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    Mark Arbour
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

HMS Valiant - 35. Chapter 35

January, 1800

HMS Valiant

Monolithos, Rhodes

 

“It would seem to be that we simply have to go to the top of that hill and utter the correct code, sir,” Kingsdale said, trying to understand why Daventry seemed concerned.

“Even though we have the correct code, it is possible that this cycloptic priest will not release the chest to us if he feels we are not the genuine messengers,” Daventry explained.

Granger hadn’t really considered that, that this guardian of the chest may have his own directives on whom to give it to. “What do you suggest?”

“I would think that since Jardines was to be the messenger, Treadway should go with the party that ascends to the castle, in uniform. He is also a major, conveniently enough.”

“I am glad that my last promotion has enhanced our chances of success, my lord,” Treadway said.

“When we land, I think that whoever else should accompany Treadway should wear civilian clothing,” Daventry opined. That was taking a considerable risk, because if one of them was captured and he wasn’t wearing his uniform, they could shoot him as a spy. But this island was not supposed to be hostile anyway, and Granger wasn’t about to indicate that he was concerned about his own safety.

“I think it would be customary, my lord, for me to have at least a few of my men with me,” Treadway said. “I wouldn’t think a major would wander about in a strange country without at least an escort of five men.”

“That is a good point,” Daventry agreed.

“How many people did you envision making this trek?” Granger asked Daventry.

“How far is it?” Daventry asked.

“The road looks to wind inland, and it is quite steep,” Granger said. “I would also suggest that calling it a road is perhaps too great a compliment.”

“Undoubtedly,” Daventry agreed. “A goat path is a more apt description.”

“I would estimate that the distance is only two miles,” Granger said.

“Then I would think a party of 10 to 15 men should be able to accomplish this mission,” Daventry said.

Granger pondered that. “I am concerned that with only 10 men, we are quite vulnerable, especially if we are carrying a treasure chest. It is not unreasonable that there are rumors on the island about this chest, and that there are those who would relish a chance to steal it.”

“I would think they would just take it from the priest,” Daventry said.

“I am willing to wager that once the priest releases this chest to us, his responsibility ends,” Granger noted.

“And if it is captured on the way back to the ship, it really is of no matter to him,” Daventry concluded.

“Precisely,” Granger agreed.

“My lord, who will be tasked to go on this mission with Lord Daventry?” Weston asked.

“In addition to Major Treadway and five of his men, and Lord Daventry along with his two associates, I had planned to go as well, and to take a party of seamen with me.”

“My lord, I must request most fervently that you appoint someone else to accompany Lord Daventry,” Weston said.

“I hardly think that hiking to the top of a mountain is dangerous enough to warrant your concern,” Granger said, annoyed at the thought of staying behind. Even as he did, though, he remembered how Calvert had convinced him of the importance of delegation when they’d made their assault on St. Martin all those years ago. Granger allowed himself to wonder briefly if he would always conjure up these unpleasant reminders of Calvert, and what a good officer he was, or if they would fade as time went on.

“I would submit that Mr. Weston makes a good point,” Daventry said. “You may be needed here to deal with interlopers, and if our mission fails, you will be needed to explain what happened.”

Granger studied their expressions carefully, but it was Treadway’s look that convinced him. Granger’s hesitation had the potential to show a lack of confidence in his marine commander, and that would never do. “You are quite right, both of you. Major Treadway’s presence should be more than enough to assist you, Daventry.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Treadway said.

“I had fancied a walk ashore, but I will have to forego that pleasure,” Granger said.

“Perhaps you can scout the beach for shells,” Daventry teased.

“I will send Llewellyn with you,” Granger announced. “He seems to have surplus energy anyway.” That got a chuckle, as Llewellyn was notorious for fidgeting.

“I suspect the walk will do him good, my lord,” Weston agreed, happy that Granger had acquiesced to his request to stay behind.

