by Mark Keating
One table, two chairs, books and bottles in equal abundance, the bindings and glass the same green, reds and browns as if they were chosen to match.
‘It is quite touching. It is as if, in her sparseness, she is only half-finished, fresh and new. A ship cut back to the bone.’
Devlin stepped forward. ‘You wanted my parole,’ he said.
‘Indeed,’ Trouin brushed some dust from Devlin’s table. ‘To look at you I’m sure I have it. To begin well I should like to know how it is that you know me. I am sure it is not from statues and paintings. I do not know myself from them.’
‘Time ago I saw you paraded in Paris. During the war.’
‘Ah,’ Trouin sat back. ‘And some time after you signed to the Marine Royale?’
Trouin’s small revelation of his past was subtly given out to let Devlin know that any cards he might try to conceal would have backs made of glass.
‘My belly inspired me. There were many Irishmen signed.’
‘Yet you joined the English when it served to save your skin. You are a cuckoo with your loyalties.’
‘I was captured. I helped save my officers’ lives by translating for the English captain.’ That had been John Coxon. The man had made post-captain on the Irishman’s information.
‘And no doubt offered as much treason as you could to preserve yourself.’
Devlin had heard enough of his past. That young man was but a distant cousin to him now. The same blood, some features similar, but uncomfortable to shake hands with.
‘What now, Milord? You have my ship, my men. Where do I sign for your mercy for them?’
Trouin ran a thumbnail down his face as he studied the man before him. It had only been two days since he had captured the Shadow and that had not been too difficult. He had given Bill his hoop to jump through and Bill had done so and fallen against the rocks just as Trouin had planned.
There had been blood, but the Shadow was outmanned and outgunned and too wounded. Black Bill had sworn he was Devlin and that Trouin had done a great deed – one which the best English navy bloods could not. But sly Trouin knew he had stumbled on a larger game; he knew that he was not facing the pirate who had eluded the world.
The real pirate captain was gone; a French tartane’s crew was present with only their ship missing, and their bellies fuller than they had ever been; on a promise that they would have their ship back in time, and the fact that they were taken near Le Havre. Black Bill had sweated enough for Trouin to suspect that all he had to do was return to Le Havre and wait.
Now he had the pirate: now he had the final page. Still missing was the first.
‘You seem to accept your fate most willingly for one who has commanded so many and been free for so long. And you pirate in my waters when your own Caribbean is so rich and so much easier. Suppose you tell me, Captain, what is your real purpose on this little sea?’
Devlin looked at the guards. Soldiers, just soldiers. He could take them both in the same time it took to count them. He would have a gun, a shield in the old captain at his table, enough of his finest men to take back the ship.
Trouin watched the pendulum swinging across the pirate’s thoughts and Devlin snapped back to the sound of a pistol cocking to his guts.
Trouin grinned. ‘I insist, on your parole, to enlighten me.’
The cabin door opened and Trouin’s gun stayed on the pirate as Albany Holmes was escorted in. The escort saluted, backed out and closed the door.
Trouin noted both the pale face, distinctive against the rest of the dark crew, and the narrowing of Devlin’s eyes. This fellow was not one of them and Trouin knew a wedge when he saw one. And this man had been on the tartane. His presence could be entertained.
‘Who are you to disturb me, sir?’
Albany brushed down his poor cloth and bowed with the faintest respect. He ignored Devlin and squared himself before Trouin, speaking loud and slow for the foreigner to understand.
‘Your Honour, Captain. My name is Albany Holmes. I present myself to you as a representative of His Majesty’s government. This ship is under privateering rules of the King, an ally of your own. I insist that this ship is released under my own cognisance and is allowed to continue on its way. Any manner of affront may be taken up with his Lordship Townshend at a later date when we return to England under my honour.’ He straightened as best he could in his ill-fitting wool. ‘I’m sure your admiral would prefer that you respect your own code of trade with regard to His Majesty’s privateers.’
