The Captain`s Vengeance

muskets or pistols, but heavier ordnance, as well, hmm! Mister Ellison asked of the availability of brass four- pounders, or old regimental guns… brass six-pounders, or 'grasshopper' guns, Coehorn mortars and such.'

'Aha! I knew the man wasn't straight!' Lewrie boasted, since it looked like he might be the only one to do so over his covert delvings. 'So, he's the vanguard of a Yankee invasion?'

'His service during the Revolution, which Ellison revealed to me as quickly as he did to you,' Pollock smugly said as he carefully folded a pair of white silk stockings, 'does worry me a bit. Oh, that he's involved with some sort of filibustering expedition, I have no doubt. I fear, though, that is our Mister Ellison still a serving officer in the American Army, he just might have been sent to New Orleans by an incredibly aspiring man by name of General James Wilkinson, Lewrie. An aspiring man, indeed, ahem.'

And damn all spies, Foreign Office, amateur, or otherwise! Lewrie sourly thought; Twigg, Pelham, Peel, this clod, they're all the same… smug when they know something you don't, and damn' near pissin' themselves for you t 'beg 'em t'tell it to you!

'And who is James Wilkinson when he's up and dressed?' he asked finally, in almost a rote monotone, which lack of enthusiasm stopped Pollock dead in his tracks and made him turn, twitch-whinny, and glare.

'Wilkinson is the senior officer in charge of the American Army, which garrisons the states of Tennessee and Kentucky, Lewrie,' Pollock archly cooed, 'which is rather ironic, since before Kentucky became an established state in the Union in 1792, Wilkinson was scheming to seize the whole damned thing and make it a personal fief! He might have done the same for Tennessee, had he not been opposed by a set of politicians, lawyers, and planters even richer and more influential than he could ever hope to be. General Wilkinson came down to New Orleans himself in 1787, when the former Captain-General of Louisiana recruited him as a secret agent. He's known to the Dons as Agent Thirteen… bad luck for someone, hey? Wilkinson's well thought of by many in the Congress and just may end up the Commanding General of the United States Army in a new administration! He's rumoured to be close to Mister Thomas Jefferson and his faction, and Jefferson 's rumoured to be planning to oppose their current president, John Adams.

'Horrid idea, that,' Pollock quibbled, looking disgusted with Democracy's machinations. 'Set terms for public office keep bad men in place too long, and depose good'uns… when our way lets us call a by-election if one of ours proves himself a criminal or a fool.'

'They're an odd people, our Yankee Doodles.' Lewrie snickered. 'The way that fellow Ellison just blurted out his whole life story to me in the first ten minutes… prosed on worse than a jobless Irish poet! You think Ellison and his crew were sent here to spy out things for Wilkinson? If he can't have Kentucky or Tennessee, he still hopes to strike out on his own and take Louisiana… for the United States, or himself?'

'A very good possibility, given his past proclivities, Lewrie.' Mr. Pollock sagaciously leered before returning to his packing. 'If Ellison reports on how weak the Spanish garrisons are, Wilkinson may invade the Muscle Shoals, Yazoo, or Alabama River country right off. The Spanish have very little control there. Acting on Jefferson 's behest, he would raise his political prospects to the top of the heap with such a land-grab… and eclipse any of his potential opponents.'

'If the Americans start a war with Spain, it wouldn't be much of one,' Lewrie surmised. 'Not with re- enforcements so distant. Not as long as we're at war with 'em, and the Royal Navy in the way. And the American Navy to guard the approaches to the Gulf…'

'Unless we side with Spain against the Yankees, Lewrie. So we gain concessions in Louisiana and Florida to buttress the Dons. Then we also tear them away from France 's embrace,' Mr. Pollock dreamily speculated, head cocked to one side. 'Didn't think o' that'un, did ye, hey? Ahem.'

