuff. Taylor had insisted that they meet at his club and there they had dined in private, banning the servants from the room. Taylor was a tall man, lean with black hair. He seemed somehow menacing, though he was doing his best to be affable. There was a plan, he said, to deliver South America to the British. A plan so secret that the details were not to be committed to paper. And then he had explained about de Liniers’ treason (for, as far as Popham was concerned, that was what it was).
‘You have only to take fifteen hundred men and Buenos Aires will be yours,’ he had promised. ‘When your orders come, be assured that our agent there will be ready to assist you. He’s a steady man. Buenos Aires will fall and with it, La Plata. Within the year, Spain will be cut off from the source of her wealth.’
