The Captain`s Vengeance

harbour, with wharves, cranes, and all. This sand spit ain't! It'd be treacly chaos to get 'em landed and sorted out quickly, then march them west… up a single sandy track, one weeded bayou. Did we get a regiment ashore per day, I'd be very much surprised. I'd be surprised all the more did the general in charge dare lurch into motion before a week'd passed!'

'Our soldiers can't be that slow, can they?' Pollock asked with a crushed look on his ill-formed phyz. 'Wolfe… Montreal…'

'A fluke,' Lewrie spat. 'Hah! You know, Mister Pollock… it might be better did we just slip the Dons a note and ask 'em what they'd take for Louisiana. Cheaper in the long run, especially when it comes to the lives of our soldiers, ha ha! Trade 'em Gibraltar or something?'

'Oh, for God's sake, Lewrie!' Pollock grumped, so nettled that he quite forgot the agreed-upon alias.

'I'll write Admiral Parker, and Mister Peel, an appreciation,' Lewrie promised, digging into their food basket to build a roast beef sandwich. 'This is the quickest, easiest route to the city's conquest, though I will have to include its warts… and my reservations.'

'That is, after all, one of the reasons Captain Nicely, Mister Peel, as well, insisted on your presence,' Pollock told him. 'Sooner or later, we must have New Orleans. Louisiana and Spanish Florida, too. To keep the Americans hemmed in and humble, on their side of the Mississippi. To pay the Spanish back for switching sides and taking hand with the French in '96, to boot!'

'Well, that'd be sweet, I grant you.' Lewrie chuckled. 'Damme, is that a twist of ground pepper by your leg? That's what's missing on this beef!'

Pollock handed the paper twist over, then picked up the sheet on which Lewrie had marked his figures. He carefully tore it to bits, as fine as confetti, then let the soft breeze scatter it.

'Put nothing more on paper,' Pollock warned him. 'Trust all to your head, or let me, ah… translate the numbers into innocent debits and such in a ledger book. Things to be ordered, shipped, sold, or as items in stock. Harmless code words, d'ye see.'

'Whatever you wish, Mister Pollock,' Lewrie happily agreed, in thrall to crunchy bread and succulent meat zested with mustard. 'You do a lot of business in codes?'

'Commerce is a, ah… cut-throat business, Mister Willoughby,' Pollock said with a cryptic smile. 'Ahem!'

They rolled down the sloppy streets along the waterfront levee, once they'd returned their hired mounts to the stablery, savouring the sunset and the cool, river-sweet air. A trifle stiff-legged, it must be admitted, from spending nigh the whole day in the saddle, and their fundaments, chafed thighs, and challenged leg muscles complaining.

Watching their passing image in one of the rare, large, glass storefront windows, Lewrie was put in mind of a brace of virgin girls toddling homeward after their first experience at 'All-Night-In'!

'And, there's your men, Mister Willoughby!' Pollock pointed out as Rue Toulouse dead-ended at Levee Road.

'Drunk as lords, I'll warrant,' Lewrie growled to see them all asprawl at their ease in cane-bottom chairs round a rickety table by the entrance to a lowly sailors' cafe. 'Damn 'em, I warned 'em to stay sober! Much good that does, with sailormen,' he despaired.

'They look fairly sober to me, Willoughby,' Pollock countered, back in his fully civilian and 'innocent' role once they had returned to civilisation.

'Hoy, Cap'm Willoughby!' Quartermaster's Mate Toby Jugg lazily called, lifting a wooden piggin by way of salute, without rising or doffing his hat; playing his own role to the hilt, and loving every second of it, Lewrie was mortal-certain.

'Aye, Cap'm L-' Landsman Furfy, that dim but capable Irish side of beef began to say, just before his mate Liam Desmond kicked him beneath the table. 'Ow, Liam, whad'ye do 'at… oh.'

Neck burning at Jugg's impertinence, but knowing that he would have to play up game, Lewrie only sauntered to their table, his hands jabbed deep into his trouser pockets most unlike naval officer fashion to join them. Clenched into fists, but jabbed deep.

'Havin' a free day, are we, lads?' Lewrie casually enquired of them, rocking on his heels with his wide-brimmed 'wide-awake' hat far back on his head, and with a faint grin on his face. 'Not gotten all 'three sheets to the wind' yet today?'

