"Sorry 'bout that," Lewrie allowed. "Convey Capitaine Papin to his boat, um… Vappilation des votre bateau, Capitaine?" he asked, making Papin wince again, this time over Lewrie's lack of grammar, and his outlandish accent. "The Marie Doux, is it? Sweet Marie? Thankee. I shall know you and your boat in future. Perhaps…"
Lewrie gave the man a sly look, nodded to Aspinall to pour him a third glass of rum, and posed the question.
"I would appreciate an occasional bottle or two of good wine… perhaps a case at a time, as would my wardroom officers, I'm certain, Capitaine Papin," he posed. "And, as you say, lobsters and shrimp, a parcel of mussels or clams, are not your normal catch, but you could, are you reasonable, obtain such from the smaller boats to sell me. A decent brandy, hmm? American corn whisky, if you could get it, haw!" Lewrie concluded with a scoffing laugh at such an out-of-the-ordinary wish, as if asking for a slice of cheese off the moon.
"Ze 'Merican whisky, ze… bourbon, m'sieur}" Papin said with almost a wink, slyly scratching at his week's worth of grey stubble as if considering such a request, and what he might charge for it. "Mais oui, Capitaine Le… Luur… m'sieur. Ze 'Merican ships still come to Bordeaux… get pas' you' blockade, all ze time, hawn! You wish ze whisky, peut-etre ze 'Mericans sell d moi. Ze res', is tres easy to sell you. Non ze bank note! Mus' 'ave silver coin."
"Uhm… chickens?" Midshipman Mayhall muttered nearby. "Eggs?" "Ze lad wish ze fresh omelette, oui}" Papin asked with a greasy laugh of his own. "Difficile, m 'sieurs, for ze gendarmerie punish ze smuggler 'oo trade with you 'Bloodies.' See ze livestock be loaded on boat, et voild, I am lose my boat, and be in ze prison. Peut-etre, ze small parcels, hein} Non ze cow and sheep, hawn hawn hawn!"
"Lots of American ships up-river, are there, sir?" Lewrie asked, trying to sound off-handed and not too interested.
"Ze few, Capitaine," Papin replied, a sly smile on his face, and a brow cocked as if they were getting to the main trading points. "You wishing to know when zey sail, hein} Ze… information}" he added in a much softer, conspiratorial voice. "Peut-etre you wish to know of ze forts, ze navire de guerre} Warships?"
"Hmm," Lewrie replied in like voice, daring another sip of his rum, finding it easier on his stomach this time, and taking another. "That might prove… useful. For such, of course, one must expect to be rewarded."
"Oh, mais oui, Capitaine Lurr… m'sieur, hawn hawn!" Papin chuckled, in the fashion of a pimp or tout who'd just landed a customer to enter his brothel. "I 'ave nozzing to tell you now, but…!"
"Oh, but surely our ships will meet again, Capitaine Papin… soon," Lewrie said to that, a smug and satisfied grin on his face as they all but clasped hands and shook on the bargain. "Care for another glass of rum, sir?"
"Give me ze bottle," Papin insisted. "I curse you."
"Eh, what?" Lewrie asked, suddenly befuddled.
"Mes hommes see us," Papin said with a shrug as he accepted the re-corked bottle and tucked it into the large cross-wise pocket of his rough smock. "Zut alors, I curse you, I look like patriot. Zey will non mind I sell food an' drink, but ze information? Non!"
"Ah," Lewrie said with a nod. That was all he had time for, for Papin suddenly went into a ranting screech, like to pull his hair out, stamping about the quarterdeck, hocking up a glob of spit as he cried "Jamais!" or "Never!"… along with a rich store of invective about the English, poverty, Lewrie's doubtful ancestry, the piratical Royal Navy, syphilitic kings and queens, the Battles of Agincourt and Crecy, the burning of Joan of Arc at the stake, that thieving foutre Henry the Fifth, the English language, Anglican Protestant heretics, invaders and chicken thieves, and the filthy English habit of bathing too often! He concluded with a dramatic, arms-akimbo, aggressive stance so he could hock up another large glob of spit, and shout "Pawh!"
"Does this mean we won't get any fresh cheese?" Mayhall asked in a wee voice, which quite destroyed the spirit of the thing.
"Cheese, oui…plus tard. Later," Papin rasped from a corner of his mouth, looking like an actor whose grand soliloquy had been interrupted and ruined by an unruly drunk in the cheap seats.
"Au revoir, Capitaine Papin," Lewrie said, not sure whether to applaud, or laugh. " 'Til we meet again. A tout a l'heure."
With a final, broad obscene gesture, Papin went to the entry-port and scampered down the battens and man-ropes as agile as an ape.
"See him back to his boat, Mister Urquhart, and recall our men," Lewrie ordered. "And have someone swab… that, up."
"Secure from Quarters, sir?" Lt. Adair, the Second Officer, asked.
"Half the quarterdeck nine-pounders, and the carronades, aye," Lewrie decided. "I don't see any boats as large as Papin's out this morning, so the swivels, and muskets, would suit just as well."
"There do seem to be a fair number in the offing, Captain," Lt. Adair pointed out.
"Christ, we stop and search 'em all, we'll be at this 'til sundown," Lewrie said with a scowl. "No, we'll not waste our time on 'em. We'll hunt up Argosy and Erato first, and get the lay of the land from their captains, before we try on anything else. After all," he said with a chuckle, "they're the ones t'do the stopping and searching. We are here t'back them up."
"Odd fellow, this Papin, sir," Lt. Adair commented, as close as he could come to initiate a discussion of what had just transpired. "I… pardons, sir, but I would not trust him with much. He's French!"
"Well, as Commodore Ayscough and Captain Charlton told me last night, Mister Adair," Lewrie responded, quite pleased with his initial dealings with the French fishermen, "a great deal of useful information is had from the locals, once cordial relations are established by dint of paying good prices for their catches, then for their smuggled goods. The old Directory of Five in Paris, now Bonaparte, are bankrupting the country with their endless wars upon the rest of Europe. Their trade with the rest of the world is cut to the bone… our doin', that… and, I doubt ev'ry Frog is in love with the Revolution. This Papin, some of his fellow captains, may prove extremely informative."
Some shillings here, a guinea or so there, and these impoverished Frogs 'II most-like sell their dead mothers' hair! Lewrie cynically thought; fed up with war and shortages… sons conscripted, or already dead or crippled on battlefields from here to the Alps… why wouldn't they play spy, if there's some money in it, and get a bit o' their own back on the damned fools in Paris?
He was quite pleased with himself, all but rocking on the balls of his feet and whistling a merry tune. Oh, perhaps Papin couldn't deliver the best information, but surely he could come through on the wine, cheese, eggs, fresh-baked baguettes and boules… the bourbon whisky? If not Papin, some other of these fishermen, in almost daily contact with British warships, could. A cornucopia of fresh seafood, surely!