Tortugas… come t'take ye in, Boudreaux!'
'An' who be dat?' Balfa quickly asked, laying a cautioning hand on his son's gun-arm to force it down. 'Bide, cher … we ain't taken yet,' he whispered with a disconcerting wink. 'May not be.'
'Ye knew me as Patrick Warder, Boudreaux! Though th' Navy knows me as Toby Jugg! Throw yer weapons over-side and put up yer hands.'
'Nom d'un chien!''Balfa exclaimed. 'Ol' Paddy Warder? Ah-yee, you little t'ief! Stole a hundred Anglais pounds offa me and run off. Damn if I don't forgive you dat, long ago, and now you wanna arrest me and my son here, Fusilier, let de British courts hang us bot' an' end my patrie, by Gar? Dat he hard, Paddy… damn' hard.'
'Shoulda swung years ago, Boudreaux,' Toby Jugg called back. 'I figger this'll be delayed justice. Why I jumped ship an' run, 'coz I couldn't hold with wot you let 'at ol' demon Lanxade git away with in th' last war. Waddn't privateerin', but murd'rin' piracy…'
'An' you steal my moneys. You a saint, Paddy? Swear, I didn't know you, all dat fine beard ya got, cher, ' Balfa cajoled, playing for time. 'All dese years, too. By Gar, I know you, den, I'da let you go in a spare boat, wit' no harm. Always liked you, Paddy, you know dat!'
'Oh, aye!' Toby Jugg snickered. 'Right! Give it up!'
'My boy Fusilier be innocent, Paddy, dis his first trip, swear! Mort de ma vie!' Balfa wheedled, open-handed with his pistol below the boat's side. 'Fine, you take me for hangin', 'cause I prob'ly done sin enough for it, some time in de past. Can't recall, but… let Fusilier and dis sweet mam'selle go, Paddy. You want see a pretty jeune fille like her on de gibbet, kickin' an' stranglin' in de noose, an' no one t'pull her legs t'make it quick?'
'She lowers 'at damn' rifle o' hers or she dies right here an' now,' Jugg gruffly promised. 'She's th' Cap'm's girl from New Orleans. One 'at went a'piratin' as a man. One 'at killed him, too, an' all's a reason fer her t'do th' 'Newgate Horn-pipe,' Boudreaux.'
'He is surely dead?' Charite interrupted, aiming at the sailor amidships of the pirogue, but her gaze darting to Jugg.
'Looked hellish like it 'fore we paddled after ye, miss, aye.' 'Bon,' Charite cold- bloodedly stated. 'Good.'
'Guess ya got us, den, Paddy,' Balfa said with a weary sigh of surrender. 'An' dis was my last trip, too. Be damn' hard, though, to get cotched an' die wit'out a chance t'spend dat Spanish silver we got away wit'. Hope mes amis an' neighbours have joy of it. Ah-yee.'
'What silver?' Dempsey, the armed sailor, demanded. 'You t'ink I plan t'quit de old trade, I don't fiddle my ol' ami Jerome Lanxade?' Balfa chuckled. 'How much silver you find, 'board dat Spaniard, hah? Eight hundred t'ousand or so, was all, when we'd took two million! Oh, dey be a pile left on Le Revenant, but… you ask Paddy, dere. We promise de crew six millions, but de Spanish send it in three boats, an' dis mornin' was gonna be grim when dey find out we don't have it.'
'Ye cheated yer auld mate, Jerome, did ye, Boudreaux? I alius knew ye were a greedy auld shark, by God!' Toby Jugg mirthfully mused. 'Where is it, then?' Dempsey snapped.
'Mes amis, 'Cadien friends o' mine, take it away las' night,' Boudreaux Balfa explained, shrugging. 'Don' even tell me where it be, 'til I gets back home on de bayou, Paddy. I don' go back, dey'd split it… leave my poor 'Vangeline a bitty share. I do get back, I'd get all my share. Won' tell you where it be buried, by Gar, 'cause you're outsiders, an' Anglais to boot. Same th' same sort who kick us outta Canadian Acadia, kein? Go huntin' it, dey most-like kill you an' feed you to de pig an' 'gator, dem,' Balfa slyly, 'sorrowfully' told them. 'Ah… how much ye git away with, then?' asked Mannix, the sailor in the bow of the pirogue, his mouth agape in greed.
'Couple hundred t'ousand, wasn't it, Fusilier? You counted dem kegs,' Balfa asked his son.
'More dan dat, Papa,' Fusilier chimed in, cleverly catching his father's drift, and marvelling at the old man's craftiness.
'You let us go, we could go shares,' Balfa hesitantly pretended to hint.
'Ah, but you go back to your Navy, dere's no way you'd trust moi t'get de moneys to you, ah-yee. So I guess we all gotta go broke.'
'Fack th' Navy.' Dempsey snickered, lowering the muzzle of his musket a trifle. 'Wot kinda share we talkin' of, mister?'
'Here, now, Dempsey!' Jugg warned him. 'He's a sweet-tongued auld imp o' Hell, he is, an' most-like ain't got tuppence left. Cap'm Lewrie trusted-'
'Cap'm's dead as mutton, Toby,' Mannix sourly pointed out. 'I 'flow ye, Cap'm Lewrie woz a decent sort, but now he's gone, who's to take charge o' Proteus… one more o' them top-lofty, floggin' shites… a piss-proud, Irish-hatin' English officer-bastard? No thankee!'
'We're way out here,' Dempsey seconded. 'Outta sight o' anybody. Who's t'say we didn't get kilt by th' pirates we woz chasin'? We don' go back, nobodyil come lookin' after us. Best o' th' ship's off'cers ain't like Cap'm Lewrie, Toby… no skin off their arses if they come up a few Irish hands short. Not with all th' silver still aboard 'at prize schooner t'caper over.'
'An' didn't we alius plan t'take 'leg-bail' o' th' Navy, iff'n a prime chance turned up?' Mannix eagerly seconded. 'Think, man! We get listed 'Discharged, Dead,' 'stead o' 'Run,' an' no one'll ever be seekin' us! Free an' clear, an' in money, t'boot! How much in pounds is yer silver, then, mister?' he greedily asked Balfa.
A keg apiece, Balfa alluringly told them. A thousand dollars in silver was 250 English pounds, a lifetime's earnings to the average tar, and that set them to gabbling again. Balfa hid his smile; all the rest would be 'negotiations.' They'd already become a pack of putains… now they were haggling over their bed price!
'Capitaine/' Charite desperately interrupted, aghast that he 'd betray her, too; her heart broken anew over the loss of her last illusion. 'If you and your friends keep all our money, you lavish it on Anglais!… there's nothing left for our revolution! Would you have my brothers die for nothing} Don't you want to be French again?'
'Moonshine from de start, girl,' Balfa snarled, snatching that rifle from her numb hands. 'Money's always what matter! Dis toy gun outta air, mes amis, don' worry 'bout her! Your mates go along, so what you say, Paddy, mon vieux}' He hated to do it to her, but…
'I've a wife an' two babes on Barbados, Boudreaux,' Jugg morosely said, sighing. 'A bitty plot o' cane, bought clean, but we've worked damn' hard an' honest t'git it, keep it. I'd lose it all, if… '
'Send for 'em,' Balfa breezily suggested. 'How big your place?'
'Five acres.'
'By damn, Paddy!' Balfa laughed. 'Land in de piney-wood, north o' New Orleans… back o' Baton Rouge?… go for penny an acre, not a arpent! Keg o' silver buy you a plantation, big house, fine coach, an' a regiment o' slaves! Be set for life, you.'
