Among the plunder captured in Puerto Crucero had been a Spanish pinnace, with six small guns, which Cochrane had sent north with news of his victory. The pinnace, a fast and handy sailor, had orders to avoid all strange sails, but just to reach the closest rebel-held port and from there to send the news of Puerto Crucero’s fall to Santiago. Cochrane had also written to Bernardo O’Higgins requesting that more men be sent to help him assault Valdivia. If O’Higgins would give him just one battalion of troops, Cochrane promised success. “I won’t get the battalion,” Cochrane gloomily told Sharpe, “but I have to ask.”
“They won’t give you troops?” Sharpe asked in surprise.
“They’ll send a few, a token few. But they won’t send enough to guarantee victory. They don’t want victory, remember. They want me either to refuse to obey their orders or to make a hash out of obedience. They want rid of me, but with your help, Sharpe, I might yet—”
“I’m riding north,” Sharpe interrupted, “to look for Don Bias.”
“Look for him after you’ve helped me capture Valdivia!” Cochrane suggested brightly. “Think of the glory we’ll win! My God, Sharpe, men will talk about us forever! Cochrane and Sharpe, conquerors of the Pacific!”
“It isn’t my battle,” Sharpe said, “and besides, you’re going to lose it.”
“You didn’t believe I’d capture this place.” Cochrane swept a victor’s arm around the vista of the citadel’s ramparts.
“True,” Sharpe allowed, “but only because you used a trick to get your attackers in close, and that trick won’t work two times.”
“Maybe it will,” Cochrane smiled. For a few seconds the Scotsman was silent, then his desire to reveal his plans overcame his instinct for caution. “You remember telling me about those artillery officers who crossed the Atlantic with you?”
Sharpe nodded. He had described to Lord Cochrane how Colonel Ruiz and his officers had sailed ahead of their men, which meant, Cochrane now said, that the two slow transports carrying the men and the regiment’s guns were probably still lumbering across the Atlantic. “And I’ll wager a wee fortune that if I disguise the Kitty and the O’Higgins, I can get right inside Valdivia Harbor by pretending to be those two transports.” His voice, eager and excited, was filled with amusement at the thought of again deceiving the Spaniards. “You saw how the garrison collapsed here! You think morale is any better in Valdivia?”
“Probably not,” Sharpe admitted.
“So join me! I promised you a share of the prize money. That bastard Bautista took almost everything of value out of here, so it must all be in Valdivia, and that includes your money, Sharpe. Are you going to let the bastard just take it?”
“I’m going to look for Don Bias,” Sharpe said doggedly, “then go home.”
“You won’t fight for money?” Cochrane sounded astonished. “Not that I blame you. I tell myself I fight for more than money, but that’s the only thing these rogues want.” He nodded down at his men who were scattered about the citadel. “So, for their sakes, I’ll fight for money and pay them their wages, and the lawyers in Santiago can whistle at the wind for all I care.” The thought of lawyers plunged the mercurial Scotsman into instant unhappi-ness. “Have you ever seen a lawyer apologize? I haven’t, and I don’t suppose anyone else has. It must be like watching a snake eat its own vomit. You won’t help me force a lawyer to apologize?”
“I have to—”
“Find Bias Vivar,” Cochrane finished the sentence sourly.
A week after the citadel’s capture the reports of atrocities and ambush began to decline. A few refugees still arrived from the distant parts of the province, and even a handful of the fort’s defeated garrison had come back rather than face the vengeful savages, but it seemed to Sharpe that the countryside north of Puerto Crucero was settling back into a wary silence. The savages had gone back to their forests, the settlers were creeping out of hiding to see what was left of their farms and the Spaniards were licking their wounds in Valdivia.
Sharpe decided it was safe to ride north. He assembled what he needed for his journey—guns, blankets, salted fish and dried meat—and earmarked two horses captured in the citadel’s stables and two good saddles from among the captured booty. He persuaded Major Suarez to describe the valley where Don Bias had ridden into mystery, and Suarez even drew a map, telling Sharpe what parts of the valley had been most thoroughly searched for Bias Vivar’s body. Cochrane made one last feeble effort to persuade Sharpe to stay, then wished him luck. “When will you leave?”