Kings and Emperors by Dewey Lambdin

cunning, later.”
    â€œWe must open another bottle of champagne,” Mountjoy decided, turning his upside down to see one lone drop dribble out, frowning in disappointment.
    Aye, drunk as a lord in an hour, Lewrie judged him; as drunk as an emperor by the afternoon. Lewrie figured that Mountjoy had earned himself a good drunk, after a year or more of scheming, planning, disappointments, and set-backs. The spy trade didn’t allow all that many successes, and the few had to be savoured and celebrated, one way or another.
    â€œYou’ll have t’drink without me, sorry,” Lewrie told him as he got to his feet and fetched his hat. He did drain his glass of champagne to “heel-taps,” though. “I think I’ll ramble down to Maddalena’s to see if she’d like to dine out.”
    â€œI see,” Mountjoy said, sniggering. “I celebrate my way, and you will celebrate your own way.”
    â€œSomething like that, indeed!” Lewrie told him, grinning.

 
    CHAPTER EIGHT
    â€œBoat-work, I see, sir,” Lieutenant Harcourt, the ship’s Second Officer, said, leaning over an old chart on Lewrie’s desk in his day-cabins.
    â€œWe draw too much water to go right to the docks,” Lewrie told him, tapping the chart with a pencil stub. “Tetuán’s a full two miles inland, up this long inlet, which is also too narrow for us. I asked round ashore with various merchants, and they all said it’s best to anchor off the mouth of the inlet and send boats in, or a single boat to place orders with the Moroccan traders, and wait for them to barge the goods out. They’re used to British ships putting in to purchase foodstuffs, so your presence won’t seem remarkable. I wish you to accompany Mister Cadrick, the Purser, who’ll buy flour and couscous, to give us a good reason to be there, but … I want you to keep a sharp eye out for any Spanish buyers, any boats along the quays, to see if the Dons cooped up in the fortress of Ceuta use Tetuán as a source for provisions. With all those new arrivals, they’re sure to be on short-commons, and need food from somewhere.”
    â€œI’m to ‘smoak’ them out, sir? Aye, I see,” Harcourt agreed.
    â€œAll the men in your boat party will be armed, just in case,” Lewrie went on, “but the last thing I wish is swaggerin’, so keep the men close, and the arms out of sight unless they’re really needed. I don’t have to mention that there’s no drink to be had in an Arabic port, so the people in your party must be warned about that. I don’t know what Arabs think about whorin’, so you’ll have to caution them on that head, too. Once Mister Cadrick’s business is done, come back out to the ship, making it appear to be business as usual, with your report. Who will you have?”
    â€œAble Seaman Crawley and his old boat crew, sir, and one of the cutters,” Harcourt decided quickly, playing old favourites from the ship’s former Captain’s days.
    â€œTake Midshipman Fywell along,” Lewrie told him before Harcourt could request his ally, Midshipman Hillhouse. “He draws well, and art work could be useful.”
    â€œAye, sir,” Harcourt agreed, but that was rote obedience.
    â€œThe Moroccans have no way to enforce the accepted Three Mile Limit, so once we round Ceuta and come to anchor off Tetuán, we will do so one mile off the mouth of the inlet, where most of our traders and warships do. As I said, business as usual, and no one suspecting what we’re really about.
    â€œWe’ll also take a peek at the dock area on the South end of the neck of land below Ceuta, to see if they’ve any vessels there,” Lewrie continued. “If there are, there may be more boat-work, a cutting-out raid in the dark of night, but that’s for later. Right?”
    â€œRight, sir,” Harcourt said. “And