Touch and Go (16 page)

“It's not a reef, sir. It's more like a building with solid walls still upright under the water.”

“Like a house, you mean?” asked Delancey.

“Well, sir, it put me in mind of St Martin-in-the-Fields at Charing Cross.”

“There are columns, you mean?”

“Pillars, as you might say: all broken, to be sure, but with carving like they have on the stern of an old flagship—foliage and suchlike.”

“Is there just the one building, or are there others?”

“I think there are others, sir, like as if it had been a city. The ship is wedged, seemingly, between two of ‘em.”

“Well done, Wishart.” Delancey walked to the entry and hailed his boat. “My compliments and I should be grateful if Dr Rathbone would come aboard.” When the old scholar had joined him, he asked whether he had heard Wishart's story.

“I have indeed and it's the most amazing thing. It seems to me that this merchantman is wedged in between two Roman buildings, one of them a temple. Heaven knows what other remains of antiquity are around us! We have blundered into Julia Caesarea! I was never so excited in my life. . . . If only I could see below the water!”

“A strange discovery indeed! It happens, unluckily, that my task here is to refloat the
Venturer,
which is going to be problem enough. But I'll do what I can in the pursuit of learning. We'll talk of this again when we are aboard the
Merlin.
I have had an idea!”

There followed a conference on board the sloop at which Delancey explained what had to be done. The crestfallen Gosling was present and Delancey forced himself to be civil. He would need the man's help if the wreck were to be saved.

First, he explained, the
Venturer
would have to be lifted by the “camel” method. The two smaller prizes would be brought alongside her and her cargo mostly transferred to them. When these two craft were deeply laden they would be lashed firmly to the
Venturer.
When thus secured, the two prizes would be unloaded into the third. Empty, they should have buoyancy enough to lift the
Venturer
clear. It would mean hard work for everyone and the task would begin immediately. Part of the ship's cargo would have to be jettisoned—he would be more precise about that after he had seen into her hold.

“A final warning,” he concluded. “The Arabs ashore may have been regarding the
Venturer
as a gift from Allah. The boats withdrew when we came on the scene but they won't regard our salvage work with any favour. If they think that we are succeeding in our efforts they may stage an attack, most probably after dark. So keep an eye on them and have small-arms within reach. We shall row guard from sunset. In the interests of safety, I shall bring the
Merlin
closer to the wreck.

“Mr Mather, you will have charge of the
Merlin
while the rest of us are out of the ship. Mr Gosling, you will command the
Venturer's
crew and you will have Mr Langford's help. Mr Corbin, you will repair the damage to the
Venturer
so far as it is possible. Tell the sailmaker that we shall fother the leak—and tell him what size of sail we shall need; using the
Venturer's
own canvas of course. And tell Isaac Denny to report to me—I have a small task for him, as also for James Wishart. Gentlemen, detail your men, have all boats manned—my gig excepted—and start the work as soon as possible.”

An hour later, the boats having towed the
Merlin
to within two cables' length of the wreck, the sloop was almost deserted and the
Venturer
had become the scene of furious activity. Delancey now turned to Dr Rathbone and said: “And now we'll pay a visit to Julia Caesarea!” His meaning became clear when Denny came up to him with a glass-bottomed wooden box which he had just finished making. “Thank you, Denny. With this device we can see below the surface, cutting out reflections and distortions. Man the gig now and we'll take you to join Mr Corbin aboard the wreck.” The gig was rowed over by Wishart and Delancey's steward.

After Denny had been returned to duty, Delancey said, “Now we'll see what we can see!” He was almost in a holiday mood, directing the oarsmen while he took the tiller himself. “Now, doctor, push the box a little below the surface and tell us what you can see through the glass!” After a brief experiment, Dr Rathbone looked up with a startled expression. “A Roman temple!” he gasped. “A pile of shaped stones but with the pediment clearly visible and the capital of a Corinthian column!”

