Blood Diamond: A Pirate Devlin Novel (34 page)

He glared at his men wiping blood from their faces and retrieving their muskets. He nodded to the pirate. ‘You and I will talk. Before you bleed any more of my men.’

Dandon stood with Peter Sam, under guard, and watched Albany stumble from the cabin dabbing at his head.

‘That does not look promising, my Peter Sam,’ Dandon breathed. He had given some warning to Albany that approaching the new master with demands might not go well. Trouin’s blow had also bruised Albany’s conceit and he fell in beside Dandon, checking his kerchief continuously for blood.

‘We are doomed,’ Albany attested. ‘Devlin will give us up. He has given the frog the gem for his own hide. Our mission is lost and we will all hang for pirates.’

Dandon kept his eyes on the cabin door, thinking about the conversation going on behind it. ‘So, Albany, you cracked your own head in frustration when Devlin bowed, no doubt?’

Albany said nothing but could feel the glare of Peter Sam, abreast of Dandon.

Inside, Devlin took a seat, the guards at his shoulders. Trouin had taken a pencil and paper from the baize-lined drawer within the table, speaking unaccented English as he wrote.

‘I will give you a few minutes, Captain. As you have already broken the parole that I granted by further attacking my men you will lose your right to be treated as a gentleman. You will be chained as a prisoner along with the rest of your men.’ His writing hand paused and spun the diamond. ‘Now tell me how you acquired this gem, if it is the Regent as you say.’

Devlin looked up at the men at his shoulders.

Trouin tapped the table to bring his attention back to only him. ‘Do not worry. They do not understand. Speak of what you have done. Is it truly the Regent?’

‘It is. The Pitt Diamond as it was.’ He hung one arm over the back of his chair lazily. ‘And there is some truth in Albany’s speech. We are on a mission for the crown, or at least its government.’

‘Jackals every one, I’m sure.’ Trouin went back to his page, ready to take down the confession of the pirate.

‘That’s a given, but,’ he pointed to the stone on the table, ‘that diamond is worth a king’s ransom; what say you on its worth to a pirate’s ransom, Commodore?’

Trouin leant back. ‘It is not yours to offer. It is mine. Along with everything you once thought you owned.’

‘So what is to drive me to tell you all I know?’

Trouin flung the pencil down and sprang to his feet at Devlin’s arrogance.

‘It is over, Captain! You know that, surely? I will take this ship into Brest, with my two ships as escort. Your men will be tried and hung.
You
will be tried for piracy and treason, for you once deigned to be a part of my fleet! A special privilege for you! You will be broken on the wheel like a noble for such a crime!’ He glowered down at the pirate.

‘Three years you have been at the game, and perhaps in your conceit you expect that it has not ended yet! But you know me. You know in your heart that this is how it ends!’

Devlin looked up into the oddly kind brown eyes. ‘You’d best give me back my ship. Take the diamond and I’ll be on my way. I’ll do you no harm.’

Trouin snorted and kicked away the legs of Devlin’s chair. The pirate crashed backwards onto the boards, the guards’ muskets’ mouths pointing at his grinning face. He brushed them aside and dragged himself up. He was still talking.

‘You’ve a day to get into Brest. A day with me and my men. That’s a long day in the company of pirates.’

Trouin glared back. ‘Then I kill you now, if it is so dangerous to keep you alive.’

‘Ah, but where’s the glory in bringing me in dead? You never beat me. We had no fight in your waters. You bested my old sailing master, that’s all.’ Demeaning Bill choked, but Devlin was flying now. He cocked a thumb to the guards. ‘Your own men will let out that we argued. That there was a diamond. A fight. The whole ship will know. And then maybe you killed me out of fear. Or maybe you killed me for the diamond. You know how ships whisper. What would you prefer your men to say of you?’ He picked himself up and took his seat under the watch of the muskets. ‘But I could swear that I’ll lay down. Go in under my honour. And my men will be good little boys.’

Trouin’s anger turned to mirth. He sat down with the pirate. He had studied the history of the man. The grin opposite was not a mask covering a brag. There was mettle in his deeds. He glanced again at the fat square diamond.

