Tenacious

Bowden's loyal opposition.

He returned to Isabella. 'We have an idea. Here's what we're going t' do—'

'I won't hear you!'

'You—'

'If I don't know your plan, how can I tell th' Spanish if they catch me?' There was nothing Kydd could say to that.

She looked at him squarely. 'Jus' tell me—when you wan' to be on Monte Toro ? '

'Before ten, tomorrow.'

'We will be there.'

There was one last matter. 'My midshipman needs t' return to the gen'ral. Can—'

'Pons will take 'im tonight.'

In the cool of the morning Kydd and Isabella set out over the steep tracks towards the rearing bulk of Monte Toro. Dressed in the homespun of Minorca, a waistband of faded red with abarca sandals and a low-crowned dull brown hat, Kydd led a donkey laden with onions in panniers, strings of garlic bulbs round its neck and two laundry baskets.

They did not speak as they reached the base of the massive mount and began to trudge up the steep spiral road. A thousand feet to go—the surrounding country began to spread out as they rose and the glimmer of sea appeared on the horizon. Further still and the limits of the horizon extended until even without a telescope the unmistakable winding shape of the Bay of Fornells became apparent. The panorama of low, rolling country out into the far distance was spectacular.

The gritty noise of a cart sounded behind. Kydd snatched a look and saw it was an army conveyance. He let Isabella chat on incomprehensibly. She stopped to give a cheery wave to the soldiers, who responded with catcalls.

They wound round the last few yards of the road, and suddenly were on the airy summit, a flat area with a squat, square reddish fort and a line of barracks one side, a white stone building the other, well shuttered. A hut and signal mast was atop the fort.

Playing his part to the full, Kydd stood and gaped vacantly until Isabella tugged angrily at him to move forward.

Two sentries ambled across. 'Oye! Isabella, para! Tenemos que registrarte a ti y la colada!'

As Isabella told her story Kydd shrank fearfully from the men, scrabbling to hide behind the donkey as the men fumbled among the onions in a perfunctory search, laughing at his clumsy consternation. 'El Coronel dice que los ingleses estan cerca y no quiere jugarsela.'

They turned to the washing baskets; Kydd started to whimper in distress at their behaviour. 'Dejadlo en paz, cabrones!' Isabella shouted, pulling them away. They complied meekly while she comforted Kydd with soothing words and firmly led him on.

At the sound of raised voices several people came into the courtyard. The cook, fat, jovial and impatient to see what they had brought, emerged from the barracks. He fingered the onions doubtfully and inspected the strings of garlic. They were apparently judged satisfactory; the donkey was unloaded and led away, and the cook promised to find a little something for the visitors after the long haul up.

Inside the cook's quarters there was nervous chatter, but Kydd's first concern was the room. To his vast relief there was a large jalousie window facing north. He looked out cautiously. It was one of many in the outer wall, whose face fell vertically from a dizzying height to the rocky flank of the mount. In the next room there was a smaller window. It would do.

He raised his eyes to the distance. Fornells was in plain sight, and shifting to the right he saw the complex of islands and bays that was Addaya. Perfect! He would not be seen while he did the observations and the signalling— it was all very possible.

Isabella brought the cook forward. 'Mr Keed, this Jose.' He shook hands, aware of a shrewd look.

'What do we do now, Mr Keed?' The door was thick and had bolts but if they were discovered in their nefarious activity there could be no exit through the window—they would be trapped.

'My spyglass.' It was covered in sacking at the bottom of a washing basket. He went to the window and settled down with a chair. To seaward there was a bright haze; this would conceal the approach of the fleet until it was about five miles offshore. He hauled out Renzi's watch: in only an hour or so there would be sudden alarm and dismay as the rumours of an English fleet took on an awful reality.

He must work fast. Methodically he quartered the country along each side of the narrow Bay of Fornells. On one side of the entrance there was a medium-sized fort and on the other a town. An army encampment was easy to see, the regularity of the tents, the glitter of equipment and even a caterpillar of men drilling. He located and traced the road away from the base: this would be the avenue for reinforcement or retreat.

Then he switched his glass to Addaya where he saw little military activity; there seemed to be nothing but small fortifications and only one concentration of soldiery. He searched for and found the connecting road. Finally, he carefully scanned the countryside round and about for any evidence of defences in depth. As far as a sharp seaman's eye could tell there was none of significance.

As he had feared, most troops appeared to be at Fornells, and would cause grievous damage to the landing. There were some at Addaya but not enough to indicate that they considered a landing there to be in prospect. Tensely, he settled down to wait.

Less than half an hour later a trumpet sounded urgently outside. Jose started and hissed at Isabella. 'They call th' soldier to arms,' she told Kydd.

Kydd lifted his glass seaward, but the bright haze lay uninterrupted in all directions. He searched in other directions, then realised it was probably Fornells signalling the approach of a hostile fleet, which he could not yet see in the haze.

Kydd waited, his glass trained out to sea, until his heart skipped a beat as the gossamer shapes of first one then several ships appeared close-hauled and standing steadily towards Fornells. The two 74s led the fleet; further