Caribbee(107)

Miller settled and said expansively, ‘Right. Well, first we has a network. Of business intelligence. Every sugar port in the Caribbee has its wharf lumpers as knows when a ship’s down to sail. They tips my man on the island the wink and we set to work. Our tricksy papers are made up and, with location instructions, sent out to the nearest deployed privateer.’

‘I don’t see how you know where they’ll be, and—’

‘I’m gettin’ to that. The sugar boat is taken, the prize crew has their papers and off they sail to Charleston. The privateer returns. Now, you were askin’ about the privateer fleet. Well, we has above a dozen places o’ rendezvous. Here we keep ’em supplied with victuals an’ water such as they don’t ever have to make a port, keeping right out of sight o’ your frigates an’ such. We therefore knows where they is, see?’

‘How then do you keep in touch with your fleet? A navy has dispatch cutters, avisos, that sort of thing.’

‘Shark-meat fishermen. They’d cross the Caribbean for a dollar in hand.’

Of course! Like a swarm of mosquitoes off some coasts, their movements would never be questioned. Carrying a pack of papers, instructions – it was brilliant.

‘Tell me, Mr Miller, in all our naval patrols we’ve never once caught up with one of your privateers. Why is that, do you think?’

The American gave a boyish smile. ‘As we have our man in your admiral’s office, o’ course. Can’t tell you his name, you’ll understand, but he’s been mighty obliging in the article of getting your patrol orders to us for a fair fee.’

In a flash of insight Renzi knew who it must be, and said smoothly, ‘I own I was well flammed by the information about Curaçao. Was that your …?’

‘Aye, it was. You was getting too close to the real thing, so I arranged a little show as would discredit your idea.’

Renzi sat back. It was Wilikins. The only one to know if he’d taken the bait in order for Miller to put it in train. ‘And it worked, I do confess.’

‘Um, do you tell me now, Mr Smith, how did you catch on to us at all?’

‘I’ll let you know if, first, you tell me something. What became of the crews of the prizes you captured?’

‘Oh, well. Had to make it all pay, so had an arrangement with Emperor Dessalines in Haiti. Quite took to the idea of running white slaves.’

‘You … sold them into slavery?’

‘Don’t take on so. You’ll get ’em back, should you make a ruckus. Can’t be seen to have any kind o’ slavery, his nation founded on the back of a slave revolt.’

Renzi shook his head in disbelief and admiration. The whole thing could only have worked with meticulous attention to detail, immaculate management and business acumen on a heroic scale.

‘Very well. This is how you were dished, Mr Miller.’

There was no need to involve Louise but by the time he had finished there was admiration on both sides. With nothing in writing and everything hearsay, there was every likelihood that the man would get away with whatever he could salvage from the sudden demise of his business.

In a way, Renzi could only honour him for the achievement.





Chapter 13




Dodd entered the room diffidently. ‘Can I show you something, sir?’ he asked, hovering.

‘Oh, er, I think we’ve concluded our little talk,’ Renzi said. ‘Thank you, Mr Miller, for a very enlightening conversation.’

He rose and left with the sergeant. There were more than enough men to safeguard their capture and the prisoners could await developments.

Dodd led him out of the front of the house. ‘There, sir,’ he said, pointing at the fort where a ridiculously large union   Flag flew proudly aloft.

Renzi beamed. They had done it! Now to savour the sweets of victory.

He handed over to Curzon and stepped out for the fort. He would hear details of the action first, then join Kydd in L’Aurore for a suitably rousing celebration.

At the gate two Royal Marine sentries from the ship recognised him and, with huge grins, elaborately presented arms. He doffed his hat to them and went inside.

It was a bedlam of noisy activity and Renzi quickly picked up that this had been selected as the provisional seat of government of the new military ruler of Marie-Galante.

‘Er, where’s the, er, governor?’ he asked a distracted officer.

‘Oh – in the end office,’ he said, and bustled off.

Renzi had a duty before anything else to report that the prime objective of the assault had been secured, so he went down the corridor to the large office at the end. He knocked at the open door.