The Gun Ketch (37 page)

"Being shrewd doesn't mean he isn't guilty, sir," Lewrie said. "The book, sir. How did he come by that, if..."

"Be quiet, you silly clown! 'Twas you and your first officer who brewed this case out of thin air, then laid it at this fool's feet and convinced him he was onto something. And all for jealousy, sir! Because you were jealous, I ask you!"

"Sir!" Lewrie goggled."The whole town knows Finney was spooning 'round your little 'batter-pudding,' Lewrie," Garvey scoffed. "And you didn't like it, did you?" Garvey accused, dropping into a nursery-room singsong. "You didn't have the nutmegs to warn him off as a man should, so you plotted a way to confound a rival in your wife's affections by naming him a confederate of pirates. Was he simply
too
handsome for your peace of mind, sir? Too fearsome an opponent to confront man to man, hey? Too fierce a foe to call out? Or would his hanging on false charges make you feel more sanguine about your wife while you were at sea, sir?"

"Damme, sir, that is
patently
unfair!" Alan exploded. "And you cast foul aspersions upon my wife's good name and morals for no good reason, sir! If you do have any allegations about her, I demand you say them straight out now, or never, sir! You may be my superior officer, but that doesn't give you the right to demean her, sir!"

"Oh, Christ," Alan heard Rodgers grunt under his breath. "I
am
your commanding officer, you insubordinate dog!" Garvey howled, jowls flapping. "You do not shout at me, sir, nor will you use foul language in any address to me! And I'll cast any aspersion I please! An officer junior as you has no business marrying in the first instance, nor in fetching his mort out to a foreign station for his comfort and pleasure in the second. She has affected your skills as a Sea Officer, prejudiced your administering of King's Justice, so unwitted you that you laid false charges against a man for revenge for some slight. Perhaps it might be best if you resign your command and commission, and take both her and you home. Failing that, put her on a ship, leaving you to concentrate on the salvation of what is left of your career."

"Sir, that goes beyond what a commanding officer may order any subordinate to do," Rodgers protested at once. "An officer's personal life does not fall under your regulation, sir. And I cannot believe that I have heard a superior officer use his office to slander a fine and blameless young lady in such a callous fashion."

Alan could not speak, and thanked God for Rodgers' courage. There was a humming in his ears, a red mist before his eyes, and the room swam about him. He had never been so angry, nor so impotent to act. Should he speak for himself, he would explode,' and damn every consequence. Should he even move, his first action would be to draw his hanger and run Garvey through!

"Believe what you will, Rodgers," Garvey barked. "What, Lewrie? No fine words? Cat got your tongue at last, hey?"

"I have no doubts at all concerning my wife, sir, and I bitterly resent
your
words about her, sir," Alan managed to drag out between clenched jaws. "Finney traffics in stolen goods, sir. We had a case. Not the tightest case, it turns out. But the truth was told, sir. I stand by my allegations. I stand by my wife, and I resent..."

"Truth! My God ..." Garvey hooted, checking himself as he almost blasphemed himself. "You make me want to spew, the two of you! There'll be a Court of Inquiry into your actions, sirs. There'll be civil charges laid by Finney to recoup lost goods and incomes. Your truth is a pack of fabulist slanders, and he'll most likely sue you both for that, too! Until any or all of those courts convene, you're to make yourselves scarce as hen's teeth. Out of my sight so I am not tempted to relieve you of your commands and break you!"

"And will you schedule the Court of Inquiry preceding the civil suits, sir?" Rodgers demanded. "Would that not be prejudicial should I be found...
?"

"Should have considered the consequences before you acted, sir," Garvey almost snickered. "You serve, and you will now wait, pending
my
pleasure and convenience. Commander Rodgers, 'tis coming up on whale season, did you know that?"

"Sir?"

"And salt-raking will soon commence, with hotter sunshine down south. You will sail this evening, sir, making the best of your way, and relieve
Aemilia
as station-ship in the Turks."

"Sir, I draw two fathoms," Rodgers protested. "I couldn't sail a tenth of my patrol area down yonder!"

"Purchase a lugger or two from the fishermen, then, to act as tenders to
Whippet"
Garvey shrugged, sitting down at last in a fine leather desk chair. "Perhaps Lieutenant Coltrop has one already."

