The Diamond King

by Patricia Potter

  He didn’t care about acceptance. He’d only wanted to be rid of responsibility and indulge a burning desire to avenge himself on those who had destroyed his country. But that would be difficult without funds. He would cheat and lie and gamble to achieve his goals but he could not do that with children at his heels.

  Alex sat down in a chair at a table and took out the deck of cards he’d carried during his escape from Scotland. A game of solitaire might serve to focus his thoughts. He studied the first card he laid down. The jack of spades—the black knave. He hesitated, then searched the cards for the heart queen.

  The two cards were his only links to family and country. The legend known as the Black Knave had helped him escape Scotland. And his sister had been called the heart queen by her husband, a man Alex had once hated but now respected. They had made a life together despite the aftermath of Culloden and their conflict of loyalties. He didn’t think he could ever forgive or forget the horror of Culloden.

  A knock at the door interrupted his bleak thoughts.

  Burke rose from his chair to answer it. He was acting as butler, manservant, bodyguard. He was not an elegant one. He still looked like a footpad. But there was no questioning his loyalty.

  An elegantly dressed and wigged gentleman stood at the door. Alex recognized him. They had met at a soiree hosted by a friend of Prince Charles, who had returned to Paris after hiding for months on the Isle of Skye.

  Comte Etienne de Rochemont. A gambler, he’d been told, who won and lost fortunes.

  “Monsieur Malfour?” the comte asked.

  “Aye,” Alex said. “Welcome to my rooms, such as they are.”

  The comte, a man of thirty-five years or so, took off his gloves. His hands had the pampered look of someone who had never worked with them. But his smile was warm, even as he studied the poor rooms. His gaze lingered on Burke, who looked more like what he was—a thief and murderer—then a gentleman’s gentleman.

  “I have some brandy,” Alex said. “It is better than the room would indicate. A gift from a sea captain.”

  “Smuggler, you mean.”

  Alex shrugged.

  “I have been told you once captained a ship.”

  “More than once,” Alex said. “My family had a share in a shipping business. My father wanted to make sure he would not be cheated and I took a liking to it, much to his chagrin.”

  “Where did you sail?”

  “Philadelphia. Virginia.”

  “The Caribbean?”

  “Not as a captain, but I went as first mate.”

  “How many years did you sail?”

  “One as an owner’s representative, two as first officer, and three as captain.”

  “Ever fire on another ship?”

  “No, but I practiced with cannon.”

  The comte looked disappointed. “I can find you men who have,” he said, almost to himself.

  Puzzled, Alex regarded him. “Why?”

  “What do you know about privateering, monsieur?”

  “That it can be a very dangerous profession,” Alex said dryly. “If a peace treaty comes, a privateer can be tried as a pirate, even if he’s unaware of the newfound cordiality between nations.”

  The comte grinned at him. “I had hoped you were not aware of that small problem.”

  “I’m not sure why that should concern me,” Alex said, though indeed he was beginning to understand exactly why it would concern him. Excitement stirred inside him. Still, it was wise to play the unsuspecting observer.

  “I have been told you are honorable. And have courage. Or is it, perhaps, recklessness?” the comte asked.

  “I ran from the British, if that is what you consider valor,” Alex said wryly. “As for honor, I lost that too at Culloden.”

  “You tricked them for over a year. Anyone who can elude Cumberland interests me.”

  “A forest is far different than the sea,” Alex said.

  The comte nodded. “I need funds, and privateering is the fastest way to improve a disastrous financial situation.” He paused, watching Alex, assessing him. “I have a ship. I need a captain.”

  “Why don’t you captain the ship?”

  “I am not a sailor. Neither do I like the odds of being personally involved,” his visitor said honestly. “France and England may make peace at any time. I do not want to be a fugitive from my own country. You, on the other hand, have already lost your country. Your need of funds is obvious. I also suspect you would like to meet the British on, shall we say, more equal terms.”

  The comte’s honesty was disarming. Alex suspected it was calculated to do exactly that. “And the split?” he said.

  “Forty-forty of the profits. Twenty percent goes to the French government. Your share includes the crew.”

  “Guns?”

  “Adequate.”

  “I would want to see them,” Alex said. “And I would need a crew.”

  “You can find them. There’s any number of unemployed Scottish and French sailors who would welcome a chance to earn more than a seaman’s pay. The trick is finding capable men with some sense of loyalty.”

  “And supplies?” Alex said. “You would pay for them, of course. From your share.”

  “Oui, monsieur. Does that mean you will accept my offer?”

  “I have little to lose,” Alex admitted.

  “We all have much to lose, monsieur. Life is precious.”

  Alex could have debated him on that philosophical view, but didn’t. “I also suspect you couldn’t find anyone else.”

  “That too is correct,” the comte said with a smile.

  “And how do I know that I can trust you?” Alex said.

  The comte shrugged. “You can ask your friends.”

  “I don’t have any friends.”

  “Then you can ask your fellow Scots. I am usually in need of money, but I pay my debts.”

  “How did you get the ship if you are usually in need of money?”

