Julian Stockwin - Victory

‘Ioannis Capodistrias. I’m Ionian but count myself Greek, sir, in this island which is nominally Turk, garrisoned by Russia and lately occupied by France. In the article of ruling therefore we naturally compromise on the laws and usages of Venice, which we do all accept.’

Kydd hid a smile and glanced to the aristocratic Curzon, languidly at home in surroundings such as these – ‘Yes, well, you have a new Tsar, I understand. Alexander? All hail to His Imperial Majesty, of course, and I’m privileged to claim your Count Nikita Panin as one of my closer friends. He and I—’

‘The graf Nikita Petrovich Panin, who was one of the assassins of His Imperial Majesty’s father, the Tsar Paul?’

‘Oh! Er, I had no idea—’

‘And who, nevertheless, is now Chancellor of the Russian Empire?’

Kydd looked about to see how Renzi was coping but couldn’t catch sight of him in the animated throng. He leaned forward politely to hear the laboured English of yet another young officer about to make acquaintance of one of the legendary Nelson’s captains.

Renzi was enthralled to be hearing about the life of a Dnieper Cossack in passionate French from a heavily bearded cavalryman and did not want to be distracted.

‘Sir, this is of the utmost importance!’ a man behind him whispered again, plucking at his sleeve. ‘You must hear me.’

The burly officer seemed not to notice and rumbled on, a faraway look in his eyes. Renzi threw an angry glare at the little man in thick spectacles but it did not deter him. Renzi rounded on him and demanded to know what it was that could not wait.

‘Sir – in private, if you understand,’ the man said, shifting uncomfortably.

Renzi weighed the loss of the intriguing conversation against the possibility that some problem was affecting their presence. ‘Very well, sir. One moment . . .’ He made his apologies to the officer and reluctantly followed the man out into the garden.

‘I do beg pardon for my intrusion, sir. Were it not a business so urgent . . .’

‘What is it you want, sir?’

‘I have heard you are the secretary of the English frigate?’

‘I am Renzi, the captain’s confidential secretary, sir.’

‘Then it is in you I must trust. I am Gospodin Mikhail Orlov, a merchant venturer of Odessa. I have interests in . . . these parts and—’

‘Sir, I fail to see how one of His Majesty’s ships of war can possibly be of service to one of – to yourself, Mr Orlov.’

‘You don’t? Then answer me this, Mr Renzi – your grand commander Nelson pines after timber and spars, tar and canvas, does he not?’

To one desperate to maintain a worn-out squadron at sea indefinitely in the worst of weathers, ‘pines’ would not be too strong a word, Renzi allowed without comment.

‘And do you not consider he would be interested in a sizeable and reliable supply of such, and at a price half that of the best the Baltic offers?’

‘Are you referring to Panormo in Crete, Mr Orlov?’

‘No, sir,’ Orlov said, with conviction, ‘I talk real quantity, to fit out the greatest fleet there ever was.’

‘And, er, where might this cornucopia be found, sir?’

‘This is my difficulty,’ Orlov said quietly. ‘I am recently in possession of information of a . . . a sensitive nature, which will very shortly transform my country. I will not hide it from you – it will confer immense commercial advantage on any possessor who moves quickly and with sagacity.’

Renzi looked pointedly at his fob-watch. ‘Sir, I cannot see how this can be of any—’

‘It will in one stroke free your navy in Malta from any dependence on the Baltic trade, which you now daily risk past the Danes, the Swedes and others who would deny you.’

‘Pray tell me, Mr Orlov, what is it you wish us to do?’

‘A simple request, Mr Renzi. That I take immediate passage on your fine frigate to Smyrna.’

‘That may not be possible, sir. I cannot speak for Captain Kydd but it would seem our business is in the Adriatic, not—’

‘Sir, I feel you have not grasped fully the significance of what I offer. I have been open with you, that it will be of profit to myself, but this can only be if your great Nelson has his sea stores. There is no risk attached to yourselves.’

‘Mr Orlov. I cannot recommend this to the captain unless the business is made clear. The motions of one of His Majesty’s ships are not to be commanded by others.’

‘We have so little time. I simply ask—’

‘The business, sir!’

Orlov’s face took on a hunted look. ‘Very well. What I am about to tell you is in the strictest confidence. The information is not necessarily available to the Ionian administration, um, at the present time.’

‘I understand, Mr Orlov. You have my word on it.’

‘It is an internal matter, of interest to the Russian peoples alone, that His Imperial Majesty is shortly to open up the canal of Tsar Peter the Great between the Volga and Don rivers.’ At Renzi’s blank expression he explained, ‘This will mean vessels may at last navigate from the Caspian to the Black Sea and then to the Mediterranean, opening up the whole interior. Unlimited resources of timber and flax, metals and tar – it is a prize of incalculable value, Mr Renzi.’

‘And your interest in this?’

‘The concessions. These are of two kinds – in Russia, trading rights from the pokhodnii ataman ruler, the other, right of passage from the Sublime Porte of Constantinople. Either is useless on its own. Securing both confers on the holder a monopoly of trade.’

‘Naturally, you wish for this honour.’

Orlov looked up with a bitter smile. ‘Sir, neither the ataman nor the Sultan cares for commerce. Their interest is in the regular exaction of cash from this same flowing trade, much more reliably acquired from a single source.

‘Since you will ask it, I will tell you that the French will have heard of this opportunity and will be moving quickly to secure the rights and thereby exclude you. And, be assured, these will go to the first to make cause – your Sultan ally will never argue with ready gold.’

Renzi could see that if it was true they would be in a position to relieve Nelson of a great deal of worry in his task of keeping his fleet at sea. If it was a fantasy, their protective patrol would in any event include the rich Smyrna trading route and Orlov had asked for no other commitment. ‘One thing, Mr Orlov. Why an English frigate?’

‘That when we arrive in Smyrna, the Pasha may see that I have the trust of the British and that by this he may see as well you still rule the seas,’ Orlov said.

‘And in matters of discretion your movements will never be known to your countrymen.’

‘Just so.’

‘I will speak with the captain this night. How might we get word to you?’

Kydd listened gravely to Renzi. ‘There’s only one course open to us, Nicholas. We must speak with Foresti.’

‘I’ve thought of that, dear fellow. Unfortunately he has left for Cephalonia and will not return these next few weeks.’

‘And then it’ll be too late. I do believe I’ll take a chance with this gentleman, merchant or whoever. Put him down in the books as the captain’s guest and we’ll take a surprise cruise around the Morea to Smyrna. If nothing else it will tell our privateers that L’Aurore is about and hunting.’

Chapter 8

The crisp south-westerly could not have been more welcome for the voyage to the furthest corner of the Mediterranean. Kydd’s conscience at this happy prospect was eased by the sight of suspicious sail scuttling out of sight at the sudden presence of such unchallengeable might in their waters.