The King l-4
Page 27
"Here, gentlemen. In the Spratly Islands." Twigg chuckled.
"Pretty far lost and gone from anywhere," Ayscough commented.
"But located so nicely for piracy, sirs," Twigg informed them. "Flat, tiny, and worth nothing to anyone. As our sailing master may attest?"
Brainard stood to address the assembly, flushing a bit at being before so many people. "There's water enough, wild goats and pigs to eat. Sea-birds and their eggs. Nobody lives there, though, not permanent. Too small to farm. Too low to make 'em safe durin' taifun season, 'cept for the highest hills inland. Good anchorage, I'll admit. Chinese pirates sometimes shelter there, same for other pirate bands like the Sea Dyaks. Have to bring in salt-meats and such if you plan on stayin' there a long time."
Brainard shrugged and reddened, trying to think of what else he might impart, but Twigg waved him off, which Brainard accepted with a whoosh of relieved breath.
"The Spratlys are two-hundred-fifty miles southeast of the Annamese shores, three hundred miles northwest of Borneo, right in the middle of the mouth of the South China Sea," Twigg related. "A ship, or ships, working out of here could control the shipping trade in time of war, especially if one were to be allied with native pirates who could patrol in their praos for likely pickings. Too far west for the Spanish in the Philippines to worry about. Too far north and west for the Dutch or Portuguese to deal with. Too far north and east of even this poor trading settlement of Bencoolen for England to look in on. I'm told a man named Francis Light may develop trading stations on the Malay peninsula soon, so that situation may change, but properly fortified and garrisoned, this little group of islands would be a hard nut to crack, even in time of war when a fleet might be available. This is where Choundas shall be. This is where he is based during the summer months. Where the pirates meet him. Where captured ships are looted, and their crews taken."
"And did we discover with whom Choundas and Sicard were in league, Mister Twigg?" Lieutenant Choate asked. "Would some of our prisoners be there still that we might rescue?"
"As to the last part of your question, I'm afraid the answer is no, Mister Choate," Twigg replied, frowning while rubbing the bridge of his nose as though in pain. "There is little chance that any Englishmen survived capture for very long. Especially if it was the native pirates who did it. Should they have, they'd have been taken east to Sulu Island and sold in the great slave markets there. And it would take a fleet to sail in there and free those unfortunates. As to the first part, we now know that the French are allied with the blood-thirstiest of the lot. The Lanun Rovers, from the Illana Lagoon on Mindanao."
"Oh, stap me!" Brainard hissed with alarm. "More likely, our people are skulls adorning their bloody praos by now!"
"Goddamn French!" Ayscough spat. 'Trust them to take hands with those devils. Not just as allies, but friends!"
"Well, not for very much longer, sir," Twigg said, chuckling dryly. "I propose we strike the Spratlys sometime after mid-June. When Choundas and his piratical crew will be there. When the Lanun Rovers will spend the summer with him. We may catch them all in one fell swoop!"
"And just where is your pirate now, sir?" Sir Hugo asked.
"He left Canton in late November, Sir Hugo. As I told you, I suspect he waited downriver at Macao for at least a week or so, to see if we would pursue him. When we didn't, he most likely stopped in at the Spratlys, then sailed for the French possessions in the Indian Ocean. We have information that his first stop would be lie de France, to have a refit in the yards there. Those same yards service the Royal French Navy, I might remind you. His usual course of action, his modus operandi, if you will allow me"-Twigg sniffed loftily, but gave them all a brief smile to remind them that he was human, after all-"would be to sail on for Pondichery, where he would load a cargo of Indian goods destined for Canton in the fall. A cargo that he would land at the Spratlys, since the goods would prove a liability to a privateering cruise. He does not load opium, only run-of-the-mill wares that will not spoil during storage ashore. The opium comes from our ships."
"And he didn't sell any out of Macao, as I recall, sir," Captain Ayscough stuck in.
"Indeed not, sir," Twigg agreed. "Part of his innocent pose is to deplore the opium trade. And a man so high-minded as to forgo the profits of opium could never, ever be suspected of anything so vile as piracy, now could he, hmm?" Which set them all into ironic laughter. "Then, he and Captain Sicard of La Malouine would meet in Pondichery."
