Rapscallion (63 page)

"What's
that?" A tiny light flared in the dark eyes.
Hope
springing eternal.

"You
have to swim."

Hawkwood
half turned and slammed his boot into Morgan's belly.

The
kick rocked Morgan on to his heels. The edge of the bulwark caught him across
the back of his legs and momentum did the rest, sending him backwards over the
cutter's side. He hit the water with the look of incredulity still glued to his
face. He was still trying to recover his breath as the sea closed over him,
taking his encumbered body down into its cold and lasting embrace.

It
was over so quickly, there was no trace of his passing.

Hawkwood
stepped back.

"That's
taken the weight off his mind," Jago observed.
"Though
you had me worried for a while.
Thought you'd gone
soft."

There
were more splashes from behind. Under the supervision of Lieutenant Delon and his
men, the remnants of Morgan's crew were tipping the bodies of their dead
comrades into the water.

"Time
to go, I think," Lasseur said, turning on his heel and sheathing his
sword. He called his lieutenant to him.

"When
they've disposed of their dead, lock them below.
Get our men back on
Scorpion
;
including casualties. Keep a small crew behind to clear the deck,
then
rig a sail. We'll escort you in. She's not much of a
prize by herself, but her
cargo's
worth more than a
king's ransom." Lasseur looked at Hawkwood and grinned.

And
Hawkwood said, "You'll have to be sharp about it."

He
wasn't looking at Lasseur. He was looking over the bow

At
the same moment Lasseur's man yelled, "Sail to the north east!"

"British
frigate," Hawkwood said. "But that's just my guess. Probably on
blockade patrol. She's damned close, too. I were
you, I'd shoot
your lookout."

Lasseur
sprang to the rail.

The
frigate was bearing down fast. She was closer to the French coast than
Scorpion.
Yards braced,
with a full spread of sail, she was running before the wind. Lasseur could even
see the water creaming at her bow.

"Save
yourself or the gold," Hawkwood said. "Don't think there's time for
you to do both. If they catch you, it'll be the black hole for sure. They'll
likely throw away the key this time, the mayhem you've caused.
Interesting dilemma."

"It's
a bugger, right enough," Jago said.

Lasseur
stared hard at the approaching man-of-war.

He
turned and looked at the wreckage that was strewn across the cutter's deck; at
the bodies that were still being lowered over the side, at his own ship and at
the exhaustion on the faces of his men, who would be unable to withstand
another pitched skirmish.

He
gnawed the inside of his cheek and came to a decision.

"Merde
," he said.

"Nice
night," Jago said.

Hawkwood
couldn't disagree. There were no clouds. The sky was dotted with a thousand
stars and moonlight speckled the blue-black water. The only sound to be heard
was the soft wash of the waves along the shore and the steady creak of oars. It
was a sound Hawkwood had become used to.

But
he'd had his fill of midnight meetings on moonlit beaches. He'd had enough, he
decided, to last him a lifetime; several lifetimes.

But
maybe this one was different.

The
two men walked down to the water's edge, their boots crunching into the
pebbles. They waited for the black-hulled rowboat to draw closer, stepping
aside at the last minute as the bow glided out of the darkness and on to the
beach.

Lasseur
stepped ashore.

He
smiled and held out his hand.
"Captain."
He
shook hands with Jago. "I'm happy to see that you both made a safe return.
You'll have forgiven me for my hasty departure, I hope."

"Couldn't
be helped," Hawkwood said. "Business called."

"Indeed.
I trust the army was suitably generous in its gratitude?"

"That'll
be the bloody day," Jago said.

"No
reward?"

"Just
the thanks of a grateful nation," Hawkwood said. "I'm inclined to
think you came out of it better than we did."

Lasseur
grinned.

"I
hope you gave Pepper a decent burial," Hawkwood said as they left the boat
and walked towards the top of the beach where a wall of grey rock rose from the
shingle and a line of tall cliffs stretched away into the darkness.

Lasseur
nodded.
"Wrapped in sailcloth with a six-pound ball at
his feet."

"More
than the bastard deserved," Jago muttered. "Mind you, it'll give
Morgan someone to talk to."

"I'm
assuming he wasn't wearing his waistcoat," Hawkwood said.

Lasseur
shook his head. "On the contrary, we let him keep it.
Without
the contents, naturally."

"Spend
them wisely," Hawkwood said. "That might be all you'll get for a
while. I hear deliveries may be curtailed."

Lasseur
had left them the rest of the gold. The British warship had been too close and
coming in too fast for
Scorpion's
crew to pilot the damaged
Sea Witch
to a safe harbour or transfer the bullion before being apprehended. Even
Lasseur's Barbary rig wouldn't have saved them, not given the frigate's heading
and speed and the proximity of her eighteen- pounders.

Leaving
the frigate to salvage the cutter and what remained of her decimated crew,
along with the two individuals who'd been left on her bloodstained deck,
Scorpion
had reset her
canvas and made for the nearest French port.

