The Pirate Devlin

by Mark Keating

  'And Talton? What does his death achieve?' Coxon turned back, noting the quizzical looks of the two sailors at the mention of the death that had no doubt been the after-watch talk below deck that very morning.

  Guinneys smiled once more. 'Your pistols, please, John. You may keep the cutlass, on your honour.'

  Coxon peaceably released his pistols to Cole and Williams in turn. 'When I am back aboard, Guinneys, the other officers may dispute your actions. Take care with me, William.'

  'Quite. You are referring to the men who have sailed with me as captain for the last few years, are you not? I am sure your men on the Noble were just as loyal. You should ask your pirate man about them, perhaps.'

  He faced Cole again. 'Back to the gate. Captain Coxon will accompany me as master. I will notify Lieutenant Scott. Keep a weather eye out for the rest of the scum. We will return to the ship with our new entourage and prepare to board that brigantine.'

  'Aye, Cap'n.' Cole tapped his forehead, Williams likewise, and they beat their feet.

  'Do not feel too bad, John.' Guinneys began to walk back to Bessette's rooms; Coxon stepped beside him looking straight ahead. 'It is thanks to you that we arrived here in time. I most probably could not have done it with such vigour. But then I had no honour to restore. And, as for the gold, well, I will be posted captain for my part and you will not have to face the ignominy of a council inquiry.'

  'And when do you kill me, William?' he asked calmly.

  Guinneys laughed, softly. 'I have no wish to kill you, John.'

  'But you will,' Coxon clarified.

  Guinneys slowed. 'My orders are to ensure that as few souls as possible know the true fate of this gold. And, if I stumble upon a Jacobite plot, my duty will always be to my king. Talton's mishap was purely to remove any involvement of the company in all this. I have known those sods for a long time: their greed is only matched by their power. Although I am impressed that you were able to discern his fate out of the ordinary.'

  'I am older than you are, William, but even so you should know there is no such thing as ordinary death on a man- of-war. Only wood, iron and blood. Everything else is suspect.'

  'Then I will bow to your more common knowledge.' They had reached the threshold. 'Now let's see what this pirate really knows.'

  The room was the same. Dandon still sat at the table, raising his head to the two officers as they entered, Guinneys stepping in first. Fauche still stood close to the wall, his eyes darting between everybody.

  'Gentlemen,' Guinneys addressed the assembly grandly, 'we will return to the Starling. Your rescue has come.' He drew his Thuraine pistols with the silver plate locks. 'There has been a change of command and circumstance, however, that requires some minor adjustments.'

  He fired his left-hand pistol, almost by accident, it seemed, into Fauche's side. All stared at the snaking smoke billowing from the black hole in Fauche's tunic, Fauche looking almost tenderly at the hole as he slid down the wall. His old leather hat became a pillow for his dying head as he lay awkwardly on his side, gurgling his surprise, wide-eyed to the whole room, his musket clattering to the floor a moment later.

  The fury of the pistol broke the somnolent atmosphere that the heat of the afternoon had created like an iceberg crashing through the wall.

  Coxon, as fast as thought, grabbed Guinneys' smoking left arm.

  'Scott,' he cried, 'hold him with me, man! He's mad!'

  Guinneys looked at Coxon as if he had merely been disturbed in a daydream.

  'Unhand me, John!' He elbowed Coxon off.

  Only then did Coxon notice that Scott had never moved. His pistol still pointed at Devlin, and he cocked it with a snap as the pirate's look changed to anger and menace.

  'William,' Scott whispered calmly, 'was that completely necessary, old boy?'

  Guinneys ignored the comment, pushing Coxon to the wall, his powder-stained hand clicking his second pistol into life and pointing it threateningly to Coxon's chest.

  'Hold there, John, if you please.' He smiled.

  'What in hell is this, Guinneys?' Coxon yelled.

  'Change of plan, 'tis all.' He turned to Lieutenant Scott. 'If the others heard that, Richard, Coxon grabbed my pistol from me and shot the dog, understand?'

  'Aye, William.' Scott nodded.

  Guinneys eyed Dandon, who still sat, his mouth agape, dien smiling as he caught Guinneys' stern gaze, his gold teeth glinting with charm. Both hands were flat on the tablecloth, innocent and still.

