The Gun Ketch

by Dewey Lambdin

  Sore as he hurt, he had to grin slightly, remembering what his father Sir Hugo had penned. It had begun "You silly ranti-poling dog, sir! Have I not drummed into you one should rent, not purchase, quim?" That smile, however, was just as quickly gone.

  "God, it's so petty. So base! So cruel to her!"

  "It's Jack Finney," Deveaux declared bluntly. "Sugar?"

  "Finney? How could he get at Fleet mail, sir?" Alan gaped.

  "Not Finney directly," Deveaux allowed. "I doubt he has interests in your personal letters. But you did anger him when you caught his ship trading in pirated goods, and you stung him upon his sorest spot when you burned the cache and hauled him into court. He has powerful friends, sir. And money enough to buy anyone he desires."

  "So even you believe he's a pirate, sir?" Alan hoped aloud.

  "I'm certain of it," Deveaux stated firmly.

  "So he's bought himself a clerk in the Commodore's office, then. That way, he'd know where our patrols would be, so he might tell his piratical confederates," Alan realized. "And he never sued us because he would have been exposed as a smuggler at the least! Those goods we burned were never landed or bonded. And all this time Rodgers and I were fearing he'd end up making us jump through his lawyers' hoops!"

  "I expect it cost him considerable to stay out of court on any smuggling charges, to boot," Deveaux smiled thinly. "The assembly in which I sit, sir, the courts, the Governor's Council... see here, sir, Nassau is an offal-ditch, an open sewer, a cesspit of corruption, and all is for sale! When I was awarded my grant of land for what little I did to retake New Providence, I was more than happy to settle on Cat Island. Did you know even this salubrious isle was named long ago for an Arthur Catt, a pirate? And does that not tell you something about the Bahamas, sir? Most of the year, I am quite content to avoid Nassau with all its back-stabbing, money-grubbing squalor, and limit my visits to Assembly sessions. Even so, this far happily removed, we still get a whiff of its corruption, like an ill wind from an abbatoir. I have heard rumours. Peyton did not speak of them in his letter to you?"

  "Some vague hints, sir. But I took them to involve my letters. And my exile. He wasn't sure what had happened to me, either. He had written before, demanding me to answer him, to answer Caroline, or tell him why I would not. But how could I? I never got those, either!"

  "And thought to use me as intermediary, after he no longer could trust the Navy to forward mail. Or trust the Navy at all, sir," Colonel Deveaux said grimly. "He's begun to suspect something foul in our government, and said to me he'd also begun to nose about, to make discreet inquiries. I only pray to God they are discreet. There're thousands at stake in this, and the men involved are not above murder to keep their doings quiet. And to ask about John Finney's doings ... though a power of talk about him is common coin. People love to gossip about 'Calico Jack.' He's the sort who gets talked about. And loves it."

  "Do you know him well, sir?" Alan inquired.

  "Well enough, only as an acquaintance, mind," Deveaux smirked. "He's not the sort one has for a firm or trustworthy friend."

  "I hear a lot of people say the same, Colonel Deveaux."

  "Nodding acquaintances before the Dons landed, and allies when I mustered the volunteers. He helped arm them, you see, and brought his battleworthy bully bucks along," Deveaux chuckled. "In such need as we were, beggars can't be choosers. Back to those suspicions, and the rumours, though. Drunk sailors will brag, and the brag in taverns on the docks, and in Over-The-Hill, is that some of Finney's old hands were up to their old games, once their wartime prize money ran out, as you and Commander Rodgers believed. Too smart to take British ships, but assured that no one'd cry over foreign vessels if they got taken. Not only was Finney profiting from the cargoes he bought up cheap, but he was selling arms and powder to support them out of his chandlery, and brokering the best ships they took after they were repainted and renamed, and all marks of their former identity erased. Just as you thought in the beginning."

  "And I wish we'd caught just one of 'em who could have been made to swear to that at his trial, sir!" Alan growled."Faint hopes of that, Lieutenant Lewrie," Deveaux smiled. "Look at how quietly Doyle's men went to the gallows. I suspect Finney was no longer dealing with Doyle. Just too untrustworthy and wild! But he'd done so in the past, and they could have exposed it all to save their lives, were it not for the certain knowledge of what Finney would have done to their wives, sweethearts and parents. Their children."

  "I find it hard to remember that murderous buccaneers have such, sir," Alan responded.

  "Now who stands to profit most from their depredations?" Deveaux prodded. "Who gains? Who loses if it ends?"

  "Finney, of course, sir," Alan said quickly. "He's reaping a bumper harvest from it, and undercutting the other Bay Street traders something sinful. I'm surprised they haven't done for him long ago."

