Rapscallion

the table.

'Morgan will be heading here -' he said, pointing with a pair of compasses. 'Gravelines.'

Hawkwood looked over the end of the compass points at the lines and squiggles. The name sat halfway between Dunkerque and Calais on the northern coast.

'Why there?'

'They call it la ville des Smoglers. The port was chosen by Bonaparte to accommodate free traders and their ships. They've built a special enclosure with stores, warehouses and lodgings. The whole place is protected by gun batteries. There's even an English quarter. They say that up to three hundred English free traders use it at any one time. The Emperor has granted merchants special licences to import and export goods using the smugglers. Any contraband landed along your southern coast will have started its journey here.'

Lasseur tapped the chart table with his knuckle. 'This is where the guinea boats deliver their cargoes. The trade is controlled by the Rothschild family. Head of operations is Nathan Rothschild, the banker; he's based in London. His brother, James, arranges for the transfer of the gold from Gravelines to Paris, where it is changed back into English bank notes. It's then that the smugglers and their backers make their profit. Morgan's heading for Gravelines, I'll stake my life on it.'

'And you still think we can catch him?' Hawkwood asked.

'If any ship can, it's this one.'

'Back in Deal, you said something about the breeze. What did you mean?'

'The wind's from the east.'

'I don't understand,' Hawkwood said.

'One of the reasons Morgan chose to carry out the raid when he did was to take advantage of the tide. Cutters have deep draughts and are not usually good for close inshore work, so he needed a high tide to enable him to load the gold on to his ship and then make his escape.

'To get to Gravelines, however, he would first have to steer south to avoid Les Sables - what you call the Goodwin Sands.' Lasseur tapped the chart. 'During that part of his journey, the tide would have been against him; with the wind driving him against the shore, his progress would have been very slow. Once he cleared the Downs and reached the southern end of the Sands, the tide would have been more in his favour, but so long as this wind holds, he'll find it hard to make headway. Even if the breeze remains gentle, he will have to tack constantly. Cutters are fast; that's why the free traders use them. Ordinarily, a cutter could probably outrun a schooner, but in a headwind he will not have got very far. Scorpion will be faster –she can defeat the wind. I believe we can catch him.'

'I thought ships couldn't sail into the wind,' Hawkwood said.

'Scorpion can,' Lasseur said confidently.

'How?'

'She has a special type of sailing rig. I designed it myself. It's based on the rigs of the xebecs, the ships used by Barbary pirates. They robbed European vessels and escaped by sailing into the wind, leaving escorts unable to chase them. I studied the design when I was in the Mediterranean. Scorpion's rig has been adapted so that she can use the same tactic. You saw how her main mast is square rigged? Those sails provide the forward motion, thrusting her through the waves. The xebec sails were triangular and set between bowsprit and foremast. I use the same principle, but instead of one large sail I use two, between my fore and main masts. With the jibs, they create a lifting motion; soon as they're raised, you'll see that they are cut flatter than normal. That allows her to go to windward and to glide over the waves with ease.'

Hawkwood tried to look as if he knew what Lasseur was talking about. He was pleased to see that Jago didn't appear any the wiser.

'What have you told your crew?'

'That we seek the enemy. It's what we do.'

'Won't they wonder what Nathaniel and I are doing here?'

'We've been together a long time. They will not question my actions.'

There was a discreet cough. Lasseur's lieutenant stood in the doorway.

Lasseur acknowledged his lieutenant's presence and laid the compasses on the chart. 'Forgive me, gentlemen,' he said crisply. 'I need to be on deck. Let me show you to my quarters.'

Lasseur led them through the ship towards the stern. The schooner was small, Hawkwood saw; a minnow compared to the Rapacious. Curiously, even though he had to duck his head beneath the beams, there seemed to be a lot more headroom; he realized it was probably due to the ship having only the one lower living deck. Several crew members, who'd already welcomed Lasseur topside, were seated at the tables in the mess area and their faces lit up as Lasseur entered. He greeted each one by name as he passed through. It was impossible not to notice the renewed spring in his step now that he was back on board his ship.

The stern cabin was tiny, with two narrow berths and a table and a seat beneath the window.

'Make yourselves comfortable,' Lasseur told them. 'I'll have Raoul bring you something from the galley. It will be cold on deck later, so we'll find you some extra gear.'

When Lasseur had left, Jago lowered himself on to the window seat and ran a hand over his cropped hair. He looked at Hawkwood and sighed.

'Remind me again why we're here.'

Hawkwood sank on to a berth.

'Because I'm damned if I'll let Morgan get away with it. This is the only chance I've got of catching him.'

'Of getting killed, more like! Morgan's gone. Couldn't you just admit that you've lost him? You can't win them all.'

'I haven't lost him yet,' Hawkwood said.

'No, right, that's how come we're sailing to France with a

Frog privateer. You couldn't just cut your losses, hand Monsewer over to the authorities and go back to London with Micah and me?'

'I can't hand him in, Nathaniel. Not when it means sending him to the hulks. I wouldn't do that to any man. You wouldn't, either, if you'd seen what those places are like. He saved my life. I owe him. I reckon he's gotten this far, he deserves a chance. In any case, I don't see as I had much choice.'

'You've always had a choice!'

'It's not that easy.'

'From where I'm bloody sitting, it is,' Jago snapped back. 'Have you asked yourself why Lasseur's doing this? Way I see it, it's in his interest to give Morgan a clear run. The Emperor will get his gold, Lasseur gets to go home. All we are is bloody ballast! You do know you ain't going to get the gold back?'

'I don't give a damn about the gold! It's Morgan I want. The bastard's responsible for the deaths of two naval officers, a Revenue man and at least two British soldiers. Not to mention the inconvenience he's caused me.'

'And the Frog prisoners?'

'I'll leave them to Lasseur's conscience.'

'He's got one, has he? What's to stop him delivering us up to the Frog authorities? Could be all you've done is exchange an English hulk for a French one. That's if they don't shoot us for being bloody spies.'

'He won't do that.'

'Who says?'

'He did. He gave me his word.'

'And you believe him?'

'Yes. Besides, it's not in his interest to give me up.' Hawkwood smiled. 'I still owe him four thousand francs.'

'Well, that's all right then. There was me thinking he was being swayed by the thought of four tons of gold bullion swelling Boney's coffers. How daft is that? I still don't see why he's so damned fired up about catching Morgan before he reaches France. Why doesn't he wait till after Morgan gets there and then denounce the bugger?'

'Because as soon as he lands, Morgan will disappear into the English enclave. They're Morgan's people. He