Текст книги "Sword and Scimitar"

Автор книги: Simon Scarrow

Соавторы: Simon Scarrow
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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 33 страниц)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The mood in the auberge that evening was subdued. Jenkins served them a simple barley gruel, explaining that there was no longer any fresh meat to be had in the markets of Birgu. In order to save feed the Grand Master had given instructions for all livestock to be slaughtered and salted and stored in the warehouses by the dock. Only a small number of horses were to be given fodder from now on. With the arrival of a large number of refugees in Birgu, new billets for the soldiers had to be found and so a dozen Italian mercenaries had been assigned to the English auberge and these now joined Thomas, Richard and Sir Martin at the long table in the hall. With the arrival of the mercenaries Jenkins’s labours had increased considerably and he treated the Italians with ill-disguised disdain and resentment.

As the men supped they were quiet and reflective and conversation was mainly limited to requests to pass the bread platter, the salt or the jug of watered wine. The mercenaries kept to the end of the table nearest the door and left the three Englishmen to the end nearest the fireplace.

‘Where is Sir Oliver?’ asked Richard. ‘He said he would be accommodated at the auberge once the Turks landed.’

Sir Martin shrugged. ‘He has money enough to rent his own quarters. And a sufficiendy inflated sense of his own worth not to have to share accommodation with his brother knights.’

Thomas stirred his gruel. ‘Do you have any idea where he might have taken up residence?’

‘No,’ Sir Martin answered and they continued eating.

‘ ’Twas a great pity about La Riviere,’ Sir Martin said at length. ‘He was a good soldier. Never balked at the chance to take the fight to the Turk. One man we could ill afford to lose.’

Thomas nodded.

‘He was also reckless,’ said Richard. ‘He need not have died if he had kept his mind on the purpose of the ambush, which was to take prisoners.’

Sir Martin lowered his spoon and glowered at the squire. ‘Once again, you forget your place, young man. Such comments dishonour La Riviere. When you have won your spurs then, and only then, may you pass judgement on the knights of the Order. As it is, he died with honour.’

‘I do not dispute that, sir, but the fact is that he need not have died at all.’

Thomas sighed wearily. ‘But in death at least he did us all a great service.’

‘In what regard?’ asked Richard. ‘As Sir Martin has pointed out, we need good soldiers, and now we have lost a knight and the two squires who were killed or taken with him.’

Thomas pushed his bowl aside before he half turned towards Richard.

‘It was La Riviere who had the presence of mind to convince the Turks to attack the strongest section of our defences. Elsewhere the ditches are far less of an obstacle and they are not yet covered by cannon. If the Turks had launched their assault either side of the main gate it is possible that they would have been able to scale the walls. If they had secured a foothold there and then pushed on into Birgu, our cause would already be as good as lost. As it was, the enemy was bloodily repulsed from the section of our defences they believed to be our weakest. The experience has caused them to choose what they believe to be a less formidable target. That is why they are now marching on St Elmo.’

The younger man lowered his gaze and stared down at his hands. ‘I spoke without knowing the full context of his actions, sir.’

‘That is the burden of youth,’ said Sir Martin. ‘You will learn, in time. If we live through this.’

Richard glanced at Thomas. ‘I apologise, sir.’

‘You owe me no apology,’ said Thomas. ‘It is the name of a dead man that you have impugned. It may be that La Riviere’s c ourage and presence of mind has altered the outcome of the siege.

Think on that, Richard, before you race to judgement on any man in future.’ He rose to his feet. ‘I am to bed. I bid you good night, gentlemen.’ He turned to the lower end of the table and bowed his head. ‘And to our guests.’

The Italians looked up as he addressed them and guessed his meaning and bowed their heads in return before turning back to their meal and conversing in low tones.

Thomas made his way to his cell and closed the door behind him. He sat down on his bed and eased off his boots and breeches before lying down and staring up at the ceiling. A thin beam of moonlight entered from the narrow window above his head and cast a ghostly arch of light on the wall opposite. He folded his arms behind his head and yawned. He had not slept for two days. The strain of the previous night’s action and the events of the day had taken their toll and he felt more tired than he had done in many years. He closed his eyes and breathed evenly, yet sleep would not come. Footsteps passed outside his door and then he heard Sir Martin’s voice grumbling about Italians before a nearby door closed with a slam.

