Rapscallion by James McGee Page A

you've only been
here a day."
    "So?"
Hawkwood said. "What the hell does that have to do with anything?"
    "Perhaps
you should be a little more patient."
    "Patient?" Lasseur said.
    "I've
been patient." Hawkwood resisted the urge to wipe the condescending smile
from the interpreter's face. "My patience is starting to wear thin."
    "And you've certainly been
biding your time, Lieutenant," Lasseur said icily. "How long have you
been here? Two years, is it?" The privateer turned down his mouth.
"Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea."
    Hawkwood
gazed at Murat and gave a slow shake of his head. "We thought you'd be the
man to advise us. It looks as if we were wrong." He cast a glance towards
Lasseur and shrugged. "Pity."
    "You
want to know what I think? " Lasseur murmured.
"I think the lieutenant's grown a little too complacent, a little too
comfortable. I'm guessing he's never even thought of making a run for it
himself. He's making too good a living here." Lasseur threw the
interpreter a challenging glare. "That's it, isn't it? In fact, I'd wager
you're earning a damned sight more through barter and your interpreter's pay
than you were as a naval officer. Got yourself a nice little business here,
haven't you? You don't want to leave. Am I right?"
    A
nerve pulsed along the interpreter's cheek. "All I'm saying is that it's
my understanding these things can take time - weeks, months sometimes."
    "What
if we don't want to wait that long?" Hawkwood said.
    "We
couldn't help noticing the water delivery earlier," Lasseur said. "We
thought that had potential."
    There
was a pause. Then the interpreter gave a brief shake of his head. "You can
forget the water casks. It did work, but not any more. Nowadays they're the
first things they check."
    "Really?" Lasseur said. He threw Hawkwood a look. "So much for
that idea."
    "I
told you it looked too damned easy," Hawkwood said. "All right, so
what about the other deliveries?"
    Lasseur
had played the interpreter beautifully. Like a fish caught on a hook, Murat
hadn't been able to resist the tug at his vanity. Now, wanting to be considered
the font of all knowledge, he shook his head. "That's been tried, too. I
told you; the bastards check everything. You'll never get off that way."
    Murat's
gaze drifted sideways, distracted by the activity around them. The three men
were seated next to one of the portside grilles. Hawkwood assumed it was where
Murat slung his hammock, for the interpreter had welcomed his and Lasseur's
arrival as if granting them entry into his personal fiefdom. Elsewhere, dotted
about the deck, the more industrious inhabitants were engaged in a variety of
pursuits. Basket makers, letter writers and knitters squatted alongside bone
modellers and barbers. Some worked in silence. Others chatted to their neighbours.
The scratch of nib, the snip of scissors and the scrape of blade on bone filled
the lulls in conversation. Hawkwood wondered if there'd ever been a time when
the hulk had fallen entirely silent. He doubted it.
    "We
could use the cover of night," Lasseur said. "Steal a boat."
    Murat
shook his head again. "They hoist the boats up alongside. They're at
least ten feet above the water. One's kept afloat, but it's secured by a chain
from the boarding raft and that's always under guard."
    "Damn."
Lasseur bit his lip.
    Hawkwood
addressed Murat. "How did the others get off?"
    "Others?" Warily.
    "There
have been others, haven't there?" Lasseur pressed.
    There
was a noticeable hesitation. An artful look stole over the interpreter's face.
"As I said, Captain, you've only been here a short time. You wouldn't
expect all our little secrets to be revealed to you quite so soon."
    So, you do have secrets, Hawkwood
thought.
    Lasseur's
eyebrows rose. "Why, Lieutenant, anyone would think you didn't trust
us."
    The
interpreter spread his hands. "For a start, there's the matter of the pot.
You haven't put anything in yet."
    "Pot?" Lasseur looked to Hawkwood for enlightenment. "What pot? What the