Chapter 30

 

The following day any look-outs in São Luis would have seen a large ship sailing over the horizon towards the port. Not by chance, it was coming from the north-east, the direction ships would come from Portugal. This was not unexpected as the papers we had captured showed that Maranhão was expecting a frigate from home. As it got closer they would have seen it was a seventy-four-gun ship instead of a frigate, but they would still have not been alarmed, for the vessel was flying the flag of Portugal.

I stared up at the unfamiliar green and red colours with a feeling of misgiving. We were about to embark on one of the most audacious military gambles ever and I am not a gambling man. I did win a fortune in a game of faro once at Almacks in London, but then the deck had been rigged and that was how I liked things: with the odds firmly in my favour. Even Cochrane admitted that the odds were no better than even for success, but if we won then it would be an astonishing victory. I comforted myself with the thought that if the plan unravelled in the initial stages, we should still get away. But there were so many things that could go wrong and if any of them happened while we were ashore, we were most assuredly lost.

As with Salvador, to reach São Luis we had to enter the wide mouth of a river. The city lay on the northern side of a long finger of land that had a river down either side of it. Opposite São Luis the river was still some twelve miles wide. I noted from the chart that the settlement on the other side was called Alcantara. The town in Portugal with the same name had been the scene of one of my peninsular victories. I had even been made a knight of the place as a result and I hoped that this was a good omen.

We could see a brig moving out from the harbour to intercept us and so dropped anchor some three miles from the city, deliberately out of the range of the shore batteries. The crew of the brig would provide our first test and Cochrane was determined that we would succeed.

“Right, gentlemen,” he called as hands gathered aft again after the anchor had splashed into the murky green water. “Until we reveal our true colours we are the Queen Carlotta, fresh from Lisbon. I don’t want to hear any English voices above a whisper when they get close and any shouting is to be done in Portuguese. As for our marines,” he turned to the men dressed in red, “you must go below and stay out of sight until we need you on stage for your performance.”

My men made their way to the hatch and I noticed that they got a few slaps on the back from the crew as they went. When I had first come aboard the Emperor, the marines had been held in contempt by both the Brazilian and Portuguese elements of the crew. But it was clear that at least this reduced number of them had earned some respect over recent weeks. Perhaps a few of their comrades also guessed what their next appearance might cost them in terms of reawakened memories.

By then the approaching ship was closing up on us. It was not a large brig and was probably just used for harbour patrols. It made a show of stopping smartly just a hundred yards away and dropping anchor. The crew reefed in the sails and spare hands started to shout across for news while a boat was being lowered. A sailor nearby turned to ask me what news he should give them.

“I don’t know, make something up,” I told him. “Tell them there are rumours that the queen has got the clap, the king has got a new mistress and we are all getting a rise in pay.” He grinned in delight at my suggestions and by the time their cutter was in the water, a cheer could be heard from the other ship, followed by more enquiries about the extra pay. An officer, who berated his men for the noise, climbed into the boat and was soon being rowed across. He was oblivious to the surprise that awaited him.

“I think the least we can do is pipe him aboard,” suggested Cochrane, grinning as several sailors and the bosun formed a side party at the entry port. I stood beside Cochrane, Crosbie and Grenfell and watched as a sprightly young man climbed through the gap in the gunwale to the high-pitched call of the bosun’s whistle with a folder of papers under his arm. Our visitor saluted the Portuguese flag and then stepped forward holding out his hand in greeting.

“Lieutenant Garção of His Majesty’s ship Don Miguel he announced. Only then did he falter slightly as he saw the senior officer waiting to receive him. He must have been expecting a weathered Portuguese captain, but instead before him stood a red-haired man in an admiral’s uniform. He was puzzled for a moment and then horrified as he remembered that he had heard of an admiral with red hair. His train of thought was confirmed by his involuntary glance back to the Portuguese flag, which still fluttered overhead. He returned a silent questioning gaze to the admiral, who just shrugged apologetically.

“I am sorry, Captain,” Cochrane said quietly before nodding at a boy near the flag locker. The Portuguese flag fluttered down to be replaced by a more familiar green ensign with a yellow diamond containing the crest of the Brazilian emperor. At the same time, there was a deep rumble from the wheels of the gun trucks down one side of the ship and suddenly thirty loaded cannon were pointing at the little brig.

“This is outrageous treachery,” gasped the captain.

“I know and once again I apologise for this ruse of war,” admitted Cochrane amiably. “As I hope you will understand in a few minutes, it was necessary. But in the meantime, I regret that I must insist that you call on your men to surrender. They can just strike their colours, there is no need for them to fly the emperor’s flag.”

“Have you no honour, sir?” the captain demanded. “This base deception is beneath the morals of a pirate.”

