James McGee - Rapscallion

Morgan's eyes flashed. "Think of the glory. Instead of returning home with your tails between your legs as prisoners captured on the field, you'll be going back as free men, laden with treasure. By God, gentlemen, you'll be given a heroes' welcome! When your Emperor sees what you've done for him, there's nothing you will want for!"

"And you're doing this because your boats have been confiscated?" Lasseur said, staring hard at Morgan.

"I'm doing it for two reasons, Captain. The first is payback for what they've stolen from me and from the men of Deal. As for the second; the way I see it, twelve million francs will buy me a lot of favours with your Emperor. He'll keep his ports open and I can carry on trading; hopefully build more galleys. The last thing I need is a breakdown in supply. I don't want to give the edge to my competitors."

"I didn't think you had any competitors," Hawkwood said.

Morgan gave Hawkwood a sharp look. "There's always someone who thinks they should be top dog. Right now, that's me. I intend to keep it that way. Look upon this as a special delivery. A gesture of good faith on my part."

"You mentioned an escort," Hawkwood said.

"Nothing we can't handle," Morgan said confidently.

"Perhaps you should let us be the judge of that," Lasseur said drily.

Morgan looked towards Pepper.

Pepper came out of his state of repose. "A small detachment of marines."

"Is that all?" Lasseur said. "You had me worried for a moment. I thought it was going to be difficult."

"How small?" Hawkwood asked.

"Shouldn't be more than thirty men. They won't be a problem, though."

"Why not?"

"Because they won't be watching the gold all the time."

"How so?"

It was Morgan who replied: "Because Admiralty House doesn't have the facilities to accommodate troops. It's too small and, in any case, it's a residence. While the gold is in the strong room, the guards will be quartered in the castle."

"I thought Deal had a barracks," Lasseur said.

"There are troops stationed in the town as well?" Le Jeunc said quickly.

"A token force. There used to be two companies of volunteers, but they were disbanded. Plans to raise a militia never came to anything because the townsfolk raised a stink. The barracks are mostly used as a way station for transients. In any event, they're almost closer to Walmer than they are to Deal.

There's a company of Bombardiers at the castle to man the guns. Other than — "

"Guns?" Hawkwood interjected. "You mean cannon?"

"Nine 36-pounders, but they're all facing seawards. They're not expecting an attack from the land."

"So no more troops?"

"Other than the ones in the castle, the nearest are a couple of miles to the north. There's a shore battery on the Sandwich Road, but they won't be a threat. They'll be kept occupied."

"What about those castle troops?" Le Jeune asked.

"They and the marines will be occupied. I've a diversion planned to keep them bottled up."

"How do you expect to get away?" Hawkwood asked.

"There'll be a ship lying off the beach, ready to transport us across the Channel."

"Right in front of those Bombardiers with their 36-pounders," Hawkwood pointed out.

Morgan shook his head. "They'll be too busy watching their backs, and even if they aren't, they won't see us."

"Why not?"

"We'll be carrying out the raid at night. The darkness will give us the cover we need. It will be easier to spread confusion, and we'll be able to take advantage of the tide."

"What about the weight?" Lasseur asked.

"Four tons, give or take. A couple of stout wagons, specially strengthened, will be sufficient."

"Still a devil to move, though." Lasseur pursed his lips as he considered the implications.

"We won't be moving it far. It's less than four hundred yards from the front door of the residency to the shore. It's a straight run with no obstacles. Even if we only manage to shift half the damned stuff, we'll still be in profit."

"How do you plan to get into the strong room?" Hawkwood asked.

"That won't be a problem."

Morgan did not expand on his statement. Evidently, he wasn't inclined to give away too much information at this stage.

He's baited the hook well, Hawkwood thought. He looked around at the flushed faces. Flattery had helped.

Rousseau took off his spectacles. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And our commission; what did you have in mind for that?" He held Morgan's gaze. "Because you won't be giving the Emperor the gold, will you? Even though you haven't actually paid for it, you'll be selling it to him, the same as with the other deliveries you've made."

All heads turned towards the head of the table.

Morgan smiled. "I wondered how long it would take you."

Backs straightened as the significance of Morgan's response permeated the minds of the men gathered around the table.

Rousseau breathed on his lenses, polished them with his sleeve and slipped the spectacles back over his nose.

"What's the usual profit on a guinea run?" Masson asked, trying to appear nonchalant but failing comprehensively.

Morgan glanced towards Pepper, but his lieutenant's countenance remained as inscrutable as ever. Morgan turned back: "Ten per cent."

"In that case," Rousseau said, "let's not be greedy. Why don't we make it fifteen per cent of the final profit?"

"It's going to be all profit," Masson said. "Remember?"

"Sounds fair," Le Jeune said, fixing Morgan with a speculative expression.

Hawkwood tried to calculate the amounts in his head. Fifteen per cent of twelve million francs — nearer fourteen, if Morgan realized his usual advantageous exchange rate — was a fortune, whether in francs or sterling.

Morgan stared at Pepper. Again Pepper said nothing, but this time a look passed between them.

Morgan nodded slowly. "Very well; fifteen it is."

A sequence of widening grins ran around the table.

"So, gentlemen, that's settled. Now, are you with me?"

Hawkwood looked round the room. There wasn't a man present who didn't look like the cat about to swallow the cream, except Pepper, of course. Did anything disturb that grey-bearded countenance?

Le Jeune was the first to voice his response. He nodded and laughed. "I'm up for it, by God!"

"Me, too!" Bonnefoux said eagerly. "If it means I can get my own back on those bastards!"

Morgan's eyes swept the room. "What about the rest of you?"

"Damned right, we're with you!" Masson clapped Souville on the shoulder. "Wouldn't miss it, would we, lads?"

Hawkwood wondered why Morgan bothered to ask the question, for the light of greed in their faces should have been enough to persuade him he already had them in the palm of his hand. Any lingering resentment caused by the delay in returning home had been eclipsed the moment the gold coins had hit the table top. Hawkwood caught Lasseur's eye. The privateer lifted an eyebrow in silent enquiry.

"Captain Lasseur," Morgan said amiably. "We've not heard from you."

Lasseur broke eye contact with Hawkwood and turned. "You put your case very well, my friend. I'm almost persuaded." The privateer smiled. It was the first time he'd shown any spark of humour since leaving the widow's. "But for a twenty per cent share I could be convinced beyond all doubt."

Pepper's head swivelled.

The chatter ceased.

Morgan stared at Lasseur. His expression was impenetrable.

The world revolved slowly.

Then Morgan nodded. "Agreed." He turned to Hawkwood. "Looks like you're the only one left, Captain Hooper. Are you in or out?"

This is bloody madness, Hawkwood thought. This went way beyond anything foreseen by Ludd or James Read. He looked at Lasseur. The privateer winked back at him.

Christ, Hawkwood thought.