Dewey Lambdin - The King`s Commission

"We want to establish good relations with the southern Indians," the admiral summed up, shifting in his chair with impatience at Cowell's plodding oratory. "We wish to give the Spanish fits over their possessions in the South, making them more amenable to our re-taking the region at the peace negotiations. And we want to nail down the western border of the Colonies in the meanwhile so we may exploit this great and fertile coastal plain, instead of the Jonathons, the Frogs or the Dons. Look at the possibilities. Great rivers pouring down from the interior. Here at the mouth of the Mississippi, of the Mobile, this bay at Pensacola, even here at Tampa Bay. They could be important naval bases in time of war. Why should the Dons have 'em-or the Jonathons?"

"And, for the nonce, with strength enough, we could bleed both the Rebel and the Spanish treasuries trying to keep large forces on the frontier," Cowell finished with a dramatic sigh, and sank down into his chair as though exhausted by the effort of being so clever and erudite.

"Catch 'em in a nutcracker," Lieutenant Colonel Peacock said chearly, waving a real nutcracker at them. "Canada and a new British Florida, with the Rebels squeezed to death between, ha ha!" To prove his point, he crunched a walnut to nibble on.

"The only problem being," Sir Joshua frowned, "that at present we have no entrйe , with the Dons in possession of the coast."

"Ah, but a most weak and porous possession, Sir Joshua!" Cowell chuckled. "A few Guarda Costa luggers, little better than fishing smacks. Perhaps one full regiment, supported by native levies of doubtful worth. Had we the troops, and the inclination, we would have swept the area clean years ago, but for Washington and our priorities further north. That is where you two gentlemen come in."

"Us, I see." Lilycrop pondered, slurping some port.

"Can't get there without the Navy, ey?" Cowell laughed.

"So what is it exactly you want us to do, milord?" Lilycrop asked of his admiral.

"Your brig o' war, Shrike , is shallow-drafted. You can get close inshore in what… two fathom of water?"

"She'll draw about ten foot proper laden, milord."

"Even better. The bays are shallow along this coast, even at high tide, and the passes into the sound through the barrier islands are of a piece with the Bahamas, or the coast of Cuba, which you gentlemen have done such a thorough job of ravaging lately," Sir Joshua Rowley told them. "In addition, you took a Spanish Guarda Costa sloop on your last cruise, of a type not very much unlike anything the Spanish would expect to see along the coast. False flag, false uniforms for your officers. Shrike was originally a trading brig, so her presence under Spanish colors would be unremarkable. We propose that you, disguising yourselves as a Don packet-brig and escort, go inshore, drop off a party who shall make their way inland to treat with the Indians. And if the negotiations go well, deliver to the Indians a quantity of arms suitable to their needs, along with such gifts as may tempt them to side with our interests."

"How far inland, milord?" Lilycrop asked, looking a trifle dubious. "And how long are we to linger off this coast?"

"Mister McGilliveray?" Cowell asked.

"The tribe we wish to talk with are the Lower Creeks, sirs," McGilliveray said, swiveling about to look at Lewrie and Lilycrop.

He stood and swung the large map about so the military representatives could see it better. "In the peninsula of Florida, the people are pretty much shattered. Timucua, Ocale, several other tribes mostly reduced by Spanish or British weapons or disease, or rum. West of the peninsula, pretty much the same for the Apalachee. But to the north, there are Muskogean peoples, whom the colonists call Upper Creeks and Lower Creeks. There are also Seminolee, Creek relatives who speak Muskogean. They're fairly powerful on their own. Their influence shall be most helpful to me inland."

"You, sir?" Lilycrop asked.

"Mister Cowell and I are your passengers, sir," McGilliveray said with a small grin. "Do you land us here, sir, at Apalachee Bay east of the Ochlockonee River. There are marshes and mangrove swamps for cover, so we may take the Guarda Costa sloop up-river to where it joins the larger Apalachicola, behind any coastal patrols. Two days on the water, perhaps forty miles? Then we pick up horses from the Seminolee and march two days overland to the large lake formed by the Chatahooch River. Or if the sloop will not serve, perhaps a pair of ship's boats with sails."

"And how long to negotiate, sir?" Lieutenant Colonel Peacock asked.

"Two more days, if all the important mikkos are available," McGilliveray speculated. "It might be a week if they had to be summoned. They will be cautious, so it might take a total of two weeks altogether before they make up their minds, including the trek inland. Then say a third week to get representatives from the Creeks at the mouth of the river here to pick up the arms. Or pick up our shore party should we fail to convince them."

"Damme, hide a ship in the marshes for three weeks?" Lilycrop almost exploded, turning a cherry hue. "More like hide two ships, Shrike at the mouth of the river, and the sloop way up here, assumin' the damned thing may get that far, which is a rather large assumption, ain't it? And just what forces do the Dons have around this Apalachee Bay, I ask you? What about these coastal Indians? They goin' to sit on their duffs and just let us set up housekeepin', or are they goin' to run off and sell us up to the bloody Dons?"