“We’ll send a few topmen with you as well,” Granger said. “I think scaling to the top of that mountain may require a certain amount of balance and dexterity.”

“Undoubtedly,” Daventry agreed, with a hint of dread in his voice.

“I would submit that the most dangerous part of the trip will be your return journey,” Granger noted.

“I think that is accurate, my lord,” Treadway agreed.

“Then we will give you a flare gun, such that you can fire off a round when you are leaving the fortress. After that, should you run into any other trouble, you can fire another round, and we will attempt to rescue you,” Granger said.

“Excellent,” Daventry said. “If you gentlemen will pardon my sense of urgency, it is now only 9:00 in the morning. If we hurry and get on our way, we can accomplish our trek today.” Granger would have preferred to wait until dawn tomorrow, but he knew that their presence here would raise questions, and the faster they achieved their goal, the better.

“Then let us be about it,” Granger said. Within forty-five minutes, the launch had landed Daventry, Treadway, and their party. Granger watched them through his telescope until they vanished into the woods. He studied the area, noting the steep mountains, and the arid hills that seemed to have only dried brush and trees to commend them. He was glad the expedition had taken plenty of water, as there did not appear to be a surplus ashore. “Pass the word for Lieutenant Waltham.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Weston said, and soon enough the handsome young man reported to Granger.

“I have a task for you, Mr. Waltham,” Granger said.

“Certainly, my lord,” Waltham said cordially.


 

The fortunate thing about the hills was that they gave Treadway and Daventry a general sense of which direction they should travel. And having the fortress on the mountain made it visible for miles. It was reasonable to hope they would not get lost. That assumption did not account for the winding paths, and how maddeningly one trail would seem to vanish into nothing, or merely loop back to their starting point.

“I feel as if I am in a maze,” Daventry said.

“This may take longer than we planned, my lord,” Treadway said. “I would hope to be back on the ship before sunset.”

“Aye,” Daventry agreed. “While this island seems sparsely populated, there is a feeling about it that makes me uncomfortable.” Treadway had felt the same thing, but he’d kept his mouth shut. There was a scuffle ahead of them, along with shouting, and that prompted Daventry and Treadway to push ahead quickly.

They arrived at a curve in the trail where one of the scouts was holding a boy, probably all of 12 or 13 years old, binding his arms behind his back. The boy struggled to be freed, but ceased when Treadway and Daventry arrived. “Sir, I found this lad and when he tried to run off, I grabbed him,” the scout said.

Treadway nodded. “Do you speak English?” The lad looked at him strangely. “Do you speak French?” he asked, in that language. The boy began to chatter in a language that was foreign yet vaguely familiar to Treadway.

“Can you help us get up to that fort?” Daventry asked the lad, only he spoke Greek. The boy looked at them strangely. Daventry took out his purse and handed the boy a guinea, and that changed his whole attitude. He chattered back to Daventry, and then began to lead them off. “He said he can lead us to the fortress.”

“Indeed, my lord,” Treadway said with a grin. “I fear that my lack of attention to my classic Greek studies is costing me now.”

“You are fortunate that I was a much better student,” Daventry said. “Although the languages are not really identical, it is enough to communicate basic commands.”

“I suspect that will serve, my lord,” Treadway agreed. And so, with the help of this lad, they made much steadier progress, although their pace soon winded the lot of them, much to the lad’s amusement.

“Bit of a climb,” Daventry noted. Treadway smiled as he noted how Daventry had tried to hide the fact that he was almost out of breath as he spoke, not that Treadway’s lungs were any more robust. The only person who seemed to be without fatigue was Llewellyn, with his notorious amount of energy.

“Being confined on a ship for extended periods of time makes exercise on land a bit strenuous, my lord,” Treadway said. It took them the better part of two hours to reach the point where the fortress rock soared up from the mountains. Their relief at reaching this point evaporated when they saw what still awaited them. Stairs wound up the side of the rock, as if they were leading all the way to heaven itself.