When
the frigate's captain dispatched his second lieutenant to investigate the
crippled cutter, he had little idea what his officer would discover in the
vessel's hold. He had been forced to admit it had been the biggest prize he'd
taken in his career.
Though
prize
wasn't
strictly the word for the army's own missing bullion.

They
recouped all of it save for the ingots that Morgan and Pepper had attempted to
carry ashore. The recovery of the bullion, Hawkwood learned, had not resurrected
the career of Lieutenant Burden, for whom the stores depot at Fort Amherst
beckoned unenticingly.

"Will
they hang them all?" Lasseur asked, referring to the cutter's crew.

"They're
up before Maidstone Assizes in two weeks' time. Morgan's not around. His lawyer
won't be able to save them. It'll be a meeting with Jack Ketch or else
transportation."

"So
Morgan's organization is starting to unravel. Cut off the head and the beast
withers?"

"I
wouldn't say that. More arrests are being made, including the admiral's cook -
she was the one passing Morgan information about the layout and people in the
house. But the Trade's like a spider: you break its web and it spins another
one just as fast. Someone will be along to take Morgan's place."

"The
king is dead, long live the king?"

"Something
like
that," Hawkwood said.

A
low whistle came from the darkness.

The
three men turned towards the sound. A small horse- drawn cart appeared. The
cart drew to a halt and Jethro Garvey dismounted. "Sorry we're late,"
he said. He walked to the back of the cart and took down a valise.

Lasseur
helped Jess Flynn down from the cart. Taking her hand, and without speaking, he
held it to his lips and then to his cheek.

While
Garvey stayed with the cart, Hawkwood took the valise and he and Jago
accompanied Lasseur and Jess Flynn down to the water.

At
the edge of the beach, she looked round. "Come on, you," she called
softly.

There
was a scrabble of paws and the dog jumped down from the back of the cart and
loped slowly down the shingle towards them, tail wagging.

"We'll
have to teach him French," Lasseur said.

"Just
speak loud and slow," Jago said.

Jess
Flynn smiled. "He's not deaf, Nathaniel. He's getting on
in years, that's
all."

"Like
me," Jago said.

Hawkwood
placed the valise in the boat.

Jess
Flynn let go of Lasseur's hand and kissed Hawkwood's cheek.

"Thank
you," she said.

Lasseur
helped her into the boat then lifted the dog in beside her. With Hawkwood and
Jago's help, he pushed the boat off the shingle and climbed aboard. Slowly the
boat pulled away. The last sight before darkness swallowed it was of Lasseur
raising his hand in a silent farewell.

"What
do you reckon?" Jago mused. "You think the real reason he gave up the
gold was so's he could come back for her?"

"Maybe,"
Hawkwood said.

"Daft
sod," Jago muttered.

They
turned and retraced their steps.

Garvey
was still waiting by the cart.

"Thanks,
Jethro," Jago said. "Mind how you go."

As
the cart trundled off, Hawkwood and Jago walked to where they had tethered the
horses.

"You
do realize the only person to get anything out of all this was a bloody
Frenchman," Jago said. "Bugger sailed away with a pile of gold
and
the girl."

"Not
strictly true," Hawkwood said. He paused and reached into his pocket.
"Here, catch -"

The
ingot he'd cut from Morgan's waistcoat landed neatly in Jago's hand.

Jago
raised an eyebrow.

"Expenses,"
Hawkwood said.

Jago
stared at the ingot in his hand. "What's it worth?"

"No
idea.
A lot."

Jago
handed it back. "The wages they pay you, you need all the help you can
get."

They
mounted up and turned their horses away from the beach.

And
the sound of a single bark echoed over the darkened water behind them.

Over
the course of the Napoleonic Wars, Britain incarcerated thousands of prisoners
of war in both mainland gaols and hulks; former men-of-war of British and
foreign origin that were considered too old and too unseaworthy for active
service. By 1814, the population of the prison ships had reached its peak of
72,000 souls. The majority of these vessels were moored at Portsmouth, Plymouth
and the Medway towns.

Of
all the prisoners that lived on the hulks, the most feared were the Romans and
the most despised were the Rafales. Duels were fought as described in the
novel, and there are records confirming that bodies were indeed cut up and
disposed of through the ships' heads.

The
majority of the deaths on the Medway hulks were due to consumption and fever.
The corpses of both civilian convicts and prisoners of war were buried along
the foreshore. When Chatham Dockyard was extended in 1855-56, the remains of
over 500 prisoners were discovered on St Mary's Island. These were disinterred
and re-buried under a stone memorial that may still be seen in the grounds of
the old naval barracks.

Accounts
vary, but in the period between 1811 and 1814, it's thought that between 300
and 450 French officers made successful escapes. Most of them would not have
made it home without the aid of the British smuggling fraternity, who charged
escapers up to 300 guineas for the journey.