  “A game of chance,” the Comte de Rochemont said.

  “You could sell it.”

  “Oui, but there are other ships for sale now that the war is drawing to an end, and I would not get a good price. I would rather double or triple what a sale would bring.”

  The ship probably needed repairs before it could be sold but Alex didn’t say that. Instead, he raised an eyebrow. “Any necessary repairs would also come from your pocketbook.”

  The comte shrugged. “As much as I can afford.”

  Which probably meant very little. Still, the offer appealed to him. A chance to strike at British shipping and improve his financial position at the same time.

  It didn’t require much thought. He no longer had a country. If he ever returned to Scotland, he would be condemned as a traitor. His face and leg prevented much of a future as a gentleman. He had no family.

  “I will make a decision once I see the ship,” he said.

  The Frenchman’s face broke into a wide smile. He held out his hand. “Monsieur Malfour, or is it ‘my lord’?”

  “Will is agreeable,” Alex said. “If I agree, I do want a legally drawn contract as well as letters of marque.”

  “That will be no problem. This government has no love for the English. They continue to try to usurp us in the Americas. And the government will, of course, welcome a percentage of the prizes.” He hesitated, then added, “Please call me Etienne.”

  Alex turned to Burke. “What think you?”

  “I don’t like the sea,” the man said sullenly.

  “You didn’t like horses either, but you rode throughout the Highlands on one.”

  “Reluctantly, my—” He stopped suddenly with a sideways glance.

  “But you will come with me?”

  “Aye,” he said.

  “I have my first seaman,” Alex said cheerfully. In truth, he felt better than he had in years, despite the prospect of sailing what would probably be a wreck with outdated gunnery and an inexperienced crew and inadequate supplies.
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  For the first time in two years, he would be master of his own destiny.

  It mattered little if it ended in disaster.

  Le Havre, France

  Alex was pleased to see that the comte’s vessel was a frigate, a long, low ship that was swift in the sea. It looked as if it had once served as a warship, then had been sold and refitted as a merchantman. Most of the guns had been stripped from her, though some had been retained, probably as minimal protection against pirates.

  As a privateer, the ship needed at least twenty-eight guns capable of firing twelve- and eighteen-pound shot. This one had only fourteen guns capable of firing twelve-pound shot.

  It also needed other repairs, but on the whole looked sound, better than he’d expected. If he obtained additional guns, he could have it ready in three, maybe four weeks. Time, he knew, was vital. He would not receive his letters of marque nor be allowed to leave France if the ongoing peace talks between France and England succeeded. After that, he would take his chances of being charged as a pirate. God knew England would hang him fast enough in any event if they ever captured him.

  He looked over the remaining guns carefully. He was familiar enough with artillery, since some of the merchant ships in which he’d sailed had traveled over sea-lanes inhabited by pirates and had been lightly armed. He knew how to direct fire. He’d practiced gunnery, though he’d never been on a ship that had actually fired at an enemy.

  He knew his first acquisition had to be an experienced naval artillery officer. Then a first mate. With those two in place, they could then help him select a crew and the armor and supplies they would need.

  Etienne waited on deck as Alex prowled through the ship. Alex wondered how much his partner—if they concluded the deal—could put into the vessel. As much as he wanted the ship, he would not risk the lives of those recruited to sail it.

  Alex had always loved the sea. He had in instinct for sailing that he did not have for agriculture. There was something exhilarating about testing his skill against the sea and wind, a freedom he didn’t find on land. He wanted this. He wanted it very badly.

  He went back on the main deck where the comte was waiting.

  “You said it was adequately armed. It is not. We will need at least fourteen additional cannon.”

  Etienne shook his head. “The most I can afford is ten.”

  “Then the arrangement is off. I will not ask men to commit suicide. I do not really fancy it myself.”

  The Frenchman’s expression did not change.

  Alex waited.

  Etienne finally nodded. “I will see what I can do.” He hesitated. “There is something else, mon ami. I have learned that diamonds have been discovered in Brazil. If you take several prizes, you can use the money to then go to Brazil and purchase diamonds for very little.”

  “Very little?”

  “They are all over the country. Portugal is trying to control their production, but the natives believe the diamonds are theirs. If you can make contact with them, we can purchase them for a small piece of their real value.”

  “Diamonds? I thought they were found only in India. I know there was some news about Brazil, but then I heard the stones found there were not really diamonds.”

  “You were meant to hear that,” Etienne said. “The world was meant to hear that. It is a lie told by the diamond merchants to hold down the price. They’re being shipped to Goa in India, then sold as Indian diamonds.”

  Alex stared at him. “How—”

  “The cards, Will. A year ago, I played with a diamond merchant. He drank too much wine, and when he lost, he did not have the money to pay. He told me this instead. I have been waiting for an opportunity ever since. He said he will buy any diamonds from that country and authenticate them as coming from India.”

  “How can you believe such a story?”

  “I know when a man lies … and when he doesn’t.”

  “Why tell me now?”

