Sea of Grey

'Uhm… he expresses worry about American frigates, sirs,' Mr. Durant continued, flipping through the private journal. 'He was pursued by one off Dominica… he was run one hundred miles in a day.'

'Recent?' Catterall demanded, eyes beginning to unfocus, after all, and starting to sound 'bull-horned' drunk.

'Recently, yes, Mister Catterall,' Durant replied.

'Must've been that Hancock, then,' Catterall said with a grunt.

'I'd've run, too,' Lewrie jokingly confessed, 'whether she was over-sparred and un-handy, over-gunned or crank. She's a fearsome and fast beast.'

'Privateers stand no chance on ze coast of America, now,' Mr. Durant paraphrased. 'Zey return to Caribbean waters, uhm… he suspects more American frigates… ah! Here is something, sirs. After ze break in relations, Paris determines to re-enforce zeir navy here… what ships zey may spare from Brest and L'Orient, bringing fresh troops and arms…'

Durant made a shrug and a moue.

'He rejoices, for L'Ouverture's victory over General Maitland,' Durant cautiously said, 'he congratulates ze noirs of Saint Domingue, and writes of hopes zat zey may be directed west to an invasion of Jamaica, rather zan east against Spanish Santo Domingo. But he does not trust zem, sirs, nor does he like zem. If zey go east, Spanish harbours might be closed to privateers.'

'Be a good thing,' Catterall huffed. 'Tally-ho, Toussaint!'

'A mission diplomatique is to be sent to L'Ouverture, soon, as I read zis!' Durant cried, making them all sit up and take notice of such news. 'Important officials who will ask L'Ouverture to reconcile with General Rigaud in South Province, so zeir armies may combine to attack Jamaica! And ask for a time of rest, so zey may build up his supplies first, and assemble suitable transports!'

'We must get this news to Kingston, at once,' Lewrie declared. 'Then rash right back, and hunt the delegation ship!'

'Pipe dreams, sir,' Langue sadly said. 'Their hopes for a try at Jamaica, that is. That'd take lots of ships, not a gaggle of potty little fishing boats, nor all their privateers as escort. Can't be done without proper ships of war, even with our ships of the line away 'til October or November.'

'Unless Bonaparte really means to hit the Indies, not something in the Mediterranean,' Lewrie objected. 'I told you he was devious as the Devil! Look at the way he gammoned half a dozen brilliant Austrian generals by sayin' one thing, demonstratin' one thing, but doin' quite another fifty miles away. Anything more on that line, Mister Durant?'

'Zere is another entry, quite recent, Capitaine,' Durant said, after wetting a finger to turn the pages. 'Before he sails north, to rendezvous with ze brig we capture, uhm… many privateer capitaines meet with an officer sent from Paris on the frigate zat delivers ze arms we take, a Capitaine de Vaisseau … a Post-Captain. He is under the Governor-General Hugues, to coordinate. He writes, 'If United States have turned belli gиrent, prey upon their merchantmen, those of useful burthen, and capture sufficient transport for future expeditionary use. Then, as re- enforcements arrive, under escort by ships from the Atlantic squadrons, both French and noir forces will combine for a descent upon islands now occupied by Albion,'… that is to say, us, gentlemen. The capitaine of Incendiare describes the new arrival as a most energetic and inspiring man… zough he expresses a troubling fear of him, due to his monstrous appearance, and his reputation as an ardent and ruthless chasseur of Royalists and seditionists during Ze Terror. He names him Le Hideux,' Durant said, turning the book about so they could see the entry for themselves.

'Huh? Beg pardon?' Lewrie stammered, wishing that his senses were not quite so foxed, or his eyes so mutinous at focusing. 'Le Hideux, did he call him?' He felt a cold, fey dread invade his body.

No, can't be! he quailed inside; Ikilled the dog! Didn't I?

