THE GUN KETCH l-5

by Dewey Lambdin

  "A clever fellow, too, this Finney," Alan smiled.

  "Well, 'twas more Andrew's idea than Finney's, of course. Our 'Calico Jack' is shrewd, and ambitious. But I doubt he'd have thought of it on his own, don't you know. Or cared much one way or t'other if the Spanish held Nassau another year. He'd have made more profit from taking their ships, whilst his store sold them victuals and wine!"

  " 'Calico Jack'?" Alan grinned with mirth. "And how did he come by that charming sobriquet? Wasn't there a Calico Jack Rackham, a pirate, in these waters long ago?"

  "There was," Peyton sneered aristocratically. "Finney came by his by the tradesman's entrance, so to speak. And more prosaic. More common, haw haw."

  Peyton Boudreau and his wife Heloise were splendid people in the main, though given to languid, highly cultured and snobbish, aloof airs of fallen Huguenot and Charleston Low Country nobility. No matter that their estate had fallen since leaving fabled South Carolina, they were still accounted regal pluses to Nassau society. And told damned juicy gossip with such wit and relish!

  "Wasn't always rich, y'know," Peyton continued. "Had but the one packet ship, and a used-goods chandlery past East Hill Street, almost in 'Over-Hill.' Inn, chandlery, an 'all-nations' dram shop. Brokered whores out of there, too, by all accounts. Sold slop-goods and shoddy not fit for anyone but slaves and the idle poor. Little of this, then a little of that, to show a profit. Had mongers out with drays hawking his castoffs like ragpickers. But he did the best of his business in calico and nankeen cloth for use on the plantings to dress slave gangs. Condemned salt-meats, weevily flour, gin, rum and ratafia brandy, that sort of hard bargain, hand-to-mouth trade," Peyton dismissed, raising a cultured eyebrow significantly. "Then in '75, when the Revolution broke out, everything changed for him overnight. The Admiralty Court gave him a Letter of Marque to turn privateer, and the next thing anyone knew, he was tea-trade, nabob-rich."

  "A most impressive feat," Alan had to admit, though it galled.

  "For a man who started out illiterate in the gutter," Boudreau sniffed top-loftily. "By the time Heloise and I got here in '82 when the Crown abandoned Charleston, he was strutting golden as an Ottoman sultan, with that big snip's chandlery, his fancy-goods shops on Bay Street, and half a dozen privateers flying his house flag. But, don't y'know," Peyton snickered, "the brats in the streets still tailed after him chanting his cant, 'Calico, calico, who'll buy my calico! Tis Jack, Jack, the Calico Man,' haw haw!"

  "Oh, poor bastard!" Lewrie smiled, relishing what chagrin that would have caused the handsome Finney.

  "Then, of course," Peyton sobered, "that was before he killed three men in duels for ragging him or sneering at him. And after he and Andrew Deveaux retook Nassau, he became a veritable social lion. For a time, mind," Peyton chuckled meanly. "Only for a time. One may not turn a sow's ear into a silk purse, after all. For all his fame and his money, he's still 'Beau-Trap' and too ill mannered for most decent people. No manners at all, though he's said to work hard at gaining some small measure of refinement. Built his fine town house, hired dancing-masters, tutors in elocution, only the best tailors and such. 'Moik me a foin gennulmun, damn yuz oyes!' he told 'em, hey?" Peyton scoffed, cruelly imitating a bogtrotter's brogue. "One may gild dried dung, but all one has to show for it is gold-plated shit, after all. And, he's still tight with his old chums from 'Over-Hill.' Niggers, scoundrels, shiftless whites and whores, pickpockets, cut-throats and such. And he is Irish, when you come right down to it."

  "He seems welcome in everyone's salon, though," Alan commented. "And people seem to accept his invitations willingly enough."

  "That's the 'fly' nature of Bahamian society," Peyton guffawed. "How few of them arose from the better classes? In Charleston, in London it goes without saying, and I suspect even in his native Dublin, in the better circles, John Finney'd still not be admitted but to the tradesman's entrance. There's damned few refined folk'd set foot inside his door. We do not. Nor do those who aspire to true civility ever invite him. In like manner, he has never seen my parlor, our salon, sir! Nor shall he," Peyton declaimed grandly, then cocked his grizzled head to peer closely at Alan. "And why this sudden interest, young sir?"

  "He has irked me by showing an undue interest in Caroline."

