James McGee - Rapscallion

"I thought ships couldn't sail into the wind," Hawkwood said.

"Scorpion can," Lasseur said confidently.

"How?"

"She has a special type of sailing rig. I designed it myself. It's based on the rigs of the xebecs, the ships used by Barbary pirates. They robbed European vessels and escaped by sailing into the wind, leaving escorts unable to chase them. I studied the design when I was in the Mediterranean. Scorpion's rig has been adapted so that she can use the same tactic. You saw how her main mast is square rigged? Those sails provide the forward motion, thrusting her through the waves. The xebec sails were triangular and set between bowsprit and foremast. I use the same principle, but instead of one large sail I use two, between my fore and main masts. With the jibs, they create a lifting motion; soon as they're raised, you'll see that they are cut flatter than normal. That allows her to go to windward and to glide over the waves with ease."

Hawkwood tried to look as if he knew what Lasseur was talking about. He was pleased to see that Jago didn't appear any the wiser.

"What have you told your crew?"

"That we seek the enemy. It's what we do."

"Won't they wonder what Nathaniel and I are doing here?"

"We've been together a long time. They will not question my actions."

There was a discreet cough. Lasseur's lieutenant stood in the doorway.

Lasseur acknowledged his lieutenant's presence and laid the compasses on the chart. "Forgive me, gentlemen," he said crisply. "I need to be on deck. Let me show you to my quarters."

Lasseur led them through the ship towards the stern. The schooner was small, Hawkwood saw; a minnow compared to the Rapacious. Curiously, even though he had to duck his head beneath the beams, there seemed to be a lot more headroom; he realized it was probably due to the ship having only the one lower living deck. Several crew members, who'd already welcomed Lasseur topside, were seated at the tables in the mess area and their faces lit up as Lasseur entered. He greeted each one by name as he passed through. It was impossible not to notice the renewed spring in his step now that he was back on board his ship.

The stern cabin was tiny, with two narrow berths and a table and a seat beneath the window.

"Make yourselves comfortable," Lasseur told them. "I'll have Raoul bring you something from the galley. It will be cold on deck later, so we'll find you some extra gear."

When Lasseur had left, Jago lowered himself on to the window seat and ran a hand over his cropped hair. He looked at Hawkwood and sighed.

"Remind me again why we're here."

Hawkwood sank on to a berth.

"Because I'm damned if I'll let Morgan get away with it. This is the only chance I've got of catching him."

"Of getting killed, more like! Morgan's gone. Couldn't you just admit that you've lost him? You can't win them all."

"I haven't lost him yet," Hawkwood said.

"No, right, that's how come we're sailing to France with a

Frog privateer. You couldn't just cut your losses, hand Monsewer over to the authorities and go back to London with Micah and me?"

"I can't hand him in, Nathaniel. Not when it means sending him to the hulks. I wouldn't do that to any man. You wouldn't, either, if you'd seen what those places are like. He saved my life. I owe him. I reckon he's gotten this far, he deserves a chance. In any case, I don't see as I had much choice."

"You've always had a choice!"

"It's not that easy."

"From where I'm bloody sitting, it is," Jago snapped back. "Have you asked yourself why Lasseur's doing this? Way I see it, it's in his interest to give Morgan a clear run. The Emperor will get his gold, Lasseur gets to go home. All we are is bloody ballast! You do know you ain't going to get the gold back?"

"I don't give a damn about the gold! It's Morgan I want. The bastard's responsible for the deaths of two naval officers, a Revenue man and at least two British soldiers. Not to mention the inconvenience he's caused me."

"And the Frog prisoners?"

"I'll leave them to Lasseur's conscience."

"He's got one, has he? What's to stop him delivering us up to the Frog authorities? Could be all you've done is exchange an English hulk for a French one. That's if they don't shoot us for being bloody spies."

"He won't do that."

"Who says?"

"He did. He gave me his word."

"And you believe him?"

"Yes. Besides, it's not in his interest to give me up." Hawkwood smiled. "I still owe him four thousand francs."

"Well, that's all right then. There was me thinking he was being swayed by the thought of four tons of gold bullion swelling Boney's coffers. How daft is that? I still don't see why he's so damned fired up about catching Morgan before he reaches France. Why doesn't he wait till after Morgan gets there and then denounce the bugger?"

"Because as soon as he lands, Morgan will disappear into the English enclave. They're Morgan's people. He has friends there. There's also a good chance the French will protect him. He delivers Bonaparte twelve million francs and they'll probably think he's someone worth protecting. Maybe they'll think if he can do it once, he can do it again."

"He killed eight Frenchmen. You telling me they won't hold that against him?"

"Morgan gets to Gravelines first, his story is going to be that they died in the execution of their patriotic duty — that's assuming he even bothers to mention them. By the time Lasseur gives his version, Morgan will have become the Emperor's blue-eyed boy. Twelve million francs buys a lot of favours. And there's no proof he killed them. Who's to say they weren't shot by redcoats? It'll be Lasseur's word against his and Lasseur wasn't there."

"So Lasseur's planning to catch up with Morgan on the high seas?"

"That's the way of it."

"And mete out some justice of his own?"

Hawkwood said nothing.

"And we're going to help him?" Jago pressed.

"You didn't have to come along," Hawkwood said.

"'Course I had to come along! Christ, you get these Tomfool ideas into your head, someone has to watch your back!"

"And that's you?"

"Yes, it's me! It's always bloody me! And, might I say, you've come up with some crack-brained ideas in your time, but this one takes some beating. You're willin' to go to all this trouble just so's you can serve notice on a bloody smuggler?"

"The damned gold's lost anyway. This way at least I've a chance of making sure Morgan doesn't profit from it."

"Any likelihood we can steal it back from Lasseur's clutches?"

"Just the two of us?" Hawkwood said drily. "I doubt it."

"Worth considerin'. So Lasseur and his Emperor get twelve million francs while you get one murdering bastard free trader?" "Some might call that a bargain."

"Only if they've lost their bloody wits. And have you given any thought to how we'll get home?"

"Lasseur will see we get back."

"You're settin' an awful lot of store in the man."

"I told you, he's worried he'll lose the money I owe him."

Jago shook his head in exasperation. "You can joke, but you realize if anything happens to Lasseur and we end up in bloody Verdun or one of those other Frog prisons, we're well and truly buggered."

"That why you sent Micah home?"

"I thought it best that someone back there knows where we are."

"You're saying he'll come looking if he doesn't hear from us?"

"If he doesn't hear from me, he will." Jago fell silent, then said, "Jesus, this is a rum business. You must really want the bastard."

"I do," Hawkwood said. "But it's not business. With Morgan, it's personal."

There was a rap on the door, then a seaman entered bearing a tray loaded with bread and cold beef, two mugs, a pot of coffee and a bottle of brandy.

"Avec les compliments de Capitaine Lasseur, messieurs."