Beauty looked at Aja. Aja looked at Visser. Visser looked at the floor. No one spoke, which Fallon took as a sign that they were all of the same mind and had likely already discussed the matter, leaving one of them to be the spokesman for the group. And, in fact, it was Visser who finally spoke.
“It’s like this, Nicholas,” he said, “Little Eddy made his decision to go to sea, which we all had to do at some point in our lives. He doesn’t want to go home and I, that is, we think he could stay. I mean should stay. That is if you agree, of course.”
Fallon looked at the three of them, none a parent. Of course, he wasn’t either. But he thought of Little Eddy’s mother losing her son, without so much as a goodbye, and felt a keen responsibility to her. Even more, he had to admit he didn’t want the responsibility if the boy should be hurt or, God help, die under his command. Little Eddy might be doing no more than other boys did, perhaps, but at least some of the other boys had the blessings of their parents to go to sea. Little Eddy had stowed away. There was something in Fallon that couldn’t abide taking him away from his mother.
“You are inclined to send him home, I believe,” said Beauty, looking at Fallon’s face closely. “I confess that was my first thought, as well. But Aja says he worked as hard as any man on Loire and the crew has accepted him as one of their own, so I guess I feel he’s earned the right to stay. I will support you either way, Nico. I’m glad it’s not my decision. I guess that’s why you make the two-eighths!”
They all laughed at that, even Fallon. Responsibility on a ship eventually landed on the captain’s lap, of course, else why was he the captain? Slowly the group broke up to get ready for dinner on the flagship, Fallon still at a loss as to what to do about Little Eddy.
There was nothing decided, but no decision to regret, either.
As Beauty made her way up the companionway and walked to the binnacle she wondered why Fallon was so against Little Eddy staying aboard. After all, boys ran away to sea all over the world. After Fallon had lost his mother even he… and then a thought struck her, a thought that was clear and true and so obvious she was surprised she hadn’t had it before. Fallon had no mother as a child, which must have left a scar, and he wanted to spare Little Eddy the same wound. Even a mother as imperfect as Little Eddy’s was still a mother. Fallon probably wasn’t even aware of what he was doing, or trying to do, or why he was trying to do it.
We all keep secrets from ourselves, she thought, and turned back to her duties with the ship.
That afternoon, Rascal’s gig clapped onto Avenger and the little party climbed through the channel to be welcomed by Davies, genial and gracious as always. He asked Fallon to wait a moment, however, while Beauty, Aja, Elinore, and Visser were shown below to Avenger’s great cabin.
“You smoked our friend Sir William immediately, Nicholas,” he said with a smile. “I could not but obey his request to keep his true occupation a secret from you. I hope you understand. When he’s not a businessman he works for the government but is aligned rather closely with Lord Keith who depends on him for information on French intentions in the Mediterranean. As you heard, he is a font of information on the Barbary situation, as well. I’m sorry for the deception, I am.”
“Don’t give it a thought, Harry,” said Fallon. “I agree he certainly seemed knowledgeable enough about Algiers, which was truly helpful. In that part of the world, I’m afraid I will be lost.”
Davies looked at his friend kindly. Not for the first time did he feel like they were brothers.
“If you become lost, Nicholas,” he said, “you can always be found.”
To say the dinner was a success would be to understate the evening.
The Garóns were very solicitous of Beauty, having grown close to her during her hospital stay on Antigua the previous year—had it been that long?—and since that time Señora Garón had had a baby girl. They all talked on and on, glass after glass, dish following dish until all the news was discussed and parsed and laughed at until nothing really mattered except that moment, that night with everyone together safe as houses. Paloma Campos was radiant, there was no other word for it, her black hair and brown skin seemed to gleam by candlelight, and the way she looked at Davies put Fallon in mind of his own feelings for Elinore, and several toasts were drunk to the joy of their engagement. At the last one Elinore cast a look to Fallon that said you had better be back in time for the wedding.
