"Looks like we've picked up quite an escort, doesn't it, Mr. Scull?"
Scull nodded. "Aye aye, sir!"
"It'll be quite a sight, when we fall in with them^'
Scull said, "I can't believe it, sir!"
Macgregor was talking to himself, as he looked. "The whole French fleet," he was repeating. "The whole goddamned fleet!"
Chapter 32
"THIS CAME THIS MORNING," THE MARQUIS SAID, flinging the letter down on the polished table. "Read it, sir!"
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Barney picked it up and read:
"H. M. S. Sandwich. St. Eustatious March 4
"I have received the honor of your Excellency's letters, and am sorry to find that a man of such high rank should descend so far as to use intelligences which he confesses came to him in an indirect way.
"British admirals are responsible to none but their sovereign and their country, and were never known to insult an open and declared enemy. But, perfidious people, wearing only a mask of friendship, and traitors, and rebels to their King deserve no consideration and none shall they ever meet with at my hands.
"I must again repeat to your Excellency that I can no longer permit flags of truce to pass between the King my masters islands and those of the French. This communication I am determined to prevent, and I have given orders to all my cruisers to seize and detain all flags of truce but such as General Vaughn and myself may be honoured with from you, without exception." It was signed G. B. Rodney.
Barney looked up. "This spoils your intelligence system." He couldn't help smiling.
The marquis was in no smiling mood. "That sanctimonious devil," he said, "has refused to exchange prisoners, and the French merchants on Stasia! According to him, they come under these," he tapped the letter, " 'perfidious people'! I have replied. I have replied thus," said the marquis calming down a little. He read aloud from the letter he had just finished writing.
"I am satisfied that a British Admiral ought to be responsible to his King and Country. To both, I owe reprisals; they shall be forthcoming. You have set the example and I shall pursue it." He looked up at Barney over the letter to punctuate this. He went on.
"I repeat once more that you may act as you please towards our flags of truce. To quiet your apprehensions on that score, I shall send no more. In the future the interpretations of our sentiments shall be our cannon."
"Very much to the point, m'lord," Barney said, crossing long legs.
From outside in the gardens came the sound of hammering as the construction of a dance floor under the palms went on. Six hundred
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people had been invited to a reception for the Comte de Grasse and his officers tonight. The marquis laid the letter down.
"You will miss the festivities, sir," he said. "I am sorry," he added, abstractedly. Then he went on again. "There can be no possible doubt but that Francois was caught on Stasia, and now lurks somewhere in the hills with the Americans. Mr. Ross, in his last communication,' the marquis grimaced, "supposed there to be from three to four hundred of them, but they surrender daily—starved, feverish. Rodney has arrested Curzon and Gouvernier, and sent them as prisoners of state to England, for treasonable trading with the enemy. All goods, including those of French merchants, have been confiscated; the food is even doled out to each household! When they are deported, they may take only household goods and household slaves with them! Rodney is also after the Englishmen who became Dutch burghers, to enjoy the trading air of Stasia." The marquis smiled. "All canoes have to be drawn up on the beaches before dark. Fort Oranje now boasts forty ten-pounders. Batteries are being constructed—we're not quite sure where."
"I don't wonder Rodney stopped the so-called flags of truce," Barney remarked.
The marquis said, "We must keep communications open. The situation now is that we can watch Hood, and his fleet, since they retreated to St. Lucia. We must devise means to watch Stasia. I have requested Captain Connor to attend us. He waits." The marquis crossed the floor and opened a door; Barney waited for the sight of the man who was to accompany him on his next mission.
Connor was Irish, with freckles and hazel eyes. A scar marked one cheek; adventurer and professional soldier, he commanded the marquis' garrison of some five hundred men. He wore a resplendent uniform, dark blue with red facings, with a line of white down neat trouser leg. "Captain Connor," Barney said, bowing.
"As soon as you two have said hello, we will get down to business," the marquis said, and went over to the wall and unrolled a magnificent map of the islands which covered almost one whole wall. Barney and Connor, drawn to it, moved slowly together till the three of them stood in front of it. The marquis, with a long wand in hand, looked at both of them and smiled with satisfaction.
"You are two aces I have against the British, sirs," he said, and his smile was delighted. "Now. Attendez! Here are we." The marquis loved his maps, and he loved strategy with Machiavellian fervor. He
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was enjoying himself this morning; it was with some regret he realized his correspondence with Rodney was at an end. However, the bullets would come next, as he had promised. "Here are we, and de Grasse, and twenty some ships of the line, besides my four frigates. Here is Hood. Close." He pointed to St. Lucia. "Hood is kept under surveillance at all times."
That surveillance was good, Barney knew. Good and accurate. It was going to allow him to proceed with assurance that he was not bearding Hood and the fleet at Stasia at the same time.
The marquis went on. "Here is Stasia, Saba, and St. Martin—a stone's throw from St. Kitts and Nevis. In British hands. We watch from Guadeloupe."
"One moment," Connor said. "Once we take Stasia back, we are free to include St. Kitts and Nevis in the same bundle, my lord. They go together."
"Later," said the marquis. Then he said, "You understand, I have no say—" he gestured—- "as to the doings of the fleet and le Comte de Grasse. I tell you confidentially we must do all this out here in the islands ourselves. The fleet serves as a balance wheel only."
"A big one," said Barney, and Connor nodded. "May I smoke, m'lord?" he asked, and knowing the answer would be in the affirmative, got out his pipe. He filled it abstractedly.
He said, "The damage done by the Yanks to those British regiments is going to be of great value."
"Now the regiments which General Vaughn is leaving on Stasia are the thirteenth and the fifteenth." The marquis walked over to his desk, and got out a small notebook. He opened it. "Six hundred and twenty men. Colonel Cockbume commanding. Harris, surgeon, Captains Bathe, Rigerson, Lieutenants"—he read down the list— "Mackenzie, engineering. He's good." The marquis squinted at both younger men. "Let's leave that for a moment, and look once more at the map."
Connor puffed on his pipe. Barney took his eyes from Stasia and followed the marquis' pointer. "Curasao has fallen, yesterday, but we have reason to believe it is about to be succored." He grinned. "We can count on the Dutch to retake it shortly. We cannot retake Stasia till Rodney and the fleet leave it. But we can strike a blow by removing the Americans; and we must try to establish a system by which we can learn when the convoys leave."
Barney pointed to the map of Stasia. "I propose to use Tumble-
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down Dick for the evacuation; the bay is deep, the beach shelving and sandy. At Jenkin's Bay, I can anchor within a stone's throw of what beach there is, but there is a precipitous cliff wall reaching right down into the water. On all sides. More necks would be broken than those I'd save."
Connor said, "Tumbledown Dick is best, I think, sir. For the first landing." He smiled contentedly. "The second time, Jenkin's Bay."
Barney eyed him thoughtfully. "Yes, Captain Connor."