Chapter Thirty-Six #2
She moved to Private Bartleby. As she unwrapped the bandage, she spoke softly of her knowledge that Hal Brown was no teacher, spoke beautiful French, and that it was probably he who lit the torches.
‘I fear Hector has told his suspicions of me to Madame,’ she concluded.
‘I’m certain they are related to Hal.’ She leaned closer.
‘I’m covering your arm with a mere layer of gauze, then I’m putting part of the bloody bandage on next, in case anyone checks to see if you have a wound. ’
‘Wise of you. Put several layers of clean bandage on top,’ he said, ‘although I doubt Madame will check.’ He leaned closer, his voice as soft as hers. ‘Does she suspect you know? Can you tell?’
‘I don’t think she does.’ She managed a smile. ‘She believes I am not so bright.’
‘Then more fool her. Be wary.’
She finished the bandaging, leaving off plenty of the old bloody bandage to take into the kitchen and burn.
‘There now, good as new,’ she announced as Madame Durand entered the sitting room suddenly.
‘Madame, would you throw this in the kitchen fireplace?’ she asked, feeling great satisfaction when the housekeeper recoiled and backed away, making some excuse before she darted down the hall.
‘That was successful,’ Anna said to the Marine. ‘Private Bartleby, what should we do?’
‘First, call me David,’ he said, which somehow calmed her mind.
He looked to the other cot, where the foretopman lay, propped up on his elbow, listening intently. ‘Any ideas, Whitlow? We could use them.’
Oh, these cheeky Americans. Billy Whitlow, foretopman and apparent rascal, folded his arms across his chest. ‘Private Bartleby, since you have no jurisdiction over me, I will confess that mine was a misspent youth. I stole and lied and raked around—beg pardon, Mrs Beattie—until my poor father sent me to sea, where I learned a trade.’
‘I’m relieved,’ the Marine replied. Anna heard the sarcasm. ‘Say on, you miscreant.’
‘I think tonight, when all is quiet, I will revert to my former trade and steal something.’
‘What, pray tell?’ Anna asked, almost—but not quite—entertained.
‘A sweet little sloop I noticed in Port Mahon when Captain Tyler brought us here. Here’s my plan: I will sail that sloop toward Mallorca, where, with any luck—and I might add that luck is all we currently have—I will encounter either the Swallow or the Hartford and tell them what is going on.’
He looked around, smiling beatifically. ‘We’re a rascally lot at times, we Americans.’ He added, ‘I wouldn’t trust us, either.’ His expression changed. ‘Know this: I’m not badly injured at all. Captain Tyler wanted me here for the same purpose as you, Private Bartleby.’
‘I’ll be damned,’ David said.
Billy turned serious eyes on them. ‘I will never let you two down, nor any one on either of our ships. Word of honour.’
‘And you have mine,’ David said. ‘I’d like to wring Hal Brown’s neck, but that can wait.
Can’t afford to alert the Durands. Ending dirty doings on Mallorca is the bigger issue, where the French are assembling an army.
We have to defeat La Guerre , but how?’ He looked at Anna.
‘Mrs Beattie? You have another thoughtful look on your face.’
Be careful, be careful , she wanted to say. Oh, my, do we dare? Surely they’ve already thought of this .
‘What, Mrs Beattie?’ David asked. ‘Your husband told me you have a fine mind. Nothing too audacious, though. We’re mere mortals.’
‘You might laugh…’ she started.
‘We could use a laugh,’ Billy said. ‘Say on.’
‘Perhaps you audacious Americans could be the bait,’ she said.
‘Oh, harsh. And…?’ he prompted.
‘When you find your ship, tell Captain Tyler to dock in the Swallow ’s slot.
I suspect the two torches will flare, no matter which ship is there.
Before he left, John told me he was going to sail close to the Hartford .
Before Captain Tyler sails here, he can alert the Swallow to sail into our private inlet in the dark of night. ’
‘A lot of whens and ifs there, Mrs Beattie,’ David cautioned.
‘If you have a better idea, speak up,’ she said sweetly, which made him wince.
‘After a night here, Captain Tyler can sail out at dawn from Port Mahon. Normally, that would alert Mr Brown to cross the inlet to light one torch, which in turn would alert the watching La Guerre that the Hartford is coming out. The Swallow will still be nowhere in sight, but hiding here, in the inlet. Oh, dear, this sounds most unpleasant…’
David Bartleby was smiling now. ‘Mrs Beattie, I believe you are a tactician worthy of Lord Nelson.’
‘Nothing so grand,’ she said modestly. ‘You see what your role is to be, don’t you?’
‘I am to snap Brown’s scrawny neck at St Matthew’s before he can light one torch to indicate the one ship he knows of is leaving.
Hartford will therefore sail out unexpectedly towards La Guerre , followed closely by the equally unexpected Swallow .
’ He laughed. ‘Our battle begins, two to one this time.’ David looked around, triumphant.
‘We will have the advantage of surprise.’
‘It’s complicated,’ she warned.
The three of them looked at each other. ‘Is it aye or nay?’ she asked.
‘Aye, Mrs Beattie,’ her heroes said in unison.