Having crossed the Caribbean in the teeth of contrary winds, it was not
until the early days of April that the French fleet hove in sight of
Cartagena, and M. de Rivarol summoned a council aboard his flagship to
determine the method of assault.
“It is of importance, messieurs,” he told them, “that we take the city
by surprise, not only before it can put itself into a state of defence;
but before it can remove its treasures inland. I propose to land a
force sufficient to achieve this to the north of the city to-night after
dark.” And he explained in detail the scheme upon which his wits had
laboured.
He was heard respectfully and approvingly by his officers, scornfully
by Captain Blood, and indifferently by the other buccaneer captains
present. For it must be understood that Blood's refusal to attend
councils had related only to those concerned with determining the nature
of the enterprise to be undertaken.
Captain Blood was the only one amongst them who knew exactly what lay
ahead. Two years ago he had himself considered a raid upon the place,
and he had actually made a survey of it in circumstances which he was
presently to disclose.
The Baron's proposal was one to be expected from a commander whose
knowledge of Cartagena was only such as might be derived from maps.
Geographically and strategically considered, it is a curious place. It
stands almost four-square, screened east and north by hills, and it
may be said to face south upon the inner of two harbours by which it
is normally approached. The entrance to the outer harbour, which is in
reality a lagoon some three miles across, lies through a neck known as
the Boca Chica--or Little Mouth--and defended by a fort. A long strip of
densely wooded land to westward acts here as a natural breakwater, and
as the inner harbour is approached, another strip of land thrusts across
at right angles from the first, towards the mainland on the east. Just
short of this it ceases, leaving a deep but very narrow channel, a
veritable gateway, into the secure and sheltered inner harbour. Another
fort defends this second passage. East and north of Cartagena lies
the mainland, which may be left out of account. But to the west and
northwest this city, so well guarded on every other side, lies directly
open to the sea. It stands back beyond a half-mile of beach, and besides
this and the stout Walls which fortify it, would appear to have no other
defences. But those appearances are deceptive, and they had utterly
deceived M. de Rivarol, when he devised his plan.
It remained for Captain Blood to explain the difficulties when M. de
Rivarol informed him that the honour of opening the assault in the
manner which he prescribed was to be accorded to the buccaneers.
Captain Blood smiled sardonic appreciation of the honour reserved
for his men. It was precisely what he would have expected. For the
buccaneers the dangers; for M. de Rivarol the honour, glory and profit
of the enterprise.
“It is an honour which I must decline,” said he quite coldly.
Wolverstone grunted approval and Hagthorpe nodded. Yberville, who
as much as any of them resented the superciliousness of his noble
compatriot, never wavered in loyalty to Captain Blood. The French
officers--there were six of them present--stared their haughty surprise
at the buccaneer leader, whilst the Baron challengingly fired a question
at him.
“How? You decline it, 'sir? You decline to obey orders, do you say?”
“I understood, M. le Baron, that you summoned us to deliberate upon the
means to be adopted.”
“Then you understood amiss, M. le Capitaine. You are here to receive
my commands. I have already deliberated, and I have decided. I hope you
understand.”
“Oh, I understand,” laughed Blood. “But, I ask myself, do you?” And
without giving the Baron time to set the angry question that was
bubbling to his lips, he swept on: “You have deliberated, you say, and
you have decided. But unless your decision rests upon a wish to destroy
my buccaneers, you will alter it when I tell you something of which
I have knowledge. This city of Cartagena looks very vulnerable on
the northern side, all open to the sea as it apparently stands. Ask
yourself, M. le Baron, how came the Spaniards who built it where it is
to have been at such trouble to fortify it to the south, if from the
north it is so easily assailable.”
That gave M. de Rivarol pause.
“The Spaniards,” Blood pursued, “are not quite the fools you are
supposing them. Let me tell you, messieurs, that two years ago I made a
survey of Cartagena as a preliminary to raiding it. I came hither with
some friendly trading Indians, myself disguised as an Indian, and in
that guise I spent a week in the city and studied carefully all its
approaches. On the side of the sea where it looks so temptingly open to
assault, there is shoal water for over half a mile out--far enough out,
I assure you, to ensure that no ship shall come within bombarding range
of it. It is not safe to venture nearer land than three quarters of a
mile.”
