Tenacious

Shaken, Kydd motioned to Bowden to help sway up the chest.

They took a barely visible path over the low scrub-covered hillock and Kydd could smell the scent of wild thyme and myrtle on the air. It led down to a wider bay with a small village of fishermen's dwellings by a beach.

Pons held up his hand for them to stop. There was no sound on the cool breeze beyond the distant bray of a donkey and laughter from one of the white stone houses. The walk resumed. A hundred yards short of the village Pons growled something to the woman.

'We wait,' she said. 'Here!' she added urgently, moving into the scrub. They crouched down, Kydd's senses at full alert. Pons entered a brightly lit dwelling, and emerged a few minutes later with an imperious wave. The woman rose warily and gestured towards the village. 'Es Grau.'

A smoke-blackened interior revealed it to be some form of taphouse, but the conversations ceased as they entered. Kydd followed Pons to a small room at the back, which reminded him of the snug in an English hostelry. 'Sit.'

Kydd slipped into a chair next to Bowden.

'Are we safe?' Kydd whispered to the woman. 'Those people know we're here.'

'Here you will not find th' Spanish.'

'They are Minorcan?'

'Minorquin!' the girl said impatiently. She wore a distinctive red cowl, which she let down to reveal black hair swept back severely into a queue, not dissimilar to the familiar tarry pigtail of the seaman. 'The Minorquin do not love those 'oo seek to master them.' Then a brief, wistful look stole over her as she introduced herself. 'Isabella Orfila Cintes—when I a little girl, you English sailor call me Bella.'

'L'tenant Kydd, an' Midshipman Bowden.' Kydd was reluctant to release his boat-cloak to display his uniform coat beneath, but he was stifling in the heat of the room.

'That is Pons—Don Pons y Preto Carreras.' She threw the words at the sullen man opposite. 'Our leader,' she added.

Pons snapped something at her.

'He ask, what do y' want of him, that the gran' navy of Englan' send you to Minorca?'

Kydd felt disquiet. Why had they not been told details by Stuart's staff? Were they trustworthy? And were they in possession of the secret of the invasion—its time, its place?

'I volunteered t' come,' he mumbled. Without their help his entire mission was impossible. Surely he would not have been put in contact with the Minorquins unless he was expected to make use of them. It was being left up to him to decide how much to reveal. 'Do ye know what is being planned for Minorca?'

'Planned?' Isabella looked puzzled.

Kydd saw Bowden's anxiety and knew he was thinking the same thing, but there was no help for it. 'We mean t' take this island from the Spanish,' he said quietly, 'an' very soon.'

'You—you will come wi' soldiers an' ships ...'

'Aye. An' we need your help.'

She stared at him then leaped up, knocking the table askew. 'God be praise!'

'?Que? ?Que?' Pons seized her arm to force her round. She replied in low, urgent tones, then Pons stood to proclaim dramatically what sounded like patriotic slogans.

Kydd gestured frantically for him to sit. 'There's much t' do before they come. We are here t' signal to our general where the Spanish are an' where they march to.'

Isabella's expression sobered. 'That is ver' dangerous,' she said darkly. 'What is your plan?'

'There is a big hill, a mountain called Monte Toro.' Isabella said nothing, her concentration growing intense. 'We mean t' climb up and see ...'—something stopped him going further— '... all of Minorca, and there we'll set up a little mast an' signal to th' ships at sea.' She made no comment, so he tried to explain further. 'Y' can see these flags fr'm a long distance an' send any message y' like.' He pulled the chest over and threw back the lid, then held up some of the flags. 'You see?'

'That is your plan?' she said icily. Pons affected disinterest at the sight of the bunting.

'It is.'

'You are all fools! Do you know what is up there on Monte Toro?'

'I've heard there's a nunnery, a convent,' Kydd said warily.

'It is. An' you know else? The army agree wi' you—a fine place for flags an' signals. They have their own post for flags. Guarded by th' heavy dragoons. So where is your plan now?'

Kydd tried to keep dismay from his face. 'We will find a place out of sight, o' course. Somewhere up there, on a roof—'

'Where is your money? In th' box?'

'Money?'

She took a deep breath. 'How you going to pay th' soldier to look away while you wave y'r flags?' Kydd kept an obstinate silence, his face burning. 'You must! If your ship can see th' flags so can the Spanish Army.' Her shoulders drooped. 'How ...'

Kydd had no answer. Then she looked up into his eyes. 'Ver' well, I will help you. But first—'

She went to the door and opened it. 'Juan!' she called loudly. There was movement inside and a nervous pot-boy arrived, carrying a jug and mugs on a tray.