The Pyrates

by George MacDonald Fraser

  “Ah, nay!” cried Vanity, in the Frog's fevered grasp. “Spare him!”

  “Not a chance!” roared the French pirates, closing on Blood, brandishing their cutlasses. “Regardez, Paddy, here it comes!”

  “Ah, the hell wi' ye!” cried Blood. “College Mooney for ever!” And he hurled his back to the bulkhead, thrusting deep into the chest of an assailant, preparing to take their steel in his turn, and die (he reflected) in unexpectedly gallant fashion, defending Beauty from the powers of darkness. Then the timbers at his back seemed to give way, rotten boards crumbled about him, and he stumbled back and fell on a cold, half-yielding surface that clanked and slithered most strangely beneath him. His rapier, jarred from his hand, tinkled away, and with yells of amazement his attackers stopped dead, staring in disbelief at what they saw. Happy Dan, with Vanity half-swooning in his grasp, thrust through them and halted gaping at the sight which confronted him in the flickering lamplight.

  Crashing through the rotten bulkhead, Colonel Blood had fallen back into a secret cell deep in the bowels of the Frantic Frog. He was floundering helplessly on its contents – a great shimmering, shifting heap of gold coin in which, as he staggered to his feet, he was buried above the knees.

  Hidden treasure, by the powers! And about time, too, says you, and right ye are. And if its discovery has come about without the usual aids of faded maps in spidery writing and skeleton signposts pointing to “Ye Treasure Pitte”, don't worry – its disposal will be bizarre enough to satisfy the most traditional taste. Let's leave Blood wallowing in it, while Vanity presses fearful knuckles to apprehensive teeth and Happy Dan's crew go into hysterics, and haste us back to Cartagena, where things ought to be hotting up nicely.

  CHAPTER

  THE TWELFTH

  elvet night shed its peace o'er the Viceregal Palace. The great ballroom lay deserted, naught remained of Xavier Cugat and his Orchestra save a faint aroma of hair-oil and a solitary shattered maraca, pale moonlight shone through archways on empty corridors and silent stairways, continental breakfast orders hung outside bedroom doors, and even the mice were lapping it up in their nests. It can't last, though; soon no one will be getting a wink of sleep, for e'en now a fracas is breaking out in the wine-cellar, with muffled oaths and blows and excited cries in Spanish, and the unmistakable noises of people wrestling in yellow Chartreuse. Follows dread silence, and presently a thin, distant wail of agony; and now the footsteps of a female in drag running in frantic haste as a pale figure flits through the guest wing, sobbing in terror …

  Avery awoke to sounds of scratching at his chamber door, and sprang nimbly from his pit, teeth clenched and eyes blazing – had he or had he not put out a Do Not Disturb notice, and here they were wanting to make up the room at 4 a.m! He flung open the door wrathfully, and a lithe stripling tumbled in and clung to him, gasping:

  “Oh, Capeetan Ben, Capeetan Ben! All eez lost! You are lumbaired, an' we mus' flee! Queekly – thaire eez no time to lose!”

  Realising almost instantly that it was not a chambermaid but Meliflua, the captain drew her in, closed the door, and strove to calm her as she collapsed on the bed and panted out her tale.

  Having absconded from the ballroom earlier, she had wandered the grounds in a dazed condition for some hours, until challenged by a patrol of guards. Darting into a low doorway, she had found herself in a cellar occupied by a drunken dwarf and a slumbering red-bearded giant (at which news Avery's eyes narrowed to steely slits, and he stroked his chin as he mumured: “Firebeard and Goliath – ha!”). Hiding behind a barrel, she had seen the guards lay hold of them, and from the obscenities they uttered she had judged them English. Not that the giant had put up much resistance, for—

  “'E was plastaired out of eez min', but thee dwarf 'e struggled an' called them bloddy Dagoes. Then presen'lee, that deezgusteeng Don Lardo an' the greaseball Enchillada come, een their night attire, an' they take thee two Eengleesh to the torture chamber. Thees I see through a leetle barred weendow. Thee giant they chain up, an' the midget 'e squeal an' say eef they let 'eem go 'e will tell them beeg news. So Don Lardo laff an' say, ‘Let's 'ear eet, shortie’, an' the dwarf 'e say 'e 'ave seen you fight weeth Capeetan Beelbo, an' you are not Don Espresso at oll, but thee faymoos Capeetan Avery, an' Eengleesh 'eretic pirate – wheech is true, as I know.”

  “I see,” said Avery. “And did they release the dwarf?”

