Rapscallion

the pendulous jowls, however, were not those of a Roman. The inscription that framed the head - GEORGIVS III DEI GRATIA - and the spade- shaped shield on the reverse side confirmed the bust's identity. Hawkwood knew immediately what he was looking at. He said nothing, presuming the others around the table did too.

'Gentlemen,' Morgan said, 'let me tell you about the guinea boats.'

Lasseur's head came up sharply.

Morgan caught his eye. 'You're familiar with the term, Captain Lasseur?'

Lasseur nodded. 'I saw one once.' He reached over, picked up one of the coins and studied it carefully. 'It was off Grand Fort-Philippe. A galley; low in the water, moving very fast.'

'Why don't you tell your compatriots and Captain Hooper what they're used for,' Morgan said.

Lasseur turned the coin over in his hand. 'They're given the name because smugglers use them to carry English guineas across the Sleeve to France.'

Masson frowned. 'What do we French need with English guineas?'

'It's not the guineas,' Lasseur said, replacing the coin on the table. 'It's the gold.'

Masson's frown remained in place.

'The Emperor needs it to pay our troops,' Lasseur said.

The room went quiet.

After a moment Denard said, 'Our troops?'

Lasseur nodded.

Hawkwood said, 'You're telling us the British smuggle English guineas across the Channel to pay Bonaparte's army?'

'I told you, it's the gold that matters. It just happens to come in the form of guineas.'

'And they pay them in guineas?' 'Occasionally, I believe. Otherwise, they're melted down and re-minted.'

Beaudouin turned to Leberte. 'Were you ever paid in guineas, Pierre?'

'I can't even remember the last time I got paid,' Leberte said. He stared at the coins with a wistful expression.

'What about you, Captain Hooper?'

Hawkwood shook his head.

Denard stared at Morgan. His expression mirrored the questions that were obviously racing through his mind.

Morgan nodded. 'It's perfectly true, gentlemen, I assure you, and it's been going on for years. It's all part of the Trade.'

'It doesn't make sense,' Souville said, looking equally puzzled. 'Why would the English do such a thing? Surely they realize they could be adding to the length of the war, which means more of their men will die.' He stared at Morgan. 'Do you really hate your country that much?'

Morgan gave a dismissive shrug. 'I don't judge it in those terms, Lieutenant. It's not personal. It's purely a business arrangement.'

Souville shook his head in wonderment. 'Then it is a very strange business indeed.'

First rule of commerce, Hawkwood thought, and was it any stranger than helping enemy combatants get back home so that they could rejoin the fight?

Morgan rewarded Souville with what could have been a sympathetic smile. 'I can see how you would think that. It would be interesting to put the same point to your Emperor.'

'What do you mean?' Bonnefoux asked, his brow furrowing.

'Do you think it's only free traders who are running goods, my friend?'

Before Bonnefoux could reply, Morgan smiled thinly and said, 'Because if you did, you'd be wrong.'

'I don't understand,' Bonnefoux said warily.

Morgan leant forward and fixed Bonnefoux with a piercing gaze. 'What if I were to tell you that, while you've been locked away on that stinking hulk and while your comrades were lying

dead on the field or being maimed by broadsides, English and French merchants have been doing business with each other and making money with the collusion and blessing of both our governments?'

Bonnefoux stared blankly back at him, as did everyone else.

'And I don't mean people like me, Captain. I'm not talking about free traders. I mean legitimate men of business.'

'What are you saying?' It was Le Jeune who cut in.

Morgan straightened. His gaze took in all the seated men. 'Let me ask you this: aside from defeating her armies on the field, what's the best way to bring an enemy to its knees?'

'Attack her trading routes,' Lasseur's reply was instantaneous.

'Ha! Got it in one, Captain. And you should know, eh?' Morgan raised a hand and knotted his fist. 'It's like laying siege to a fortress while poisoning the well. Do that and you'll squeeze your enemy dry. More than that; you'll stop them from generating income. Bonaparte knows our strength lies with our Royal Navy. He also knows that we maintain it with profits from our overseas trade. That's why he issued his decree forbidding France's allies from trading with us. It was his plan to bring us to our knees. Trouble is, we did for most of his navy at Trafalgar. We also stopped him getting his hands on the Danish fleet in Copenhagen, which is why he's had to rely on privateers like Captain Lasseur here. Worked for a while, too; your privateers were damned effective. But then our government decided to exchange fire with fire by issuing orders-in-council that all neutral ships bound for France must divert to British ports. The result was that both sides ended up suffering, which wasn't good because we both still had men at sea and on the battlefield and equipping them is expensive. Soldiers need muskets and musket balls and the navy needs ships and cannon. What's to be done?'

Morgan smiled knowingly. 'Come on, gentlemen. Just because we're at war doesn't mean we can't be civilized. You didn't really think a thousand years of trade would end just because our generals are in a paddy, did you? Of course not; which is why our governments, in a gesture of mutual co-operation, agreed to issue special licences allowing some of our merchants to trade with some of your merchants, even though we're at war. It's been going on for the past three years. You send us grain and brandy and fine wines, and we send you wool, cotton and tin. While your friends have been fighting and dying, British and French merchants have been growing fat on the profits - and it's all been perfectly legal.'

The room had fallen silent. The food lay forgotten and untouched.

Morgan spread his hands. 'So, ask yourselves: who's the real villain here? At least I don't deny who I am or what I do. In fact, we free traders operate with Bonaparte's blessing as well. Why? Because he needs us, because he's after as many markets as possible for his goods, same as our merchants. That's why he's allowed our vessels free access to French ports. He knows free traders have the contacts and customers legitimate merchants can only dream of.'

'And gold's the key?' Hawkwood said.

Morgan turned and jabbed a finger. 'That's right, Captain Hooper. Gold is the key. It's not brandy or cotton that keeps the world turning, it's gold. The value of a country's gold reserves determines its wealth. You probably didn't know it, but back in '97 there was a heavy run on our banks. The government was so afraid the country was going to run out of gold it stopped all exports. Ordered the Bank of England to stop issuing it too. The Bank Restrictions Act, they called it; a fancy little title. Damned fools thought they could rely on paper money.' Morgan shook his head. 'But we all know what that's worth when there's a war on, don't we? Which is bad news when you've an army and a navy to fund.

'So, British merchants started settling their accounts in gold. But they couldn't export English gold, so they started buying in foreign. When that started to run out, they dipped into our reserves, and that sent the price up, which was when everything changed.'

Morgan's gaze grew more intense as he warmed to his subject. 'Y'see, it didn't take long for some bright bugger to realize that, if you buy gold in London with British bank notes and sell it for British bank notes on the Continent where gold fetches a better price, you're going to make money. And when we learned that Bonaparte needed gold to pay his armies, we couldn't believe our luck. With the help of our contacts in London, we started shipping him our English guineas. Who cares if they're going to the enemy, so long as we're making money?

'And it's been doubly good for us free traders because, as long as we keep him in guineas, Bonaparte'll keep his ports open for us so we can make him even more money by stocking up on his brandy and his silks and all