Odyssey - 37. Chapter 37

December 1797

His Britannic Majesty’s frigate Santa Clarita sailed north toward Guayaquil, slicing through the water at eight knots with the wind off her larboard quarter. Francis Calvert paced the quarterdeck of his ship, smiling as he reveled in her speed. He’d been nervous before Santa Clarita had been refitted because she’d been as slow as an old cow, and about as maneuverable as one. But now that her hull was shed of its years of weed growth, she was sailing just as a frigate should sail. Calvert pondered that while Santa Clarita would never match Bacchante or Belvidera in speed, she could probably keep up with British frigates that were older and shorter.

“Good morning, sir,” Gatling said, interrupting Calvert’s walk. He’d just relieved Fitzwilliam on his watch.

“Good morning,” Calvert said somewhat curtly, annoyed at having been interrupted. “Carry on.” Gatling saluted, and then strode to the binnacle to leave Calvert alone. Calvert wasn’t a dour captain, but when he was walking, pacing his deck, he didn’t like to be interrupted. He paced for a bit longer, then glanced over at Gatling and felt his irritation with the young man return. “Mr. Gatling!”

“Sir?” he asked as approached Calvert.

“Walk with me,” Calvert ordered.

“With pleasure, sir,” Gatling said. He was cute and charming; it was hard to stay angry with him. He matched his pace to Calvert’s.

“I want to discuss the incident at dinner,” Calvert said. Gatling swallowed hard, knowing what was coming, knowing that Calvert was referring to their dinner with Granger. “It is wholly inappropriate of you to offer ideas and suggestions to Lord Granger without discussing them with me first.”

“Yes, sir,” Gatling said. “I’m terribly sorry, sir. That was a mistake on my part, and I promise you it won’t happen again.”

Calvert eyed him carefully as they pivoted inward, facing each other briefly, and could see the sincerity in his eyes. “The chain of command is very important.”

“Yes, sir,” Gatling said, and Calvert could feel the agony in his response. Gatling clearly was upset at disappointing him, something Calvert understood all too well.

“Sail ho!” cried the lookout. “Fine off the starboard bow!” Sighting a sail was always exciting, but Calvert also saw the relief on Gatling’s face, relief at having their unpleasant conversation truncated.

“I will be aloft, Mr. Gatling,” Calvert said, then grabbed his glass and climbed up to the foretop. “And what do we have here Miller?” he asked the lookout.

“I’m not sure, sir, but she’s definitely a ship.” Miller meant that she wasn’t a small boat, and a glance at the sail suggested that she was a square-rigged ship as well.

“Alter course one point to starboard,” Calvert shouted to the deck, wanting to get closer to this vessel. Any ship they sighted was bound to be an enemy, and most likely a merchant of sorts, since they’d captured or destroyed all of the major Spanish warships in the eastern Pacific. Calvert sat atop his perch, gauging the force of the sails. If he set the royals, they’d be more visible, and it would further strain their already patched together rigging. “Doesn’t look like she’s seen us,” he observed to Miller.

“Hasn’t altered her course, sir,” Miller confirmed.

To Calvert, it seemed as if they were barely gaining on her, but that was just his perception, warped by the excitement of sighting this ship. In reality, Santa Clarita was quickly closing on her unsuspecting prey. They were close enough to get a clear picture of the ship. She was small but stout, probably about 500 tons; a ship built to carry cargo along the coast. “Sir,” Miller said, getting his attention. “She’s altering course.”

Calvert watched as the ship turned toward the land, but she was too far out to sea to reach it in time, and even if she did, there were no fortifications to protect her. “Keep me informed,” Calvert said. He slid to the deck with the agility of a midshipman.

“What are we chasing, sir?” Robey asked. The excitement had brought all the officers up on deck.

“It appears to be a merchant ship of sorts.” They could see her from the deck now, as Santa Clarita charged in after her.

“Shall we clear for action, sir?” Kellogg asked. He was quite cautious, too much so. Granger had given him the two biggest old ladies on Bacchante: Broom and Kellogg. At first, Calvert thought Granger had done that because he was trying to make sure Calvert wasn’t too careless, but that wasn’t like Granger. He ultimately decided that Granger had gotten rid of them because they annoyed him. Only now they were his problem.

