Ardiles, on one of his very first tours of inspection of the voyage, had taken Sharpe and Harper aside. “I hear you made your mark?” he asked drily.
“You mean Balin?” Sharpe asked.
“I do indeed, so watch your backs in a fight.” Ardiles did not seem in the least upset that one of his prime seamen had been hammered, but he warned Sharpe and Harper that others on board might not be so sanguine. “Balin’s a popular man, and he may have put a price on your heads.” It was just after delivering that warning that Ardiles had wondered aloud whether Sharpe and Harper could be trusted to carry weapons in any fight against Lord Cochrane.
Sharpe ignored the question and Ardiles, who seemed amused at Sharpe’s silent equivocation, perched himself on one of the tables that folded down between the guns. “Not that it’s very likely your loyalty will be put to the test,” Ardiles went on. “Cochrane doesn’t usually sail this far south, so every hour makes it less likely that we’ll meet him. Nevertheless, there’s hope. We’ve assiduously spread rumors about gold, hoping to attract his attention.”
“You mean there isn’t gold on board?” Sharpe asked in astonishment.
“Sir,” Ardiles chided Sharpe softly. So far the Spanish Captain had allowed Sharpe to treat him with a scant respect, but now he suddenly insisted on being addressed properly. Sharpe, prickly with hurt pride, did not instantly respond and Ardiles shrugged, as though the use of the honorific did not really matter to him personally, even though he was going to insist on it. “You’ve been a commanding officer, Sharpe,” Ardiles spoke softly so that only Sharpe and Harper could hear him, “and you would have demanded the respect of your men, even those who were reluctant to be under your authority, and I demand the same. You might be a Lieutenant-Colonel on land, but here you’re an unskilled seaman and I can have respect thrashed into you at a rope’s end. Unlike General Bautista I’m not fond of witnessing punishment, so I’d rather you volunteered the word.”
“Sir,” Sharpe said.
Ardiles nodded acknowledgment of the reluctant courtesy. “No, there isn’t gold on board. Any gold that we might have been taking home has probably been stolen by Bautista, but we went through the routine of loading boxes filled with rock from the citadel’s wharf. I just hope that charade and the rumors it undoubtedly encouraged are sufficient to persuade Cochrane that we are stuffed with riches, for then he might come south and fight us. We hear that the rebel government owes him money. Much money! So perhaps he’ll try to collect it from me. I’d like that. We’d all like that, wouldn’t we?” Ardiles turned and asked the question of his crewmen who, hanging back in the gundeck’s gloom, now cheered their Captain.
Ardiles, pleased with their enthusiasm, slid his rump off the table, then went back to his earlier question. “So can you be trusted, Sharpe?”
“What I was hoping for, sir,” Sharpe did not reply directly, “was that you might put me aboard a fishing boat?” The Espiritu Santo had passed a score of boats that had come far out to sea to search for big tunny fish, and Sharpe had concocted the idea that perhaps one of the boats might carry him back to Chile where, in alliance with the rebels, he might yet retrieve Dona Louisa’s money, exhume Bias Vivar’s body and restore his own pride.
“No,” Ardiles said calmly, “I won’t. I have orders to take you back to Europe, and I am a man who obeys orders. But are you? Whose side will you be on if we meet Cochrane?”
This time Sharpe did not hesitate. “Cochrane’s side,” he paused, “sir.”
Ardiles was immediately and understandably hostile. “Then you must take the consequences if there’s a fight, mustn’t you?” He stalked away.
“What does that mean?” Harper said.
“It means that if we sight Lord Cochrane then he’ll send Balin and his cronies to slit our throats.”
Next day there were no more fishing boats, just an empty ocean and a succession of thrashing squalls. Sharpe, under the immense vacancy of sea and sky, felt all hope slide away. He had lost his uniform and sword; things of no value except to himself, but their loss galled him. He had lost Louisa’s money. He had been humiliated and there was nothing he could do about it. He had been fleeced, then ignominiously kicked out of a country with only the clothes on his back. He felt heartsick. He was not used to failure.