Only Caleb Visser seemed to hold back. Oh, he was engaged in the evening, to be sure, but he was new to the friendships. And he had to be forgiven for wondering what lay ahead, now that he had been fully acquainted with corsairs and slave markets and greedy deys. Fallon’s heart went out to him, as did everyone’s, for they had a hint of his despair, as well.
At last, the evening came to a close and they all stood on the deck saying goodbye and staring at the show of stars that seemed to have gathered just for them. It was a spectacular night, a night for fantasies and dreams. Indeed, as Fallon and Elinore climbed down into his gig to be rowed to shore and the Pegasus Inn, where Elinore and Paloma were staying, it appeared to them a hopeful sky. A lover’s sky. And the very idea set them to thinking about what the rest of the night might bring.
That evening there was a candle by the bed in the Pegasus Inn and, though the window rattled a bit from the wind, it was peaceful and warm inside Elinore’s small room. They locked the door and tried not to let the world’s troubles inside.
Elinore was provocative and insisted on undressing Fallon first, slowly. She took off each bit of his clothing, taking her time, and when she came to his trousers she unbuttoned them ever so slowly, her fingers carelessly touching him as she turned the buttons one by one. By the time she’d released the last one Fallon was mad with desire, as she knew he would be.
When he was fully undressed she stood before him and began to undress herself. As each of her garments fell away her body’s scent grew stronger and Fallon breathed her deeply, his eyes wide and alight with longing.
At last she wriggled free of the last of her undergarments and smiled a wicked smile at him, flirtatious and beckoning.
He gave into desire and put his hands on her and pulled her to him as she put her own hands in his hair. She closed her eyes and shuddered when he moved his mouth over her and then she began moving rhythmically, writhing, under his control now, the roles reversed, leaning against his face, her hunger building.
She pulled hard on his hair when at last she released, still standing, her body shaking and pulsing and vibrating uncontrollably. And then it was past; her hands relaxed in his hair and she reached for his shoulders to urge him up. She led him to the small bed by the table and there, by the light of the candle, she smiled that wicked smile again, inviting him to take her however he wanted.
THIRTY-FOUR
THE NEXT FEW DAYS WERE SPENT WOODING AND WATERING AND PROVIsioning Rascal to be ready in all respects for sea. A long time at sea, for who knew what stores they would find on the far side of the world?
Cully purchased shot from the magazine ashore to augment what Rascal had on board. Fallon had insisted on extra grapeshot for close work in case it came to that. Beauty and Aja were ashore arranging for a water hoy to come alongside and a barge to bring out beef and biscuit, Aja learning yet another aspect of command.
Fallon had turned the problem of Little Eddy over in his mind for several days and, when a packet bound for Bermuda had called at English Harbor he had made up his mind. The packet would leave for home the next morning carrying mail and a few passengers. He intended Little Eddy to be among them. The thought of a grieving mother, and his own fears for the boy’s safety, had decided him. It didn’t occur to him that there was likely something else at play, as well.
Fallon had informed Little Eddy of his decision and the boy had seemed to understand, accepting his fate with surprising stoicism. Visser and Aja seemed a bit taken aback but accepted Fallon’s decision and even offered to escort the boy to the packet.
&nb
sp; The next morning the sad little procession climbed through Rascal’s gangway and down into Fallon’s gig. It was a short row to the packet, which was bobbing idly at the quay. Beauty had asked Aja and Cully to go ashore for some last minute items from the chandlery once the packet was away. They carried a large duffel for the purpose which lay empty in the bottom of the gig.
Little Eddy waved goodbye to the ship with a brave face. The crew had all bade him farewell, sending him off with some gifts, a blanket and a tin of pudding, courtesy of the cook. All agreed he was a right shipmate. That was something to be proud of, thought Fallon, and hoped Little Eddy knew what he had earned in that praise.
