Betrayal

cavern, and they were quickly confronted by a suspicious individual with a deeply lined face. ‘Hardiman, master,’ he growled.

Conscious of eyes on them and the need for privacy, Kydd introduced himself in a friendly manner, adding, ‘Not the press, sir, but I’d be obliged for five minutes of your time, if you would.’

The master gave him a piercing look, then grunted and took them aft to his cabin.

‘Could I ask where you’re bound?’ Kydd began.

‘Cape Town for orders.’

‘Not so profitable therefore. Captain, I’ve a proposition to make to you, as will be to your advantage.’ Nothing could be learned from the man’s stony expression so he pressed on.

‘We have need to ship a parcel of soldiers to South America and were wondering if you-’

‘Not possible. M’ papers say we’re cleared for Cape Town and be sure that’s where we’re going.’

‘A cash profit on a straightforward voyage? I’m surprised you refuse even to hear me.’

‘South America – you’re off t’ some war or other. No.’

‘Not even if you’ll render a great service to your country, sir?’

Hardiman gave a cynical grunt, then got to his feet abruptly. ‘I’ll see you off.’

Kydd felt a rising anger. ‘Be so good as to ask your supercargo to join us, Captain,’ he said, with a touch of steel. His single voyage as master in the merchant service had taught him many useful wrinkles. A supercargo was there to look after the interests of the freighting party against that of the ship.

‘He won’t-’

‘Please.’

The master gave him a foul look but leaned out of the door and bellowed orders to send for a Mr Maycock. After some delay a flustered little man came in. ‘This’n wants t’ talk with ye,’ Hardiman said coldly.

‘Ah, Mr Maycock, Captain Kydd. Sorry to have interrupted you, but I have a proposition for your principals. Should I offer you a cargo this very day for a quick voyage to the River Plate, as will be a bareboat charter party, would you be willing to talk?’ If it was taken up, the master would most surely find himself overruled.

There was an unmistakable gleam of interest. ‘Cargo?’

‘Soldiers is all.’

‘A transport.’

‘Of sorts. We must move very quickly on this, Mr Maycock.’

‘Ah. With a return voyage empty, I’d think a sum of . . . let me see . . .’

Kydd had only one card to play, and he gave it all he had. ‘Before we discuss rates, there’s a little proposal I’m authorised to make.’ This was not quite true for he had only just thought of it, but he knew Popham would back him.

‘I can say to you in confidence that we are on an expedition to Montevideo to join with rebels in overthrowing Spanish rule in the viceroyalty, which we have every confidence will be achieved rapidly. If you feel able to assist us, then the leader of the expedition states that, when the port of Buenos Aires is thrown open to free trade, this ship will be given the status of preferred vessel. This means that with the merchants there starved of export, all other shipping present must nonetheless first wait for you to take your pick of any cargo you desire, bound for anywhere to your best profit.’

It was irregular, if not downright illegal, but was within Popham’s power to carry out simply by forewarning Justina of dates and times ahead of any declaration. The pickings to be had would be princely, vastly outweighing any considerations of delay in reporting to Cape Town for orders.

He was rewarded with a quick intake of breath. ‘I understand you, Captain. We accept your offer.’ He rose, offering his hand. Kydd took it, suppressing a surge of elation.

The act was revealing: Maycock was not expecting anything written down that could later be used against either of them.

‘Be damned to it, an’ you can’t do that, mister!’ Hardiman snapped triumphantly. ‘Justina’s voyage insurance is t’ Cape Town only.’

Kydd hadn’t thought of this. It was no trivial point: the value of a well-found merchantman this size must amount to something like his annual salary for fifty years or more; even if the premium could be renegotiated it would certainly not cover an act of war.

Maycock looked at him pointedly and waited.

‘Very well. She’ll sail uninsured.’

Maycock kept a polite silence.

‘You’ll have my note of hand to say you’ll be reimbursed for her loss if the worst happens,’ Kydd said. There was no help for it. The risk was all his – the Navy would never agree to what he was proposing, and if the vessel was wrecked or captured, they would wash their hands of him.

He ignored Curzon’s look of appalled bewilderment and hoped his winning smile was convincing. ‘Excellent. We have an arrangement. An officer of the St Helena’s Infantry will be aboard directly to supervise your fitting for troop accommodation. Good day, gentlemen.’

The expedition sailed in two days with Kydd worried. Popham had approved of his move but had carefully ignored the mention of personal risk. The estuary of the River Plate was notorious for shoals and reefs, and when they sailed, Justina was not with them. She was still frantically being outfitted and stored and would follow when she could, easy prey to anything hostile, Spanish or French.

Popham had not felt able to deplete his main force to offer escort, and the thought of the vulnerable merchantman thrashing along alone in their wake was hard for Kydd to bear. Despite his nature he grew surly and snappish, swearing when Oakley’s bawling out of the afterguard on the open deck above broke into his dark thoughts.

The next land raised would be the enemy coast and the climax of the expedition, when they would be entirely alone and their best-laid dispositions would be tested to the full. Would they be good enough? Their knowledge of the viceroyalty was sketchy at best, the charts commercial ones of a previous age and by no means to the technical standard he was used to. Furthermore, details of the military deployments to be faced were based on rumour only.

When he and Popham had prepared the operation orders, he had been dismayed by the generalisations and assumptions they had been compelled to employ to cover for lack of intelligence. Before Blaauwberg they had been equipped by ships that had regularly touched at the Cape with vital knowledge of the terrain and enemy strongholds. Here the Spanish had kept away all but their own ships and smugglers, who were not about to make free with their information.

And with barely a quarter of the troops and a handful of guns. In the cold light of day it was beginning to seem more an ill-conceived impertinence than a decisive military assault. His disquiet about the entire conception and its implementation was growing.

L’Aurore, with her relatively shallow draught, would no doubt be the one ordered to conduct an early reconnaissance and he felt the responsibility keenly. Poor charts and hostile waters were by no means unknown to the Navy – feats of seamanship were performed regularly by the heroes on blockade off the French coast with never a complaint. He recalled Captain Hurd, an officer, like himself, from before the mast. In a humble sloop in fearful conditions he had conducted a secret hydrographic survey of Brest under the very noses of the enemy.

He couldn’t let the Navy down. Besides which-

‘If I’m intruding, I’ll come back later, brother.’ He hadn’t noticed Renzi hovering.

‘No, no, m’ friend. You’ve every right.’

‘Well, I . . .’

Kydd looked up and saw that Renzi was carrying a sheaf of papers.

‘You’re sore pressed, I know, but you did say you’d take a look. Do give me your opinion of its worth – as a regular-going reader, in course. I’m now half done, you know.’

‘I did say that, but I have m’ worries, Nicholas, as are taking attention. It might not be a fair judgement, is all,’ he finished lamely.

Renzi’s face fell and Kydd held out his hand. ‘Let me have ’em and I’ll tell you when I’ve read through.’

‘Things aren’t going so well for you?’

‘Just your usual mullygrubs afore an action, nothing to worry on.’