pastures beyond that. Black guns jutted from embrasures, and even from two miles out we could hear the wails of the faithful being called to prayer.
I’d had Jaffa oranges in Paris, famed because their thick skin makes them transportable to Europe. There were so many fruit trees that the prosperous city looked like a castle in a forest. Ottoman banners flapped in the warm autumn breeze, carpets hung from railings, and the smell of charcoal fires carried on the water. There were some nasty-looking reefs just offshore, marked by ringlets of white, and the little harbor was jammed with small dhows and feluccas. Like the other large ships, we anchored in open water. A small flotilla of Arab lighters set out to see what business they could solicit, and I readied to leave.
After I’d dealt with the unhappy marine, of course.
“I hear your famous luck got you into a tangle with Big Ned, Ethan,” Sir Sidney said, handing me a bag of hard biscuit that was supposed to get me to Jerusalem. The English aren’t known for their cooking. “Regular bull of a man with a head like a ram, and just as thick, I wager. Do you have a plan to fox him?”
“I’d try his dice, Sir Sidney, but I suspect that if they were weighted any more, they’d list this frigate.”
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He laughed. “Aye, he’s cheated more than one pressed wretch, and has the muscle to shut complaints about it. He’s not used to losing.
There’s more than a few here pleased you’ve taken him. Too bad your skull has to pay for it.”
“You could forbid the match.”
“The men are randy as roosters and won’t get ashore until Acre.
A good tussle helps settle them. You look quick enough, man! Lead him a dance!”
Indeed. I went below to seek out Big Ned and found him near the galley hearth, using lard to slick his imposing muscles so he’d slide out of my grip. He gleamed like a Christmas goose.
“Might we have a word in private?”
“Trying to back from it, eh?” He grinned. His teeth seemed as big as the keys of a newfangled piano.
“I’ve just given the whole matter some thought and realized our enemy is Bonaparte, not each other. But I do have my pride. Come, let’s settle out of sight of the others.”
“No. You’ll pay not just me back, but every jack-tar of this crew!”
“That’s impossible. I don’t know who is owed what. But if you follow right now, and promise to leave me alone, I’ll pay
Now the gleam of greed came to his eyes. “Damn your eyes, it will be triple!”
“Just come to the orlop where I can show my purse without caus-ing a riot.”
He shambled after me like a dim but eager circus bear.We descended to the lowest part of the frigate, where the stores are kept.
“I hid the money down here so no one could thieve it,” I said, lift-ing a hatch to the bilge. “My mentor Ben Franklin said riches increase cares, and I daresay he had a point. You should remember it.”
“Damn the rebel Franklin! He should have hanged!” I reached down. “Oh dear, it shifted. Fell, I think.” I peered about and looked up at the looming Goliath, using the same art of feigned helplessness that any number of wenches had used on me. “Your losses were what, three shillings?”
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“Four, by God!”
“So triple that . . .”
“Aye, you owe me ten!”
“Your arm is longer than mine. Can you help?”
“Reach it yourself!”
“I can just brush it with my fingertips. Maybe we could find a gaff?” I stood, looking hapless.
“Yankee swine . . .” He got down and poked his head in. “Can’t see a bloody thing.”
“There, to the right, don’t you see that gleam of silver? Reach as far as you can.”
He grunted, torso through the hatch, stretching and groping.
So with a good hearty heave I tipped him the rest of the way. He was heavy as a flour sack, but once I got him going that was an advantage. He fell, there was a clunk and a splash, and before he could get off a good howl about greasy bilgewater, I had the hatch shut and bolted. Gracious, the language coming from below! I rolled some water casks over the hatch to muffle it.
Then I took the purse from where it was really hidden between two biscuit barrels, tucked it in my trousers, and bounded up to the waist deck, sleeves rolled. “It’s noon by the ship’s bells!” I cried. “In the name of King George, where is he?”
A chorus of shouts for Big Ned went up, but no answer came.
“Is he hiding? Can’t blame him for not wanting to face me.” I boxed the air for show.
Little Tom was glowering. “By Lucifer,
“You will not. I’m not matching every man on this ship.”