“Quite possibly,” agreed the admiral, not the least offended by the insult. He had adopted the manner of an apologetic vicar, which was most at odds with his actions and the rows of guns he had just ordered run out. “But as you will soon learn, there is very little to do with honour today. Please, sir, order you men to surrender and let us avoid any bloodshed. I will give you my word that I will release you and your men without harm and with your ship in a few hours.”

“It seems as if I have little choice,” the captain retorted primly and he went to the rail to shout the order across.

Cochrane turned to Grenfell. “Take a boat of sailors over there and make sure that they do not do anything stupid. You can reassure them that they will all be released with their captain in a short while.” As Grenfell headed off to do his bidding the admiral turned to his captive. “Now, sir, I would be grateful if you will join me in my cabin so that we can discuss the purpose of my visit. Captain Flashman, perhaps you will join us and relieve the commander of those papers.”

Crosbie looked hurt to be left out, but someone had to remain in charge on the deck of the ship. We were, after all, now flying enemy colours in the biggest Portuguese-held port remaining in Brazil. I knew that Cochrane was also leaving him behind for another reason; his face was easier to read than a penny novella. He was a card player’s dream and Cochrane’s plan relied on a monumental bluff.

By the time we had reached the great cabin, I had sifted through the documents. As they had not been expecting us there was very little of interest. There was a letter from the governor congratulating us on our safe arrival and inviting our captain to dine with him. Presumably, he also wanted to hear the news from home. But to my amusement, there was also a note from a naval attaché warning us that Cochrane and the Brazilian fleet were loose in the Atlantic, and advising us to be on our guard.

Captain Garção refused the offer of a drink and sat stiffly in a chair while he waited for the admiral to explain his actions.

Cochrane caught my eye, clearly uncertain how to begin. It was a delicate business to be sure. The slightest false move could see the plan founder. While I am no great card player, it seemed to me to be wise to try to see some of the enemy’s cards before we began to play our own hand.

“Have you heard of what happened at Salvador?” I asked.

Garção seemed surprised that it was I who opened the discussion, but he did not appear to have anything to hide. Indeed, his lip curled slightly in contempt as he answered. “We know that the usurper’s land forces have tried to cut off supplies to the city and that his navy mounted a blockade.”

“The Emperor’s navy did maintain a blockade that the much larger Portuguese navy was unable to dislodge,” retorted Cochrane sternly.

I held up my hand to avoid them descending into an argument over whether Pedro was emperor or usurper. “Have you heard what happened next?” I persisted.

Garção glanced warily between us. “To protect the loyal citizens of the city, the governor chose to evacuate it,” he admitted. “We have heard that your ships tried to chase the fleet, but as you are here, I can only assume that you were forced to give up the pursuit.”

“How do you know that? Have any of the ships made it here already?” I found I was holding my breath waiting for him to answer.

“Yes, a fast clipper arrived here five days ago, bringing some soldiers. Its captain saw your frigates trying to take prizes, but our ship was able to outrun them.” I looked at Cochrane and Garção followed my gaze. As he did so I gave the admiral an almost imperceptible nod. What Garção knew was not damaging, in fact it might even support our play.

“Then your soldiers are among the fortunate few,” said Cochrane at last. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Once more he seemed to be at a loss for what to say, but this time I suspected it was deliberate and I left him to continue. “I presume you know of my career and reputation, sir,” he started at last. “I have served as a member of the British parliament, and as an officer in her navy. I have led the navy for the government of Chile and most recently for the emperor of Brazil. You have accused me of acting dishonourably, sir, and I have done so, but it is an act of honour that brings me here today.” He took a deep breath as though what he was about to say was most unpalatable. “Your informants are correct, we did pursue your fleet and we took prizes, which we sent back to the mainland. But what they did not see were those prizes returning to the pursuit, this time loaded with the land forces of the emperor. When the Portuguese soldiers left Salvador, the emperor’s forces pillaged the now defenceless city. They found the docks with the returning prizes of your loyal citizens and I regret to say that there was considerable slaughter.”

Cochrane had been gazing at his desktop as he spoke as though unwilling to look Garção in the eye. But now he did look up to find the captain regarding him with a stony, impassive face. “Go on,” prompted the captain, correctly assuming there was more to this tale.

“Well,” said Cochrane, suddenly impassioned. “I genuinely believe that the emperor is a good and honourable man and that is why I agreed to serve him. But he has no trained soldiers. The army largely stayed loyal to your country and so he has been forced to recruit any men he can get.” He took another deep breath. “Many of them are former slaves, promised their freedom in exchange for their service. The rest are mostly poor Cariocas, embittered against the Portuguese who have ruled their land. They are little more than an armed mob intent on killing and plunder.

