Kings and Emperors by Dewey Lambdin Page B

small stream of fresh water had guaranteed Tetuán’s existence for all those centuries.
    â€œIt seems we have the anchorage to ourselves, sir,” Westcott idly commented as they strolled the quarterdeck. “There’s no one else in sight. No Spanish merchantmen, certainly.”
    â€œThey need grain, they get it smuggled out of Gibraltar by any number of traders who’d oblige ’em,” Lewrie cynically said. “Spies on the side, who knows? Sir Hew Dalrymple has a bee under his bonnet, sure that there’s mutiny or civilian revolt just waitin’ to explode. For all I know, he may be right. Keeps him up, nights.”
    â€œLike a Trojan Horse?” Lt. Westcott scoffed. “Up against the Rock’s garrison? Sounds iffy to me.”
    Lewrie picked up a telescope from the binnacle cabinet rack and went to the quarterdeck’s landward side to peer shoreward. “Hmm, there’s some shallow-draught boats of decent size up the inlet, just off the quays, it appears. Arabic, I think. Lots of lateen sails furled up round their booms. Feluccas, or dhows ? Here, have a look for yourself, Mister Westcott.”
    â€œHmm,” Westcott dared to speculate after a good, long look of his own. “There’s one almost big enough to make me suspect that it’s a Barbary Corsair’s pirate craft. It’s hard to tell any more, they’ve so many captured brigs, schooners, and such, but a big lateener would be fast enough to run down a prize. The rest? We’ll know once the cutter’s back. If she is a Corsair, we should keep an eye on her, too, sir. Just ’cause we pay tribute for safe passage doesn’t mean we can’t have a go at one of them if we catch them red-handed.”
    â€œAt least the Americans had the will to take them on and end their paying tribute,” Lewrie said, enviously. “Christ, one’d think that with our Navy so big, we could spare a squadron of brig-sloops to put an end to North African piracy, once and for all.”
    â€œNow, there’s a duty I’d relish,” Westcott said with some heat. He bared his teeth briefly in one of his quick, savage grins, looking positively wolfish.
    â€œI think I’ll go aft and have a well-needed nap, perhaps play with Chalky,” Lewrie decided aloud. “The weather’s fair, there’s no threat in sight, and the Mids of the Harbour Watch can cope.”
    â€œI may emulate you, sir,” Westcott said.
    â€œLater, Mister Westcott. Alert me when the cutter’s back.”
    â€œAye, sir.”
    *   *   *
    His cat had been in need of a bout of play, too, a full half-hour of chasing and pouncing and leaping after a champagne cork on a length of twine, ’til he was panting. And when Lewrie stretched out on the settee, Chalky settled down on his chest for pets and praise ’til he slunk down to one side of Lewrie’s leg for a well-earned nap of his own. Pettus, his cabin steward, and Jessop, the cabin servant, did their puttering about the cabins quietly, to allow Lewrie perfect rest, at least an hour’s worth before there was the rap and shout from the Marine sentry.
    â€œMidshipman Harvey, SAH!” the sentry bawled.
    â€œUhmph … enter!” Lewrie called back, sitting up and getting to his feet.
    â€œThe First Officer’s duty, sir, and I am to inform you that the cutter is returning,” Harvey reported.
    â€œMy compliments to Mister Westcott, and I will be on deck, directly,” Lewrie replied. A quick trip to his wash-hand stand for some splashes of water on his face, and a quick drink and rinse, and he was awake and headed for the quarterdeck, impatiently waiting for the boat to come alongside, and for Lieutenant Harcourt and Midshipman Fywell to come and report.
    â€œLet’s go aft,” Lewrie suggested to them.
    Fywell had made a rough chart of Tetuán’s docks, with pointed ovals