7

Wolfie, Liam and The Countess of Shropshire

The Captain led Steve and Wolfie through cobbled streets to what Steve would have called a café, but the Captain insisted on calling a coffee house.

‘Three double grande lattes with no extra sprinkles,’ he snarled.

The Captain adjusted his wig as he sat down at the table. He was waiting. Steve spoke, slowly and carefully.

‘This situation has to be handled with skill and intelligence,’ he said.

The Captain nodded, his brown brow furrowed, and his eyes went slitty and wily looking.

‘I’m with you, boy. We’ll wait for nightfall, we’ll sneak up behind them and then we’ll cut their throats.’

Steve ignored the Captain.

‘Wolfie is a musician,’ he said.

Wolfie nodded.

‘Not a very good one,’ said the Captain.

‘He’s been commissioned by a young aristocrat called Liam to write a beautiful piece of music that will win the heart of a beautiful young woman: The Countess of Shropshire.’

‘Shiver me timbers,’ said the Captain. ‘I’ve seen her in the papers. She’s a looker and no mistake. They do say she’s got more wigs and shoes than there are wigs and shoes in the whole of France and believe you me, those Frenchies like their wigs and shoes. I’ve never seen a wiggier or shoeier bunch.’

Steve interrupted the Captain.

‘The Countess has organised a competition between two rivals for her hand,’ said Steve.

‘Liam and Earl Mostyn must present her with a piece of music – the one she likes the best wins her hand in marriage,’ added Wolfie.

‘My goodness,’ said the Captain, draining his coffee. ‘I can see what the problem is – your tune is frighteningly bad, Wolfie. People would rather end their lives than listen to it. Whereas Earl Mostyn’s will be excellent. I’ve heard of him too. He owns a huge house just outside town, he’s got money, land and prospects. It’s a no-brainer. The Countess of Shropshire should marry Earl Mostyn. Liam is wasting his time. The fact that people say Earl Mostyn’s an obnoxious and precocious young buck who looks down on everyone he meets is of no consequence. Take the pirate’s way – follow the money. ’

‘We’re on Liam’s side,’ Steve pointed out.

‘Oh dear,’ said the Captain. ‘What can Liam give the Countess of Shropshire that Earl Mostyn can’t buy?’

‘A song,’ said Steve. ‘It’s a song contest. Liam and Earl Mostyn are going to present their songs to the Countess at 7pm this evening, down by the riverfront. She’ll choose whoever brings the best song.’

‘That’s where I come in,’ said Wolfie. ‘I write the songs.’

‘You see how important it is for Wolfie to practise? If he can’t get his song right, Liam will lose the competition and the Countess of Shropshire will marry Earl Mostyn,’ said Steve. ‘Now, Captain, do you know anywhere safe we can send Wolfie – he needs to practise.’

With a sudden movement the Captain pulled a dagger out of his belt and nailed it deep into the tabletop.

‘I’ve got the very place for a happy harpsichordist to hone his harmonies,’ he snarled. ‘Make no mistake, nobody will dare to disturb us where we’re going.’

They stepped warily onto the deck of the old ship. Above them fraying ropes and tattered sails flapped in the breeze. Below decks, fat rats groaned as the sound of boots on rotting boards broke their afternoon naps.

‘This is my old ship,’ said the Captain proudly. ‘The Black Dragon is in a sorry state. She’s rotting on a mudbank half a mile from docks. But what can I do? There’s no money in pirating today. You’re far better off investing in real estate.’

The Captain pushed the door and led the way into his old cabin. Steve and Wolfie followed. The room was furnished in just the same way as the Captain’s kitchen at home. Old rugs lay on the floor, dusty charts and rusting dividers were strewn over a large table and, on the wall, they saw another shark’s mouth – bigger than the last. The Captain nodded towards it.

‘Fell overboard on the Barbary Coast,’ he said. ‘Wrestled that one with one arm tied behind my back.’

The Captain moved to the side of the room and flipped open the lid of a keyboard instrument.

‘There you go Wolfie, try this. It was made for the King of Spain by the best craftspeople on the Spanish Main. Write your tune on that. Nobody but the rats will hear you playing out here.’

Wolfie ran his fingers up and down the keyboard. It sounded much better than the one he had at home.

‘Get writing,’ said Steve to Wolfie. ‘The Captain and I will be back in a couple of hours. We’ve got to speak to Liam.’