Bruce Alexander - Smuggler's Moon

She simply chuckled.

“Look at her now,” said Bunkins, nodding across the deck at Lady Grenville. ”Looks right rum in that dress, don’t she?”

“Mmmm, she should,” said Clarissa. ”Must’ve cost a pretty penny in Paris.”

“Well,” said he, ”first time I seen her she wasn’t wearin’ no dress. She was wearin’ kickseys, same as any man. She had a cutlass in her hand, wavin’ it about, tryin’ to get her crew to fight the Anglais -that’s us-but they was all for givin’ up, hands up in the air, an’ that. But all this time she’s yellin’ at them, cursing them in French, like. And then she sees the cove jump on board, an’ he’s a-wavin’ his cutlass about, an’ without anybody tellin’ her, she knew he’s the captain, so she runs at him with her cutlass and would’ve kilt him right there had she the chance. The cove knew right enough she was a woman and didn’t want to fight her, but by God he must, or she would’ve sliced him dead. So they go at it, the two of them-hack-hack, klink-klink-but he’s just blockin’ her thrusts. And the queer thing was, all those aboard-all the Frenchies and all of us-just stopped everything to watch. It was the damndest, funniest thing you ever saw.”

And there he stopped, as if he had brought the story to a proper end. This infuriated Clarissa, who had been hanging upon Bunkins’s each word.

“Well, what happened?” said she through clenched teeth.

”Oh,” said he, ”well, sure enough, with all that hacking away at him, she did finally give him a nick on the arm, and the cove didn’t like that much, so he went after her for the first time, did a little trick I’ve seen him do before, and sent her cutlass flying, just like that.” And so saying, he snapped his fingers.

“Just like that?” Clarissa echoed, sounding terribly disappointed. Then, cheering up a bit: ”But she did at least draw blood, did she not?”

Bunkins gave her an odd look. ”Whose side are you on, anyways?”

“Well … Mr. Bilbo’s, of course, but I’m always happy when a woman distinguishes herself. So she was the captain, was she?”

“Oh, no doubt about that. It was her at the helm when they pulled anchor and turned into the wind. She thought that up. It surprised us, it did.”

“Bravo, Marie-Hélène!” said Clarissa, and to me: ”I should like to meet her.”

That certainly was not difficult. The Indian Princess was not a large vessel, and she wandered about the deck as restlessly as we two did. We soon began nodding at her as we passed, and she at us. She had lively eyes and seemed not the least fearful of her future; nor, for one who would in all probability soon be a widow, did she seem greatly distressed. I believe that I was as eager to meet her as was Clarissa.

We had our opportunity in the morning when, having waited all night in the London roads that we might proceed up the Thames, the wind suddenly shifted and Mr. Bilbo left Marie-Hélène at the railing and went off to see the sails set and the anchor hauled. He left laughing, and she, staring after him, stood shaking her head, as if in surprise or bewilderment. We happened to be close by just as the ship began to move, with the smugglers’ cutter in tow; she waved us over to her. Then without preamble or introduction, she began to speak to us quite like we were all three the best of friends.

“Do you know well thees man, Bilbo?” she asked.

“Oh yes,” said Clarissa with great assurance, though in truth I had known Black Jack far better and far longer.

“Tell me then, is he famous in England?”

“Famous?” said I, echoing her word, not quite understanding.

“Do I say right? Fa-mous?”

“Oh yes, it’s just that I’d never thought of him quite so.”

“Tell me about him,” said she. ”I want to know all about him.”

“What is it you want to know?”

“Everything. He tell me little stories, funny stories, but not who he is, what he does. I think he must be famous in England. Such a man should be famous.”

“Famous in London, perhaps,” said I, ”but not in all of England.”

And so at her invitation we stood with Marie-Hélène at the taffrail and told her all that we knew of John Bilbo, and of his gambling den, which was established from the proceeds of his long career as a privateer, et cetera. She found it difficult to make the distinction between privateer and pirate (as many do), and I settled it to my satisfaction by explaining that a privateer was a sort of legal pirate. Hearing that, she laughed sweetly and said, ”Oh la! You English!”

For her part, she told us all about herself, as well, and the more she told, the better Clarissa and I understood her evident indifference to her husband’s fate. She was offered to him by her father simply to seal the agreement made between them: the Casales family as suppliers and Sir Simon as the English buyer.

“You were a mere pawn!” cried Clarissa in shocked sympathy.

“ Exactement! You play échecs ?”

”Chess? Why, yes I do.” Then, leaning forward and speaking confidentially: ”Did he treat you badly?”

“He did not treat me at all. He was so busy with his assassinations and the hunting of the poor fox that he has no time to be my husband. He is a stranger to me, a stranger who is my father’s partner. The only pleasure I have from this is that I am the capitaine of the little ship that goes back and forth to Deal. I learn all about this from my brothers and my uncle.”

On and on they talked. I was as much intrigued and entertained by Marie-Hélène as was Clarissa. Nevertheless, I could not but wonder what would become of her when we reached London. As I listened, my eyes wandered across the deck, and I saw Mr. Bilbo deep in serious conversation with Sir John. Could it be regarding the fate of Marie-Hélène? As I considered this, I saw that further preparations were being made for our return to London. The swivel gun on the foredeck was lifted from its mount and taken away to be stored. One by one, the six guns either side the gun deck were pulled back from their gun ports, secured, and hid beneath the canvas. The prisoners were brought up two at a time from the hold by Mr. Bailey and Mr. Patley. (Mr. Perkins had remained behind in Deal, so as to help Constable Trotter, now recovered, to police the streets of the town.)

As Clarissa prattled on to her, I happened to catch Marie-Hélène’s eyes as she looked down at the assembly of prisoners. For the first time since we had begun talking, she seemed unsure of herself, perhaps even afrighted. And it helped little when Mr. Bilbo appeared upon the poop deck and asked Marie-Hélène to accompany him. For the first time in her presence he did not smile. Once they had gone, Clarissa and I looked fearfully at each other, half-expecting her to appear on the main deck with the other prisoners. I saw Sir Simon look round him, no doubt for her, yet she was nowhere about. We saw no more of her then.

As we passed Tower Wharf, a Royal Navy longboat joined us, escorting us to a place opposite the Wapping dry-dock. There, we dropped anchor and it pulled alongside; a ladder was tossed down to it. The transfer of the prisoners to the shore began. And once begun, all was accomplished in a few short trips. That done, the rest of us descended the rope ladder-not easy for Molly and Clarissa-and were taken to the little wharf to the side of the dry-dock. By the time we arrived, the prisoners were gone, conveyed to Newgate in two large, barred wagons, specially made to transport large numbers of prisoners.

I watched the watermen make preparations to tow La Belle Voyageuse into dry-dock, but only for a moment or two, for Sir John called me over to him and instructed me to go out upon Wapping Dock and see if it were possible to find a hackney coach to carry the six of us back to Number 4 Bow Street. I had not far to look, for there, pulled over to the side of Wapping Dock, was a coach-and-four that had by then become quite familiar to me-that of William Murray, the Earl of Mansfield, the Lord Chief Justice. It seemed that he desired to see Sir John at the latter’s earliest possible convenience. He had sent his coach to ensure his compliance. There seemed in that an implicit threat.