Caribbee Part 79

He smiled patiently. "Anglais, think about it. How could such a thing be? I was the commander; my position had certain requirements. And to make sure the same question did not arise again, I created Articles for us to sail under, giving more to the s.h.i.+p's master. They specify in advance what portion goes to every man, from the maintop to the keel .

. . though the commander and officers naturally must receive a larger share. . . ."

"And what about now?" Winston interrupted. "Now that you Frenchmen have taken over Tortuga? I hear there's a new way to split any prizes the men bring in. Which includes you and Chevalier de Poncy."

"Oui, conditions have changed slightly. But the men all understand that."

"They understand these French culverin up here. _Mes compliments_. It must be very profitable for you and him."

"But we have much responsibility here." He gestured toward the settlement below them. "I have many men under my authority."

"So now that you've taken over this place and become commandant, it's not really like it used to be, when everybody worked for himself. Now there's a French administration. And that means extortion, though I suppose you call it taxes."

"_Naturellement_." He paused to watch as de Fontenay walked to the edge of the parapet and glanced up at the mountain behind the fort.

"But tonight we were to recall those old, happy days, Anglais, before the burden of all this governing descended on my unworthy shoulders.

Your _jolie_ mademoiselle seems to take such interest in what happened back then."

"I'd like to hear about what happened while Hugh was on that raid with you. You said he was to fire the first shot."

"_Oui_." Jacques laughed. "And he did indeed pull the first trigger. I was truly sad to part with him at what was to be our moment of glory.

But we had differences, I regret to say, that made it necessary . . ."

"What do you mean?" She was watching Hugh's uneasiness as he glanced around the fort, suspecting he'd probably just as soon this story wasn't told.

"We had carefully laid a trap to lure in a s.h.i.+p. Mademoiselle. Up in the Grand Caicos, using a fire on the sh.o.r.e."

"_Where_?"

"Some islands north of here. Where the Spaniards stop every year."

Jacques continued evenly, "And our plan seemed to be working brilliantly. What's more, the Anglais here was given the honor of the first bullet." He sipped from his tankard. "But when a prize blundered into it, the affair turned b.l.o.o.d.y. Some of my men were killed, and I seem to recall a woman on the s.h.i.+p. I regret to say the Anglais was responsible."

"Hugh, what . . . did . . . you . . . do?" She heard her tankard drop onto the boards.

"To his credit, I will admit he at least helped us bait the hook, Mademoiselle." Jacques smiled. "Did you not, Anglais?"

"That I did. Except it caught an English fish, instead of a Spaniard."

Good Christ, no! Katherine sucked in her breath. The coldhearted b.a.s.t.a.r.d. I am glad I brought a pistol. Except it'll not be for Jacques le Basque. "I think you two had best spare me the rest of your heroic little tale, before I . . ."

"But, Mademoiselle, the Anglais was our finest marksman. He could bring down a wild boar at three hundred paces." He toasted Winston with a long draught from his tankard. "Don't forget I had trained him well. We wanted him to fire the first shot. You should at least take pride in that, even if the rest does not redound entirely to his credit."

"Hugh, you'd better tell me the truth. Right now." She moved toward him, almost quivering with rage. She felt her hand close about the grip of her pistol as she stood facing Winston, his scarred face impa.s.sive.

"Did you fire on the s.h.i.+p?"

"Mademoiselle, what does it matter now? All that is past, correct?"

Jacques smiled as he strolled over. "Tonight the Anglais and I are once more Freres de la Cote, brothers in the honorable order of boucaniers."

He patted Winston's shoulder. "That is still true, _n'est-ce pas_? And together we will mount the greatest raid ever--on the Spanish island of Jamaica."

Winston was still puzzling over Katherine's sudden anger when he finally realized what Jacques had said. So, he thought, the old _batard_ wants to give me the men after all. Just as I'd figured. Now it's time to talk details.