“But our landing will be effected in canoes and piraguas and open
boats,” cried an officer impatiently.
“In the calmest season of the year, the surf will hinder any such
operation. And you will also bear in mind that if landing were possible
as you are suggesting, that landing could not be covered by the ships'
guns. In fact, it is the landing parties would be in danger from their
own artillery.”
“If the attack is made by night, as I propose, covering will be
unnecessary. You should be ashore in force before the Spaniards are
aware of the intent.”
“You are assuming that Cartagena is a city of the blind, that at this
very moment they are not conning our sails and asking themselves who we
are and what we intend.”
“But if they feel themselves secure from the north, as you suggest,”
cried the Baron impatiently, “that very security will lull them.”
“Perhaps. But, then, they are secure. Any attempt to land on this side
is doomed to failure at the hands of Nature.”
“Nevertheless, we make the attempt,” said the obstinate Baron, whose
haughtiness would not allow him to yield before his officers.
“If you still choose to do so after what I have said, you are, of
course, the person to decide. But I do not lead my men into fruitless
danger.”
“If I command you...” the Baron was beginning. But Blood unceremoniously
interrupted him.
“M. le Baron, when M. de Cussy engaged us on your behalf, it was as much
on account of our knowledge and experience of this class of warfare
as on account of our strength. I have placed my own knowledge and
experience in this particular matter at your disposal. I will add that
I abandoned my own project of raiding Cartagena, not being in sufficient
strength at the time to force the entrance of the harbour, which is the
only way into the city. The strength which you now command is ample for
that purpose.”
“But whilst we are doing that, the Spaniards will have time to
remove great part of the wealth this city holds. We must take them by
surprise.”
Captain Blood shrugged. “If this is a mere pirating raid, that, of
course, is a prime consideration. It was with me. But if you are
concerned to abate the pride of Spain and plant the Lilies of France
on the forts of this settlement, the loss of some treasure should not
really weigh for much.”
M. de Rivarol bit his lip in chagrin. His gloomy eye smouldered as it
considered the self-contained buccaneer.
“But if I command you to go--to make the attempt?” he asked. “Answer me,
monsieur, let us know once for all where we stand, and who commands this
expedition.”
“Positively, I find you tiresome,” said Captain Blood, and he swung to
M. de Cussy, who sat there gnawing his lip, intensely uncomfortable. “I
appeal to you, monsieur, to justify me to the General.”
M. de Cussy started out of his gloomy abstraction. He cleared his
throat. He was extremely nervous.
“In view of what Captain Blood has submitted....”
“Oh, to the devil with that!” snapped Rivarol. “It seems that I am
followed by poltroons. Look you, M. le Capitaine, since you are afraid
to undertake this thing, I will myself undertake it. The weather is
calm, and I count upon making good my landing. If I do so, I shall have
proved you wrong, and I shall have a word to say to you to-morrow which
you may not like. I am being very generous with you, sir.” He waved his
hand regally. “You have leave to go.”
It was sheer obstinacy and empty pride that drove him, and he received
the lesson he deserved. The fleet stood in during the afternoon to
within a mile of the coast, and under cover of darkness three hundred
men, of whom two hundred were negroes--the whole of the negro contingent
having been pressed into the undertaking--were pulled away for the shore
in the canoes, piraguas, and ships' boats. Rivarol's pride compelled
him, however much he may have disliked the venture, to lead them in
person.
The first six boats were caught in the surf, and pounded into fragments
before their occupants could extricate themselves. The thunder of the
breakers and the cries of the shipwrecked warned those who followed,
and thereby saved them from sharing the same fate. By the Baron's urgent
orders they pulled away again out of danger, and stood about to pick
up such survivors as contrived to battle towards them. Close upon fifty
lives were lost in the adventure, together with half-a-dozen boats
stored with ammunition and light guns.
