Barney said, "You're neutral? There are two parties to neutrality."
"The verdom English," said de Graaf, "would not go to war with Holland, too." He thought a moment. "No. It would be too stupid."
Barney leaned forward. "Lord North," he said, "is stupid."
De Graaf thought this over. "True," he conceded in turn. "But—"
"But what, m'lord?" Barney blew out a cloud of smoke and thought about Douglass.
"No, it's impossible," de Graaf announced. "You've been away from the islands, for a few years—since '77. All are interdependent. British St. Kitts can't exist without maize from the States for its slaves. And so forth. But more than that, Barney. The British are hard pressed now; the fleet is too spread out. Do you suggest that they are willing to widen the war still further? Such a diversionary action might lose them the war on your continent!"
"I believe it would cost them that war," Barney said.
"And that would be agreeable to you?" De Graaf bit on his pipe.
"I'm an honest man, m'lord," Barney said. "We've been in this fight five years." He looked down at his hands. "According to intelligence given me by a certain Colonel Lucas, of the Austrian Netherlands, and a woman whose name I won't mention, I was told that England would declare war on you before the first of the year. It is now the end of January—just about time, m'lord, for the British
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fleet commanders to receive the signal to attack, to raise the enemy flags." He got to his feet and went over to the window. "The wealth here is fabulous, m'lord. It should be protected!"
"Barney," de Graaf said slowly, "we have received such reports for four years."
Barney turned. "I know it. That's why I put little credence in it at that time. But once more—the sight of Stasia—the bulging wealth. And as a tactical campaign, it recommends itself. For it is so damned important to us, that I am not so sure that a great many military men would not recommend its seizure. It will work incredible hardships on the French islands, which succor the French fleets. It will strike at the heart of American trade. And all our ammunition is transshipped here." He was frowning. "I passed a warehouse with literally tons of cordage. The British are crying for it."
De Graaf grinned. "Forget the British. You are in Stasia. You stay long?"
"Not as long as I'd like," Barney said.
"Now about this other matter, Barney, which you diverted me from. What happened this morning? The British resident has been crying in the antechamber for two hours."
"That is because the 'Falcon' is a rich prize. She's loaded to the gunwales with rum, spices, brandies, silk, jewels. She was stopping here before the run to England. I caught her. Johns, the British captain, surrendered after one shot. If he had really believed we were within port waters, wouldn't he have stuck to his guns? Risked getting shot up a bit? Waited for the fort to fire?"
"Clever," said de Graaf. He too rose. "I'll use that argument. If he were in close, he impugned my honor and Dutch honor by not depending on us." Then he smiled. "It's been a long time since I bearded the British."
Barney's mind went back almost five years. He could see the wash of the heavy seas over the "Hornet's" decks as she hoisted her flag and as the topmen took in the royals and tops. He could see again the many ships in the blue water of Stasia's roadway. Over the crying of sea birds, and the sound of wind in the rigging had come the first boom of a saluting gun. There had been thirteen of them fired —the first salute to the stars and stripes ever offered by a foreign power.
Barney took the hand de Graaf held out in a strong grip. "By God, sir, I shall never forget it."
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The Governor said, "I'll see you tonight, sir."
Barney made his way out slowly. At the big doors, he stood for a moment, absently, while he loaded both pistols and replaced them in his pockets. Then, shaking his head to offers of a chair, he struck out rapidly for the town.
His prizes had already been given into the hands of the auctioneers; their contents would go on the block tomorrow. That meant tomorrow night, at midnight, for the auctions were open till twelve —there was so much business to transact at Stasia—he could weigh anchor.
The uneasiness that bred in the back of his mind was subtle. The lure of Stasia was so apparent. He could sail at midnight tomorrow, and maybe it was the best plan. De Graaf's words were idle, Barney was sure. He wished there were something he could do about it, but the Dutchman was stubborn, and resisted advice. There should be batteries at a number of places; Barney catalogued them in his mind, for he knew the coastline well, and knew each bay even to its stretching fingers. Because of the high rocky walls Stasia could be made invulnerable; sweeping heavy fire could envelop an attacking naval force. As he passed under the shadow of Fort Amsterdam, and saw the heavy guns through the prickly pears, he was suddenly sure that he would sail tomorrow at midnight. He was passing the cliff wall, underneath the guns of this fort that overlooked Lower Town, when behind him he heard an imperative warning cry.
"Look out!"
Instinctively Barney ducked to one side. He was just in time to avoid the whistling blow of a heavy club, which grazed his shoulder and then fell to the ground. Its wielder was already showing his heels up the narrow tree-lined lane. Barney drew his pistol from his pocket, cocked it, raised it. He fired at the same time that the man who had warned him reached his side. Two shots rang out.
The smell of powder was acrid. Down the lane the man fell forward. Barney and his companion ran up to him. The man lay face down on the dust. From the sight of his striped jersey, it was plain that both bullets had found their mark.
Barney said, "Two good shots. Thank you for warning me, de Bouille." He leaned down and turned the man over. "Seen him before, sir?"
Francis de Bouille frowned and shook his head. The dead man wore gold loops in his ears. "Renegade sailor, hired assassin, Barney.
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Using a club because it doesn't make a noise or because he has pawned his pistol."
Barney said, "If I could get my hands on the man who paid him—" He broke off, loaded the pistol again, and shoved it back in his pocket while de Bouille did the same. "I was hoping you'd know him," he added.
De Bouille grinned. "We never use French spies, and the man looks French. However, de Borotra has a standing offer to these renegades. Probably fifty guineas on your head, Barney. Cheap."
"Go to the devil," Barney said. "When did you get here?"
"I'm paying a visit, Barney," de Bouille said.
"Having a good time?" Barney inquired. Then he asked, "How is Mr. Ross?"
De Bouille grinned widely. "I say nothing, Barney. I stop in his store once in a while."
"Let me ask you if you have heard anything about British designs on Stasia."
De Bouille looked surprised. "I need keep no grave face with you. We've heard nothing but the usual. What do you know?"
"War," said Barney. "From a Colonel Lucas."
De Bouille scowled. "Hungarian: I've met him in Paris. Not to be trusted at all, Barney; not at all, and not very clever, either. Probably carrying false information. Unless, of course, someone who really knows told him." He smiled a little. "We do know the English are up to something. Fleet's ready to sail; we hear to Martinique. Preparations have been made—but we may be wrong. Intelligence has been perfect so far this year; in fact it's been so damned good, and we fooled Rodney so badly last month, that he is going to be foxier than usual. Would you come in here—" they were passing a tavern the officers frequented—"and have a glass or two?"
"I wish I could," Barney said. "When do you leave?"
"I'm using native canoes this time. I leave day after tomorrow, at night, Barney. I'll see you in Martinique, then." He stopped, looked at Barney and then down the dusty street. "It's a far cry from Paris, isn't it?"