"To put the bulk of their combined crews into Poisson D'Or, so he'd be as well-manned as any royal frigate, sir?" Percival asked with a hopeful expression.
"Exactly so, Mister Percival." Twigg beamed at him like a fond daddy. "Exactly as you surmised. Right, then! Here's Choundas, waiting in Pondichery for Sicard and La Malouine to arrive by at least the first of April, but she won't this year, nor next year, either, ha ha! By mid-April, he'll have smelled a rat. What's worse for him, Sicard was to bring the profits from both ships to him. He lost no money by having his cargo confiscated by the Viceroy in Canton. Their arrangement with that particularly corrupt mandarin made sure he'd get full value from it, and give him freedom of action to boot. But suddenly, he's starved of operating funds. There's nothing to purchase a cargo with in Pondichery. No money to buy arms and powder for his piratical allies. And, more importantly, no ship such as Sicard's to serve as his cartel for all the loot he expects to take this year of our Lord 1785. We've limited his options to an early raiding summer. Here!"
"It strikes me, though, Mister Twigg," Lewrie spoke up, "that even the most valuable goods such as silver and opium take up a fair amount of cargo space. Surely, La Malouine could not carry all of it. If only a quarter of the booty ends up in Canton, there must be some other ship, or ships, involved with Choundas yet. If he has, as you say, a full, believable cargo stashed in the Spratlys for his appearance in Canton in the fall, where does the rest of it go?"
"A great deal of it would end up in the market at Sulu, sir," Twigg countered. "Brasswares, copper, Indian cotton goods, all of it would be just as valuable among the pirate bands as it would in Canton. No, it'll be Choundas on his own this year, I'll wager. Driven by desperation to take more risks than before."
"If he's any brains at all, he'll know the game's over, sir," Lieutenant Choate insisted. 'Time to lay low for a season. Or sail home for France and let someone else take over for him for a while."
"Ah, but he can't do that, Mister Choate," Twigg insisted.
"If he leaves the Indian Ocean, he loses everything he's built up out here. No rendezvous with the pirates in the Spratlys, say. Then what pirate would ever trust another Frenchman to keep his word? He'd not only be discarding his present alliances, he'd be ruining a chance for anyone who follows. The French Ministry of Marine who dreamed up his dirty business would never stand for that, oh no! Why, they'd break Choundas to common seaman if he simply sailed away. And, I don't think our lad is the sort to cave in so quickly. He's an ambitious little Breton peasant, a jumped-up fisherman who has no desire to end his days netting sardines in a filthy little smack. Pride goeth before a fall, and our boy has an ocean of pride. No, he might be late for the rendezvous. He may come empty-handed, but he'll be in the Spratlys by June."
"So we should get Telesto back to Calcutta as soon as possible," Captain Ayscough surmised. "After a year in Asian waters, and all that time idle in Whampoa Reach, we have to careen and bream her bottom. The weed on her quick-work looks like the Forest of Dean. Land our cargo, unload the artillery first, then refloat her and outfit her for battle."
"And be back here toward the end of May, to pick up Sir Hugo's battalion and escort the Lady Charlotte transport to the Spratlys," Twigg said bouyantly. "Sail into harbor, land troops and guns, and blow Choundas, his ship and any pirates clean off the face of God's seas!"
There was a lot of cheering that ringing speech. Cheers for a chance for action after festering at Bencoolen in sodden heat and agues, for final retribution against the hated F
rench who had outmaneuvered them during the winter, for a chance that this whole affair would end and Telesto's flexible term of commission could end snug in some English harbor by early 1786. They would be two years away from friends and family by then, two years gone from their homes, and did not relish the prospect of a third.
Lewrie was not enthused, though. Troubling questions had their way with his imaginings. While he was most junior naval officer there, he knew he had to speak them aloud, before the conference ended. Later would look like croakum, and Twigg would not change his mind once they had settled on the plan, unless forced to, and afterthoughts would not be force enough.
