Pirate Latitudes

Scott gulped his drink and coughed. “Not I, sir,” he said.

Hacklett gripped his wife’s arm. “What price would you make?”

“Fifty reales.”

“Done!” Hacklett said.

“Robert!” his wife protested. “Good gracious God, Robert-”

Robert Hacklett struck his wife in the face, a blow sending her across the room. She collapsed into a chair.

“Now then, Commander,” Hacklett said. “You are a man of your word. I shall accept your credit in this matter.”

Scott looked over the brim of his cup. “Eh?”

“I said, I shall accept your credit in this matter. Have your money’s worth.”

“Eh? You mean, ah…” he gestured in the direction of Mrs. Hacklett, whose eyes were now wide with horror.

“Indeed I do, and quickly, too.”

“Here? Now?”

“Precisely, Commander.” Hacklett, very drunk, staggered across the room and clapped his hand on the soldier’s shoulder. “And I shall observe, for my own amusement.”

“No!” shrieked Mrs. Hacklett.

Her voice was piercingly loud, but neither man appeared to have heard her. They stared drunkenly at each other.

“Faith,” Scott said, “I’m not sure ’tis wise.”

“Nonsense,” Hacklett said. “You are a gentleman of reputation and you must uphold that reputation. After all, this is a consort worthy of a king - well, at least once worthy of a king. Go to it, man.”

“Damn me,” Commander Scott said, getting unsteadily to his feet. “Damn me, I shall do, sir. What’s good enough for a king is good enough for me. I shall do.” And he began to unbuckle his breeches.

Commander Scott was exceedingly drunk, and his buckles proved difficult. Mrs. Hacklett began to scream and her husband crossed the library and struck her in the face, cutting her lip. A trickle of blood ran down her chin.

“A pirate’s whore - or a king’s - can have no airs. Commander Scott, take your pleasure.”

And Scott advanced upon the woman.

…

“ MOVE ME,” WHISPERED Governor Almont to his niece.

“But Uncle, how?”

“Kill the guard,” he said, and handed her a pistol.

Lady Sarah Almont took the pistol in her hands, feeling the unfamiliar shape of the weapon.

“You cock it thus,” said Almont, showing her. “Now careful! Go to the door, ask to go out, and fire-”

“Fire how?”

“Directly into his face. Make no mistake here, my dear.”

“But Uncle…”

He glared at her. “I am a sick man,” he said. “Now help me.”

She stepped a few paces toward the door.

“Right down his throat,” Almont said, with a certain satisfaction. “He’s earned it, the traitorous dog.”

She knocked on the door.

“What is it, miss?” said the guard.

“Open up,” she said. “I wish to leave.”

There was a scraping, and a metallic click, as the lock was turned. The door opened. She had a glimpse of the guard, a young man of nineteen, fresh-faced and innocent, his expression bemused. “Whatever Your Ladyship desires…”

She fired at his lips. The explosion rocked her arm, and blew him backward. He twisted and slid to the ground, then rolled onto his back. She saw, with horror, that he had no face left, just a bloody pulp mounted on his shoulders. The body writhed on the ground for a few moments. Urine leaked down the leg of his trousers, and she smelled defecation. Then the body was still.

“Help me move,” croaked her uncle, the Governor of Jamaica, sitting up painfully in his bed.

…

HUNTER ASSEMBLED HIS men at the north end of Port Royal, near the mainland. His immediate problem was wholly political, to reverse a judgment against him. As a practical matter, once he escaped, the townspeople would rally around him, and he would not again be jailed.

But equally practical was the question of his response to unjust treatment, for Hunter’s reputation within the town was at stake.

He reviewed the eight names in his mind:

Hacklett

Scott

Lewisham, the judge of the Admiralty

Foster and Poorman, the merchants

Lieutenant Dodson

James Phips, merchant captain

And last, but not least, Sanson

Each of these men had acted with full knowledge of the injustice. Each stood to profit from the confiscation of his prize.

The laws of the privateers were solid enough; such chicanery inevitably meant death and confiscation of the share. But at the same time, he would be obliged to kill several highly placed members of the town. That would be easy enough, but he might have a bad time of it later, if Sir James did not survive unscathed.

If Sir James were worth his salt, he would have long since escaped to safety. Hunter would have to trust to that, he decided. And in the meantime, he would have to kill those who had crossed him.

Shortly before dawn, he ordered all his men into the Blue Hills north of Jamaica, telling them to remain there for two days.

Then, alone, he returned to the town.

Chapter 36

FOSTER, A PROSPEROUS silk merchant, owned a large house on Pembroke Street, northeast of the dockyards. Hunter slipped in through the back, passing the separate kitchen block. He made his way upstairs to the master bedroom on the second floor.

He found Foster asleep in bed with his wife. Hunter awoke him by pressing a pistol lightly against his nostrils.