‘You have taken this diamond from the regent, I am to believe? If I judged you only on that you are a dead man. Your crimes pile up like firewood yet you speak to me of honour and bargaining when you have nothing to give. I must say, Captain, that you are one of the strangest men who thinks himself significant that I have ever met.’

Devlin leant forward. ‘For four years I fished out of St Malo. I learnt of Breton men. Learnt
from
Breton men. Heard of you like a god. Your brothers have always sought a republic from the nobles. You were a corsair, as much a pirate as me, and stole Dutch and English ships like picking up pebbles. Not to defend
them
but to protect your own lands. I would honour you to say that the first man I became was born out of those years.’

Trouin leant in also. The pirate’s knowledge of him was intriguing. There had been nothing of his Breton life in the official record.

Devlin went on. ‘The second man I became was from shining shoes and brushing coats. I was a servant. But I never forgot those Breton men and their dignity, and when I saw you today I recalled your tales.’

Trouin looked at his marines. Young. Young men born of France, not his realm. All his men weighed less in courage than this pirate who had at least lived through his years.

‘So? You know of me. And yes, I was pirate once it could be said. But now I have your ship and you. Your end has nothing to do with Trouin and his deeds these past thirty years. You are an enemy to my king.’

‘No king. A man who
would
be king. And I have not heard your name for years. You do not belong in their world. Does Paris still sing your praises?’ He noticed the pencil had written nothing.

‘You can tickle the pup they sent to watch me, and I’m sure he will tell you all you wish to know. But I learnt my honour from Bretons. You would have to remove my head to make it talk. And your
king
would want my confession for I have names to give.’

Trouin stood. ‘I am dry, Captain. Would you join me in a drink from your own store?’

‘After this.’ Devlin also stood, both of them leaning in over the table, the diamond palely lighting their faces as the afternoon sun came through the stern windows.

‘I can give you my oath as a man once of Breton that you can take us, curtailed, into Brest. I’ll make no bones against you and my men will follow. Or you can spend the next night and day wondering when I’ll make my move; when my men will rise against your boys. These aren’t men with wives and families like some of yours might be. They got nothing to lose and they’d rather die in the scuppers than at the end of a rope.’

‘And then what? You take back your ship? The same ship that I took with my two vessels. The ships that are at our quarters even now?’

‘You didn’t take it from me, Milord.’

Trouin closed his eyes, as if finding the arrogance blinding. He went to the roped shelf of bottles, searched for a cup or glass then gave up and pulled a cork on the deepest bottle. There was something in the pirate’s words. The ending seemed written. Take them to Brest, return the diamond, bow to the crowds. But a favoured man of theirs had been killed when he, Trouin, had promised otherwise on his honour. And after that just three of them had begun with some success to assail his crew. Devlin had a hundred pirates of that kidney. The shame of it if he rolled into Brest with nothing. No one would remember the past, only the present failure. His chance to return to glory would be lost, irretrievably.

So chain them all, mount a twenty-four hour guard, strip them of their clothes. He took a drink.

But the pirate had waltzed into Paris and taken the diamond from a palace. Trouin was sure that such an act would have been thought impossible yesterday. And a whole night and a day until Brest.

He turned back to the table. He needed the pirates to accept that they were beaten; for their captain that had returned to them to tell them so. He offered the bottle.

‘From the stones in your words, Captain, I would suspect that you have already had a long drink this morning. You may need a little more for the rest of your nonsense.’

He waited for Devlin to take a swig then took the bottle back and drank but just a sip, holding it longer to his lips as if drinking more. ‘Now,’ he pretended to belch. ‘What is it you propose? For my honour?’

Hugh Harris had found Dan Teague among the pirates chained along the gangway. He knelt beside him and learnt what he could about the days when they had been separated. But for a few bruises Dan was fine and Devlin’s two most dangerous cut-throats even chuckled and nudged each other at the prospect of their fate, all beneath the curious looks of the marines that watched over them.

