In Guards We Trust
***
Jason also spotted the indecisiveness paralysing the the French officers and it spawned a wide grin. If there was one navy the French truly respected, it was the Royal navy. The experienced English captains, their well-trained seamen and particularly their gun-crews were legendary amongst the French sailors. The execution of many experienced French naval commanders and officers during the recent uprisings served only to aggravate any disparity between the two navies. Jason had calculated that the perceived arrival of the royal navy would cause panic, fear and confusion amongst the French, who had no doubt expected to capture Montuga without significant opposition from the royal guards, or from anyone else. But the unexpected intervention of the royal navy was enough to scupper the operational plans of the French. He was convinced that none of the French commanders would wish to risk engaging the royal navy without clear orders from Paris for fear of causing a war and, more particularly, for fear of losing their lives.
Jason had, several months earlier, commissioned several clothing factories in Naples to make uniforms which could pass as those of the British navy and the British army to the untrained eye. Huge flags which could pass as standards of the royal navy at a distance were added to that order. At the time of their refit, the names of each of his seven ships were painted on individual blocks of wood which could easily be fitted, removed and replaced with other names including ones which bore a remarkable similarity to those of current royal navy warships.
Without warning, the French troops on the quay placed their muskets on the ground in front of them. They stood motionlessly on the main quay as they watched Jason’s vessels come alongside. Armed men in red uniforms lost no time disembarking from the newly arrived vessels.
Jason Cavendish led six platoons of soldiers towards the French troops. Eighty mounted royal guards also advanced towards the stunned crowd of protestors gathered at the harbour entrance from the direction of the city.
‘This is an outrage,’ shouted a French commander who approached Jason. ‘How dare the British navy enter French territory? This is an act of war!’ The outburst removed any lingering doubts that the French had fallen for the deception.
‘We are not the British navy. This is a private fleet, tasked by the Monte Vista Trade Centre to seek and destroy pirates and their vessels. We received word that pirates parading as the French navy were launching an attack on Monte Vista. And now I see that it is indeed so. We obviously arrived in the nick of time.’ Around five hundred armed marines assembled behind Jason as he spoke.
‘My name is Commander Alain Du Pont of the French republican army. We are not pirates! We arrived here to protect fellow republicans who are being shot and killed by the king’s royal guard. I also wish to make it clear that I don’t believe a word of what you say. You cannot fool me. You are clearly the royal navy. Your presence here is illegal and provocative. It is an act of war. I demand that you leave at once.’
As Du Pont finished speaking, Jason noticed that the British ambassador was heading down the quay towards them at what, particularly for him, constituted a phenomenal speed. He seemed highly agitated and his red cheeks served only to emphasise this. Long before he got close enough to recognise Jason, Lord Graveny shouted:
‘What in heaven’s name do you think you are you doing? Do you want to start a war? Who authorised this?’
‘See! I told you,’ Du Pont said. ‘Even your own ambassador confirms that you are the royal navy and that your presence here is illegal. I demand your immediate withdrawal. If Montuga requires protection, such protection will be provided by France in accordance with the provisions of the Treaty of Montuga.’
‘Hello Lord Graveny,’ Jason said as the ambassador joined Du Pont and himself. The elderly ambassador took a moment to regain his breath. The fact that Jason Cavendish looked as though he was the officer in command of this fleet only served to further delay the ambassador’s efforts to recover his usual composure as he huffed and puffed. Graveny recognised a few senior officers of Jason’s merchant fleet and looked exasperated as he tried to make sense of the scene before him.
‘Your Highness, I must inquire why you and your men are presenting themselves in British naval uniforms, and why you are flying the royal navy ensign from those ships?’ Graveny’s tone was now more measured. ‘This is most irregular. Your highness has no authority to misrepresent your ships as those of the royal navy. This could start a war.’
Du Pont’s jaw dropped at the ambassador’s startling suggestion that the new arrivals might not in fact be the royal navy. Someone seemed to be pulling the wool over his eyes and Du Pont was evidently not minded to stand for any of it. He doubtless considered it prudent, however, to allow this extraordinary conversation to finish before speaking again.
‘My dear Lord Graveny,’ Jason replied. ‘I am afraid there appears to have been a most unfortunate misunderstanding. I invite you to subject our uniforms to careful scrutiny. This will reveal that each one differs from the royal navy’s uniform in a multitude of significant respects. The same applies to the flags on our ships. I would never dream of being involved in any scheme to impersonate the royal navy.’ Jason smiled politely.
‘Heaven forbid,’ added one of Jason’s officers.
‘Perish the thought,’ agreed the Earl of Somerset, who had joined them.
‘I am rather unsure what to make of this,’ the ambassador remarked. He was still breathing heavily and his flushed visage suggested that this incident constituted an unwelcome, not to mention an untimely diversion from the consumption of a bottle of his favourite claret or such like.
‘Your Excellency, if you do not believe me, I suggest that you ask the French Commander here,’ Jason said as he gestured at Du Pont. ‘He will be able to confirm that we lost no time in immediately informing him that we were not the royal navy. Is that not so, Commander?’
‘Yes they did, but I don’t believe them,’ complained Du Pont. He clenched his jaw and frowned at Jason. He was evidently unable to comprehend how his meticulously planned military operation could have descended into such chaos and even worse, apparent farce.
‘There you have it, your Excellency,’ Jason concluded. ‘No deception. No false uniforms and no misleading ensigns. Evidently it has all been nothing but an honest mistake which, thank the Lord, has been cleared up thanks to your timely and most discerning intervention.’
