Читаем без скачивания THE GUN KETCH - Dewey Lambdin

Chapter 5

Abeam the Trades, on a soldier's wind, Alacrity flew like some mythical courier, threading between Rum Cay and Watling's, and out to deep ocean, taking the outside passage nor'east of Samana Cay, a day's run of 160 nautical miles from one noon to the next When they "shot" the sun, they'd gained 72°40' west and 23°30' north.

"Another day's run'll put us in Turks Passage, sir," Lieutenant Ballard nodded happily as he stowed his sextant away after taking noon sights.

"Wish to God we'd done this months ago." Lewrie paced, restless and impatient. "Garvey might have relented. Whippet may no ' longer be in the Caicos."

"He hadn't relented against us, sir, so why should he spare her before Alacrity" Ballard shrugged. "I still can't absorb the fact our commodore is up to his neck in collusion with Finney and his pirates!"

"Money!" Lewrie snapped, scanning his masts to see if there was one more place where stuns'ls or stays'ls could be deployed that wasn't already being used. "It all boils down to money. What happens to the crews of the pirated ships, he never sees, and it's no concern of his. Even if he did sometimes wonder 'bout it, then money is a great salve to one's conscience."

God knows when I stole that French Commissary gold in '81, it, did a power o' good for mine, Alan confessed to himself with a rueful grin.

"Sails ho!" the mainmast lookout called from the cross-trees of the upper mast. "Deck, there! Two ships beatin' nor'west, fine on the bows!"

"What's showing?" Ballard hallooed back in that deep, carrying voice which was a surprise for most to hear coming from such a small man.

"Tops'ls 'bove the horizon, sir! Courses, a corner! Under all plain sail!" the answer came wailing back.

"No one's running from pirates, then. They'd have their royals and t'gallants flying, else," Lewrie speculated. "Damme, as much as I hate to, we'll have to close 'em and speak 'em. They might be Yankee interlopers."

"Shall we board them if they are, sir?" Ballard queried.

Alan tried to imagine how long a delay that would be-hours, a whole day, if they had to inspect cargoes and manifests, fetched-to!

"No, Mister Ballard, we'll close 'em, and see if they frighten off with a stern warning," he announced. "We can't spare the time!"

"Sir!" the lookout said after skinning down a stay to the deck. "Capt'n, sir! I seen those ships afore. One's Whippet, sir. And the other's that Yankee merchantman we saved last year, the Sarah and Jane."

"Whippet, by God!" Lewrie whooped with sudden delight. "Thankee, Lord, thankee kindly! Mister Ballard, did you hear, sir? Wear us hard on the wind, get us up to windward of 'em so we may take station on 'em as they fetch us. And get my gig down and ready."

"Aye, aye, sir!"

It was Whippet, shepherding the dowdy Sarah and Jane of the year before off West Caicos. As they came hull-up over the horizon and the distance between them shrank, Lewrie could make out a Yankee flag flying beneath the Red Ensign aboard Sarah and Jane as a prize. Alacrity reduced sail, and as they came abeam, hauled her wind to leeward, and rounded up a quarter-mile off Whippet's starboard side. All three vessels then fetched up into the winds, and Lewrie was in his gig and off towards Whippet before Rodgers could hoist "Captain Repair On Board."

"Damn my eyes, what the devil're you doin' down here, Lewrie?" Rodgers shouted, pumping his hand energetically after the salutes were done. "You'd not be poachin' in my own game park, would ya now?"

"There's been wondrous news from Nassau, sir, so I…"

"News from Nassau?" Rodgers gawped, getting keener. "Then you're leagues ahead o' me, Lewrie. I haven't gotten letter onefrom anybody since I fetched Turks Island! Thank God I stumbled over this Yankee clown, buyin' an' sellin', bold as brass, in Hawk's Nest Harbour, which gives me a legitimate excuse t'sail back to New Providence."

"Aye, sir, but…" Lewrie tried to interject, but Rodgers was on one of his "tears."

"Damme, sir, Whippet's ready t'drop her quick-work, same as the Royal George, an' sink at her moorin's," Rodgers ranted on. "Copperin' or no, she leaks like a sieve, there's a forest o' weed on her, and I suspect I'm teredo-wormed! Thank Christ, here comes an interloper for me to arrest an' take back to Admiralty Court, so I may get her into a dockyard 'fore we keel over an' go under."

"Sir, if you would but listen to me…"

"Well, if it ain't young Captain Lewrie!" Sarah and Jane's captain said, coming on deck to join them. "Now you're here, young sir, I trust you'll tell Commander Rodgers how I aided the Royal Navy, and let me go 'bout me innocent occasions, as you did last year, sir. I've already give him enough threats 'bout false arrest and all. But will he heed me, sir? He will not!"

"I've noticed," Alan snapped in exasperation. "Captain Grant, I recall. Delighted to make your acquaintance again, sir. I did warn you, did I not; sir, that you should not return to Bahamian waters?"

"I'm but a poor merchant skipper, sir, and…"

"Later, perhaps, sir," Lewrie cut him off. "Commander Rodgers, I've abandoned my patrol area. There's news from Nassau, and we have to talk. It's urgent, sir!"

"Signal Ballard to get underway," Rodgers nodded. "And let us go below. Mister Cargyle? Get sail on her and resume our course!"