“We’ll take a break, and then we’ll mount these steps,” Daventry said. Treadway gave orders for that, and the men drank a bit of their water in preparation for the next part. The boy made to leave, but Daventry stopped him. “You help us go up,” he said in his halting Greek.

The boy shook his head and made to go, but Daventry stopped him. “You help us go up, and then go back,” he said, pointing to the ship, and pulled out another guinea. The lad made to take it, but Daventry pulled it back, clearly indicating that he would have to earn it. The boy smiled, and held up two fingers. “Two guineas. Bloody hell,” Daventry said to Treadway. “Very well,” he told the lad, who then began to lead them up to the fortress.

It was a long, steep climb, and they were all so exhausted, there was no attempt to even hide their fatigue. The weather was slightly cool, but they found themselves sweating profusely with their exertion. “I think I should like to sleep on the deck from this point forward, simply so I don’t have to climb up the ladder from the gun deck,” Treadway said ruefully.

“I have certainly had my fill of stairs,” Daventry agreed, but they did not talk much. The higher they got, the more difficult it became to catch their breath. The steps were slippery in places, and were cut into the side of the mountain. There were no railings, and they were narrow, so a steep drop to one’s death was just a slip of the foot away. The height and the lack of railings bothered Daventry, not that he showed it, but the sailors and marines took it in stride. Presumably after climbing a mast, this was child’s play. It took them a full twenty minutes to make the ascent.

They finally reached the top and paused, taking in the breathtaking view of their surroundings. They had panoramic views that seemed to go on for miles. Treadway looked down at Valiant, which seemed so far away, and saw a reasonable amount of activity around her, but he didn’t pause to question it.

He and Daventry walked into the chapel, and saw a priest and an acolyte tending to some candles. The priest turned as they entered, and while Daventry had expected the man to have just one eye, when he actually did, it still seemed to be a surprise in almost a surreal way. As the priest wore a patch to cover his useless eye, there was no way to evaluate how he’d lost the use of it. Just as they had discussed, Treadway was the one to utter the phrases.

“The Knights Live On In The Guild,” he said in French, then repeated the phrase in English.

“I have been expecting you,” the priest said in French. He spoke to his acolyte, then led Daventry and Treadway out of the chapel and down some steps, which seemed to go into the dungeon of this ruined fortress. There they found two chests. “These are yours.”

“Thank you,” Treadway said, as seemed to be appropriate. The priest merely nodded, and led them out of the dungeon. The chests were quite heavy. When they reached their group, they handed them off to the men, where two men could carry one chest each. “Mr. Llewellyn, fire off the flare.”

“Aye aye sir,” Llewellyn said. He prepared the flare gun, while the Greek lad looked on curiously. He jumped when Llewellyn fired it, and then grinned broadly when it exploded in the sky. Treadway noticed that smoke seemed to be coming from the chapel, and almost worried that it was on fire, but it was probably just some ritual practice of the Greek Orthodox Church.

They began to descend, while Daventry kept Treadway back a bit so he could speak to him. “Look alert, especially when we get to the bottom of these steps.”

“My lord?”

“I could be wrong, but I would wager that the smoke from the chapel is a signal. I would expect that we will have visitors on our way back,” Daventry said.

“Aye aye, my lord,” he said, and got a smile from Daventry for his use of the nautical term.

The climb down the steps was easier in one regard, but the chests were cumbersome, and there was a near moment when one of the men slipped and almost fell, taking the chest with him. They reached the foot of the steps, and the lad began once again to lead them, only he was taking a different route.

“We go the same way,” Daventry insisted.

“This way is faster,” he said.

“The same way,” Daventry insisted again. The lad shrugged and led them down the same trail they’d taken to get here. Treadway ranged up and down the line, making sure that those who weren’t carrying the chests were ready with their weapons. They had made it three fourths of the way back to the beach, as near as they could tell, when they heard an ominous sound: horses’ hooves.

