'Corporal, ' he called, 'the lanterns! '
'They're here ready, sir.'
'Light them, then put them up on the west wall! '
Three lanterns each set three feet apart on the west wall would tell the Jocasta - and the sergeant over at El Pilar - that San Antonio had been captured. Half the task was completed, and he looked round carefully before setting off to complete the other half.
He saw it in a few moments, and realized that he must have passed within a few feet of it in the rush to the steps. It was in the centre of the courtyard, and in the moonlight it looked as if it could be a well. He reached it to find a horizontal trapdoor which reminded him of a hatch in a ship. There was a padlock on it and he called for an axeman, one of the men who would, if necessary, have battered down the castle door.
A dozen well-placed strokes cut out the section of plank on which the hasp was bolted. Willing hands grabbed the door and swung it back, and Rennick saw that steps cut in rock went down into what was little more than a cave. He handed a Marine his pistol and cutlass and went down the steps. It was the magazine; stored in the cave were enough barrels of powder and cartridges to withstand a year's siege. He felt one barrel after another, and finally gave up counting before he came across bales of felt wads. Many hundredweights of powder; probably several tons. More than enough to do the job.
He called for the corporal and, after being assured that the three lanterns were in position on the west wall, helped unwind a length of slow match which the man had coiled round his waist.
Then Rennick carefully worked at the bung of one of the barrels, loosening it and finally pulling it out. He could feel the powder inside, and taking one end of the slow match he pushed it down until several inches of it were buried. Then he stepped back to the entrance of the magazine, carefully unwinding the match so that a sudden strain did not pull it away from the barrel. It had been cut to a special length, and would take half an hour to burn.
He sent the corporal up the steps first and then followed himself, patting his clothes to make sure that no loose grains of powder clung to the material.
'Now, are the prisoners ready?'
'They're under guard by the door, sir, all ready to march.'
Rennick thought of the half-hour fuse. 'Very well, you can start off for the beach with them. Wait by the boat for me. Leave two men on guard here. Now -' he looked round for two particular Marines '- Lumley, Rogers! Ah, there you are; come on, let's attend to those guns! '
As the corporal gave the orders which would start the prisoners down the path, Rennick ran up the steps to the guns, followed by the two Marines, each with a hammer tucked in his belt. Twenty-eight guns to spike, Rennick thought crossly, but at lhat moment he looked across the channel and saw the Jocasta emerge into the open sea. Mr Ramage would have seen the lanterns and known San Antonio was secured. What about El Pilar? He could just make out three horizontal lights on El Pilar's walls, showing that the sergeant had done his job.
As soon as Rennick reached the first gun, one of the Marines produced a small piece of steel rod, slightly tapered at one end. At an impatient gesture from Rennick he pushed the tapered end of the spike into the touchhole and gave it a gentle tap with the hammer to seat it. Then he increased the weight of the blows and the spike was slowly driven down into the touchhole, the top burring over slightly so that by the time it reached the rim of the touchhole itself it was fatter and needed one final heavy blow to drive it flush.
As they moved on to the next gun Rennick saw the Calypso gliding out of the entrance, following the Jocasta and the Santa Barbara. The entire Spanish naval strength of Santa Cruz, he thought idly, was now outside the harbour, prisoners of the Royal Navy, and the town slept peacefully.
The second Marine was now busy hammering home spikes, starting with the guns overlooking the channel. Rennick checked each man's work and finally watched the last spike being driven home. The Spanish would find it difficult to bore out these rivets so that the guns could be used again, but spiking was not an absolutely sure way of wrecking a gun, even if done carefully. Mr Ramage had refused him permission to put a double-charge of powder and three round shot in each gun, a degree of overloading that usually blew the barrel apart like ripping the skin from a ripe banana.
Rennick led the way down the steps to the courtyard, which was now deserted except for the two sentries guarding the magazine. He was carrying one of the lanterns, which he put down well clear of the entrance.
'Lumley, ' he said, 'give me a hand here, and you others go and wait by the gate, though you won't be far enough away if I make a mistake! '
The slow match came up the steps from the magazine like a thin snake. Rennick reached down and unwound the rest of it, leading it to windward of the entrance in as direct a line as possible - a sharp kink sometimes made it go out, and it was all too easy to run it through a puddle without noticing it.
'Fetch the lantern, Lumley, but don't drop it! '
As soon as the Marine came back Rennick told him to put the lantern on the ground. Then he knelt down and swung open the door. The piece of candle flickered slightly in a gentle breeze, and Rennick took out his watch, looked at the time, and picked up the slow match. He held the end against the candle flame and after a few moments the match began to splutter. Rennick put it flat on the ground and watched the tiny, slightly bluish flame as it moved along almost imperceptibly. It was burning steadily; in half an hour the flame should have reached that barrel of powder and gone down into the bunghole . . .