Trouin uncocked his weapon. ‘Yes. Yes, I’m sure my admiral would concede such rights to your king. That is if I had an admiral. Or if I needed to make concessions. Unfortunately – for your plea – I am burdened with being in entire command of the waters beneath your feet, and the captain and I were about to discuss the day. He at least had the decency to be aware of the man he was addressing before he opened his mouth.’
Albany sniffed, looked sheepishly at Devlin’s anger but held his ground, as all gentlemen do with regard to those who must work for their bread.
‘I did not catch your name?’
Trouin smiled as he might at a capon presented as a hen for his supper. ‘If you have privateering papers, let me see them. But I do not think that, however voluminous they may be, there will be any line in them that allows you to pirate a French vessel in her own waters.’
Albany haughtily agreed as if he were not at fault. ‘Quite so. Nevertheless I insist that this vessel return to England. We are on a mission that will benefit the whole of Europe and for which you will only be rewarded for allowing us to continue.’
Devlin sprang forward. ‘Albany! Enough!’ He could have still won this day if the damned Englishman had not flapped his tongue. The guards put out their muskets and the pirate stopped.
Albany waved him away. This was his stage now. The Irish bog-trotter did not understand politics. The boldness of an English gentleman impressed lesser nationalities throughout the world, and his voice was his letter of introduction.
‘The captain is ignorant of the larger purpose for which both our crowns are in jeopardy if we are not allowed to cruise on.’ He stepped to the table.
‘I only require enough men to take the ship in. You can take the pirate as reward. His captaincy is no longer needed and he has broken his orders in taking one of your ships. He would be disavowed and hung on his return at my insistence for such an act. You may have my assurance as a gentleman on that fact.’
Trouin dropped a glove to the table, the draught of which caused the single candle on the table to crackle and suffer. It grew again as his breath fanned it. ‘Thank you, sir. It may have taken me hours to remove from the pirate that which you have given with such grace. But perhaps I need to know one thing more.’
He stood slowly but his pistol swiftly reversed so that the cap and butt became a bludgeon, and he scraped it against the overhead beam as he brought it down across Albany’s temple just hard enough to crack him to his knees.
He gripped a spluttering Albany by his wool slops and pulled him up face to face. ‘What, sir, for your king, and my country are you doing in my waters!’
‘Trouin!’ Devlin yelled, and the chef d’escadre dropped Albany and span his pistol back to the pirate.
‘He’s just a long-coat fop! Sent to watch and note, that’s all.’ Devlin stabbed his finger at his own chest. ‘I’m the one. I’ll show you what we’re doing if it’ll give my men a month’s trial. Breath to make their ends to a priest.’
He turned away to the locker-seats. The guards cocked their muskets at the sudden movement but Trouin put up his hand for them to hold back.
Devlin plucked the diamond from his rags and tossed it to the table where it bounced and chimed joyously. Trouin clapped a hand over the spinning gem and then slowly uncovered it.
Devlin saw all their eyes fall to the stone, saw it capture them all as it had always done since it had been wrenched from the mud of the Parteal mine’s walls.
Distraction enough.
He flew at both guards, using their muskets as their weakest points. Their faith in their iron vanished in such a small space.
He pushed the long guns up into their faces, forcing their skulls against the bulkhead where their hats fell across their eyes, and then he swept their feet away with his leg. One of their muskets Devlin grasped upended in his fists and he cracked it down into their noses one by one, again and again as if shovelling a hole until they stopped trying to get up.
He knew Trouin would have his gun on him, would be crouching and aiming at his back, and he knew Albany would not take any advantage. He dropped against his cabin wall and rolled up one of the bodies to cover himself, flung the musket away and shouted for his life. English now, knowing Trouin would understand, gambling that his men would not.
‘You and me, Trouin! Talk this out! Shoot that ponce, but that diamond is Philippe’s stone! The King’s stone for his crown. I’ve got it. I’ve taken it. That’s what I’m doing here. You can take it back.’ He breathed deep, let the sight of the diamond do its work. ‘How would you like to be a hero again, Milord?’
Albany squealed from where he cowered on the floor. ‘Devlin! You betray your king! God damn you, sir!’
