Evil in a Mask (39 page)

Having sent in his name, with a message to the effect that he had a communication of some interest to make, Roger was informed by a secretary that His Excellency would receive him at six o'clock the following evening.

Never before having been in the Portuguese capital, Roger spent the next day first driving round the city, then entering into casual conversation with several people in the parlour of his inn. All of them were aware that the future of their country had again become precarious; but none of them yet knew that Napoleon had already launched an army for its conquest. Having during the past six years been menaced by France and Spain on several occasions and nothing having come of it, the general opinion of the Portuguese was that the present crisis would also blow over.

Roger found them pro-British to a man. Portugal's most valuable export was the port wine from Oporto, at the mouth of the Douro, the second largest city in Portugal, and almost an English colony. In Lisbon, too, there was a whole section of the city known as Buenos Aires, in which lived hundreds of British merchants.

The British were also far more numerous and popular in
Portuguese society than the wealthy of any other nation. For many years the genial Prince Augustus, Duke of Sussex, had wintered in Portugal and many English nobles had villas there.

That evening Roger was received by Lord Strangford. The diplomat's age was then twenty-seven. He was a handsome man, whose aquiline nose, firm, thin-lipped mouth and cleft chin gave him the appearance of a born aristocrat. His hair was red, and his eyes bright blue, but set rather too close together. It was evident that he had a very high opinion of himself, and Roger was not favourably impressed by his lazy and rather pompous manner.

Having made his bow, Roger said, ‘Normally, I would not have troubled Your Lordship by requesting an interview; but have only left my name as a British subject who has arrived in Lisbon. However, I have come from Madrid, and felt that it might interest you to know the present situation there.'

‘Indeed,' the Minister replied a shade coldly. ‘That was good of you, Mr. Brook. But I am extremely busy, and if it is only gossip that you have picked up, I doubt if it could be of much value to me.'

Roger's object in securing an interview was to find out what was going on in Portugal's highest circles; so, instead of showing resentment at this snub, he smiled and said:

‘Would Your Lordship regard it as mere gossip if I stated that on October 27th a treaty was signed at Fontainebleau by which, in return for the southern part of Portugal as a kingdom, the Prince of Peace has sold out his country; and that General Junot, with an army of thirty thousand men, has already crossed the Pyrenees on his march to Lisbon?'

Strangford's bright eyes opened wide in surprise. ‘How in heaven's name, did you come to learn of this in Madrid, days, nay a week ago, when I had news of it only this morning?'

Roger shrugged. ‘Since I was a youth I have spent at least half my time travelling on the Continent. During those years I have made the acquaintance of Kings and Ministers. In Madrid, as in numerous other capitals, I have old friends who, at times, tell me things that they should keep secret. I
also have powerful friends in England, Mr. Canning among them.'

The Minister's attitude underwent a sudden change. ‘You must forgive me, Mr. Brook, for having underrated the information you may be able to give me. I should be glad to have it. Be pleased to take a chair.'

Sitting down, Roger gave an account of all that he had gathered in Madrid: the universal hatred of Godoy, the abortive conspiracy of Prince Ferdinand to usurp his father's throne, the reluctance of the Spaniards to be forced into going to war again, and numerous other matters that might influence Spanish policy.

When he had done, as he had hoped would be the case, Strangford began to talk freely of the situation with him. Heaving a sigh the Minister said:

‘At the moment I find my position here one of the utmost difficulty. On account of my knowledge of Portuguese, I was sent out in 1802 as First Secretary to the Legation. In 1806, I was promoted to Minister Plenipotentiary. The Portuguese received me most kindly and have a high opinion of me. No diplomat could have occupied a more congenial post, but for one thing—his dealings with the royal family.

‘As you must know, Queen Maria is completely mad. Her heir, Don Joao, Prince of Brazil, took over the reins of government from her in 1792, and formally became Prince Regent in ‘99. But he is nearly as mad as his mother. He is only thirty-eight, yet as timid, irresolute and as incapable of standing up to any threat as would be a palsied old man of eighty.

