21.

aHe did what?" William Montague roared, turning purple in the face.

"He confiscated the Swallow. There was nothing I could do about it. We were virtual prisoners, outnumbered two to one by FitzGeralds. I was d.a.m.n lucky to come away with my life, no thanks to you!"

"What do you mean?" Montague bl.u.s.tered.

"You knew Shamus O'Toole would shoot a Montague on sight; that's why the pair of you chose me for your scapegoat. You can consider yourself lucky he returned our crew."

"And what good is a crew without a ship? We still have a contract to supply and transport horses for the army, even though my cursed brother has f.u.c.ked us with the Admiralty. But if there's any delay, we'll never get their business again and I'll lose face with Bedford, who's still able to pull some strings for us."

"I'll buy another ship today. If we want to make money we must expand, and we don't want to lose the crew."

"You can handle the paperwork, but Jack will decide which vessel we buy.

You don't know a scow from a schooner."

"Your confidence in my ability overwhelms me, Father," John said dryly.

"I'd go myself if I wasn't a martyr to this G.o.dd.a.m.n gout!"

John knew it would be pointless to explain that the gout attacks were tied to his vicious temper, which he lost morning, noon, and night.

After they departed, Montague sat morosely at his desk. Why had life suddenly turned sour? he wondered. He shook his head. If the truth be told, the sweetness of life had been missing for years; ever since Amber left him. No one could comfort him as his wife had; nothing could ease the pain of his gout like her herbal concoctions. He had no idea what had become of her, but a.s.sumed she was living in Ireland, probably with the FitzGeralds at Maynooth. Perhaps he should forgive her and take her back.

As John Montague and Jack Raymond walked along the London docks, the latter was struck by the number of O'Toole vessels in port. "If I ever come face to face with that Irish son of a wh.o.r.e, I'll kill him with my bare hands."

John laughed. "Perhaps now is your chance. There's the Half Moon, he might be aboard."

Jack was stunned. "He sailed with you?"

"The Montagues don't intimidate him in any way. I believe he was guest of honor at Newcastle's Victory Ball last night."

Jack Raymond ground his teeth in impotent rage. "Did he bring my wife with him?"

"Of course not," John lied. "He's n.o.body's fool." John nodded his head in the direction of the Half Moon. "Speak of the devil."

Raymond's head jerked up to see the figure of O'Toole negligently leaning against the rail. Jack stared at the dark malevolent face with disbelief. He would never have recognized the hardened, dangerous man as Sean O'Toole. Despite the casual pose, O'Toole was so intimidating, Jack felt his bowels knot.

Why hadn't he rid the world of the Irish sc.u.m along with his brother? Perhaps it still wasn't too late. There was so much hatred and bad blood between them, he knew he'd never feel safe until O'Toole was dead. The thought that the Irishman had stolen his wife from under his nose was intolerable, but even worse was Jack Raymond's sus-picion that Emerald had gone willingly. If and when he managed to get her back, he would make her pay for the rest of her life!

As Jack Raymond quickened his pace, John hid a smile of contempt. He knew Raymond was no match for O'Toole and would avoid a confrontation at any cost.

The two men spent the morning visiting the offices of the maritime brokers, the afternoon inspecting the vessels they offered for sale. Only two were seaworthy, despite claims to the contrary. One was an Irish schooner, the other a two-masted merchantman, newly arrived from Gibraltar and bearing that name.

The latter looked suspiciously familiar to John, even though she had a fresh coat of paint. When he saw it had had a recent lime washing to rid it of its stink, he knew it was one of the slavers they secretly owneda"or had owned, until O'Toole relieved them of it.

Johnny's wicked juices began to bubble as he praised up the schooner, knowing Raymond was prejudiced against all things Irish.

"No," Jack said decisively, "the merchantman has a much deeper hold, and a blind man can see it won't need paint for a couple of years."

"I still prefer the schoonera"it's a much faster vessela"but I suppose I must defer to your superior knowledge."

"You're here to do the paperwork," Jack reminded him.

"I'll get the Gibraltar transferred and registered to the Montague Line today.

You get word to the captain and crew, if they're not all dead drunk by now." The minute Raymond left him, Johnny closed his eyes in prayer. I ask only one thinga"

please let me be there when Father learns he's bought his own f.u.c.king ship!

Sean O'Toole felt a p.r.i.c.kling sensation at the back of his neck. It lingered on hours after Jack Raymond had slithered from his sight. It was not fear, it was more like a premonition or warning that something was in the wind. Confrontation wasn't Raymond's style, but O'Toole did not underestimate him for one minute. The hate and rancor that had been exchanged in one swift glance told him Jacko would try to retaliate.