“Are you trying to tell me that your emperor’s men killed the women and children on the docks as well as the men?” Garção asked coldly.

“Many of them,” admitted Cochrane quietly. “Although some of the women may not have been killed immediately, as you can imagine.” He looked Garção in the eye again now as he continued. “But I am afraid that there is worse news. The men filled the captured ships and forced their crews to pursue the Portuguese fleet. There were rumours that your ships were filled with pay chests, gold, silver and all the valuables from the city. Slowly they began to overhaul the slower vessels and the slaughter continued.”

“But what about our navy?” demanded Garção. “Surely they could deal with such renegades?”

Cochrane held up his hands in partial submission. “I regret that I had driven off much of your naval force. I had no idea about the new ships coming from Salvador when I did it, but it left most of the fleet with little or no defence.”

“Then what of our troop ships? They would not have succumbed to an armed rabble.”

“They had little defence against the guns of my ships. The frigates sent cannonballs down the crowded decks and then the ships of rebels boarded, often at night.”

“But trained troops would certainly have fought them off,” the captain insisted.

“I am a soldier, sir,” I told Garção. “On a field of battle, they would certainly have had the advantage. But on a crowded ship there is no room for ordered volleys, and in hand to hand fighting a long musket is of less use than a sword or dagger.”

“We passed patches of sea that were thick with the bodies of your soldiers,” Cochrane admitted. “Even the sharks could eat no more.”

That lie might have been a step too far, for Garção sprang to his feet. “No, I do not believe you! Our soldiers would never be beaten by scum from the slums of Rio. You must take us for fools if you think we would swallow such nonsense.” He drew himself up and sneered down his nose at Cochrane. “Now if you are a man of your word, I demand that you release me and my ship.”

We had expected such an outburst and were prepared. I walked over and opened the cabin door. “Bring in the standards,” I called. A moment later a sailor walked in with two of the flags under each arm, which he laid on the floor at Garção’s feet. As that sailor moved back another came in. So it went on until all the cabin floor on Garção’s side of the desk was carpeted in silk, emblazoned with the cyphers of various regiments. As the display built up the expression of indignation on the Portuguese officer’s face had drained away to be replaced by one of horror.

“All of these regiments destroyed?” His voice was barely a whisper now.

“There may be more,” Cochrane warned softly. “These are just the flags that were gathered by my ships. But it is not just the soldiers. We who have taken the king’s coin know the risks, but the civilians have been served in a similar manner. Every one of them slaughtered apart from some women, who were carried away on their ships, and they may have been better off dead.”

Garção crossed himself and muttered some prayer at the thought of it.

“I have come here because my men and I on this ship have been sickened by what we have seen,” Cochrane continued. “We want to prevent further unnecessary bloodshed. Already more ships of freed slaves are joining the imperial fleet, there must be some two thousand men, including the crews of some of the ships. They have the arms and ammunition from your soldiers, not to mention the weapons that they were already carrying. They are little more than feral animals, sir, drunk on their new power and killing. Once they get here I have no doubt that they will seek to liberate and arm the local slaves to increase their number further. There will probably be others in São Luis, who have little and will see this as an opportunity for gain.”

Garção nodded in agreement as he considered this. “We can fortify parts of the town to fight them off,” he suggested.

“No,” countered Cochrane, “that would only delay the inevitable.” He paused and glanced at me, for this was the moment we played our hand. “My ship is more powerful than anything in the imperial fleet. None of their ships would dare challenge us. I have come on ahead to make you an offer. If you evacuate São Luis with any ships at your disposal, I will guarantee your protection and if necessary escort you out to sea so that you can safely return to Portugal.

“You mean abandon Maranhão?” asked Garção.

“If you do not,” warned Cochrane quietly, “the imperial fleet and a flotilla of commandeered prizes full of those murderous animals will come here. I won’t be able to save you then. They won’t fight an ordered battle to suit your soldiers. Instead they will get into the city to kill and loot and rape. You do not have enough men to guard all of your citizens and protect the plantations to stop them liberating and arming the slaves. You know that and so do they.” Cochrane gave a heavy sigh before adding, “Maranhão and São Luis will fall into the hands of the emperor’s forces. What you need to decide is whether hundreds of loyal Portuguese men, women and children will be butchered when it does.”

Garção looked up, startled, “I cannot decide that, I am just a naval commander.”

“No,” agreed Cochrane. “But you can tell the governor what I have told you and you can deliver these messages to the army commander and governor, guaranteeing their safe conduct out of here if they surrender unconditionally to me within the next twenty-four hours.” Cochrane handed over two sealed packets, which the young commander snatched up. He seemed relieved that the responsibility for making any decisions had been taken out of his hands. “Now,” said Cochrane, “We should let you return to your ship to pass on the information you have heard.”