"Excuse me again, Mister Twigg," he said, clearing his throat to draw silence enough in which to speak his piece, "but Choundas has had four months' freedom to refit. He's lost profits from this year's work, but there's no telling how much they earned the first two years. He could outfit another ship to work with him, hire a new crew to replace what he lost aboard La Malouine. And there's nothing to prevent him from already being in the Spratly Islands. We didn't peek in to see if anyone held the islands for his return, or if these Lanun Rovers were already there waiting for him. We have no idea what we're to sail into, really, and he has all the time in the world."
"Because I did not want to alert anyone who might have been in those islands until we were in all respects ready to strike when the basket was full, so to speak, Mister Lewrie," Twigg sneered in objection. "And, as I have just related, I have it on the very best authority that Choundas will sail to Pondichery first, waiting for Sicard to return and join him. That is his usual wont."
Twigg looked as if he'd enjoy picking up a "barker" and firing a pistol ball right through Lewrie's heart. The durbar had been going so wonderfully well, and his plan had carried, when up popped Lewrie with his morale-eroding carping!
"His usual style, sir," Lewrie replied, smiling. "But things aren't the usual this year. He has us to worry about. What the survivors of his crew remembered him doing in the past don't signify. He could have looked into the Spratlys and left some men behind as a garrison this time. Hired hands to man Pois-son D'Or with the hopes of meeting us on our way back to Calcutta, with La Malouine tailing us to make it two against one. He could be up in the Nicobars or the Straits of Malacca waiting for that this instant. Or rush back to the Spratlys ahead of last year's schedule while we have to sail for Calcutta and back, to gain a march on us. Seems to me, sir, if we wait 'til June we either hit an empty bag, or walk right into a bloody fleet of pirates and wide-awake Frogs."
He turned to his father, who was scowling at his audacity to speak to authority like that. "As my dear father may tell you, sir, his troops would do us no good aboard their transport if Choundas is ready for us. His men would stand no chance at all."
"And what would you suggest, my lad?" Sir Hugo inquired, stifling any objections that Twigg was more than ready to raise.
"That we hit the Spratlys now, sir," Alan stated. "That we do not allow Choundas to form a combination against us, with pirates of another cartel ship. Or hire another French captain to side with him. We're here, even against the nor'easterlies, two weeks' sail away, with nearly a full battalion of troops trained for shore landings and equipped to fight. Land our cargo here in Bencoolen for the nonce if we have to. Even if you have to sail to Calcutta and back afterward, we would hold the island before Choundas even knows Sicard is lost."
"Oh, God," Twigg sighed, shaking his head as though at the fire-eating impetuosity of youth. "Mister Lewrie, I thought better of you. If we do take the Spratlys, and Choundas arrives earlier, as you say, then he escapes before we're ready to strike him, and God knows what secret lair he establishes next. I'll not spend all this summer and all of '86 chasing him 'round the Great South Seas! And if we do take two precious weeks to delay our refit in Calcutta, we lose any chance of pursuing him."
"The Spratlys are a healthier climate for my father's men than Bencoolen, sir," Alan rejoined. "And we would not have to depend solely upon Telesto for support. If you could dispatch another well-armed country ship to our aid, once we're ashore…"
"And where, pray, do we find funds enough to do that, sir?" Twigg fumed.
"Why, from the profits of this year's trading season, sir," Lewrie responded. "That's what they're for, surely."
Twigg's jaw dropped open for a brief moment at the suggestion. And before he could put a refuting argument into play, Sir Hugo stood up and cleared his throat, wandering to the map to peer at it.
"Sounds like a good idea to me," he announced. "Does it not to you as well, as the senior Navy man, Captain Ayscough? Does your sailing master think a battalion could find decent provender there for a period of some months? Would it be healthier for my men?"
"If the place may swarm with pirates and Frogs, Sir Hugo, it'd support them decent enough," Brainard allowed. "And you have salt-meat and such for rations here, and in the transport. You could hold out long enough for us to get to Calcutta and back with more. And there's goats, pigs and fowl enough here in Bencoolen to take with you. As to the climate, it's be not near as hot, and a lot drier. Sea breeze'd make it seem ten degrees cooler."
