The Silver Swan (6 page)

‘I realise that, Papa.'

‘Can't hurt to try both, though, can it?' Miller butted in. ‘You could get the armoury and the gates open, and a couple of us can go find the boy. You'll hardly know we're gone.'

‘We will rescue him,' said Ricardo.

‘We can't leave him in the hands of the French,' said Francesco.

Papa straightened up and glared around the room. ‘That's not what we came here to do,' he said. ‘It's all hands on deck tonight. We have a plan and we follow it. Is that clear?'

There was a mumbled agreement. I seemed to be the only person in the whole world who ever thought Papa was wrong.

‘Enough,' he said, abruptly. ‘We are distressing the Duchessa.'

He bowed to her stiffly.

‘Please excuse us, Your Grace,' he said. ‘Come now, you lot, we'd best get back to the ship. There's not a moment to lose.'

As he strode from the room, I leaned down to whisper in the Duchessa's ear. ‘If I can find Carlo, I will,' I said. ‘He will be free by dawn.'

It didn't seem to reassure her very much. She burst into tears, and I ran from the room to catch up with my father.

We set off to attack the fortress two hours before midnight. Papa gathered us together on deck.

‘This is the plan,' he said. ‘Listen carefully.'

He unrolled a large chart of the Grand Harbour and pointed to a long promontory sticking out into the sea. ‘This is Valletta. The main body of the French forces are here, in the fort at the tip of the peninsula. But they hold the town right back to the inland defences.'

He tapped his finger on the chart. ‘And they hold these three forts facing Valletta, so their cannon can cover the whole harbour. We're attacking this town, Vittoriosa. If the rebels can take the fort of St Angelo here, they'll be able to turn the guns on the others.'

‘Sounds easy enough,' said Miller.

‘We'll have to row in from here, quiet as we can,' Papa went on.

‘That's a long haul,' said Moggia.

‘The fishermen do it every morning,' said Ricardo.

‘That's why I'm not a fisherman any more,' said Moggia.

‘I'm afraid there's no other way,' said Papa. ‘We can't sail the
Mermaid
into the harbour or she'll be blown out of the water. So we'll take the launch and draw up on the quay next to the infirmary.'

‘Near the slave markets,' said Gideon. ‘I know the area well.'

Ahmed nodded and pointed to the spot on the map. ‘I hate that place, but it's a good choice,' he said. ‘The French are used to sick soldiers being rowed across from Valletta at all hours of the night.'

‘So we'll pretend to be a hospice boat,' said Papa. ‘That's where the tunnels begin.'

‘Won't it be guarded?' asked Francesco.

‘Of course.' Papa agreed. ‘There'll be sentries on the quay. Miller and I will take care of them.'

Miller nodded, flexing his muscles as if in readiness.

‘There will also be guards posted along the top of the city walls, and in the fort itself, but if we don't make any fuss, they won't even know we're there. Any questions?' Papa looked at each of us in turn. ‘Let's get moving then.'

‘I don't think my nerves can take much more o' this,' said Brasher, as he led a protesting Lucas down below to sleep.

Mama kissed every single one of us good luck. Ahmed and Max settled in for a long, tense night of waiting on board the
Mermaid
, watching to make sure no French ships came near. They had primed the smaller cannon, just to be on the safe side, and prowled along the deck with muskets at the ready as we cast off in the dark.

The plan was simple enough: find the tunnel that leads under the city and blow up the armoury from below. Then, in the chaos following the explosion, we had to make our way to the city gates, overpower the guards and let in the rebels waiting outside. They would do whatever it is that rebels do when they storm a fortress, and we would escape back to the ship.

With muffled oars and steady strokes, the boys rowed us swiftly through the centre of the harbour,
under the forts and towers clustered on both sides. French ships were docked at the quays along the creeks, their masts and yards a jungle of timber. I sat in the stern and gazed across the water at Valletta, the fortress city high on its rocky peninsula, truly magnificent, even at night. It crouched like a dragon, its backbone all spires and domes of magnificent cathedrals, its ferocious snout pointing out to sea, bristling with guns.

On the other side, three great fortified fingers of land stretched out into the water, like the grasping hand of a giant in armour. One of these citadels was Vittoriosa. All around us, the French kept watch along the ramparts. The fortress walls were sheer, turreted at the top to allow the great bronze cannon to fire across the harbour, and at each corner there was a rounded bastion with flaring torches and guards on watch. It really did seem impregnable.

‘It's hard to imagine that we hold the key to unlock the cities,' I said.

‘Almost impossible,' said Francesco.

‘You don't believe it?'

He shrugged. ‘We'll see, soon enough.' He put his head down and pulled even harder on the oar.

From the shore, someone shouted a challenge in French. We heard the familiar grinding of a musket being cocked. The boys eased off on the oars.

