A Jester’s Fortune

locals. Never allied vit Royal Navy, you see?'

Kolodzcy smiled at them, nigh angelically.

'So Muslims might be best, after all, in spite of what Captain Charlton wished?' Rodgers frowned. 'Perhaps one of those provinces already broken away… Albanians, Montenegrans? Greeks?'

'Greeks, no,' Leutnant Kolodzcy dismissed airily, pointing his ciga-rillo at Rodgers like a tutors ferrule. 'Too terrorised by de Sultan's troops, on goast especially. Inland, Durks nod as strong, bud no use to you, dhose inland Greeks, who are still Orthodox Christian. Greeks on goast heff few boats. You arm dhem, train dhem, dhey organise into fighters who could rebel, once you are done vit dhem. Dhen de Sultan or one ohf his pashas hess to crush dhem. Make de blut bad.'

'Sorry… didn't get that last bit,' Rodgers enqired, shaking his head as if to clear stuffy ears. 'You said…?'

'De blut bad' Kolodzcy repeated. 'Blut bad. Blut bad!' he insisted, all but stamping a dainty foot, sure he was making sense.

'A blood bath I think he means, sir,' Lewrie offered.

'Ja!' Kolodzcy yipped. 'Egzagdly… blut bad.'

'Ah,' Rodgers sighed, a lot less hopefully. 'Quite.'

'Whole prowince, nod chust one willage,' Kolodzcy expounded. 'Unt long before you are done vit dhem. Gomplete massacre.'

'So,' Lewrie posed after a painfully long silence, broken only by the sigh of more cigar smoke being jetted aloft, 'just who does it leave us, then, Lieutenant Kolodzcy?'

Kolodzcy swung his right hand out, idly shook his empty glass, looking at Lewrie in silence. Griggs stepped up to refill him.

'You do nod vish de already strong,' Kolodzcy lectured, after a refreshing sip. 'Dhey are allied already, or heff no use for vhat you offer. You gannot employ existink gountries, for your Kapitan Charlton ist vishing anonymity unt deniability goncernink ties to pirades. Nor can you use Muslims or Durkish subjects. Dhey might be slaughdered before you could train dhem. No… de only people who come to mind… de only warlike Christians, who heff exberience ohf de sea, are Serbs. De Serbians. Ja, genauische!'

Powder-Yeoman Rahl says that! Lewrie exulted; damme, I can get that bit of German! He said exactlyl

'Serbians, chentlemen,' Kolodzcy echoed, sounding enthused for once, all but smiting his forehead for being remiss in not considering them earlier. 'De Balgan goast ist hodgepodge. Ja, hodgepodge? Gute. Croatian, Muslim, callink dhemselves Bosnian or Herzegovinan. Inland are Serbians, bud dhey are alzo scaddered among de odders unt along de goast. Eine Slavic people, Eastern Orthodox Christian people, gradely outnumbered. Dhey heff resisted conwersion by de Durks for centuries! Grade warriors alzo, who fight forever to win dheir independence from de Durks. Bud, nod heffink numbers or weapons. Fisherman… sailors unt zometimes pirades. Small boats only, bud dhey could sail larger, vit your help, unt vit your arms unt gaptured ships. Dhey gontrol some ohf de smaller offshore islands, alzo!'

'And they don't fear Turkish reprisals?' Rodgers puzzled.

'Ha, sir! De Serbians scoff at de Durks! Dhey vould radder die vit Durkish blut on dheir hands dhan liff as slaves, I dell you,' the little officer boasted. 'Serbians vould radder massacre a Durkish wilage, a Muslim willage, dhan eat! Dhat ist how dhey liff, raidink along de goast. Bud, boor bickinks, mosd ohf de time.'

'Sorry, again. Boor…?' Rodgers flinched in perplexity.

'Poor pickings, he said, sir,' Lewrie translated for him.

'Ja, boor!' Kolodzcy sulkily agreed. 'Bud remember, it ist de hungry wolf vich hunts de hardest. Unt de Serbian wolves are hungriest of all. Any ships vich escape you inshore, de Serbians vill eat up in de plink ohf de eye! Ships, gargoes unt grews, all gone… phffft!' Leutnant Kolodzcy said with a twinkle and a happy conjuring motion.