‘For years past he has hovered and wavered under pressure from France and Britain, upon which side to come down. If only he would make a firm decision, we would know where we are, and could act accordingly. The certainty that, when less occupied with more important matters, Bonaparte would invade Portugal and push him off his throne, has led us to urge him, time and again, to retain his sovereignty by withdrawing to his Empire in the Americas.

‘Bonaparte sent here as his Ambassador that uncouth firebrand, Marshal Lannes, to bully him into submission. Lannes
was followed by Junot, charged with the same mission. We succeeded in thwarting them by sending a fleet under Lord Cathcart to menace Lisbon from the mouth of the Tagus if Don Joao gave way.

‘Last year Lord Rosslyn, and our great Admiral Lord St. Vincent, arrived here for the special purpose of persuading him to leave for Brazil under British protection. It was even suggested that, on some pretext, he should be got down to the harbour and forcibly abducted in a boat; but they had to abandon the project.

‘And now we are faced with the final crisis. Bonaparte's troops are actually on their way. In the intelligence I received this morning, there was a quotation from a recent issue of the
Moniteur
. The Corsican is reported to have declared: “The house of Braganza has ceased to rule in Europe.” Within a few weeks, that may well be. If only he could be persuaded to put his trust in Britain, Don Joao could remain Emperor of Brazil. Yet this flabby-willed Prince continues to shillyshally, and I am at my wits' end how to persuade him to continue as a Sovereign, instead of throwing away everything.'

For another half-hour they continued talking then, having become fully convinced of Roger's intimacy with many leading statesmen and wide knowlege of international affairs at the highest level the Minister invited him to dine two nights hence, and they parted in friendly fashion.

By midday next day it had leaked out that the French were sending an army to invade Portugal. Rumours of all kinds were rife and the whole city buzzed with excited apprehension.

On the evening of the 13th, Roger went again to the British Legation. He, and several other people who had been invited to dine that night, were told that the Minister was still out at Queluz with the Prince Regent, and it was not known when he would get back. The others accepted that the dinner was off, and took their departure; but Roger decided to stay on.

With grim determination he sat in an ante-room until close on midnight. At last Strangford came in. He looked harassed to distraction and evidently felt the urge to pour out his woe
into a sympathetic ear; for, on seeing Roger, he said wearily, ‘Come in, Mr. Brook. Come in and join me in a glass of wine. God knows I need one.'

When they were seated in his study and the wine had been poured, Strangford exclaimed, ‘What a day! Oh! what a day! I argued with him for hours. No man could have done more to make the poor fool see sense. But the game is lost.'

‘You mean,' asked Roger, ‘that Don Joao has given way to the French?'

The Minister nodded. ‘Yes. This morning he received an ultimatum from Talleyrand. It demanded that I and my staff should be given our passports, that all Portuguese ports should be closed to British shipping, that all British subjects should be expelled and that their goods should be confiscated.'

‘Stap me!' Roger cried. ‘To require the closing of the ports and the expulsion of our people is a legitimate war aim. But the seizure of their goods would be barefaced robbery. What did His Highness say to that?'

‘The spineless creature created a terrible scene, and began to cry like a child. I told him about Bonaparte's having declared that the House of Braganza had ceased to reign; and begged him to preserve his sovereign status by letting us take him to Brazil. At that he jumped up and ran to and fro like a crazy man, yelling, “But I love it here. I have never loved Queluz so much, and you want to take me from it.”

‘He then ran to his mother's apartment. It being no time to observe protocol, I followed him. Falling on his knees in front of her, he implored her advice. For many years the poor old woman has been incapable of giving advice to anyone. She is convinced that when she dies she will go to hell, and thinks of nothing else. Pushing him away, she cried, “The fires! The fires of the inferno. There is no escaping them!”

‘Picking himself up, he staggered to his wife's room and gasped out to her the terrible quandary in which he found himself. She at least behaved like a daughter of Spain; tore off her mantilla, threw it at him and cursed him for a miserable coward.