The Baron went back to his flagship an infuriated, but by no means a
wiser man. Wisdom--not even the pungent wisdom experience thrusts upon
us--is not for such as M. de Rivarol. His anger embraced all things, but
focussed chiefly upon Captain Blood. In some warped process of reasoning
he held the buccaneer chiefly responsible for this misadventure. He went
to bed considering furiously what he should say to Captain Blood upon
the morrow.
He was awakened at dawn by the rolling thunder of guns. Emerging upon
the poop in nightcap and slippers, he beheld a sight that increased his
unreasonable and unreasoning fury. The four buccaneer ships under canvas
were going through extraordinary manoeuvre half a mile off the Boca
Chica and little more than half a mile away from the remainder of the
fleet, and from their flanks flame and smoke were belching each time
they swung broadside to the great round fort that guarded that narrow
entrance. The fort was returning the fire vigorously and viciously. But
the buccaneers timed their broadsides with extraordinary judgment to
catch the defending ordnance reloading; then as they drew the Spaniards'
fire, they swung away again not only taking care to be ever moving
targets, but, further, to present no more than bow or stern to the fort,
their masts in line, when the heaviest cannonades were to be expected.
Gibbering and cursing, M. de Rivarol stood there and watched this
action, so presumptuously undertaken by Blood on his own responsibility.
The officers of the Victorieuse crowded round him, but it was not until
M. de Cussy came to join the group that he opened the sluices of his
rage. And M. de Cussy himself invited the deluge that now caught him.
He had come up rubbing his hands and taking a proper satisfaction in the
energy of the men whom he had enlisted.
“Aha, M. de Rivarol!” he laughed. “He understands his business, eh,
this Captain Blood. He'll plant the Lilies of France on that fort before
breakfast.”
The Baron swung upon him snarling. “He understands his business, eh? His
business, let me tell you, M. de Cussy, is to obey my orders, and I have
not ordered this. Par la Mordieu! When this is over I'll deal with him
for his damned insubordination.”
“Surely, M. le Baron, he will have justified it if he succeeds.”
“Justified it! Ah, parbleu! Can a soldier ever justify acting without
orders?” He raved on furiously, his officers supporting him out of their
detestation of Captain Blood.
Meanwhile the fight went merrily on. The fort was suffering badly. Yet
for all their manoeuvring the buccaneers were not escaping punishment.
The starboard gunwale of the Atropos had been hammered into splinters,
and a shot had caught her astern in the coach. The Elizabeth was badly
battered about the forecastle, and the Arabella's maintop had been
shot away, whilst' towards the end of that engagement the Lachesis came
reeling out of the fight with a shattered rudder, steering herself by
sweeps.
The absurd Baron's fierce eyes positively gleamed with satisfaction.
“I pray Heaven they may sink all his infernal ships!” he cried in his
frenzy.
But Heaven didn't hear him. Scarcely had he spoken than there was a
terrific explosion, and half the fort went up in fragments. A lucky shot
from the buccaneers had found the powder magazine.
It may have been a couple of hours later, when Captain Blood, as
spruce and cool as if he had just come from a levee, stepped upon the
quarter-deck of the Victoriense, to confront M. de Rivarol, still in
bedgown and nightcap.
“I have to report, M. le Baron, that we are in possession of the fort
on Boca Chica. The standard of France is flying from what remains of its
tower, and the way into the outer harbour is open to your fleet.”
M. de Rivarol was compelled to swallow his fury, though it choked
him. The jubilation among his officers had been such that he could not
continue as he had begun. Yet his eyes were malevolent, his face pale
with anger.
“You are fortunate, M. Blood, that you succeeded,” he said. “It would
have gone very ill with you had you failed. Another time be so good as
to await my orders, lest you should afterwards lack the justification
which your good fortune has procured you this morning.”
Blood smiled with a flash of white teeth, and bowed. “I shall be glad of
your orders now, General, for pursuing our advantage. You realize that
speed in striking is the first essential.”
Rivarol was left gaping a moment. Absorbed in his ridiculous anger, he
had considered nothing. But he made a quick recovery. “To my cabin, if
you please,” he commanded peremptorily, and was turning to lead the way,
when Blood arrested him.
