FORTY-ONE

IN A MATTER OF DAYS RENEGADE WEIGHED, CARRYING FOUR MONTHS-worth of supplies: over five hundred barrels of beef, pork, flour and meal; seven hundred bushels of beans and potatoes; some forty tons of rice, fish, cheese, candles, soap, bread and butter; eighteen hundred gallons of molasses, vinegar, and lamp oil; and over six thousand gallons of rum. All this plus every orange, lemon, and pineapple that could be crammed into whatever space was available, which was quite a lot.

The big ship plunged into the Atlantic under a dome of blue sky fringed with puffy clouds like the white hair around an old man’s bald head. Jones had Renegade carrying every sail consonant with the eighteen knot breeze. He ran his ship according to the book. It was a taut ship, a good ship, not too harsh, not too lenient, a model Royal Navy ship. Admiral Davies had no worry for the men’s health or happiness on Renegade with Jones in command, for they seemed cheerfully accepting of their lot as underpaid, overworked, prone-to-death by broadside sailors. It was a remarkable testament to the average jack that he could find comfort in tedious routine, cheer in harsh conditions and endure ship’s fare that the average British citizen couldn’t stomach, hot or cold. In fact, Royal Navy tars could withstand almost anything, any deprivation except the loss of their tot of rum. Harsh captains who stopped a crew’s rum had been known to face mutiny.

Sir William Huntington-James had come aboard in the forenoon and Jones had seen him settled in his cabin—the first lieutenant’s quarters being made available for him—and invited him to dinner that evening. Jones was naive to intrigue and curious about what exactly Sir William did. And how he went about it. He didn’t expect to learn much but perhaps something would come out over wine.

Davies had shared the dispatch from the Admiralty with Jones, though he noted it hadn’t stated when the siege of Gibraltar was contemplated, or whether the dey of Algiers’ role was crucial. Davies expressed that it probably wasn’t, but it would certainly make things more difficult for the Royal Navy. Sixty corsairs turning their attention to British ships would make resupplying Gibraltar virtually impossible by sea given the scattered forces under the Admiralty’s command.

It took all of Great Britain’s armed cutters, sloops, brigs, frigates, and ships-of-the-line just to maintain blockades along the French coastline and bring pressure to bear on Bonaparte at sea. One more theatre of action would likely prove too much and stretch Great Britain too far. One had only to look at the outrageous treaties with the Barbary regencies to realize that if Great Britain had the ships to control the Mediterranean it would never pay to purchase peace. Every corsair would be sunk without quarter and every palace bombed to the ground.

The thought of Great Britain’s acquiescence to the Barbary pirates confused Jones, who knew nothing of world affairs, particularly a world so alien to his own. But perhaps he would learn a great deal at dinner with Sir William.

He paced the windward side of the ship and thought of his friend Nicholas Fallon, weeks ahead of him and perhaps even now through the Strait. No doubt Sir William would want to know exactly what Fallon intended in the Mediterranean.

The thing was, Jones had no idea.

Several days spent in Gibraltar getting provisions on board and Fallon knew little more than he’d already learned. The customs official seemed as confused as everyone else as to the dey’s intentions, but that was not unusual. The dey depends on the day, he’d said without humor. At a question about Zabana the customs official stiffened. He was, the official said, rapacious, literally living on prey.

Beauty was able to procure a longboat to replace the one blown up and Cully restocked the shot locker. Barrels of water and sacks of biscuit had also come aboard. In all respects, Rascal was ready for sea, except that the sea in question was the Mediterranean and Fallon had not yet settled on a plan for entering Algiers.

After a great deal of pacing the deck he decided to leave Rascal hove-to off the harbor’s entrance, flying the tricolor, and go ashore in his gig as a French privateer capitaine; well, being British was certainly no guarantee of safe passage. As far as he knew, the French were on good terms with the Barbary regencies and he spoke French well enough to fool all but a Frenchman. Once ashore, he would endeavor to find O’Brien or even the British consul and seek their advice. At all accounts it seemed wise to keep their mission a secret until he had the lay of the land. If the dey knew there was a fortune in gold aboard a ship outside his harbor Fallon’s options would considerably narrow.

He reviewed the plan with Beauty, Aja, Barclay, and Visser at dinner and no one had a better idea. Visser was noticeably quiet, and it seemed to Fallon that now that he was so close he was losing his hope, or perhaps he was just overcome with apprehension at what they would find in Algiers.

In truth, Fallon hadn’t a clue.

Zabana grew impatient for the return of Hasim and Rogers. They should have already sailed into Algiers with slaves, or at least with excuses, but the fact that they were not back didn’t worry him as much as it made him angry.

He was not alone. The dey’s good humor had vanished after the first corsair successes and the subsequent auction and he now sent a messenger to Serpent daily to ask when Zabana was going to leave his garden again.

So Zabana had gotten his ship ready for sea once more. Stores had been brought aboard and the beheading cart’s blade was polished and sharpened in full view of the crew as an instructional aid to discipline. At last the ship was ready to leave Algiers again and Zabana left his mistress’s warm bed and walked down the zagged streets to the quay. He stood for a moment judging his ship’s lines. She was full of stores and would need to be balanced just so to sail her best. Satisfied that Serpent looked ready for sea he boarded the ship from the quay and called all hands to make sail.

Zabana walked the deck as Serpent slowly gathered speed and soon sailed west into the morning, towards the Strait, for he wanted to see if there was any sign of his two missing corsairs.