  "Ah, but he only undercuts them by a few pence overall, so as long as their prices stay high, they have no complaints," Deveaux said with a crafty glint in his eyes. "British ships are not bothered, so their insurance rates stay low. Foreign traders are ... discouraged, also keeping cheaper goods off the market to compete with theirs, most of the time, at least. Now, who else might profit by this?"

  "Well, the ships'-husbands in England, the shipowners here in the Bahamas," Alan pondered. "Insurance companies and mercantile interests in England. Stap me, I s'pose that pleases Parliament, too, if they own commercial interests. Or members who are owned by merchants!"

  "Parliament is pleased, brokers and bankers in the City," Colonel Deveaux chanted, "the Privy Council is pleased, and so, do I assume, is His Majesty King George. Revenues are up, insurance is low, trade flows freely ... and piracy is a minor inconvenience for foreign competitors only, just the thing for Dons, Frogs and crude rebel Yankees. And not so much piracy that anyone has to really do anything about it! Until you came along, that is, and quashed Doyle's band like so many noxious bugs. You even made our Royal Governor look good!"

  "Surely not the governor, sir?" Alan frowned. "You cannot mean that Finney could purchase a Royal Governor. Were the Bahamas still owned by the old proprietors, but we're a Crown Colony now, and ..."

  "Oh, not Maxwell!" Deveaux barked in sour humour. "Our previous governor was decent enough. And certainly not this new clown, our third Earl of Dunmore! He's too rich to bribe, and so arrogant, he'd be insulted if one tried! Lord Dunmore was Royal Governor of Virginia before the Revolution, you know. And I do think he started it, all by himself! Had he not been such a venal, greedy, lofty, pustulant toad as to set off Patrick Henry and Thomas Jefferson, we ..." Deveaux had to sip his tea to calm down. "No, Lewrie, Lord Dunmore was born without a jot of brains, and he's lost ground as he's aged. While he may be grasping and greedy, he'd never scruple piracy. I was thinking of someone a trifle lower down. Someone ... nautical, perhaps."

  "You can't mean ...!" Lewrie almost choked on his tea. "Damme, but ... your pardons, Mistress Deveaux ... Commodore Garvey, sir? What possible motive could he have?"

  "Beyond money?" Deveaux snorted. "Think! How does one enforce the Navigation Acts? How does one succeed in command of a foreign squadron? And prosper?"

  "Suppressing piracy'd suit," Lewrie said, rankled by Deveaux's impatient tone. "Keep down smuggling, keep the sea lanes safe. Seize ships and goods not British, and ... oh! And avoid getting sued to his hairline for false arrest! Christ! Pardons again, ma'am. As long as Finney and his crowd pillage only foreign ships, he's every Bay Street merchant's darling. The competition is frightened off, so he doesn't have an armada of interlopers to deal with, so our weak squadron isn't overrun. And if Finney does Garvey's dirty work, the Navy isn't sued so often. And money, of course."

  "And money, of course," Deveaux echoed. "And how is it done?"

  "We're too few already, sir, to really patrol the Bahamas," Alan said, shutting his eyes in thought for a moment. "Finney would be told which areas are unpatrolled. Maybe Finney asks him to keep warships a
way from certain cays. Or, he could send our worst officers, knowing which ones are just too bone-lazy, stupid, or fearful to intervene, to certain areas."

  "In like manner, once you and Commander Rodgers are perceived as energetic officers, you are sent very far away," Deveaux added. "To isolate you from this year's playing field So there will not be any Court of Inquiry at which any dangerous discoveries might appear that would harm either Garvey, or Finney. And your evidence from Walker's Cay is lost forever. Peyton Boudreau has heard some whisperings about that Some very guarded rumours, so far. One goes, 'we won't have no more trouble from those sods any longer—Calico Jack's stopped their business for us.' He overheard that one personally, Captain Lewrie, which sent him to digging and suspecting."

  "Well, I'm damned, sir!" Alan breathed. "Despise Garvey though I may... and you'd best believe I do!... still, he's a Commission Sea Officer, sir, and a senior one. A man sworn, and an English gentleman! To condone piracy for a price, that's ....!" Lewrie spluttered. "I know you must consider me hopelessly naive, Colonel Deveaux, but condoning Finney's piracy is condoning wholesale murder!"

  "Peyton Boudreau is a top-lofty, aristocratic cynic, Lieutenant Lewrie," Deveaux said with wistful amusement. "Or at least, he poses as one. A hard man to shock. Yet even he found it hard to dismiss after a time. There were too many rumours, too much muttered gossip to ignore. There's a toast that's heard in Over-The-Hill that Finney's old mates and sailors enjoy. 'To our Navy—our own, and the one we rent' d'ya see? He's learned enough to lay evidence with the solicitor-general, William Wylly. He's another Loyalist, not so long in these islands that he's been corrupted. Nor will ever be, if his repute is as good as I've heard. They were going to peek into Garvey's finances."