"One would think you had no bottom for the adventure, sir," Lieutenant Colonel Peacock countered grumpily. "Perhaps another officer…"

"I think what my captain means, sirs, is that no one could sail in and play 'Merry Andrew' with no knowledge," Alan stuck in as Lilycrop turned scarlet at the slur to his courage. "And what is Shrike to do in the time the Guarda Costa sloop is up-river? Lay at anchor and trust a local patrol doesn't happen along? Pray some local informer doesn't tell the Spanish we're there? It sounds as if Shrike should lurk offshore, say ten or fifteen leagues out in the Gulf, and never close the coast at all. Let the sloop go inshore alone. Then, if all goes well, Shrike could meet her at some prearranged rendezvous. I assume, however, that Shrike would carry the main cargo of arms and trade goods, and must at some time come inshore to deliver. Or do you plan to take everything along in San Ildefonso, Mister Cowell?"

"It would cut down our time in danger on the coast if the sloop bore the complete cargo, sir," Cowell said.

"And how much is to be transported, sir?" Alan pressed.

"There are eight hundred refurbished muskets with all equipage, eight hundred infantry hangers and bayonets, plus forty thousand cartouches," Cowell stated as though reading a manifest. "And powder and ball equivalent to another forty thousand rounds. And we have trade goods. Tomahawks, knives, bolts of cloth, cooking pots, shirts and cast-off tunics, the usual merchant truck the tribes desire the most."

"About four tons altogether," McGilliveray said. "A very light load. The sloop could handle it easily, could it not?"

"Aye, a thirty-six-foot barge could do it easy," Lilycrop agreed.

"Then another two weeks to get the stuff inland and get our party back?" Alan wondered aloud, glancing at Lilycrop.

"No, the Creeks have horses and mules," McGilliverary told him. "And they have their own canoes, you know. They could take it all on their own once we get them to agree to the bargain. Once they show up and we unload for them, the sloop could be gone."

"What about these Apal… what-you-call-'ems, then?" Alan asked. "Do we have to hide from them as well? Would they be hostile?"

"I know for a fact that we have no worries about the Apalachee." McGilliveray smiled. "They are too weak on their own. They're allies of the Seminolee and the Creeks. Mostly out of fear of what will happen if they cross them. I shall explain the situation, and I doubt if anyone remaining with the boats at the mouth of the river will have any worries. They have no reason to love the Spanish, either. With some trade goods presented to their chiefs, they'll probably fall all over themselves to help us, as long as the crew that stays behind does not offend them."

"That's a rather big if, is it not?" Alan laughed. "I mean, I never heard of anyone who could trust an Indian. They follow their own lights, and be damned to everyone else, don't they?"

" We trust the Indians, Mister Lewrie," Cowell sniffed. "We trust Mister McGilliveray. This is his plan."

"Know a lot about them, do you?" Alan cocked an eyebrow at the young man to his right.

"Dear me, I should have told you, Mister Lewrie. I am one." McGilliveray smirked.

"Ah," Alan managed to say, mostly because it could be done with his mouth hanging open.

"My mother is Muskogee, my father Scot, one of those merchants out of Charleston," McGilliveray explained. "With my mother's people I am called White Turtle, of the Wind Clan, the most powerful clan in any tribe or settlement. My grandfather on mother's side is mikko where we are going, and my cousins are influential. The Apalachee and Seminolee know me, so we shall be safe from harm from them. I shall try to explain all the particulars you should know on the voyage."

"And how many crew may you need, Captain?" Admiral Rowley inquired to smooth over Alan's gaffe.

"Nine men, plus cook and officer, milord."

"Along with Captain Eccles here, and a dozen men from my regiment as guards with the sloop, and with the party up-river," Peacock added.

"Pardon me, Colonel, but would those be troops of the line, or light infantry?" Alan asked, once he had regathered his abashed wits.

"Why do you ask, sir? What do you know of soldiers?"

"I was at Yorktown, sir, and this affair strikes me as calling for Rifles or skirmishers, not line troops. I dealt with a Loyalist Volunteer Regiment and their light company, armed with Fergusons, sir."

"Rifles, bah!" Peacock spat with some heat. "Bunch of damned irregulars, no discipline. Dependable as chimney smoke. If you run into trouble up there, you'll thank your lucky stars for some steady men of the line who can overawe these savages, men who can fire two shots a minute in volley, such as Captain Eccles may select!"

"Pardon me, sir, but in my limited experience with land fighting, I'd rather fire four shots a minute with a Ferguson breechloader from ambush than stand and deliver by volley," Alan retorted with a smile.

"One of the reasons we chose Shrike, you'll remember, is that her first officer does have land-fighting experience, Colonel," Admiral Rowley interjected before Peacock could explode like a howitzer shell with a very short fuse. "Plus her shallow draft, and the record she had made for herself as a fighting ship under her gallant captain, Lieutenant Lilycrop. And since Shrike 's officers shall be responsible for getting our expedition ashore and up-river safely, it does seem reasonable to allow them to make suggestions now from their experience."

Damme, that sounds devilish promising! Alan thought with delight at the admiral's praise. Singled out for hazardous duty 'cause I made a name for myself? Won't that look good in the London papers.

He shared a quick glance with Lilycrop, who was beaming and nodding his head as he digested the fine assessment the admiral had made of his recent record, looking pleased as a pig in shit.

"No red coats," McGilliveray said in caution. "Your men should wear buff or green anyway. Have some linen hunting shirts run up. And I quite agree with Lieutenant Lewrie about the type of men to go ashore. It would be best if we could procure irregulars, people with some woods-craft. More than one British general has come to grief, tramping about the back-country with line troops, Colonel."