Papa shouted back, also in French, and the two men seemed to be swapping friendly stories through the darkness. Papa even laughed.

‘Proceed,' Papa said at last, ‘but take it slowly and no talking.'

‘What did you say?' I whispered.

‘I told them we were bringing typhus sufferers to the infirmary,' he said. ‘That'll keep them well clear.'

A few moments more and we glided silently into a deserted quay below the vast stone wall. Moggia clambered out first and fastened the boat to a bollard, behind a narrow skiff shaped like a gondola.

‘Make sure it's secure,' Papa whispered.

‘Do you think me a fool?' hissed Moggia, but I noticed that when Papa wasn't looking he tied off the rope with an extra loop.

Papa and Miller disappeared into the darkness to seek out any sentries on the quay. From one end came the muffled thud of a pistol hitting someone's head, and Miller was back with us in a second, unruffled and unharmed. Papa reappeared, and they nodded silently to each other. We gathered at the foot of the wall, hiding in the shadows. Above us soared the sheer stone bulk of the Sacra Infirmeria, the Knights' holy hospital, built to withstand any siege. To our right, the fortifications were even more stupendous, so high that the guards would have to hang over the ramparts to catch sight of us and our boat. But we could see their helmets as they paced along the top of the walls, and the frightening muzzles of the cannon aimed out towards the water.

‘I'll scout ahead,' said Papa. ‘Stay here until you hear the signal.'

He vanished into the night.

We waited. A fish splashed in the dark. At least, I hoped it was a fish.

‘This is boring,' said Ricardo.

‘Perhaps your father is playing a trick on us,' said Moggia.

‘He wouldn't do that,' I said.

‘Why don't we try this gate?' said Moggia, shaking an old iron grate that guarded a staircase.

‘That leads up to the Infirmeria,' said Francesco. ‘Everyone knows about this gate.'

‘Why didn't you say so before?' said Jem, crossly.

‘I thought we were looking for secret tunnels, not paths that every child on the island is taught at their mother's knee.'

‘As if they would leave a public staircase unguarded,' scoffed Ricardo. ‘The French are not stupid. There will be guards at the top, otherwise anyone at all could just walk up and down there.'

‘It doesn't matter,' said Miller, looking more closely. ‘The gate's well and truly locked, and it looks like they've thrown stones down to block the stairway.'

‘You see,' Ricardo sniffed. ‘I told you.'

We waited a bit longer. It seemed like hours.

‘This is really boring now,' said Francesco.

‘Right, I'm sick of this,' said Jem. ‘Let's get on with it.'

We all unsheathed our swords and started walking quietly, together, in the direction that Papa had taken. After a few paces, I could make out the shape of another gate set low into the mighty wall.

‘What the hell?' Miller stopped suddenly.

My uncle, Ebenezer Black, stood in the entrance to the tunnel with two pistols aimed straight at my head.

‘Here you are at last, lass,' Ebenezer said. ‘I thought you'd never arrive.'

‘Uncle! What are you doing here?'

Ebenezer took a few steps towards us, but the pistol muzzles did not waver from my face.

‘As you see, I have come to abort your ridiculous plan.'

‘What?' I nearly shouted it.

‘Get out of the way, Black, or you'll answer to me,' Jem warned.

‘If you so wish,' said Ebenezer, with a lazy motion of one wrist that brought a gun to bear on Jem's chest.

‘What are you talking about, Uncle?' I pleaded.

‘There have been rumours for some weeks that the city would be attacked on the new moon,' he said quietly. ‘Imagine my surprise when I heard the raid was to be led by our pirate princess.'

Gideon was growling low in his throat, and I put out a hand to steady him. He had no idea who Ebenezer was — only that he stood in our way with his pistols aimed at us.

‘I must admit I was relieved to hear you were alive,' Ebenezer went on. ‘Diablo came to me three days ago to tell me you were dead.'

‘You spoke to Diablo?' Wherever we went, that brute was always snapping at our heels.

‘I had little choice in the matter. He came to threaten me over a silly trifle — a chalice that had once been in my possession. You may remember it, Lily.'

‘Of course. But what does he want with it?' I was playing for time. I felt sure there must be some mistake, some way to talk him out of standing in our path.

‘I cannot explain the workings of Diablo's feeble mind to you,' Ebenezer said. ‘Alas, as the chalice had been stolen some months ago, he left empty-handed.'

‘Did he tell you he had killed me?' I asked.

‘He laughed about it.' Ebenezer's voice was bitter. ‘That man is too vile to be borne. But that very morning I saw your ship from the headland and I wondered …'

‘It's you who's been spying on us?'

‘I like to know what's going on, in case I need to intervene,' he said. ‘Now it appears that I do. You cannot attack the city tonight. I will not allow it.'

