The Lost Gentleman. Margaret McPhee

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СКАЧАТЬ that is exactly what he thinks.’

      ‘Do you know that La Voile is thought to be single-handedly responsible for reducing British transatlantic trade by almost twenty per cent? How can that be? How is it even possible?’ Gunner asked. He was tall and surprisingly slender for a man who had spent many years at sea. Freckle-faced and with hair that in colder climes was red, but now in the bright sun of the waters off the Gulf of Mexico was golden beneath the straw hat he always favoured. He had clear, honest blue eyes and long bony fingers that could wield a prayer book, scalpel and cutlass with equal precision.

      ‘La Voile operates under the protection of both a pirate overlord and authorities who turn a blind eye to his illicit actions. He has one vessel and a small loyal crew—low costs, tight control. He hits fast and hard. Takes what cargo he wants and leaves the merchantman and crew intact and in situ—a novel concept in the pirate world. He’s clever. Clever enough to hit only easy targets and leave the big well-defended jobs to others. Clever enough to find the inevitable stragglers every convoy leaves behind. And clever enough to avoid being caught despite the best efforts of His Majesty’s navy.’

      ‘Lucky for us,’ said Gunner.

      ‘Very lucky,’ agreed Kit and thought of the astronomically large sum they were being paid to do this job.

      La Voile’s ship, Coyote, was no longer a speck on the horizon. ‘My, but he is fast.’ Gunner spoke aloud what Kit was thinking.

      ‘Almost as fast as us,’ said Kit.

      Gunner smiled. ‘Do we take him dead or alive?’

      ‘Alive,’ said Kit. ‘The bounty is higher. They want to make an example of him and hang him in irons themselves. Be gentle with this particular American pirate, Reverend Dr Gunner.’

      ‘If you insist, Captain North.’

      The two men exchanged a wry smile of understanding.

      The crew on the deck hurried about as if in panic, feigning a ship that was trying to escape the jaws of a predator. The Union flag fluttered from the jack, its red, white and blue crosses and diagonals clear in the Caribbean sunlight. Men appeared as if they were trying to adjust sails.

      ‘Is everything ready?’ Kit asked.

      ‘Exactly as you specified.’

      Kit gave a nod and, slipping the spyglass from his pocket once more, studied the black-sailed Coyote as she closed the distance.

      ‘Interesting,’ he murmured and focused on the three figures standing at the ship’s helm beneath the black awning. ‘They appear to be arguing over a woman.’

      ‘A woman?’ Gunner screwed his face in disbelief.

      ‘And a respectable looking one at that.’

      ‘A hostage?’

      ‘She is neither bound nor gagged.’

      ‘Abducted,’ pronounced Gunner.

      ‘More likely.’ Kit could see the distinct threat in the body language of the taller pirate towards the woman. The sunlight glinted on the steel of both men’s half-drawn cutlass blades.

      ‘Is La Voile one of them?’

      ‘I believe so. Look for yourself.’ He passed the spyglass to Gunner that he might study the three figures.

      ‘How big a fall in the bounty if we deliver him dead?’

      ‘Enough.’

      ‘You convince me, but I cannot deny that I would prefer a more personal approach to the spilling of his blood.’

      The two men stood together on the deck of Raven and waited for La Voile to step into their trap.

      * * *

      It was the sight of the captain of the merchant schooner that sent the first shiver of apprehension rippling down Kate’s spine. There was something about the dark steady focus of his eyes that reminded her of the unnerving stare of the raven that had sat overhead on the mizzen mast not so long since. She pushed the absurd thought from her head and tried to ignore the unease that hung about her like a miasma in the air. This was a hit, just like any other, she told herself, but her eyes checked again for long guns, despite the spyglass having already told her they were absent.

      ‘Not a gun in sight,’ said Tobias as if echoing her thought. ‘Not a hint of resistance. They are yielding just like all the rest of the British yellow bellies. Cowards! For once I wish they would give us a real fight!’ He spat his disgust on to the deck.

      ‘Unarmed and faced with our long guns pointing straight at them? Don’t be a fool, Tobias. We should be thankful that their common sense makes things easier for us,’ she said.

      Coyote’s long guns had that effect on the British merchant ships Kate selected, allowing an easy progression to locking the two ships together by means of grappling hooks before throwing down the boarding planks. The nameless ship was no exception.

      Kate’s crew followed the same procedure, the same routine they were so practised at they could have undertaken it with their eyes shut. She watched the Tallaholm men disappear down the merchantman’s ladders to her cargo deck. All they had to do was take their choice pick of the goods being carried and Coyote could sail away. Same as ever she did. Easy as taking candy from a baby. Yet that same unfamiliar apprehension and anxiety pulled again at Kate, stronger this time.

      Her gaze scanned over the merchantman’s deck, finding nothing out of the ordinary, before returning to the ship’s captain once more. There was something about him, something she could not quite figure out. She examined him more closely. He was lean of build with that stripped, strong look that came from years of hard manual work. She could tell by the way his shabby faded coat sat on his broad square shoulders, from his stance, and the way the shadows cast from his battered old tricorne hat revealed sharp cheekbones and a chiselled jaw.

      Under his hat his hair was dark, and his skin had the golden tanned colouration of a man who had spent time at sea. Beneath his coat she could see a shirt and neckcloth, both black as any pirate’s. Buff breeches were tight on muscular legs. On his feet he wore leather boots that had once been brown, but were now salt-and sun-faded to a noncolour that defied description. The long scabbard on his left hip was empty. Its sword lay with the other weapons her men had taken from him and his crew, thrown in a paltry pile on the deck before them. The tip of young John Rishley’s sword hovered close to the captain’s chest, should any of his crew decide to defy their captors. John had proven himself a valuable member of Coyote’s crew, but Kate still wished Tobias had sent an older, more experienced member of her crew to hold the merchantman’s captain.

      All of these thoughts and observations took place in seconds, her gaze absorbing it in one swift movement before returning to his eyes. Dark eyes beneath the brim of that hat. Eyes that were looking right back at her. The shiver ran over her skin again. Someone walking over her grave, her grandmother would have said. She did not break the gaze, because it was his eyes that were ringing every warning bell in her body. There was something about those eyes of his. What was it...? As she stared into them, she realised.

      The captain did not look like a man who was nervous for his life or his livelihood. There was nothing of fear in him, not one tiny СКАЧАТЬ