'Sweet, spicy, but stout. What'd you say was in it? Rum, gin, brandy? No…'
'Captured Guadeloupe pineapple, Jamaican cinnamon, and allspice,' Lewrie said, shifting about in his chair and crossing his legs to protect his true vitals. 'Sweet, dark rum, aye, and a local, er… spirit-Why don't you tell him of our doings, Mister Peel?'
Peel mouthed a silent 'Damn You!' at him, then plastered a grin on his face for Pelham's benefit and gave his superior a precis of the raid, the latest rich prize belonging to Hugues, and her captain's loose-lipped talk of Hugues blaming Choundas for her loss, with all of Hugues's expected profits. Peel laid out the intelligence they had gleaned from their prisoners, how much they knew about Choundas's staff, his current state of health, his dealing the ruin of his frigate to Hugues for two converted raiding vessels…
'Choundas now only has two corvettes under his direct command,' Peel related, merely sipping at his own punch as Pelham continued his eager quaffing, and Lewrie had a single refill. 'Hugues won't give up a single row-boat more, sir. We learned that Choundas escorted a store ship filled mostly with munitions to Guadeloupe, with very few spare spars or canvas for his own ships, beyond what they stowed aboard.'
'Short-sighted, that,' Lewrie felt emboldened to add, since Mr. Pelham was soaking up the report (along with the punch) in a most amenable fashion, even going so far as to utter the odd 'Oh, well played!' and 'Ye don't say!' every now and then.
'There is another small three-master, a captured American ship, at Pointe-a-Pitre, awaiting convoying to Saint Domingue, that bears a cargo of armaments,' Mr. Peel carefully laid out. 'Both await orders from General Hedouville, whether they go to L'Ouverture, or Rigaud. I… that is, we… do not think they will ever sail, though, with our foe Choundas stripped of strong escorts. Both corvettes are cruising far South on the Spanish Main for prizes…'
'Yankee ships, mostly, this deep into hurricane season,' Lewrie added. 'And anyway, they can't be expected back at Guadeloupe for at least a fortnight, depending on how successful their cruise has been. We asked some Yankee merchant captains how many of their ships could still be down there, and-'
'Slim pickings, with everyone eager to get their cargoes home past the Cape Hatteras weather, sir,' Peel hurriedly, dismissively explained to cover Lewrie's gaffe, and quickly changing the subject. 'We've played a nasty trick on Choundas, one that will keep him busy peeking under his bed-covers. Our first raid, and destroying his frigate at her Weakest moment… as was our second, seemed so timely that our recent prisoners expressed the worry that there may be a spy sneaking messages offshore to us. Choundas, as we intended, sir, knows that Captain Lewrie is responsible,' Mr. Peel glibly said, with a confidential chuckle. 'But, as we also know, Choundas holds a low opinion of the good captain's intelligence!'
'Quite right,' Pelham heartily, though woozily, agreed.
'Arrr,' was Lewrie's affronted comment to that, all but sticking his tongue out at Peel.
'And no one can be that lucky, so… I let slip that another of Choundas's ancient foes, Mister Zachariah Twigg, was out here and directing Lewrie's activities,' Mr. Peel snickered. 'Which accidental revelation should be reaching Choundas through our exchanged prisoners even as we speak, sir. That news, and the strong suspicion that there is someone extremely close to Choundas secretly in our pay, will drive him mad. A spy who is now collaborating with secret Royalists and enemies of his precious Republic whom Victor Hugues didn't catch in his initial witch- hunt, will…'
'Why Twigg, Mister Peel?' Pelham crossly blurted. 'Why not use my name? Ain't Pelhams canny enough?'
Lewrie awarded himself a larger sip of punch from his engraved silver mug from his days as captain of HMS Jester; concealing a gladsome grin to see Mr. Pelham beginning to succumb to corn- whisky. He even began to hum 'The Jolly Miller' under his breath, delighting in the chorus: 'the longer we sit here and drink, the merrier we shall bel'
'Well, sir, beg your pardon, but… Choundas has never heard of you,' Peel patiently explained. ' 'Twas Mister Twigg, in partnership with Captain Lewrie, who bested him twice before. And the longer you are unknown to the French, the more effective you are.