'Oh, nossor,' Jugg idly replied with a smile. 'For I e'spect th' last few days o' sportin' done 'em in for a bit. 'Make an' Mend' it 'tis, t'day, sor. 'Caulk or Yarn' an' all.'

'Short o' th' 'blunt' today, sor,' Desmond added.

Damned if they weren't drunk at all; tiddly, perhaps; 'groggy' for certain, but no 'groggier' than they'd be by the Second Dog Watch and the second rum issue aboard Proteus/

'Toby… Mister Jugg's been keeping a weather eye on us, sor,' Clancey, the youngest lad in his party, good- naturedly griped, lifting his own pig-gin in Jugg's direction in mock salute. 'Too damn' good, beggin' yer pardon, sor.'

' 'Sides, our money goes fur'der with th' doxies, we don't drink it all up, sor,' Furfy dared to contribute with a childish enthusiasm.

'An' would ya be carin' for a 'wet' o' yer own, sor?' the irrepressible Jugg solicitously enquired. 'For 'tis good Dublin stout, as sure as yer born, so 'tis.'

Lewrie goggled at him for a moment, nigh apoplectic at Jugg's effrontery, fighting the urge to A. jerk hands from pockets, B. curl into vises, C. leap, D. strangle.

'French beer?' Lewrie scornfully managed to croak at last.

'Faith, but that's filthy muck, sor!' Jugg hooted in mirth as he finally got to his feet and came within arm's reach, showing Lewrie the yeasty contents of his piggin. 'No, 'tis real Irish stout, brung upriver on good Mister Pollock's little brig, sor, an' not so horrid dear, e'en then, agin wot th' Frogs an' Dons charge fer their piss. Want a sip from mine, sor?'

'Christ, no I… '

'Need a private word, sor,' Jugg muttered from the corner of his mouth, darting his eyes at Pollock to include him. 'Been aboard our prize, sor, and I knows for sure about her, beg pardon.'

'Aha!' Lewrie barked, stepping to the table to pour himself a glass of vin ordinaire from an earthenware jug. 'Aye, Jugg, we should take a short stroll with Mister Pollock.'

All three took a few paces apart from the rest of the crewmen, facing south across the river to the prize ship and the emporium hulks, where belfry and taff-rail lanthorns-oil lights or candles-were now cheerfully aglow for late shoppers, casting long, dancing glades across the Mississippi, which itself had put on its gay blue-grey nighttime masquerade, instead of its daytime muddy-brown.

'She's our prize, sure 'nough, Cap'm… Mister Pollock,' Jugg imparted, rocking on his heels and wearing a grin as he lifted his mug to take a leisurely sip, using that gesture to point at the hulk. 'We went aboard her this mornin', so we did… Cap'm Coffin and th' First Mate, Mister Caldecott. Actin' like we might buy her, like.' 'Absolutely certain,' Lewrie stated.

'Oh aye, sor,' Jugg said with a snicker, turning to look at him. 'For I'd left me mark on her, by way o' speakin'. When we woz anchored at Dominica an' sleepin' aft in th' mates' cabins for a spell, I carved me name in her fancy overhead woodwork, right above 'er master's bed-cot… me name an' Erin Go Bragh, sorta. 'At woz still there, plain as anythin', sor. Down below, when soundin' her well, I found Mister Towpenny's cribbage board, too, wot he woz so proud of and missin' so sore after they marooned us. One he shaped hisself, sure, sor. Foot o' th' orlop ladder, t'woz.'

'Any clue as to who claims her ownership, then, Mister Jugg?' Pollock asked in a side-mouthed mutter, looking outward, and to an idle observer merely engaged in casual banter.

'Slow-coach ol' feller in charge o' her Harbour Watch, Mister Pollock, sor. He said t'ask for a merchant name o' Basternoh, or some such, who bought her, recent. I 'spect yer Cap'm Coffin kin tell ya more about that, since 'twas 'im did th' bulk o' th' talkin', but… seems I do recall a banker feller name o' Merrypaws was tied up innit, too, mebbe bought inta her as a 'ship's husband'… even help with th' financing did anyone buy her, sure.'