'My word, I-'

'Cheaper than mounting an expedition from Jamaica, and another all the way downriver from Canada,' Pollock wheezed with merriment at the possibility. 'My firm with an exclusive franchise from the Crown in these lands for good service… Ah!' Pollock took a long moment to savour that outcome, then suddenly sobered. 'Unless,' he grumped, 'Ellison's been sicced on me to catch me selling arms, acting on suspicions inside the Cabildo… or General Wilkinson's way of eliminating a British firm he suspects. Or, is in competition with commerical cronies backing his secret plans. Either way, avoid Ellison and his men like the plague, Lewrie. You've bigger fish to fry, heh heh! You've our mysterious pirates to smoak out… Lanxade and Balfa need running to earth. For now, those Yankees are an idle distraction. For my part, I shan't sell them more than a few trade muskets… profitable though such a transaction would be. There's too much risk from exposure, and a very public trial for spying. Quickly followed a public garotting,' Pollock warned, involuntarily massaging his own neck.

Executions in Spanish lands didn't required a gallows-going for 'the high jump,' doing the 'Tyburn hornpipe.' The Dons preferred sitting one down in a stout chair, then slowly strangling the convicted with a garotte… one agonising twist of the ropes at a time.

Such qualms on Pollock's odd features quite made Lewrie feel at his own throat and swallow a few times.

'No sense in arming the competition, sir?' Lewrie asked instead.

'Quite so, Lew- Pardon, Mister Willoughby.' Pollock beamed. 'I might even aspire to report Ellison to the Dons, do they importune me for a large consignment of arms. Or try to bribe me. And all of it well witnessed by my clerks, heh heh! Commerce, Mister Willoughby, is not quite so dull an enterprise as you'd imagine, ahem. When spryer and younger, and moving pack-trains among the Cherokee and Upper Creek Indians in the Revolution… fiercely in competition with Americans such as McGilliveray Sons out of Charleston, well… it was a war to the knife, and no quarter!' Pollock modestly preened over his past derring-do and skullduggery. 'Pan-ton, Leslie gave as good as it got!'

Sure as Hell I won't mention Desmond to him! Lewrie considered.

'Well, I think we're ready to go ashore,' Pollock announced. 'Whyever are ye not packed, Mister Willoughby?'

'Ashore?' Lewrie gawped back. 'First I've heard of it.'

'Oh, so sorry,' Pollock gaily said, not sounding sorry at all. 'Best for your persona, do you take shore lodgings in a modest pension or boarding-house. The cost is middlin', and the local cuisine's most delectable, bein' French, d'ye see? Best get cracking, Willoughby, or it will be completely dark before we get you settled.'

'I don't have a shore-going bag,' Lewrie complained, springing to his feet. 'No one told me I needed one, and-'

'No matter,' Pollock objected, 'for I'm sure we have a suitable valise aboard… for which I may gladly offer you a handsome discount, seeing as how it will go towards furthering the Crown's interests.'

'What if I just lease or rent?' Lewrie dubiously wondered.

'Oh no, that'd never do, Lewrie,' Pollock quibbled. 'For once we come back aboard, it'll have been used, and I could not in good conscience flog it off on someone else as good as new.'

Damn him, I knew he'd find a way t'pry me loose from a guinea or two! Lewrie thought; Tradesmen! Bah!

'We'll allow your Navy lads shore liberty, along with the brig's crew as well.' Pollock further blandly announced.

'But I haven't warned 'em yet,' Lewrie quickly rejoined, fearing what-all they might blab when in their cups ashore without a stern lecture. Would some of them 'run' was another instant worry.

'Then you'd best be at it, shouldn't you,' Pollock said, tapping a foot in growing impatience, and eagerness to savour the city's joys. 'If you do not mind, I will take part in that, ahem. Your man, Jugg, should be given a roving brief and a freer hand, since he most likely, in my cautious estimation, has been to New Orleans before and knows his way about… and knows the names and faces of those we seek, from his past, ah… employments? I propose that Jugg temporarily report to me, not you. Now 'til next morning, say, 'til Eight Bells and the start of the Forenoon Watch, for your hands' return, so they may carouse ashore?'

'That'd do, I expect,' Lewrie begrudgingly said, 'Uh, what'll I need ashore, how much should I pack, then? '

'Oh, no more than a change or two of clothing,' Pollock guessed. 'Your current 'sporting' togs and a fresh shirt