Two days later, Rascal sailed out of English Harbor on the ebb and a light sea breeze. All the goodbyes had been said and, in truth, Fallon was anxious to be away. Elinore was stoic, for she had gathered herself and was resigned to his leaving and even his possible late return. There could be no knowing. She was on shore, waving, and Fallon could still smell her scent on his body, which would have made him smile if he was only leaving on an ordinary cruise. Admiral Davies was on the stern of Avenger and waved, as well. Who knew if they would ever see each other again? And then Kinis fired a single gun, which seemed to underscore the dangerousness of the cruise to Fallon, as if it needed underscoring.
Right, let’s get this done, Fallon said to himself. The longer he stayed in port the longer he would be worried about the unknown. He thought of one of Ezra Somers’ favorite Shakespeare quotes, something to the effect that a coward dies a thousand deaths, a brave man only one. It was time to be a brave man.
The course would take them northeast, making long boards against the trade winds until they could break free of them. The crew seemed delighted to be at sea and their humor was infectious, for they had all heard tales of the hidden delights of Algiers, veiled women with flashing black eyes and harems of concubines. It might all be fantasy, they knew, or it might not.
Barclay was on deck more often than not and clumsily attempted several noon sights for the first three days before clouds rolled in. Of course, he had every confidence in his dead reckoning and, beyond that, his instincts. But he was learning to use his stump and his good arm together, working as a team, and even his humor made an appearance at times.
So it was a happy ship that sailed into the Atlantic. All except for Caleb Visser, who often stood by himself at the windward railing looking apprehensively out to sea. Perhaps he was thinking of his own fantasy, of finding his father and bringing him home, of a life and a business they used to share, thought Fallon. His gold was below, the ransom he would need to buy his father’s freedom—but who knew how it would go?
Odds were, not how they thought.
Later that evening at dinner, Beauty and Fallon discussed the broad outlines of a strategy based on what little information they knew, most from Sir William’s account of the harbor fortifications in Algiers.
“Under no circumstances do I want Rascal under the harbor guns,” said Fallon. “We would have virtually no leverage in the event the negotiation doesn’t go well and we need to leave, perhaps quickly.”
“What about the little fact that we’re British citizens?” asked Beauty.
“Well, that should protect us, but Sir William’s account made me uneasy on the point,” said Fallon. “Any news of our capture would take months to get to London, I’m afraid. Diplomats would get involved, protests made and communiques sent back and forth. It might take months or even a year to settle it. Meanwhile, you’re in a harem.”
Beauty jumped at that, and Fallon burst out laughing.
“You do have a robe, I collect?” he asked, still laughing. “If not, they can—”
“Fuck that,” said Beauty, in her own inimitable way. And Fallon threw back his head and laughed some more.
A knock on the door.
“Come,” said Fallon, still chuckling at his own joke. But his smile evaporated as Aja stepped into the cabin, followed by a small boy with a grin on his face.
Little Eddy was back aboard.
“Well, I guess it was meant to be, Beauty,” said Fallon as they stood together at the binnacle the next morning. Little Eddy was in a circle of ship’s boys with Cully, who was walking them through their duties in the event the ship went into battle.
“Yes,” said Barclay, who was standing within earshot. “It’s God’s way of telling you you’re not God.”
“Only an insignificant captain, Mr. Barclay?” said Fallon with a smile.
“Your words, sir. Your words,” said Barclay as he tut-tutted off.
“I wonder how he did it, Beauty?” asked Fallon. “You and Aja got him on the packet and it weighed almost as soon as he went aboard.” He thought back over that morning, seeing in his mind Cully and Aja and Little Eddy climb down into the gig, the empty duffel lying on the floorboards, everyone with their heads down.
When they’d left, Beauty had asked to review the approaches to Algiers with Fallon below decks though he had already gone over what he knew in some detail. Consequently, he was not on deck when the gig returned from shore and the large duffel was hauled aboard Rascal.
The duffel.
It was a large duffel, he recalled, plenty big enough for a small boy to curl up inside. But that meant –
Beauty coughed under Fallon’s gaze and left to check on some task of other that needed checking on, and Aja was nowhere to be seen.