“In the woods, all of you,” Treadway ordered. They did as he said, even though the lad looked alarmed. He made to run away, but Daventry grabbed him by the collar and dragged him along. They moved back into the woods, away from the trail, and leveled their weapons at the path. It would have been nice to have some brush for cover, but the landscape was pretty barren. “If we’re to be attacked by horsemen, you will have to use the trees as a shield,” he told his men.

And then, as if from nowhere, a party of probably twenty horsemen trotted by. They looked to be locals, from their clothes and their coloring, but they were all well armed, mostly with swords or other such types of weapons, while a few even had muskets. They remained silent, while Daventry maintained a tight grip on the lad to keep him quiet. Daventry began to wonder if the horsemen might actually pass them by, but then one of the men saw them and shouted.

The leader yelled out an order, and although they could not understand the language, the meaning was inescapable. The horses were pulled back, and they aimed directly at the expedition. “Marines, ready your weapons,” Treadway called out. And with the precision he had drilled into his men, they formed up in a small line, the five of them, and took aim at the horsemen. A shot rang out from the leader of the horsemen, and Treadway felt the wind from the bullet as it blew past him. That was good shooting. “Fire!” he ordered.

The marines fired, hitting a horseman and two horses, and immediately began to reload, but the marauding Greeks were not daunted. They began to charge forward. The men who had carried the chests had put them down and had grabbed their weapons, most of them hovering around trees, using them to counter the strength of the horses. The horsemen picked up speed and burst through their ranks, as cavalry are wont to do, swinging their swords as they did. They managed to wound one of the seamen with them, but the rest of them had avoided injury. They turned once they were past their party and charged again, with much the same result, having wounded yet another seaman, only this time the marines had reloaded, and they took out another horse, and another horseman. “What are they doing?” Daventry asked.

“Those were exploratory charges, my lord,” Treadway said. “They were ascertaining how well armed we were, and they were making sure we had the chests.”

“So now what will they do?”

“Now they will attack in earnest, my lord,” Treadway said. “Men, prepare for their assault. This time it will be a bit more intense.”

They braced themselves, and the marines fired again, but their muskets were not that accurate, and five men could not forestall twenty determined mounted men. The marines fixed bayonets in fluid movements, preparing to fight hand to hand, while the seamen did the same with their cutlasses. Just as the horsemen were about to charge, a volley of muskets exploded. Treadway looked curiously at his marines, but they had not fired.

Lieutenant Waltham saw men and horses fall, and nodded as the drummer began to beat the time. “The marines will advance,” he ordered, and his squad of twenty-five men moved forward, following in the wake of their volley, reloading even as they did. Men and horses were screaming, while Treadway’s men fired again from the brush, where they’d taken what little cover they could find.

The horsemen, confronted by a disciplined force, and having lost half their number by well-placed volleys, turned and fled, leaving their wounded compatriots behind.

“Lieutenant, how wonderful to see you and your men,” Treadway said.

“His Lordship thought we might be of some use to you, sir,” Waltham said.

“We had best get back to the ship,” Daventry said, even as he looked around.

“What of the wounded, my lord?” Waltham asked.

“You’ll have to carry our men back,” Daventry said, even as they formed up on the trail.

“What of their wounded, my lord,” Waltham asked, gesturing at the moaning Greek horsemen who lay on the road or in the brush.

“They will have to hope their friends come back for them,” Daventry said. He looked over at the Greek lad, whose eyes were wide with terror. He motioned the boy over, and he looked as if he were going to run away, but in what was undoubtedly one of the bravest things he’d done, he approached Daventry as requested. “We can find our way now,” Daventry said, and handed the lad the two guineas he’d promised him.

The lad stood there, stunned, even as Waltham’s men led the expedition back down the trail to the beach. They heard the moaning of the wounded for about five minutes, and then they heard nothing. They arrived on the beach and found the launch waiting to take them back.

