The Pirate and the Pagan Read Free Page A

voice.
    “Is that an order, Your Majesty?” he asked coldly.
    Charles nodded his head. “I think his services will be invaluable to me.”
    “Give my regards to the Queen, Your Majesty,” said Ruark Helford, bowing formally.
    Charles hid a grin. He knew he had hit a sore spot mentioning the pirate Rory. “My regards to you mistress. I don’t envy you explaining why you must desert her for Cornwall.”
    Ruark Helford’s brows drew together slightly. “I don’t explain myself to women, Sire.”
    Charles laughed. “One day you’ll meet your match, Helford. ’Tis the fate of all libertines, my friend.”
        Cat stretched her arms above her head and stood up from the kitchen table to light the lantern.
    “Where are you going?” asked Spider between great yawns.
    “I forgot to go down to see if the boat can be repaired.”
    “We can go in the morning,” protested the boy.
    “It’s low tide now. I can go alone, you go on to bed.”
    “’Course you can’t go alone,” he said firmly, all sleepiness gone from his voice. “If I don’t look out for you, who will?” He asked the question with the inborn arrogance of a grown man and suddenly she felt such a pang that the boy she had looked after foryears would soon grow into a man. For one brief moment she wished he would never turn into a man, for she hated them, but then she chided herself for having such wicked, selfish thoughts about her young brother.
    Cat held the lantern high as they walked through the cellars, and on into the caverns hollowed from the cliff’s rock. The salt tang of tidewrack assailed their nostrils as they bent their heads to go through the narrow passage into the cave. As she emerged from the passage and lifted the lantern, Cat was startled by a bright, flickering light from the sea. It was close in, almost in the shallows, and both of them knew in the same instant that it was a ship’s lantern which thought their own light was a signal. Quickly Cat snuffed out her lantern, and as she did so, Spider pointed out a ship. It looked like a small French frigate. Its sails had been furled, but it was now in the business of hoisting sail as fast as it could. Voices carried clearly across the water.
“Vite! Patrouille marine!”
    Both of them had a smattering of French, and knew the ship had spotted a navy patrol boat. They peered out across the dark, choppy waters and saw it quite a way off, but resolutely closing the distance.
    “Dans la mer!”
came an order, followed by four muffled splashes.
    “They’re dumping cargo into the sea,” Cat translated. “If they are caught and searched, there’ll be no evidence unless the patrol takes time to fish it out of the drink.”
    A sailor called a question,
“Planche à bouteilles?”
    The answer came quickly,
“Oui, oui—embariller—sel, sel.”
    “What did he say?” asked Cat low.
    “Sel
is salt.
Embariller
means packed in casks. Must be fish,” said Spider in disgust.
    “No, no—he asked the captain if he should dump the
planche à bouteilles
as well. That’s a wooden crate of bottles. I know what they’ve done!” said Cat excitedly. “They’ve packed the stuff in rock salt so it’ll sink. It’ll take a few hours for the salt to melt, then around about daybreak the stuff will float up.”
    Spider said in wonder, “Isn’t it amazing how somebody’s misfortune is somebody else’s gain? The world has a kind of balance to it, y’know?”
    “But we’ve got to be quick and cunning.” Cat laughed. “We’ll go up to the kitchen and get a couple of hours’ sleep by the fire. Tide will be rising by then.”
    *   *   *
    Sunrise was still a good hour away and they had accomplished everything they’d hoped for. The sea had thrown up four large casks of brandy and five cases marked
vin de champagne,
holding fifty bottles in all. Cat had never heard of champagne, but
vin
was wine and the tide had done almost all the work for them. For the small price of a thorough