  "Ah, I see" Peyton drawled out. "Yes, she did once receive an invitation to some affair he was hosting. Thankfully, she told us of it before she responded, and we were able to discover to her what one may mention in polite company of his background, which discovery dissuaded her from attending, God be praised."

  "Truly," Alan flushed, embarrassed that the truth was out.

  "Sir… Alan," Peyton said kindly, "Heloise and I are that taken with your lovely Caroline. She is a most handsome girl, and a most intelligent and discerning one, in addition to her sweet and modest nature. Since you and she became our tenants, she has been like one of our own daughters to us. She most sensibly inquired of us the usual things. Where best to shop, where best for bargains and such. And, more importantly, which places best avoided. And, which people to avoid, so no breath of scandal ever taints your good name, or soils her, dare I say, immaculate repute. Unlike some I could name to you."

  "Yet he seems to be everywhere we go, sir," Alan complained. "And he is so gracelessly… impertinent. And persistent!"

  "You may not avoid him totally, since our society here is so small a circle, even with the influx of Loyalists by the hundreds," Peyton counseled. "Finney rose from the gutter by dint of dogged and slavish persistence, so one would suppose he believes anything will come to him, if he but perseveres. Still, he knows his place, deny it though he will."

  "If he does persist, Mister Boudreau, I'll have to call him out for it," Alan frowned.

  "Lord, no, Alan, I beg you!" the older man shuddered. "Do not duel him! He's a crack shot, and chopping fair with a sword."

  "So am I, sir," Alan insisted, then blurted out his fears in spite of his best intentions. "If not Finney, then one of the other sparks who flock 'round her like so many importunate…" he tangled his tongue on his bile.

  "Ah, the rest are but amusing themselves, playing the gallant and serving 'Jack-Sauce,'" Peyton dismissed with a chuckle. "Lookee here, young sir. Duck your head and cool your blood, and I'll tell you a tale that'll set your unease to rest, damme'f I won't!"

  Lewrie ducked and came up blowing and snorting.

  "When Heloise and I were first wed," Peyton Boudreau began his tale with a grin of reverie, "I was that jealous of her. That's the curse one takes upon oneself when one weds an incredibly lovely and desirable lady. As you did. I could not abide the attention all of her old beaus showed her, nor begrudge her time or her laughter they took from me. Now, had she been nothing but handsome,with no bottom or sense, filled with frippishness and flirtations… or more so than Charleston society permitted young ladies… I'd have slain a few of the bastards. Or died because of it. And lost our last twenty years of wedded bliss. Mind you," Peyton cautioned, tapping his nose and winking, "it ain't all custard and cream, no paradise on silver plate. No marriage is. New marriages even less so, before one becomes accustomed. But, women are not the empty-headed, fragile and vulnerable vessels, not as false a tribe, as the 'Mar-Text' reverends tell us."

  "You've a level-headed lady, lad. Have some faith in her good judgment, in her sense of propriety. Caroline's not the sort to do anything, or allow anything or anyone to give you pause. 'Tis all in your head. The more one loves, the more intruders seem threatening. And, believe this when I relate it to you, the girl loves you with a single-minded devotion I could toast bread on! Your name, or tales about you, form half her waking conversation! I doubt she could sew a hem in a drape without thinking of how you would approve of it!"

  "Thankee, Mister Boudreau, sir," Alan sagged in some measure of relief. " 'Tis gratifying to hear. But what dissuaded you from dueling those former rivals of your wife?"

  "A long talk with a sage old uncle of mine, much like this."

  "And did it he
lp you, sir?"

  "Not immediately, young sir," Peyton allowed with a rueful grin. "That came gradual. As does wisdom. But I did take a long look at it and discovered that Heloise would allow no gallantries or importunate addresses beyond a very firm boundary, and would give the rogues who crossed that boundary the 'cut-direct' the next time she saw them. I learned to trust her. A hard lesson, I'll admit. But, once learned, I became even fonder of her than ever before." "Fortunately for you, though, sir," Alan sighed, "you had none to deal with but gentlemen… who could take a hint. You had no Finney dogging your Heloise."

  "Watch and see if your Caroline cannot put even a thick-skull Irish rogue in his place if he persists," Peyton laughed. "And to the galling scorn even of Bahamian society, haw haw! Trust her to handle herself, Alan. And I will give you assurance that Heloise and I will continue to chaperone and advise her, so you will have ' nought to give you worry when you sail the next time."