His weary mind returned to his brief exchange with Stokely on top of the bastion. What was his role in all of this? Had he really nursed his grievance as a spumed lover for twenty years? Perhaps jealousy was just as capable of thriving on the scraps of memory as was love. Was it jealousy that made Stokely refuse to reveal where Maria was or, as he claimed, Maria’s wish? He must find Maria. Soon.

There was a light knock at the door and for a moment Thomas considered not responding and feigning sleep. But he welcomed a respite from thoughts of Maria. With a muttered curse, he sat up.

‘Come!’

The latch scraped up and the door opened to reveal Richard illuminated by a candle. The sounds of conversation from the hall carried through into the cell, more cheerful and unrestrained now that the Englishmen had left the table.

‘I need to speak to you, Sir Thomas,’ Richard announced.

Jenkins passed behind him on the way to the kitchen to refill the wine jug.

‘Come in, then.’

Richard closed the door and crossed the room. He set the candle down beside the bed and fetched the single chair for himself.

‘If this is about earlier,’ Thomas began, ‘I merely meant to encourage you to think before you pass comment. You are inclined to forget the attitude that is expected of a squire. Even one of the older squires.’

Richard shook his head. ‘It’s not that. I have a more important matter to discuss.’ He glanced back towards the door as if fearful that he might be overheard, and then leaned towards Thomas and continued in an urgent undertone. ‘I went to St Angelo on an errand today while you, La Valette and the others were on the bastion.’

‘What errand?’

‘To see what I could discover about the location of Sir Philip’s chest, of course. I told the sentries that you had left your gauntlets in the Grand Master’s quarters and sent me to fetch them.’

‘Very enterprising of you. Did the sentries let you pass inside?’

‘They did. Your name carries some weight these days. I crossed into St Angelo and feigned a search for the gauntlets under the eyes of La Valette’s steward, then said that you must have been mistaken and left. It was easy enough to continue down through the keep to the storerooms. That is where I encountered the first of the problems facing us.’

‘Indeed?’

‘The Grand Master’s hunting dogs. They have their kennels in an arch lining the same corridor as the storerooms. The entrance to the dungeon is at the far end of the corridor. There is an anteroom to the dungeon and four guards are stationed there. They present a difficulty in their own right but as it was, the dogs began barking the moment I entered the corridor and alerted the guards at once.’

‘What happened?’

‘I told them that I had lost my way. Two of them marched me out of the keep and sent me away.’

‘Let’s hope they don’t report the encounter. If it excited the curiosity of one of La Valette’s staff, it might well make finding that chest somewhat harder.’

‘Harder? It’s nigh on impossible as it stands. Are you certain there is no other way into the dungeon? Another entrance perhaps, or a drain that passes beneath it or close by?’

‘None that I know of.’

Richard frowned. Thomas watched him for a moment and then scratched his chin.

‘Isn’t this all a little without purpose at present?’

‘How so?’

‘We are surrounded by the enemy. There will be no escape from Malta unless the siege is lifted. If the Turks succeed then it hardly matters if you retrieve the document or not.’

‘It matters a great deal,’ Richard replied firmly. ‘If it should fall into the enemy’s hands they would realise its significance at once and have an immensely strong bargaining counter in any dealings with England.’

Thomas smiled wryly. ‘Which enemy? The Turks, the Catholics, or the Order?’

‘All of them, as it happens.’

‘Ah, a pity. For a moment there I hoped that you might have formed some common bond with La Valette and his followers.’

‘Oh, we share a bond all right. Emerging from this trap alive. Until that is achieved, I will do whatever I can to defeat our common foe. But this is not a case of my enemy’s enemy is my friend, Sir Thomas. If we are discovered searching for the document, then I doubt there will be any mercy shown to us once La Valette realises the real purpose of our presence here. The Grand Master has a certain ruthless streak and however much he may value your skills and experience, he will not forgive your deception.’

‘No. I don’t suppose he will,’ Thomas agreed. ‘Forgiveness seems to be in rather short supply at present.’

Richard looked at him sharply. ‘What does that mean?’

‘It is nothing that concerns you.’

‘Of course it concerns me. I need your help to carry out my mission. I can’t afford for you to be distracted. Is it to do with that woman, Maria?’

Thomas was silent for a moment. ‘You know it is.’