“When we get within range, we’ll send the hands to quarters,” Calvert said. There was no reason to cause a total upheaval of the ship for a merchant ship. She was too small to carry any appreciable armament, and they’d be able to identify any belligerent moves well before she could make them. Santa Clarita continued to close on the ship, until they’d gotten to within long cannon shot. “Mr. Scropes, run up our colors,” Calvert ordered. “Mr. Fitzwilliam, place a shot across her bow.”

“Aye aye sir,” they said. The union flag soared up Santa Clarita’s flagstaff, and Calvert could see the consternation on the faces of the Spanish ship’s officers through his glass. The bowchaser went off, tossing a ball neatly across the front of the merchant, and after only a minute’s delay, she hoisted Spanish colors, then hauled them down again.

“Mr. Gatling, take a strong boarding party and secure our prize,” Calvert ordered. He watched as Gatling followed his men into the boat, and watched as the boat rowed over to their prize. Calvert had chided Granger for taking the lead on activities such as this, and encouraged him to let his officers take charge of expeditions, but he understood now how Granger had felt. He stood there on his deck, his curiosity unsatisfied, full of anxiety over the fate of Gatling and his boarding party.

But nothing appeared amiss. Gatling interviewed the Spanish captain and sent him into the boat, and then he interviewed some of the sailors. He went below, and then came back on deck, smiling so broadly Calvert could see his grin through the glass. He boarded the boat and it rowed back to Santa Clarita, while Calvert forced himself to keep his impatience under control. In no time at all, Gatling was here on the deck, still grinning. “Well?” Calvert asked.

“Sir, that is the San Lorenzo. She carries cargo between Callao and Acapulco. She is loaded with silver,” Gatling said.

“Silver?” Calvert asked, barely believing their luck.

“The captain admitted that they had 200,000 reals on board, sir,” Gatling said. Now they were all grinning. 200,000 reals was a fortune, worth about 60,000 pounds. Calvert had been lucky enough with prize money, but never as lucky as Granger. Until now.

“How many men in her crew?” Calvert asked.

“Ten men, including the captain, sir.” Calvert’s mind began to whirl as he thought of his other mission, to acquire naval stores. A plan began to hatch, and then formulated itself in no time.

“We will transfer the silver to Santa Clarita. Mr. Kellogg, you must rig a secured locker to store it below,” Calvert said, spurring them into action.

“Aye aye sir,” Kellogg chirped, and went below to build a vault. And so they labored for the rest of the day, out of sight of land, transferring their precious cargo from the small merchant galleon to Santa Clarita. Once that was done, they resumed course for Guayaquil.

“Guess we shouldn’t have made that deal with His Lordship, sir,” Robey said, trying to be funny.

Calvert glared at him. “I made the arrangement, and we will be sticking to our end of the bargain.”

“Of course, sir,” Robey said, abashed.

Granger looked through his glass at Callao, at the shipping there that seemed to be lifeless. Since his arrival off the coast, none of the ships in port had moved, and there did not even appear to be much activity between those ships and the shore. It was as if his presence had completely frozen the port in time. “Mr. Eastwyck,” Granger called. He was the officer on watch.

“My lord?”

“Do you notice anything different about the port today?”

Eastwyck carefully scanned the port with his glass, worried that something had changed, and that Granger was trying to trick him. “No, my lord. It appears the same as yesterday,” he finally said.

“As it does to me,” Granger said affably. “Thank you.”

“Of course, my lord,” Eastwyck said with his trademark grin.

Humphreys arrived and came over to greet Granger. “There does not appear to be any change in the port today,” Granger told him.

“We’ve been here for over a week, my lord,” Humphreys said, surprised. “You’d think they’d at least try to sneak a ship out.”

“I think they are evaluating their options,” Granger mused. “The fishermen we spoke to a few days ago said that the galleon was ready to sail but for our arrival. I informed them that we’d sunk the San Augustin, so that must have dashed the Viceroy’s hopes for an easy end to our blockade.”

“Do you think they’re waiting for reinforcements, my lord?” Humphreys asked.

