"Mr. Harkness!" I shout down. "Give him one across his bow."
Crracckk!
The bow chaser barks out its nine-pound ball. It hits a few yards off to the left of the ship. Good shooting. We don't want to hurt the prize, which looks to be a nice little two-masted schooner, maybe ninety feet long. Good and beamy and sure to hold a fat cargo. Little Mary, Cheapside Mary, that greedy little thief who still lives within me and is never very far from the surface, is in full control of me now, and my heart beats in a state of high excitement as we bear down. Better than rollin drunks, eh, Mary? I think.
"Another on his other side, Mr. Harkness!"
Crraacckk!
The Long Tom blows out another blast of fire and smoke. That was quick reloading, Jack Harkness. Good job.
The ball hits about ten yards to the right of the schooner, but she shows no sign of heaving to. Probably doesn't know anything about that, striking the colors and all, being a noncombatant. Give up nicely now, Frenchy. This is strictly business, nothing personal. Don't want anyone to get hurt.
I swing back down to the quarterdeck. Drake had already been told to issue cutlasses and they gleam in the hands of my sailors.
"We'll come along his port side and take him there," I say to Jared. "Mr. Raeburne, muster the Boarding Party, but keep the starboard gun crews at their stations in case..."
Booommmm...
There's a blast from the other ship, a high whistle and a neat round hole appears in the mainsail right above our heads. He's firing on us, the sod! The cheek of the man!
"Close now!" I shout to Jared. "Man the Boarding Party on the starboard side!" The drummer boy starts his drum roll and I pull my sword.
We're comin' up fast on the prize, only about fifty feet away ... now twenty ... ten ... we are on her!
"Starboard gun crews, hold your positions!" yells Robin, lifting his own cutlass. "Grappling hooks, away!" He gets up on the rail.
The hooks are thrown and the ships are pulled together.
I lift my voice in the chant, "Were-wolves! Were-wolves! Were-wolves!"
And the chant is taken up by the entire crew, until the very sky seems to shake with it.
Were-wolves! Were-wolves! Were-wolves!
With Robin in the lead, the Werewolves surge over the rail, waving their cutlasses and yelling like very devils from Hell. Jared and I swing aboard and we find the crew of the smuggler cowering against the starboard rail. Their Captain stands up before them and unbuckles his sword.
"Capitaine?" he asks of Robin. The French Captain is plainly enraged by the turn of events, but I guess he intends to do things in the right way with the giving up of his sword and all. Robin shakes his head and directs the Werewolves to disarm the smuggler crew and herd them back onto the Wolverine, where they will be confined below.
"Capitaine?" he says again, holding his sword out to Jared.
Jared grins his mocking grin and bows low, sweeping his arm toward me, standing there with Persephone in my hand. "No, Sir. This is the Cappy-tan. May I present our own Captain Puss-in-Boots?"
The Frenchman's mouth drops open. "Une femme! Une jeune fille!" he says and pulls his sword and I drop down in the ready position, but he pulls the sword to use on himself, not me. Jared comes up next to him and knocks the sword out of his hand.
"You'll get over it, Froggie, count on it," says Jared. "After all, we did."
The French crew of what turns out to be the Emilie is taken over to the Wolverine, to be put into the brig until we can prepare the fo'c'sle for them. I go to the hatch that leads down into the hold. There is a lock on it. Jared comes up next to me and upon seeing it, takes an ax from its place in a bracket on the mainmast, swings back, and smashes the lock off. We go in.
In the gloom, I see stacks and stacks of cases. As my eyes become used to the gloom, I see what is stamped into the sides of the cases:
H. M. FLETCHER & SONS
IMPORTERS OF FINE WINES
BRATTLE STREET, LONDON
Oh, my ... Jaimy Fletcher's dad...
Laughter bubbles up in my chest, but I make myself stop thinkin' about that 'cause I got a real problem here. I stick my head back out the hatch and bellow, "Mr. Drake, to me NOW!" I look again at the cargo. Christ! Just what I need—a hundred drunken Werewolves!
Peter Drake comes bounding across the deck and I climb back out of the hatch and stand in plain sight of the crew so that all can hear.
"Mr. Drake. You will secure this cargo. Shoot any man that tries to force his way into it. Do you understand?"
He says he does and motions to some of his trusted men to get chains and locks. Then he gives orders to collect the cutlasses, as they are no longer needed. Good man.
I step up on a hatch cover and say to my crew, "Werewolves!"
There is a roar in answer.
"You shall each share in this fine wine with your dinner tonight. We shall plunder the stores of this ship and you shall have the finest of feasts!" I pause. "But if you want to ever see any serious prize money, if you ever want to ever have money to spend when you go ashore, you have got to leave the cargo alone. We will take it back and we will sell it and you will all get your proper share. Do you understand?"
There is another roar.
"Good. Now let's get back on station before they know that we have been gone."
I put my foot back on the Wolverine and give the orders.
Captain Puss-in-Boots, indeed ... I'll get the rascal for that.