"Good Christ!" Rodgers sighed when Lewrie had finished. Hehad cut his hair much shorter for summer, close to the scalp as an urchin infested with lice and fleas, and he rubbed his stubble with two hands. "The bastard! The son of a bitch! No, more'n a bastard, he's a bastardly gullion! In league with Finney an' his pirates? I always wondered how he could afford that palacio of his. Damn' near good as the Governor's mansion, an' filled with fine plate an' furnishin's. A commodore won't draw more a year'n a post-captain of a 1st Rate, an' Ј350 or so won't cover half his expenses, high's he's been livin'. Him an' that chick-a-biddy wife o' his, that semi-ugly daughter, an' good Chaplain Townsley an' his lawful blanket're sure to be expensive to keep as well. What'd ya wager, Lewrie, he banks with Finney's private merchant bank, an' there'll be no way your Mr. Boudreau and Solicitor-General Wylly'd ever smoke him out?"

"I hadn't thought of that, sir," Lewrie deflated as he poured them more claret from Rodgers' much-depleted final stock. "Surely, though, there must be something we can do, if the investigation can't convict them."

"I'm tempted t'sail into Nassau Harbour, all guns blazin', myself," Rodgers gloomed, knocking back half a glass." 'Nother reason for action. Damme, but I'm outa champagne! Wish we knew which ships were patrolling where. That might give us a clue as to where to go."

"Banned though we are from going north," Lewrie commented with a sneer.

"We've this interloper Grant as a fine excuse," Rodgers perked up, leaning his elbows on the table they shared. "He has t'face the Admiralty Court for violatin' the Navigation Acts."

"Not both of us, sir," Lewrie counseled. "You and Whippet, for certain. And the Governor's Council and the Bahamian Assembly were kicking 'round the idea of turning Nassau into a free port If they vote that in, Finney's undutied goods are safe as houses from here on out. Might as well void the Navigation Acts, too, I suppose."

"Did you really let him off last year?" Rodgers grinned.

"Needed his testimony hellish bad, sir," Lewrie blushed. "Only way I knew to have evidence the pirates were caught in the act. But I thought he was smart enough to take my warning to heart. What was Captain Grant up to?"

"Sellin' bricks an' timber, buyin' salt, so the Yankee fisheries can preserve their stock-fish for export," Rodgers sniffed. "Hell, name a good he wasn't sellin'!"

"So he's bung to his deckheads in salt now, sir?"Lewrie asked.

"Aye. Takin' it north as evidence against him."

"Hmm, sir," Lewrie grinned.

"What, sir?" Rodgers grinned in reply, expectantly.

"I was thinking, sir, that bagged salt is just as good as dirt-filled gabions to absorb round-shot and musketry," Lewrie mused.

"Whatever are ya drivin' at?" Rodgers asked, sitting up.

"Bait, sir," Lewrie explained. "Were we to find where pirates are operating, we could trail Sarah and Jane under Yankee colours as a tempting bit of bait with a Navy crew, armed and ready for anything."

"And just where'd we do the trailin', Lewrie?" Rodgers demanded. "We haven't more of a clue than we did last year. Walker's Cay was a fluke o' fortune." He winced. "Of a rough sort, mind."My Lieutenant Ballard suggested that one of us put into Harbour Island or Spanish Wells, on Eleuthera," Lewrie went on quickly. "They're major ports, and a man o' war from the squadron should be in the area, or at anchor. They could inform us where our ships are operating, sir. Now we know Finney's a pirate for certain, now we almost have it as Gospel our commodore's involved, where our ships are would point the way. Or, more to the point, where our ships are not."

"Or where fools such as your Lieutenant Courtney 'Cow-Flop' hangs his hat?" Rodgers grinned briefly, then scowled. "Lieutenant Ballard. God! He's the one got us banished, when you get right down to it. All that talk o' his 'bout irrefutable evidence, and that missin' slaver, Matilda.'"

"Damme, sir, but wasn't he right?" Lewrie pointed out. "Matilda was pirated, and her people slaughtered. There's a knacky wit churning in that head of his, sir, 'click-clack' like some German clockwork. I know he's right about this, too, sir."

Pray God Peyton Boudreau was wrong for once, Lewrie cautioned his eagerness; don't let him be a slender reed one couldn't count on!

And, Alan also warned himself; keep your bloody mouth quiet for once! I can't urge him any harder, or he'll balk like a hunter at the high fence! We either pull this off successfully, or we get cashiered at the easiest-or hanged for mutineers!

Rodgers twisted and turned for many long minutes like a corpse on the gibbet, shifting restless and frightened on his chair, trying to decide what to do that wouldn't ruin his career if they failed.

"There's Captain Childs in Guardian," Rodgers said at last. "I think he should be informed, Lewrie. About the commodore, that is."

Shit! Lewrie thought.

"The more who know, the more who talk, sir, and word gets back to Garvey and Finney, and then we'll have abandoned our patrol areas for nought," Alan shrugged, taking the softest approach he could.

"If Coltrop's in an Eleutheran port, word'll get back to them, you can wager a rouleau o' guineas on't," Rodgers spat, lips pursed in a sour pucker. "Dammit t'hell. Dammit t'hell, though… if they get away a second time! If we end up with nothing to show for it!"

"Not if they take the bait, sir," Lewrie promised.

"Hmm," Rodgers stalled. He slapped the table top hard with the flat of one hand. "Damme, let's do it, then! This Yankee-Doodle Captain Grant… I s'pose I'll have t'let him off, same as you did, once we find our pirates?"

"I fear so, sir," Lewrie nodded, all but turning St. Catherine wheels with barely repressed glee. "A small price to pay, after all."