“With submission, my General, we shall be better here. You behold there
the scene of our coming action. It is spread before you like a map.”
He waved his hand towards the lagoon, the country flanking it and
the considerable city standing back from the beach. “If it is not a
presumption in me to offer a suggestion....” He paused. M. de Rivarol
looked at him sharply, suspecting irony. But the swarthy face was bland,
the keen eyes steady.
“Let us hear your suggestion,” he consented.
Blood pointed out the fort at the mouth of the inner harbour, which was
just barely visible above the waving palms on the intervening tongue of
land. He announced that its armament was less formidable than that
of the outer fort, which they had reduced; but on the other hand, the
passage was very much narrower than the Boca Chica, and before they
could attempt to make it in any case, they must dispose of those
defences. He proposed that the French ships should enter the outer
harbour, and proceed at once to bombardment. Meanwhile, he would land
three hundred buccaneers and some artillery on the eastern side of the
lagoon, beyond the fragrant garden islands dense with richly bearing
fruit-trees, and proceed simultaneously to storm the fort in the rear.
Thus beset on both sides at once, and demoralized by the fate of the
much stronger outer fort, he did not think the Spaniards would offer a
very long resistance. Then it would be for M. de Rivarol to garrison the
fort, whilst Captain Blood would sweep on with his men, and seize
the Church of Nuestra Senora de la Poupa, plainly visible on its hill
immediately eastward of the town. Not only did that eminence afford them
a valuable and obvious strategic advantage, but it commanded the only
road that led from Cartagena to the interior, and once it were held
there would be no further question of the Spaniards attempting to remove
the wealth of the city.
That to M. de Rivarol was--as Captain Blood had judged that it would
be--the crowning argument. Supercilious until that moment, and disposed
for his own pride's sake to treat the buccaneer's suggestions with
cavalier criticism, M. de Rivarol's manner suddenly changed. He became
alert and brisk, went so far as tolerantly to commend Captain Blood's
plan, and issued orders that action might be taken upon it at once.
It is not necessary to follow that action step by step. Blunders on
the part of the French marred its smooth execution, and the indifferent
handling of their ships led to the sinking of two of them in the course
of the afternoon by the fort's gunfire. But by evening, owing largely to
the irresistible fury with which the buccaneers stormed the place from
the landward side, the fort had surrendered, and before dusk Blood and
his men with some ordnance hauled thither by mules dominated the city
from the heights of Nuestra Senora de la Poupa.
At noon on the morrow, shorn of defences and threatened with
bombardment, Cartagena sent offers of surrender to M. de Rivarol.
Swollen with pride by a victory for which he took the entire credit
to himself, the Baron dictated his terms. He demanded that all public
effects and office accounts be delivered up; that the merchants
surrender all moneys and goods held by them for their correspondents;
the inhabitants could choose whether they would remain in the city or
depart; but those who went must first deliver up all their property, and
those who elected to remain must surrender half, and become the subjects
of France; religious houses and churches should be spared, but they must
render accounts of all moneys and valuables in their possession.
Cartagena agreed, having no choice in the matter, and on the next
day, which was the 5th of April, M. de Rivarol entered the city and
proclaimed it now a French colony, appointing M. de Cussy its Governor.
Thereafter he proceeded to the Cathedral, where very properly a Te Deum
was sung in honour of the conquest. This by way of grace, whereafter M.
de Rivarol proceeded to devour the city. The only detail in which the
French conquest of Cartagena differed from an ordinary buccaneering raid
was that under the severest penalties no soldier was to enter the
house of any inhabitant. But this apparent respect for the persons and
property of the conquered was based in reality upon M. de Rivarol's
anxiety lest a doubloon should be abstracted from all the wealth that
was pouring into the treasury opened by the Baron in the name of the
King of France. Once the golden stream had ceased, he removed all
restrictions and left the city in prey to his men, who proceeded further
to pillage it of that part of their property which the inhabitants who
became French subjects had been assured should remain inviolate. The
plunder was enormous. In the course of four days over a hundred mules
laden with gold went out of the city and down to the boats waiting at
the beach to convey the treasure aboard the ships.