“Trinidad,” echoed Turenne eventually. “An interesting location to focus upon. Why there?”
“The petroleum deposits at Pitch Lake. They’re right on the surface.”
“True. But why would I want to travel across the Atlantic for oil?”
“For the same reason you took all the engineering plans from the oilfield at Wietze before you disabled the facility. You wouldn’t have been interested in those plans if you didn’t realize that France needs its own aircraft, vehicles and other systems dependent upon internal combustion engines. And that, in turn, means France must have oil. And getting oil quickly necessitates owning surface deposits that you can access with only minimal improvement to your current drilling capabilities.”
Turenne acknowledged the truth of the deductions with a wave of his hand. Denying something so obvious would only make him seem childish. “So, even if we accept your conjecture, I am still no closer to getting oil, even if I am willing to cross the Atlantic. Pitch Lake is held by the Spanish.”
“It is on a Spanish island. That’s not quite the same thing.”
So they also had access to tactical intelligence on Trinidad. That was interesting. “You seem unusually familiar with, and sure about, the disposition of Spanish forces on Trinidad,” he said.
McCarthy nodded. “A young American visited the island not too long ago, on board a Dutch ship. They landed near Pitch Lake and there were no Spanish to be seen, just a few of their native allies. So as regards Pitch Lake, either the Spanish don’t know what they’re sitting on, don’t know what to do with it, or don’t care about it.”
A concise and accurate summary of all the possibilities. But the dance of dueling intelligence portfolios was not yet over. “Even if it is true that the Spanish have no town or garrison at Pitch Lake, it does not follow that the Spanish are inherently uninterested in it. It is a relatively short sail to Cumana and even Puerto Cabello, where they have a considerable depth of power. In order to hold out against a response from those bases, one would need a small flotilla, at least, to hold Pitch Lake.”
“That presumes the Spanish are even aware you have taken possession of it.” And McCarthy almost smiled.
So here at last was the first hint of something mysterious, unprecedented: a sure sign that the conversation would soon turn toward an unforeseen up-timer capability, upon which this pair was obviously basing their proposal. “And you have a way to ensure that the Spanish would remain unaware if Pitch Lake were to be seized?”
“Not permanently, but long enough that you wouldn’t need to commit large forces to landing and initial defense. Sizable forces would only be needed once Pitch Lake was securely invested and held, to further fortify and secure it against Spanish attempts at reconquest.”
“You speak of summoning ‘sizable forces’ as if I was the French military commander of the Caribbean, Mr. McCarthy. I assure you, I have no such authority. Nor does our senior factor on St. Christopher.”
“I am aware of that, Lord Turenne. That is why our proposal for seizing Pitch Lake calls for only one ship.”
“One ship?”
“Yes, Lord Turenne. A prize hull, currently at moorings in Dunkirk. The Fleur Sable.”
Turenne frowned. The Fleur Sable was a severely damaged Dutch cromster, recently taken by the “privateers” operating out of Dunkirk. She had earned mention in his intelligence dispatches when two confidential agents in her crew—one English, one French—both attempted to negotiate with the victorious pirates in the name of their respective governments. Heads (theirs) had rolled in the confusion and the ship, a potential item of international embarrassment, remained unsold and unrepaired. As Turenne remembered her, the oversized Fleur Sable was square-rigged at both the fore- and mainmasts and lateen-rigged at the mizzenmast, meaning that she was not only capable of making an Atlantic crossing in good shape, but also had reasonable maneuverability in capricious winds.
Turenne looked at his two visitors with newfound regard. They had selected this hull carefully and well. And they obviously knew that, given his contacts and authority in the region, Turenne could acquire a single battered (and therefore under-priced) hull for “experimental purposes” easily enough. But that did not dispose him toward ready agreement. “And how do you expect me to crew this Dutch sieve?”
O’Donnell answered. “Among the ranks of the Dunkirk privateers, there are currently French sailors, and even a few officers, who were unjustly dismissed from Louis XIII’s service in disgrace. As I hear it, almost all of them wish to return to his service, and success on a mission such as this might dispose him to hear their appeals with greater favor.”