"And there is the possibility that this Choundas fellow's pirates might already be there, could they not?" Sir Hugo speculated. "I don't know much about 'em, but it seems to me it'd be better to fight them now, before they could ally with French artillery and trained gunners. A battalion of well-drilled troops'd make mincemeat of 'em once we're ashore. Why wait until your foe is lined up and ready to fire, I say? My officers'll agree with me; the way to defeat a larger foe is chew 'em up into penny packets first. Then boot hell out of the remainder. Knacker the buggers bit at a time."
"Gentlemen, we…" Twigg tried to object.
"Lewrie's right, I think," Ayscough stuck in, enthused from his torpor. "As you are, Sir Hugo. Take them on in manageable portions, is the best way. Let's also allow as how Mister Lewrie could be correct in thinking that there's much too much booty for only one or two ships to carry. We might discover another Frog cartel ship such as La Malouine there. Hamstring the bastard even more."
"I might point out," Twigg griped, "that it is nearly two thousand miles back to the Spratlys, sirs. Fifteen days' sail against the prevailing northeasterlies at this season? Say three more to load the troops aboard the Lady Charlotte. Then nearly a month from there back to Calcutta. 'Tis the third week of March, now. First week of April would put us here, off the Spratlys. Then three weeks back to Calcutta would be the first of May. Not enough time to refit Telesto and clean her bottom, and make it back to the Spratlys before Choundas arrives. It simply cannot be done, sirs. But from here to Calcutta is only ten days! A week to unload cargo, lighten ship and careen her, a week to set her to rights again, and be back here to escort Lady Charlotte and the troops to our destination. By the end of May, sirs. By the first week of June, at worst. When Choundas most certainly shall be there, and may be confronted. And defeated."
"Then by all means sail to Calcutta direct from here," Sir Hugo said. "But let me take my battalion north now. The same argument obtains. We take the islands and the harbor, defeat what pirates we encounter, destroy or commandeer what works the French have built and await your return, snugly ashore and entrenched, as soldiers best understand, sir. And you don't wait until your ship is ready to put to sea. Do what… do what my son suggested. Charter or purchase a fast, well-armed ship and crew to come reinforce us."
"There'll not be half a dozen suitable vessels in the Hooghly to choose from, sir. The bulk of the country ships andEast Indiamen will still be in Macao, or on passage still," Twigg snarled.
"The slow ones will, sir," Lewrie stuck in. "But we don't want anything to do with a slow ship. Like that Rebel privateer John Paul Jones said, 'Give me a fast ship, for I intend to go in harm's way,' did he not?"
"And what's even harder to find in the East Indies than trained European soldiers, are trained European seamen and gunners," Twigg said in reply.
The assembly of infantry officers, Navy officers and civilian experts was drawn by Ayscough's prompting away from the table and the maps, to gather by the window and stare out through the rains and the water guttering off the thatch and bamboo roof.
"I conjure you to feast your eyes on the transport yonder, the Lady Charlotte," Ayscough directed. "For the benefit of you Army lads, she's the shabby old bitch on the left, not the splendid 'Bristol Fashion' lady on the right, ha ha!"
Lady Charlotte was indeed shabby, an old, neglected dray-horse of a ship, of about eight hundred tons burthen. She mounted some six-pounder chase guns, and sixteen twelve-pounder great guns on her upper deck, but had the gunports of a better-armed ship.
"My bosun may give up what paint we have," Ayscough told them merrily. "And he will, if he knows what's good for him! Lady Charlotte may be transformed into the very image of the stoutest fifty-gunned two decker as ever swum! A proper ocean bulldog!"
"Or, sir," Choate snickered, "she could end up looking remarkably like La Malouine."
"Why, bless my soul, you nacky young bastard!" Ayscough said with a booming laugh, the first anyone had heard him utter in months. "I do believe you've been conniving with Mister Lewrie. Yes, with a lateen yard on her mizzen for a spanker, 'stead of yon gaff and boom, she could be laying at anchor in the Spratlys, waiting for Choundas to return."