"Together, Jacques. But remember I'm the one who has the pilot, the man who can get us into the harbor. So that means I set the terms." He sipped from his tankard, feeling the brandy burn its way down. "And since you seem to like it here so much, I'll keep the port for myself, and we'll just draw up some of those Articles of yours about how we manage the rest."

"But of course, Anglais. I've already been thinking. Perhaps we can handle it this way: you keep whatever you find in the fortress, and my men will take the spoils from the town."

"Wait a minute. The town's apt to have the most booty, you know that, Jacques."

"Anglais, how can we possibly foretell such a thing in advance? Already I am a.s.suming a risk . . ."

Jacques smiled and turned to look down at the bay. As he moved, the railing he had been standing beside exploded, spewing slivers of mastic wood into the evening air. When he glanced back, startled, a faint pop sounded from the direction of the hill behind the fort.

Time froze as a look of angry realization spread through the old boucaniers eyes. He checked the iron ladder, still lowered, then yelled for the guards below to light the linstocks for the cannon and ready their muskets.

"Katy, take cover." Winston seized her arm and she felt him pull her against the side of the house, out of sight of the hill above. "Maybe Commandant le Basque is not quite so popular with some of his lads as he seems to think."

"I can very well take care of myself. Captain. Right now I've a mind to kill you both." She wrenched her arm away and moved down the side of the citadel.

"Katy, what . . .?" As Winston stared at her, uncomprehending, another musket ball from the dark above splattered into the post beside Jacques. He bellowed a curse, then drew the pistol from his belt and stepped into the protection of the roof. When he did, one of the guards from below, wearing a black hat and jerkin, appeared at the top of the iron ladder leading up from the courtyard. Jacques yelled for him to hurry.

"d.a.m.n you, _vite_, there's some fool up the hill with a musket."

Before he could finish, the man raised a long flintlock pistol and fired.

The ball ripped away part of the ornate lace along one side of Jacques's collar. Almost before the spurt of flame had died away, Jacques's own pistol was c.o.c.ked. He casually took aim and shot the guard squarely in the face. The man slumped across the edge of the opening, then slid backward and out of sight.

"Anglais." He turned back coolly. "Tonight you have just had the privilege of seeing me remind these _cochons_ who controls this island."

Even as he spoke, the curly head of de Fontenay appeared through the opening. When Jacques saw him, he beckoned him forward. "Come on, and pull it up after you. Too many killings will upset my guests' dinner."

The young Frenchman stepped slowly onto the platform, then slipped his right hand into his ornate doublet and lifted out a pistol. He examined it for a moment before reaching down with his left and extracting another.

"I said to pull up the ladder, d.a.m.n you. That's an order."

De Fontenay began to back along the railing, all the while staring at Jacques with eyes fearful and uncertain. Finally he summoned the courage to speak.

"You are a _bete_, Jacques, truly a beast." His voice trembled, and glistening droplets of sweat had begun to bead on his smooth forehead.

"We are going to open Purgatory and release the men you have down there. Give me the keys, or I will kill you myself, I swear it."

"You'd do well to put those guns away, you little _fou_. Before I become annoyed." Jacques glared at him a moment, then turned toward Winston, his voice even. "Anglais, kindly pa.s.s me one of your pistols.

Or I will be forced to kill this little _putain_ and all the rest with my own bare hands. I would regret having to soil them."

"You'd best settle this yourself, Jacques. I keep my pistols. Besides, maybe you should open that new dungeon of yours. We never needed anything like that in the old days."

"d.a.m.n you, Anglais." His voice hardened. "I said give me a gun."

At that moment, another guard from below appeared at the opening. With a curse, Jacques stepped over and shoved a heavy boot into his face, sending the startled man sprawling backward. Then he seized the iron ladder and drew it up, beyond reach of those below. He ignored de Fontenay as he turned back to Winston.

"Are you defying me too, Anglais? _Bon_. Because before this night is over, I have full intention of settling our accounts."

"Jacques, _mon ami!_" Winston laughed. "Here all this time I thought we were going to be _freres_ again." He sobered. "Though I would prefer going in partners with a commander who can manage his own men."