Having surveyed the position of the
Venturer,
they worked ahead of the ship, where other buildings could be glimpsed in shallower water. One of them looked rather like a gateway with flanking towers. Further to the left was a smaller structure grouped round a courtyard; perhaps a priest's dwelling.

At this point Dr Rathbone came up with a theory which was to prove extremely valuable. “The ship is not wedged, I think, between two buildings. There is a temple with a portico formed by columns and a pediment. The roof has gone but the walls are still there.” Delancey looked puzzled and the old scholar turned to paper and pencil. “Here is the temple, just like a barn but with a detached line of six columns across one end, the columns supporting a pediment, like this. . . . There is no roof now but the pediment remains and the ship is jammed between the pediment and the end of the building.”

“How wide is the gap, then?”

“I don't know. About the length of a tree-trunk.”

“Which is the breadth of a ship. But why is this important, Dr Rathbone?”

“Because while the building may be solid the pediment, unsupported, should yield a little. Given good luck, it would even fall down.”

“I see what you mean. . . . So the ship might wriggle out of the gap.”

Further study through glass showed that Dr Rathbone was right. Then the boat went a little ahead of the
Venturer
and Delancey looked again at the house and courtyard. Glimpsing something of interest, Delancey told Wishart to investigate and the seaman dived again, remaining under water for about a minute.

After his third dive he reported a discovery. He had found a statue in two halves—the statue, he thought, of a child. “How big?” asked Delancey, and Wishart made gestures to indicate a figure about three feet high. “Could you tie a rope to it?” Rathbone asked eagerly. Wishart thought this possible and dived next time with a rope in hand.

He was below for a longer time and surfaced with a gasp and a splutter. “I've bent the rope to his ankle,” he explained at length. Gently and slowly the rope was hauled in, bringing with it the lower half of a nude and male figure, delicately made in what people often call a “late” or “decadent” style. After something of a struggle the other half of the marble boy came to the surface, a flute-player, almost undamaged. “This is incredible,” whispered Dr Rathbone. “But it must be enough for the time being,” replied Delancey. “There is some activity ashore and I don't like the look of it.”

Exactly what was happening ashore was far from obvious. A small crowd of men had gathered round the local fishing boats and some of them were seen to point seawards. Gradually, however, the crowd dispersed again without taking action, perhaps through failure to agree or perhaps—who could tell?—because action had been postponed. Delancey boarded the
Venturer,
sending the gig and its cargo back to the
Merlin.

On board the merchantman, barrels and crates were being swayed up by means of a tackle at each yard-arm. The craft alongside were already lower in the water but the
Venturer
showed no effect of lightening. Delancey asked Mather how the work was going.

“We began well,” Mather answered, “but the sun is hot and the men have begun to tire.”

“We'll stop work for dinner in half an hour. She's still hard aground, I see.”

“Yes, sir. No sign of movement underfoot.”

“There won't be until tomorrow. And I suspect that the Arabs may attack us in the meanwhile.”

“We'll beat them off, sir.”

“No doubt. The trouble is that we can't beat them off and shift cargo at the same time. If they make trouble enough we shall be here forever.”

“We could bombard the village, sir.”

“And have the whole Algerine navy here? No. We may have to buy them off. We could give them some of the ship's provisions: although not the salt-pork.”

“They're welcome to the
Venturer
's provisions or to all I've seen of them. I take it, sir, that we shall not be working after sunset?”

“No, but the watch on duty will be mounting guard.”

Work resumed after dinner and Delancey addressed a few words to the
Venturer
's crew. “I hear that you are not working as hard as my boatswain would like to see. Some of you have pointed out to him that you are not subject to naval discipline. That is perfectly true.” He paused and two or three of the men sniggered. “But when we reach Gibraltar you will be liable to impressment. Once entered on board the
Merlin
you will meet Mr Bailey again. You will find then that you
are
subject to naval discipline. And if you have been listed now as insolent and idle you will have reason to wish that you had never been born. So work now as you have never worked before. If you don't, you'll wish, by God, that you had!”

