At the rear of the house, french windows opened on to a pleasant but overgrown sitting-out area and an ornamental pond that stank with weed. Neglected and shrivelled fruit hung from a small orchard and the grass was thick and rank.
And still there was not the slightest betraying creak or scrape.
Kydd blinked and tried to think, retracing their steps and looking about more carefully.
They searched the house room by room until at last he was forced to accept that there was absolutely nothing anywhere, not the tiniest scrap of evidence to show that this had once been a threatening secret naval base.
‘Call ’em here, Sar’nt,’ he ordered.
The rest arrived, hesitantly looking about, Renzi’s face set tight.
‘Nicholas,’ Kydd asked in a low voice, ‘are you not mistaken in your locations? There’s nothing here to—’
Renzi looked stunned, but managed, ‘It was here, I’ll swear. Just that …’
He went quickly to a side room. ‘This is where …’ He tailed off, staring at the few sticks of mildewed furniture, odorous rubbish in a corner, a broken child’s toy and shook his head in disbelief.
‘But I – I …’
‘You men take the garden. Sar’nt Dodd, I want you to take a good look around outside. Anything – anything at all as will show us where the Frenchies went.’
‘Sah!’
‘Now, Nicholas. I have to ask it of you – you’re entirely sure this is where you were taken?’
With a worried, hunted look Renzi hurried from the house out to where bemused marines and seamen were poking about in the grounds and by the gate. He reached the road, then turned and looked back at the house. ‘It is! This is the place!’
Kydd joined him. ‘Then we’ve a pretty tale to take back to Brisbane, not to say Admiral Dacres. I do hope you have explanations, old fellow.’
‘Excellent, excellent!’ Brisbane said, rubbing his hands with glee. ‘We reduced Fort Amsterdam in something like ten minutes. The citadel yielded without a fight and the town is ours. The last resistance remaining is Fort Republiek on the hill there. I’m shortly to warp up all four frigates and threaten a bombardment as will shake ’em out of their clogs, the villains, then all Curaçao will be ours.’
He collected himself and asked solicitously, ‘And, it being the whole point of all these fireworks, you’ve laid hold on the secret Frenchy base, I take it?’
‘Um, not as who’s to say, Charles,’ Kydd answered awkwardly, ‘they being not at home to us.’
He gave a quick account of their morning, finishing with a weak smile.
Brisbane said, ‘Why, it has to be they made for the hills when they heard our first shots. Won’t help ’em, for the island will be ours before noon and we’ll make search for wherever they went to ground. Don’t worry, we’ll find ’em.’
Kydd looked up at Renzi. ‘Now, don’t take this amiss, dear fellow, but if sworn to it, I’d be obliged to say there was nothing in any wise in that house that gives us reason to think anyone was there. No scraps o’ food, papers, odd military bits that show they left in a hurry. Nothing.’
‘I – I can’t account for it, that I’m forced to admit …’
‘An unkind cove would say further there’s not even the slightest piece of evidence to show that would justify our invasion of Curaçao in any sense, none at all.’
‘It’s impossible! I just can’t understand it …’
‘Sit down, Mr Renzi,’ Dacres said heavily, eyeing him with distaste. ‘You’ve heard that Captain Brisbane reports not a single sign whatsoever of a Frenchman or a base? None, sir!’
‘This is quite unaccountable to me, sir,’ Renzi began, ‘being that we found the right house and—’
‘There was no evidence at all that Frenchmen were ever there. This is insupportable, sir! You gave me your word of honour on what you say transpired there.’
‘Sir, I—’
‘On your say-so I went ahead with a damn risky invasion of a whole island. What do you say to that, sir?’
‘Why, there’s no possible reply I can make, sir.’
Dacres snorted. ‘Except the action was carried off with the greatest success, I’d be a laughing stock.’
His expression eased fractionally at the reminder of military conquest in his name and he continued more equably, ‘As it is, you should be grateful there was such an outcome as none now will question its reason.’
Renzi kept his silence, burning with embarrassment and anger.
‘I don’t quite know what Commodore D’Auvergne saw in you, Renzi, but as some species of spy you don’t cut it with me, I have to say. Experienced, my left foot!’