It was midafternoon before he realized his uncase centered on Emerald. He decided to return to the house in Old Park Lane immediately, though he went by a circuitous route so he couldn't be followed.

When Scan found her in the kith, he was so relieved, he went weak. "Get dressed. I've asked the maid to pack your things. We're leaving."

"Sean! You promised to take me to Vauxhall."

He stared at her blankly and ran his fingers through his hair.

Her hand stole to her throat. "You're frightening me, what's wrong?"

Realizing what he must look like, he forced himself to relax. "Nothing is wrong. You asked me to take you home last night. I'm only trying to please you."

"Admit the truth! You completely forgot about Vauxhall, didn't you?"

He laughed. "Ah, Beauty, seeing you in your bath was so distracting, it wiped away all thought of pleasure gardens." Now that he saw she was here, safe and sound, he felt foolish over his irrational apprehension. And so long as he was with her, no harm could come to her. He watched her swirl the sponge over the high curve of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s where they swelled from the water.

Emerald watched his eyes follow the sponge and knew the effect she was having on him. She lay back in the bath, then lifted the sponge and squeezed. Water trickled over her shapely shoulders. She dipped the sponge beneath the surface, then lifted one leg so she could trickle water down it. That did the trick. The corners of her mouth went up as she watched him remove his coat and unfasten his neckcloth.

He slipped down beneath her, lifting her out of the tub and onto his lap as he sat on the stool next to the bath. He was unmindful of the water that dripped over him, soaking his remaining clothes. He kissed her ear. "I see no reason why we can't do both. I'll take you to Vauxhall, then we can go straight to the ship and leave on the midnight tide."

She wriggled her bottom about, to accommodate his growing erection. "I don't want to miss the fireworks," she said innocently.

He bit down on the earlobe he'd just kissed. "I'll give you b.l.o.o.d.y fireworks!"

"Promise?" she asked saucily, leaning back in his arms. His shaft hardened along the length of his soaked pants and it felt as though there were no material between them.

He reached out to cup her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in the palms of his hands and lifted them until they looked like melons.

They were so sensitive, she cried out.

He was immediately contrite. "Did I hurt you, love? I'm such a rough devil."

He enfolded her in his arms.

She reached up to caress his cheek. "Of course you didn't hurt me. You could never hurt me."

When Jack Raymond returned to Bottolph's Wharf, where the Montague Line headquarters were located, he was surprised to find Captain Bowers and his first mate on the Swallow in William Montague's office. The old man had wasted no time in demanding an explanation of why they had allowed their crew to give up the Swallow.

The captain and first mate stood pa.s.sively while Montague ranted, raved, and ordered the captain to mete out discipline to his gutless crew. It went without saying they'd receive no pay for the voyage to Ireland, but when Montague threatened no wages for a year, they were ready to revolt.

Jack wasn't displeased Montague had softened them up with his threats.

Perhaps the fear of losing a year's wages would make them more susceptible to Jack's plan, for which they'd be well compensated should they agree to it. He made eye contact with William.

"Well?" the old man thundered.

"We've acquired another vessel. I'm sure Captain Bowers will read the riot act to his crew and they'll be more careful in the future."

"The scurvy b.a.s.t.a.r.ds don't deserve another ship!" William roared, but it was just bl.u.s.ter. In wartime sailors were in demand, though most preferred to crew a merchant vessel over an Admiralty or Navy ship.

Jack Raymond gave them directions to the Gibraltar, which was moored at Wapping, and praised the ship's fine points. He made sure William knew he had overruled John's choice of an Irish schooner.

William dismissed the men so he could ask Jack the price. "I'll go and see for myself if we've got our money's worth. I might as well dine at the Prospect of Whitby by the Wapping water stairs. Meet me there at eight."

Jack Raymond followed Captain Bowers and his first mate as they set out to round up their men. Most of the crew were at the Bucket of Blood, a hangout for merchantmen that Jack had never dared enter before. Jack spotted the two sailors sitting at a plank table with the bosun from the Heron, another Montague vessel that was in port.

Jack sat down at the table. "Let me pay for this round. I have a proposition that will put money in your pockets."

The men were all ears until he mentioned the Half Moon. "Where the h.e.l.l would we get that much gunpowder?" asked a reluctant Bowers.