‘Then you had better be careful. She must not be allowed to interfere with our plans.’

Thomas felt a chill enter his heart. ‘Is that a threat of some kind?’

‘No, I merely meant to remind you of your duty to your country, and your Queen. Keep that in mind.’

Thomas eased himself forward until his face was close to that of his squire. ‘Understand this, Richard. If you ever harm Maria, or act in any way to endanger her, I will kill you.’

Richard stared at him. ‘You would kill me to save her? Really?’ Their eyes locked briefly before Thomas slumped back, dispirited. The passion in his heart felt real enough, but Richard’s iron resolve to fulfil his mission and duty made his own feelings seem distastefully self-indulgent and his threat empty and ridiculous.

‘What would you do in my situation?’ he asked.

‘I can’t imagine.’

‘Then I pity you.’

‘Save your pity,’ Richard hissed. ‘Your imagined bond with this woman is a weakness. What do you think you can achieve? Tell me. What are your plans? What could you offer her?’

‘A chance to put right the wrong that was done to both of us. Perhaps if we live through this we might yet be joined, as we should have been all along. My plan is to ask her to be my wife and then I would take her home to England where we could grow old in peace.’ Richard shook his head. ‘There is no fool like an old fool. And any fool can see that you are presuming upon a degree of affection and forgiveness in this lady that borders on fantasy. You must see that.’

‘I see what is in my heart.’

‘And it blinds you to all else. Right now, it is my most fervent wish that I could carry out Walsingham’s orders by myself but I cannot. You must help me.’

‘Must I?’ Thomas settled back against the stone wall before he continued. ‘If I help you see your mission through then I expect help from you in turn.’

Richard’s eyes narrowed. ‘And what is it that you want me to help you with, exactly?’

‘For now, I need to know where Maria is. The civilians evacuated from St Elmo were brought here. She has to be somewhere here in Birgu.’

‘I have no doubt. It is common knowledge that many of your brother knights have mistresses, and some have even married in secret and live as husband and wife in their homes and estates on the island. Hypocrites!’ Richard sneered. ‘Like all those whom the Church of Rome holds up as models of rectitude. Hypocrites, all of them.’ He raised a clenched fist and his voice was strained with bitter emotion. ‘By God, if it was ever in my power I would wipe them all from the face of the earth

‘Them?’ Thomas’s brow creased. ‘Do you speak as a Christian, or a Muslim? For it is impossible for me to tell the difference.’ Richard lowered his fist and opened his fingers. ‘I beg your pardon,’ he muttered. ‘I am very tired. I forgot myself.’

Both men were silent. Thomas stared at his companion with frank curiosity. ‘What has been done to you that you should hate these people so terribly?’

‘Nothing . . . It’s nothing. I lost my temper for an instant. That is all.’

‘It is far from all. You revealed your heart for an instant, and I saw a darkness and a rage in you that I had never suspected. Richard, what is it? What torments your soul so badly?’

‘Suffice to say that I have no reason to love those who serve the Church of Rome,’ Richard replied coldly. ‘I am born of Catholics, who abandoned me when I was young. Mine was a hard upbringing, and I knew little kindness until Sir Robert took me into his service before I joined Walsingham’s agents. It was Cecil who taught me that Catholicism is a vile corruption of Christianity and I have dedicated my life to destroying it in England, and wherever it may be found.’ He was breathing quickly and it was a while before the rage that burned in him had died down enough for him to talk in a controlled manner.

‘If you help me, Sir Thomas, then I shall help you. We will find that letter, and your Maria, and we will take both from this island and return to England, if that is your wish.’

‘It is, and I fervently hope that it is hers as well.’

Richard nodded. ‘Then we have an agreement. As good as any that is signed in blood.’ He offered his hand and Thomas took it.

‘I hope your Maria is worth it,’ Richard said with a thin smile.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Over the following days the distant rattle of the iron wheels of the enemy guns carried clearly across the water of the harbour. From the walls of St Angelo the defenders looked on as the ant-like figures toiled on long ropes to haul their artillery along the crude track that meandered down the length of the ridge of Sciberras. Turkish engineers had gone ahead of the guns, improving the track and levelling a large patch of the rocky ground half a mile from St Elmo. Once the ground had been prepared, they constructed the first of the batteries with which to bombard the fort. Then, one by one, the guns were manoeuvred into position and long lines of mencarried shot and kegs of gunpowder up to the battery to feed the cannon. As soon as their preparations were complete, the battery opened fire.