‘The Foreign Minister, d'Aranjo, then arrived. After a
while he succeeded in quietening the Prince. They decided that the ultimatum must be accepted and an ordinance published to give it effect. But that the British should be given some days to get their goods away. Five.times the Prince sat down at his desk to sign the ordinance d'Aranjo had prepared, and five times threw his pen away; but at last he did sign it, and went off in a flood of tears to don a hair shirt in the monastery. The best I could do was to persuade d'Aranjo that he would at once set about having a fleet prepared in case, at the last moment, the Prince changed his mind and decided to go to Brazil; though I think there is little likelihood of such a fleet ever crossing the Atlantic.'

There was nothing Roger could say to console the depressed Minister for this major diplomatic defeat; so, having expressed his sympathy and offered his services to help if the Legation had to be evacuated, he bade Strangford good night.

On the 14th, the ordinance was published. The Portuguese were aghast at the news that a French army actually was on its way to Lisbon, and in the English quarter pandemonium ensued. In the so-called ‘Factory', where British goods were stored, there were many thousands of pounds' worth of merchandise, and to get it all away in the space of a few days was impossible. To add to the desperate plight of these long-established traders, the rates for shipping space rose within a few hours to unprecedented heights and soared still higher when it became known that the Government had commandeered a large number of ships; although the reason for this action was not disclosed.

For three days these unfortunate people fought ruin and despair with all the energy they could command. Many sold their goods to the Portuguese at great loss, all of them dismantled their houses with frantic haste, packing their most valuable possessions to take with them if they could, and arranging to store others with Portuguese friends.

Then, on the 17th, things took a new turn. A British squadron appeared on the scene and dropped anchor in the mouth of the Tagus. This caused great rejoicing among both the English and the Portuguese, as they expected a force to be
landed that would protect Lisbon from the French. Roger was not so sanguine; for, since the publishing of the Royal ordinance, Portugal and Britain had been, at least technically, at war. It therefore followed that, unless Don Joao was prepared to bring down on his unhappy head the wrath of Napoleon, and so reap the worst of both worlds, he would have to order his forts to open fire on any British troops that attempted to come ashore.

However, that night Roger learned to his delight that the Admiral commanding the squadron was Sir Sidney Smith, an old friend of his and a sailor of exceptional initiative. Sir Sidney had won glory aiding King Gustavus of Sweden in his war against Russia. Later, when commanding a flotilla of British small craft with orders to clear the Channel of French privateers, he had led his ships' boats into the mouth of the river Seine at night, in a daring endeavour to capture an enemy lugger. He had succeeded, but she had been caught in a flood tide and carried upstream; so in the morning, fired on from all sides by French troops, he had been compelled to surrender. He was taken to Paris and for two years had been a prisoner in the Temple. But he had managed to escape. Like Roger, he could speak many languages; and, on one occasion, to secure information about the state of things in Morocco, he had gone ashore and lived there for a time, disguised as an Arab.

When the main British Fleet was based on Naples Sir Sidney had three frigates which had been detached for duty at the eastern end of the Mediterranean. Technically, he was under Nelson, who was extremely jealous of him; but, regarding his superior as too distant to appreciate the local situation, he had ignored him. It was then that Sir Sidney had inflicted the greatest defeat on Napoleon ever achieved by the British, with the one, much later, exception of Waterloo. Napoleon's army was advancing from Egypt up the coast of Palestine, with the object of capturing Constantinople, and dared not leave the great Turkish stronghold of Acre un-captured in its rear; so laid siege to it. Sir Sidney had sent his sailors ashore and the guns from his ships, and succeeded
in holding Acre until the French army, decimated by unsuccessful assaults and wasted by disease, had been compelled to retire on Egypt. That achievement had altered the course of history.

It was during the siege of Acre that Roger had met Sir Sidney, and supplied him with most valuable information. In consequence, they were not only close friends, but the Admiral was one of the very few people who knew that Roger had a dual identity, and was a secret agent.

Next morning, Roger had himself rowed out to the flagship, H.M.S.
Hibernia
. After receiving him with surprise and delight, the Admiral took him to his stateroom, poured two glasses of Malaga wine and asked with a laugh, ‘Do I drink with Mr. Roger Brook or
M. le Colonel de Breuc
?'