Granger shook his head. “For Spain to replace her ships here, she’ll need to fit out and man them for an extended voyage. I suspect they’ll be lucky if they have any appreciable naval assets here within the next six months and probably closer to a year.” The ramshackle Spanish Navy was hard pressed to sail from Cartagena to Cadiz, much less send a ship of the line and one or two frigates off halfway around the world.

“Deck there!” cried the lookout. “Boat’s heading out of the harbor. Looks to be a cutter.”

The officers on the quarterdeck grabbed their glasses and focused on the little ship that was sailing out of the harbor. “Shall we move to intercept her, my lord?” Humphreys asked.

Granger studied her carefully, and noted what no one else seemed to have seen: the white flag flying over the yellow and gold of Spain. “No, she is coming to intercept us. Heave to, Mr. Humphreys. Mr. Kingsdale, hoist a parley flag over our colors.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” both men said, acknowledging his orders. They watched the cutter approach them until she was half a cable’s length away, and then she lowered a small boat to send her party over to Bacchante. Granger scanned the boat with his glass quickly and saw a man with a colonel’s uniform, but did not stare long enough to identify him. To stare at the man through a glass seemed to smack of impoliteness.

The boat hooked on and the colonel pulled himself up onto Bacchante’s deck, saluting the quarterdeck even as the bosun’s whistles finished their shrill calls. Granger smiled at this man whom he’d met once before. “Colonel Avila. What a pleasure to see you again,” he said affably in French as he went forward to greet the Spaniard.

“It is a pleasure to see you as well, Captain Granger. Or should I say ‘my lord’. You are much more exalted since we last met, and you command a much larger vessel.” The last time he had encountered Avila was at Tenerife. That was when Spain had been an ally, and Granger had arrived to find a Spanish and French frigate fighting a pitched battle. Granger had been commanding the Intrepid, and he’d positioned his sloop off the Frenchman’s quarter and bombarded her until she’d broken off the action. She ultimately exploded, causing so much damage to the Spanish frigate that most of her men and her cargo of gold had to be transferred to Intrepid. Saving the Spanish gold from the sinking Spanish frigate and delivering it to the Spaniards in Tenerife had been the act that had won him the Order of Carlos III, and the appreciation of His Most Catholic Majesty.

Granger laughed in a friendly way. “I have been lucky. I am wondering if you remember Lieutenant Humphreys, who was aboard Intrepid when we last met?”

“Of course,” Avila said, and exchanged greetings with Humphreys.

“Won’t you come below and join me for some refreshments?” Granger asked. He led Avila below to his cabin and gestured for him to have a seat while he poured them both a glass of wine.

“You are probably wondering what has possessed me to risk braving the seas to come call on you,” Avila said.

“I assumed that my charming company was lure enough,” Granger joked.

“It most certainly is, but I have an additional reason,” Avila said. “His Excellency the Viceroy has asked me to extend an invitation for you to dine with him this afternoon.”

Granger stared at Avila, his expression calm and unruffled in complete contrast to his internal feelings. “I am honored by the invitation, but it is most unusual in a time of war.”

“Perhaps,” Avila said. “But your reputation has preceded you into our ocean, and your exploits here have already enhanced your standing to such a degree that it would seem to be an incredible oversight not to have you meet His Excellency.” Avila pulled out a letter and handed it to Granger. It was an invitation from the Viceroy, guaranteeing that he would be returned unharmed to his ship. Granger pondered his options. It was possible that the Spaniards would capture him and throw him in the dungeon, but this letter from the Viceroy made that possibility remote. To invite him for dinner, then arrest him, was a very dishonorable act. The Viceroy of Peru was Ambrosio O’Higgins, who was born an Irishman but immigrated to Spain. He’d been in South America for almost fifty years, and prior to his appointment as Viceroy, he had been the Governor of Chile. O’Higgins had reached the rank of Major General in the Spanish Army, and had been awarded the title of First Marquis of Osorno. He could not imagine that a man who had worked so hard to rise to such a prominent position in the Spanish colonial administration would sacrifice his honor just to capture Granger.

“Colonel, it would be my pleasure to meet with His Excellency. Perhaps you can give me a few minutes to meet with my officers and prepare to leave?”

Avila smiled broadly. “But of course.” Granger led him back up to the quarterdeck, and then withdrew to his cabin with Winkler, Somers, and Humphreys.

