THE GUN KETCH

boarders.'

'Aye, aye, sir!' Ballard snapped, sounding almost enthusiastic. Lewrie jumped to the top of the bulwarks, drew pistol and sword, and leapt for Guineaman's fore-chain platform to scramble alongside his men to the forward gangway.

'Christ!' he shuddered, seeing the devastation that his cannon had wrought. The waist was filled with dying men, half lost in scraps of wood, in a maze of broken timbers. Several of the larboard cannon had come loose from the shattered bulwarks and had rolled down on the men serving the starboard battery, crushing them like millwheels.

Those who could were already raising their hands in surrender, the urge to fight shot out of them. Lewrie went over to the. starboard side to make his way aft to the quarter-deck, where some of Guineaman' mates stood or sat around the butt of the mizzenmast.

'You!' Captain Malone growled, half in shock at the ruin of his ship. He brought up the tip of his sword while the others got out of their way, ostentatiously empty-handed as Alacrity's boarding party came to back Lewrie up. 'What are you doin' here? We thought…'

'Maybe 'Calico Jack' couldn't afford to bribe Commodore Garvey any longer, Malone,' Lewrie offered, thinking fast, and hoping for a confirmation. 'Now we've a new Royal Governor, the price went up too high. You and Finney are on your own.'

Lewrie reached out with the tip of his hanger to ring steel on steel; one beat, two beats, tip to tip on Malone's sword. Malone went backwards, crouched over more like a knife-fighter, body square-on.

'Either drop that sword, or do something real with it, Malone,' Lewrie snarled. 'Fight me, you coward! Got the nutmegs for it, hey?'

Malone allowed the next beat to slap his blade low and away as he let go the hilt and dropped it on the deck. 'Oh, no, ya don't! Ya've put yer foot in it this time for fair, Lewrie. Aye, I'll strike to ya, but soon as we're in Nassau Harbour, it'll be you up on charges again, an' this time yer really finished. Firn' on peaceful merchantmen…'

'John Laidlaw of the Fortune schooner says different,' Lewrie told him with a laugh, a laugh which was reinforced by the shock that Malone displayed, as if he'd just seen his own corpse swaying from the gibbet. Lewrie stepped forward and put the tip of his sword to Malone's throat.

'Jesus, easy, sir!' Cony gulped from behind him. 'Don't!'

'John Laidlaw tells me Guineaman branched out on her own, did a little piracy on her way here to the rendezvous in '85. Was Finney upset with you, Malone, when you took the Matilda? Remember her, the Liverpool slaver? Laidlaw tells my lieutenant that if we dig in the right spot, we'll find the bones of her officers and crew here on the island. And the bones of over an hundred sick slaves you slaughtered 'cause you didn't want the time or trouble to heal 'em up before you tried to sell 'em off. Men and women slaves, Malone! Care if I and my hands do some digging, do you?'

'Now, look here, mebbe we kin deal, sir, if…' Malone gasped.

'Still have the stuff from Matilda, do you?' Lewrie sneered at him, pressing a little deeper with the point. 'Sure, you do! You're the sort that keeps his mementoes of good times. And that's more than enough to hang you for piracy and murder this time. You're done for, Malone, you and Finney, damn your eyes!'

'You'll never get 'Calico Jack,' ya bugger,' Malone attempted to swagger.

'Think not?' Lewrie laughed again. 'Cold comfort to you the moment the hangman turns you off. But, I promise you, he'll have a noose right next to yours.'

Lewrie stepped back and sheathed his sword.

'John Canoe!' he shouted for the huge escaped slave.

'Aye, Cap'um, sah.'

'He's yours to guard,' Lewrie grinned. 'Special.'

'Aye, sah,' Canoe growled deep in his throat, taking Malone by the upper arm and hauling the heavy-set man into his custody as easily as lifting a child.

'Captain Malone, you're under arrest,' Lewrie called in a loud voice, turning to face the other disarmed pirates. 'All of you damned hounds! I arrest you… in the King's Name!'

