Flashman and the Emperor Read online

  “It is the navy and the troop ships we want to leave,” corrected Cochrane. “If we encounter one of their transports we will certainly disarm the soldiers before we send them back. But the other merchant ships will be worth a fortune in prize money.” It was clear that our admiral had not lost sight of the monetary benefits of his command. But as he pointed at the Maria da Glória that was sailing along in our wake, it was apparent that he had not forgotten his responsibilities as the emperor’s representative either. “I have spoken to Captain Beaurepaire,” he explained. “Tomorrow he will gather up any prizes we have taken overnight and escort them back to Salvador. There he will seize the city in the name of the emperor and secure any more prizes that are sent in its direction.” He pointed at the receding enemy fleet and announced, “Now, gentlemen, I think it’s high time we got going.”

  The capture of the first Portuguese ship was something of a disappointment. It was the slow merchant, wallowing well behind the rest. We fired one gun across its bows and with unseemly haste it turned into the wind and heaved to. The Portuguese naval ships completely ignored the loss of one of their flock. Their admiral must have heard our cannon but if he looked astern, he probably thought that the merchant ship would founder anyway and was not worth saving.

  “Well, Flashman,” called out Cochrane. “It’s time to put your marines to work.” I felt a sudden tightening in the guts then, not at the prospect of immediate action, for I did not expect the merchant to put up much resistance. But our admiral’s order was a reminder of the role I was expected to play in capturing other ships in the Portuguese fleet. I suspected that they would not be nearly as accommodating as this one.

  Still, I was not taking chances, even with the first capture. I went to the cabin to pick up my Collier pistol. With that a comforting security in my right coat pocket, I continued to the marines’ quarters and selected a dozen of them to accompany me. Mallee was amongst them and I had him tidy up the rest so that at least their jackets were buttoned and their hats were on straight. Some had machetes and cutlasses tucked into their belts, but to give a more soldierly appearance I made them leave those behind. They were to come with just their muskets, carrying their bayonets in the slings on their belts. “Remember,” I warned them. “You are representatives of the emperor of Brazil and I expect you to behave like soldiers.” Several of them were grinning like schoolboys on an outing to the tuck shop. After months of being despised by some, pushed out of the way or left guarding wooden guns and canvas fortresses, they were at last to get face to face with the ‘enemy’.

  A coxswain brought the longboat alongside and led the sixteen sailors in the boarding party to it. They swarmed down into the longboat armed with cutlasses and manned the oars. Then, slightly more hesitantly down the ship’s side, came the marines. As they settled on the spare thwarts I gave the order to cast off and we were on our way.

  “We will do well to get her back to port before she sinks, sir,” grunted the coxswain as he pulled on the tiller. He pointed at the steady stream of water still coming from the merchant’s pumps and a line of green slime partly down her side. “She has been beached until recently,” he claimed. “You can see where her side rested on the mud.”

  “Well at least that should make them less likely to resist,” I agreed. The ship was certainly full of passengers. As those aboard watched us approach, I noted a line of heads stretching from stem to stern that seemed more than one deep. As we got closer, my nose confirmed what the coxswain had said about the ship having been abandoned until recently, for there was a smell of rot and decay coming from her. As we hooked onto the vessel’s chains I reached up to climb aboard and found the wooden steps spongy to the touch. I wrenched at one and a piece of wood came away in my hand, but there was enough firmer timber left to use.

  “You had better be ready to catch me if the steps give way,” I warned the coxswain as I swung myself up to be the first aboard. I stepped through the entry port to find myself standing in a small space in front of a crowd of at least two hundred people. They stood for a moment silently watching me. There were no friendly smiles here; many looked downright hostile, while other expressions ranged from fear to indignation. I took some comfort from the sound of the coxswain climbing up behind me and then called out, “Right, who is in charge of this vessel?”

  To my surprise, a middle-aged woman stepped forward. “I insist that you remove these passengers,” she demanded, pointing at part of the crowd that surrounded me. “They rushed the gangplank as we prepared to leave and have not paid for their passage. We could not wait to remove them, as the master wanted to catch up with the fleet.” At this, the passengers she was accusing started to shout that she was a liar and that they had paid. Some shoving started between the passengers, which looked set to quickly get out of hand.

  “Quiet!” I yelled. “You are all my prisoners and you are all returning to Salvador.” I had expected a new round of protests at this, but as I spoke I saw that I was losing their attention. Many were now transfixed by something over my shoulder. I turned around to see Mallee climbing up through the entry port. Judging from the expressions on the passengers’ faces, they could not have been more astonished if a bear in a dress was strolling on their deck. As I watched they started to shrink back across the planking, muttering among themselves. A man nearby pulled his wife and children behind him as though they could be attacked at any moment. At first I thought that their reaction was absurd, but then I realised that legally armed slaves must be a living nightmare for some of the plantation owners and others who had routinely abused people that they viewed as property.