  I may be dense as bloody marble most of the time, Alan thought, but even I can recognize good sense when I trip over it! "I will remember that, sir, and be damned grateful to you and your good lady for it," Alan enthused at last, taking Boudreau's hand and pumping it warmly. "I feared to leave her in Portsmouth without someone to count on. I'm happy to have found good friends here that we may both trust."

  "You have indeed, young sir," Peyton smiled, "you have. Well, all this sun has me parched. There's a bottle of ale with my name on't that'd go down nice. Damme'f I ain't a touch peckish, too. You?"

  "Your servant and mine have something succulent on the boil to tempt me, I must allow, sir," Alan said, wading ashore in a ragged set of breeches to towel off and don a patched old shirt without sleeves.

  "Conch chowder. The very thing!" Peyton exclaimed. "Lobsters thick as your arm! Let us join the ladies. I see they've come ashore like so many fair daughters of Neptune, haw haw! The lovely Heloise, the superbly handsome and lissome Caroline! The bounteous, charming Betty! Poor chick." He sobered.

  "Sir?" Alan asked as they trudged along the hard-packed sand.

  "Betty's a sweet'un, near as sweet as your Caroline, d'you see. A trifle headlong in her enthusiasms, and her affections, though, to her cost. A bit too much the hearty coquette, but she has bottom," Peyton assayed. "If not the sense God promised a titmouse."

  "I find her a bit forward and… frippish," Alan said. "Not the best company for Caroline. As a constant companion, that is."

  "In point of fact, 'tis your Caroline who's been very good for Betty," Boudreau countered. "Family scattered hell-to-breakfast, one side Rebel, t'other Tory. Her father's over on Great Abaco, farming and timbering. She ran away with that irresponsible Rodgers and let him set her up here as his hired doxy. For lovel Had she a man who would give her a decent promise of marriage, had she some sense of security in his affection, well, she'd be happy as a kitten in the cream pot! But, he's a slender reed, is Benjamin Rodgers, so she's allowed certain young rogues and Corinthians address her and squire her about on rides, at balls and such, to fill his absences. To make him pay more attention to her when he is in port. And we both know that Rodgers' sort of rake-hell never responds to such ploys with anything other than scorn. He'd simply find another, and turf her out to fall further."

  I do know that sort of rakehell, Alan thought wryly. Damned well, do I know me of old!

  "But, with Caroline, and her eminent good sense to guide her, she's mending her ways," Peyton allowed. "Even turned her hands now and again to gardening and household economies, though I fear she'll never be a tenth part the wonder your lady is.No, don't begrudge Caroline her friend, Alan. Heloise and I quite like her. Just wish she had a better man, one she could trust, one who'd show her the sort of real affection and attention she craves. Do you not know some other naval officers who might wish to meet an attractive young lady, Alan? That sobersided lieutenant of yours, Ballard?"

  "I doubt he wishes to marry so early in his career, sir."

  "Well, if not marriage, she could be mistress to a better fellow than Commander Rodgers," Peyton suggested. "She could have someone decent to pine for when he's away. She has some means to keep herself, so she wouldn't be a burden on a junior officer's purse. Do give it a thought. Heloise and I would appreciate it."

  "I shall, sir."

  "Act more pleasantly disposed towards Betty, too, will you?"

  "Have I not been pleasant, sir?" Alan inquired, a little irked that Peyton Boudreau, once he had gotten the slightest status as his and Caroline's Dutch uncle, was now ready to play "avuncular" to the hilt!

  Damme, you wish to adopt us, Alan thought? Play my father's replacement, you'll have to stand me an hundred guineas a year!

  "I have seen some snippishness, Alan," the older man shrugged. "After all, she's not Calico Jack, for God's sake. Caroline dotes on her. If you trust Caroline's good sense and discernment, surely you can be accepting. Betty needs good friends worth having."

  "Aye, I suppose so, Mister Boudreau," Alan found himself agreeing. "I suppose I may even come to tolerate Calico Jack Fin-ney, if I follow your advice, and allow Caroline to pull him up short."

  "Well, you won't see much of him, now the trial's evidence is common knowledge," Peyton assured him as they neared the campsite. "Lying doggo for awhile, I'm certain, now word is out your pirate leader was Billy 'Bones' Doyle. Might be in mourning, far's I know, haw haw!"

  "They were compatriots?" Alan started.

