Against All Flags Page #3

Walked 10 paces, turned and

shot him through the head.

You mean they fought

a formal duel?

That's impossible, man.

Spitfire's a proud gal, sir.

Could have had his throat cut for

molesting her if she'd wanted to.

But instead, she asked for her

rights as a Captain of the Coast.

And it being the law

of the brotherhood,

there was none

that could deny them.

Satin Jack had to fight her.

Blew his head off,

she did, sir.

I suppose

you might say that

there was a man who really

lost his head over her, huh?

Yeah.

I'll thank you

not to fire those.

As you wish, ma'am.

Can it possibly

be 6:
00 so soon?

What do you...

I should like to have a word

with you, Mr. Hawke, in private.

Your servant, ma'am.

Perhaps it would be more

private in your private chamber.

Won't you sit down?

Why did you ask me

if it was 6:
00?

Because, ma'am,

surely nobody wears

a dress like that

before 6:
00.

Captain Roc brought it

to me from New England.

It's beautiful.

With other things.

I wanted to ask you if...

If...

If you knew

what this is.

Surely, ma'am.

It's a patch box.

What are they for?

If you care to sit in front

of the mirror, I'll show you.

A patch, ma'am, is worn by a

lady to point up her best feature.

The arch of an eyebrow,

the curve of a chin,

the line of a throat, the

roundness of her shoulder.

And why does she

do that?

Why, to attract the attention

of the gallants, naturally.

I should think that a dress like

this would do it sufficiently.

Yes, but not amongst

a dozen others.

Now, I should say that in

your case, let me see...

I think on the left cheek

would be the place.

Thus.

You see?

I like that.

My word on it, ma'am,

a lady attracts attention to

herself wherever she may be.

For instance, if she's

getting into her sedan chair,

she's always very careful to show a leg.

A discrete amount,

of course,

and it must never

look deliberate.

Everybody knows

it is deliberate,

but it must never

look it. Thus...

Try it.

Uh-huh.

Excellent, ma'am.

Excellent.

I've rarely seen better.

Then, when she's

dining at the Swan,

she always curses the waiter

in her loudest voice.

And, of course,

at the dances at Vauxhall,

she curtsies lower than anybody

else in the room. This way.

Try that.

Oh, no.

No, strap me, ma'am.

Sink back on your heel.

Try that all over again.

Way low.

Now, that's excellent. I

doubt if I've ever seen better.

The next thing, of course, is

when she goes to the theater,

her box at the theater,

she screams so shrilly

that not even the actors

can hear

what they're saying.

And at the

gaming tables later,

she laughs louder than

any other female present.

If she wins.

Of course, if she loses,

why, she puts her

little hands together

and pouts so winsomely

that, of course, you want

to give her her money back

to start all over again.

And what then?

Well, by then, it's late.

Well, it's about

2:
00 in the morning.

Late, and...

Pardon me.

My blunder, ma'am.

Of course, I was only

demonstrating, wasn't I?

You are a very

beautiful girl, you know,

and I was simply

carried away, ma'am.

You're lucky that

you weren't blown away.

I kiss when I feel

like kissing, Hawke.

And see that

you remember that.

Oh, I will, ma'am.

Now.

I said that I might

have use for you

when I knew that

I can trust you,

which isn't yet, Mr.

Hawke, by a long way.

But when you return,

I'll give you the Shark

for a venture

that I have in mind.

The Shark?

She's a brigantine

of 20 guns.

And now, perhaps you'd

better get your arms.

I'd deem it

another favor, ma'am,

if you'd do what you can for

Jones and Harris, my shipmates.

For instance, Harris might be very

useful to you for an odd day's work.

He's a fine

gunner's mate.

I'll keep them in mind.

And now I suppose

it's goodbye, Mr. Hawke.

Keep an open eye while you're

sailing with Captain Roc.

Oh, yes. Thank you,

ma'am. I will, indeed.

But I have a feeling

that the good captain

will be as gentle

as a mother's kiss.

After all, he can't

navigate back without me.

Your very humble servant,

ma'am.

You've been a Jonah

to us so far.

Cargos of spices, cocoa and

cotton is nothing to brag about.

You never know your luck till

the ball stops rolling, Captain.

Deck ahoy!

Ship five points

off the port bow.

Here.

What do you make of it?

Why that's...

What is it?

That's the Qutabuddin.

Aurangzeb's own

ship of state.

Who might be

this Aurangzeb?

He might be the Grand Mogul,

the Emperor of India.

She's heading out

for the Red Sea.

On a pilgrimage to Mecca,

doubtless.

Bunged to the hatches

with offerings, I'll wager.

Jewels, moidores,

plate, carpets!

Looks like you brought

us luck after all, cully.

Are you insane, Captain? You so

much as train a gun on that boat,

and you'll have John

Company's Army down here

and half the British Navy to

blast us all out of Madagascar.

Batten your lip.

Who's to know

if we sink or burn her?

The devil with Madagascar.

There's enough treasure

aboard that ship

to keep us rotten rich

for the rest of our lives.

Standby to man the ship.

Pirates! Pirates!

Memsahib! Memsahib! Memsahib!

Memsahib!

Memsahib MacGregor.

Memsahib MacGregor!

Silence, you hussies!

Silence!

Stop that screaming till I

can hear what Hassan's saying.

Pirates? You lummox.

Quiet, all of you!

What pirate would dare to harm

the Great Mogul's own ship?

Call yourself a man,

do you?

Come in here to terrify

these poor lambs.

Pooh on you

and your pirates.

The nerve of the monsters.

Unspeakable effrontery

of the scoundrels.

Stay where you are.

Princess. Princess.

What is the matter,

MacGregor memsahib?

Patma, my lamb,

listen to me carefully.

I will,

MacGregor memsahib.

Go into the

prayer closet.

Take off your pearls, your ring,

your robe, everything that shows

that you're the daughter

of the Emperor of India.

Hide them and

wear this instead.

You know I love you, me

lamby, so don't ask me why.

I will do what you say,

MacGregor memsahib.

Stay in the prayer closet

till I come for you.

Now, go,

and be quick about it.

And who might

you be, ma'am?

Who might I be?

I am Molvina MacGregor,

governess to these lambs.

And if you lay

a finger on them,

I can scratch your eyes out

with me own hands, Captain Brasal,

or whatever your name may be.

You will hang in chains with

the rest of your monstrous breed,

if it takes every man

in John Company's Army

and every ship

in the British Navy

to smoke you out of your

rat hole in Madagascar.

See, Captain, she took the very

words right out of my mouth.

Well, cast off and

be quick about it.

What do you intend to do

with these lambs?

Now, ma'am,

I don't mean them no harm.

They'll bring fancy prices

as lawful wedded wives.

Of course you've got

nothing to worry about.

And may I enquire

of you, sir, why not?

Set the torches to her.

Burn her down.

Close haul

the starboard lines.

Close haul our

starboard lines.

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