A Falcon Flies (16 page)

Codrington had run down on the slave barracoons at Calabash on a clear June morning so that the five Argentinian slave ships had spotted his topsails while he was thirty miles out, and had immediately begun frantically re-landing their cargoes of slaves on the beach.

By the time
Black Joke
reached them, the five captains were grinning smugly, their holds empty, and nearly two thousand miserable slaves in clear view squatting in long lines on the shore. To add to the slavers' complacency they were a good twenty nautical miles south of the equator, and therefore at that time beyond the jurisdiction of the Royal Navy. The barracoons had been sited at Calabash to take full advantage of this provision in the international agreements.

The slavers' complacency turned to indignation when the
Black Joke
ran out her guns, and under their menace sent boats with armed seamen on board them.

The Spanish masters, under their Argentinian flags of convenience, protested vigorously and volubly the presence of armed boarding parties.

‘We are not a boarding party,' Codrington explained reasonably to the senior captain. ‘We are armed advisers, and our advice is that you begin taking aboard your cargo again – and swiftly.'

The Spaniard continued his protests until the crack of a gun from the
Black Joke
drew his attention to the five nooses already dangling from the gunboat's yardarm. The Spaniard was certain that the nooses could not be put to the use for which they were very obviously intended – then he looked once more into the chilled sapphire eyes of the very young silver-haired English officer and decided not to make any bets on it.

Once the slaves were re-embarked, the Englishman, their self-appointed armed adviser, gave them his next piece of unsolicited advice. That was that the slave fleet up-anchor and set a course which five hours later intercepted the equatorial line.

Here Captain Codrington made a very precise observation of the sun's altitude, consulted his almanac and invited the Spanish captain to check his workings and confirm his finding that they were now in 0ï¿®05" North latitude. Then the Englishman immediately arrested him and seized the five vessels; the armed advisers changing their status, without visible pain or discomfort, to that of prize crews.

When Codrington sailed his five prizes into Table Bay, Admiral Kemp listened aghast to the Spaniard's account of his capture, and then immediately retired to his bed with bowel spasms and migraine headache. From his darkened bedroom he dictated first the order confining Codrington to his ship and the ship to its anchorage, and then his horrified report to the First Lord of the Admiralty.

This episode, which might so easily have ended with Codrington court-martialled and beached for life and with the abrupt termination of Admiral Kemp's dogged advance towards his knighthood and retirement, had in fact brought both men riches and advancement.

The sloop carrying Kemp's despatch to the First Lord passed another southbound in mid-ocean, which in its turn bore despatches for the Admiral Commanding the Cape Squadron from not only the First Lord but the Foreign Secretary as well.

Kemp was requested and required in the future to apply the ‘equipment clause' to the ships of all Christian nations

– with the glaring exception of the United States of America

– in all latitudes, both north and south of the equatorial line.

The despatches were dated four days previous to Codrington's raid upon the Calabash barracoons, making his actions not only legal but highly meritorious.

From the very brink of professional disaster, Admiral Kemp had been snatched back, with his knighthood assured and a large sum of prize money paid into his account at Messrs Coutts of the Strand. The five Spaniards were condemned at the next session of the Court of Mixed Commission at Cape Town. Kemp's own share of the prize money had amounted to several thousand pounds, that of his junior captain to nearly twice that amount, and both officers had received personal letters of commendation from the First Lord.

None of this had done anything to increase Kemp's trust or liking for his junior, and now he listened with mounting horror to the suggestion that he sanction the boarding and search of the American trading clipper, which was at present enjoying the hospitality of the port.

For some sickening moments Kemp contemplated his place in history as the officer who had precipitated the second war with the former American colonies. There was nothing equivocal about the view of the American Government as to the sanctity of their shipping, and there were specific sections of Kemp's Admiralty orders covering the subject.

