Cutthroats of the Coast

Chapter 20 - Old Mother Da Silva Exerts Her Authority

As it turned out, Morgan had sent Mandrake ashore further down the coast towards Ksar-es-Seghir - a fishing village half a day's ride to the west that the Portuguese had long since abandoned. This small party's purpose was to infiltrate Tangier from the landward side. Mandrake was to head this shore party in case Solomon Jones required some form of succour if the plan to liberate the Treasury of its contents went awry. They had been assisted in this task by old acquaintances in the port itself, like Da Silva, as well as some old friends among the Barbary Corsairs who masqueraded as local traders in order to keep an eye on the garrison.

Apparently, in case of some catastrophe, Solomon Jones was to have directed the shore party to Da Silva's residence, whereupon the cunning Portuguese was under instructions to conceal us and make good our escape. Fortune had smiled upon us when we had unwittingly found our way to his house.

Yet Jones had disappeared.

And so had the cart.

Whilst we had sweated bullets, concealed in Da Silva's root cellar, the girls had been about the town gathering such information on the night's events as their bountiful charms could inveigle.

The skirmish in the lane that we had escaped from was still a scene of confusion and devastation. Jones' grenados had proved most effective. Many men of the garrison had been killed or wounded. A house had burned to ashes, along with its residents. This had drawn the crowds who gawped at the dead and shook their heads. Maira and Natalia had aroused little suspicion mingling with the people of the town since it was only expected that they would be there.

It appeared that in the smoke and confusion, Jones had somehow spirited the cart away. He was known to the girls, and his body was not with those of our party who had been struck down. Those poor fellows were available for all to see; their cadavers swung beneath gibbets in the marketplace. Poor Two Tusks was subjected to the indignity of having his teeth pulled by the Town's Executioner and sold to the gleeful mob.

Now Mandrake was seething like a pot on the fire. He railed at Jack and Ramsbottom, his face flushing beneath the white lead of a lady's face paint, “What were you two fucking slack-arses thinking letting Jones run off like that? The man's mad and has been for years! Morgan had you come, Jack, because he thought you were a steady man!”

Rather than quail before this tirade, Jack simply folded his arms. “You weren't there, Mandrake, and if you were you'd have shit your breeches, if you were wearing any. It was a damned mess.”

“A mess you say? Of course it was a fucking mess, you daft cunny! Of course it was a mess because we haven't got the fucking money!” He pulled at the bodice of is dress. “And don't think that I'm wearing this out of choice. This was Morgan's idea to get me past the gates!”

“Well it suits you. You've never looked better. Get me drunk enough and I'd fuck you!” Jack said, then added wearily ” We were trapped! The Governor knew who we were and what we were about. We were sold out. Someone blabbed!”

Ramsbottom, Da Silva, Mandrake, Jack, the girls all turned their faces to Nathaniel, who had remained quiet through this. He blinked a couple of times, then realised what their staring implied.

“What? No! Absolutely not! I am true to this enterprise! You cannot possibly believe that of me!”

Mandrake's mouth twisted into a sneer, his fleshy jowls quivering. “Of course, how I do forget! Our inside man, Mr Broadbank. How would Governor Cholmeley know of our plans? How remiss of me not to think of the one man who has the Governor's confidence – his own secretary!” A pointed, pink tongue darted from his mouth and licked the corner of his lips. His eyes glittered like beads.