I took half a step towards him. ‘I thought you were on our side,' I said.

‘That depends entirely on which side you're on, Lily.'

‘What do you mean?' I asked.

‘It's simple,' Ebenezer replied. ‘If you and your
men have returned to the islands to help rid us of the French, then I am at your service.'

‘Come on then, blast you,' said Jem.

‘On the other hand —'

‘By Drake's beard!' Jem fumed. ‘We haven't got all night.'

‘On the other hand,' Black continued, unperturbed, ‘if your plan is to replace the French invasion with a British one, then I will do everything in my power to prevent it.'

‘But the French are evil!' I cried. ‘They're trying to take over the world.'

‘As opposed to glorious Britannia, you mean? Ruling the waves and planting her flag anywhere that takes her fancy?'

I felt as if I'd been stopped in my tracks. ‘But —'

My uncle stared at me with a fierceness that made me shiver. ‘You have never been to Ireland, Lily, or to India or even Gibraltar, to witness English rule. Empire is empire, my dear, whether it's governed by a king or a committee. It's all the same to those who are trampled in the rush. I simply wish to avoid Malta being overrun by yet another vanquishing horde. We've been conquered enough.'

‘He's got a point, you know,' said Miller.

‘It was the French who set the slaves free when they invaded Malta,' Gideon reminded me. ‘I would be dead if it wasn't for Napoleon Bonaparte.'

‘You didn't see how those French soldiers tried to kill me in the cathedral,' I retorted.

‘She's got a point, too,' said Miller.

‘Make up your mind, you lot,' Jem grumbled.
‘Bloody Irishmen. You can't trust 'em.'

‘I take offence at that.' Papa had appeared in the tunnel behind Ebenezer. His own two pistols were pointed straight at my uncle, whose face turned ashen before our eyes.

‘You!'

‘Hello, Eb,' said Papa cheerfully. ‘Surprised to see me?'

‘I knew it,' hissed Uncle Ebenezer. ‘I felt sure you were alive. I told Lily.'

‘So I heard,' said Papa. ‘Yet now you stand in her way, aiming your weapon at her in a most ungentlemanly fashion.'

‘Rafe, you of all people should understand,' my uncle said. ‘We can't just let the English take over the Mediterranean. It'll be just like Ireland.'

‘But sunny?'

‘It's no joke, Rafe. It could mean generations of war and misery on both sides.'

‘You're right, it's no joke, and I'm tired of these arguments.' Papa motioned with a pistol towards Ebenezer's own guns. ‘Drop your weapons now and step aside.'

‘And if I won't?'

‘I'll shoot you if I must.' Papa's face became grim, just like in the days when he was impersonating Hussein Reis. I knew he meant what he said.

‘It's a dark day when a son of Galway bows to the English,' said Ebenezer, in a voice at once threatening and defeated.

‘If this were Galway, Eb, I'd stand by your side,' said Papa. ‘But there's more at stake in the world
than these three Maltese islands. The French won't stop until they reach India, maybe China.'

‘So you think you can stop them here?' My uncle was grinning, but not with pleasure. His face was as angry and sarcastic as it had been the first dark night we'd met.

‘We can try.'

‘I won't let you.'

They stood, glaring at each other, neither giving an inch. I worried that this might go on forever, or until one of my stubborn relatives shot the other. Somewhere a bell sounded. Half an hour to midnight. We had to hurry.

‘For pity's sake, Uncle, people are starving in the city,' I pleaded. ‘If we don't put an end to it, the siege will go on for years. Hundreds of Maltese people will die.'

He shrugged again. ‘So be it. It's far better for us to rot than succumb. The French will cave in first, when they are reduced to eating rats and dried herring.'

‘You don't really mean that,' Papa argued.

‘He doesn't,' I said in desperation. ‘He's joking.'

‘Lily, you should know by now that I have no sense of humour.' Uncle Ebenezer straightened his right arm so that the muzzle of his pistol was only a few inches from my face.

I closed my eyes.

The gunshot was deafening.

I fell to the ground.

 

When I opened my eyes, I was lying on the quay
stones and there was blood everywhere, but nothing seemed to hurt very much. Someone was gasping and gulping nearby. I sat up.

Uncle Ebenezer was sprawled on his face next to me. I crawled to him.

‘Uncle?' I slowly turned him over to face me. There was a bloody mess down his left side.

The muzzle of Papa's pistol nudged me aside and pointed at Ebenezer's face.

‘Never threaten a Swann,' said Papa. ‘We bite back.'

‘You've winged him, that's for sure,' said Miller, shocked.

French guards shouted down from the bastion. Again, Papa called up to them in French.

‘What did you tell them?' said Miller. He didn't trust anyone now.

‘That we'd been frightened by a rat and one of my imbecile men had shot at it.'