  “For some reason I trust you. Perhaps because you endangered yourself to save children that are not your own. I also wanted to know if you were reckless. You are not, or you would have accepted this ship as it is.”

  Alex did not know whether to feel challenged or insulted.

  He decided to feel neither. Instead, he relished the knot of excitement that continued to grow. The thought of using British cargoes to steal Portugal’s diamonds intrigued him.

  “We can begin interviewing prospective officers on the morrow,” Alex said. “When can you have the cannon?”

  Etienne smiled. “Next week.”

  The two men returned to the inn where they were staying. Alex would then return to Paris to put his affairs in order, write his sister, and leave what money he had with the families that had taken in his children.

  His children. He had tried not to become emotionally involved with them. They were a responsibility, one last duty to the country he had loved. Nothing more. But now he knew it wasn’t true. They had gone hungry together, shivered together, eluded the British together. They’d had a courage that few men had.

  He would miss them.

  Chapter Two

  Paris, Two Weeks Later

  The farewells were even more difficult than Alex had anticipated.

  He had planned to leave at midday for Le Havre, where he would supervise the installation of the cannon and await additional supplies being shipped by barge from Paris. He hoped to sail at the week’s end.

  He had visited each of the children. The most troubling visit had been with Meg and Robin, the oldest of his small flock. The other children seemed to have been enveloped happily enough into the families of refugees. But Meg and Robin had stared at him with the eyes of the betrayed.

  “I will be back,” he’d told them.

  “We want to go with you.”

  “That is impossible,” he said. “It is too dangerous.”

  “I’m not afraid of danger,” Meg replied.

  “I did not think you were, lass. You do not have a fearful bone in your body, and I worry about that. But a privateer is no place for children. I could not concentrate, worrying about you.”

  Robin looked skeptical. “You would not have to worry about us. Ships have cabin boys far younger than me.”

  “Not my ships,” he said. He had never approved of the practice. He put a hand on Robin’s shoulder. “You need an education.”

  “You can teach us,” Robin pleaded. “And we can learn about the sea.”

  “You’ve had enough danger in your life,” he said. “Now is the time to be children.”

  “I will never be a child again,” Meg said, drawing herself up to her full eleven-year-old height.

  And she would not, he feared. Neither would Robin. But he wanted them to have a chance. He wanted them to have enough food, enough warmth, enough schooling. He wanted them to play.

  “Nay,” he said. “I will return. I swear.”

  It was not a promise he’d expected to make. But the hollowed look in their eyes, the expectancy that faded back into hopelessness had prompted it. Perhaps by the time he did return, they would be in a secure home.

  He tried not to think that he might never make it back. “I must go, and Burke, too,” he said. “I’ll bring back something very special for each of you.”

  He wanted to turn away from the pain in their faces. Leaving them hurt more than any wound he’d suffered. They had lost everyone they had loved. Everything they’d once had.

  But he could not stay, and he would not put them in danger’s way again.

  “I need you here to make sure all the others are safe,” he said. “Can you do that?”

  Meg looked indignant. “They have found homes.”

  “So have you.”

  “They do not really want us,” Robin said.

  The two had been the most difficult to place. Robin would have been a marquis, had his family’s title and estates not been ripped from him, but Meg did not come from society. She had been the daughter of a
blacksmith who had fought alongside Robin’s father; she and her mother had accompanied him to Culloden as so many families had. After her father’s death, the two had fled into the hills, and Meg’s mother had died of pneumonia in the caves several months ago.

  The lass knew little about manners although Robin’s influence had helped her speech. They were so close, though, that they refused to be separated, and that had not aided Alex in placing them with a family.

  “Etienne has agreed to visit you,” Alex said. Etienne had taken them for an outing in his carriage, and they had liked him immediately. Perhaps because they recognized the fact that he, too, was a rogue.

  Robin’s eyes looked brighter. “He can teach me to be a gambler.”

  That wasn’t what Alex had had in mind. Robin should have other opportunities. But then he himself wasn’t exactly a model. For the last year, he’d been a thief and a highwayman. “I want you to have an education,” he said. “Both of you.”

  The two exchanged looks. Alex didn’t trust that look.

  But he had to go. Burke was waiting with the horses. He stood awkwardly for a moment. He’d provided for their needs, and little more. He hadn’t wanted to get close to them; it hurt too much to lose people he loved. And it would hurt them if they lost him. They had already lost too much.

  He did not fool himself. He was embarking on a dangerous journey. Even with the letters of marque, he doubted whether he would survive a British capture. And from what Etienne had told him, the natives in Brazil could be less than friendly.

  He held back, holding out his hand to Robin in a manly farewell, then patting Meg on her shoulder.

  He tried to turn his thoughts to other business as he walked away. He and Etienne had found a first mate, Claude Torbeau, who had helped them find the cannon. He was a former French naval officer who apparently had been discharged as the war against Austria had subsided. Alex hoped it was not because of incompetency. But Claude appeared to know his cannon and he knew of seamen who would join them. Alex thought it a good sign that sailors who knew him would willingly sign with them.