THIRTY-FIVE
THE TWO XEBECS SAILED WESTWARD FROM THE LEVANT, PUSHED ALONG by a strong breeze from the south. Spring was coming sooner than usual to the Mediterranean and the two reis could feel it in the warm wind on their cheeks. That was both good and bad, for spring meant there was the possibility of early siroccos to worry about, that dry wind that came from the Sahara, sometimes carrying sand, sometimes at hurricane force, sometimes both.
Hasim Reis stood on the deck of his xebec, a re-capture from the Spanish named Ruse, appropriately named as it turned out, for Hasim was nothing if not clever. The other xebec’s reis was named Rogers, a British renegade turned corsair who fled to Algiers and converted to Islam. It was that or be hung in Great Britain as a pirate. His xebec, Gazelle, was built in Algiers, captured by the French, and re-captured by Rogers in a pitched battle near Tunis.
There were a surprising number of European renegade pirates in Zabana’s little navy. Some had been Royal Navy officers at one time who jumped ship for the better pay of a corsair captain, but there were Spanish, Dutch, French, and even Venetian captains, as well. All professed their devotion to Islam but what they really loved was gold, and the dey was generous when they captured Christians for the slave market.
Hasim and Rogers had sailed their ships in tandem before, but were only moderately successful and frequently provoked Zabana’s ire as a result. On this cruise they had captured only two fishing boats near Cairo, netting six slaves. They had sunk the boats, along with their catch, because they really had no value. At last, low on food and water, they had sailed for their home port of Algiers.
Rascal plunged to the northeast on starboard tack, sailing close-hauled against the trades. With luck, they would reach Algiers in twenty sailing days, barring a turn in the weather which could leave them hove-to for days. Rascal sailed under full topsails and made all the distance she could, while she could.
At the end of the first week out of Antigua the routine of a ship at sea had taken hold firmly and the watches changed with monotonous regularity. A keen ear could gauge the strength of the wind by its octave in the ship’s rigging. Flying fish were constant companions and each morning the deck was littered with flapping, silver bodies which had unwittingly flung themselves aboard in the night. These were cooked for breakfast, for some sailors would eat them, though not every sailor would eat fish. Then the deck was scraped of the scales and salt and Cully would exercise the gun crews or teach the youngsters the theory of gunnery.
The morning of the tenth day at sea found Fallon stepping over flying fish on the
windward side of the ship to get some morning exercise. Barclay and Aja had gotten a tolerable noon sight the day before and thus there should have been nothing to trouble the captain. In fact, Fallon was remarkably calm considering he was going somewhere he’d never been to do something he’d never done. Well, as Fallon’s father would say, that never bothered you before.
Finished with his walk, he leaned against the foremast and looked forward. Somewhere out there was Africa. He couldn’t see it, of course, but in his mind a picture had formed of what he would find there. It was exotic and mysterious and dangerous from a distance. And maybe up close, he admitted.
“Captain, sir,” said Aja, appearing at his side and interrupting his picture-making, “I have been thinking of Barbary people. I think they must be very strange to see.”
“Yes, I suppose they dress and talk differently from us,” agreed Fallon. “And their ships are different, of course.”
“Are the people different inside?”
Fallon thought about this a moment, surprised and curious that Aja had asked the question and wondering exactly what he meant. Surely Algerian mothers and fathers loved their children. Surely they sat around their tables at night and told them stories that made their eyes go wide. Surely those children grew up and fell in love, to start the cycle all over again. But on the other side of the coin, Muslims bought and sold men, women, and children into slavery. They committed unspeakable acts of cruelty towards others based on righteousness and religion and greed. They robbed and murdered and plundered and kept slaves and made war on other nations.
“I think,” said Fallon upon reflection, “they’re more like us than we know.”
The trip along the Mediterranean coast was uneventful, though both Hasim and Rogers kept a close eye on their provisions, which were dwindling fast. The slaves at the oars rowed mostly in the lulls, which was not often as the warm wind came reliably across the desert and pushed their ships along fast enough. The janissaries were bored, the crews were dispirited and all agreed the voyage was mostly a failure.
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