‘Shut your hole! I’m trying to save your life! What’ll it be, Milord? Will you hear me out or will we die slapping at each other in my cabin?’
Trouin’s pistol swung first at Albany then towards Devlin crouched behind one of his semi-conscious guards.
‘You have my ear, Captain. You have no weapon?’
‘None.’ He rolled the body aside leaving his head and belly exposed to Trouin’s pistol and repeated his word distinctly. ‘None.’
Trouin was ready to shoot the pirate now, more so than before when he came aboard and ploughed through his men. Why let him live? Devlin’s only hand, although meaner than any of Trouin’s cards, was that the death of Bill had stirred the pirates. If he gave them now the death of their captain the order he had gained would be lost. And then the diamond presented itself. Perhaps it was the missing page Trouin was looking for. Devlin had given Trouin a mystery, a question, the word ‘hero’ mentioned once and enough.
Trouin lowered the doghead of his pistol but kept it in his hand. ‘Then we will talk. On this diamond and your word.’ He turned to Albany. ‘And you will be quiet until spoken to. King or no king, you will wait.’
He glared at his men wiping blood from their faces and retrieving their muskets. He nodded to the pirate. ‘You and I will talk. Before you bleed any more of my men.’
Dandon stood with Peter Sam, under guard, and watched Albany stumble from the cabin dabbing at his head.
‘That does not look promising, my Peter Sam,’ Dandon breathed. He had given some warning to Albany that approaching the new master with demands might not go well. Trouin’s blow had also bruised Albany’s conceit and he fell in beside Dandon, checking his kerchief continuously for blood.
‘We are doomed,’ Albany attested. ‘Devlin will give us up. He has given the frog the gem for his own hide. Our mission is lost and we will all hang for pirates.’
Dandon kept his eyes on the cabin door, thinking about the conversation going on behind it. ‘So, Albany, you cracked your own head in frustration when Devlin bowed, no doubt?’
Albany said nothing but could feel the glare of Peter Sam, abreast of Dandon.
Inside, Devlin took a seat, the guards at his shoulders. Trouin had taken a pencil and paper from the baize-lined drawer within the table, speaking unaccented English as he wrote.
‘I will give you a few minutes, Captain. As you have already broken the parole that I granted by further attacking my men you will lose your right to be treated as a gentleman. You will be chained as a prisoner along with the rest of your men.’ His writing hand paused and spun the diamond. ‘Now tell me how you acquired this gem, if it is the Regent as you say.’
Devlin looked up at the men at his shoulders.
Trouin tapped the table to bring his attention back to only him. ‘Do not worry. They do not understand. Speak of what you have done. Is it truly the Regent?’
‘It is. The Pitt Diamond as it was.’ He hung one arm over the back of his chair lazily. ‘And there is some truth in Albany’s speech. We are on a mission for the crown, or at least its government.’
‘Jackals every one, I’m sure.’ Trouin went back to his page, ready to take down the confession of the pirate.
‘That’s a given, but,’ he pointed to the stone on the table, ‘that diamond is worth a king’s ransom; what say you on its worth to a pirate’s ransom, Commodore?’
Trouin leant back. ‘It is not yours to offer. It is mine. Along with everything you once thought you owned.’
‘So what is to drive me to tell you all I know?’
Trouin flung the pencil down and sprang to his feet at Devlin’s arrogance.
‘It is over, Captain! You know that, surely? I will take this ship into Brest, with my two ships as escort. Your men will be tried and hung. You will be tried for piracy and treason, for you once deigned to be a part of my fleet! A special privilege for you! You will be broken on the wheel like a noble for such a crime!’ He glowered down at the pirate.
‘Three years you have been at the game, and perhaps in your conceit you expect that it has not ended yet! But you know me. You know in your heart that this is how it ends!’
Devlin looked up into the oddly kind brown eyes. ‘You’d best give me back my ship. Take the diamond and I’ll be on my way. I’ll do you no harm.’
