‘There’s only one way to find out,’ Kydd said firmly.
‘I know. That’s why I took the opportunity to send it off in a mail with Narcissus and the bullion.’
‘What? Without you have some lawyer cove draw you up a legal thing as will save you from plaguey copyists and so forth?’
‘I’ll have you know the business is too complex by half. It has to be entered at Stationer’s Hall and, um, other things, which I’m not to be expected to know, and so I’ve placed it all in the hands of Mr John Murray with instructions that he may do with it as he will in my interests.’
Kydd sat back, appalled. ‘So if he prints it, he may set his own price on the book and give you naught but a pauper’s bauble. I’m bound to say it seems to me a wry way to proceed, Nicholas.’
Renzi drew himself up. ‘Mr Murray is a gentleman. It’s done,’ he said defensively, ‘and nothing more to be said.’
There was an awkward pause, so he went on, in a different tone, ‘Then you are receiving satisfaction from Mr Serrano? A young man of some ardour it would seem.’
‘We are.’ Kydd chuckled. ‘In fact, it was his timely warning that told us of this Spanish trickery. Now, time presses, my friend, and I have to see my officers before the battle.’
Almost light-hearted, he brought them together and explained the situation. The more he spoke the better he felt; even with a warship of comparable strength present to oppose them, L’Aurore would put paid to any sally by Liniers.
‘Any questions?’
‘Sir, when will-’
Curzon never finished the sentence as clear above their talking came the urgent hail of the masthead lookout.
Sail! Kydd leaped to his feet and pounded up to the quarterdeck, fumbling for his glass, which he had up as soon as he could see the southern horizon. At first he couldn’t spot anything and began searching more carefully – until the master pointed out that the sail was actually to the north.
Puzzled, he swivelled round and focused in the other direction. In a few minutes he made out that it was a lone sail and schooner-rigged. It couldn’t be – but it was. Herrick had abandoned his place off Colonia and was heading towards them at a great clip.
Through his glass Kydd saw that the schooner’s sails were ragged with holes, and pockmarks of shot-strike showed dark against the hull. With a growing sense of dread, he waited.
‘Captain Kydd, sir?’ Herrick’s voice floated across the water, its edge of urgency clutching at Kydd’s heart.
‘Yes?’
The schooner rounded to, brailing up.
‘Sir, I’ve news! The Dons have sortied from Colonia! I did my best but so many . . .’
‘Say again!’ Kydd shouted down at the powder-stained and bandaged figure, more for time to think.
‘I have it from a prisoner that they sailed together for Las Conchas. I brought ’em to action but only winged a few. I thought it my duty to acquaint you without delay.’
Shocked to the core, Kydd felt desolation and fury. There could be only one possible explanation for what had happened: he had been utterly and comprehensively deceived. Cynically betrayed by Serrano, decoyed away from the true crossing point – and now the fate of Buenos Aires was sealed.
Chapter 13
‘You’ve just missed him, sir,’ Clinton said. ‘He’s marched out to meet the Spanish advance.’
Keyed up to explain himself to the general, Kydd searched the marine officer’s face but saw no condemnation, pity or contempt. ‘Did he leave any orders for me?’ he asked.
‘None, sir.’
Apparently when Liniers had made his crossing he had joined very quickly with Pueyrredon’s gauchos, the blandengues and others, and was now advancing on Buenos Aires.
Beresford had wanted to deal with the threat as soon as possible, and had stripped the city of most of its troops and left for the north at a rapid pace. With the number of his field guns much increased by earlier captures, with the discipline and experience of the Highlanders on the battlefield, there was every hope that, even heavily outnumbered, he could at least cause a halt in the advance and gain time for the reinforcements to arrive.
Kydd looked around. The fort was near deserted, the only men those on guard duty. ‘Then who is the garrison commander?’
Clinton grinned awkwardly. ‘I do confess it’s me, and if it’s orders you seek, then they are that I desire you tell me what happened.’
Kydd took a seat. ‘I did what I thought right at the time,’ he said defiantly, lifting his chin. ‘And I vow I’d do it again, should I have the same information as then.’
He had no need to justify himself to his junior lieutenant of marines – but he wanted to get it off his chest, and he suspected Clinton had realised this.
‘Whoever gave Serrano his false-hearted lay knew what he was about, and no time for me to send reconnaissance to verify – and it had to be a strike with all my ships. So they came up with a convincing enough tale and a likely place on the chart, and I was gulled.’
He glowered for a moment and added, with heat, ‘And that bloody dog did swear on his honour to the truth of it, may his soul roast in hell.’
‘Just so, sir,’ Clinton said, leaning forward in sympathy.
‘It’s done, and there’s nothing more to be said about it,’ Kydd concluded bitterly. ‘And who’s to say – with a bare handful of sail left to me, would we have prevailed?’
Consumed by restlessness and frustration, he stood and paced about the room. ‘There has to be something the Navy can do.’
‘There’s the Royal Blues, sir. They’re with the general now and he’s openly declared they’re worth a battalion in the field.’
Kydd didn’t answer. This was not the best use of a navy – he could think of countless devastating exploits that had changed the course of many a campaign, from bombardment with the equivalent of a regiment of artillery to daring raids by marines.
There was nothing for it – he couldn’t just sit around waiting.
‘I’m to go to the general, I believe.’
He found Beresford at the edge of the city, with his troops at rest but drenched after yet another heavy rain squall. He looked up dully, his eyes tired and bloodshot. ‘Yes, Captain?’
‘General, I came to offer my most earnest apologies for-’
‘For Liniers’s crossing? Don’t be. Do you really think you’re the first commander to be betrayed by false intelligence? No, sir. I’ve always thought it to be the mark of a leader that he makes his determination on the best evidence, acts on it and, if it goes against him, does not repine.’
Kydd felt a surge of both anguish and warmth that the man who must take the consequences of his decision had not held it against him.
‘Sir, is there any service we can perform for you? Even carronades on our smaller vessels might-’
‘Thank you, no,’ Beresford muttered. ‘Do you see there?’ He pointed ahead to where the heavily rutted stony road gave way to a puddled quagmire of red mud. ‘After that frightful rain there’s no point in trying to haul guns through that, still less the bogs beyond they’re pleased to call pasture. No, Kydd, I have my own decision to make and that as harsh as the one you faced.’
‘Sir?’
‘I will teach you something of military affairs: that all strategy fails if the gods decree that nature aligns with the enemy.
‘Consider – we defeated the Spanish and their superior cavalry numbers in the field because we deployed in line and square as needs must, and none may stand against us. In going as bad as this – aught but a wretched swampy mire – our infantry will struggle hopelessly in the mud. Not so the enemy, for horses will make light of such. Should I send my columns forward, they will find it impossible to move rapidly when necessary in order to draw up in square. My brave fellows will therefore be cut to pieces by their cavalry.’
‘You must fall back.’
‘To retreat? My duty as I see it is to play out the game to gain every hour I can for those wretched reinforcements to come. Not to mention what a regrettable effect it would have on morale – on Highlanders not accustomed to retreat and on the city, which sees us cowed by General Liniers and his host.’