The commander made to go, but I held him back a moment. “Pick any one of these standards to take back with you, to show the army commander that they are genuine.”

Garção picked up a heavily embroidered silk flag and Cochrane and I escorted him back up on deck. After the tales of blood and catastrophe we had fed him, he seemed surprised by the relatively tranquil setting. São Luis lay a few miles off, appearing as calm as could be, with a distant clang of church bells marking the passing of another peaceful day. He stared at the brown bloodstains on the flag and at the holes from musket balls and then back at the city, clearly struggling to reconcile the two. “No, I don’t believe it,” he announced suddenly and he tried to give me the regimental standard back. “Your emperor is the heir to the throne of Portugal. He would never have allowed such barbarity to happen to his father’s subjects.” He turned to the admiral, “You are known for your trickery and deceptions, sir, well you are not gulling me. This army of slaves and murderers is a phantom, for it would turn on your government as easily as it would turn on us.”

But once again, Cochrane had anticipated just this happening. “Bring up the prisoners,” he called before turning to Garção. “We found these villains on an abandoned ship. They were stupefied with drink next to a smashed wine locker. It seems that their fellows had left them behind when they sailed off.” Shouting and yelling was coming from a nearby hatchway as though someone was putting up a fight. Cochrane continued. “There must have been over two hundred dead on that ship. I know people call me the Devil, but even I have my limits. There was a savagery going on there that I could not stomach. Men, women and children, all were slaughtered in the most beastly manner. We found an old man who had been cut up badly, but who was still alive. He told us that it was an army of freed slaves who had rampaged through the ship, showing no quarter at all.”

At this, several sailors started to climb out of the hatch, holding between them a struggling black man dressed in a soldier’s red coat. “Let me go!” Mallee was yelling as a second struggling marine appeared in the hatch behind him. I’ll say this for my sergeant, he was a damn good actor. He stared around in surprise at the brig alongside and then started with alarm when he locked eyes on its Portuguese commander. “You’ll not hand me over to them,” he shouted. “My brothers will kill you all if you do.”

“You are not being handed over to them,” Cochrane replied. “As I have told you before, you will face your justice at the hands of the emperor, which I am sure will be severe when he learns what has been done in his name.”

Mallee scoffed at that and managed to twist around and raise a corner of his coat at the same time. He revealed his scarred back. “Fifty lashes,” he roared. “That is what one of you bastards gave me and I swore I would kill one of you for every stroke.” He laughed as he added, “I only have fifteen more to kill.”

Six of the marines were on the deck now, all shackled with chains around their ankles and wrists, with the sailors shoving them none to gently into a line. A couple seemed overawed by the experience, but the rest were entering into the spirit of things by following Mallee’s example. They were shouting their defiance at Cochrane, promising revenge for their capture and boasting of their kills. Several appeared to have been beaten and were limping or hobbling with their chains, while others sported wounds artistically created with goat blood.

“They claim to be from the third regiment from Rio,” said Cochrane, making sure that Garção noted that they all wore the uniform red coats of soldiers. “Take them back below,” he ordered at last, and not before time as one or two were running out of colourful insults. The sailors started to drag the marines back to the hatch as they screamed their final threats of defiance. Cochrane turned back to Garção. “Do you see now what type of villain is on his way here?”

The commander looked horror-struck by the encounter; the colour had drained from his face and his voice was barely above a whisper when he replied. “They are animals, savage, inhuman animals.” He turned to Cochrane, “How could anyone even think of giving them weapons?”

As my friend appeared stumped for an answer that would defend his beloved emperor, I stepped in. “How old are you, Commander?” I asked.

“Twenty-eight, why?”

“So you would have been around fifteen when the French besieged Lisbon. Were you in Portugal then?”

“My family fled to the south. We were hiding in the hills when the French came. What has this to do with anything?” Garção asked, puzzled.

“Well even if you did not see them, you must have heard stories of what the French did to the Portuguese and how they took their revenge. No race has a monopoly on cruelty.” I jabbed a finger in his direction before adding, “I remember once finding a French soldier who had been crucified with nails to a church door. He had been gelded too, although it was hard to say which had happened first. We found another who had been staked out with a fire set over his middle. Trust me, any man who has felt wronged and frightened can turn into a cruel bastard when the boot is on the other foot. One of those gangs of killers we found in Portugal was led by the local priest. Remember, back then your people had only suffered for a couple of years under the French, while some of those slaves have had a lifetime to build up their hatred.”

“But that was war,” he protested.

“What do you think this is?” I countered. “If your commanders decide not to take up the admiral’s offer, you will soon discover that this is very much a fight to the death too.”