'Cargoes and crews,' Lewrie supplied without being asked.

'Who ist to say vhat happen to ships vich de Serbs take, sirs?' Kolodzcy simpered. 'Unt your gomplicity vit dhem you may deny. Dhey are nod zo many, zurrounded by zo many Muslims. Dhey heff grade need ohf you. Unt, vhen you are done vit dhem, veil… Ragusa, Dul-cigno, odder goastal powers vill not tolerate a strong Serbian pirade fleet for long. Competition, nicht wahr? Rebellion, nicht wahr? If vord gets out ohf your arrangement, dhen you can t'row dhem to de wolves!'

'Uhm, that bit about cargoes and crews disappearing,' Rodgers quibbled, making a similar conjuring 'poof of his own. 'Surely, sir, there will be Europeans aboard the ships the Serbs take, should they ally with us. There will be officers and passengers who should properly be detained, sent here to Trieste for internment or exchange…'

'Dhen your secret ist oud, sir,' Kolodzcy objected lazily, with another dismissive conjurement. 'Frenchmen, Batavians or Danes speak ohf pirades unt Royal Navy vorkink togedder, dhen…? Bedder dat dey disappear. Sold in slave-markets ashore.'

'Or their throats cut, sir?' Lewrie objected.

'Vat is old pirade sayink, Herr Kommandeur Lewrie?' Lieutnant Kolodzcy chuckled. 'Dat 'dead men dell no dales'?'

'No, that's out,' Rodgers snapped. 'Right out. Prisoners must be taken, given proper treatment. Held on one of those offshore islands, perhaps. Or your officials here in Trieste could hold 'em incommunicado 'till-'

'Anything else would be unthinkable, sir,' Lewrie chimed in, his dander up. 'The Royal Navy, nor England, would never countenance murder or enslavement.'

'Bud, you vill goundenance piracy, nicht wahr?' Kolodzcy mocked.

'Well, erm…!' Lewrie fumed.

'Dhey gome here to Trieste, dhen Austria musd take note, sirs,' Kolodzcy cautioned. 'Vord gets oud, eventually.'

'Let's say the Serbians pick a small, rocky island, where they'd be easy to guard, then,' Rodgers countered. 'Use timber and canvas off a prize for materials to build huts. Food and water come off the prizes, too, so it won't cost tuppence t'feed 'em, either. Your Serbians keep the ships they take, those that suit 'em. They can burn the rest for their metal and fittings, if they like, and have what valuables there are aboard as strikes their fancies, too. But… your Serbians should keep the prisoners alive, sir! No slave-market, no other harm to come to 'em. Save the ships' papers, manifests and such, and turn 'em over to us, with a list of all prisoners from each capture.'

'Head-money, sir,' Lewrie suggested. 'Like we pay our hands for taking a warship or privateersman. A set sum for each live prisoner… a shilling, or half-crown. So its in their interests to spare 'em.'

'Head-money, aye! Thankee, Lewrie.' Rodgers beamed. 'We've a fair sum already, with your Prize-Court. Even a gold coin per captive wouldn't be out of the question. But anything less than that, and the deal's off 'fore it's even struck. That way, the secret's kept, 'til we're ordered out of the Adriatic. Or the Frogs are beaten, and then who's goin' t'make a fuss? The losers?'

'Long as the survivors have nothing beyond captivity to complain about, d'ye see,' Lewrie added sternly. 'No torture, no brutality… beyond what prisons like, anyway. That's our terms, right, sir?'

'Take it or leave it,' Rodgers agreed.

And if we can't find Serbian pirates who'll abide by our terms, Alan thought, then it wasn't our fault Charlton's half-arsed pipe-dream didn't work, is it? And there's this whole hellish business, stopped altogether!

Try as hard as he might to be the proper junior officer, who'd 'shut up and soldier' no matter his own reservations, he felt a rebellious itch to find a way to scotch this before it gained much more momentum. He'd quibbled as much as he thought it politick to quibble. Rodgers had already warned him to keep his wits, and his cunning, to himself for a welcome change, and go along, showing all properly 'eager.' Yet was there a way to scuttle it?

'Then we're agreed, sirs?' Rodgers pressed.

'Aye, sir,' Lewrie spoke up quickly.