The Black Swan Page #7

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Did you find out who the traitor is

who warned these men?

Oh, you're not so certain

anymore it's me, hmm?

I'm certain of nothing except

that I'll be murdered...

before I get out of this,

thanks to you.

We're not dead yet, my gal.

- You can't sleep here.

- I'm afraid I'll have to.

Are you very lonesome for Jamaica?

Don't shout when you answer me.

Yes.

And you still regard me as a beast

unfit for human society?

Yes.

And you're still in love

with Mr. Ingram?

I said, are you still in love with

that darling man?

Don't you dare come near me.

Don't worry, my gal. I won't.

Not until you call me Jamie-Boy...

and ask me three times.

Be careful how you wake me up.

I'm ready to repel all boarders.

Sweet dreams.

Shh! Keep still. You'll get

your throat cut.

Lie down.

What do you want?

I have come to offer me apologies.

Me oldest friend gets married,

and I forget...

to give him a wedding present.

It's off the Royal Treasurer.

She was on her honeymoon.

Thanks for the gift, Leech.

As pretty a sight as I ever seen.

Lawful wedlock.

There's nothing like it.

Now, that's a strange place to

stick a sword right over...

the bride's head.

Are you trying to make her uneasy?

Your presence is more disturbing...

to Madame Waring, I assure you.

Now, Jamie, you're talking different

than you used to.

I recall your trading me

a gal in Portobelo...

for two barrels of rum.

Of course, this one's better

and worth more.

She's all in one piece. She's got

two ears, no fingers missing.

Worth three barrels of rum.

Why don't you offer him five?

Don't tempt him, darling.

I might take it.

That's teaching her, Jamie.

You seem to enjoy subjecting me to...

every kind of embarrassment possible.

No, my sweet. Now, don't be a snob.

We're pulling close to

Maracaibo, Leech.

You're gonna be little good to us if

you keep laying your head in a...

bottle every night.

I'm beginning to think you're

right, Jamie-Boy.

I'm gonna need my head

more than I figured.

- Get out of this bed.

- Do you think it's safe?

You didn't have to get in here.

You're very ungrateful, madame.

I'm sleeping with a

pistol after this...

and if you come near me,

I'll shoot you.

Here you are.

I give you permission to

blast my head off...

if I'm ever idiot enough to come

within a foot of you.

Hey, Captain, where'd you go hiding?

- We opened another keg.

- Aw, get away!

I'm thinking.

Thinking? Thinking what, Captain?

I don't know.

I won't know until the wind's

blown my head clear.

- Where is he?

- Oh, Sir Henry!

Jamie Waring! Where is

that toad of a man?

- How did you come here?

- Don't mince around!

Fetch the deserter out

of his hiding.

Captain Jamie dropped off to

Port Royal for supplies.

- We've had no word of him.

- Well, I will give you word of him.

He left Port Royal with Denby's

puling child in a sack.

Stole her out from her home,

look you, like a red Indian.

What, Captain Henry?

I am sitting in me new wig

as lord of Jamaica...

when 100 foaming parents

come clattering...

and howling for me life's blood.

- They scuttled you?

- No, I cracked a dozen skulls...

and fought me way to the

waterfront with the whole...

of Jamaica heaving

stones at me...

and hid myself in a stinking

load of trout.

Hoisted sail that night,

and for three days...

I've been chewing raw fish.

Well, don't gape at me. Fetch me

some ale before I blow away to dust!

Get out of the way there, make

room for Sir Henry.

Uh, sit down, Sir Henry.

Do you think Captain Jamie has

deserted, or do you...

count on him coming to Maracaibo?

I am only praying that Lady Margaret

does not stab him in his sleep.

For I have my own plans for him.

Aye, I've dreamed them...

all the way from Port Royal.

The minute that drooling traitor

sets his nose into Maracaibo...

I am taking his innards out

and stringing...

them to the tops of his masts.

What about Leech, Sir Henry?

Do not call me Sir Henry.

Jamaica is lost, and

'my title with it.

Our only chance of getting them back

and keeping off...

the king's gibbet...

is to bring in the heads of Jamie

Waring and Billy Leech...

with Lady Margaret in good enough

repair to bespeak us...

as her saviors.

Post your lookouts around

the waterfront.

And wake me up at the first

sign of that wench-fancier.

- Are you awake?

- Yes.

- Can you swim?

- No.

That's too bad.

- Have you ever seen a sea battle?

- No.

Well, you're gonna see

one pretty soon.

A battle?

Then I'd better get dressed.

Don't look.

Me gal, I have other things on

my mind for the moment.

- Who will be in the battle?

- We will.

My ships, the Reckless and

the Lady Bess...

are waiting for me in Maracaibo now.

Why didn't you tell me?

You've been a little critical of me

ever since we started.

English ships.

Yes. Leech and his crew are

sailing into Maracaibo...

expecting to find a few cannon

and an old stone wall.

- Instead, they're finding 100 cannon...

- Stay as you are.

Don't move or I'll blast you!

Tie them up.

Have you gone mad,

you scurvy idiots?

Quiet!

- We're an hour from battle.

- I'll crack your head for you.

Put 'em down...

You lied to me about having a bride.

What else did you lie to me about?

Are your friends...

waiting for me in Maracaibo?

Friends? What friends?

I've signed with you.

Aye, signed and bound, foxy Jamie.

I'm sailing the Revenge into

Maracaibo myself...

under English colors, with

my own crew aboard...

and I'm blowing whoever's waiting

out of the water...

while they're still whistling and

waving handkerchiefs at you.

And what's more, I'm taking

the gal with me.

- I'll not go with you.

- You'll fare better with me...

than with Jamie.

I promise you. I'll marry

you fair and...

stick no sword over your head.

He's safer out of the way now.

No, not yet. We may be

doing him an injustice...

and if we are, I shall want

to beg his pardon.

But if we aren't, I'll wanna

do more things...

to him than stick him clean

with a sword.

Come along, my gal.

No! Let me go! Let me go!

Now, be quiet.

You'll have to wait till after the

battle for your wooing.

I promise you. If you

start screaming...

you'll get the flat of a

sword across ya.

It's the Revenge, sir.

What are your orders?

Let her come in and moor.

But if there's a gentleman called

Jamie Waring aboard...

- bring him to me, alive if possible.

- Aye, sir.

Look at him, bringing her in

like a fumbling lubber.

Forgot all he ever knew

about sailing a ship.

I can't make it out.

He's sailing queer.

He is love-crazy.

That's very obliging of them...

coming down...

to the shore to bid us welcome.

Steady. Steady her up.

Well, you may lock me up in a hole,

you varmints, but you

can't sit on me.

Here's to you. Bottoms up.

You bloody jackanapes!

- They ought to be taking in sail.

- Blue must be drunk.

Roast me alive! He's coming in like

he was going to blast us!

Ready! Fire!

Jamie Waring, that black-livered

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