Tarver's Treasure by Malcolm Archibald

Author:Malcolm Archibald
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781845027827
Publisher: Black & White Publishing
Published: 2014-06-05T16:00:00+00:00

Jack swallowed hard. St Euphemia Bay was hectic with shipping. Carrying a small army, the fleet had arrived and anchored in the swelling waves that splintered on a shingle beach that seemed to extend forever. Dwarfed by the scale of the country, the redcoats waded ashore, some disappearing into the scrubby ground behind the beach. In the far distance, high brown rose to the great blue void of a sky. After so long on the defensive, Britain had extended a nautical finger and poked it in the coast of Europe.

Britain was daring Bonaparte’s hegemony over the Continent, she was planting a trident in strident challenge to the imperial eagle of France, and Jack was part of it. A small, insignificant part, it was true, but here he was, as British as anybody else in the fleet, and as ready to do his bit for constitutional monarchy as John Dover or Commander James Cockburn or any of the cursing redcoats or tobacco-chewing bluejackets who toiled under the broiling Mediterranean sun.

‘Impressive, isn’t it?’ said Dover, motioning to the bay.

Jack agreed. It seemed that half the Mediterranean’s traffic had come to St Euphemia, with merchantmen and transports, warships and coastal craft all competing for space in that wide and warm bay.

Trying to avoid thinking of Bethany and Cockburn, Jack watched the ships unload their cargo onto the wide sands, with boatload after boatload of scarlet-coated infantry nosing ashore, the boats’ oars like the legs of water insects crawling over the blue sea. There were naval officers giving flustered orders, the bellowing of cattle, and sails rising and being lowered in apparent confusion, all against the silent backdrop of Calabria.

‘What’s happening? Is it a full invasion?’ he asked Midshipman Wetherall, who gave another grin.

‘God alone knows, but we’re landing, sure as eggs! You know we’ve held Sicily for years, to make sure that old Boney can’t have it, well, now General Stuart has decided to help the King of the Two Sicilies fight off the French!’

Remembering Sir Alexander’s words, Jack thought of the Knight’s treasure. If Britain had to continue to subsidise King Ferdinand, that wealth was vital. He had to help find the second key, then persuade Bethany to part with the dagger. Although the treasure must be his priority, he was still fascinated by the activity. After all the defeats and withdrawals, after a decade and more of British troops skirting the fringes of Europe and being ingloriously thrust back into the sea, he was watching a British landing on the European mainland.

‘Most of the ships arrived last night,’ Wetherall said, excitedly. ‘Captain Fellowes in the Apollo, that’s the frigate over there’ – a lift of his chin indicated a ship very like the Rowan – ‘had to fire a broadside to clear the beach of Johnny Crapaud.’ He grinned. ‘I believe they were actually Poles fighting for the French, but they scampered off quickly enough at any rate.’ Wetherall shrugged. ‘Somebody said it was the Endymion that fired, but I don’t think so.

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