  “No!” Donna Meliflua shuddered piteously. “They put 'eem on thee rack, an' – oh, eet was 'orreeble! They tore off 'ees laig!”

  “They tore off his what?” cried Avery, aghast.

  “Ees laig! 'Ees poor leetle left laig! 'E scream weeth agony w'en eet come off—”

  “It's all right,” said Avery soothingly. “It's made of wood. Then what?”

  “Don Lardo 'e clap 'ees 'ands, an' 'ees teeth fall out weeth pleasure – tell me, w'y does 'e not 'ave them stock een weeth sometheeng? Ah, but then 'e say to rack the dwarf again, but the chief torturer, 'e say you cannot rack a man weeth only one leg, because 'e ees not balanced propairly, an' eet might damage the machine. I could bear no more,” Meliflua concluded pathetically, “an' anyway, I mus' fly to warn you, an' now I yam 'ere, an' we mus' fly, Capeetan Ben, before Don Lardo send 'ees guards for you!”

  She flung herself into his arms again, and Avery patted her shoulder while his thoughts raced. There went his night's sleep, he was thinking, and now that his cover was blown a swift retreat was probably in order, although his haughty spirit rebelled at the thought.

  “Yoo weel fly, Capeetan Ben – an' tek mee weeth yoo!” Her slim arms were round his neck, and her eyes were those of a yearning koala. “I cannot stay to bee marreed to that reepulseev Don Lardo – I shall keel myself first! Pliz, pliz, tek mee weeth yoo!”

  “To be sure, brave child,” said our Ben, “but first I must have words with this red-bearded fellow of thine.” And he buckled on his rapier, made sure his shirt-ruffles were open at the front, and smoothed his hair at the mirror.

  “Wot!” Meliflua was horrified. “But 'e ees stoned, an' chained een thee 'orreed dungeon, weeth thee guards an' torture people, an' eef yoo go thair they weel keel yoo—”

  “Have no fear, dear maid, but listen,” said Avery crisply, “This red rascal, Firebeard by name, has an item o' price which I must e'en recoup from him. So now, you shall direct me to his dungeon, and whilst I steal thither, shalt await me at the quay where we came ashore—”

  “No! Nevaire shall I bee parted from yoo, Capeetan Ben! Whair you go, I go!” And so insistent was she that Avery was melted, and kissed her in brotherly fashion, at which she fainted briefly. When she came to, it was to see our captain in the act of snapping a magnificent gold cross containing a black pearl from the hilt of a great black rapier; he placed this glittering trophy, and a similar one containing a diamond, within the tight folds of his waist-sash, and smiled on her with boyish confidence.

  “Come, gallant Spanish lady,” said he, “and see how Long Ben Avery struts his stuff. And fear not; a dungeon-full of Dons is a mere pipe-opener to me.” He took her slim hand, and when she would have protested, stunned her to silence with a light salute on her dainty fingers.

  Down the great silent stairway they stole, hand in hand, the dim lamps casting huge shadows as they passed, and they would have won unhindered to the ground floor if they hadn't met Don Lardo and his attendants coming up. The Viceroy, more hideous than ever in a scarlet dressing-gown and nightcap, with vampire bats clinging to his shoulders (black widows in the evening, vampires at night, he was very particular), was in a steaming rage; they heard him shrieking as he stamped up the stairs, and Avery drew Meliflua aside into an alcove, whence they watched in breathless silence as he passed by, Enchillada trotting fearfully beside him in a perfectly foul Buchanan tartan dressing-gown, while a file of morioned soldiers brought up the rear.

  “One-legged dwarfs!” the Viceroy was snarling, and they saw his gooseberry eyes glitter palely in the half-light. “Why does it a
lways have to happen to me? I wanted to hear his bones crack and splinter, and what do I get – plywood! Ah, but he shall roast on a spit tomorrow, wooden leg and all. By then we shall have seized the ship of this Bilbo, and our own Santa Cascara—”

  “An' thee Eengleesh capeetan, Excellencee?” cried Enchillada. “Should we not clobbair 'eem now, while 'e sleeps?”

  “Intrude your opinions again, carrion,” hissed Don Lardo, “and I shall have your enormous entrails ripped from you with red-hot pincers. Have you no artistry, swine? We let him sleep, and all shall use him as Don Espresso tomorrow, while I gloat and hug myself to see him lulled – until, at my pleasure, I denounce him, and win the plaudits of all!” They heard his huge lips slobber and his teeth bounce clattering on the stair as he passed on, and Meliflua whispered tremulously in Avery's ear.

