The King

winkled a brace o' informers out o' the woodpile, but that was more serendipity. Ye've been a bad boy, Mister Lewrie, 'deed ye have. A very bad boy.'

'Was it anyone I told, sir?' Alan cringed, waiting for the thunderstorm of rage he imagined would follow.

'I was thinkin' more o' yer taste for married flesh, Mister Lewrie, not yer indiscretion,' Wythy said, glaring at him. 'Imagine it for a moment. Us expectin' the worst. Word o' our venture leakin' to our foes 'cross the Channel. No end o' shite-storm as our people trace back every man in the know, ye included, t' see if someone's blabbed in his cups'r whispered in the wrong wench's ear.'

'But I knew nothing to 'blab' before stepping on board, sir,' Alan replied, springing to his own defense out of long-established habit. He'd gotten rather good at it-had to have gotten good at it-since he'd been breeched. 'Sir Onsley only said Burgess Chiswick would be going to the Far East on some vital mission but I had no idea I had any part of it until the old fool… until I received my letter from the Admiralty. And I didn't connect my appointment into this ship with him until Chiswick came aboard, either, sir.'

'Ah, but yer patron, Sir Onsley could,' Wythy hissed evilly. 'What's more natural among gentlemen in their clubs'n t' answer an inquiry 'bout where ye are, lad? Under the rose, as it were. Well, let me say, yer former patron. Sir Onsley's stock 'round Whitehall 's not so high anymore. Find another, 's my advice t' ye.'

'But…'

'Had ye not been swivin' with another man's wife, he'd not have set henchmen on ye to kill ye,' Wythy drummed out, beating Lewrie on the head and shoulders with harsh words. 'We'd not have turned all the south of England arsey-varsey lookin' fer spies, not have spent over a thousand pounds o' Crown money to do it, either. Had ye the slightest bit o' sense, ye'd never been caught tuppin' her in the first place!'

'Lord Cantner?' Alan burst out in a near-screech of surprise.

'Aye,' Wythy snarled. 'Funny what a man'll stand for, long's he don't have t' be confronted direct. Funny the things a man'll stoop to once he is. Two brace o' murderers, one pair t' Wheddon Cross if ye'd gone there. T'other pair ye and yer man did for, all scum from a rookery who smuggled brandy an' lace for your Lord Cantner from the Continent. Seamen, might o' been in league with Frogs who supplied 'em. First pair come t' Plymouth an' nosed about, asking a lot o' questions. Even tried t' sign aboard this ship. Hah, ye didn't know that, did ye, now? Lucky we were a full complement when they did. Couple o' people in the pay o' the French got wind o' it. Began t' wonder what so many Navy hands were doin' signin' aboard Telesto. Never had a clue, 'less ye hadn't stirred up the waters, Mister Lewrie. Well, we stopped their bloody business. Stopped the business o' those hired killers, too. Dead bodies floatin' in a seaport town'r nothin' much t' get exercised about.'

'Jesus.' Alan gulped at the calmness with which Wythy spoke of having four human beings dispatched. He took a pull on his tot of rum.

'One o' our people had a little chat with yer Lord Cantner as well,' Wythy went on. 'Pity ye ain't back in London t' console the poor widow. She's become a dev'lish wealthy widow, of a sudden.'

'You… you had him killed?' Alan shuddered.

'Expired on his own, damn his blood!' Wythy spat, as though he would have relished throttling the old colt's- tooth. 'Right in the middle o' bein' told we had him dead t' rights for attempted murder. An' how vexed the Crown'd be with him. Apoplexy, they say.'

'God's teeth!' Lewrie chilled, raising his tot to drain it dry. Well, at least that was behind him. He'd not have to fear any more attempts on his life from Lord Cantner, anyway, though he wasn't sure as to Wythy's or Twigg's intentions. 'Hold on, now, sir. You said that you made inquiries. Did you ask of the Chiswick family? Did you pester them? Did you harm them in any way? By God, if…'

'Discreet inquiries, nothin' more,' Wythy assured him. 'I'm told the lass's prettier'n springtime. Soft on her, are ye? Well, she an' her family weren't run through the Star Chamber. And, ye'll be happy t' know that little servin' wench isn't truly 'an-kled.' My word, but ye're a busy boy, ain't ye, now, Mister Lewrie? But d'ye see just how much trouble that wayward prick o' yer'n has caused us?'

'Aye, sir,' Alan replied, as abashed as a first-term student.

'And ye'll not breathe a bloody word more'n 'pass the port' t' anyone, long's yer aboard this ship. Long as this venture lasts, eh?'

'Indeed not, sir,' Alan said, meek as a pup.

'And ye'll not go dippin' yer wick 'less I or Zachariah Twigg give ye leave, now, will ye, Mister Lewrie.' It was not a question.

'I should think,' Lewrie had to grin, getting his spirit back, 'that that would not be a problem for the next six months, Mister Wythy.'

' T'isn't funny, boy. Ye have need o' swivin' once we're in Calcutta, with our leave, mind ye, ye'll cleave yer tongue t' the roof o' yer mouth,' Wythy whispered. ' 'Cause if ye can't, if we ever suspect ye of any indiscretion that'd jeopardize this expedition, 'r risk men's lives, then God have mercy on yer miserable soul! Do we understand each other… Mister Lewrie?'

'Aye, sir!' Alan answered quickly, suddenly realizing just how dangerous this mission was. 'Indeed we do, sir! I give you my solemn oath we do.'

Christ, would these ghouls kill me? Yes, I think they just might! Goddamn me, what sort of a pack of monsters have I been caged up with? These… these blackamoors work for the Crown?

'Good. Ye may go, then. By the way…'

'Yes, Mister Wythy?' Lewrie said, damned eager to get out of the door, but held mesmerized like a bird by a snake.

'Seems that Lord Cantner might o' died happy in one respect,' Wythy allowed. 'The latest jape runnin' round his circle back in London 's how he finally fathered an heir, and the effort killed him.'

'Lady Delia?'

'Bakin' some young buck's bastard, aye,' Wythy noted, grinning briefly.

'Seems to be a lot of that going 'round, sir.' Alan grimaced. 'May I go, sir? Is that all you wish of me for now?'

'Aye, Mister Lewrie, that'll be all,' Wythy said, retrieving the glass from Alan's nerveless hand. 'And I do mean all!'

II

'The nature of things is in the habit of concealing itself.'

– HERACLITUS

Chapter 1

Falconer's Marine Dictionary, by now well-thumbed and stained with tar, proved prophetic on the subject of winds when Alan referred to it. Running down past Portugal, one hundred leagues offshore, they had reveled in the expected nor'east gales, from 28 degrees to 10 degrees north. Then, with winter waning, they met the southerlies south of 10 degrees north, against which they beat hard to make forward progress. And below that latitude, when the winds did indeed come more easterly, they brought gloom and heavy seas in the region known as The Rains, where Telesto was sometimes becaJmed, sometimes boxing the compass in slight, vexing airs to the fourth degree of north. Then had come stronger easterlies, ferocious gales accompanied by chicken-strangling rainstorms and lightning displays worthy of the first portals of Hell to blow them south.