chapter 58

Old Friends

That evening at the palace, King John VI and Queen Carlota Joaquina were in the brightly lit entrance hall, greeting their guests: the wealthy and influential of Rio, along with those other lucky few who had managed to secure an invitation to the reception. The waiting line ran from the entrance to the bottom of the marble steps fronting the palace, where ornate carriages continued to deposit passengers. The music from the orchestra wafted through the open windows to welcome the arrivals. This final soiree of the royals before they departed for Portugal was not an event to be missed. Soldiers at the foot of the steps relieved the invitees of any weapons before allowing them to enter the queue.

Nate was still in the anteroom when the Brit entered.

William said, “Are you sure you won’t be joining me in England?”

“Not this time, Gunn, I’ll take my chances on returning to the States.”

They could vaguely hear the names of the guests being announced outside.

William said, “Time to join the party.”

The reception was held in the palace ballroom, a vast sparkling white room with a vaulted, decorative ceiling. Well-lit by countless candles, the spacious area was filled with the intoxicating scent of jasmine drifting in through the oversized windows facing the garden.

A man in the dress uniform of a British naval officer threaded his way through the guests, his head visible above the crowd. He touched William’s elbow.

“Captain Acton!” William said.

Darius Acton took the British officer’s hand and shook it warmly. “Being unsure of your status here, Mr. Gunn, I believe a handshake instead of a salute is the best choice.”

“Considering this crowd, you choose wisely,” William said. Recalling Acton’s cold demeanor on their parting in Barranquilla, William was surprised by his warm greeting. “I must say, I’m most delighted to see you again, Captain. I hope you arrived in that fast brig of yours to whisk me back to England?”

Darius Acton glanced at Nate and hesitated to answer.

William steered Acton and Bidwell to a relatively quiet corner of the room.

“My apologies, Captain,” William said, “this is Nathanial Bidwell, my very experienced American guide.” Turning to Nate, William said, “Two years ago, Captain Acton was kind enough to drop me off in Barranquilla.”

Nate shook Acton’s hand. “You weren’t doing him any favors,” the American quipped.

Captain Acton grinned and relaxed somewhat. He said to William, “It’s a miracle you managed to survive the Amazon.”

“It’s safe to say I wouldn’t be standing here without his help,” William said, indicating Nate. “But how is it you’ve come to Rio, and at this time?” he asked Acton.

“I had secret orders to transport the royals to Portugal posthaste. Our disguise as a merchantman would allay the suspicions of even the most curious. Then one of our coastal mail packets in Belém picked up a Portuguese trader out of Manaus. He told a strange tale of two skeletal white men upriver, one with a strange accent claiming to be a British officer. I figured it could only be you.”

A Brazilian officer interrupted and offered his apologies. He detached Captain Acton and led him away to meet a group of men on the other side of the reception.

Under his breath William exclaimed, “Son of a bitch!”

“What?” Nate asked.

“Abel Veeborlay.”

“Bless my soul,” the Dutchman said, “if it’s not Captain Gunn, of all the people I never expected.” The perspiring, overweight businessman pasted on a broad smile. He approached the men with one hand extended, the other holding a hat.

“Stow it, Dutch,” William scoffed. “Do you think I’ve forgotten about Marquez? That murdering bastard tried to kill me twice.”

“A fanatical papist in the direct employ of the Catholic monarchs of Spain, whom I have absolutely nothing to do with. An honest to goodness son of a bitch, I agree. I am truly sorry you had to cross paths with him.”

Veeborlay looked hard at the rangy young man next to the British captain. The Dutchman stuck out his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Mr. Yankee, is it? Or Bidwell? I get easily confused in my old age.”

“Best clear up that confusion if you want to get any older.” Nate smiled coldly and didn’t extend his hand.

Abel Veeborlay was no fool and knew not to trifle with these men. “My apologies, Mr. Bidwell, that was uncalled for.” He extended his arms as if to encompass them in a distant embrace. “You should know I’m a great admirer of you both. There was rumor some time ago an American went missing in the Muzo area, a Nathanial Yankee. And no word from you, Captain Gunn, since descending into the abominable Amazon. Yet here you both appear, healthy, and in the thick of things, so to speak.”