Granger stood stoically on the quarterdeck, waiting for the expedition to return. He’d heard the gunfire, and he was relieved to see most of the men return on their own power. “Dr. Jackson, you’ll have some wounded men to tend to,” he said, seeing two of the men with bandages, and being carried by their comrades.

“Aye aye, my lord,” he said. If it weren’t for the wounded men, Granger would have smiled, but he did note that two large chests were lowered into the boats. Within an hour, Valiant had recovered her party, the chests, and was spreading her sails as she headed west, leaving Rhodes behind.

Granger ordered that the two chests be taken to his cabin, and directed Winkler to make sure they remained closed. While Valiant sailed away from Rhodes, Granger heard the reports from Daventry, Treadway, and Waltham. “Your conduct has been perfect,” Granger pronounced.

“Thank you,” Daventry said. “I would recommend that we maintain our position while we review the information we have acquired.”

“I would have thought you’d want to return to London as quickly as possible,” Granger said. “While I must make a brief call at Palermo, that is my only distraction from that route.”

“Humor me on this, Granger,” Daventry insisted. Granger was reminded of his instructions from Spencer, telling him to accommodate Daventry.

“Of course,” Granger said. “Mr. Weston, heave to. I will be in my cabin.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Weston said.

Daventry and Granger went back to his cabin. “I would like to have McGillivray with me to record what we find,” Daventry said.

“I would like to give him some assistance,” Granger said. He sent for Patton, and as soon as he and McGillivray arrived, Granger made to open the first chest.

“Better let me do that, my lord,” McGillivray said, and all but pushed Granger aside.

“It is possible that these chests are booby trapped,” Daventry explained.

“Of course,” Granger said, but as it turned out, the chests were not laden with traps, but with gold and gems, just as the message had promised.

Daventry largely disregarded the fortune before them and instead grabbed for the two packets. The directions for the courier contained 5000 pounds, as promised, and included a list of places where the courier could acquire assistance along the way. “This is useful, because these are clearly people who are Guild sympathizers.”

“I can see where that would be valuable,” Granger said. He scanned the list, and unsurprisingly, he recognized none of the names and few of the places.

Daventry opened the instructions for Holkar and his eyes bulged. He handed the pages to Granger as he read them. Fortunately, they were written in French, so they were easy for Granger to consume. “This is why I wanted to stop.”

“I don’t understand,” Granger said, even as he read through the communiqué.

“These are directions for Holkar on how to conduct his campaign against John Company, and include detailed information on whom he can get assistance from,” Daventry said. “We must get this to Mornington as soon as possible.”

“Shouldn’t we let London handle that?” Granger asked.

“That will take too much time,” Daventry said. “We must send a courier to Calcutta.”

Granger stared at Daventry. “And whom are we going to get to go to Calcutta?”

“I will work on that,” Daventry said. “In the meantime, we must go to Latakia, in the Levant.”

“Winkler!” Granger said, passing the word.

“You sent for me, my lord?” Winkler asked.

“Please have Mr. Weston and Mr. Meurice meet me and Lord Daventry in the chart room,” he said. “We will leave you gentlemen to guard this treasure,” he said to Patton and McGillivray. Within half an hour, Valiant had once again turned east, skirting the island of Rhodes, and was headed toward the Levant.

“Now let us see what riches the Guild has pulled together,” Daventry said, and they returned to Granger’s cabin. They pulled out the coins and categorized them by type, and ended up with quite a few different piles. While there were Austrian and Hungarian Florins, Polish Zlotys, Dutch Guilders, Gulden from various German States, Florin from various Italian states, Spanish Doubloons, and Portuguese Moidores; the bulk of the coins were British Guineas.

“Do you think these coins came from Guild members in all of these countries?” Granger asked.

“No, but they would have come from several of them,” Daventry noted.

“This would seem to illustrate the long tentacles of this organization,” Granger noted ruefully.

