Rapscallion

make use of it . . . that is, if you do not think it impertinent of me.' She reached into the pocket of her dress and took out a small item wrapped in a square of towel. She passed it to Lasseur and stepped back. Lasseur unfolded the towel and a smile lit up his face. He held up the razor and ran a palm over his dark stubble. 'Thank you, madame. We shall put it to excellent use.' He showed it to Hawkwood and, unseen by the woman, lifted one eyebrow in a laconic slant.

'It belonged to my late husband. I had quite forgotten I had it. You have the soap still?'

'Forgive me,' Lasseur said. 'I meant to return it to you.'

'That will not be necessary. Please keep it.'

'Thank you.'

She nodded, hesitated, and then, as if coming to a decision, said, 'Seth Tyler . . . the man who was here earlier ...' She took a deep breath. 'Since my husband passed away, he has made known his . . . feelings . . . towards me. At no time, despite what he said, have I ever given him cause to think that I might be receptive to his advances ...'

A faint flush had crept across her neck.

She brushed an imaginary hair from her cheek. 'And so you should know, I am called Jess. My husband's name was Jack - Jack Flynn. I have been widowed for three years. I have worked this farm on my own since my husband died and, as may have become apparent, I am unused to company. There, it is said.'

Her hands formed themselves into fists.

'We are pleased to meet you, Jess Flynn,' Lasseur said.

Her jaw tightened. 'Thank you, Captain. I hope the supper is to your satisfaction. You'll find wine in the jug. It is French, I believe.' She unclenched her fists and spun abruptly. 'Come, Rab!'

With the dog by her side, she headed for the door.

'Madame Flynn?' Lasseur called.

She paused, and turned back to face him. 'Captain?'

'If this man, Seth, were to return; what then?'

Hawkwood knew what Lasseur was getting at. He knew the woman did too. Next time, there might not be anyone around to help. A nerve pulsed in her throat.

'He will not return.'

'He heard Captain Lasseur speak,' Hawkwood said. 'He'll guess what we are. He may tell someone.'

'He won't do that either.'

'How can you be so sure?'

'When he's sober, he'll remember that I have protection. He'll know what will happen to him next time.'

Hawkwood remembered her threat to use the gun.

'You mean you'd arm yourself?'

'That, too.'

She turned away, leaving the words hanging in the air.

Lasseur stared after her. He recovered his wits as she reached the door.

'There is one other thing, madame. Before, I could not help noticing that parts of the farm are in need of repair. Captain Hooper and I would like to offer our services in exchange for your hospitality. If you have the tools to hand, we could make ourselves useful and it will help us pass the time. That is, if you find the idea . . . acceptable.'

She halted and looked back, surprise crossing her face. 'Thank you, Captain. That is a most generous offer. However, as I told you, I have a man who comes ...'

'Yes . . . well, as we have not seen him, we thought perhaps .. .' Lasseur's voice trailed off.

Her head lifted. 'You thought that he was an invention . . . to deter you from trespass?' There was an edge to her voice.

'We thought that a possibility, yes.'

'I see. Well, I assure you Thomas does exist. Though his visits can be . . .' the corners of her mouth lifted '... infrequent.'

'Ah ...' Lasseur said, nodding.

'However . . .' She held his gaze.

Lasseur waited.

'I expect him here tomorrow. He can show you where things are kept. He will, I think, welcome your help.' With a final nod, she turned away. 'He keeps telling me he's not getting any younger.'

The two men watched her go. Registering the expression on the privateer's face, Hawkwood hoped Lasseur wasn't about to make a fool of himself.

CHAPTER 14

'This is Thomas . . . Tom,' Jess Flynn said. 'As you can see, he is flesh and blood.'

Thomas Gadd was sixty if he was a day; a short, wiry man with powdery grey hair secured in a plait at the nape of his neck. His leathery brown complexion and labourer's hands spoke of a life spent outdoors. His limp was noticeable but not severe and despite the injury he appeared sprightly for his age. The scar, on the other hand, was a lot more livid than Hawkwood had envisaged from Jess's description. It looked as if it had been made by a blade. It was a miracle the man had not lost his eye.

Gadd had seaman written all over him. His grizzled countenance and braided queue were a dead giveaway, as was the tattoo of an anchor emblazoned on his right forearm.

'Tom, this is Captain Hooper, and Captain Lasseur.'

Gadd's face betrayed no surprise, as if being confronted by prisoners of war on the run was an everyday occurrence.

'These gentlemen would like to earn their keep, Tom,' Jess Flynn said.

Hawkwood and Lasseur felt themselves perused in turn.

'Been tellin' you I could do with some help,' Gadd said. He stared hard at Hawkwood. 'Jessie tells me you're a Yankee, Captain.'

'That's right.'

Gadd nodded. 'Won't hold that against you. Met a fair few in my time. Liked most of 'em.' In the same breath, Gadd said, 'You'll be a soldier, too, Captain Hooper, and your friend's a seafaring man, I'm thinking.'

Lasseur blinked in surprise.

Gadd sniffed. He regarded Hawkwood levelly. 'You walk straighten I saw you and I said to myself, now there's a man who's done some marching and carried a pack or two in his time.' He turned to Lasseur. 'You, though, Captain, you've the mark of a man who's used to the wind and spray on his face. You only get that look on the deck of a ship. Am I right?'

'You are right, my friend,' Lasseur replied, impressed and not a little bemused.

'Then you and me have got something in common. Reckon I've sailed on just about every kind of rig there is, and then some. Did time with John Company and the Dutch navy before I joined the King's service. Got the wounds at the Nile, in case you were wondering, but don't worry, I ain't a man who holds a grudge; leastways, not for that long.'

'I'm very glad,' Lasseur said.

'Speak your lingo, an' all.' He favoured Hawkwood with a grin. 'Enough to get by, anyways. Picked up a bit of Spanish, too; an' I can curse in Portuguese if I've a mind.'

'Tom was in the navy with my husband,' Jess Flynn said.

'Served together on Orion,' Gadd said. 'Jack was an able seaman. I was a quartergunner. Got paid off in '02.'

When the peace had been signed at Amiens, Hawkwood recalled. Though it had not lasted long. Hostilities had broken out again just over a year later. He wondered why Gadd and his friend Jack Flynn had not returned to sea. Gadd's wounds wouldn't have prevented him from joining a ship. Maybe he'd just had enough of the life. As for Flynn, perhaps it had been because he'd acquired a wife. He wondered when the Flynns had taken their vows.

'Crew mates look after each other,' Gadd said. 'That's how it works. They see their mates' families are all