  "Oh, Billy Doyle was a mate of his, long before the war. And master of one of his privateers," Boudreau replied breezily, as if it were no matter. "After the war, Finney sold off half his ships and got replacements more suited for trade. Paid half his men off, too. Gave Doyle title to a schooner, in gratitude, along with ten thousand pounds sterling profit! A splendid gesture. Doyle was along with Finney and Deveaux on the expedition to retake New Providence, don't y'know. He…"

  "No, sir, I did not know that. It is news to me," Lewrie said. "And no one commented upon the connection? No one even wondered…"

  "And why should they, after they parted company a year ago?" Boudreau sniffed. "With Bahamian society riddled as it is with former pirates and privateers, former cut-throats, and merchants greedy as highwaymen, what's one more knave with a scandal?"

  "Amazing," Lewrie goggled.

  "Oh, Doyle and Finney were thick as thieves at one time. Haw, haw, thick as thieves, do y'see, sir? I would suppose he dropped him once he'd wasted his money, and his chances to better himself. Quite the cock-of-the-company for awhile, was Billy Bones. But he spent it all on drink and whores, on flash clothes and gay amusements. And some disastrous investments whenever he drew a sober breath. Now I ask you, how may a man lose his last farthing in a market so brisk as the Bahamas, were he not a total fool, sir? Made a sorry, surly, besotted spectacle of himself in the end, and sailed off to God knew where to escape his creditors. For which respite the good people of Nassau thanked God, I tell you!" Boudreau related with glee. "Just goes to prove the lower orders haven't the wherewithal to improve their lot, to emulate their betters, no matter that the opportunity to do so falls from on high like manna, and is beaconed by a burning bush, haw haw!"

  "So the schooner I captured at Conch Bar wasn't a recent prize he'd taken," Lewrie realized. "She was the one Finney gave him."

  "Very likely, indeed. Bound to come to a bad end, that sort. Illiterate guttersnipes and mongrels! No matter how high they assay to rise, they always revert to their sorry roots when they fall upon hard times. Back to the criminal habits they learned in their stews! And to be rewarded for criminality in wartime, given stamps of approval, letters of marque, and praised for looting enemy ships! Tosh, I say, sir! What else may one expect, I ask you!"

  "Or become a royal governor, like Morgan. Or Woodes Rogers," Alan commented with a wry grin. "They both sailed under the 'Jolly Roger,' Mister Boudreau."

  "Well, they were successful pirates," Boudreau dismissed with a leer. "And turned on their own kind in the end. Ah, ladies, may we join y
ou for our repast, now you're decent, haw haw?"

  Chapter 3

  Alacrity would be sailing soon, and Lewrie needed to replenish his personal stores for his pantry and wine cabinet. Leaving Caroline after breakfast, he borrowed a horse and cantered to town. And, out of prurient curiosity, he wandered into Finney's.

  There was an entire row of shops for clothing, for shoes, for ladies' fashions and fabrics, with the latest miniature gowns on the porcelain dolls sent from Paris and London depicting the height of that season's styles and colors. There were cheese shops, spirits stores awash in wines, brandies, harsh whiskeys, gins, and liqueurs of a dozen nations. Finney had furniture for sale, wallpapers and chintz for drapes or recovering; kitchen wares from America and home, fine china and silver services, glassware from utilitarian to finest crystal pieces. One entire block of Bay Street on the southern side, and around the corner of Market Street for half of another block was his so-called mart, his commercial fiefdom.

  Though he rued giving Finney any of his trade, or any of his money, he did find good prices on quality merchandise, and ended up purchasing stationery and ink, various cheeses and meat sauces, and several interesting books to fill his solitary hours, some with the pages already cut by a previous owner, though offered as new.

  Alan opened one of the books and found it dog-eared on several pages. It was a recent English translation of a French novel he had heard about, Les Liaisons Dangereuses by some Frog scribbler named de Laclos. The dog-eared pages contained scenes of a most pleasing and salacious nature, which made Alan smile, even as he winced at the chalked-on price of six shillings. Thumbing further through it, he discovered an inscription in the frontispiece.

  "From Daniel,

  To his scamp of a brother Nathan. May this inspire you aboard Matilda on your next Voyage! May her New 1st Mate have similar Joy of the swarthy Bahamian ladies!"

  Wonder if he did, Alan thought with amusement. And did he have to sell it to pay for the Mercury Cure to rid himself of the pox those Bahamian "ladies" gave him?