“Indeed,” Daventry said. “And now let us look at these vials.” There were two vials, and they were filled with carefully packed sapphires and rubies. The stones were beautiful, and were surely worth a fortune.

“While these are certainly enough gems, I am surprised that there are no diamonds or emeralds,” Granger noted.

“That is an astute observation on your part,” Daventry said, “but there is a good reason for that.”

“Diamonds and emeralds are not popular in India?”

“They are popular,” Daventry said, chuckling. “But there are a lot of diamond and emerald mines in India, so acquiring those stones there is not a difficult problem, although it still isn’t cheap. Sapphires and rubies are not mined in India, or at least not in quantity, so we would assume those are more valuable to Holkar.”

They finished cataloging all of the coins and gems, and then they secured the treasure by putting the gems in Granger’s safe and a chest each in Granger’s cabin and Daventry’s cabin. Granger treated them to supper while they worked on their inventory, so it was late by the time they were finished. A very exhausted George Granger was happy to finally collapse into his cot after a very long but productive day.

Granger woke up the next morning and greeted the dawn on deck, along with the rest of the crew. They were making good progress, with winds that were fair for their trek to the Levant. Granger left the deck and went to his cabin, where he joined Daventry for breakfast. “We should arrive at Latakia tomorrow,” Granger informed him.

“I have found a messenger, two to be exact, but I will require some assistance from you as well,” Daventry said.

“I will assist you however I can,” Granger said.

“My men have agreed to do it,” he said. “I have offered to pay them the same 5000 pounds Jardines would have gotten.”

“I am surprised you would let them go, as you seem to be a very good team,” Granger said. Daventry’s men had a loyalty to him that reminded Granger of Winkler’s loyalty.

“It is not my first choice, but I think it is the only reasonable option,” Daventry said. “And since they are willing, I see no need to restrain them from volunteering.”

“There is another possibility,” Granger said. “Perhaps Lieutenant Waltham would like the opportunity to take this news to Calcutta, and perhaps serve with the troops in that country.”

“That is an interesting idea,” Daventry said. “Let us interview him.”

“Pass the word for Lieutenant Waltham,” Granger said loudly, so his marine guard would hear him. The young officer arrived almost immediately.

“You sent for me, my lords?” Waltham asked.

“We did,” Granger said. “The first thing we require is that you join us for breakfast.” He had Winkler set another place for Waltham, and then Winkler left them alone.

“Our expedition ashore yielded some highly important intelligence,” Daventry said. “Included in our cache are plans detailing the assaults contemplated on His Majesty’s forces in India.”

“I would not have expected we’d find battle plans for India on the island of Rhodes, my lord,” Waltham said skeptically.

“That is certainly not the first place I would look for them, but they were there, and I am almost certain they are genuine,” Daventry said.

“We asked you here to offer you a chance to volunteer for a special assignment,” Granger said. Waltham seemed to have a much higher degree of respect for Granger, probably because he was a uniformed officer, while Daventry was ostensibly just a civilian. “We need to get this information to India, and we need a messenger to take it.”

“You want me to go to India, my lord?” Waltham asked, and was clearly flummoxed by the idea.

“You have certainly earned some time in England, but this presents some additional benefits that may be useful for you and your career,” Daventry said.

Waltham looked to Granger, as if to ask him to explain things. “The messenger who takes these papers to Lord Mornington will earn a fee of 5000 pounds,” Granger said. That was an enormous amount of money, especially for someone like Waltham, who was not wealthy enough to have bought himself a higher command in his regiment.

“That is a very good incentive,” Waltham said.

“I agree, but there is perhaps a more substantial one,” Granger said. “Many soldiers go to India to make their reputation and their fortune, and to advance more rapidly than they would in European stations.”

“I see your point, my lord, but I am not known to Lord Mornington, or any of the senior officers in India,” Waltham said, pointing out that without patrons there to watch over him, he was unlikely to find such a posting advantageous.

