The Captain`s Vengeance

and a twitch-whinny 'Creoles, though, are an excitable lot. As are most folk from Catholic lands, who speak their Romance languages. Talk is all they're capable of. To hear the rants in the cabarets, one'd think they were on the edge of armed rebellion, but… perhaps it's something in the climate that enervates them, or something, but they are quite incapable of ever really doing anything, in the end. The food and wine's too good, heh heh!'

'But what if it was different this time?' Peel posed. 'What if a small group of malcontents… young, excitable, and endowed with the will to take whatever act is needful… very like the cruel ones your sailors experienced, Lewrie… was of a mind to rise up against the Spanish. Do recall what your men told me of their schooner: she had two names, Le Revenant, or the Ghost, and La Reunion. Reunion with whom? With the new, Republican France? Hmm?'

'And you want to go sound 'em out?' Lewrie scoffed. 'Feed 'em money for their little revolution, then spring a British invasion on 'em? Well, good luck to you.'

'Exciting as that sounds,' Peel seemed to demur, 'as valuable to Crown interests as that may turn out to be… assuming that such a cabal exists, and would be more amenable to British possession than Spanish… or American, eventually!… I fear I have more pressing items to pursue. Mister Pollock is our eyes and ears in New Orleans. He can smoak out any hint of actual rebellion… which His Majesty's Government would be more than happy to abet and encourage, and, exploit.

'If this suspected cabal indeed is violently anti-Spanish, with the wherewithal to succeed,' Peel grimly added. 'Unless it turns out to be a forlorn and pointless geste, only a piratical cabal arranged merely for profit… In that case, naturally, it must be Scotched.'

'You're saying I can't whack 'em 'til Mister Pollock tells me I can?' Lewrie snickered between sips of brandy. 'You have an uncanny way of making simple things hellish complicated, James.'

'Mister Peel is correct, though, Captain Lewrie,' Nicely praised with his eyes alight with what Lewrie deemed a Crusader's fire. 'This must be explored. Should orders come to proceed against the Spanish, we must scout out New Orleans 's defences, determine the best route for invasion for Admiral Parker's part of the expedition, and, put paid to these pirates, all in one. You spoke to Sir Hyde, Mister Peel? Lord Balcarres, the royal governor, as well?'

'Dined with them, sir,' Peel smugly told him, 'soon as I ended my interviews with Lewrie's sailors.'

'It would appear your mission has grown, Lewrie,' Nicely stated. 'Sir?' Lewrie nigh squeaked in dread, secretly crossing fingers in his lap. 'Here's what we'll do,' Nicely declared, up and pacing energetically, all but swinging his arms at full stretch to clap hands. 'Sir Hyde has allowed me to, ah… coordinate things, so! Mister Pollock, your ship will sail soon for New Orleans? Good. Your role will be to discover whatever intelligences that Mister Peel requests. Lewrie!'

'Sir?' Lewrie reiterated, even more concerned, of a sudden. 'You are to go to New Orleans with Mister Pollock.' 'Me, sir?' Lewrie managed to splutter, taking a brief moment to glare hatefully in Peel's direction.

'Take your Quartermaster's Mate-Jugg's his name?-with you so he can identify as many people from that schooner as he may,' Nicely forcefully ordained. 'They didn't recognise their old shipmate the first time, there's good odds they won't, the second. Take some hands along… your real brawlers and scrappers. Pass yourself off as an American, or… '

'Hindu'd be easier, sir,' Lewrie spluttered some more, tittery with disbelief. Self-amused, too; sarcastically so, to imagine that he could be taken for anything other than British for longer than ten seconds. Hindee or Chinee might be easier!

'What… ever!' Nicely snapped, pausing in his pacing to bestow a glare at him. 'If, as Mister Peel suspects, someone funded the… Lank-diddle and Belfry, whatever their names are, we must learn if they're in it for the money, or for France. If for France, discover as much as you can. If for the money, make sure you stop their business. Blood in the streets, bodies floating in the river, the ships burning at dawn! If you can't get at 'em at sea, carry the fight to their parlours, and let 'em see the reach of the Royal Navy, and His Majesty's Government, when we're aroused!'

'That's not… ahem!… the sort of aid to the Crown my firm usually supplies, Captain Nicely,' Pollock objected, leaping afoot in consternation. 'Subtlety, d'ye see. To the Dons, I'm a mere trader. A useful trader. If I take Lewrie and a pack of bully-bucks to New Orleans, all my years of, ah… covert good works will end. I, and Panton, Leslie, could be banned, at the best. We could all be arrested… exposed, and publicly strangled, at the worst.

'Besides,' Pollock continued, turning to point accusatorily at Lewrie. 'What does he know of covert doings? How obvious may he be, I conjure you, sir? Why-!'

'He's damned good, really,' Peel interrupted, idly spooning up chocolate pudding pie, trifle, jumble, whatever, as if Pollock's thin shrieks of alarm, and Lewrie's red-faced surprise, were a street raree of only fair amusement. 'I am?' Lewrie roared. 'Last time, you thought me an idiot!'

'My dear Lewrie, it ain't like you haven't done this, before,' Peel pointed out. ' Apalachicola, in '82. The Far East in '84 or so. Genoa and Leghorn in '94? Actually, Captain Nicely, I rather doubt if you really wish blood in the streets. A thorough sounding-out'd suit our purposes, anent the pirates' financing and organisation. A viable invasion route, well… Lewrie is a most knacky Sea Officer who knows the practicality of transporting troops and guns to the best place for a successful, and quick, victory. And what's needful to support it so it is successful. Really, Alan… that's your main task.'

'Sea Officer, Jemmy!' Lewrie fumed. 'Wouldn't an Army officer be better for…'

'Gawd, who'd put trust in a soldier!' Nicely guffawed. 'Nought but idle fools who bought their rank and haven't worked a day since! Peel's right, Lewrie. You're better suited. Though it would be nice could you eliminate the known leaders of our pirates. Without their expertise, men of less repute might find it hard to keep their crews together. Put an end to 'em.'

'Far be it from me to cry 'croakum,' sir,' Lewrie tried to say as calmly and reasonably as he could, though he was nigh shuddering with anger to have been… 'bamboozled'… again! 'But I thought I was to hunt 'em down at sea. Just how did I-how did this-turn into… spying?'

'Your record precedes you, Lewrie,' Nicely told him, obviously trying to praise, but failing badly. 'Sir Hyde, the Governor-General, the Admiralty… Mister Peel's Foreign Office,' he said, waving one hand in Peel's direction, prompting a brief bow from the seated Peel, 'all think you can do it. Sir Hyde said you're the very man for the job, no error.'

'It won't work, won't work at all,' Pollock mournfully groaned.

'I can't see how it possibly could.' Lewrie heavily sighed.

'Fine, we're agreed!' Nicely declared.

It went downhill from there, o' course.

BOOK THREE

Gonzalo: All torment, trouble, wonder, and amazement

Inhabits here. Some heavenly power guide us

Out of this fearful country!

– The Tempest, Act V, Scene 1

William Shakespeare

CHAPTER EIGHT