  Mallee could also see the effect he was having. He stepped into the now growing space in front of the entry port to allow others to climb up after him. As he stared about, a slight grin crossed his features. Very slowly and deliberately he reached behind him for his bayonet. There were several gasps as the seventeen-inch steel blade appeared in his hand and those at the front of the throng pushed back even harder against those behind them to give the marine more space. Mallee was now grinning broadly at the effect he was having and carefully slotted the bayonet onto the end of his musket. Then he drew himself up into the closest thing to standing to attention that I had yet seen in my marines, and threw me a sharp salute.

  “Thank you, Sergeant,” I replied coolly. I knew that there were bound to be pistols and other weapons among the passengers; as they were acting as though I had just tipped a bucket of vipers on the deck, I did not need the situation escalating. It would only take one reckless act from either side to start the bloodletting, with your correspondent stuck in the middle of it. “Sergeant,” I ordered, “take the marines up to the quarterdeck and if you pass the ship’s master on the way, send him to me.” The marines started to make their away aft, away from the throng of passengers, who had now all retreated to the far side of the deck. I took the coxswain to one side and asked him to quietly go below to see how seaworthy the ship really was. Then I went in search of the master myself.

  I encountered him being frogmarched down the deck between two marines, who were obviously relishing their new authority. “How many do you have aboard?” I asked him.

  By way of reply he just shrugged. “I do not know, señor. We were the last boat to leave and there was panic on the quay. Many rushed aboard when we cast off and were jumping from the dock. We left a score of them in the water of the harbour.”

  I could easily imagine the scene as people desperate to leave ran from one ship to another searching for a berth, until there was only one left. “The men on your pumps are working hard and the ship is low in the water,” I continued. “So where were you bound?”

  “Ah, this ship was condemned months ago,” the master admitted. “But the owner saw a chance to make some money.” The man gave a wry grin before adding, “He of course has a berth on a better ship. As for our destination, it would be madness to try to follow the fleet. I was going to try to make it to San Christavao up the coast �
�� we have not heard of rebel forces there.” He paused then, perhaps wondering if he was being presumptuous that he would be allowed to continue on his way. He glanced across at the Emperor and the Maria da Glória who had both heaved to nearby and then at the receding Portuguese fleet. “We will make a poor prize, señor. There is no valuable cargo, just people, and we will never keep up with your ships.”

  It was then that I grasped just how clever Cochrane’s scheme was. For with so many passengers aboard, you would need a sizeable prize crew to avoid it being overcome in some revolt. If other ships in the Portuguese armada were similarly full of passengers, then at most we would only be able to capture half a dozen ships and still have men left to sail and fight with the Emperor the Maria da Glória. Perhaps that was what the Portuguese were counting on, accepting a few losses for the rest to get away. If they were, they were about to be disabused, for Cochrane was in a rush to be at them; as I discovered when he shouted across the sea between the ships for me to get on with cutting the mast.

  “You are cutting our masts?” queried the master, who had understood the bellow in English across the water from our admiral.

  “Just your mizzen mast,” I confirmed. “So that you have to sail before the wind and go back to Salvador.” The man just shrugged in acceptance as I led him aft to the quarterdeck where two sailors were already taking axes to the mizzen. The passengers had noticed the activity and a rising wail of protest came from them as they edged towards the scene. One woman was holding a baby up in the air and begging us to have pity. They seemed to think we were determined to leave the ship totally dis-masted to sink at sea. As I got up onto the quarterdeck, I turned and fired my pistol in the air to attract their attention. Then I explained what we were doing and why. There were still some protest, but then the situation was eased by the appearance of the coxswain. He loudly announced to all who understood him that water was coming in through the timbers faster than the pumps could remove it.

  “You will all be at the bottom of the sea by dawn tomorrow if you do not turn about now,” he shouted. Those who understood English translated for their fellows. That quietened down the mob more than a little, and we were left to get on with our work.

  I don’t know if you have ever felled a tree, but it is skilled work to hit the same point each time with an axe. Not surprisingly, sailors had little experience of forestry and they were making a poor job of it. I noticed two of the marines chuckling at their efforts and asked if they had ever chopped down a tree. It turned out that they were brothers and had cleared acres of forest for plantations in their time. In a trice, I had them on the axes. They weren’t tall men, but having removed their coats and shirts to reveal leanly muscled frames, they set to with a will. In no time at all wedges of timber were coming out of the mast as they worked in perfect unison, while the sailors set about cutting the stay ropes that held the mast to the hull and to the main mast. Fifteen minutes later with the mast half cut through, the coxswain ordered the mizzen sail raised and braced round into the breeze. With the easterly wind adding pressure while the axes continued their blows, it was only a minute more before the splintering began and the mast finally toppled over.

  With Cochrane yelling again from the flagship, I left the master to cut away the wreckage and steer the ship back on course for the shore. I was the last back down into the longboat. Before I left the merchant, I took a last look around. The passengers now had a sullen air. Some were perhaps disappointed that their escape had been thwarted, but judging from those who were nervously gazing down into the hold, more than a few were probably relieved at avoiding shipwreck.

