Rapscallion (40 page)

Lasseur
turned the coin over in his hand. "They're given the name because
smugglers use them to carry English guineas across the Sleeve to France."

Masson
frowned. "What do we French need with English guineas?"

"It's
not the guineas," Lasseur said, replacing the coin on the table.
"It's the gold."

Masson's
frown remained in place.

"The
Emperor needs it to pay our troops," Lasseur said.

The
room went quiet.

After
a moment Denard said, "
Our
troops?"

Lasseur
nodded.

Hawkwood
said, "You're telling us the British smuggle English guineas across the
Channel to pay
Bonaparte's
army?"

"I
told you, it's the gold that matters. It just happens to come in the form of
guineas."

"And
they
pay
them in
guineas?" "Occasionally, I believe. Otherwise, they're melted down
and re-minted."

Beaudouin
turned to Leberte. "Were you ever paid in guineas, Pierre?"

"I
can't even remember the last time I
got
paid," Leberte said. He stared at the coins with a wistful expression.

"What
about you, Captain Hooper?"

Hawkwood
shook his head.

Denard
stared at Morgan. His expression mirrored the questions that were obviously
racing through his mind.

Morgan
nodded. "It's perfectly true, gentlemen, I assure you, and it's been going
on for years. It's all part of the Trade."

"It
doesn't make sense," Souville said, looking equally puzzled. "Why
would the English do such a thing? Surely they realize they could be adding to
the length of the war, which means more of their men will die." He stared
at Morgan. "Do you really hate your country that much?"

Morgan
gave a dismissive shrug. "I don't judge it in those terms, Lieutenant.
It's not personal. It's purely a business arrangement."

Souville
shook his head in wonderment. "Then it is a very strange business
indeed."

First rule of commerce
, Hawkwood
thought, and was it any stranger than helping enemy combatants get back home so
that they could rejoin the fight?

Morgan
rewarded Souville with what could have been a sympathetic smile. "I can
see how you would think that. It would be interesting to put the same point to
your Emperor."

"What
do you mean?" Bonnefoux
asked,
his brow
furrowing.

"Do
you think it's only free traders who are running goods, my friend?"

Before
Bonnefoux could reply, Morgan smiled thinly and said, "Because if you did,
you'd be wrong."

"I
don't understand," Bonnefoux said warily.

Morgan
leant forward and fixed Bonnefoux with a piercing gaze. "What if I were to
tell you that, while you've been locked away on that stinking hulk and while
your comrades were lying

dead
on the field or being maimed by broadsides, English and French merchants have
been doing business with each other and making money with the collusion and
blessing of both our governments?"

Bonnefoux
stared blankly back at him, as did everyone else.

"And
I don't mean people like me, Captain. I'm not talking about free traders. I
mean legitimate men of business."

"What
are you saying?" It was Le Jeune who cut in.

Morgan
straightened. His gaze took in all the seated men. "Let me ask you this:
aside from defeating her armies on the field, what's the best way to bring an
enemy to its knees?"

"Attack
her trading routes," Lasseur's reply was instantaneous.

"Ha!
Got it in one, Captain.
And you should know, eh?"
Morgan raised a hand and knotted his fist. "It's like laying siege to a
fortress while poisoning the well. Do that and you'll squeeze your enemy
dry.
More than that; you'll stop them from generating
income. Bonaparte knows our strength lies with our Royal Navy. He also knows
that we maintain it with profits from our overseas trade. That's why he issued
his decree forbidding France's allies from trading with us. It was his plan to
bring us to our knees. Trouble is
,
we did for most of
his
navy at
Trafalgar. We also stopped him getting his hands on the Danish fleet in
Copenhagen, which is why he's had to rely on privateers like Captain Lasseur
here. Worked for a while, too; your privateers were damned effective. But then
our government decided to exchange fire with fire by issuing orders-in-council
that all neutral ships bound for France must divert to British ports. The
result was that both sides ended up suffering, which wasn't good because we
both still had men at sea and on the battlefield and equipping them is
expensive. Soldiers need muskets and musket balls and the navy needs ships and
cannon. What's to be done?"

Morgan
smiled knowingly. "Come on, gentlemen. Just because we're at war doesn't
mean we can't be civilized. You didn't really think a thousand years of trade
would end just because our generals are in a paddy, did you? Of course not;
which is why our governments, in a gesture of mutual co-operation,
agreed to issue special licences allowing some of
our
merchants to
trade with some of
your
merchants, even though we're at war.
It's been going
on for the past three years. You send us grain and brandy and fine wines, and
we send you wool, cotton and tin. While your friends have been fighting and
dying, British and French merchants have been growing fat on the profits - and
it's all been perfectly legal."