The first blast split the late spring afternoon. A puff of smoke spurted from the embrasure and then wafted into the air. Those watching from the keep on the other side of the harbour snapped their eyes towards the fort and an instant later a small explosion of rock and soil erupted a short distance in front of St Elmo, and then again off the stone facing of the outwork. As the roar of the cannon carried across the bay, the ears of La Valette’s hunting dogs pricked and they rose, growling, from where they had been lying at his feet. The Grand Master reached down and stroked their velvet heads gently to hush them.

‘A lucky shot,’ Stokely commented. ‘To strike home with the first attempt.’

Colonel Mas shook his head. ‘They won’t be needing much luck. The ground is hard. Any shot that falls short will ricochet and hit the fort with almost as much force as a direct hit.’

Thomas nodded. He had witnessed a handful of sieges in the boggy conditions of the Netherlands where soft ground swallowed up cannon shot in a welter of mud and damp soil. Only a direct hit had any effect. Here, on Malta, conditions were perfect for the Turkish gunners.

The second gun fired and the hair rose up on the backs of the hunting dogs and they barked ferociously. Other dogs in Birgu joined the chorus with each shot that was fired. La Valette tried to calm his hounds and then with an irritated sigh he gestured to one of his servants and ordered the man to take them down to the kennel in the dungeon corridor. Richard stepped aside to let them pass and eyed them with ill-disguised hostility.

The twelve guns of the battery continued to fire in turn in a rolling bombardment and it was soon clear that the Turks had chosen to concentrate their efforts on the ravelin and the two nearest points of the star-shaped fort. As the guns boomed out, the engineers advanced a short distance beyond the crest of the ridge and began to construct a second battery; further on, a series of green streamers flying from the top of slender posts marked the start of the approach trenches they were cutting into the rocky ground with picks, heavy chisels and hammers.

The handful of cannon mounted on the walls of the fort fired on the engineers each time they advanced the trench and scurried forward to throw up makeshift barricades to screen the men working on the next section. At the same time a company of Janissaries took shelter amid the outcrops of rocks and boulders closer to the defences. They sited their long-barrelled arquebuses on the walls of the fort and sniped at any defenders foolhardy enough to expose themselves too far above the parapet.

Each day, at dawn and towards dusk, the Grand Master and his advisers surveyed the enemy’s progress and were disheartened by the speed with which the Turkish trenches zigzagged closer to the fort. The poor quality of the stone used in the construction of St Elmo was evident from the crumbling of the facing of the walls and the rapid pulverisation of the points of the comers of the fort facing the batteries. As darkness fell and all through the night the guns continued to fire in an endless rhythm of detonations that were accompanied by regular outbreaks of barking from all the dogs in Birgu.

The passing days were spent in improving the defences of Senglea and Birgu. As before, La Valette and the senior knights joined the other soldiers and townspeople as they laboured to increase the depth of the walls and construct a second line of defence across the ground where the nearest houses had been torn down to provide building material. Beyond the main wall, gangs of galley slaves and the handful of prisoners that had been taken were chained in pairs and set to work deepening and widening the ditches that cut across the ground at the base of each promontory. A screen of arquebusiers were sent two hundred paces further out to prevent the Janissary snipers from trying to hinder the work being carried out in front of the walls. The activity only came to an end when the sun set and the slaves were returned to their cells while the rest trudged back to their billets and homes.

There was little time for Thomas and Richard to pursue their respective quests. In any case, they were often too exhausted to do anything more than eat upon returning to the auberge. Then, while Richard fell on his bed and went to sleep, Thomas left the auberge to attend the evening meeting of La Valette’s war council in St Angelo. For the present there was little more to discuss than the progress of the work on the defences, and the steady destruction of the fortifications of St Elmo. Stokely made his report on the current levels of rations. There were no more exchanges between Stokely and Thomas outside the meetings; Stokely always contrived to leave first, while the Grand Master engaged Thomas and Colonel Mas in further discussion about the military situation as they gazed out of the window and beheld the ongoing siege of St Elmo.