'Come on! ' Rennick said, and swung the castle door shut as he went out. He gave a nervous giggle as he realized the futility of what he had done, then hurried after his men.
They caught up with the Marine party and prisoners halfway down the path, the Spaniards so stunned by what had happened that they were not even talking among themselves. Rennick hoped they would not have recovered by the time they reached the beach: the boat taking them out to the Calypso would be overloaded.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When Ramage saw the row of lanterns appear on Castillo San Antonio he gave a sigh of relief which brought a laugh from Southwick. 'So you were worrying about Rennick, sir! '
'I was worrying about the job, not the man, ' Ramage said impatiently. He glanced astern. 'We're still in range of Santa Fe . . .'
Southwick sniffed yet again. 'I still can't see the commandant ordering his gunners to open fire on the Jocasta, or whatever her Spanish name was. On the Calypso, perhaps.'
'They can't tell which is which by now - ah, there are the lights on El Pilar. Both in our hands. I hope those Marines step lively on their way back to the boats.'
Southwick stared up at each fort as the Jocasta passed through a line joining them. 'I hope they don't make any mistake with the slow match, ' he said. 'I wonder how much powder they have in the magazines.'
'Plenty, ' Ramage said. 'Poor quality but plenty of it.'
'Let's hope there's enough to do the job. That San Antonio must have walls ten feet thick.'
The two men watched as the Jocasta came clear of the two headlands. Ramage brought her round to starboard a couple of points, well up to windward, so that when she was hove-to the current would slowly take her back towards the entrance. The Santa Barbara was still close in with the entrance but the Calypso was now showing up clear of the headlands.
Ramage looked at his watch. 'They should be spiking the guns now.'
'Waste of time, to my way of thinking, ' Southwick grumbled. 'Double charge and three roundshot: there's no chance of repairs, then.'
'Too risky, ' Ramage said, remembering that Rennick had made the same argument. 'Sixty-four guns altogether. Someone's bound to get excited and fire one gun too soon. And why rouse out the town and Santa Fe before we have to?'
Southwick shrugged his shoulders. The fact was that he agreed, but he was annoyed that his role in the night's activities had been slight. True, he had boarded the Jocasta, but he had expected to be given the job of taking Castillo San Antonio, and he was enjoying his grumbles.
'Take the conn, Mr Southwick, ' Ramage said. 'Heave-to the ship now, and make sure the Calypso heaves-to reasonably close. 1 want to go through some of those Spanish papers in my cabin.'
The Spanish captain of the Jocasta, he discovered as he began reading through the papers, was Diego Velasquez, and the way the letters were kept in neat bundles tied with different coloured tapes showed that he was a careful and precise man. Red tape denoted letters and orders from the Captain-General of the province of Caracas (the bulk was due more to the thick wax seals than the amount of paper), while blue tape secured correspondence with the Mayor and junta of Santa Cruz.
A quick glance showed Ramage that the Mayor of Santa Cruz, although given a lot of power and acting more like a governor, was very careful when drawing up orders to make it clear that he was acting for the junta. If wrong orders were given, the Mayor was obviously determined that his council would at least share the blame. Every order was issued on behalf of the junta, and to make doubly sure the Mayor listed the members present at each meeting. They ranged from the judge to the city treasurer; ten of the city's leading citizens.
The Mayor's letters dealt mostly with routine matters - reporting that casks of provisions had arrived and were ready for Velasquez, asking about the progress being made in refitting the ship, complaining of the strain on the city's finances caused by the need to feed all the troops sent on board . . . Then the almost hysterical warning to Velasquez of the insurrection among the Indians in the mountains, followed by a peremptory order (in the name of the junta) to send the troops on shore for them to march inland and put down the insurrection.
The Mayor was clearly happiest when forwarding instructions to Velasquez which came from the capital of the province, Caracas, a few miles inland from the port of La Guaira. 'His Excellency the Captain-General has honoured me with his latest orders, which the junta of Santa Cruz forwards to you and which I direct you to obey with all speed . . .' was his regular formula.
Ramage had begun by reading the Mayor's letters on the assumption that they would give the latest orders to Velasquez, but by the time he had read a dozen it was clear that they dealt mostly with provisioning and manning. Anything of any importance from the Captain-General had been sent direct to Velasquez. He tied up the Mayor's letters again and with a sigh turned to those from the Captain-General. Letters from the Admiralty in London were usually brief to the point of being taciturn; only formal documents like commissions used archaic and flowery language. But the Spanish were different: a letter from the Mayor telling Velasquez that ten casks of rice and five of chick peas were being sent to Santa Cruz from La Guaira meant three lines of elaborate introduction and another three to end the letter.
