Dewey Lambdin - THE GUN KETCH

"No, sir," Coltrop grunted, considering the consequences.

"If you would be so kind as to join me in my chart-space, sir, I will discover the matter to you," Lewrie smiled benignly, "and use your knowledge of these waters so we may hunt the others."

They repaired below to Alan's quarters; Lewrie, the truculent Coltrop, sailing master Fellows and James Gatacre. Lewrie sketched out the area where the action had occurred with a pair of dividers.

"… picked up our boats here, and searched the foreshore for them," he said, laying the dividers aside at last. "There was some sort of temporary camp, but no arms or stores. Palmetto leantos or shacks. Empty and abandoned. They had nothing to return for. But I believe they have some lair in the Caicos still."

"That don't follow, sir," Coltrop told him, screwing his face into a moue of disagreement "They're freebooters. Live wild like so many bloody gypsies! More than like, they came up from Tortuga, off Hispaniola. Maybe over from Spanish Florida or Cuba, with all their goods in their boats. You scared the bejesus out of 'em, so they crossed through one of these passes after dark to scuttle off to safer waters. They're probably drunk as lords in some hurricane hole this very instant. Just came over for the odd raid or two."

"One or two luggers I deem a raid, sir," Lewrie smiled. "But five boats, with about eighty or ninety men between them, would need a shore base where they might store their ill-gotten gains. One or two boatloads could take one ship of the summer trade, at best, but five seems enough to raid all summer, and they had to have a place to cook, to sleep, to keep lookout for inward-bound ships."

"Well, one would suppose, sir," Coltrop sighed as though he were bored. "But, given me hurt you allege you dealt 'em, I'd put my guineas on their being long gone from the Caicos by now."

"A fatal assumption for the next ship taken, if such assumption is wrong," Lewrie snorted. "They've two swift luggers still, and could take at least one more vessel, so they have some profit torepay their pains. And I doubt if determined and ruthless men know when to quit. For revenge, if nothing else."

"Conversely, Lieutenant Coltrop," John Fellows said, raising his gingery eyebrows, as was his wont when he got excited, "what if there were ships already taken? They must have stowed that plunder somewhere in the Caicos, and they'd not sail away without it An even more compelling argument for them remaining. I wonder if you are aware of other ships that may be missing, sir?"

"Lord!" Coltrop gaped in mock wonder. "How would I know? With absolutely no method of determining how many ships set sail for the Turks to begin with, the when or the wherefrom?"

"You've heard no talk among the arriving masters? No rumours of 'what happened to Old So-And-So'?" Lewrie pressed.

"It is not within my duties to question arriving masters, or to. deal with them except as to whether they abide by the law, sir."

"Yet in pursuing your duties of enforcing the Navigation Acts, in boarding and documenting arriving ships' manifests," Lewrie cooed, trying hard to rein in his growing anger, "in determining whether a vessel is allowed to enter British ports you have absolutely no converse with their captains and mates, sir? Is that what you are telling us, sir?"

"I have heard no gossip, no complaints, no speculations about missing vessels, sir," Coltrop replied stiffly, haughtily.

"Very well, then, Mister Coltrop," Lewrie said after a deep breath and a long sigh of frustration. "Let's proceed along another tack. Mister Fellows my sailing master, and Mister Gatacre, who now directs my ship's activities as her supercargo from the Admiralty," Lewrie said, inflating Gatacre's status without having to tell a baldfaced lie, or be specific, "deem that our pirates need a place where there is a tall headland. They need a reliable well or stream for water. Shelter from seaward to hide their boats, and what prey they take so they may loot 'em at their leisure. Shoal-waters wide enough to prevent pursuit by a warship or gunfire closer than random shot And easy access to the Caicos Banks so they may flee if their lair is found. Not too close to Fort George Cay up north, nor close to Turks Passage, where you patrol. That means they must be based either to the west of the Bank, or somewhere along the northern side of North, Middle, or East Caicos Island. Now, just where, assuming our suppositions about their needs are correct, in your experience in these waters, would you believe the most likely hideout to be?"

Coltrop leaned over the chart, hat under one arm and elbows tucked in close to his sides as if he wished to avoid touching it, or getting in any way involved. He blew out a breath, puffing his cheeks in perplexity.

"Lord, sir," he said at last with a hopeless smile. " 'Fraid I haven't a clue! Sorry. Know the Turks Passage and all, d'you see, but…"

"Good Christ!" Gatacre exploded. "You're about as useless as teats on a man! How long you been in these waters, puppy?"

"Year and a bit, sir, I…" Coltrop shuddered, too scared of Gatacre's uncertain amount of seniority to continue his smug bluster. Gatacre wore navy blue, but it was a civilian suit, more apt on some merchant master, but for a military cocked hat big as a watermelon. The buttons were plain pewter, though, so what was he if not some civilian official from the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, a secretary who'd report back about Lieutenant Coltrop and tell them… Lord!

"And you've leashed yourself to the Turks Passage?" Gatacre went on indignantly. "Never explored the Caicos? Or are they too far from your bottle'r your table? The brothels that good in the Salt Isles, are they, sir?"

"Sir, I…!"

"Ever been down to the Ambergris Cays? As far north as Drum Point on East Caicos? Took a peek into Windward-Going-Through, have you?" Gatacre sneered. "God, I've never heard of a Sea Officer with an active commission so unaspiring, nor so unambitious!"

"I have been to Fort George Cay, sir, to deliver supplies as needed, sir," Coltrop quavered out "I have put into the Ambergris Cays when the whales run, sir. But this is the wrong season. There's no one there now! The whalers won't be back…"

"A fine place for pirates, then," Lewrie commented. "An empty whaling station. Deep water for their ships. Huts for shelter, try-pots and fuel for cooking in place. Water. A tall headland or two. That's where we'll search first. Alacrity to Big Ambergris, and your cutter to Little Ambergris, where the depth is too shoal. What does your cutter draw, Mister Coltrop?"

"IJh… seven feet, sir. But, sir, if there are pirates, then surely my place is in Turks Passage to defend. To accompany you, I must leave shipping open to God knows what."

"By whom, Mister Coltrop?" Lewrie fumed. "Tripolitan galleys? Levant corsairs? There's one band of pirates we know of, and if we put pressure on them with our search, we halt their activities. Did you not tell me your patrols are irregularly timed, so you may, how did you put it, 'sow confusion and doubt'? Well then, let's go sow some doubt and confusion! And capture ourselves some pirates."

"Sir, I…" Coltrop began to protest, then swallowed his outburst. "Of course, sir. I am certain the Aemilia will be of inestimable assistance to you, sir." Coltrop turned suddenly sweet, and got his pride of old back a bit too quickly for Lewrie's taste. "Do you know she is named for our commodore's daughter, sir? In her honour?"

So that's who his powerful "sea daddy" is, Lewrie thought as he studied Coltrop's regained smugness with distaste!

"Commodore Garvey will be most pleased that she will figure in your… uhm, adventure, Captain Lewrie," Coltrop grinned.