‘Nothing has been cleared up to my satisfaction,’ Du Pont declared emphatically. ‘I still insist upon the withdrawal of the royal navy from French territory.’
‘Commander,’ the ambassador intervened. ‘I am afraid that you can take it from me that this is not the royal navy. It is the private navy of Lord Jason Cavendish, son of the Duke of Scarborough.’
The look of distrust and disbelief on Du Pont’s face merged with apparent confusion. The ambassador continued unperturbed.
‘I think it necessary to point out, Commander, that now that you are apprised of the facts, any further attempt by you to claim that the royal navy is in Montuga, will not only be false, but it will be regarded by my government as a malicious attempt by France to draw Britain into a state of war with your country. I trust I make myself perfectly clear. Good day, gentlemen.’ As the ambassador was about to leave, he focused on Jason and continued:
‘I should also mention, your highness that this is by no means the end of the matter as far as your fleet is concerned. His majesty’s government will be most distressed to hear of this incident. This sort of confusion is simply intolerable. It could draw Britain into a war she does not wish to prosecute.’ With that, the ambassador turned away and strolled down the quay at a far more relaxed pace than that with which he had arrived.
Jason decided that he would have to wait until later before trying to placate the ambassador. Dealing with the French was the first priority. In order to avoid any suggestion that Montuga had a fleet, Jason permitted the Earl to do the honours.
‘Commander Du Pont, I arrest y
ou and your fellow pirates on the authority granted to me by the Trade Centre of Monte Vista,’ the Earl declared. ‘If any of your men attempt to pick up their weapons they will be shot without further warning. Your pirate ships shall also be seized. It is my duty to protect this port from pirates and from illegal military seizures such as the one you have just lead.’
‘You cannot arrest me!’ Du Pont declared loudly. ‘I am here on behalf of my government to prevent the violent and bloody slaughter of republicans by the royal guard.’
‘If this is true, Commander, I assume you can take us to these dead bodies. Or at least show us the blood-stained streets.’
Du Pont looked around nervously.
‘Where are the bodies?’ he shouted to a small crowd of protestors who had made their way down the quay in order to ascertain what had become of the invasion. ‘Show these people!’
The crowd murmured.
‘There is only one, Mr Le Blanc,’ one person said sheepishly. ‘And he had only himself to blame.’
‘Are you referring to Mr Le Blanc, the postman?’ inquired Jason.
‘Yes,’ a few people in the crowd shouted.
‘He was shot by the royal guards,’ others cried.
‘They could not have done a good job of shooting him, because if I am not mistaken, Mr Le Blanc is alive and well and he is standing behind you, over there, next to that lamppost.’
The flabbergasted crowd turned around to see that Jason was correct. They were not to know that they had been set up. Mr Le Blanc had been purposely shot by a royal guard using gunpowder but no musket ball. A red mixture was responsible for the remainder of the illusion. People continued to stare at the postman, seemingly unable to believe their eyes. Jason then walked up to the protestors.
‘We knew in advance that the French pirates and some of you were planning this illegal uprising against his majesty the king,’ the Earl explained to the crowd. ‘You required a dead body or two so that you could summon the French pirate ships. We provided you with a fake death to prevent you from causing the death of somebody real. I suggest that you all go home now and that you can consider yourselves lucky that the King intends to be merciful. The ringleaders among you ought to face arrest and be shot for treason, but the king has pardoned the lot of you. Away with you!’
The republican protesters dispersed before their eyes like hailstones on a sun-baked road. Du Pont and all his troops were summarily arrested on suspicion of participating in an illegal coup d’état. They were incarcerated at the municipal jail and in various other secure locations in the kingdom. The French vessels were seized. The sailors who had remained on the frigates were also arrested and incarcerated.
‘It is such a shame for France that I happened to mention to the king only four days ago that he should consider passing a law permitting the confiscation of any items used to commit any crime or illegal act,’ Jason remarked casually to Oliver Pemberton.
‘Oh,’ Pemberton responded. ‘Surely there is some hope for France. An edict of that nature is surely not without legal technicality and accordingly it could not have been promulgated overnight.’
‘As fortune would have it, the king’s seal ought to have been affixed to the edict yesterday.’
‘What appalling luck,’ Pemberton declared with a smirk. ‘If the French had arrived two days earlier they could have demanded the return of their warships.’
Jason nodded before responding:
‘That is not the worst of it.’
‘Oh do tell.’ Pemberton was enjoying this as much as Jason was.
‘The king is not entitled to have a navy in terms of the 1592 treaty. So as one who must always set an example through his compliance with the law, the king will have to confiscate the ships and then immediately donate them to some other worthy cause in Montuga.’ Jason paused as tried to summon an even more serious expression. ‘If you think carefully, do you supppose you might be able to assist his majesty with a suggestion about a suitable worthy cause in Montuga which might be able to make proper use of three naval frigates?’
‘Well,’ Pemberton said as he slowly scratched his chin. ‘This is not an easy matter at all. But there are rumours doing the rounds about a certain private navy who apparently go around trying to prevent piracy, coups and the like. You will no doubt stop me if I’m being too presumptuous, but I sincerely believe that his majesty might be persuaded that this private navy would constitute the ideal recipient of those frigates.’
‘What a strange coincidence,’ Jason gasped in feigned surprise. ‘As luck would have it, I came up with that precise thought. In fact, I would go so far as to suggest that his majesty could do far worse.’