Hornblower in the West Indies

raise an even more violent to-do about a cargo of slaves run into Havana or Rio de Janeiro, than a shipping company pestered by privateers.

“At this moment, My Lord,” said Sharpe, “a raw hand newly brought from the Slave Coast is selling for eighty pounds in the Havana baracoons—and he cost no more than a pound in trade goods at Whydah. Those profits are tempting, My Lord.”

“Naturally,” said Hornblower.

“I have reason to believe that ships of both British and American registry are engaged in the traffic, My Lord.”

“So have I.”

The First Sea Lord had tapped ominously on the table in that interview when touching on this part of his instructions to Hornblower. Under the new law British subjects who engaged in the slave trade could be hanged, and the ships seized. But care would be necessary in dealing with ships flying American colours. If they refused to heave-to on the high seas for examination the utmost tact would have to be employed. To shoot away an American spar or to kill an American citizen would mean trouble. America had gone to war with England only nine years before over matters very similar.

“We want no trouble, My Lord,” said Sharpe. He had a pair of hard, intelligent, grey eyes deep-set in his puffy face.

“I am aware of that, sir.”

“And in this connection, My Lord, I must employ special emphasis in calling Your Lordship’s attention to a vessel making ready for sea here in New Orleans.”

“Which ship is this?”

“She is visible from the deck, My Lord. In fact”—Sharpe struggled out of his chair and walked to the cabin window—“Yes, there she is. What do you make of her, My Lord?”

Hornblower looked out from beside Sharpe. He saw a beautiful ship of eight hundred tons or more. Her fine lines, the lofty rake of her masts, the wide spread of her yards, were all clear indications of speed, for which some sacrifice of cargo-carrying capacity had been made. She was flush decked, with six painted gun-ports along each side. American shipbuilders had always evinced a tendency towards building fast ships, but this was an advanced example of the type.

“Are there guns behind those ports?” asked Hornblower.

“Twelve pounders, My Lord.”

Even in these days of peace it was not unusual for merchant vessels to carry guns, whether for voyages in the West Indies or the East, but this was a heavier armament than usual.

“She was built as a privateer,” said Hornblower.

“Quite right, My Lord. She’s the Daring; she was built during the war and made one voyage and took six prizes from us before the Treaty of Ghent. And now, My Lord?”

“She could be a slaver.”

“Your Lordship is right again, of course.”

That heavy armament would be desirable in a slaver anchoring up a West African river liable to a treacherous attack; she could easily have a slave deck with that flush build; her speed would minimise deaths among the slaves during the Middle Passage; her lack of capacity for bulk cargo would be unimportant in a slaver.

“Is she a slaver?” asked Hornblower.

“Apparently not, My Lord, despite her appearance. She is being chartered to carry a great many men, all the same.”

“I would like you to explain further, if you please, Mr. Sharpe.”

“I can only tell Your Lordship the facts as disclosed to me. She is under charter to a French General, Count Cambronne.”

“Cambronne? Cambronne? The man who commanded the Imperial Guard at Waterloo?”

“That’s the man, My Lord.”

“The man who said, ‘The Old Guard dies but does not surrender’?”

“Yes, My Lord, although report says he actually used a ruder expression. He was wounded and taken prisoner, but he did not die.”

“So I have heard. But what does he want with this ship?”

“It is all open and above board, apparently. After the war, Boney’s Old Guard formed an organisation for mutual aid. In 1816 they decided to become colonists—Your Lordship must have heard something about the project?”

“Hardly anything.”

“They came out and seized an area of land on the coast of Texas, the province of Mexico adjacent to this State of Louisiana.”

“I have heard about it, but that is the extent of my knowledge.”

“It was easy enough to start, with Mexico in the throes of her revolt against Spain. There was no opposition to them, as you understand, My Lord. But it was not so easy to continue. I cannot imagine that soldiers of the Old Guard would ever make good agriculturists. And on that pestilential coast—It is a series of dreary lagoons, with hardly an inhabitant.”

“The scheme failed?”

“As Your Lordship might expect. Half of them died of malaria and yellow fever, and half of the rest simply starved. Cambronne has come out from France to carry the survivors home, five hundred of them. The Government of the United States never liked the project, as Your Lordship can imagine, and now the insurgent government is strong enough to take exception to the presence on the shores of Mexico of a large body of trained soldiers, however peaceable their intentions. Your Lordship can see Cambronne’s story could be perfectly true.”

“Yes.”

An eight-hundred-ton ship, equipped as a slaver, could pack five hundred soldiers on board and feed them during a long passage.

“Cambronne is stocking her largely with rice and water—slave rations, My Lord, but the best adapted to the purpose for that very reason.”

The slave trade had had long experience of how to keep alive a close-packed body of men.

“If Cambronne is going to take them back to France I should do nothing to hinder him,” said Hornblower. “Rather on the contrary.”

“Exactly, My Lord.”

Sharpe’s grey eyes met Hornblower’s in an expressionless stare. The presence of five hundred trained soldiers afloat in the Gulf of Mexico was very much the concern of the British Admiral commanding in chief, when the shores of the Gulf and of the Caribbean were in as much of a turmoil as at present. Bolivar and the other Spanish-American insurgents would pay a high price for their services in the present war. Or someone might be meditating the conquest of Haiti, or a piratical descent upon Havana. Any sort of filibustering expedition was possible. The actual Bourbon Government in France might be looking for a pie in which to put a finger, for that matter, a chance to snap up a colony and confront the English-speaking powers with a fait accompli.

“I’ll keep my eye on them until they are safely out of the way,” said Hornblower.

“I have called Your Lordship’s attention officially to the matter,” said Sharpe.

It would be one more drain upon Hornblower’s limited resources for the policing of the Caribbean; he already was wondering which of his few craft he could detach to observe the Gulf Coast.

“And now, My Lord,” said Sharpe, “it is my duty to discuss the details of Your Lordship’s stay here in New Orleans. I have arranged a programme of official calls for Your Lordship. Does Your Lordship speak French?”

“Yes,” said Hornblower, fighting down the urge to say, ‘My Lordship does.’

“That is excellent, because French is commonly spoken among good society here. Your Lordship will, of course, be calling upon the naval authorities here, and upon the Governor. There is an evening reception planned for Your Lordship. My carriage is, of course, at Your Lordship’s disposition.”

“That is extremely kind of you, sir.”

“No kindness at all, My Lord. It is a great pleasure to me to assist in making Your Lordship’s visit to New Orleans as enjoyable as possible. I have here a list of the prominent people Your Lordship will meet, along with