  "Stap me, sir, should Finney get wind of it, though," Alan said.

  "I know. Thank God he had enough sense to see Wylly, instead of proceeding further on his own. I fear for him. We like him very much, sir. And there's too much at stake for them to go gentle with him, if his investigation was exposed."

  "As do I and Caroline, sir," Alan assured them. "Remote as you are here on Cat Island, how do you converse so easily with Nassau?"

  "I've a small schooner. I know nothing of the sea myself, you know," Deveaux confessed with a small laugh. "But, with packet boats so rare or irregular, I thought to establish a mail-boat service for my own use, and the use of my neighbors. It breaks even, just."

  "I must get a letter to Caroline!" Alan exclaimed. "And one to Mister Boudreau, as well, warning him. Tell me your schooner is here!"

  "Anchored in The Bight, due to sail two days hence," Deveaux was quick to reassure him. "Your wife will be overjoyed to hear from you at last. Instruct her to send future letters here, addressed to me. Better yet, have her give them to Peyton, so she's not seen with my mail-boat captain, and we will have to pray no one will suspect him sending mail to me, an old friend from South Carolina. The fewer who know you're in communication with Nassau again, the better, for a lot of people."

  "You don't think Finney or his mates might harm Caroline, do you, sir?" Alan paled.

  "I told you there were thousands at stake in this, Captain Lewrie," Deveaux cautioned sternly. "There's no telling what they might do, to protect their reputations, and their profits. It might be best if she could give no sign to anyone that she had heard from you."

  "I understand, sir. I'll tell her," Alan said, rising. "With your permission, Colonel Deveaux, I'll go back aboard Alacrity. With mail to cheer my people. And letters to write. Lord, thank you for everything, Colonel Deveaux! I cannot begin to express my gratitude. Even if my exile was mere spite, F m forever in your debt for being able to exchange letters with my Caroline again."

  He pumped Deveaux's hand energetically.

  "Before I sail, though, sir," Alan added. "Could I have a fair copy of all that you and Mister Boudreau suspect? Before, we had no way to prove Finney guilty, none a court would accept. This time, we just might have a chance of having his head on a plate! And nailing Commodore Garvey's hide to my mainmast into the bargain!"

  "You will have everything, Captain Lewrie," Deveaux promised. "But sail, sir? For where? Not Nassau, I beg you. It's too early to tip your hand, before Mr. Wylly finishes, his secret investigation."

  "Nay, sir, 'tis far too late, I'm thinking," Alan countered, in a fever to be on his way. "But not Nassau. Good Lord, sir, I'm banned from going there, am I not? But," he concluded with a crafty smile, "I don't recall Commodore Garvey saying a blessed thing to keep me from sailing south!"

  "South, sir?" Deveaux was forced to query with a frown.

  "To put my wits together with Commander Rodgers, sir," Lewrie told him gaily. "And after that, why ... one never knows, sir!"

  Chapter 5

  Abeam the Trades, on a soldier's wind, Alacrity flew like some mythical courier, threading between Rum Cay and Watling's, and out to deep ocean, taking the outside passage nor'east of Samana Cay, a day's run of 160 nautical miles from one noon to the next When they "shot" the sun, they'd gained 72°40' west and 23°30' north.

  "Another day's run'll put us in Turks Passage, sir," Lieutenant Ballard nodded happily as he stowed his sextant away after taking noon sights.

  "Wish to God we'd done this months ago." Lewrie paced, restless and impatient. "Garvey might have relented. Whippet may no ' longer be in the Caicos."

  "He hadn't relented against us, sir, so why should he spare her before Alacrity" Ballard shrugged. "I still can't absorb the fact our commodore is up to his neck in collusion with Finney and his pirates!"

  "Money!" Lewrie snapped, scanning his masts to see if there was one more place where stuns'ls or stays'ls could be deployed that wasn't already being used. "It all boils down to money. What happens to the crews of the pirated ships, he never sees, and it's no concern of his. Even if he did sometimes wonder 'bout it, then money is a great salve to one's conscience."

  God knows when I stole that French Commissary gold in '81, it, did a power o' good for mine, Alan confessed to himself with a rueful grin.

  "Sails ho!" the mainmast lookout called from the cross-trees of the upper mast. "Deck, there! Two ships beatin' nor'west, fine on the bows!"

  "What's showing?" Ballard hallooed back in that deep, carrying voice which was a surprise for most to hear coming from such a small man.