‘Admiral Kemp,' Codrington was clearly burning with enthusiasm for the enterprise, ‘it is absolutely beyond question that the
Huron
is a slaver, and is equipped for the trade in terms of the act. She is no longer upon the high seas, but lying at anchor within British territorial waters. I can be aboard her within two hours, with impartial witnesses, a Supreme Court judge even.'

Kemp cleared his throat noisily. He had in fact tried to speak, but so appalled was he that the words had not reached his lips. Codrington seemed to take the sound as encouragement.

‘This man, St John, is one of the most infamous slavers of modern times. His name is a legend on the coast. They say he carried over 3,000 slaves one year across the middle passage. It's a golden opportunity for us.'

Kemp found his voice at last. ‘I dined at Government House on Wednesday. Mr St John was in the company as his Excellency's personal guest. I considered Mr St John to be a gentleman, and I know he is a man of considerable substance and influence in his own country,' he said flatly, no trace of emotion in his voice. His self-control surprised even himself.

‘He is a slaver.' Robyn Ballantyne spoke for the first time since she had seated herself at the window of the Admiral's study. The two men had forgotten her existence, but now they both turned to her.

‘I have been inside the
Huron's
main hold and she is fully equipped for the trade,' she said, her voice low but clear, and Kemp felt a sour feeling rising within him. He wondered that he had thought this young woman enchanting at their first meeting. Kemp liked young females and he had personally instructed his Secretary to send the invitations to the Ballantynes, brother and sister, but now he regretted it. He could see, of course, that what he had mistaken for spirit was in fact the mischievousness of the born troublemaker, and that far from being pretty she was in fact downright plain, with a large nose and heavy jaw. He had found her a refreshing change from the simpering and giggling young ladies of the Colony – and realized now that the preference had been unwise. He wondered if he could have his Secretary withdraw the invitation.

‘I would think, Admiral Kemp, that it was your duty to send a search party aboard the
Huron
,' Robyn told him – and Kemp leaned back in the big chair and breathed heavily through his mouth. As an Admiral of the Blue it had been some years since anybody had dared point out his duty for him. His grip on his self-control slackened.

He stared at the young person. Did he detect a peculiar venom in her voice? He wondered. She had been a passenger on
Huron
. She had left the ship the instant it reached Table Bay. There was no doubt the woman was ‘fast' and that Captain St John was a handsome man.

There was a fine story here, Kemp concluded, as he asked drily, ‘Is it true, Miss Ballantyne, that you assaulted the surgeon-general in a fit of ungovernable rage?'

Robyn gaped at him for a moment, the change of direction taking her completely off-balance, and before she could reply he went on,

‘You are clearly a highly emotional young lady. I would have to consider very carefully before committing a hostile act against an important citizen of a friendly nation on your unsupported testimony.'

He pulled the gold watch from his fob pocket, and consulted it with his full attention.

‘Thank you for calling on me, Miss Ballantyne.' Once again he did not use her professional title. ‘We look forward to seeing you tomorrow evening. Perhaps you would allow me a private word with Captain Codrington.'

Robyn felt her cheeks burning as she rose from the window seat.

‘Thank you, Admiral, you have been very kind and patient,' she said tightly, and swept from the room.

Kemp was not so mild with Codrington. While the young Captain stood to attention before him, he leaned forward in the throne and the veins stood out like twisted blue ropes in the back of his hands as he gripped the arms of the chair.

‘You were misguided in bringing that young person here to discuss navy business,' he snapped.

‘Sir, I needed to convince you.'

‘That's enough, Codrington. I have heard all you have to say. Now you listen to me.'

‘Aye, aye, sir.'

‘You are naive not to take into account the changed circumstances in the American administration. Are you not aware that Mr Lincoln is likely to be elected to the presidency?'

‘I am, sir.'

‘Then even you may be dimly aware that very delicate considerations are in the balance. The Foreign Office is confident that the new administration will have a markedly changed attitude to the trade.'

‘Sir!' Codrington agreed stiffly.

‘Can you imagine what it will mean to us to have full right of search of American shipping on the high seas?'

‘Sir.'