Dandon, Peter Sam and Albany, like Hugh, were not restrained. After Devlin had been taken to the cabin, Dandon and Peter had carried Bill’s corpse below to the cockpit. Now they stood at the mainmast, alone and together, surrounded by guns and boarding pikes; all the same, still alone together.

Then came action, and they lifted their heads. The door to the cabin opened and officers were called. Moments later sailors and soldiers cleared amidships. Peter Sam, Dandon and Albany were barged to the gunwale as tarpaulins were removed, the spare spars taken away and a hauling and yelling started up for the boats between the masts to be cast astern.

‘What goes on, Peter?’ Dandon asked.

‘Clearing the decks,’ he growled. ‘Doubt it’s to share prizes. A hanging most likely.’

Albany baulked. ‘Indeed. All of us one by one I’ll be sure. Your captain saving himself, no doubt.’

Peter Sam cared nothing for the muskets around him. He reached across Dandon and punched Albany lightly in the side of his head. A tap, a father’s recrimination, but enough for Albany to falter sideways.

Albany rubbed his head. With Trouin’s pistol-whip and Peter’s thump his indignity was growing more painful. ‘I am only saying what we are all thinking!’

‘If you were,’ Dandon stepped in front of him, blocking Peter. ‘You’d throw yourself into the sea.’

Albany threw his kerchief to the deck. ‘You fools do not understand what has been lost this day!’ He sidled over to the French marines for protection. ‘I wash my hands of all of you.’

They ignored him as the cabin door opened again and Trouin and Devlin strode out into the heat, shielding their eyes from the glare after the darkness of the coach. Both men were in shirt sleeves, a grim aspect between them, rolling their shoulders, tightening sashes, as if about to wrestle with the whole ship.

Dandon craned his neck. ‘What is this, Peter Sam?’

Peter Sam shrugged and nervous muskets twitched as he smiled at his captain’s approach. Devlin looked to the big man, whose eye was bright and assured, and moved on to Albany.

‘Your sword, Albany.’ Devlin held out his arm, his hand grasping. It was not a request.

‘I think not,’ Albany turned his sword-hip away. ‘I will hear what has transpired first, traitor.’

Devlin’s hand closed to a fist and hammered into Albany’s paunch. The young noble gasped and fell to his knees.

‘Pity,’ Devlin said. ‘ You might have had an interest in me doing well.’

Peter Sam and Dandon had only heard for the asking of a sword. ‘You’re fighting?’ Peter demanded.

Devlin turned away from the retching Albany. ‘I’ve made a deal. This is no ordinary man. He’s a corsair of old. A legend. I can use that. I can challenge his greatness and he will take that bait.’

Dandon looked over the ship to the middle-aged man now whistling his sword through the air. ‘A duel? For what odds?’

Albany struggled up to one knee. ‘His hide, that’s what. Your captain was French once. Did you not know? He conspires with frogs!’

The three closed together, Albany forgotten. Devlin lowered his voice. ‘He’s a man who lived on glory. If he could go into Brest with another tale to add . . . my death might be worth something.’

‘Worth what?’ Peter Sam stood taller.

Devlin called for Hugh, sent him to find him a good hanger, a face-cutter, a bone-breaker. Questioning nothing, Hugh span away as if Devlin had only asked for a glass of water. He brushed past Trouin’s men with his sharp elbows. Devlin looked between his two closest brothers, as if memorising their faces for eternity.

‘This is my fault. I’ll settle it. I’ve given my word you’ll all hold if I lose. Don’t make me a liar.’

‘
Lose
?’ Peter Sam leant into Devlin’s face. ‘What cards have you cut? I’ll not hold to watch you die!’

Devlin patted the slab of an arm. ‘I’m good, Peter. Stand down.’

Albany burst into their group. ‘This is madness! What have you promised to that frog?’

Devlin gave Albany his court, his due. Little mattered now. ‘He has agreed that if I win, if he cries quarter, I’ll surrender myself. The ship to sail on without me, the men free. If I lose, he takes all. My death is part of the bargain, either here and now by his hand or in Brest. And all of us to abide by this. We’ll all lay down. I brought us into this. I should be the only one to die because of it.’