James McGee - Rapscallion

Pepper did not extend his hand but instead held Hawkwood's gaze for several seconds before giving a curt nod.

Morgan cocked his head. "You've had quite a journey. The Warden incident gave us some concern. We weren't expecting an affray."

"Neither were we," Hawkwood said. "How many men did you lose?"

"None, fortunately; though we had three wounded."

"We saw Isaac go down," Lasseur said.

Morgan nodded. "He was lucky. The ball took him in the shoulder, but there's no permanent damage."

"And the attackers?" Hawkwood said. "Were they after us or the contraband?"

Morgan threw Hawkwood a wry look. "It's all right, Captain. You can rest easy. It was the goods they were after, not you. Someone tipped them the nod. My people are making enquiries. When we find out who it was, they'll be dealt with." Morgan cocked his head on one side. "Gideon said it was a close-run thing. You only just made it into the boat."

Hawkwood shrugged. "Better to be damp than dead. What about the Revenue? Did they lose anyone? There was a lot of shooting. There looked to be some dragoons with them."

Morgan frowned. "Three Revenue men wounded and one dragoon dead. There was a horse killed, too, which was a bloody shame." He glanced over to the stall. "Good mounts are hard to come by."

So are good dragoons, Hawkwood thought. "You had reinforcements on the cliff."

"We always have reinforcements. It pays to be cautious, Jessie Flynn looked after you all right?"

Hawkwood nodded. "No complaints there. We could have done without the ambush on the way here, though. It nearly gave your man Higgs a heart attack."

A flicker of alarm moved across the bearded face and then understanding dawned. "Ah, you mean our phantom friars. I'll admit they're a mite crude, but they do the trick. Gave you a bit of a fright, did they?"

"Only the smell of them."

"That'll be our Del. Fragrant, ain't he?"

"Not the paint, then," Hawkwood said.

The corner of Morgan's mouth lifted. "No. The paint's made with putrefied horse piss. It's what makes it glow. But it doesn't hold the smell. That was all Del. It's why we like to keep him out in the fresh air, away from the house."

"You make paint from horse piss?" Lasseur said.

Another wry smile formed between the bearded lips. "Not personally. I employ people for that. Don't ask me how they do it. Some kind of fancy chymical process." Morgan fell silent and then said, "I understand the two of you caused quite a rumpus before you left."

Lasseur's head came up.

He knows about Seth Tyler was the thought that speared its way into Hawkwood's brain. Lasseur, he knew, would be thinking the same thing, though the privateer's face betrayed no outward emotion.

How had the man found out? Had Tyler told him?

And then he heard Morgan say, "Lucky we got you out before they transferred you," and realized that Morgan was referring to the events aboard Rapacious.

Hawkwood let out a slow, inaudible breath. As he did so he wondered how Morgan knew what had occurred on the hulk. The man obviously had a good intelligence system in place.

"You shouldn't believe all you hear," Lasseur said, his expression neutral.

Morgan's head lifted. "Oh, I don't, Captain, but you really mustn't underestimate yourself." He looked at Hawkwood. "I've a mind to offer you the same advice, Captain Hooper, but, if you'll forgive the impertinence, modesty's not a trait I'd associate with you Americans, judging by the ones I've come across."

"Met many of us, have you?" Hawkwood asked.

"There've been a few. And I have to say I've always found them refreshingly honest in the promotion of their own abilities. Not sure if it's self-confidence or sheer bloody arrogance, but it's a damned powerful quality either way. Won you your revolution and forged a damned country. Can't argue with that."

"We just don't like anyone else telling us what to do," Hawkwood said.

Morgan's dark eyes flashed. "Ha! Did you hear that, Cephus? We'll make a free trader out of him yet!"

Pepper said nothing. It was becoming clear that Morgan's lieutenant was a man of few words.

"How's our new arrival doing, Thaddeus?" Morgan addressed his groom, who was still watching over the mare and her foal, seemingly oblivious to the exchange going on behind his back.

"Very nicely, Mr Morgan. Afterbirth's on its way."

"Good. Keep your eye on her." Morgan turned back.

"Why are we here?" Hawkwood asked.

The question seemed to catch Morgan off guard. Pepper's eyes narrowed.

Morgan showed his teeth again. "By God, there's no beating about the bush with you, Captain Hooper, is there? No matter, I like a straight talker. You're here because I've a proposition for you."

Lasseur frowned. "What sort of proposition?"

"If all goes well, a damned profitable one."

"What about our passage to France?" Hawkwood asked.

"Don't worry, you'll both be delivered safe and sound as promised, only with a little extra something to remember us by."

"And what might that be?"

Morgan looked as if he was still mildly amused by Hawkwood's directness. "All in good time, Captain." He drew a watch from his waistcoat pocket and consulted the dial. "It's too late to go into details now. I still have work to do here and I'm sure you've both had a long day. Why don't I let you get some rest and we can talk again in the morning? I'll explain everything then; saves me having to do it twice. How does that sit with you?"

Do we have a choice in the matter? Hawkwood thought and wondered what Morgan had meant by the comment about doing it twice.

Before either of them had a chance to reply, Morgan gave a satisfied nod. "Then it's settled. Cephus'll show you to your cell. It's all right, Captain," Morgan added, chuckling at Lasseur's expression of alarm. "Just my little jest. You're quite safe. You'll find no gaolers here." Morgan turned away and then paused, as if he'd just remembered something. "I'd advise you, however, while you're at liberty to move around, it'd be best if you didn't stray too far. As you saw earlier, I do have men patrolling the outer walls and, having gone to all the trouble of getting you this far, it'd be a damned shame if you wandered off and one of my lads put a ball through your brain because he thought you were trespassing."

Morgan smiled at Lasseur's expression, though his eyes remained dark. "Stranger things have happened, Captain. Trust me."

They emerged from the stables to find the cart had gone. Hawkwood assumed it meant Asa Higgs and Del were away unloading the liquor tubs; either that or the gravedigger was already making his return to the coast while Del was back frolicking in the woods with his equally odorous pal, Billy.

A taciturn Pepper, lantern in hand, led the way across the yard and around a series of corners, emerging eventually into a cloistered quadrangle. The cloisters were clearly very old, a remnant of the original priory. Beneath the arches, the flagstones, worn smooth over the centuries, reflected the moonlight like the dark surface of a pond. It wasn't hard to imagine black-robed friars stalking the shaded walkway, wrapped in silent contemplation and wearing away the stones with each pious footstep.

Pepper did not dawdle but took them through a stone archway in the corner of the building. Entering a dark corridor, they arrived at a low wooden door. When Pepper pushed the door open and stood back, Morgan's little joke was explained.

The cell, for that had undoubtedly been the room's former role, was plainly furnished with just enough room for two narrow cots, a chair and a small table on which stood a candle-holder containing a stub of wax and tapers. Opposite the door, high in the stone wall, a tiny window, barely worthy of the name, admitted a thin shaft of moonlight. The only thing missing was a crucifix on the wall.