"Dirk! There are a couple of men behind us! They don't look like government guards to me -"
"They ain't." Dirk chuckled and slapped Jeremy on the back. "Ye've got sharp eyes, Jerry. I was a-wonderin' when ye'd take note of 'em. I reckon we'd better stop so we c'n say howdy t' 'em. Michael! Gabriel! Come up here!" He stopped short, turned, and bellowed amiably at the two grinning Negroes. "He knowed ye was there—faster'n we figgered."
Ambling forward sheepishly, the pair extended their right hands, and Dirk performed the necessary introductions. Jeremy gazed at them with interest. "I've been anxious to meet both of you for a long time," he said heartily. "I've been told how you saved my life and I've wanted to thank you. I don't suppose I'll ever be able to show you how grateful I really am, but "
Michael waved a huge hand. "Us no want thanks," he declared. "Glad to help. That Death Island plenty much bad place."
"This is no tune t' stop 'n' gabble," Dirk said. "We c'n talk later. If ye're a-goin' t' see the Duchess, let's keep a-movin' b'fore a patrol o' troops sees ye, Jerry—or we'll have a fight on our hands."
"But I want to say a word to Michael and Gabriel," Jeremy protested.
"Ye'll have plenty o' chance for that," Dirk replied calmly, 'They're a-comin' with us."
"What?" Jeremy saw the three exchange meaningful looks,
"Missie say us come," Michael stated flatly. "So us come."
"That's right, Jerry." The big American agreed. "Esther Mary says they're t' stick close t' ye right straight through. The lads have been grindin' their teeth a mite b'cause they're ordered t' stay here instead o' goin' up t' the hills where they could fight the brigade, so they'll be kind o' handy if'n a scrap o' some sort d'velops. They wouldn't mind a chance t' use their muscles on some red-coated soldiers."
Exasperated, Jeremy glared at each in turn. "But this is ridiculous," he sputtered. "I can't ask the Duchess to see me while three armed men stand guard over me!"
The silent Gabriel spoke for the first time. "Missie tell us," he said succinctly. "Us do."
"That's right, Jerry, m' lad. Esther Mary said how things was t' be, so there ain't no good a-gettin' all worked up. We're a-doin' like she told us." He took hold of Jeremy's arm and started down the road despite his friend's continued objections,
Michael and Gabriel again fell in behind, their manner imperturbable, and in a few minutes the strange little group arrived at the Golden Bucket. Although this was an hour when liquor was customarily being served, the usually crowded garden was empty and the street on which the main entrance stood was deserted. Somewhere in the distance there was a burst of musket fire, followed by a loud, insistent scream. Jeremy, concentrating on his own problems, was only vaguely aware of the disturbance. He stopped just outside the ornamental bamboo door of the establishment and turned to Dirk.
"For the last time," he asked desperately, '*won't you reconsider "
"M' lad, I'd do it for ye if n I could. But have we ever stopped t' figger that there might be more at stake here than yer neck, that maybe Esther Mary has asked us t' come along so's we could be sure the interests o' the Maroons won't suffer none?"
Jeremy stared at him for an instant. "All right," he said abruptly, "I suppose I can't be unfair to people who have treated me so decently. I don't see how you're going to be of help to the Maroons when I ask for Her Grace's intercession with the governor general, but I guess you know what you're doing, even if I don't."
He shoved open the door and walked into the inn, the others clustering close behind him. There was a conspicuous absence of people in any of the public rooms, but two men stood at the foot of the staircase leading to the private apartments above. One was a member of Caroline's party, a burly Scots guard, and the other was a thin, tall man who wore a boucanier belt and looked as though he had not washed in many days. Certainly he had not shaved in more than a week, and the grime was thick under his fingernails. Both were armed and stared at the newcomers suspiciously.
Smiling blandly, Jeremy sauntered up to them. "Good afternoon, Mason," he said to the wooden-faced Scot. "Where will I find Her Grace of Glasgow?"
The man recognized him but did not betray it by more than a flicker of interest in his eyes. "She's in meetin' oop there and is nae to be disturbed," he replied with a thick burr.
"But "
"Be off, noo!" the Scotsman snarled, raising a musket.
Jeremy reacted at once and moved so quickly that the man had no opportunity to point his cumbersome weapon. The young gunsmith drew his own pistol and, using the butt as a club, brought it down sharply on the side of the guard's head. Meanwhile Dirk wasted no time, and two tremendous punches toppled the boucanier. It was the turn of Michael and Gabriel now, and they moved with a grace and speed that seemed incongruous in men of their size. It was work of only a few seconds for them to rip the shirts from the backs of Caroline's private sentries; they tore the cloth into long strips and expertly bound the hands and ankles of the pair, then used the remaining material as gags.
"Thank you, my friends," Jeremy said with a faint touch of irony. "I begin to see that it is an advantage rather than a handicap to have you as my companions. Now, shall we try our luck upstairs? I've gone to considerable bother and traveled a great distance for this interview with the Duchess, and I don't intend to be put off."
He mounted the steps two at a time, and the trio of giants was at his heels. It was dark on the landing, but two more men stood outside the door of what had once been the sitting room of Jeremy's own suite. Again one guard was a Scotsman and the other was of the brotherhood of sea robbers. Both leaned dispiritedly against the wall, and they viewed the quartet without alarm, for they had heard no sounds of the commotion below.
Jeremy decided to alter his tactics and, letting his right hand ride on his sword hilt, he swaggered up to the men. "I am here for my appointment with Her Grace and Sir Ian," he announced grandly, and before either could reply he pushed open the door and walked in. Dirk and the Negroes followed, and Gabriel shut the door firmly after they had all entered the sitting room.
In front of an open window, leafing through a large pile of papers scattered on a table, were the Duchess and her chamberlain. Caroline was wearing a deep-necked violet colored dress of some flimsy material with several layers of starched skirts. Sir Ian was in his usual black, and despite the intense heat he wore a broad-brimmed plumed hat. Neither looked up at the sound of the door opening and closing, obviously thinking that mere attendants were coming through. They continued to study the papers before them until Jeremy cleared his throat.
"Good afternoon, Your Grace." He made a leg carefully. Caroline glanced up at the sound of his voice, and Sir Ian jumped to his feet. The Duchess, cool and immaculate as always, was completely unruffled by the unexpected appearance of the villainous-looking quartet. "Ah, Master Stone," she said in her clear, musical voice. "I've been wondering if I would have the pleasure of seeing you again. You have not disappointed me, though I dare say you encountered some slight difficulty in persuading my watchdogs to let you through to me."
The young gunsmith smiled and bowed again, meanwhile noting that his three companions had ranged themselves in a solid row just inside the door. "I have been known to be somewhat persuasive at times. Your Grace," he said easily, "and this has been one of those occasions."
Sir Ian MacGregor stood directly behind the table, a dueling pistol within reach. "You've left the Maroon country where you've been hiding and have come here with some of your bullies, I see. What do you want?" He made no attempt to conceal his venomous dislike for Jeremy, and his voice was cold and sharp.