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Authors: PATRICIA POTTER
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marque.”
“You are nothing but a bloody pirate,” he said. “Our navy will hunt you down, and I’ll watch you hang.”
“Perhaps,” Alex said. “In the meantime I would like your log and bill of lading.” He paused. “Whom am I addressing?”
“Captain John Talbot. And who will I be watching hang?”
“Captain Malfour,” Alex said. “But if you are this foolish again, I doubt you will ever watch anyone hang.”
Talbot’s lips pressed tightly together, and a muscle leapt in his throat. He was furious that someone would accost a British vessel. Typical English arrogance, Alex thought.
“Your cargo?”
“Wines, flour, lard, candles, tools, furniture.”
“Nothing so grand as to risk destruction of the ship. And the lives of your crew,” Alex said.
“You are Scottish.” Talbot uttered the words as if they were an accusation.
“How astute of you.”
“A damned Jacobite.”
“Who is now your captor. You might remember that. Why did you fire those shells? Surely you knew you were outgunned.”
Talbot’s face grew red. “I didn’t know your intentions. You might well have killed us in any event. A civilized crew does not fire on another.”
“There we are again,” Alex said lazily. “Talking about who is, and who is not, civilized.”
“Damn you. What
do
you plan to do?”
“My prize crew will take over your ship and sell it in Martinique. You and your seamen will join us on my ship. I am afraid I will have to confine all but the officers until we arrive.”
A pause. “I have passengers.”
“They will not be physically harmed.” He stressed the word “physically.” He would not guarantee their property. Not until he knew who and what they were.
Talbot clamped his lips together as if he wanted to say more.
“Have all your crew and passengers come up on deck. I want your mate to show this man your weapons closet.” He nodded toward Burke. “My first mate will want your log, lading, and ownership papers,” Alex said. “As soon as we’ve secured the weapons and log, we will transport you to the
Ami
.”
Another hesitation. Then, “I have several ladies aboard. I want to be assured that they will be treated with respect, that they will not be harmed.”
Alex suddenly knew why the merchantman had hazarded firing shells. Perhaps they had thought him a true pirate and had not wanted to risk the ladies. Alex’s respect for the English captain rose a notch.
“I do not hurt women,” Alex said. “Unlike the English.”
“I take offense at that.”
“Then you were not in Scotland after Culloden.”
The captain looked offended. “You lie, sir. The English honor women.”
Alex balled his fists. “Unless they are Scots. Or Irish.”
The captain flushed. “I want your oath that you will not harm the ladies,” he persisted.
“And you are asking that of a liar? That is not the way to gain a favor.”
“I will not move from this deck, from this spot, until I have your oath.”
“You have it. We have no interest in pale Englishwomen.”
“Two of them are Scottish. One is a lady.” The captain hesitated again.
“The name, Captain?”
The man’s reluctance warned him. “I imagine her name is in your log,” Alex prompted lazily.
“Lady Jeanette Campbell,” the captain finally said.
“Campbell?” His fists had relaxed. Now they tightened again. If there was one family in Scotland that he held responsible for the destruction of many clans, it was the Campbells. His sister had married one who’d turned out to be a rotter of the worst sort.
He hated the Campbells with every fiber of his being.
The captain must have seen his reaction, or even felt the enmity radiating from him.
“Your oath,” he demanded again.
“You get nothing, Captain Talbot,” he said coldly. He turned away from his prisoner. “Burke, find the weapons storage and place three of our men there. Then flush the passengers from the cabins. Mr. Torbeau, you will search the captain’s
“You are nothing but a bloody pirate,” he said. “Our navy will hunt you down, and I’ll watch you hang.”
“Perhaps,” Alex said. “In the meantime I would like your log and bill of lading.” He paused. “Whom am I addressing?”
“Captain John Talbot. And who will I be watching hang?”
“Captain Malfour,” Alex said. “But if you are this foolish again, I doubt you will ever watch anyone hang.”
Talbot’s lips pressed tightly together, and a muscle leapt in his throat. He was furious that someone would accost a British vessel. Typical English arrogance, Alex thought.
“Your cargo?”
“Wines, flour, lard, candles, tools, furniture.”
“Nothing so grand as to risk destruction of the ship. And the lives of your crew,” Alex said.
“You are Scottish.” Talbot uttered the words as if they were an accusation.
“How astute of you.”
“A damned Jacobite.”
“Who is now your captor. You might remember that. Why did you fire those shells? Surely you knew you were outgunned.”
Talbot’s face grew red. “I didn’t know your intentions. You might well have killed us in any event. A civilized crew does not fire on another.”
“There we are again,” Alex said lazily. “Talking about who is, and who is not, civilized.”
“Damn you. What
do
you plan to do?”
“My prize crew will take over your ship and sell it in Martinique. You and your seamen will join us on my ship. I am afraid I will have to confine all but the officers until we arrive.”
A pause. “I have passengers.”
“They will not be physically harmed.” He stressed the word “physically.” He would not guarantee their property. Not until he knew who and what they were.
Talbot clamped his lips together as if he wanted to say more.
“Have all your crew and passengers come up on deck. I want your mate to show this man your weapons closet.” He nodded toward Burke. “My first mate will want your log, lading, and ownership papers,” Alex said. “As soon as we’ve secured the weapons and log, we will transport you to the
Ami
.”
Another hesitation. Then, “I have several ladies aboard. I want to be assured that they will be treated with respect, that they will not be harmed.”
Alex suddenly knew why the merchantman had hazarded firing shells. Perhaps they had thought him a true pirate and had not wanted to risk the ladies. Alex’s respect for the English captain rose a notch.
“I do not hurt women,” Alex said. “Unlike the English.”
“I take offense at that.”
“Then you were not in Scotland after Culloden.”
The captain looked offended. “You lie, sir. The English honor women.”
Alex balled his fists. “Unless they are Scots. Or Irish.”
The captain flushed. “I want your oath that you will not harm the ladies,” he persisted.
“And you are asking that of a liar? That is not the way to gain a favor.”
“I will not move from this deck, from this spot, until I have your oath.”
“You have it. We have no interest in pale Englishwomen.”
“Two of them are Scottish. One is a lady.” The captain hesitated again.
“The name, Captain?”
The man’s reluctance warned him. “I imagine her name is in your log,” Alex prompted lazily.
“Lady Jeanette Campbell,” the captain finally said.
“Campbell?” His fists had relaxed. Now they tightened again. If there was one family in Scotland that he held responsible for the destruction of many clans, it was the Campbells. His sister had married one who’d turned out to be a rotter of the worst sort.
He hated the Campbells with every fiber of his being.
The captain must have seen his reaction, or even felt the enmity radiating from him.
“Your oath,” he demanded again.
“You get nothing, Captain Talbot,” he said coldly. He turned away from his prisoner. “Burke, find the weapons storage and place three of our men there. Then flush the passengers from the cabins. Mr. Torbeau, you will search the captain’s
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