  "Tops'ls 'bove the horizon, sir! Courses, a corner! Under all plain sail!" the answer came wailing back.

  "No one's running from pirates, then. They'd have their royals and t'gallants flying, else," Lewrie speculated. "Damme, as much as I hate to, we'll have to close 'em and speak 'em. They might be Yankee interlopers."

  "Shall we board them if they are, sir?" Ballard queried.

  Alan tried to imagine how long a delay that would be—hours, a whole day, if they had to inspect cargoes and manifests, fetched-to!

  "No, Mister Ballard, we'll close 'em, and see if they frighten off with a stern warning," he announced. "We can't spare the time!"

  "Sir!" the lookout said after skinning down a stay to the deck. "Capt'n, sir! I seen those ships afore. One's Whippet, sir. And the other's that Yankee merchantman we saved last year, the Sarah and Jane."

  "Whippet, by God!" Lewrie whooped with sudden delight. "Thankee, Lord, thankee kindly! Mister Ballard, did you hear, sir? Wear us hard on the wind, get us up to windward of 'em so we may take station on 'em as they fetch us. And get my gig down and ready."

  "Aye, aye, sir!"

  It was Whippet, shepherding the dowdy Sarah and Jane of the year before off West Caicos. As they came hull-up over the horizon and the distance between them shrank, Lewrie could make out a Yankee flag flying beneath the Red Ensign aboard Sarah and Jane as a prize. Alacrity reduced sail, and as they came abeam, hauled her wind to leeward, and rounded up a quarter-mile off Whippet's starboard side. All three vessels then fetched up into the winds, and Lewrie was in his gig and off towards Whippet before Rodgers could hoist "Captain Repair On Board."

  "Damn my eyes,
what the devil're you doin' down here, Lewrie?" Rodgers shouted, pumping his hand energetically after the salutes were done. "You'd not be poachin' in my own game park, would ya now?"

  "There's been wondrous news from Nassau, sir, so I..."

  "News from Nassau?" Rodgers gawped, getting keener. "Then you're leagues ahead o' me, Lewrie. I haven't gotten letter onefrom anybody since I fetched Turks Island! Thank God I stumbled over this Yankee clown, buyin' an' sellin', bold as brass, in Hawk's Nest Harbour, which gives me a legitimate excuse t'sail back to New Providence."

  "Aye, sir, but..." Lewrie tried to interject, but Rodgers was on one of his "tears."

  "Damme, sir, Whippet's ready t'drop her quick-work, same as the Royal George, an' sink at her moorin's," Rodgers ranted on. "Copperin' or no, she leaks like a sieve, there's a forest o' weed on her, and I suspect I'm teredo-wormed! Thank Christ, here comes an interloper for me to arrest an' take back to Admiralty Court, so I may get her into a dockyard 'fore we keel over an' go under."

  "Sir, if you would but listen to me..."

  "Well, if it ain't young Captain Lewrie!" Sarah and Jane's captain said, coming on deck to join them. "Now you're here, young sir, I trust you'll tell Commander Rodgers how I aided the Royal Navy, and let me go 'bout me innocent occasions, as you did last year, sir. I've already give him enough threats 'bout false arrest and all. But will he heed me, sir? He will not!"

  "I've noticed," Alan snapped in exasperation. "Captain Grant, I recall. Delighted to make your acquaintance again, sir. I did warn you, did I not; sir, that you should not return to Bahamian waters?"

  "I'm but a poor merchant skipper, sir, and..."

  "Later, perhaps, sir," Lewrie cut him off. "Commander Rodgers, I've abandoned my patrol area. There's news from Nassau, and we have to talk. It's urgent, sir!"

  "Signal Ballard to get underway," Rodgers nodded. "And let us go below. Mister Cargyle? Get sail on her and resume our course!"

  "Good Christ!" Rodgers sighed when Lewrie had finished. Hehad cut his hair much shorter for summer, close to the scalp as an urchin infested with lice and fleas, and he rubbed his stubble with two hands. "The bastard! The son of a bitch! No, more'n a bastard, he's a bastardly gullion! In league with Finney an' his pirates? I always wondered how he could afford that palacio of his. Damn' near good as the Governor's mansion, an' filled with fine plate an' furnishin's. A commodore won't draw more a year'n a post-captain of a 1st Rate, an' £350 or so won't cover half his expenses, high's he's been livin'. Him an' that chick-a-biddy wife o' his, that semi-ugly daughter, an' good Chaplain Townsley an' his lawful blanket're sure to be expensive to keep as well. What'd ya wager, Lewrie, he banks with Finney's private merchant bank, an' there'll be no way your Mr. Boudreau and Solicitor-General Wylly'd ever smoke him out?"