The Iberian Flame

Chapter 42

Tyger rounded to in the lee of Ocean and hailed across the news that the distinguished visitor wished to confer with the commander-in-chief.

At the entry-port Collingwood personally handed aboard the Spanish grandee. ‘You are most welcome to my ship,’ he said, with the utmost courtesy. ‘Whatever the occasion, sir.’

In Ocean’s spacious great cabin, room was made for the considerable number of the general’s staff, and time allowed for their seating in the proper order.

Renzi retired to a chair in the corner, claiming only to be a gentleman of rank unwittingly drawn into events but an available witness.

It was left to Kydd to state the situation, having heard it from Renzi as they waited on Morla to complete his wardrobe.

‘I wish to express my sensibility of the late actions of the general in defeating Rosily’s fleet so roundly,’ Collingwood declared. This brought a boyish smile of pleasure to Morla’s face.

The translator, sitting next to Morla, replied, ‘The general believes this victory allows him to beg assistance of a direct kind in order to withstand the French hordes even now marching on Cadiz.’

Collingwood pursed his lips, considering. ‘Tell me, sir. To whom am I speaking?’ he asked carefully.

In consternation the general snarled at the translator, who delicately replied, ‘Captain General Morla is confused at your question, Excelentisimo, and desires you to be more … explicit.’

‘Very well. Is it to the military commander of Cadiz city or to a member of the civil administration? Much depends on your answer, sir.’

‘You speak, sir, to the head of the Cadiz junta. With the inability of the King to rule, sovereignty resides in this assembly of the people, the townsfolk of Cadiz.’

The commander-in-chief nodded slowly. ‘Then I do regret there is nothing I can do to aid you. It would be classed by His Majesty’s government as aid to a faction of the enemy and I would be made to answer for it before a court-martial.’

Morla’s eyes glowed in anger.

Renzi intervened: ‘Sir, General Morla is being less than just to his situation. True, he is at the head of the only junta that has thrown back the French in open battle, but his victory does inspire others. There is word that a similar junta is being brought together in Seville and more in other parts of Spain that cleave to the same constitution as that forged in Cadiz.’

He paused, letting the general be informed, and to his satisfaction saw the intelligence of the man rise to the challenge.

A barked declaration was translated as ‘General Morla informs the distinguished admiral that this is to say, as time permits, there will be created a Supreme Junta of the people under whose banner the entire nation will turn upon the faithless French.’

‘Then-’

‘And as it has been in Cadiz that the flag of freedom has first been raised he dares to say that this body shall be located here in this city. And further, that naturally his own person will be to the fore when the Supreme Junta is constituted, and therefore when he is spoken to, properly, it is the people of Spain who are being addressed.’

It was outrageous – it was daring – and it had every chance of coming off.

Collingwood leaned back speculatively. ‘The people of Spain.’

‘Nothing less, Excelentisimo.’

‘Then, sir, I can still do nothing.’

Before the affronted Morla could protest, he continued calmly, ‘For this is a high matter, dealing as it does with weighty affairs of state. No longer am I dealing with a local military commander but all of Spain. Sir, this I do offer you: passage to Great Britain as your country’s representative with the object of securing a species of peace between our two nations. My accompanying dispatch will also beg that aid and assistance be immediately given to the Spanish in their purpose to expel the invaders.’

‘Sir, the captain general applauds your wisdom and wishes to take advantage of your generous offer. He does, however, desire me to point out that – merely as a technical oversight – we are still at war.’

‘It has not escaped me, sir,’ Collingwood said, with the ghost of a smile. ‘Thusly it is my order as of this hour – to my entire fleet about the Iberian coasts – that no vessel bearing the Spanish flag shall be fired upon, save it fires first. There, sir. A peace by any other name. And of course you shall be given safe-conduct under my name for your mission in British waters.’

Kydd could only wonder at what he’d just witnessed. Was this a turning point in the war, or a dashing but foolhardy gesture by a local warlord against the hosts that had subjugated the entire Continent?