Tenacious

It was apparent that any military component of the Spanish group was conspicuous only by its absence. The florid garments and general demeanour of the leading members seemed more municipal than statesmanlike as they nervously approached. 'Tell 'em that's far enough,' Paget told an aide.

'Ni un paso mas!' The group stopped, but a man stepped forward uneasily with an old-fashioned frilly tricorne in his hands. Words were spoken and the man regarded Paget with a look that was half truculent, half pleading.

'Sir, this is Antonio Andreu, alcalde of the councillors of Mahon. He wishes you a good day.'

'Dammit! Tell him who I am, and say I'm expecting three more battalions to arrive by the other road presently.'

'He desires to know if there is produce of the land that perhaps he can offer, that you have come such a long way—red wine, olives, some oranges.'

'Also tell him that our siege train arrives by sea tonight, and before dawn Mahon will be held within a ring of iron standing ready to pound his town to dust and rubble.'

'Mr Andreu mentions that Minorca is famed for its shoes and leather harnesses, which we English will have remembered from the past—I believe he is talking about our last occupation, sir.'

'What does the man want, for God's sake? Ask him!'

'Sir,' said the lieutenant, very carefully, 'on behalf of the citizens of Port Mahon he wishes to surrender.'

'He what?' Paget choked.

Andreu's face was pale. He spoke briefly, then handed up a polished box. 'He offers up the keys to Mahon, sir, but deeply regrets that he is not certain of the ceremonial form of a capitulation and apologises profoundly for any unintended slight.'

Taking a deep breath, Paget turned to his adjutant. 'I can't take a surrender from a parcel o' tradesmen.'

'Sir, it might be considered churlish to refuse.'

'They haven't even got a flag we can haul down. There are forms an' conventions, dammit.'

'An expression of submission on their part, sir? Purely for form's sake ...'

'Tell 'em—tell 'em this minute they're to give three hearty hurrahs for King George.'

'They say, sir—er, they say ...'

'And what do they say, sir?'

'And then may they go home?'

At the head of his seamen Kydd moved through the town. They padded down to the waterfront, past gaping women leaning from windows and curious knots of townsfolk at street corners. Most were silent but some dared cheers at the sight of the English sailors.

The dockyard was deserted: there was a brig under construction but little other shipping. That left only the boom, set across the harbour further along. Helpful townsfolk pointed it out, then found them the capstans to operate it.

There was little else that Kydd could think to do. It was a magnificent harbour with its unusual deep cleft of water between the heights where the main town appeared to be. It was long and spacious, its entrance flanked by forts. Out to sea were the men-o'-war of the Royal Navy.

Once more the two frigates put about and beat upwind outside the harbour. The Spanish flag flew high over the forts that made the harbour impregnable to external threat. The army was going to have a hard time when it came to the siege.

'Boat putting off—flag o' truce, sir.'

The captain of HMS Aurora held up his hand to acknowledge. It was a rare sight, as the blockade around Minorca was as tight as could possibly be. Still, the diversion from duty would be welcome. 'Heave to, if you please.'

Under sail out in the open sea the boat made heavy weather of it but came on stubbornly in sheets of spray. As it neared he could see only a few figures in it. It was one of the straight-stemmed Minorcan llauds that he had seen fishing here. The boat rounded to, the soaring lateen sail brailed up expertly as it came lightly to leeward.

'Aurora, ahoy! Permission t' come aboard!' hailed the deep-tanned figure at the tiller in a quarterdeck bellow, to the great surprise of the frigate's company agreeably passing time in watching the exchange.

'One to come aboard, Bosun.'

The boat nuzzled gently against the ship's side and the figure sprang neatly for the side-ropes and pulled himself aboard, correctly doffing his hat first to the quarterdeck and then to the captain.

He was a striking character. Strong in the frame and attractively open in the face, he was nevertheless in a wildly inappropriate mix of English army and navy uniform—a Spanish ruse? 'L'tenant Kydd, sir. Late o' the Port Mahon naval detachment t' Colonel Paget.' His English was faultless if individual.

'What may we do for you, Lieutenant?' the captain of Aurora said carefully.

'Sir, Colonel Paget desires y' should not fire on th' Spaniards on any account, but that ye proceed into harbour without delay.'

'I see. I should sail my frigate under the guns of the fortress yonder, and forget the presence of the boom across to the Lazareto?'

'Oh, pay no mind t' the boom, sir. We've just triced it in this hour.'

'Are you not forgetting something, Lieutenant?'

'Sir?'