'Oui, Le Hideux, Capitaine.' Durant blithely continued reading from the journal. 'Apparently, zis officer is deformed by many cruel wounds. He wears a black mask over ze right half of his face and his eye, to cover a blinding and a livid scar, it is rumoured. He has a bad limp, and must wear an iron brace over his boot to stand and uses a cane… which must be awkward for him, since his right arm is gone at ze shoulder. His name, he notes…' Durant paused. 'Mon Dieu!'

'Guillaume Choundas!' Lewrie spat. 'Mine arse on a band-box!'

'You know of him, aussi, Capitaine?' Durant asked, shivering.

'I killed him,' Lewrie whispered. 'Swear t'Christ, I thought I did, back in '96.' He stared blank and pale at the far partitions.

'Sir?' Langlie gawped, eldritch-struck by such a reaction from his captain, by such an ominous, rabbit-across- one's-grave dread. 'Did you say you… killed him, sir? Then…?'

'Who is the bastard, then, sir?' Catterall asked, impervious to superstition; nigh impervious to anything, by then.

'A fiend from Hell's deepest pits, Mister Catterall,' Lewrie at last managed to say, after mastering himself. 'A fiend who just won't die, no matter I've had my whacks at him two or three times. An evil, clever, murderin', bastardly gullion of a Malouin corsair, who thinks he has some Breton, ancient Celtic destiny, since Julius Caesar conquered the Veneti. Mad as a March Hare, but clever… oh, so clever!' Lewrie told them, shaking his head in queasy wonder, and pouring himself more port, a brimming bumper, with hands that barely shook despite his shock.

' Paris couldn't have picked a better foe to send us. Dangerous as a crate o' cobras, and not a jot o' mercy in his thrice-damned soul. He puts a squadron together in these waters, and he'll raise mayhem as sure as I'm born. Sew your arses shut, and keep yer backs to a wall.'

He felt another sinking feeling in his innards, and knew that it was not the result of indigestion or a tropical fever. 'You gentlemen will, I pray, excuse me for a moment,' he bade, tossing off his glass of port at one go, then shoving his chair back so hard that it nearly tipped over, its feet catching at the painted canvas deck cover. They rose in kind as he headed aft for his quarter-gallery again.

'Whew!' Lt. Catterall softly marvelled, clawing for the bottle to charge his glass. 'Never heard the like! If this… what was he, this Choundas, is that bad, and his presence in the West Indies upsets the captain so, well… he must be Satan incarnate.'

'You asked if Captain Lewrie had heard of him, too, did you not, Mister Durant?' Langlie enquired more sombrely, but also in a mutter that would not carry far aft. 'What do you know of him?'

'Rumours of him before my family and I escape Toulon in '93, Mister Langlie,' Durant fretfully informed them, frowning hard. 'And what he did to zose who could not flee ze Rйpublicains when Toulon fell. Six thousand guillotined, shot, or bayoneted in ze surf, wading out and pleading for just one more boat. Guillaume Choundas was one of those who purged ze Toulon fleet and ze city. He loves ze guillotine, ze torture… poor helpless women, and especially little girls in terror of him. He slaughter his way south from Paris, to every naval port, an enthusiastic agent of Ze Terror. I had not thought of him in years, Grace б Dieu! But now… pardons, gentlemen, but I fear it will be a very bad zing for him to appear.'

'But, surely…!' Langlie protested in a splutter that sounded half bemused, now. 'He's but one man, in charge of a pack of tag-rag-and-bobtail privateers… that's like herding cats!'

'No insult meant, Toulon,' Catterall grumped, winking at Lewrie's pet, who was hunkered on all fours with his tail tucked about his front paws on the sideboard, his eyes half slit in the dim lanthorn light as eerily as a witch's familiar. He'd meant to jape, but the atmosphere had gotten to him, too.

'Charge oн nothing,' Langlie persisted, sterner now. 'He might get the use of a frigate or two, that's all, and we've what… seventy or more ships out here? And we've Captain Lewrie, as brave and smart a scrapper as ever trod a quarterdeck! And we've Proteus, surely the finest frigate in the whole Royal Navy! We'll settle this Choundas.'