Dennis Wheatley - The wanton princess

On the morning of the 23rd he left Algeciras and by afternoon was riding along the great natural breakwater that enclosed the harbour of Cadiz. Proceeding to the port on the inland curve of the promontory he stabled his horse at an inn on the waterfront called the 'Inca Queen'. He then hired a boat with a steersman and four oarsmen and had himself rowed towards the flagship. She lay about two miles south of the harbour and as the boat carried him towards her he had ample opportunity to take stock of the Allied fleet lying at anchor in the soft evening light.

His boat was about to pass within about sixty yards of a French frigate and his eye was caught by the bright dress of a young woman leaning out from the high stern gallery. Her hair was dressed high in the Spanish manner, rising to a big tortoiseshell comb from which a lace mantilla fell partially covering her plump breasts. He was at once reminded of Georgina, for the woman's features, colouring and form were very similar to hers. But he had no doubt at all that she was some Spanish trollop that the Captain of the frigate had taken aboard to amuse himself with while the fleet was in harbour.

When his boat drew nearer, the woman suddenly began to wave and shout something at them. Taking it as an exhibition of joie de vivre, Roger waved back, then her cries gradually faded as his boatmen pulled on towards the flagship.

As he mounted the gangway, the officer of the watch observed his rank and had him ceremoniously piped aboard where he was received with every courtesy. But it transpired that Admiral Villeneuve was not on board. He had left that morning for Seville—in which city, associated with the ancient 'Board of the Indies', the Spanish Admiralty had its headquarters—to negotiate for further supplies for his fleet, and he was not expected back in Cadiz for several days.

Rcger accepted a glass of Malaga wine from the senior officer on duty, then said that he must proceed to Seville to deliver personally a despatch to the Admiral. As his boat took him back towards the harbour it again passed fairly close to the frigate in which he had seen the woman who resembled Georgina. She was still leaning over the stern gallery, but twilight had now fallen so her features were less distirct. When they came nearer she gave a shout and waved a sheet of white paper to attract their attention. Roger was in no mood for a waterborne flirtation but he returned her hail. As he did so she quickly rolled the piece of paper into a spill, pushed it into an empty bottle, rammed home the cork and threw the bottle as far as she could towards the passing boat.

Now considerably intrigued, Roger had his steersmen alter course until they were within fifty feet of the stern of the frigate; then he retrieved the floating bottle from the slightly choppy water. As he pulled the cork from the bottle neck and fished out the paper, he expected to find that the decidedly attractive Senorita had sent him a note to say that her lover was ashore and inviting him to come aboard to entertain her.

To his utter amazement he read. 'Roger, do you not recog­nize me? I dared not shout in English for fear of giving you away, but I am Georgina. I am held captive by the Captain of this frigate. For God's sake, rescue me.'

27

Napoleon Triumphant

For a few moments Roger was so overcome by mingled sur­prise and joy that his wits refused to work. Then they snapped back with their usual resilience to an unexpected situation.

Three courses were open to him. He could have the boat rowed under the stern of the frigate and tell Georgina to jump for it. But the stern gallery over which she was leaning was a good twenty feet above the water, so that would mean a nasty drop and a chill wind was blowing. When they hauled her aboard she would be soaked to the skin and might catch her death of cold before he could get her to his inn.

Secondly, she could speak a little Spanish; so he could call up to her in that language that he would return after nightfall bringing with him a line to throw her and a rope ladder that she could then haul up, make fast and descend by to the boat. But while it was evident that the man who held her captive was not with her at the moment it was highly pro­bable that he would be during the night. Not only would he prevent her escaping but, perhaps, grab up his pistols and fire down upon her defenceless would-be rescuer.

The third course was to go boldly on board right away and claim her. And that Roger decided to do.

In his hailing Spanish he called to Georgina, 'I am coming for you, Senorita. Get your things together quickly.' Then he said to the owner of the boat, 'That Senorita is an old friend of mind. She is being held on the ship against her will. Steer along to the gangway.'

As usual with ships in port for some time, instead of a rope ladder slung over the side, a flight of wooden steps had been rigged from her deck down to a platform a few feet above the level of the water. Much amused by this romantic encounter, the grinning sailors brought the boat alongside the platform and Roger jumped on to it.

Taking the wooden steps three at a time he mounted to the quarter deck. As the ship was in port only a skeleton watch was being maintained. Except for two seamen sitting on coils of rope smoking their long pipes at the entrance to the fo'c'sle no one was about, but at the sound of Roger's footsteps a young Lieutenant emerged from the after deck house. Saluting Roger politely he asked his business.

'I am here,' said Roger, 'to see the Scnorita in the Cap­tain's quarters.'

The Lieutenant looked startled and exclaimed, 'I... I fear that is not possible, Monsieur le Colonel. Nobody is allowed to see her without Captain Fournier's permission, and he is ashore.'

'I require nobody's permission,' returned Roger sharply. 'Come! Be good enough to take me to her.'

'But . . . but, monsieur le Colonel! stammered the lieu­tenant. 'I am under orders. The lady is English. She... she is a captive and held incommunicado.'

'Of that I am aware, as also are the authorities who sent mc here.' Roger's blue eyes flashed as he added with a sneer, 'And since when did Frenchmen make war on women?'

The young man reddened. 'Please believe I am in no way responsible. But I have my orders. I cannot disobey them.'

'That I appreciate. However, by making your protest you have done your duty. I will go find her for myself.' Turning on his heel Roger walked briskly towards the entrance under the poop that led to the ship's stern cabin.

Now sweating slightly with apprehension, the Lieutenant hurried after him and cried, "Monsieur le Colonel, will you not wait until Captain Fournier comes aboard? He is due back now, so should be here quite shortly. Wait and discuss this with him, I beg; otherwise I'll find myself in most grievous trouble.'

Ignoring the plea Roger, strode down the passage until he reached a door at the end which obviously gave on to the big stateroom. Seizing the handle of the door he rattled it, but it was locked. The noise he made brought a big, broad-shouldered man out of a nearby galley. A glance at the kit he was wearing led Roger to judge that he was the Captain's steward and he snapped:

'Where is the key to this door? Get it at once.'

The steward gave him a surly look then glanced at the Lieutenant, who quavered, 'Monsieur le Colonel, we have our orders.'

'To hell with your orders! Refuse me the key and I'll kick the door in.' Roger drew back a pace as though about to raise his heavily-booted foot.

'These quarters is private,' said the steward aggressively. 'An' 'tis my job to see as no one enters 'em in Capn's absence.' Then he moved to step in front of Roger.

Drawing himself up, Roger said harshly, 'You know my rank. Observe also my sash. It is that of an A.D.C. to the Emperor. Lay a hand on me or endeavour to prevent mc from entering this stateroom and by God you'll rue it. I'll have you sent to the galleys. Now, give me the key.'