Trouin snorted and kicked away the legs of Devlin’s chair. The pirate crashed backwards onto the boards, the guards’ muskets’ mouths pointing at his grinning face. He brushed them aside and dragged himself up. He was still talking.
‘You’ve a day to get into Brest. A day with me and my men. That’s a long day in the company of pirates.’
Trouin glared back. ‘Then I kill you now, if it is so dangerous to keep you alive.’
‘Ah, but where’s the glory in bringing me in dead? You never beat me. We had no fight in your waters. You bested my old sailing master, that’s all.’ Demeaning Bill choked, but Devlin was flying now. He cocked a thumb to the guards. ‘Your own men will let out that we argued. That there was a diamond. A fight. The whole ship will know. And then maybe you killed me out of fear. Or maybe you killed me for the diamond. You know how ships whisper. What would you prefer your men to say of you?’ He picked himself up and took his seat under the watch of the muskets. ‘But I could swear that I’ll lay down. Go in under my honour. And my men will be good little boys.’
Trouin’s anger turned to mirth. He sat down with the pirate. He had studied the history of the man. The grin opposite was not a mask covering a brag. There was mettle in his deeds. He glanced again at the fat square diamond.
‘You have taken this diamond from the regent, I am to believe? If I judged you only on that you are a dead man. Your crimes pile up like firewood yet you speak to me of honour and bargaining when you have nothing to give. I must say, Captain, that you are one of the strangest men who thinks himself significant that I have ever met.’
Devlin leant forward. ‘For four years I fished out of St Malo. I learnt of Breton men. Learnt from Breton men. Heard of you like a god. Your brothers have always sought a republic from the nobles. You were a corsair, as much a pirate as me, and stole Dutch and English ships like picking up pebbles. Not to defend them but to protect your own lands. I would honour you to say that the first man I became was born out of those years.’
Trouin leant in also. The pirate’s knowledge of him was intriguing. There had been nothing of his Breton life in the official record.
Devlin went on. ‘The second man I became was from shining shoes and brushing coats. I was a servant. But I never forgot those Breton men and their dignity, and when I saw you today I recalled your tales.’
Trouin looked at his marines. Young. Young men born of France, not his realm. All his men
weighed less in courage than this pirate who had at least lived through his years.
‘So? You know of me. And yes, I was pirate once it could be said. But now I have your ship and you. Your end has nothing to do with Trouin and his deeds these past thirty years. You are an enemy to my king.’
‘No king. A man who would be king. And I have not heard your name for years. You do not belong in their world. Does Paris still sing your praises?’ He noticed the pencil had written nothing.
‘You can tickle the pup they sent to watch me, and I’m sure he will tell you all you wish to know. But I learnt my honour from Bretons. You would have to remove my head to make it talk. And your king would want my confession for I have names to give.’
Trouin stood. ‘I am dry, Captain. Would you join me in a drink from your own store?’
‘After this.’ Devlin also stood, both of them leaning in over the table, the diamond palely lighting their faces as the afternoon sun came through the stern windows.
‘I can give you my oath as a man once of Breton that you can take us, curtailed, into Brest. I’ll make no bones against you and my men will follow. Or you can spend the next night and day wondering when I’ll make my move; when my men will rise against your boys. These aren’t men with wives and families like some of yours might be. They got nothing to lose and they’d rather die in the scuppers than at the end of a rope.’
‘And then what? You take back your ship? The same ship that I took with my two vessels. The ships that are at our quarters even now?’
‘You didn’t take it from me, Milord.’
Trouin closed his eyes, as if finding the arrogance blinding. He went to the roped shelf of bottles, searched for a cup or glass then gave up and pulled a cork on the deepest bottle. There was something in the pirate’s words. The ending seemed written. Take them to Brest, return the diamond, bow to the crowds. But a favoured man of theirs had been killed when he, Trouin, had promised otherwise on his honour. And after that just three of them had begun with some success to assail his crew. Devlin had a hundred pirates of that kidney. The shame of it if he rolled into Brest with nothing. No one would remember the past, only the present failure. His chance to return to glory would be lost, irretrievably.