The men sweated after that but there was much to do. By sunset the
Venturer
's hold was little more than half-empty. Mather called a halt and detailed the boats' crews who would row guard after dark. The rest went thankfully to their hammocks.

The attack when it came was a half-hearted affair. The Arab craft were sighted before they came anywhere near the
Venturer.
When fired upon, they fled, but renewed their efforts within the hour. Watching and listening, Delancey came to the conclusion that the object of the raid—if it could be called that—was merely to keep his men awake. By the small hours he had endured all he was prepared to endure. The firing had died away but he guessed that there would be more trouble at first light. He decided to make his own move first. Sending for Stirling, he told him the situation.

“I have decided to take a hostage. Watching movements ashore I have come to the conclusion that the chief here, the magistrate, whatever he is called, lives in a house to the west side of the landing place and perhaps five hundred yards inland. I could not see the house very well because of the trees on this side of it, but there has been a great deal of coming and going of people in that direction. Our neighbours have disturbed us for half the night and have now gone to bed. So it is our turn to do something. I want you and Topley to take twenty men on shore with Tanner as coxswain, find the town hall or whatever it is, capture the magistrate or mayor and bring him on board the
Merlin
with as little noise as possible. A second captive would be useful, I think. He could be released later and might explain the situation to the rest. So kidnap the town clerk or tipstaff, whoever might serve our purpose. We shall then have something to bargain with. Aim to be back here before daybreak.”

Delancey quietly paced the deck, listening to the dwindling sound of muffled rowlocks. Then all was silent except for the lapping of the water and the faint sound of wind in the rigging.

There was a scent from the land—was it peach or apricot? How recently had he been the one to go ashore on this sort of raid. Now he gave the orders but remained on board the ship, waiting for the report of success or the rattle of musketry which would tell of failure. He would never have believed, as a youngster, that the waiting role was the more difficult. This he had come to know. He also knew, however, that Stirling was reliable and intelligent.

The worst thing that could happen—well, almost the worst—was an assault on the wrong house; the kidnapping of some nonentity or some unpopular character to whose fate the inhabitants were utterly indifferent. But how would the house be recognised? Over two hours had passed that there were the first signs of dawn. Beyond the river Hashem were the hills and beyond them again was the Ras el Amoush. Yes, there was a lightening of the sky in that direction and he could imagine the first stirring of the birds. No shots had been fired, so his boat
must
be returning.

At last he heard the sound of the oars. Then the boat was alongside, with three passengers in the stern-sheets, two of them with the Arab headgear. He made his voice sound casual as he asked Stirling whether all had gone well. There had been no real difficulty, he was told, they had found the house and the only two guards had been asleep. Their chief prisoner was the Alcayde, the other Arab was probably his clerk, the third man a Jewish merchant from Tetuan, who was being held prisoner and who might be useful as an interpreter. No alarm had been raised and nobody had been hurt on either side.

“Well done, Mr Stirling,” said Delancey. “Secure the two Arabs under an armed guard and send the Jew to my day-cabin.”

Ten minutes later he was faced by a small, bearded man with dark skin, bright eyes, aged about fifty and shabbily dressed in black. Tanner and the escort remained outside the cabin door. Delancey's clerk prepared to take notes.

“Who are you?” asked Delancey.

“Isaac Sulman of Tetuan, merchant.”

“Your trade extends to Gibraltar, perhaps?”

“That is how I come to speak English.” Though somewhat ruffled by his unexpected situation, Sulman had a brisk, businesslike manner that inspired confidence.

“Why were you a prisoner?”

“I was here on business and some of the Arabs said that I owed them money,” he made a gesture of resignation. “Anything said against a Jew is always believed.”

“What would have happened to you had we not interfered?”

“I should have promised them some gunpowder. They would have let me go when it came.”