  Guinneys moved on to Devlin and shoved a boot into his ribs. 'You! Pirate! Tell me about the gold.'

  Devlin rocked slightly as the boot scraped between his ribs. 'I see the board still picks fine officers, Captain. These two do you proud.' He winked to Coxon.

  Guinneys rapped his pistol across Devlin's temple, the small silver bead of the sight drawing pink above his brow. 'Talk to me, filth, not him.'

  Devlin looked up at Guinneys, and slowly spoke. 'And what do you want to know, Captain Guinneys?' His voice low with hate.

  'That boat on shore? That waits for you, I take it?'

  Devlin's face never moved. 'No. That boat was there when we landed, Captain. I'll gladly swear on your life to that matter, Captain.'

  'And what of your men? Are there any hiding around?'

  'If there be, it is not to my mind. You say my ship is there. Then that's where my men be. Waiting for my frigate. I am abandoned, I don't doubt. As is the way. They wait, as your ship can't get in past the sand bar. So they wait for the frigate to escort them, I shouldn't wonder. They are short-handed. They would not fare well escaping from you alone.'

  'And what of the frigate?' Guinneys shoved his boot again into Devlin's side.

  'She was behind us. A day, I reckon. Nigh on a hundred souls. If she was coming, she'd be here.' Devlin looked at Scott and Guinneys in turn. 'I believe I am abandoned twofold.'

  Guinneys seemed satisfied. He turned back to Coxon. 'You see, John? Boat was there all along. But I hold to the idea indeed that we are not alone.' He faced the room again. A small frosted bottle had appeared magically in his left hand, stopped with a square jade top, a similarly coloured liquid within the glass.

  'Doctor,' he addressed the startled Dandon, 'I request you to administer some drops of this to the remaining guards in the mess.' He levelled his pistol at the startled Dandon. 'Unwillingly, naturally.'

  Coxon was transfixed by the bottle. A scenario unfolded before his eyes where the same had been forced upon the unfortunate Edward Talton. A horrible play of struggle and panic in the cramped berth where Talton wrote his letters of disgust.

  'Is that the same concoction you killed Talton with, William?' he asked coldly.

  'The very same, John.' Guinneys bowed slightly. 'Sayak. An arsenic solidus brimstone mixture. Quite regal, in fact.'

  Coxon had hoped that the insinuation of murder would provoke a query from Lieutenant Scott. None was forthcoming. Scott remained steadfastly focused on Devlin, his pistol dutifully aimed at his chest.

  Coxon had never felt so powerless. The ship would change things. Bide your time. Get to the ship, back to Howard and Anderson, Surgeon Wood, Sailing Master Dawson. This madness would soon end. His thoughts trailed away, ending abruptly at the realisation that he was sharing a look with Devlin, who immediately lowered his gaze, feeling the same lack of control.

  Dandon stood, his chair scraping, disturbing the flies that had begun to settle around Bessette's mottling face. Two dead men, quite strangely being ignored by all, as if they were merely sleeping cats, part of the elegant furniture.

  'I do not wish to kill, monsieur,' Dandon said meekly.

  'Put your pistol to the table, Doctor,' Guinneys ordered. 'You will go with Lieutenant Scott to the mess. Kill them all.'

  Dandon slowly took out the small overcoat pistol and did as he was told. 'I must get some accoutrements from my chest, monsieur. May I?'

  'Of course.' Guinneys smiled gracefully. 'Now, we shall retire outside, gentlemen.' He pul
led Devlin up like baggage, showing mild surprise as Devlin stood a couple of inches above him. 'To the door, Richard.' Lieutenant Scott obeyed. 'Master Coxon, sir,' Guinneys said, 'if you would join us, please.'

  Coxon bowed his head and followed Scott through the door outside into the golden day. Guinneys waited for Dandon to collect some cotton wadding and a thin glass tube. Then, his arm linked with the pirate Devlin, he pushed Dandon to follow Coxon and Scott to the next stage of his performance. They left the silent Bessette and Landri Fauche to stare ever vacant, diligently sitting watch over the ignored and lonely black chest, still waiting for more death, beneath the table.

  * * *

  Chapter Sixteen

  Fortunately there were only three of the men left alive. By the time Dandon had reached the third, however, his soul had been swallowed irretrievably beneath his feet. He found a shard of consolation, of self-forgiveness, in that Scott's pistol watched every movement of his trembling hands.