"Christ, I don't want to blow up London's docks. One small explosion in the hold will set the ship ablaze."

The first mate said skeptically, "Even if you supplied the gunpowder, it would be impossible to get it aboard. O'Toole has a day watch and a night watch."

Raymond pressed them. "Two quid apiece to demolish the Half Moon."

They shook their heads.

Raymond upped the ante. "Five!"

With a great show of reluctance Captain Bowers turned him down. "Wouldn't attempt it at any price. O'Toole's too ruthless."

Jack stood up. "You gutless cowards! I can get a man murdered for ten quid.

Any sailor on London's docks would take my arm up to the elbow for half that."

Jack Raymond stormed from the tavern in a temper and the bosun from the Heron soon followed.

When they were alone, Bowers grinned at his first mate. "If we tip off O'Toole, he'll double what Jacko offered."

Daniels, the bosun from the Heron, hurried after Jack Raymond before he could make a deal with someone else. Gunpowder was in plentiful supply since the war with France. The navy yards were stacked high with barrels of the stuff as well as other explosives. Reaching Jack, he tapped him on the shoulder. "I might be interested in yer proposition, mate. Pinchin' a barrel of gunpowder is child's play, but it takes b.a.l.l.s to light the fuse. Obviously yer men from the Swallow 'ave none."

"How would you get it aboard?" Raymond inquired.

"There's ways an' there's ways," Daniels said cryptically.

"Such as.'" Raymond pressed.

"I can walk aboard with the others if they take on cargo or supplies. Or I can blow a hole in the hull from the outside. I'm a bosun, hulls are my business. Failin' all else, I'll grease a palm."

"I'll give you five now; you'll get the rest tomorrow when the deed's done."

"I'll get it now, mate. Gunpowder is very tricky stuffa"it can blow a man to smithereens so 'e can't even be identified."

Jack didn't argue the point. He counted out the money into the bosun's hand.

Daniels spit on the money and smiled. The bosun knew merchant vessels seldom sailed to Dublin without smuggling some contraband. All he likely needed to do was wait. Under cover of darkness all barrels and kegs looked much the same.

Sean and Emerald strolled hand in hand through the pleasure gardens of Vauxhall. The promenades beneath the trees, illuminated by colored Chinese lanterns, were designed to induce romantic nostalgia in its jaded London patrons.

Paths laid out between flower beds, statues, and fountains led to various entertainments such as music, dancing, and sideshows.

They stopped to watch a Punch and Judy show and laughed at the cla.s.sic battle of the s.e.xes. Emerald added her voice to Judy's and called out, "Marriage is legalized slaverya"an inst.i.tution of bondage!" The other women in the crowd joined in, booing every time Punch opened his mouth.

Sean pulled her from the crowd, laughing. "You like to stir up trouble. I should have taken you to a prizefight."

"Ugh, I couldn't enjoy watching men b.l.o.o.d.y each other."

"It's not always men. At Figgs' in the Oxford Road they have lady sword fighters. They have to hold half a crown in each fist. If they drop the money, they lose."

"You're making it up," she accused.

"I'm not. Londoners are the strangest people on earth."

Emerald began to laugh. "You know, I believe you're right. Just look at these people. They're not here to see Vauxhall, they're here so Vauxhall can see them.

They are parading around on show, like actors on a stage. They're not wearing clothes, they're wearing costumes. Ridiculous costumes! All the women look like strumpets and the men like buffoons."

He hugged her to his side. "That's because they are strumpets and buffoons."

When they came to the refreshment booths, Sean insisted she try everything.

They sampled oysters, black peas, meat pasties, roast chestnuts, and plum cake and washed them down with ale and cider.

At dusk they found a secluded path that led to a private arbor, but after only two kisses their privacy was invaded by other amorous couples, so they strolled down to the river to watch the shower of fireworks. When they tired of the noisy crowds, a barge took them back downriver, where they disembarked at Tower Wharf. From there it was only a short walk to where the Half Moon was moored.

The docks were very poorly lighted, which was, of course, by design. More business was carried out under cover of dark than was ever done in broad daylight.

To add to the sinister atmosphere, fog rolled off the Thames, shrouding the vessels moored at dockside and obliterating altogether the ships riding at anchor.

"Is it far?" Emerald asked anxiously, clinging tightly to his hand.

He slipped a strong, comforting arm about her, drawing her closer. "Don't be afraid. The Half Moon is moored next to the India-man." The p.r.i.c.kling sensation was there again at the back of his neck. He put it down to Emerald's nervousness.