  As soon as we were back aboard the Emperor, Cochrane was crowding on sail to continue the pursuit. There was no order to the Portuguese fleet and they continued to spread out due to their different speeds and sailing abilities. In no time at all we were up with those straggling at the rear and the boats were launched once more. I took possession of another ship of passengers and while that vessel was not sinking, things were much as before. Any initial resistance was quelled by the sight of my marines, who once again guarded the quarterdeck with bayonets fixed. With the cannon from the Emperor still nearby as an unspoken threat, we encountered little objection as once more axes were swung and another mast toppled into the sea. Crosbie took a second boat with sailors and marines to a further vessel while the Maria da Glória took care of a third. By dusk four ships missing a mast, were making their way back to Salvador.

  Still the Portuguese admiral showed no sign of responding. He had all his naval vessels and the fastest merchant and transport ships at the front of the convoy. He pressed on, seemingly content to let the Brazilians take the slowest ships as prizes. Cochrane was, if anything, exasperated by the reaction, even though it made our lives much easier.

  “The spineless coward,” he fumed. “Their admiral must have promised these ships his protection and then he flees at the first sight of us, and we are only two ships against his whole fleet.”

  Cochrane was torn between wanting to continue the pursuit and waiting so that the rest of his ships could find him. In the end, as the sun went down that evening, he reluctantly decided to stay within sight of the coast. He watched, frustrated, as the Portuguese vanguard disappeared over the horizon. There was no rest to be had the next morning as all officers and men were called to their stations just before dawn. Cochrane had a sharp-eyed look-out posted to the masthead. Then he stood at the stern rail with his glass pointed in the direction of Morro de São Paulo, muttering impatiently as the light slowly spread there from the east. He was rewarded as first one set of sails appeared and then a second and, to our surprise, a third, all hauling in our direction. They were our frigates, the Carolina and the Nitherohy, with the unexpected addition of the Colonel Allen, the brig that had brought us from Chile.

  Notwithstanding the fact that we still only had five vessels against thirteen warships and innumerable armed merchants, Cochrane slammed his fist into the palm of his other hand with delight. “Now we have them, lads!” he called. “It’s time to go to war.”

  Chapter 23

  We had overhauled the rear of the Portuguese fleet again by noon on the day that the other Brazilian ships joined us, the third of May. By then the faster frigates had caught up with the Emperor and the Colonel Allen was not that far behind either. It was not a good day for the Portuguese, as ship after ship surrendered at our approach. Many did not even wait for us to fire across their bows. Faced with the overwhelming firepower of a seventy-four-gun flagship and three fast vessels, they bowed to the inevitable and turned into the wind to heave to.

  There were so many that we changed our approach; instead of chopping down masts, ships were ordered to sail and form up behind the Colonel Allen, which soon had a growing flock of vessels in its wake. The Maria da Glória, Nitherohy and Carolina darted out like barracuda to chase down their slower prey and ensure that none of the captured ships were tempted to make a run for freedom.

  I boarded two of the vessels myself, both of them merchants and full of passengers. Furious citizens of Salvador might be a more accurate description of the cargo, but they were not angry with us, more with the Portuguese navy that had so singularly abandoned them to their fate. By the end of the day we had fifteen ships under guard. As I returned from the last capture, I expected to find Cochrane jubilant at our success. But instead he was once more pacing the deck, lost in thought.

  “It is a veritable haul,” I said, pointing at the vessels gathering around the Colonel Allen. “Those ships will be worth a fortune in prize money, yet I find you with a face like a slapped arse. What’s going on?”

  “That is just it, Thomas, I don’t know.” He indicated the distant horizon where the front of the Portuguese fleet could once more be seen after we had gained on it for most of the day. “Look, they can see what we are doing and yet they do nothing to stop us. Most of the merchant ships had cargos bound for Lisbon. I had thought at first that it was Portugal where most of the
fleet was bound, but not any more. They have sacrificed nearly all of the brigs that were full of civilians and now the Maria da Glória and Nitherohy have both captured merchant ships full of valuable timber. They are letting us capture anything to slow us down, so that the transport ships at the front of the convoy can get away.”

  “They are bound to want to protect their soldiers,” I pointed out. “A broadside from the Emperor through a packed troop transport would cause terrible casualties to the men inside.”

  “Yes, but it’s more than that,” persisted Cochrane. “I don’t think that they are abandoning Bahia and returning those troops to Portugal. I think that they plan to shake us off and then land the soldiers further up the coast to consolidate their hold and then perhaps launch an attack to retake the province.”

  “But where would they go?” I challenged, though I then remembered something. “The captain of the first ship we took talked of going to São Cristóvão. Could the whole fleet be headed there, do you think?” Cochrane looked at me intently for a moment then beckoned for me to follow him. We went below to find San Christavao on the chart. It had a sizeable river mouth anchorage that would shelter a large fleet. There were no notes of fortifications on the map, but we knew that the army had artillery with them.

  However, Cochrane was not convinced. “There are dozens of river mouths and coves along the coast and those are just the ones that have been marked on the chart. There are probably twice that number that have not been recorded on stretches of shoreline that have not been properly mapped. The only way we will know for sure is by getting close to the front of the fleet and following them to see where they go.

  “But what about the prizes?” I asked. Crosbie and I had been calculating our share of the prize money, which ran into thousands of guineas, especially if we kept capturing ships.