  As he drew yet another sample through the glass tube from the bottle, transferring it to a cup of wine, a sickness overcame him, a loathing for the gold and the travesty that his life had become.

  Once, he had convinced his heart that he would have been a doctor in Bath Towne had it not been for the status of his birth, for the want of money. Now, as he passed the liquid over the pale lips of the last of the young Frenchmen, he knew what others had always known: it had been a slack and wanton nature, a lust for wine, for easy sleep and lazy days in the Caribbee sun. And it brought him here, watching the glassy-eyed wonder in a youth's eyes fade as he lowered the young man's head gently to the floor again.

  Dandon stood and placed the cup down amongst the dead bottles. He felt weak, heavy. Wiping the glass tube with some wadding, he turned to face Scott shadowed in the doorway 'I hope this matter has ended now, Lieutenant.' Dandon's French accent was subdued but never lost as he handed back the deadly bottle. 'I am going back to the room now to collect my chest. I will also be requiring a drink. You may shoot me, if you wish to refuse my request, and I may be thankful if you choose to do so, but I will die with a bottle in my hand. It is a promise I have made myself this day.'

  He brushed past Scott, who passed one lingering look across the floor of the mess before closing the door and following Dandon.

  In the glare of the sun by the gate, the assembly took on the air of a courtroom. By tradition, and by habit of living in fourteen inches to a man, the group took up a small area. The four men in slops and straw hats stood shoulder to shoulder, whilst Guinneys strutted up and down before them. Coxon stood with his back to the gate, the dust from Guinneys' turn pasting his stockings.

  The pirate Devlin stood in pistol range before the sailors, his hands still tied behind him with the soft dainty cord from Bessette's bedchamber curtain. All the while Guinneys spoke, almost chanting a plan of action.

  'We will retire to the shore with the pirate and his whores. We will take it that the ship will not fire on him or the women, but even so we will not tarry in reaching our own longboat. On rejoining the marines along the path, close order and loaded weapons are to be maintained. The women will walk outside of us on the premise that some pirates may remain in an attempt to rescue their captain. Our objective is to secure the gold from the pirate vessel. Once they perceive that their captain is lost, they will attempt to leave, at which we should give chase in the Starling.' He stopped, his Cordova boots white with dust.

  'There is still the threat of the second vessel to contend with. Although you are no doubt as sure as I am that while our ship is made of three hundred acres of colonial oak, our hearts were cut from English trees. Is this not correct?'

  A loud, stout affirmation from the men in checked blue wool.

  'As ever it shall be.' Guinneys smiled. He watched the approach of Dandon and Lieutenant Scott. Dandon was struggling with his medicine cabinet and a bottle in his hand. 'Mister Scott,' Guinneys called, 'what situation do you have, ho?'

  Scott saluted. 'Corporal Fauche will stay and bury the unfortunate, Captain. He will wait for the barque to come and relieve him.'

  'Good,' Guinneys approved. 'Very well. We shall move from here to the shore.' He spun to Coxon. 'Master Coxon, you will take the pirate Devlin to the shore.' He turned swiftly round to the swaying Dandon, eyeing him up and down, noting he was still bald of weapons. 'Doctor, you should leave this place of death.'

  Dandon had little doubt that his own death was forthcoming, but he bowed all the same before his gibbet.

  'Do you feed your prisoners, Captain Guinneys?' Devlin asked as Coxon grabbed his elbow. 'I starve like an Irishman here.'

  'Have no fear, pirate.' Guinneys moved towards the gate. 'You'll hang heavy.'

  The lumbering walk up the path was hot and hard. The party had not truly noticed that the walk to the stockade meandered downhill. Now, the afternoon drew on the hunt of the evening insects, and the mournful cries of the slumbering birds began to fill the slow creep of the day as the strange troupe trekked across the island.

  A collection of knees and gaily coloured dresses greeted them at the turn of a corner. The women of Providence lay languidly amongst the fronds fringing the path, the pair of red-faced marines suddenly popping up like corks at the sight of the group that rounded the dusty bend.

  They marched on, the women on the outside, should an attack occur. Every common man was cradling a musketoon or musket, his head eyeing the trees for shadows, the stock of his weapon slippery with sweat.

  Coxon released his arm from Devlin to wipe a cuff down his sweating face. Devlin took the moment to talk.