‘We will have that – once Mr Lincoln takes the oath, and if no junior officers of this service take independent action to prejudice the attitude of the Americans.'

‘Sir.' Codrington stood rigid, staring over the Admiral's head at a painting of a lightly veiled Venus on the panelled wall behind him.

‘Codrington,' Kemp spoke now with cold menace, ‘you have had one very close shave at Calabash. I swear to you, if you let your wild nature get the better of you once more, I will have you hounded from the service.'

‘Sir.'

‘You are now under the strictest injunction not to approach closer than a cable's length to the trade clipper
Huron
, and if you should encounter her again at sea, you will pay her passing honours and give her a wide berth. Do I make myself sufficiently clear?'

‘Sir.' Only Codrington's lips moved, and the Admiral took two long controlled breaths before going on.

‘When will you sail for the Mozambique channel?' he asked, his voice more reasonable.

‘I have your orders to take the flood on Saturday, sir.'

‘Can you advance that sailing?'

‘Yes, sir, but it would mean leaving without fully charged magazines – we expect the powder barge alongside at dawn on Saturday.'

Kemp shook his head, and sighed. ‘I would feel better with you at sea,' he muttered. ‘But, very well then, I will look to see you flying the Blue Peter at first light on Saturday morning.'

Robyn Ballantyne was waiting for him in the borrowed Cartwright carriage, under the portico of Admiralty House.

Codrington came down the steps, with his cocked hat under his arm and climbed stiffly into the buttoned leather seat beside her.

The Hottentot coachman flicked his whip at the shiny rumps, and they swayed in unison as the carriage jerked away down the tree-lined driveway.

Neither of them spoke until they had left the Admiralty grounds, and were whirling down the hill towards the Liesbeeck bridge with the coachman holding them on a light brake.

‘What do we do now?' Robyn asked.

‘Nothing,' said Clinton Codrington.

Twenty minutes later as they came around the shoulder of the mountain and looked down at the bay where
Huron
rode at anchor, Robyn spoke again.

‘Can't you think of anything to stop this monster?'

‘Can you?' he asked sharply, and neither of them spoke again until they reached the landing place.

The fishing-boats were in and beached already, their catch laid out on the sand, a glittering silver and ruby-red pile around which the housewives and their servants bartered and bargained with the brown barelegged fishermen, while the fish horns blared to summon more customers down from the town. The two in the parked carriage watched the commotion with unnatural attention, avoiding each other's eyes.

‘You will be at the Admiralty ball tomorrow night? I heard Slogger Kemp say so.'

‘No,' Robyn shook her head fiercely. ‘I cannot abide the frivolous chatter and silly behaviour of these occasions, and I particularly do not want to be again the guest of that man.'

Codrington turned to her for the first time since they had reached the landing. She was a fine-looking woman, he thought, with that clear lustre to her skin and the thoughtful dark-green eyes under their dark curved brows. He liked a tall strong woman, and he had learned enough of her spirit to accord her respect, a respect that could easily become fascination, he realized.

‘Could I prevail upon you to change your mind?' he asked quietly, and she glanced at him, startled. ‘I would undertake to provide sober conversation and a dignified dancing partner.'

‘I do not dance, Captain.'

‘That is a great relief,' he admitted. ‘For neither do I, when I have a choice.' He smiled. She could not remember seeing him smile before. It changed him completely. The coldness went from the pale blue eyes and they darkened with merriment while two deep laughter lines formed at the corner of his mouth and arched up to touch the thin straight nose.

‘Slogger Kemp keeps a wonderful chef.' He was wheedling now. ‘Fine food and serious conversation.'

His teeth were porcelain white and very regular against the deep-water tan. She felt the corners of her own mouth tugging upwards, and he saw the change in her and pressed his advantage.

‘I may have further news, some further plan for
Huron
to discuss with you.'

‘That makes it irresistible.' She laughed outright at last, with surprisingly unforced gaiety that made some of the nearest bystanders glance around at her and smile in sympathy.