'Damme, sir, look what ya've done with me poor ship,' Captain Grant bemoaned as Lewrie came aboard after funeral services for Burke and Midshipman Mayhew. 'Scantlin's shot through, bulwarks all chewed up. It'll use most of me spare timber patchin' hull shots, and what, I ask ye, will the Royal Navy do to compensate me?'

'Let you go free, sir,' Lewrie told him, in no mood for dealing with the shifty merchantman. 'Go sing 'Oh, Be Thankful,' for all mat I care. Last of your crew's coming aboard now. I'd set a course for home, were I you, and get out of Bahamian jurisdiction before we change our minds.'

'She rides light,' Grant commented as Sarah and Jane bobbed and rolled beneath him. 'How mucha me cargo did ye use for breastworks?'

'Rather a lot, I fear, Captain Grant,' Lewrie told him. 'We've dumped that over the side. You'll find enough salt left to keep you ballasted and trimmed proper on your voyage. Might even be enough to pay for your repairs and break even, once you pay off your crew back in your Philadelphia.'

'No profit, sir?' Grant wheezed. 'Damme, sir, a whole sailing season, a whole voyage wasted?'

'That's the risks you take for money,' Lewrie shrugged, then turned to leave, to go back to his Alacrity and escort their prizes, and their captives, home. 'Stay out of our seas, Captain Grant.'

'I'll write the consul,' Grant warned, following him to the entry port. 'I'll complain to Congress, to the President if I have to. And I will be back, ye know. Ye pass that Free Port Act, and I'll be more'n welcome in the Bahamas again. Me and every American ship.'

'Captain Grant,' Lewrie said, turning to face him, 'I've no more time to play this sly little game with you. Aye, they may pass Free Port Acts; aye, you may be welcome someday in the future, and you may cock your nose at me all you wish. Just remember, though, that a very good mariner and a promising young midshipman died this day making it safe for you and your ship to sail Bahamian waters. Don't make me dislike you. There's no future in it. Ask those pirates.'

'Point taken, sir,' Grant replied, leaning back a little from the intensity of Lieutenant Lewrie's grim expression. 'Point taken, indeed,' he reiterated, as he doffed his hat to him as Lewrie descended to his gig.

Chapter 9

John Finney was having a rather bad evening. He had stayed in that night, ostensibly to go over his books; but mostly to avoid the sneers he'd been getting on the streets since the mocking broadside sheet had appeared days before. Tale of The De-Bollocked Bumpkin, it was titled in large block letters. There was an engraving, a satirical cartoon below that which featured a slim young woman holding both baby and pistols, shooting at an overdressed, lump-faced churl in a hugely unfashionable wig, tiny hat and flaring coat, like a 'Macaroni' of a previous decade, the suiting portrayed as checkered calico, and the male figure leaping legs widespread like some damned 'Molly' in an Italian toe-dance company to avoid losing his wedding tackle. A long, stringy caption above the female read: 'In his abfence, my dear hufband's piftols shall defend mine honour, cur!'

Whilst over the leaping male figure, a caption read: 'Oy means ter have yer, niver a care have oy fer any damnd marriage vow- Oicks!'

There was printed below a short narration, a titillating story of caution to all lusting bachelors who pursued happily married women too hotly. No names were named-but then, none were necessary, as it stated '… as one here in Nassau did quite lately!'I'll murder Augustus,' Fiimey swore, tearing the sheet into tiny bits. It was only the fourth he'd gotten in anonymous mail so far. He was certain Augustus Hedley was the artist, Peyton Boudreau the author and sponsor, and Caroline… 'Thet bitch! Oh, thet bitch! I'll make her sorry she wuz iver born, I will! Wipe thet sneer off 'er face, take 'er an' have me way with 'er, make 'er beg fer it!'

He instead took another full glass of claret in two gulps, and filled his crystal stem with more. For the moment, he had more pressing worries. He returned to his ledgers, both the legitimate ones his clerk prepared, and the illicit