"Out of Admiralty funds, sir?" Rodgers asked, suspiciously.

"Your stupidity
leaves
me with no Admiralty funds, Rodgers. I leave it to you to deal with out of your own purse if you wish to perform your duties... 'as best you see it' "

"Aye, aye, sir."

"And you, Lewrie," Garvey simpered. "You're going south, too. Long Island, Cat, Rum Cay, Conception and Watling's will be your area. Should I even hear a
rumour
of your tops'Is being seen north of Flamingo Point on Cat Island until I send for you, I'll have you cashiered for mutiny and desertion, sir."

"Aye, aye, sir," Alan nodded, too numb to grasp.

"Now, my fine turd-barge captains," Garvey glowered, "get out of my sight. Get out of my harbor, and stay out! And, should I getword you've done something else so abysmally chuckleheaded again, I promise I will have no mercy upon you. Go. Go!" Garvey concluded, shooing them away with a languid wave of his hand as if flitting off flies.

"Mine arse on a bandbox!" Alan fumed once they had reached the streets. "How
dare
he!" he hissed, close to tears of impotent rage. "He had no right! No right at all!"

"No, he doesn't," Rodgers groaned as they plodded heavily downhill towards Bay Street. "And if Caroline sails, will
his
wife, his daughter, or his sister and her dominee husband sail with her, hey?"

"Can he force her to leave?" Alan asked fearfully.

"No, he cannot, and he knows it. Damme, what a bloody mess! Damn the court, damn the panel, damn our timid mouse of a prosecutor... damn the very law! We
know
Finney's guilty, but he's got clean away with it. And he'll keep on gettin' away with it, now. He ought to be swingin' in a noose, but he's a hero all over again, damn his blood!"

"And the next time, it'll be one of Garvey's anointed who lets him get away with murder. Damn the man! Damn him to hell! I never knew a senior officer so...!" Lewrie raged. "The bastard!"

"He was wrong, wasn't he?" Rodgers was forced to ask after a long minute or two of silence as they plodded along despondently. "What Garvey said about you dislikin' Finney so much you might have ... about you bein' nettled by his attentions towards your wife?"

"He'd sent invitations to his functions. Acted overly familiar in public at -dos' they attended separately," Alan replied, as calmly as he could. "It was being handled, quietly. The man's dense, and a boor. But I was a long way from fronting him, or calling him out about it, sir," Lewrie lied.

"And your dislike didn't prejudice you when you...
?"

"Not at all, sir. Oh, I admit to being
most
pleasantly surprised to see him implicated, but we had real evidence. I invented not one whit of it, sir. Arthur Ballard came up with most of it, and he's unaware of the situation, so he was as objective as anyone would wish. He's damned clever, sir, and would have dissuaded us if he didn't deem our case plausible. Look at the consequences, sir! I knew them going in, and the court warned us, too. No matter how much I might detest a man, I'd not risk all we face now to vent my spleen. Even
I'm
not that stupid, sir! I still don't understand it. If the prosecutor thought it was too weak to present, and he feared losing so much, then why did he end up taking it to court? Why are we not being sued right now for damages, instead? I mean to say... the charges against Finney should have been dropped, and then he'd have turned around and sued us over his losses, if he had a mind to."

"I don't know," Rodgers sighed. "And I wish to God I'd never heard of 'Calico Jack,' or
Guineaman,
or Walker's Cay. Damme, he'll have my last ha'penny 'fore he's through with me."

"Mine, too," Lewrie commiserated.

"No, you acted under my orders, Lewrie. It's my burden to bear from now on. At my Court of Inquiry they'll call you as a witness, no more. And thankfully, none of Commodore Garvey's vile assertions about our motives will see the light of day."

"Damn him, if he starts slandering her in society, I'll call him out, damme if I won't, the Articles of War bedamned!" Lewrie vowed.

They passed in front of a popular tavern as they turned the corner to Bay Street. Several boos and catcalls from within followed them, along with a few gnawed rib bones, as the patrons jeered them.

"Damme, I'm a King's Officer, how dare they?" Rodgers erupted.

