reputation already. Certainly they will not suspect you.’
His calm confidence left Rackham in no doubt that he could carry out exactly what he had promised. Yet because the pirate had more of principle than was usual in his kind, he hesitated.
‘It’s dirty,’ he said bluntly, and Rogers was almost amused.
‘Pitch defiles those who touch it, but its mark is less permanent than that left by a rope round the neck. That is your choice, and, on my soul, if you can pause over it I swear you’re over-nice for your trade.’
Frowning, Rackham considered; then he shrugged. ‘It seems there is no choice. I’ll do as you say.’
Rogers nodded to Dickey to take up his pen.
‘Since we are agreed,’ he said, ‘where is your ship?’
‘Five miles out. She comes in at midnight. There are four of us ashore. Our boat is beached in a cove a mile west of the town, and we meet the Kingston a mile offshore, due north.’ Master Dickey’s pen flew over the paper. ‘We carry thirty guns.’ He paused. ‘What else?’
Rogers had been nodding at each point mentioned. ‘Where will you hide to-night?’ he asked, adding: ‘There must be a hue and cry when you break away from here: it were best if we knew where the patrols must not look for you.’
‘We’ll be at the Lady of Holland,’ said Rackham, and Rogers inwardly approved the choice. It lay on the west of the town, in an unsavoury neighbourhood, convenient to the cove Rackham had mentioned. A few more questions he asked and glanced at the clock.
‘Then the sooner we set about it the better,’ he said. He looked at Rackham. ‘Let me remind you that it will not be to your interest at all to attempt to cross me in this. You walk on a tight-rope, Master Rackham; slip, and I’ll see you swing by it.’
With that he turned to Master Dickey. ‘There is a guard beyond the window who must be removed. Bid the sergeant bring him round into the house. Wait; not yet a moment. First slip the bar from the shutters so that Master Rackham may have free passage.’
Dickey obeyed, like a man in a trance. This night’s work was proving too much for him. Life as he knew it was not like this, with no decent interval between thought and action. It was inconceivable that such a hare-brained scheme, so hastily considered, should be put so abruptly into operation; he had yet to learn that in the Indies prompt decision was not so much a virtue as a necessity, and that to pause for second thoughts was to delay too long.
He removed the bar from the shutters and laid it down. Rogers nodded towards the door. ‘Call him now. Perhaps it might be best,’ he added to Rackham, ‘if you upset my secretary’s table as you pass,’ and the pirate nodded. Dickey was past being shocked: it was all of a piece with the rest and his only concern, he told himself morbidly, was to do as he was told.
He went to the door and called the sergeant, and as the soldier presented himself Rogers issued his orders.
‘This man to the guard-room, sergeant.’ He indicated Rackham. ‘Bring your sentry from the garden to make an escort with the others. I’ll take no chances with this gentleman: he is Calico Jack Rackham, the notorious pirate, so look to him closely.’
The sergeant’s eyes bulged at Rackham, and then he was bawling orders in the passage. There was a clatter of running feet and then a voice shouted outside the house. They heard a musket-butt grate on the gravel, followed by the sound of the sentry doubling round in answer to the summons.
The sergeant advanced purposefully on Rackham and was within a few feet of him before the pirate moved: Dickey would not have believed that a man of such size could be so nimble. Two quick strides he took before vaulting over Dickey’s table, and then the shutters were flung back and he was away. With a bellow of anger and surprise the sergeant lumbered forward.
‘Stop, you! Stop, thief!’ He ploughed across to the window. ‘You, there, sentry! Damn you, where are you? After him!’ He flung one gaitered leg across the sill and tumbled over on to the verandah. ‘Shoot, you bloody fool, there’s a traitor escaping!’
They heard the sentry’s blasphemous exclamation and then a babble of shouts and orders with the sergeant’s bellowings providing the central theme. A shot rang out, and then another before the sergeant succeeded in organising the pursuit. Rogers and Dickey stood listening as the noise of that hopeless search grew fainter, and they were still waiting when the sergeant returned and reported that the fugitive was nowhere to be found.
Rogers wasted no time on recriminations. He ordered a general alarm and at his dictation Dickey penned a note to the commander of the Fort to set a company on the hunt. Rogers signed it and handed it to the perspiring sergeant before dismissing him. Then he sat back in his chair.
‘So far, very well,’ he observed.
But Master Dickey, who had a gift for essentials, was pondering an uncomfortable detail which had been at the back of his mind for the past half hour – a detail which, it seemed to him, should have been causing the Governor much concern. He cleared his throat.
‘Ye’ll pardon me, sir,’ he began, ‘if I find a fault – or what seems tae me tae be a fault – in this scheme of yours.’
Rogers looked up. ‘Tell me.’
Dickey nodded towards the window. ‘This pirate, Rackham, is only lending himself tae your plan for one thing: tae get a pardon and marry. What’ll happen when all’s done and he finds oot the truth aboot – aboot Mistress Sampson?’
Rogers frowned, then shrugged. ‘Why, what should happen? He can do nothing: he will stand in a very tight place, to be sure, for if one breath of what has passed here ever reaches his associates Master Rackham’s time will be up. Oh, granted he will conceive himself cheated, but he can attempt nothing against me, for he will know that I have only to drop a word and he’ll be a dead man. So he must stew in his anger, I’m afraid.’
Master Dickey pursed his lips. ‘You would be a bad enemy.’
‘I’ve known worse. And his hands will be tied. No, I do not think we should fret over Calico Jack. He will have his pardon, which is more than he deserves.’
Master Dickey frowned and sighed in turn. ‘I’ll be happy to see it by and done wi’,’ he confessed.
‘You shall,’ Rogers promised him. ‘We hold the cards, from the ace down, and among them is the knave. A Calico Jack.’
The Lady of Holland enjoyed the doubtful distinction of being the least noisome drinking-shop on the waterfront. Rackham had chosen it because the proprietor was trustworthy – his confidence having been obtained by substantial payment backed by coldly delivered threats – and because it was convenient to the cove where the boat was hidden. Furthermore, the approach of any search party would be heralded by swift warnings running through the alleys like tremors through a web.
He strode through the lanes with elation mounting in his thoughts. He was nearer now to his ambition than he had been at any time in the past two years, and even the knowledge that a hazardous and highly dangerous twenty-four hours lay ahead could not depress him. He had set out for the Governor’s house that night with only a vague hope, but now the way seemed clear at last, and barring accidents he could count himself a free and pardoned man. He had no doubt that the Governor’s scheme would succeed – he knew something of men and Rogers had impressed him as one who did not permit his plans to go awry.
And then – Kate Sampson: the thought of her could send a thrilling urgency through Rackham’s veins. It had been a long time: two years, two ugly, hard years in which he had given her up and come near to forgetting her altogether until that chance meeting with Hedley Archer when he had learned that she was still unmarried. Then, in a few moments, all the old fire had been renewed, all the old memories reawakened,