  “'Ow could I face that across thee breakfast tebble? Ah, Capeetan Ben, save me from 'eem!” Avery gave her a reassuring squeeze, and the hot-blooded young hidalga, mistaking it for affection, could not restrain an ecstatic whimper. Don Lardo checked, his great hideous face glaring round, the bats a-flutter on his massive shoulders.

  “What was that?” he rasped. “An unauthorised murmur?” His mad gaze fell on Enchillada. “Gluttonous offal, have you been at the curried beans again?” His hand lashed cruelly across the chamberlain's pudgy cheek, and then he lurched upwards, mouthing horribly, and Avery drew the terrified Meliflua swiftly out and down the staircase.

  Across the hall they hurried, and by many a passage the beauteous Spaniard directed Avery to where a dank flight of stone steps wound down into a torch-lit gloom where rats scuttled, nitre gleamed on the walls with their pathetic graffiti (“Up Torquemada!” “Aye, right up him!” “Morgan Rules, okay?” and “The Inquisition takes better care of you”), rusty chains dangled, and from the stygian vaults beneath came faint clank o' chain and murmuring voices. Avery, sword in hand, raised a cautionary finger to his lips and almost gave himself a nasty cut, and then, with Meliflua clinging at his shoulder, stole forward across the slippery flags towards a lighted archway, and peeped cautiously within …

  The Spanish jailers had spared no pains to make their prisoners comfortable for the night. Firebeard, now awake and as sentient as he ever was, had been spreadeagled on the floor, with great weights laid on his chest; his face was as red as his beard as he bore the intolerable burden that was threatening to burst his ribs. To one side, Black Sheba, her silver lamé trouser-suit sorrily besmirched and torn, was bound to a tilting platform; above her face a huge waterskin slowly but steadily dripped water, a drop at a time, on to the sodden cloth with which she had been gagged – it was nicely calculated to give her the agony of suffocation without actually drowning her.

  Close by, Bilbo was confined in a devilish frame of slender metal strips like some grotesque suit of armour. From it thick wires ran to a great brazier which glowed white hot, the principle being that heat travelled along the wires to Bilbo's suit, which was gradually warming up to the point where he would be slowly grilled alive. The fourth captive, little Goliath, was hung from a strappado, his arms behind his back, his single foot supporting him – and just to add to the fun a spiked board had been placed beneath that foot. Not surprisingly, he was being vocal, but in explanation rather than complaint.

  “'Tworn't my fault, capting! If that big soak on the floor 'adn't got hisself pissed, we'd never ha' bin took! An' I didn't mean ter give away the ship's position, honnist! It just slipped aht, like – an' I'm just a little chap, capting, an' I only got one leg! Don't blame me, capting!”

  “Peace, mannikin!” gasped Bilbo. “'Tis all one now … we ha' come to our bad end at last… ah, I burn, damme! 'Tis foretaste o' hell… oddsooks, if I could but take one o' them with me!” And from his cage he glared at the two jailers, great bearded ruffians in leather aprons, who drank and diced and talked with their mouths full at a greasy table, and when the luck ran against them they would pelt the hapless captives cruelly with bread rolls and orange peel. One of them now rose, stretched himself, and sauntered over to leer down at Sheba as she vainly tossed her head to avoid the choking drip that fell upon her gag.

  “Thirsty, chiquita?” mocked the torturer, and as the amber eyes shone hate at him he reached out to fondle her lewdly. “Ah, but you shall be dry enough when they bring you to the stake, black heretic bitch!” And with a cruel laugh he turned away to meet a fist which crashed against his jaw with shattering force and stretched him senseless on the flags. His comrade was half-out of his chair as Avery whirled on him; one quick shuffle, a pile-driving left to the stomach and a right to the head, and that was Number Two taken care of.

  Black Sheba felt the suffocating gag plucked from her mouth, and gasped in wonder and adoration at the splendid vision leaning over her; joy-bells rang in the ears of the dusky filibustress as she struggled for breath.

  “Barracuda!” she gasped. “You came back for me!”

  “Disgusting!” snapped Avery. “Our ambassador at Madrid is going to have a word or two to say about this, I can tell you! Why, 'tis against all usage o' captives! Four to a cell, too. Canst breathe, woman?”

  “Aye, but my heart is like to choke me!” cried Sheba. “Ah, release me that I may embrace thee, amore mio!”

  But Avery was away, kicking the spiked board from beneath Goliath's foot and slashing the ropes of the strappado with his rapier. “Donna Meliflua”, he called briskly, “would you be so kind as to cast a bucket of water over that person,” and he indicated the writhing Bilbo. Then he knelt beside the recumbent Firebeard and with one quick heave had thrust the weights from his body.