  'Captain, we find ourselves in a fine situation, do we not?'

  Coxon left his hand free as they walked on. 'Had you not heard, Patrick? I be master now behind that fine young fellow.'

  'Aye. Just a rumour, I'm sure.'

  'What has become of you, Patrick?' Coxon shook his head. 'This life does not sort with how I raised you.'

  'Come now, Captain. I was a man when we met. Blame yourself little. When I sailed off with Thorn and the Noble you were dying and I had more toes than coin. If I told you that I hold enough coin now to buy a horse to shy the king, what would you say?'

  'Patrick, anyone can steal. Anyone. The pirate has always been. Always will. Sometimes they hide beneath the coats of gentlemen, but it all ends the same.' Solidly he met his servant's eyes. 'This will end the same. I know that. It's a small world for evil men.'

  'Spoken like the son of a clergyman, Captain.' Devlin smirked.

  'Your familiarity displeases me, Patrick,' Coxon snapped.

  'No, Captain. I would call you John to displease you. I have belittled governors more.'

  They had reached the break in the path that looked down to the Lucy in the bay.

  'Your ship, Patrick. Where you left it. Where your frigate left you all. A pity. I had hoped to lay eyes on her.'

  Almost a mile away to the east, the Starling sat glowing in the lowering sun, breathing on the swell like a sleeping infant, her sails furled like hammocks. No other ship filled the sea. No Shadow in the offing.

  'As we were,' Coxon said. 'I hope you at least felt that gold, Patrick.'

  'I may feel it still, Captain.' Devlin's face was oddly placid. 'The moon's a long way off.'

  Guinneys turned with a shout. 'Master Coxon! Move that dog. Lively now, sir.'

  'You're too old to dream, Patrick.' Coxon resumed the hand at Devlin's elbow and dragged him back to the group, now once again moving downhill. Devlin threw a single look to Dandon, who bowed his head from the gaze and busied himself with the encumbrance of his case.

  'Tell me, Captain,' Devlin resumed his patter, 'why all this interest in a little of the devil's work?'

  Coxon looked to Guinneys' back, noting the fine cut of his black silken coat that had not faded green across the shoulders like his own old cloth.

  'It is of an opinion that you have been tempted to stray on a Jacobite path. That some intelligence, possibly Spanish, has guide
d you to this island to steal the gold.' He coughed a little. 'The purpose of which I am led to believe is to harm relations with our French allies and to fund a Stuart restoration, perhaps. And I myself may have some knowledge on the matter.' Coxon's voice rose higher, as if by changing tone he could wipe the unpleasant thought from his mind. He changed course. 'Pray, what happened on the Noble, Patrick? What of young Thorn?'

  'Now, as I recall, the last time I saw Mister Thorn, he was swaying from a yardarm trying to catch as much shot as possible. Having decided to dispose of many of Mister Lewis's accoutrements.' Devlin briefly smiled at the thought.

  'Ah, Mister Lewis. I had almost forgotten the pompous arse. How fares he? He was taken, I was told. A precious commodity, no doubt.'

  'Aye. He had his eyes squeezed from his skull. Then we fed him to the porkers. Not very diplomatic, Mister Lewis, we found.'

  Coxon stopped, staring at the stranger beside him. Devlin caught the interlude with a light smile. 'I took it upon myself to be navigator. With your own expertise as my guide, naturally.'

  'Aye. That would be so. And what of any of my belongings? Did you hold on to any of them?' They were at the path to the beach now, the pace brisker as they moved down.

  'I managed a sword, and some silver, Captain. And that silver tube of lighting sticks you were fond of.'

  'Ho! The "Lucifers". Splendid. Good man. Where be they?'

  Devlin nodded his chin towards the Lucy.

  'Damn your eyes, Patrick!' Coxon snarled. 'My father's gift to me. You left them there?'

  'I'm after hoping that I'll be bloody glad I did, Captain.' Devlin's look was serious and cold.

  Guinneys raised a hand and the walking stopped. The sound of the sea kissing the sands wafted pleasantly to their ears. The same sound the world over.

  They were between the two boats on the shore: the longboat from the Starling, the coxswain rising from his lump of cheese and hard tack, brushing the crumbs from his worsted jacket and the beer from his lips; and the small craft from the Lucy, innocent and serene.