‘Is right. They have taken it over. The little house at the back of the garden they use for questioning - farther from the street. But you can hear the shrieks from St Anna’s. Sometimes, at three or four in the morning, they carry bodies down and throw them into the harbour behind the tanneries.’
‘How many are there?’
‘Five officers now, and a guard quartered in the Alfonso barracks. A dozen men on duty at a time - the guard changes at seven. No sentries outside, no show, all very quiet and retired. Then there are a few civilians, interpreters, servants, cleaners; two of them belong to us, as I have say - said.’
Eight bells struck; the watch changed overhead. Jack glanced at the barometer - sinking, sinking.
‘Listen, Mr Maragall,’ he said. ‘I shall tell you my general course of action: be so good as to make any observations that occur to you. I have a French gunboat here, captured yesterday: I shall run her into Port Mahon, land a party say at Johnson’s Steps or Boca Chica, march up in detached groups behind St Anna’s to the garden wall, take the house as silently as possible and either return to the gunboat or behind the town to Cala Garau. The weak points are, entrance into the port, guides, alternative lines of retreat. in the first place, can you tell me whether there is any French ship in? How are French vessels received, what are the formalities, visits, moorings?’
‘This is far from my line. I am a lawyer, an advocate,’ he said, after a long pause. ‘No, there is no French ship in at present. When they come, they exchange signals off Cape Mola - but what signals? Then there is the pratique boat, for plague and health; if they have a clean bill of health it leads them to their moorings, otherwise to the quarantine reach. I believe the French moor above the customs house. The captain waits on the port-?admiral -but when? I could tell you this, all this, if I had time. My cousin is the doctor.’
‘There is no time.’
‘Yes, sir, there is time,’ said Maragall slowly. ‘But can you indeed enter the port? You rely on their not firing on French colours, on confusing signals?’
‘I shall get in.’
‘Very well. Then if now you put me ashore before light, I shall meet you in the pratique boat or tell my cousin what he must do - meet you in any case, deal with what formalities there may be and tell you what we have managed to arrange. You have said guides - certainly: other lines of retreat, yes. I must consult.’
‘You take this to be a feasible plan, I collect?’
‘Yes. To get in, yes. To get out - well, you know the harbour as well as I do. Guns, batteries all the way for four miles. It is the only plan, however, with so little time. It would be terrible to run in, and then to arouse suspicion by some little nonsense that my friends could tell you in a moment. You are unwilling to put me ashore, are you not?’
‘No sir. I am no great politician or judge of character, but my friend is: I am happy to stake my head on his choice.’
Sending for the officer of the watch he said, ‘Mr Fielding, we shall run in. To Cala Blau?’ -looking at Maragall, who nodded. ‘To Cala Blau. All sail she will bear; blue cutter to be ready at a moment’s notice.’ Fielding repeated the order and hurried out, calling ‘Watch, watch, about ship,’ before he was past the sentry. Jack listened to the running feet for a moment, and said, ‘While we stand in, let us go over the details. May I offer you some wine - a sandwich?’
‘Four bells, sir,’ said Killick, waking him. ‘Mr Simmons is in the cabin.’
‘Mr Simmons,’ said Jack in a harsh, formal voice. ‘I am taking the gunboat into Port Mahon at sunset. This is an expedition in which I shall ask none of the officers to come with me; I believe none is intimately acquainted with the town. I should like those of the launch’s crew who choose to volunteer, but it must be represented to them, that this is an expedition in which - it is an expedition of some danger. The pinnace is to remain at the cave at Cala Blau from the coming midnight until the following sunset, when, unless it receives orders, it is to rejoin the ship at the rendezvous I have marked here. The launch at Rowley’s Creek, with the same orders. They are to be victualled for a week. The frigate will stand off and on to windward of Cape Mola, having sent them in, and close with the land at dawn under French colours, remaining out of gunshot, however; I hope to join her at that time or during the course of the day. if I do not appear by six o’clock she is to proceed to the first rendezvous without loss of time; and after cruising twenty-?four hours there, to Gibraltar. Here are your orders; you will see that I have written clearly what I now repeat - there is to be no attempt whatsoever at any rescue. These orders are to he followed to the letter.’ The idea of these good, brave, hut essentially unenterprising and unimaginative men plunging about an unknown countryside, with the frigate a prey to the Spanish gunboats or the great batteries of St Philip’s or Cape Mola made him repeat these words. Then, after a slight pause and in a diffident tone, he said, ‘My dear Simmons, here are some personal papers and letters that I will trouble you with, if I may, to be sent home from Gibraltar in the event of things going amiss.’
The first lieutenant looked down, and then up again into Jack’s face; he was profoundly troubled, and he was obviously seeking for his words. Jack did not wish to hear them: this was his own affair - he was the only man aboard, apart from his followers, who knew Port Mahon backwards, above all the only one who had been in Molly Harte’s garden and her music-?room; and at this pitch of cold tension he wanted no gestures of any kind, either. He had no emotion to spare for anyone else. ‘Be so good, Mr Simmons, as to speak to the launch’s crew,’ he said with a trace of impatience. ‘Those who wish to come will be taken off duty; they must rest. And I should like a word with my coxswain. The gunboat is to come alongside; I shall go into her when I am ready. That will be all, Mr Simmons.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Simmons. He turned in the door and paused, but Jack was already busy with his preparations.
‘Killick,’ he said, ‘my sword is dull from yesterday. Take it to the armourer; I want it shaving-?sharp. And bid him look at my pistols: new flints. Bonden, there you are. You remember Mahon?’
‘Like the palm of my hand, sir.’
‘Good. We are taking the gunboat in this evening. The Doctor is in prison there, and they are torturing him. You see that book? It has their signals in it: check the gunboat’s flags and lanterns and see everything is there. If not, get it. Take your money and warm clothes: we may end up in Verdun.’
‘Aye aye, sir. Here’s Mr Simmons, sir.’
The first lieutenant reported that the entire launch’s crew had volunteered: he had taken them off duty. ‘And, sir,’ he added, ‘the officers and men will take it very unkind indeed if some of them may not come along - if you will not pick from them. I do beg you will not disappoint me and the whole gunroom, sir.’