“I can help you to rectify that,” Granger said. “I would think that Lord Mornington would be most grateful to get these papers, and I would think that if you were not his friend before, you surely would be then.”

“It would tend to endear you to him,” Daventry said with a smile.

“And in addition, Colonel Wellesley is a close personal friend of mine,” Granger said, even as he blushed slightly as he remembered how close a friend he was. “I would be more than happy to write a letter of introduction for you.”

“And while this won’t be of immediate assistance, both Lord Granger and I will certainly tout your courage and sacrifice to our friends when we return to London,” Daventry added.

Waltham paused to ponder the choice being given him, for it was indeed a choice, and the three of them focused on eating their breakfasts. After five minutes had elapsed, Waltham made his decision. “I must thank you, my lords, for this amazing opportunity. I am not sure exactly how I am to accomplish this mission, but I will gladly undertake it.”

“Excellent!” Daventry said. And so, while Valiant headed to the Levant, Granger drafted letters of introduction to the Wellesley brothers for Waltham, while Daventry spent some time with the young lieutenant, explaining how to arrange his travel, and showing him the best route to take.

Copyright © 2017 Mark Arbour; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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Completely enjoyed this chapter from start to finish; this book is another great addition to the Bridgemont saga. I was glad to see Granger stay aboard, I doubt anyone else would have considered the idea of sending additional troops ashore to be ready to assist those returning to the ship. Waltham is going to be a very lucky man; maybe he will get attached to Arthur Wellesley; that should do much for his career should he survive...

 

Can't wait to see what adventure you have cooked up for us next Mark, this is just the best story...

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Truly, a fine chapter. The way in which you have presented Lt. Waltham makes him very attractive, Modest, Handsome, a patriot? I hope to get better acquainted with him in future chapters. Thanks for yet another good read.

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Great chapter.
Granger showed his talent for command in making sure the treasure party had back-up.
Waltham is being handed an amazing opportunity. With letters of introduction from Granger his future is looking very rosy.
As for Valiant's crew - another day another treasure - never boring. Granger does it again and we all get a share.
Looking forward to the next chapter.

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Another superbly entertaining chapter. The dramatic tension throughout the journey up the mountainside was very well done. George as always, covered all the bases. Again, in this chapter, Calvert rose up in his thoughts. It speaks of his depth of feeling for the man. In answer to his question, these thoughts may indeed fade, but I doubt they will disappear entirely. Thanks for this latest installment... Cheers... Gary.

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Brigands! And I thought this book couldn't possibly get any better after the introduction of covert operatives and a quest. :)

 

So happy for the nice lieutenant, even though it means we'll lose him. Hopefully we'll get him back at some point. :yes:

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As the plot deepens and reveals the large spread of the Guild in trying to overthrow the British troops in India and enrich themselves. It is no wonder that Lady Elgin was trying to create disapproval for Granger. How wonderful that she failed in the trip.
Granger and Daventry seem to be coming together to battle the enemies of the John Company.
I'm looking forward to more of the adventures in this story.

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Hi Mark,

 

I know I don't review The Bridgemont Saga as often as maybe I should, but it's probably an even better work of art than The CAP saga.

 

The main reason I don't review chapters as regularly here as I do in the CAP saga is that I feel I can't do justice to the story, only reviewing the latest chapter.

 

While the CAP saga, mainly through its fictitiousness, allows us to review the behaviour of the individual characters, to me at least, The Bridgemont Saga doesn't allow that kind of leeway for reviewers. It'd diminish, at least in my mind, the amazing amount of research you put into this saga.

 

The Bridgemont Saga isn't so much about individual characters, as much as it is about giving us an insight into aristocratic 18th, 19th century England.

 

I'll definitely be reading up on the development of the Guild vs John company.

 

Thanks for sharing your goldmine of knowledge.

 

Lots of loving cuddles,
Maarten

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