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"Oh, stap me!" Brainard hissed with alarm. "More likely, our people are skulls adorning their bloody praos by now!"

"Goddamn French!" Ayscough spat. 'Trust them to take hands with those devils. Not just as allies, but friends!"

"Well, not for very much longer, sir," Twigg said, chuckling dryly. "I propose we strike the Spratlys sometime after mid-June. When Choundas and his piratical crew will be there. When the Lanun Rovers will spend the summer with him. We may catch them all in one fell swoop!"

"And just where is your pirate now, sir?" Sir Hugo asked.

"He left Canton in late November, Sir Hugo. As I told you, I suspect he waited downriver at Macao for at least a week or so, to see if we would pursue him. When we didn't, he most likely stopped in at the Spratlys, then sailed for the French possessions in the Indian Ocean. We have information that his first stop would be lie de France, to have a refit in the yards there. Those same yards service the Royal French Navy, I might remind you. His usual course of action, his modus operandi, if you will allow me"-Twigg sniffed loftily, but gave them all a brief smile to remind them that he was human, after all-"would be to sail on for Pondichery, where he would load a cargo of Indian goods destined for Canton in the fall. A cargo that he would land at the Spratlys, since the goods would prove a liability to a privateering cruise. He does not load opium, only run-of-the-mill wares that will not spoil during storage ashore. The opium comes from our ships."

"And he didn't sell any out of Macao, as I recall, sir," Captain Ayscough stuck in.

"Indeed not, sir," Twigg agreed. "Part of his innocent pose is to deplore the opium trade. And a man so high-minded as to forgo the profits of opium could never, ever be suspected of anything so vile as piracy, now could he, hmm?" Which set them all into ironic laughter. "Then, he and Captain Sicard of La Malouine would meet in Pondichery."

"To put the bulk of their combined crews into Poisson D'Or, so he'd be as well-manned as any royal frigate, sir?" Percival asked with a hopeful expression.

"Exactly so, Mister Percival." Twigg beamed at him like a fond daddy. "Exactly as you surmised. Right, then! Here's Choundas, waiting in Pondichery for Sicard and La Malouine to arrive by at least the first of April, but she won't this year, nor next year, either, ha ha! By mid-April, he'll have smelled a rat. What's worse for him, Sicard was to bring the profits from both ships to him. He lost no money by having his cargo confiscated by the Viceroy in Canton. Their arrangement with that particularly corrupt mandarin made sure he'd get full value from it, and give him freedom of action to boot. But suddenly, he's starved of operating funds. There's nothing to purchase a cargo with in Pondichery. No money to buy arms and powder for his piratical allies. And, more importantly, no ship such as Sicard's to serve as his cartel for all the loot he expects to take this year of our Lord 1785. We've limited his options to an early raiding summer. Here!"

"It strikes me, though, Mister Twigg," Lewrie spoke up, "that even the most valuable goods such as silver and opium take up a fair amount of cargo space. Surely, La Malouine could not carry all of it. If only a quarter of the booty ends up in Canton, there must be some other ship, or ships, involved with Choundas yet. If he has, as you say, a full, believable cargo stashed in the Spratlys for his appearance in Canton in the fall, where does the rest of it go?"

"A great deal of it would end up in the market at Sulu, sir," Twigg countered. "Brasswares, copper, Indian cotton goods, all of it would be just as valuable among the pirate bands as it would in Canton. No, it'll be Choundas on his own this year, I'll wager. Driven by desperation to take more risks than before."

"If he's any brains at all, he'll know the game's over, sir," Lieutenant Choate insisted. 'Time to lay low for a season. Or sail home for France and let someone else take over for him for a while."

"Ah, but he can't do that, Mister Choate," Twigg insisted.

"If he leaves the Indian Ocean, he loses everything he's built up out here. No rendezvous with the pirates in the Spratlys, say. Then what pirate would ever trust another Frenchman to keep his word? He'd not only be discarding his present alliances, he'd be ruining a chance for anyone who follows. The French Ministry of Marine who dreamed up his dirty business would never stand for that, oh no! Why, they'd break Choundas to common seaman if he simply sailed away. And, I don't think our lad is the sort to cave in so quickly. He's an ambitious little Breton peasant, a jumped-up fisherman who has no desire to end his days netting sardines in a filthy little smack. Pride goeth before a fall, and our boy has an ocean of pride. No, he might be late for the rendezvous. He may come empty-handed, but he'll be in the Spratlys by June."

"So we should get Telesto back to Calcutta as soon as possible," Captain Ayscough surmised. "After a year in Asian waters, and all that time idle in Whampoa Reach, we have to careen and bream her bottom. The weed on her quick-work looks like the Forest of Dean. Land our cargo, unload the artillery first, then refloat her and outfit her for battle."

"And be back here toward the end of May, to pick up Sir Hugo's battalion and escort the Lady Charlotte transport to the Spratlys," Twigg said bouyantly. "Sail into harbor, land troops and guns, and blow Choundas, his ship and any pirates clean off the face of God's seas!"

There was a lot of cheering that ringing speech. Cheers for a chance for action after festering at Bencoolen in sodden heat and agues, for final retribution against the hated French who had outmaneuvered them during the winter, for a chance that this whole affair would end and Telesto's flexible term of commission could end snug in some English harbor by early 1786. They would be two years away from friends and family by then, two years gone from their homes, and did not relish the prospect of a third.

Lewrie was not enthused, though. Troubling questions had their way with his imaginings. While he was most junior naval officer there, he knew he had to speak them aloud, before the conference ended. Later would look like croakum, and Twigg would not change his mind once they had settled on the plan, unless forced to, and afterthoughts would not be force enough.

"Excuse me again, Mister Twigg," he said, clearing his throat to draw silence enough in which to speak his piece, "but Choundas has had four months' freedom to refit. He's lost profits from this year's work, but there's no telling how much they earned the first two years. He could outfit another ship to work with him, hire a new crew to replace what he lost aboard La Malouine. And there's nothing to prevent him from already being in the Spratly Islands. We didn't peek in to see if anyone held the islands for his return, or if these Lanun Rovers were already there waiting for him. We have no idea what we're to sail into, really, and he has all the time in the world."

"Because I did not want to alert anyone who might have been in those islands until we were in all respects ready to strike when the basket was full, so to speak, Mister Lewrie," Twigg sneered in objection. "And, as I have just related, I have it on the very best authority that Choundas will sail to Pondichery first, waiting for Sicard to return and join him. That is his usual wont."

Twigg looked as if he'd enjoy picking up a "barker" and firing a pistol ball right through Lewrie's heart. The durbar had been going so wonderfully well, and his plan had carried, when up popped Lewrie with his morale-eroding carping!