Chapter 18
"I wish you the joy of your first command, Robin." I have called him into the cabin in the morning to give him his orders before he departs with the prize. It is the first time we have been alone together since he was released from the brig.
He comes up to me and takes my hand and holds it to his lips.
"I don't care about my first command. All I care about is you. Why did you not send Jared or Harkness back with the prize? I want to..."
"I know what you want to do, Robin, but we can't do that now. I am the Commander of this ship, however crazy that sounds, and you are my First Mate. We have to keep it that way, at least for a while, till this is all resolved. I do have great affection for you and I do love you, in my way, but ... I'm confused ... and I do intend to live single all of my life, as I am convinced that would be best, considering the mess I usually make of things."
"That's nonsense, Jacky, and you know it." He puts his arm around my waist and draws me to him, but I push him back.
"Please, Robin. We must deal with the problem at hand. Your orders are to sail the prize back to England and register it with the Prize Court. See if there are any problems. Get a lawyer if that seems wise. It is your job to protect the crew's money. This is our big chance and we are all counting on you. When you get that done, hire a boat to bring you and the prize crew back as soon as possible. This scam won't last forever, and I'll need you here."
He glowers at me. I soften a bit.
"I'll need you here, my beau sabreur," I say, and put my hand on the hilt of his new sword that hangs by his side. I had given him the French Captain's sword in the way of reward for how he had handled himself and the men of his Boarding Party when we took the prize. I turn my face up to his. "Now a kiss for good luck, and then go."
Our boat takes Robin over to the prize and he climbs aboard to take command. I had given him the money we found when we ransacked the French Captain's quarters. It wasn't much, but it will probably do to get things started—especially since I added a few gold pieces from Captain Scroggs's stash to it.
Jared has the watch and he comes up next to me to watch the Emilie sail off. He, Harkness, and Drake are in rotation as Officers of the Deck with Ned and Tom. I'm off the Watch list as befits my station. Pretty soft, that, but I do need my rest. No telling what is to come.
Jared is clad in his new warrant officer's jacket as befits his new station, and he looks good in it. The coat is black with a high collar and the gold tabs of rank sit upon the shoulders, and I know he wears it with pride. I can tell that by the way he takes a deep breath every now and again so as to feel it tighten across his chest. Higgins had somehow rounded up uniforms for the three new officers—probably from the stores of the unfortunate Mr. Harvey and Mr. Smythe. I shall have to make sure they are reimbursed for their loss. I'm sure Captain Scroggs will be delighted to pitch in.
"Why did you send the boy, Lieutenant?" he asks, as usual skirting the edge of insolence. "I could have sent Harper over with that ship."
"Because he's a gent, as well as a fine young man, Joseph," I say with narrowed eyes. Robin has proved he is no mere boy. "And we both know that will go a lot farther with the Admiralty than any of us common types showing up on their doorstep. If he runs into trouble, he'll ask his father or some other relative and they'll get a lawyer and things will be said in the right ears and things might work out well for us. You do know it's not a sure thing with prizes?" I ask, watching his face.
He grunts and says, "You mean they may call this piracy instead of prize taking?"
"Something like that. It depends whose ox is being gored in the loss of the cargo. There was someone in England waiting for that ship, you know."
I think back to the jolly time we had with the Fletcher wine company's product last night when I dined with my new officers. It was a wonder what Higgins had done with the musty old cabin. Fresh breezes blew through newly cleaned curtains. The bed mattress had been turned and set out for an airing and then returned to the bedstead and made up with fresh sheets and pillowcases. The table had been set with a gleaming white tablecloth and the place settings were perfect, the silverware polished and set just so, and the cabin positively gleamed with new wax.
The glasses twinkled merrily as Higgins poured the fine wine, and we drank toast upon toast to each other and to our bravery and to our cunning and we sang songs and told tales. It was then that I presented the French Captain's sword to Robin, saying that such a fine young gentleman should not be flinging himself onto the decks of enemy ships with a common cutlass in his hand. I gave him a peck on the cheek as I presented it to him, but that was all he was to get in that way. I saw him sneaking glances at the newly cleaned, newly aired, and newly fluffed-up bed beneath the speaking tube, the bed in which I would later be sleeping. I know he is picturing me as I looked in my bed in the midshipmen's berth the last time we were there together.
And that is another reason I sent Robin off—to try to cool his ardor a bit. It's a touchy thing with Robin. For me to have actually offered myself to him that time, as I did, and then to turn around and pull back into propriety, well, I know it's hard on him. Explaining that the circumstances are different now doesn't seem to help much, either.
My crew, as well, enjoyed themselves hugely at dinner, with the booty taken from the Emilie's stores and the ration of wine set out for them. I announced that singing and dancing was allowed until six o'clock, and from my cabin I heard the sound of a pennywhistle, something I had not heard in a long time, and I vowed to find out who was the player. He was pretty good.
I rouse myself back to the present and say to Jared, "Keep a sharp eye out for any more that might try to cross our wake, Mr. Jared," and I leave the quarterdeck and go below to check on the prisoners.