“I am bidden to dine with His Excellency the Viceroy this afternoon,” Granger announced. He turned to Winkler. “I’ll need to put on my best uniform while I talk to these gentlemen.” Winkler scurried off to get his things together.

“Is that wise, my lord?” Humphreys asked. “What if they capture you instead?”

“I think that is highly unlikely. I have an invitation from the Viceroy himself, guaranteeing my safety. It was delivered by Colonel Avila, a man we both know and can trust.” Winkler returned to his cabin and began to help Granger dress.

“The Dons probably want to find out how long you’re planning to lurk about outside their port, my lord,” Somers noted.

“I will have to leave their curiosity on that topic unfulfilled,” Granger said with a smile, then became serious. “You gentlemen will keep Bacchante here, even if I am captured, until Captain Calvert returns. If he does not return within two weeks, you must sail to Amboyna to complete our mission. And if Captain Calvert does not return, as before, Lieutenant Humphreys will be in command of Bacchante but Captain Somers will be in charge of our mission.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” they both said. Then, recognizing they’d been dismissed, they left Granger to complete changing into his best uniform. He returned to the quarterdeck to find Avila waiting for him.

“I am ready to leave, Colonel,” Granger announced.

Avila preceded Granger into the boat for the quick trip to the cutter. Granger noted it was crewed by men who appeared to be natives. He exchanged a greeting with the captain of the cutter, and then moved over to the rail with Avila.

“I see that you are still guarding His Most Catholic Majesty’s precious metals,” Granger teased Avila.

Avila laughed. “I fear that my mere presence will alert you to the fact that there must be treasure nearby.” Avila occupied the rest of their voyage by pointing out things of interest in Callao. He made no reference to the massive galleon that seemed to dominate the port, as if it were not even there. Once they embarked in Callao, a beautiful carriage took them down a very good road to Lima. They arrived at the Viceregal palace, an imposing building, to be sure. There, Granger was met by an honor guard of Spanish troops as he was led through the courtyard and into the main building. The furnishings and trappings of the building were such that this could very well be a royal palace.

Another man appeared who must be some sort of chamberlain, to guide them into the presence of the Viceroy. Granger entered a large room with an ornate dais and an ornate throne, and as he did, he heard his own name and titles rattled off. He felt as if he’d arrived at St. James Palace. The Viceroy was an old man but he rose to greet Granger, the polite gesture Granger had been forced to insist on in Rio. Granger bowed back politely.

“Lord Granger, I must thank you for accepting my invitation to call on me,” the Viceroy said, in French. Granger knew he was 77 years old, but he looked spry enough, and certainly seemed alert. He descended from his dais to personally greet Granger, a singular mark of respect.

“I am pleased to make Your Excellency’s acquaintance,” Granger said smoothly. “Your reputation and standing has made our meeting truly an honor.”

“Allow me to present my staff,” the Viceroy said, and introduced Granger to three other men, all of whom appeared to be adjutants of some sort or another. Granger greeted them courteously, although one man, who appeared to be in his early 40’s, was civil at best. “And I understand that you already know Colonel Avila.”

“Yes, Your Excellency,” Granger said. “I had the honor to meet Colonel Avila outside Tenerife.”

“Ah yes,” the Viceroy said. “That was the action that resulted in the granting of the Order of Carlos III to you.”

“Your Excellency is truly well-informed,” Granger said.

“Your reputation precedes you, and I fear that you have done nothing but further enhance it since you arrived in the Pacific,” the Viceroy said with a playful tone.

“I am sorry if by doing so I have inconvenienced Your Excellency, although I fear that since our two countries are at war, that is part of my job,” Granger replied, getting a smile from O’Higgins.

“Perhaps,” the Viceroy said mysteriously. “I believe dinner is ready. I am hoping you can more fully inform me as to your activities in Chile while we eat.”

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” Granger said. He followed the Viceroy at a respectable distance into a large dining room. The table had been reduced in size to accommodate the six of them, with the Viceroy at one end with Granger on his right, Avila at the other end, and the adjutants in the other chairs.

They began to eat what was truly excellent food, food so good it would give Lefavre a run for his money. After allowing them to enjoy their meal with casual conversation for a while, the Viceroy brought them back on topic. “My understanding is that you first landed at Valdivia.”

