Jeremy could not conceal a grin; it was only a petty triumph to see the Scotsman humiliated, but it was a victory of sorts, and he enjoyed it. Yet when he found Caroline looking at him with that penetrating glance that made him feel she could read the innermost secrets of his mind, he hastily straightened his features. "You are very ambitious. Your Grace," he declared, "and although it seems logical that frigates of war and tens of divisions of troops would be sent from London to thwart your scheme, I am sure you've foreseen that eventuality and have some plan to counter it. Therefore, I shall concentrate on the immediate problem, my personal problem. You wish my help and that of my associates."
"That is correct, Master Stone. Serve me as I wish to be served, and there will be no limit to what you may become, no limit to the wealth and prestige and power you will accumulate."
Nodding, Jeremy placed his left hand behind his back, waist-high. Wi^h his thumb and forefinger he made a circle and hoped that Dirk Friendly saw and remembered the signal, which had been used by the gun-foundry apprentices when trouble was brewing in New York waterfront taverns. "And if I refuse, Your Grace?"
"Then I am afraid you will not leave this building alive." Caroline still spoke pleasantly, conversationally.
Jeremy leaped forward and around her as he replied, "I'm sorry to contradict you, Your Grace." In one sweeping motion he picked up Sir lan's pistol and flung it through the window.
With his other hand he pushed the baronet in the chest, and Sir Ian, who had jumped to his feet, fell backward onto the floor with a clatter.
Meantime Dirk and the two husky Maroons had sprung into action, had opened the door and somehow disposed of the two guards outside. The trio had a head start on Jeremy as they sprinted down the corridor, and the young gunsmith, following, was forced to hurdle the prostrate bodies of the Scots sentry and his boucanier fellow-in-arms. There were sounds behind him, but he did not look back. Later he recalled a snatch of something Caroline said, her voice as unperturbed as ever: "Let him go, Ian. How can one fugitive criminal harm us?"
Dirk Friendly's intimate knowledge of the geography of the Golden Bucket was put to immediate use, and by the time Jeremy caught up with him and the Negroes, they had started to race down the servants' staircase. Although they made considerable noise, no one approached them, and when they reached the kitchens they found the place deserted. At Jeremy's suggestion they slowed to a walk, and when they came out the back door, two evil-appearing cutthroats, obviously guards who were posted at that entrance, paid them little heed other than to nod curtly. These men patently thought that the roughly dressed quartet were members of their rebel force, and Jeremy and his companions did nothing to disillusion them. Returning the salutation calmly, they strolled to the end of the alleyway, and only when they were in the adjoining road, out of sight of the Golden Bucket, did they increase their gait.
Jeremy hurried on for two town squares, then paused in the battered entrance of a once prosperous shop that looked as though it had been looted. Dirk was at his side, but neither spoke until Michael and Gabriel caught up with them. All four looked at each other and grinned, then Dirk laughed loudly. "Jerry," he said, "ye had me scairt for a spell there. I thought ye was a-aimin' t' take on the job for her high 'n' mightiness. I don't mind a-tellin' ye, I was all set t' pick ye up 'n' carry ye off—until ye gave me the alert sign b'hind yer back."
Grave but exhilarated, Jeremy shook his head impatiently. "We can talk about all that later, Dirk. Right now there are things to be done. A great many things."
"Ye c'n bet yer boots on that. First off, we'll go tell Esther Mary "
"You can do what you please. I'm leaving at once for the hills. I'm going straight to Sir Arthur Bartlett and tell him the news of this conspiracy against the Crown."
"Ye're what?" Dirk stared at him incredulously, and both Michael and Gabriel gaped at him. The idea that a fugitive would go to the man who had ordered his punishment was incomprehensible to them.
Ignoring their reactions, the young gunsmith continued to speak hurriedly. "While I believe there is less than a good chance of Caroline and her scheming gentlemen taking over the North American colonies, there's no doubt they can cause considerable damage on this island. So I'm going to lay their whole plan before the governor general. I know it's a wild idea, but I'm going ahead with it. Call me a patriotic idiot who is willing to risk his neck to prevent an act of treason. Or call me a selfish madman who sees a chance to win a pardon for himself. It doesn't matter. But I'll tell you this—the brigade will call off the campaign against our friends, the Maroons, and will come scurrying back here!"
"Ye'll hang, Jerry, ye'll hang sure as ye were homed," Dirk declared grimly. "That is, if ye're lucky. It wouldn't s'prise me none if that there gov'nor sent ye back t' Death Island."
"That's the risk I'll have to take. Dirk." Jeremy's voice rang out. "I can't look at myself with much pride. I've done nothing commendable in a very long time. Well, I have my duty to perform, and nothing is going to stop me."
"I reckon if ye've a mind t' be a fool, I c'n be one too.'* Dirk's eyes were milder than ever, and his tone was deceptively soft. "I'll come with ye."
"Us come too." Michael joined the conversation for the first time. "Missie say us stay with you."
Jeremy regarded the huge Negro intently for a moment. "All right, Michael," he said crisply. "Come along, both of you. If we can persuade Sir Arthur to call off his campaign against the Maroons, you'll be doing your people a greater service than if you were up there at this minute with Arnold, shooting at soldiers."
The two Maroons were pleased, but Dirk frowned and was obviously ill at ease.. "We got t' tell Esther Mary 'n' get her approval b'fore we "
"I'm asking no one's permission, and that's final. Dirk! Michael, to keep our friend here happy, you go to Mistress Pennywell and tell her our plans. Then meet us in half an hour's time at Snell's Wharf on the back side of town. That's where I hid the dugout canoe I borrowed from the fisher-folk of Kingston Village. We'll use the boat to take us back across the bay, and we'll even return it to its owners. Do I make myself clear to all of you? Good! Let's be on our way then."
Chapter Sixteen
A STEADY, driving rain that began shortly after midnight turned the Liguanea Plain into a sea of sticky mud, and when there was no appreciable letup of the storm by dawn the troops of the Royal Army of the Caribbean were ordered to eat cold rations for their breakfast. Despite the grumbling, the soldiers realized that the command was a sensible one, for it would have been impossible to find dry firewood, much less keep a flame alive under the stew kettles. And so the men huddled under the dripping, soggy sailcloth of their tents, wrapped their wet capes more securely around their shoulders, and cursed the weather, their officers, the tropics, and the Maroons.
So far their campaign had been an abject failure. Five times the brigade had advanced into the jungles, and five times it had been forced to retreat ignominiously and at double tempo to the open spaces of the plain. The battalions that bore the reputation of being the best in the New World, the companies whose very names excited the envy of the French and the fear of the Spaniards were taking a decisive drubbing from savages and fugitives who were ignorant of the art of warfare and who were consequently unimpressed by the glittering, reputations of the units. Close to one hundred members of the brigade were casualties, but the elusive enemy, in so far as anyone knew, had suffered no losses.