“Sir, I shall ask you once more to cease this impertinence and allow me a moment’s privacy to dry and clothe myself.”
In reply, Hunter walked down to the edge of the water, took her hand, and hauled her onto the rock, where she stood dripping and shivering, despite the warmth of the sun. She glared at him.
“You’ll catch your death of chill,” he said, grinning at her discomfiture.
“Then let us be equal,” she said, and abruptly pushed him, fully clothed, into the water.
He landed with a splash, and felt a shock as the icy water touched his body. It made him gasp for breath. He floundered about, while she stood on the rock, laughing at him.
“Madam,” he said, struggling. “Madam, I beseech you.”
She continued to laugh.
“Madam,” he said, “I cannot swim. I pray you to help-” And his head bobbed underwater a moment.
“A seafaring man who cannot swim?” And she laughed more.
“Madam…” was all he could say as he came to the surface then sank again. A moment later, he struggled up, splashing and kicking with no coordination, and she looked at him with concern. She reached out her hand, and he kicked and sputtered toward her.
He took her hand and pulled hard, flinging her high over his head. She screamed loudly, and landed flat on her back, with a stinging slap; she shrieked again as she went under. He laughed when she came to the surface. And helped her out onto the warm rock.
“You are nothing,” she sputtered, “but a bastard, a rogue, a cutthroat vicious rascally whoreson scoundrel.”
“At your service,” Hunter said, and kissed her.
She broke away. “And forward.”
“And forward,” he agreed, and kissed her again.
“I suppose you intend to rape me like a common street woman.”
“I doubt,” Hunter said, stripping off his wet clothing, “that it will be necessary.”
And it was not.
“In daylight?” she said, in a horrified voice, and those were her last intelligible words.
Chapter 11
IN THE MIDDLE of the day, Mr. Robert Hacklett confronted Sir James Almont with disturbing news. “The town is rife with rumor,” he said, “that Captain Hunter, the same man with whom we supped yesterday past, is now organizing a piratical expedition against a Spanish dominion, perhaps even Havana.”
“You place credence in these tales?” Almont asked calmly.
“Your Excellency,” Hacklett said, “it is a simple fact that Captain Hunter has caused to have provisions for a sea voyage put aboard his sloop Cassandra.”
“Probably,” Almont said. “What proof is that of crime?”
“Your Excellency,” Hacklett said, “with the greatest respect I must inform you that, by rumor, you have countenanced this excursion, and indeed may have made pecuniary gestures of support.”
“Do you mean I paid for the expedition?” Almont said, a little irritably.
“In words to that effect, Sir James.”
Sir James sighed. “Mr. Hacklett,” he said, “when you have resided here a little longer - let us say, perhaps, a week - you will come to know that it is always the rumor that I have countenanced an excursion, and have paid for it.”
“Then the rumors are groundless?”
“To this extent: I have given papers to Captain Hunter authorizing him to engage in logwood cutting at any convenient place. That is the extent of my interest in the matter.”
“And where shall he cut this logwood?”
“I’ve no notion,” Almont said. “Probably the Mosquito Coast of Honduras. That is the ordinary place.”
“Your Excellency,” Hacklett persisted, “may I respectfully remind you that in this era of peace between our nation and Spain, the cutting of logwood represents an irritant which might easily be avoided?”
“You may so remind me,” Almont said, “but I judge you to be incorrect. Many lands in these parts are claimed by Spain and yet they have no habitation - no town, no colonists, no citizenry on these lands. In the absence of such proofs of dominion, I find the cutting of logwood to be unobjectionable.”
“Your Excellency,” Hacklett said, “can you not agree that what begins as a logwood-cutting expedition, even granting the wisdom of what you say, may easily turn into a piratical venture?”
“Easily? Not easily, Mr. Hacklett.”
TO HIS MOST SACRED MAJESTY CHARLES, BY THE GRACE OF GOD, OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND, KING, DEFENDER OF THE FAITH, ETC.
THE HUMBLE PETITION OF THE DEPUTY-GOVERNOR OF HIS MAJESTY’S PLANTATIONS AND LANDS IN JAMAICA, IN THE WEST INDIES.
Humbly sheweth
That I, Your Majesty’s most loyal subject, having been charged by Your Majesty with the promulgation of the Court’s feelings and desires on the matter of piratical ventures in the West Indies; and having made known by delivery of epistle and oral pronouncement to Sir James Almont, Governor of the aforementioned land of Jamaica, these same feelings and desires, I must report that little attention is given to the cessation and suppression of piracy in these parts. On the contrary, I must sadly if honestly state that Sir James himself consorts with all manner of rogue and villain; that he encourages by word, deed and coin the continuance of dastardly and bloody raids on Spanish lands; that he permits use of Port Royal as a common meeting place for these cutthroats and knaves, and for the dispersal of their ill-gotten gains; that he shows no remorse for these activities and no evidence of their future cessation; that he is himself a man unsuited to high capacity by virtue of poor health and lax moral outlook; that he abides all manner of corruption and vice in the name of His Majesty. For all these reasons and proofs, I most humbly implore and petition Your Majesty to remove this man from his position, and to choose, in His Majesty’s great wisdom, a more suitable successor who shall not daily make a mockery of the Crown. I most humbly implore Your Majesty’s royal assent to this simple petition, and shall ever pray. In that continuance, I am, your most faithful, loyal and obedient servant,
Robert Hacklett
GOD SAVE THE KING
Hacklett reread the letter once, found it satisfactory, and rang for the servant. Anne Sharpe answered his call.
“Child,” he said, “I wish you to see that this letter is dispatched on the next boat to England.” And he gave her a coin.
“My lord,” she said, with a little curtsey.
“Treat it with care,” Hacklett said, frowning at her.
She slipped the coin into her blouse. “Does my lord wish anything else?”
“Eh?” he said, somewhat surprised. The saucy girl was licking her lips, smiling at him. “No,” he said tersely. “Be gone now.”
She left.
He sighed.
Chapter 12
BY TORCHLIGHT, HUNTER supervised the loading of his ship long into the night.
Wharfage fees in Port Royal were high; an ordinary merchant vessel could not afford to dock for more than a few hours to load or unload a cargo, but Hunter’s little sloop Cassandra spent fully twelve hours drawn up to the
