Free Betrayal by Julian Stockwin Page B

probably see it sue for peace, and, of course, an immeasurable increase in trade opportunities once the continent is thrown open to England’s merchants.’
    He had Kydd’s complete attention. Strategy and chance were coinciding for truly global stakes.
    Popham continued: ‘At some length I argued Miranda’s case in a secret memorandum to Billy Pitt, who took it seriously and even told the Admiralty to work up an expedition to assist – this was about the time of Fulton’s torpedoes, so if I appeared a little distracted at the time, I do apologise.’
    ‘Not as ever I noticed,’ Kydd replied carefully.
    ‘Then Villeneuve sailed and the Trafalgar campaign began. We were stripped of ships and unable to sail, and when we did – well, it was to the more direct goal, Cape Town, and, successful, here we remain.’
    ‘So, no expedition.’
    ‘Unhappily, no. And do be discreet in what you say, old fellow. The Spanish suspect there is some villainy afoot but can’t fathom from where.’
    Kydd nodded. ‘But surely, with both the Spanish and French driven from the seas and not to be counted on to interfere, now is the best time to move.’
    ‘Quite.’
    ‘So, Miranda . . .’
    Popham shook his head. ‘A shameful thing, I must own. Despairing that we will ever get another expedition together, he is proceeding on his own. His letter coldly informs me that he is shortly to descend on Caracas, the chief town in the north of the continent, there to raise the flag of revolution and independence for all the peoples of South America.’
    ‘And we do nothing?’
    ‘The plan called for us to move simultaneously against the viceroyalty of the River Plate in the south, Montevideo or wherever but . . .’
    ‘This is hard to take,’ Kydd growled. ‘Such a blow as will ring out around the world! Does not Whitehall see this? Have you had any kind of word?’
    Popham gave a tired smile. ‘Pitt was not well when we sailed on this Cape venture. Conceivably he’s distracted by the news of Austerlitz.’
    ‘We don’t know that.’ Kydd had only recently heard of it: a land battle in some benighted place to the east, where Bonaparte had crushed the armies of both the Austrian and Russian emperors in a titanic battle. Most opinion had it that the Third Coalition, an alliance including Austria, Prussia, England, Russia and Sweden, was as good as destroyed.
    Popham downed the rest of his wine. ‘If there are any designs to move against the River Plate we should be the first to know of it – we are the closest and the forces we employed on this expedition can only be said to be in idleness.’
    ‘But you’ve had no word?’
    Popham shook his head.
    The next afternoon Kydd insisted Renzi dine at his club and they went ashore together. As they left the old jetty for the noisome waterfront, Renzi stopped. ‘Er, there’s someone I’d rather not meet,’ he muttered, and turned about.
    ‘Wha—?’ At the end of the lane a distinguished-looking man was directing others in some sort of inventory, then Kydd recognised him. ‘It’s only your old fiscal, Ryneveld,’ he chided, knowing, however, that while Renzi had been colonial secretary this man had been his immediate subordinate. Now he was at an impossibly lofty eminence in government.
    ‘You can’t avoid him for ever, Nicholas,’ he said, and hailed the man. ‘Mr Fiscal, ahoy!’
    Ryneveld came hurrying over. ‘Why, the Jonkheer Renzi,’ he said, with disarming warmth. ‘Since leaving your position you’ve been so engaged in your studies you’ve been neglecting your friends, sir.’
    Renzi gave a stiff bow. ‘I stand accused and can only plead guilty, Schildknaap Ryneveld.’
    ‘Well, that’s a matter that can easily be remedied. Let me see . . . As it happens, my wife Barbetjie – whom you know, of course – is taking the girls up to the top of Table Mountain for an artistic expedition while the weather allows. Should you feel inclined, you two gentlemen would be