“Actually, Your Excellency, we paused for water south of there and captured the brig Saphiro. There was fortunately no loss of life.” The Viceroy nodded. “After that, we captured the fort at Niebla. The commandant of that fort was a brave and honorable man, but unfortunately he died defending his fortress. His courage in that action was such that I felt the need to emphasize that in my reports.”

“I am sure his family will appreciate your words,” the Viceroy said.

“We were then able to cut out and capture the Santa Clarita while destroying two of the French privateers based in Valdivia, Your Excellency.” The mention of the French privateers clearly irritated the Viceroy. He would most likely not be happy about having French ships based in his waters. “After that, Colonel de Perreira came to the fort under a flag of truce to discuss our evacuation. I requested that the Governor provide us with one hundred cows or pigs, as well as fruits and vegetables, to supplement our stores. In exchange, we agreed to leave the fortress without further damage.”

“So the capture of the Santa Clarita and the release of the prisoners were not enough, and he felt the need to resort to blackmail,” the 40-year-old adjutant said to the Viceroy in Spanish.

The Viceroy remained impassive, but Granger did not. He was not about to tolerate any disrespect. He knew that such an affront, if left unaddressed, would only make him appear weak. The man had said it in Spanish, to give himself an excuse if Granger actually understood that language. “I assume that Your Excellency did not invite me here to be insulted,” Granger said in Spanish, even as he stared at the offending adjutant.

“That most certainly was not my intention,” the Viceroy said, glaring at the man as well. He waited for Granger to continue, but Granger sat there silently, not eating, and not moving, merely glaring at the idiotic adjutant. The Viceroy seemed to realize that Granger wasn’t going on until the man was removed. “Leave us!” he ordered. The adjutant, looking horrified, hastily got up, bowed to the Viceroy, and all but fled from the dining room. “I am most sorry for that incident,” the Viceroy said.

“Let us not dwell on it, Your Excellency,” Granger said smoothly. “The governor of Valdivia chose to send a mere lieutenant to respond to my request, and told me that he would agree not to allow French privateers further access to Valdivia, and that he would allow us to leave unmolested, but that he would not provide us with provisions. I was insulted by his response, and by the low level of the messenger he sent to treat with me.” The Viceroy seemed quite irritated by that as well. Granger went on to explain how he demanded escudos instead of cows and pigs, and how ultimately the governor’s refusal led to the destruction of two additional merchant ships and parts of the town.

“As you have seen, my lord, we are not always lucky enough to be served by the most cultured of individuals,” the Viceroy said, clearly enraged at both his adjutant and the governor of Valdivia.

“Let us hope it is not the new world order, Your Excellency,” Granger observed.

“We can hope,” the Viceroy said, but seemed unconvinced.

“After that, we were forced to acquire stores by trading with the natives. Unfortunately, gold and silver are not as valuable to them as arms and gunpowder. We had captured a goodly supply of such items at Niebla, and were able to parlay them into cows, pigs, fruits, and vegetables,” Granger noted, further irritating the Viceroy. “The Santa Clarita accomplished that task while I sought out and captured the remaining French privateer.”

“And you encountered the San Augustin after that?”

“Yes, Your Excellency,” Granger said. He went on to describe the battle, emphasizing how gallantly the Spaniards had fought. He made sure to praise the lieutenant who had the wisdom to surrender the ship, and who then presumably lost his life to ensure she didn’t blow everyone up. He finished up by telling the Viceroy of his visit to Valdivia to repatriate the younger Perreira. “When we requested a parlay, it was denied, but Colonel de Perreira came out to retrieve his son anyway, risking fire from the other Spanish forts.” Granger had exaggerated there, but it was basically true.

“Indeed,” the Viceroy noted.

“While it is most inappropriate for me to interfere in Your Excellency’s affairs, I would most fervently hope that Colonel de Perreira does not suffer any ill-effects for defying his orders and choosing instead to retrieve his son.”

“Colonel de Perreira will not have to worry about recriminations for that action,” the Viceroy decreed.

“Thank you, Your Excellency,” Granger said. He decided that if he accomplished nothing else on this mission, he’d at least done some damage control for Perreira with the Viceroy. The conversation paused as they continued eating for a bit, until the Viceroy broke that silence.

