anything Charite proposed. 'They'd make us American, please God save us from that fate. Brr!' He mock-shivered in disgust.
'No more than five percent to the fund,' brother Helio proposed to the banker. 'When the ship is sold, a second deposit, of course…'
'Five thousand dollars per sailor,' Maurepas haggled, 'making a total of, um… two hundred twenty-five thousand. Else, you would have to wait until I purchase coins from Veracruz or Havana.'
'Pah!' Balfa hooted, scrubbing his grey locks in frustration. 'Six thousand be better. Dat be two hundred seventy t'ousand, and I better be on my way wit' it down Bayou Barataria tonight. Sixty percent for de crew, like de ol' days, dat.'
'Then perhaps you and Capitaine Lanxade, for the good of the revolution,' Monsieur Maurepas slyly countered, 'might agree to reducing your share from twenty percent to fifteen, to be split between you. Merely for a short time… 'til the ship is sold, of course. For my part, I will agree to seven and one half percent, temporarily. After all, the sailors' requirements come before the officers', n'est-ce-pas?'
'You thieving bougre!' Capt. Balfa roared in protest. 'Take de food out de mouths of ma famille, you? Nom d'un chien!'
'Only 'til the ship is sold off, messieurs?' Charite quickly seconded, batting her eyelashes at Balfa, who was immune, and then at Capt. Lanxade, who most assuredly was not, despite his deeply held reservations about her ruthlessness. Still and all, Lanxade considered, she'd be a delightful temporary lay. Lanxade preened his mustachios a bit more and struck a noble pose intended to impress the mort.
'Naturellement, m'sieur Maurepas,' Lanxade declaimed, 'the wise leader sees to the needs of his men first. Bon! Seven and one half percent to me, and to Boudreaux as well… just this once, hein? It is necessary, though, that Balfa and I take the crew's share to them as soon as possible. Tonight would be best.'
Banker Maurepas quickly scribbled on the back of his prepared notes, heaved a wee sigh, then removed his glasses. 'With a pittance of two and one half percent in the Revolutionary Fund,-the crew will split fifty-five percent, or fifty-five hundred dollars, per man and that, I regret to say, is the best I can manage. Until the ship is sold off.'
The de Guilleris, sister and brothers, their cousin Jean-Marie, and their hired buccaneers shared equally glum expressions with each other, then reluctantly gave their consent to such a division.
'Bon,' Maurepas said, gently slapping his expensive calfskin book shut and rising. 'I will make the adjustments once I get back to the bank and will have the specie ready… no later than tomorrow evening. Tonight is out of the question, Capitaine Lanxade, but tomorrow, for certain. Will you bold gentlemen require your shares in coin at the same time?' he asked, forcing himself to be genial, fingers crossed.
'I will gladly let you carry me as a depositor in your strongboxes, m sieur Maurepas, but for a mere thousand in silver dollars ox pesos,' Capt. Lanxade grandly announced, with an elegant bow and 'leg.'
'You gimme five thousand,' Balfa tetchily demanded. 'My famille need t'ings from town, dem.'
'It shall be done. Well!' Maurepas said, brightening. 'I think that concludes our first, successful work towards the freedom of Louisiana, don't you? Adieu, mademoiselle, messieurs,' the banker said as he made a graceful bow and leg in conge, clapping his narrow-brimmed, high-crowned townsman's 'thimble' hat over his heart and departing the cool and airy apartment on the second storey of the elegant pension. Despite M. Maurepas's apparent gaiety, he once more felt the pangs of serious misgivings that he'd ever been damn-fool enough to become part of their bloody scheme! His reputation! His neck, did the Spaniards discover his complicity! Those brainless… brats who were sure to over-reach themselves or boast immoderate to the wrong people! Dear as reunion with France was to him, sweet as it would be to oust every last arrogant sham-hidalgo Spaniard, surely it could not rest on such a slender bundle of reeds! Where were the wise adult patriots?
'Need a drink, me,' Balfa huskily decided. 'Wash de foul taste of bankers away. Let's go, Jerome. Now we so damn rich, I'll buy.'
'Don't you have shopping for your famille to do first?' Capt. Lanxade reminded him, 'if we head down the bayou tomorrow night. I'll meet you at the cabaret, later.' Lanxade only slowly gathered up his hat and cane, his elegant new kidskin gloves, bought by the dozen on credit from M. Bistineau's store. Mile Charite had crooked a finger and glanced to the empty chair by her side when Balfa's attention was distracted, and Lanxade was curious to see if his sham 'nobility' and selflessness had improved his chances at putting the leg over.
'Oui, later, cher,' Balfa glumly said, gathering up his things as well. 'Mademoiselle Charite, Helio… Hippolyte, Jean-Marie… adieu.' He bobbed them each a sketchy bow, then clopped out through the hall door, his feet, shod for once in silver-buckled shoes and not the wooden sabots he kept for mucky weather or town visits, drumming on the parquet.
'And I thought there was money in piracy,' Cousin Jean-Marie moaned, absently chewing on a thumbnail.
'There is, Jean,' Helio said, going to the side board for wine. 'There would be, if you didn't spend all your time at the Pigeonnire, playing Boure.'
'Next trip, there'll be more,' Hippolyte prophecied, joining his brother for a glass, as well. 'There's sure to be. We could sail off to the west and take a rich ship full of Mexican silver and gold.'
'That would require a better ship than Le Revenant, young sir,' Lanxade idly responded, carefully seating himself beside the desirable Charite, who today was forced by societal conventions to wear her hair up and a gauzy but somewhat chastely lined high-waisted, puff-sleeved gown with dainty flat shoes on her silk-sheathed feet instead of knee boots. Her light, citrony scent was maddening to Lanxade's senses!
'But did we take another fast schooner as fine as Le Revenant,' Charite eagerly said, turning to face Capt. Lanxade and batting away like Billy-O with her long lashes, her blue eyes glittering, 'may not two small ships equal a bigger, Capitaine!' I know, you are our most experienced… mentor, in these matters, but could not two schooners, crewed by, oh… perhaps no more than sixty men, double our chances?'
'Well, mademoiselle,' Lanxade replied with one 'experienced' eyebrow cocked, 'I dare say two schooners would suit me better for the taking of a much bigger and well-armed treasure ship, oui, but…'
'And with two ships, we could place dear old Capitaine Balfa on his own quarterdeck again, as he most desires,' Charite suggested. 'Once we have the two schooners, of course. With two, we could seize a single ship full of coin and reap three or four times the profits of a string of poor captures, could we not, m 'sieur?'
'Assuredly, Mademoiselle Charite,' Lanxade all but simpered.
'Then we could afford the arms and pay with which to raise our rebel army,' Charite almost giddily fantasised, fanning herself with a laced silk and ivory folding fan, 'and approach even more capitaines to join us. Then
there would be no shortage of sailors. Quel dommage, that, for now, we seem to have so many men for our one little schooner. Two capitaines? Why, at this rate, it will take us years to build our secret fund with m 'sieur Maurepas's bank!'
'It would be a grave mistake to pay off crewmen just to save a few sous,' Lanxade frostily said as he twigged to what she was driving at. All for her foolish rebellion, but nothing for those who make it come about? he sarcastically thought; She's mad… the rest are just greedy! 'After all, who will form the backbone of our liberation, if we disenchant the ones we first recruited?