'But, once Choundas hears that my old mentor has been sicced on him, with Lewrie for his weapon, his worst dreads will be realised. He will credit Mister Twigg with being able to turn a trusted subordinate against him, and that will smart considerably. Imagining that Twigg opposes him once more fits Choundas's vanity like a glove, too, sir… makes him feel as if our side still rightly fears him and his un-diminished capabilities, which made us desperate enough to bring Mister Twigg out of well-earned retirement-a retirement of which Paris surely is aware!-to estop Choundas one last time, and…'
'And if Choundas don't win,' Lewrie felt relaxed enough to add to Mr. Peel's subtle blandishments, 'he's done for, this time, and he sure t'God knows it, too. No partial coup, either. For him, it's all or nothing. He can't allow us a single trick, or he's dealt out of the game. Desp'rate enough, t'begin with. Now…'?'
'Until his corvettes return, there's nought he can accomplish,' Mr. Peel continued from Pelham's other side, making that worthy swivel rather ponderously. 'That's enough time to concentrate on his alleged traitor-spy, and that spy's collaborators. Why, sir, Choundas'll tear Guadeloupe down to bed-rock. He'll decimate his household, Victor Hugues's staff as well. Anyone privy to their plans will be suspect, anyone the slightest bit connected to people privy to plans. Mistresses, whores, body-servants…?'
'No love lost 'twixt Choundas and Hugues from the very start, we… Mister Peel learned,' Lewrie gruffly contributed.
'Hugues, we heard, suspects that Choundas was dispatched as his replacement as governor of Guadeloupe,' Mr. Peel informed Pelham, with a nod and smile for Lewrie's interruption, which had slewed Mr. Pelham about again, his aristocratic head now wobbling on his neck, with one eye squinted in 'concentration' or to maintain his focus. 'Choundas has been slighted from the moment he set foot on the island, and hates the way he's been treated.'
'Man that hideous,' Pelham blearily mused, 'can't have too many objections, when folk run screamin', or shun 'im.'
'Did Victor Hugues fail to 'vet' his staff, or miss a few well-placed… 'reactionaries,' they call them,' Peel went on, which hauled Pelham's gaze back to him, 'in his brutal witch-hunt, Choundas would be more than happy to turn up a few, and make Hugues look the fool. Maybe Choundas does have a secret brief from the Directory to supplant him if Hugues seems to be losing his grip on things. Who knows?
'At any rate, I 'accidentally' offered up clues pointing to one man extremely close to Choundas,' Peel confided to his superior, with a sly-boots' grin. 'His clerk and private secretary, Etienne de Gougne. He's slurred as 'the Mouse,' a meek little scribbler too frightened of the consequences to leave his employ, we discovered.'
'Him or Choundas, sooner or later,' Lewrie idly stated, one leg atop his desk in sublime ease. 'Choundas loses, the little bastard is done for. Knows too much, and Choundas couldn't let him live to blab, else old sins'd come back to get Choundas shortened by the guillotine.'
'And we know Choundas's penchant for cruelty, Mister Pelham,' Peel said, hiding a wider grin to see Pelham's eyes slewing beyond his head's direction, and starting to glaze over. 'A shot at torturing the truth from the unfortunate fellow will suit Choundas down to his toes. Frustrate him, too, since this idiot de Gougne knows nothing and can't name any names… Choundas will go barking-mad, I expect, and turn all his attention on a hunt for our spies. He touches Hugues's staff, Hugues slaps him down, takes command of his remaining ships, and Choundas goes back to France in chains, disgraced and probably down for the mad-house, to boot! Driven to insanity by one too many intrigues.'
'Hmmm,' Pelham uttered, polishing off another mug of that perfidious punch, and dipping himself a replacement. 'Don't know, Peel.'
'He'll be kept so busy, so distracted…' Peel pressed.
'Ever think we do have spies on Guadeloupe, hah?' Pelham suddenly snapped. 'Choundas snaps 'em up like pickin' daisies, where are we then? His clerk, well… dies 'thout namin' names, a wider hunt will turn up real'uns, shuh… surely!'
'Anyone we know?' Lewrie was forced to ask in curiosity.