"Captain Tom of the Mob, sir," Lewrie said, restraining him. "I fear we'll have to put up with it for awhile. Bad as any sauceboxes in London when it comes to putting down their betters when they're caught out. Best we ignore 'em before they summon a real mob and we end up 'de-Witted' like that Dutchman got torn apart in 1672."

"They wouldn't dare!" Rodgers huffed, but allowed himself to be put back in motion, and led at a slightly quicker pace away from their detractors.

"The mob, sir? They'd dare anything, until the garrison has to be called out and the Riot Act read. And we don't want that."

"S'pose not," Rodgers allowed. "Well, if I'm to sail this evening, I'd best go aboard ship now."

"You will not dine with me and Caroline, sir? Bring Betty along for a last supper?"

"Uhm, Betty ... hmm," Rodgers blushed. "Tell ya the truth now, Lewrie, I'm not the marryin' sort, like yourself. And your Caroline's corrupted Betty Mustin somethin' awful lately. Put ideas in her pate 'bout wedded buss an' vine-covered cottages such as yours, ah..."

"Should I give her your respects, at least, then, sir?"

"Hmm. Best not," Rodgers frowned. "I've sent her a note. Andi I'm off for the Turks for a long spell, it seems, so this might be the best thing, in the long run, don't ya know."

"I see, sir," Alan nodded sadly.

"Ah, Mister Chatsworth. Mistress Chatsworth," Rodgers said as he doffed his cocked hat to salute a couple of his acquaintance, and Alan did the same, recognizing them from several salons. "Delight..."

"Hmmph!" that worthy said as he turned his head away to deliver the "cut-direct." His wife, made of sterner stuff, actually turned her gaze heavenward and out to sea, the "cut-sublime," and nudged her man in the ribs to steer them to the opposite side of the street!

"Well, shit!" Rodgers spat in bruised wonder. "Only to be expected, sir," Lewrie sighed heavily. Damme, that irks, though, he thought! "Shopping at Finney's are you, Mister Chatsworth?" Lewrie could not help calling after them. "Mixing your wine with the blood of poor murdered sailormen, are you? They've a fine special on cutlasses and pistols. Just the thing for carving your Sunday roast, madam! Or for making Mister Chatsworth walk the plank!"

"Lewrie, for God's sake!" Rodgers flushed, half outraged, yet more than half amused. "Does nothing repress you; sir?"

"I'm minded of your earlier statement, sir, about this being a funny world, but no one laughs about it. Thought I'd try humour on, just to see what happens, 'cause I can't imagine things getting worse. Shall I see you to the dock and into your boat, sir?"

"Thankee, Captain Lewrie, I'd admire that. Might consider you row out with me, then over to
Alacrity.
Then take your own gig t'land on that beach just b'fore your house, 'stead o' takin' the road home. Never know what
our fine
citizens hereabouts might think up."

"Aye, sir, I'll do that very thing," Lewrie agreed. "Share a bottle o' champagne with me, 'fore you go?"

"I'd best not, sir," Lewrie decided. "Caroline'll be worried."

"Pity, 'tis a damn' good year," Rodgers chuckled. "I've twenty dozen stored in my lazarette. Ought to hold me for four months, do I ration m'self close. An' they'll be an absolute delight t'drink, for they came from Finney's stash on Walker's Cay, don't ya know."

"Damned
good,
sir. Take joy of them!" Alan brightened. "He
is
a pirate, Lewrie," Rodgers spat, sobering. "And someday we'll prove it, proper. Garvey's wrong, ya know. The Crown won't make good his losses. They were unbonded, undutied goods. Just the same as smuggled! The mob may think it was knacky, but the Court'll think it just shy o' criminal. And I surely can't. And won't! Should the judgment go against me, I'd abscond to Havana 'fore he gets a single' farthin'. We hurt him where it hurts him the most, Lewrie! Thousands and thousands o' pounds o' goods, gone up in smoke! Might stretch him sore. Make him desperate. And should one o' his ships cross my hawse, why then I'll hurt him all over again!"

"Darling, I'm so very sorry things turned out as they have," Caroline attempted to console him. For a final evening before sailing, it was a horrible occasion. Betty Mustin had gotten Rodgers' note which severed their relationship and ended his financial support, so she'd run to Caroline's for comfort, and was weeping disconsolately on one of their settees, a noisy, unlooked for intruder.