The dark mass of the fort with its regular lines loomed over the end of the Sciberras peninsula. There was a faint orange loom from the flames of the braziers and cooking fires burning in the courtyard, but no sign of the sentries on duty along the wall. There had been many losses caused by Turkish snipers before the defenders learned to risk only fleeting glances above the parapet, or to find a sheltered place along the wall where they could lie full length on the parapet and keep watch. Even so, there were occasional flashes from the ground in front of the fort as a sniper shot at any movement detected on the wall. Further back, the Turkish engineers continued digging their trenches by the flickering light of torches, behind the cover of their barricades. Up on the ridge, where the two batteries were sited, the guns continued firing through the night. Each round shattered the darkness with a lurid red glare that illuminated a tableau of the men toiling past the batteries with wicker baskets filled with soil and rock to help build up the sides of the trenches, before the night shrouded the scene once more – until the next gun fired.

Thomas could not help admiring the efficiency with which the Turks pressed on with their siege. In the years that he had served the Order he had mostly fought them at sea, and only heard accounts of their wider military prowess from the handful of older knights and soldiers who had faced Suleiman’s army at Rhodes. There was no question that their technical skills far exceeded those of most of the armies Thomas had faced on European soil. Only the superior armour of the knights, their long experience of conflict and devotion to their cause weighed against the numerable advantages enjoyed by the Turks.

At the end of May La Valette gathered his advisers at noon to hear grim news. The small council sat round the table in his study. A small scroll of paper lay on the table beside the hollowed-out cow horn into which it had been sealed with wax. La Valette’s dogs, as usual, lay at his feet under the table. Trained to run with the Grand Master’s hunt, they were used to firearms and no longer barked at the sound of the enemy’s cannon, unlike the other dogs in Birgu.

‘I have received a despatch from Don Garcia. It came via Mdina and a local goatherd who swam across the harbour. The Viceroy tells me that the reinforcements he was expecting from Genoa have been delayed,’ La Valette said in a voice tinged with bitterness. ‘Don Garcia reports that we can expect to be relieved no earlier than the end ofjuly. We are ordered to hold out until then.’

‘July?’ Colonel Mas let out a sigh of frustration. ‘Another two months? I doubt that St Elmo will last another two weeks, and then the Turks will turn on Birgu.’ He paused to make a rapid calculation. ‘With our defences in the state they are we must expect St Michael and Birgu to fall within a month of the loss of St Elmo. In that event, we will have to make a final stand here, in this fort. With luck we might still hold St Angelo when Don Garcia and the relief force eventually land on Malta.’

‘That would be lucky indeed,’ La Valette replied. He raised a hand to attract the attention of the servant who had been standing silently by the door. ‘Bring in Captain Medrano.’

There was the briefest delay before a tall officer with a neatly clipped beard entered the study and strode towards the table. He was wearing a breastplate tarnished where it had scraped against masonry and Thomas could see that his jerkin was stained with sweat and grime. His eyes had the sunken lustreless look of an exhausted man and his hair was streaked grey with dust.

‘A chair for the captain,’ La Valette ordered and the servant hurriedly brought one to the table. Medrano sat down stiffly and folded his hands together in his lap as the Grand Master introduced him.

‘I doubt that any of you have met the captain before. He arrived a few days before the Turks and was assigned to the garrison of St Elmo immediately. He is one of La Cerda’s senior officers. He has been sent to us to deliver a report on conditions across the harbour. Captain?’ La Valette invited him to address the war council.

‘Yes, sir.’ Medrano nodded. He cleared his throat and began speaking in the clear, direct tones of a professional soldier.

‘The commander of the fort begs me to inform you that the situation at St Elmo is critical. The ravelin is close to collapse, as is the south-west corner of the fort. The south-east corner will not endure much longer. The enemy trenches are less than fifty paces from the outer ditch and we can expect them to make their first assault within the next two days. There is nothing that we can do to hamper their progress. The moment any of our men appear above the parapet they are shot down by the Janissaries. We lost twenty men to snipers just yesterday. As a result we are forced to crawl behind the cover of the parapet and try to build up some makeshift battlements with stones taken from the rubble on the corners of the fort. That’s a dangerous business, given the continual bombardment. The morale of the men is low. They have had little rest, and stand by their arms at all times in case the enemy attempts a sudden assault on the fort. My commander estimates that the fort can hold out for eight more days. Ten at the outside, sir,’ he concluded.