William asked casually, “What brings you to Rio?”

“There’s no need for any drama, gentlemen,” Veeborlay said, “my plans are no great secret. I wanted to meet the king, and there’s been speculation he may leave for Portugal.”

William looked around. The room was becoming quite full. Their conversation could easily be overheard. He looped his arm through Veeborlay’s and pulled him closer. He said, “Something, or things, managed to drag you out of New Granada. We’re going for a short stroll, and you’re coming along. You’re going to tell me everything I want to know, Dutch.”

The Dutchman tried to disengage. “I’m afraid I really must protest, Captain, I have people to meet—” A sharp jab cut him short. Nate had positioned himself to hide the object he held firmly to the Dutchman’s side. Veeborlay’s normally amiable expression took on a definite air of distress.

They walked Veeborlay toward the balcony. Once outside on the empty veranda, William closed the doors behind them. “Is it part of your job description to oust our British merchants from Brazil? Going to revive the Dutch East India Company all on your own?”

Veeborlay shrugged. “How could I refuse to serve the company after you dispatched their only man in South America almost two years ago? Their best agent, I might add.” The sharp object dug deeper. The first prickle of panic ran along his spine. He replied softly, “My good Captain, did I not provide you with excellent information when you needed it, and good companions? And,” he added desperately, “had I not restrained Lieutenant Rodriquez, you and your men would either be at the bottom of the Magdalena or stuck in a Barranquilla jail.”

“What have you offered King John?” William asked.

“The company extended substantial aid to the king in his upcoming struggle in Portugal, in exchange for favorable treaty conditions. But I strongly suspect the king knows it’s an empty offer. The company simply doesn’t have the resources—not yet, anyway.”

He let them digest that before saying, “I’ll be sailing back to Europe to report, then I’ll return to South America. You’ll be pleased to know one of my reports will be to Whitehall.”

“It looks like you’re playing everyone this time,” William said brightly. “You should be able to retire, Abel, if this gamble works out for you.”

Veeborlay stiffened. “Why does anyone come to the Americas from Europe if it is not to steal what they have and bring it home.” The Dutchman stuck out his jaw. “I may be a pirate, but so are all who sail these shores. Take the knife out from between your teeth before you look to take a sanctimonious tone with me, plant hunter.”

Nate tightened his grip on Veeborlay’s arm. He caught William’s eye. “This isn’t a cavalry charge or a pistol duel.” William nodded and Nate pulled the Dutchman to the side. “Would your itinerary include a stop in Spain first? Think carefully before you answer.”

Veeborlay saw the hard look in the American’s eyes. This man was capable of anything. Veeborlay’s shoulders slumped. He nodded.

“Where are you meeting the Spaniard?”

“Is that all you want to know?” Dutch didn’t hesitate to answer, his life was worth more than any fanatical papist. “On the ship.”

“Which ship?”

“The Dutch ship Prins Willim II bound for Cádiz.”

“When does he board?” The hand tightened around his arm. “If I don’t like what I hear the next time you open your mouth . . .” The blade pinched. “Quick!”

“No need for the dramatics, please,” he gasped. “He’ll board late, when it’s quiet and he won’t be observed. Just before departure. He’ll go aboard then.”

“When’s departure?”

“On the late tide, tonight.”

“Not a word, Dutchman,” Nate threatened, “to the Spaniard or anyone else. Or you’re dead.”

William bent toward him. He said softly, “Abel Veeborlay, if you wish to partly make amends, keep your British stipend, and not have to worry about how or when I will even the score, I would have you do something.”

The businessman eyed the British officer with great respect tinged with an element of fear. He said nervously, “If it is in my power.”

William placed something in his hand. “Give these to the Sheridans, and tell them I am truly sorry.”

“Consider it done. On my return to Barranquilla.”

William opened one of the doors. With the relieved Dutchman gone, the weapon had disappeared under Nate’s jacket.

William looked at him with raised eyebrows.

Nate reached into his jacket and held up the object which had encouraged the Dutchman. It was the sharp end of a stiff quill pen. He shrugged and smiled. “Closest thing I could find,” he said, and tossed it off the balcony.

“I’ll be seeing you, Gunn. There’s a score that I need to go settle.”