“It is most unfortunate for me and His Most Catholic Majesty that you were ordered to use your talents in this region,” the Viceroy noted. “But for your honorable conduct, and your charming manners, I fear this series of events must be classified as disastrous.”

“I appreciate Your Excellency’s kind words, and am sorry that the discharge of my duty has caused you distress,” Granger said gallantly.

“You are no doubt aware that the San Fernando sits here in port, and is all but ready to make her voyage to Manila,” the Viceroy said. Granger thought that was a pretty stunning admission on his part.

“That is what I was led to believe, Your Excellency,” Granger agreed.

The Viceroy dabbed his mouth with his napkin, a gesture that seemed to indicate that he was absorbed in thought. “I am mindful that the capture of one of our galleons looms large in the minds of most Royal Navy officers.”

Granger chuckled. “That is most assuredly true, Your Excellency.”

“Under normal circumstances, I would expect that you would stay here, or perhaps leave the Santa Clarita to remain, and lurk outside of Callao, waiting for the galleon to sail so you could capture her.” Granger merely raised an eyebrow. That was his plan, but it was not overly ingenious, so it was no surprise that the Spaniards had guessed it. “It then becomes a battle of attrition, to see which happens first: do you run out of supplies for your ships, or do we run out of patience.”

Granger nodded. “I would suspect that would be a relatively long battle, Your Excellency, since you are known to be a prudent man, so patience would not be difficult for you to summon. Similarly, while of course ports in New Spain are closed to us, we have been able to acquire ample provisions from the native people, albeit surreptitiously.” He wanted the Viceroy to understand that it was entirely possible for them to arm the natives closer to Lima as well.

“Then I am glad we are both well aware of the situation,” the Viceroy said. “I would like to propose an alternative.”

“I am of course willing to entertain any proposals Your Excellency would care to proffer,” Granger said.

“I am envisioning an arrangement where you are paid to escort the San Fernando to Manila. She carries a considerable amount of silver, so the fee for such a service would be quite generous.”

Granger was stunned by the proposal, so to give himself time to digest it, he stalled. “That is a most unusual and unexpected proposal, Your Excellency.”

“Undoubtedly,” he said, “yet it solves both of our problems. While it will cost us a goodly amount of money, we can be relatively assured that the San Fernando will arrive in Manila unmolested. At the same time, while you could possibly capture the entire shipment, it is also possible that you would end up with nothing, so there is some surety there as well.”

“As you might expect, I would like some time to ruminate on your idea, Your Excellency. The missing pieces of information for me to digest, however, are the amount of compensation we are to be given and the exact nature of the protection you are asking us to provide.”

The Viceroy smiled, pleased that Granger hadn’t rejected his offer instantly. “You currently have two ships under your command, if I am not mistaken?”

“As far as I know, Your Excellency,” Granger said. “Santa Clarita has been dispatched on an independent errand.” The Viceroy nodded.

“I would request that you escort the San Fernando with your ship and the Santa Clarita halfway to Manila. It is rumored that you are ultimately bound for Amboyna.” Granger cringed internally at the lack of secrecy revolving around his ultimate destination. “Once you are halfway to Manila, I would have no problem with you allowing the Santa Clarita to escort the San Fernando to Manila while you continue on to Amboyna in your own vessel. Or vice-versa, as you see fit.”

Granger could see that as a workable plan. He could dispatch Calvert to Manila while he went on to work out the hash that was bound to be waiting for him in Amboyna. When Calvert joined him, they could both return to England, or make for Madras, based on how things went. “I can see that as a viable plan, Your Excellency.”

“And in exchange, we would transfer to you 1,000,000 reals,” the Viceroy said. It was all Granger could do to keep his face impassive. That was a massive amount of money. It was well over 300,000 pounds. It would make him fabulously rich, and would catapult his officers into a significant place in society. Even the men would be wealthy beyond their dreams.

“That is a most generous offer, Your Excellency. If you will allow me to ponder it for twenty-four hours, I will provide you with an answer tomorrow.”

“That is amenable to me,” the Viceroy said. And with that, their meeting ended, and a somewhat stunned George Granger was returned to his ship.