Dewey Lambdin - THE GUN KETCH

"Me coachman Liam's got yer nigger wench, so we got all the time in the world, girl," Finney smirked. "An' I know fer a fack yer Betty Mustin's off t'dine with others, so that won't wash, either. Listen t'me good, now, an' heed me," he said, advancing on her slowly. "Yer fine man left ya t'founder, you an' the babe, Caroline. An' he ain't niver comin' back t'ya. His sort don't. They takes their pleasure, then when things get 'inconvenient' for 'em, why divil a care do they have fer the poor, sad objeck o' their lusts. Twenty pound, an' out o' the parish, girl, 'fore the magistrate sics 'is hounds on ya! I had me a sister. She went thet way. All starry-eyed over a feller. Thought he'd do right by her, that rich man's boy, but back she come, half dead from havin' his git, and rooned fer life, an' us too poor t'help her, d'ya see. Now, wot ya want with a life like that, when I kin offer ya…" he crooned, slowly advancing upon her.

"No closer!" Caroline swore, raising the first pistol. "Out of my house, now!"

Finney checked for one brief moment of open-mouthed surprise, then put his hands on his hips, flaring out the skirts of his coat and rocked on the balls of his feet.

"Oh, 'tis a crackin' great barker ya got there, miss," Finney chuckled. "Girl as delicate an' refined as yer sweet self has no business messin' with such brutes. That's a man's thing, girl. Put that down, now, an' let's be easy with each other."

Sewallis Alan Lewrie took that moment to wake up and begin to fret and wail.

"See there, Caroline?" Finney japed. "Even yer babe knows yer doin' wrong. Put that down, girl. Tend yer babe. I'll pour us some wine, an' we'll sit an' get acquainted."

"I said get out, Mister Finney!" Caroline shouted.

"Caroline, darlin' girl," Finney cooed, stepping closer with no sign of fear, arms out as though to cosset her out of a pet. "My…"

She pulled the trigger of the right-hand barrel, and the heavypistol leapt and bucked in her hand near enough to tear away from her!

"Jaysis!" Finney yelped, and backpedaled quickly six paces to the door. There was a fresh hole in the left breast of his coat, level with his heart, having passed through front and back as it had been held out away from his body!

"That was not a lucky shot, Mister Finney," Caroline glowered as she took aim with the gun, going for his groin with one eye shut "My brothers Burgess and Governour taught me to shoot before they went off with their Volunteer Regiment to fight for their King."

"You… you bitch!" he fumed. He started to rush forward, but she fired the left-hand barrel, and he stopped short, turning pale as a corpse's belly as the lead ball stung the flesh between his thighs, inches below his genitals! And before he could rise or even speak, Caroline brought up the second pistol in her left hand.

"No more teasing, sir! The next one's for your black heart!" she shouted over her baby's screams. "Get out of here, you Beau-Nasty bogtrotter! Run, you son of a whore! Buy yourself a fetching drab in town and pledge your love to her. Go roll in the muck like the Irish hog you are, sir. But I warn you, if you do not leave my house this instant, you'll be a dead bogtrotter, as God is my judge!"

Teeth almost chattering in her head, hand sweaty and slick on the curved butt of the pistol, and her vision tunneling, she was just about at the end of her tether. But the twin barrels never wavered. And then, thankfully, there came the sound of running feet thudding through her garden and onto the stone of the dog-run, drawn by her shots!

"What the devil?" Peyton Boudreau shouted, dashing inside with a smallsword in one hand, and a bell-mouthed coachman's shotgun in the other. His freedman black major-domo was behind him with a musket, and Daniel, Wyonnie's husband, backed them up with a cutlass. "You dog, sir! I'D have the bailiffs on you, damme'f I won't, sir!"

"For visiting a lady o' my acquaintance, Boudreau?" Finney attempted to bluster.

"For frightenin' a lady enough to have her shoot you," Peyton sneered in reply, something at which he was awfully good. "Trying to rape a married lady, were you, you scurrilous ill-bred scum? Damme, that'll make a merry tune for the town criers tomorrow! That'll be a fine topic for a broadside sheet to be handed about in every tavern! 'Calico Jack,' not only spurned, but nigh debollocked by a woman defending herself with a pistol, haw haw! Get out of here!"

"You wouldn't dare!" Finney shot back.

"I would," Caroline vowed. "I will, I promise you."

"Ephraim, take his sword. Pat him down for a knife or pistol," Boudreau instructed his major-domo, pressing the muzzle of the shotgun to Finney's breast. 'Tell your brute outside to let go Daniel's wife, or I'll have your heart's blood. Do it, or it's your life, sir, and worm no more to me than gnat's piss, at this moment, I most heartily assure you, haw! Come near my house again, come near Mistress Lewrie one more time, anywhere on New Providence, and you're a dead man. Do you even dare to ride past my property, I'll shoot you dead in the road as I would a rabid cur, sir! That all of it, Ephraim? Good. Now begone! Hear me?

"Begone, you son of a bitch, haw haw!"

With Finney disarmed, Caroline at last lowered the pistol and carefully rode the hammers forward one at a time, almost blind to the task through tears of relief, her hands now trembling like sparrows' wings. Now that the threat was ended, she was in horror of what she had almost done. She'd never aimed at anything but stationary gourds or bottles in her life, and here she'd almost taken a man's life!

She wanted to throw up, to scream, to fall to the floor and let her shuddering wails loose at last. But, now that Finney was being herded out the door and off the property, she went instead to her baby to pick him up and try to comfort him as he squalled in terror. She held him snug to her chest and shoulder, patting his back and stroking him, dandling him up and down as she paced the bedroom in a small circle, and commanding herself not to faint as long as he needed her, much as she wished for a ladylike spell of the vapors.

"There, there, little man," she wept, trying to smile for him. "There, there. It's all over. Bad man's gone, and won't be coming to hurt you. Momma's here, and she won't ever let anyone scare you ever again, Sewallis! Swear to God, baby, swear to God! And your daddy'll be home soon. Your daddy's coming, and he'll make everything better, you'll see!"

And pray God, make it soon, she thought as she paced.

"It's Walker's Cay, sir," Lewrie said at last.

"Again?" Commander Rodgers scoffed. "They wouldn't dare!"

"Oh, they'd dare, sir," Lewrie replied grimly. "And think it a knacky jest. It's perfect as a hideout, as we already know. And why would anyone ever suspect them to return to it, after we scoured it so well before, sir? Added to that, mere's no Navy patrol stationed in the Abacos except for a visit now and then by a cutter, and never to the north of Pelican Harbour, Marsh Harbour, or Carleton Settlement."

"Finally, sir, there's that Portuguese captain we spoke to," Lieutenant Ballard stuck in, a hopeful note in his voice. "On his passage south past Walker's Cay, he reported seeing masts, and lights ashore as it grew dark. There should be no one there, sir."

"He wasn't chased," Rodgers muttered. "He saw no pirates." "They didn't see him at twilight, sir, to the east'rd of the island," Lewrie suggested. "He got lucky."

"God, I wish you'd never talked me into this," Commander Rodgers sighed heavily, rubbing his face in puzzlement "God Almighty, I've half a mind to…"

"Could be Finney's Guineaman, sir," Lewrie added. "Still caching undutied goods there, still smuggling. We could burn him out, hurt him sore as we did the last time, and then be off for Nassau, with evidence enough this time to prosecute him for smuggling, if nothing else."