‘Ten days is not good enough, Captain,’ La Valette responded. ‘You and your comrades must buy the rest of us more time. We have heard today that there will be no outside help for two months. Every day that you can hold on increases the chance that our Holy Order will survive. La Cerda must not give up the fight.’

‘What does La Cerda want from us?’ asked Thomas.

‘Sir?’

‘I presume that he would not have you risk your life by crossing the harbour in daylight just to report on conditions in the fort. What else did he say? What does he want?’

Medrano lowered his gaze momentarily. ‘La Cerda asks for permission to evacuate the fort. He says that the wounded can be loaded into boats sent over from this side of the harbour after nightfall. After that he will gradually thin out the men behind the wall. Any weapons and equipment that cannot be removed will be thrown down the well and the cisterns will be fouled. The last men to leave the fort will fire the fuses to the charges set in the powder store. Nothing of use will be left to fall into enemy hands.’

‘I see.’ La Valette nodded. ‘And when does La Cerda intend to plan to abandon the fort?’

‘Tonight, sir – if you give the order.’

‘Out of the question! There will be no evacuation. You will tell La Cerda that when you return to the fort. He still has over six hundred men under arms. It is unthinkable that he should abandon his position so early in the siege. It is a shameful request. Shameful! Do you hear?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Medrano bowed his head. He hesitated a moment before he added, ‘I agree.’

La Valette stared at him and then spoke in a gentle tone. ‘Thank you, Captain. That is the kind of resolve that is needed. Tell me, in your opinion what can we do to help St Elmo hold out as long as possible?’

Medrano considered for a moment before he replied. ‘Fresh men, sir. To steady the nerves of the garrison and to show them that they have not been abandoned. Send them some coin and wine too. There’s nothing that soldiers like more than the feel of coins in their purses. There’s an empty storeroom where a few gaming tables can be set up, and wine can be sold. That will help to divert thoughts of their predicament.’

‘Very well, I shall see that it is done.’

Colonel Mas leaned forward. ‘There are other measures we can take to ensure the fort holds out as long as possible. Certain weapons that we have been holding back for the defence of Birgu. It might be better to surprise the enemy with them now, sir.’

‘You mean the fire hoops and the naphtha throwers?’

‘ Yes, sir. If we add those to the incendiaries that La Cerda has at his disposal I am sure we can make the enemy pay a high price for St Elmo, and hold them off for longer than La Cerda’s estimate.’ The Grand Master folded his hands together and weighed up the suggestion. At length he nodded. ‘Very well, see to it that the fort is supplied. As for men, we will send another hundred and fifty of the mercenaries across. There is one other matter. La Cerda is clearly not fit to retain command. We need to replace him with someone equal to the task that lies ahead. In the meantime I appoint you, Captain Medrano, as commander of the fort. I will have your orders drafted at once so that you can take them with you.’ He paused a moment. ‘Juan de La Cerda has served the Order faithfully in the past and is a good knight. Relieved of the burden of command

I am confident that he will fight well. I will not add to his humiliation unnecessarily. He is to remain with the garrison. Find him a less onerous responsibility, Captain.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Very well, you may leave us. Wait outside while my clerk drafts your orders. Then return to St Elmo at once, before La Cerda undermines the courage of those he commands any further.’

Medrano rose from his chair and left the room. La Valette briefly dictated the details of the new arrangement to his clerk, then signed the order before the clerk left the room to hand the document to the waiting captain.

La Valette sighed. ‘I need to find the right man for St Elmo. One who knows he is going to a certain death and does so without hesitation. He must also be determined to make the enemy pay as dearly as possible. He must not be a hothead but a man of cold reason. Not another La Riviere. He must also be a man whom others will follow with the same sense of duty and inevitability about the outcome.’

‘Such men are rare, sir,’ said Mas. ‘I do not count myself among their number, but if you wish it, I will take up the command.’

‘I expected no less of you, Colonel. But for now you best serve the interests of the Order on this side of the harbour. Once St Elmo falls, as it must, it will take every effort of the best of us to hold the line here.’

‘What about Sir Thomas?’ asked Stokely. ‘He has the necessary military experience, and he has proved that he has steady enough nerves by capturing that Turkish officer and leading La Riviere’s men safely back to Birgu.’