  “Damn me deadlights if it ain't the King's popinjay!” wheezed the hirsute giant. “An' a welcome sight, by thunder, says I, split me sideways else! Why, here's j'y, an' much obleeged t'ye, wi' a curse—”

  “Save it”, snapped Avery, and with steely-eyed deliberation laid his sword-point at Firebeard's throat. “I come not in thy behalf, fellow, but to ask thee this: where is the cross ye filched from the Madagascar crown? Now speak, or as I'm a gentleman I'll spit you like a capon. Well?”

  “Well, as you're a gentleman an' I'm a rogue, spit away an' welcome!” Firebeard's piggy eyes glared through the fuzz. “'Tis sweeter end than the Dons'll give me, by cock! So thrust home, cully – dispatch, ha!”

  Avery was snookered. Why, the great blister was right: a quick death was no threat at all, in his position – and, anyway, Avery knew that he could never skewer a helpless man, not even such a stinker as Firebeard. He bit his flawless lip, and Bilbo, now enveloped in clouds of steam as a result of Meliflua's bucket-work, laughed weakly in his cage.

  “Aye, slay away, King's man! Or – if y'are wise, make a bargain. Our liberty for the information ye seek, ha?”

  “Treat with such as you – never!” Avery regarded the cloud of steam with proud scorn. “Thy lives are forfeit for thy gross crimes, and whether 'tis Spain or England visits execution on you, 'tis all one!”

  “Then ye can go hang, dawcock!” roared Firebeard. “I'd sooner rot – aye, or burn at a Spanish stake – than tell ye where your precious cross is! So kill me an' be damned to you!”

  Avery stood a moment irresolute, and then his eye fell on Goliath, who was sitting massaging his small wrists; he alone of the captives was free, but without his wooden leg he was more or less immobile.

  “You,” snapped Avery, “are but a poor minion o' the Brotherhood. To loose thee on the world again were small weight on my conscience. So, sirrah, where is Firebeard his cross? Tell me and I vow to bear thee out of this to safety.”

  Goliath stopped massaging to gape, and Firebeard and Bilbo gave tongue with a vengeance. “Pick on someone your own size!” they roared. “Shame! Of all the mean tricks! Why, what a feeble spirit is this Long Ben Avery, to bully a poor halfling! Boo! Who'd ha' thought it! …” and the like.

  But Avery was implacable. “Choose, midget,” he said coldly, “and that speedily. Time presses.”

 
; Goliath sweated big drops. He shot a scared glance towards Bilbo, and started violently as the supine Firebeard growled ferociously; Goliath licked his lips and cringed at Avery. “Yer promise, honnist! You'll get me away?”

  Firebeard went berserk in his chains. “Maggot! Will ye truckle to this pimp, ye turncoat beetle? Rend and burn me, if I could come at ye, I'd tear your other leg off—”

  “'Appy Dan Pew's got it!” babbled Goliath. “Strite up, guv'nor! 'E won it offa ole 'Airy-Belly there at gamin', an' -”

  “Loaded dice!” bawled Firebeard. “We wuz robbed! We should ha' stood in bed!”

  “'Tis very well,” said Avery to Goliath. “I shall take you with me; y'are slight enough to carry till we may contrive you another leg. Donna Meliflua, we had best away.”

  Now, you'll have noticed that Sheba hadn't said a word during these exchanges. Sick as mud at the chilling realisation that Avery hadn't come to rescue her, she had not failed to note that the slender stripling was a young woman of outstanding oomph, albeit apparently a transvestite. Jealous fury quivered the pirate queen in her bonds, and she darted Meliflua a glance of fell malevolence.

  “Aye, best away, Donna Meliflua,” she sneered harshly. “Go wi' thy brave champion who abandons his countrymen to doom o' dago torture, and thinks no shame to coerce yon poor crippled gnome.” She curled a lip at Avery. “And you, captain – since ye ha' forgot your precious Vanity so soon, I wish ye joy o' that skinny ninny in men's breeches!”

  “Skinnee!” flared Meliflua indignantly. “At least I don' treep ovair my own lower leep!” But Avery stilled her with an upraised hand and spoke at Sheba.

  “I would have ye under no misprision,” said he, a slight flush suffusing his clean-cut features. “This is a distressed Spanish lady whom I shall deliver from shameful fate; she is no love o' mine, but poor abandoned innocent, so you can take your foul focsle gossip and bottle it!” But the pirates hooted with derision and made vulgar noises.