‘That's all?'

‘They asked for the password and I made one up: Bonaparte,' said Papa. ‘Happily, they are so predictable that it worked.'

My uncle waved a hand to indicate that he had dropped his guns. Papa stuck his own pistols back into his belt, but drew his sword.

‘Blood ties are stronger than patriotism, Ebenezer,' said Papa. ‘You must know that.'

‘I understand,' said my uncle. ‘But my blood ties are to Malta.'

‘I'm afraid it has clouded your judgement,' said Papa.

‘Stop it!' I protested, still not quite able to believe what had happened. I stood face to face with my father. ‘Ebenezer is part of our family.'

Papa snorted. ‘Fine family loyalty indeed, threatening to shoot you.'

My blood seemed to be pounding up through my throat and into my head, as my anger grew. ‘What would you know about family loyalty?'

‘I beg your pardon?' Papa looked for a moment as if he might slap me, but I didn't care.

‘All those years we got along perfectly well without you, Papa. But now you're home you think you rule the roost. Well, you're wrong.' I pushed him aside, and kneeled down beside my uncle.

‘We've all had enough of your family for one night,' said Moggia. ‘Let's go.'

‘We can't leave him here,' I said.

‘Too right,' said Jem. ‘He might call the guards. They'll be alert now, after that gunshot.'

‘He might die.'

‘He would have killed you, sure enough,' said Gideon.

I gazed into Ebenezer's pale face. ‘You wouldn't have, Uncle, would you?'

He smiled weakly. ‘I don't suppose I could have.'

‘See?' I got to my feet and looked around at the boys. ‘We'll pick him up on the way back.'

My father laid the point of his sword gently against Ebenezer's bare throat. ‘Do I have your word that you won't call the guards?'

‘I would not betray you, brother. I only wanted to stop you myself.'

Papa nodded abruptly. ‘I understand. But you cannot stand in our way.'

‘Clearly.'

Uncle Ebenezer sagged back against the pebbly ground. ‘I will wait for you here, but I'm afraid you won't get very far.'

Papa motioned at Gideon. ‘Give me a hand. We'll have to hide him in the shadows.' They grabbed Ebenezer under the arms and dragged him close to the foot of the wall. His legs flopped and his feet draggled through the dust like a rag doll. Papa propped him up, sitting against the wall. His head sagged down, and the blood-red stain on his waistcoat seeped further across his chest.

‘He's not going anywhere,' Miller murmured.

‘Come on, lads,' said Jem. ‘We've wasted enough time.'

The boys trudged forward to the dark tunnel entrance with Miller in the lead, his cutlass drawn. I followed with Papa, casting one last look back at my uncle, where he lay unconscious against the stones.

Inside the gate, Jem sparked a flame to light a torch.

‘Just one will do for now, so we don't cast too much light,' he said. He looked at Papa. ‘All right then, you've got the cursed map — lead on.'

Papa sheathed his sword at last and strode off down the tunnel. After a couple of hundred feet, we came to an intersection. The main tunnel circled off into darkness, but on each side narrow staircases carved into the stone led up and opened out
into more tunnels. Papa unrolled the map.

‘That's strange,' he muttered. ‘Hold the torch closer.' He turned the map around, then upside down. ‘It doesn't say anything about this junction.'

He looked up. ‘But going south-east makes most sense, doesn't it?'

Papa didn't wait for anyone to agree, but led off again, and we all fell into a single line behind him as we filed up the steps and into the left-hand tunnel.

Jem lit another torch and handed it to Moggia. It was still dark, but the torches cast enough light for us to see where we were putting our feet. In places the tunnel narrowed and zigzagged, no taller than a man and just wide enough. Jem and Gideon had to crouch over, and Miller's broad shoulders filled the whole space. At last it opened out again.

‘Look at this stonework,' said Francesco admiringly. ‘Real craftsmen built this city.'

Miller stared around him. ‘I wish they'd thought to build a tavern just about here.'

The boys chortled, but then Papa stopped short, and we all banged into the back of him. In front of us, blocking the way, was another of those beautifully crafted but completely solid walls.

Papa peered at the map again.

‘Of course, this wall's not on the map, because this entire tunnel doesn't seem to exist,' he said.

‘It looks real enough to me,' said Ricardo. He put out his hand and caressed the stone. ‘One day the city will be ours again.'

‘I think there is something wrong with your
map,' said Francesco. ‘Perhaps we started in the wrong place.'

Papa fixed him with one of those glares I knew only too well.

‘Or perhaps not,' said Francesco.

Papa simply turned back the way we'd come, and led us back to the tunnel junction.

‘You all stay here,' he said, ‘while I scout around.'

He snatched the torch from Jem's hand and marched down the main tunnel.

‘I don't think he likes us much,' whispered Moggia.