The
room had fallen silent. The food lay forgotten and untouched.

Morgan
spread his hands. "So, ask yourselves: who's the real villain here? At
least I don't deny who I am or what I do. In fact, we free traders operate with
Bonaparte's blessing as well. Why?
Because he needs us,
because he's after as many markets as possible for his goods, same as our
merchants.
That's why he's allowed our vessels free access to French
ports. He knows free traders have the contacts and customers legitimate merchants
can only dream of."

"And
gold's the key?" Hawkwood said.

Morgan
turned and jabbed a finger. "That's right, Captain Hooper. Gold
is
the key. It's
not brandy or cotton that keeps the world turning,
it's
gold. The value of a country's gold reserves determines its wealth. You
probably didn't know it, but back in '97 there was a heavy run on our banks.
The government was so afraid the country was going to run out of gold it
stopped all exports.
Ordered the Bank of England to stop
issuing it too.
The Bank Restrictions Act, they called it; a fancy
little title. Damned fools thought they could rely on paper money." Morgan
shook his head. "But we all know what that's worth when there's a war on,
don't we?
Which is bad news when you've an army and a navy to
fund.

"So,
British merchants started settling their accounts in gold. But they couldn't
export English gold, so they started buying in foreign. When that started to
run out, they dipped into our reserves, and that sent the price up, which was
when everything changed."

Morgan's
gaze grew more intense as he warmed to his subject. "Y'see, it didn't take
long for some bright bugger to realize that, if you buy gold in London with
British bank notes and sell it for British bank notes on the Continent where
gold fetches a better price, you're going to make money. And when we learned
that Bonaparte needed gold to pay his armies, we couldn't believe our luck.
With the help of our contacts in London, we started shipping him our English
guineas. Who cares if they're going to the enemy, so long as we're making
money?

"And
it's been doubly good for us free traders because, as long as we keep him in
guineas, Bonaparte'll keep his ports open for us so we can make him even more
money by stocking up on his brandy and his silks and all manner of fancy goods.
Everybody's happy." Morgan's face clouded. "Or at least we were,
until the bastard Excise stuck their oar in."

Morgan,
incensed, had forgotten his audience and had vented the last sentence in
English.

"Oar?"
Lasseur said, confused by the sudden switch.

"Only
stole our bloody boats, didn't they?"

Morgan
paused, realizing his slip. With a gesture of apology, he reverted to French.
"Government orders; all galleys in the south-east to be seized
and destroyed.
Dover, Folkestone, Sandgate, Hythe - there isn't a town
that hasn't been hit. They confiscated nearly twenty vessels at Deal. That's
the second time the place has borne the brunt. I was there in '84 when Pitt
sent the troops in. He wanted to teach the town a lesson on account of its
involvement in the Trade. They set fire to its entire fleet.
Burnt
all the boats in one night."

Morgan
shook his head in disdain. "And they wonder why Deal folk have a tendency
for rebellion. You'd be rebellious, too, if you'd seen
your
livelihood going
up in flames. By God, the government was keen enough to accept the help of Deal
men to bring the Danish fleet back to England back in '08 and to use their
galleys at Walcheren, and it doesn't object when we pass it word of what we've
seen and heard as regards Boney's activities. But if some poor bloody foot
soldier or
fisherman
tries to put food on his table by
bringing in a few tubs, that's a different matter. And do you think there's
mention of compensation for seizing and burning a man's boat? Like hell there
is!"

Morgan
picked up the coins and replaced them in the bag. Despite his display of anger,
his movements were calm and unhurried.

When
the last coin had been put away, he looked up and sighed. When he spoke, his
voice was steady. "I told you earlier it wasn't personal, it was business.
That's not strictly true. Those were
my
galleys they seized. I use them because they're not subject to the whim of the
breeze. They're swift and they're manoeuvrable and they don't need a lot of men
to crew them. A good team can cross the Channel in a couple of hours. Not
having the galleys increases the chances of the guinea runs being intercepted.
And if I can't deliver, Bonaparte will close off his ports, which means I'll
lose business. I've got customers, people who rely on me. I have
responsibilities; investors, who won't take kindly to being short-changed. My
reputation's at stake.
That
makes it personal." Morgan paused and then said, "Which is why you're
here, gentlemen. To hell with those bastards in the government; with your help
I'm going to teach them a lesson they'll never forget."

"How?"
Lasseur asked.

"By
giving them a taste of their own medicine.
They've taken from me, so I'm going to take from them. They think they've stopped
the gold runs. I'm going to prove them wrong. I'm going to get Bonaparte his
gold."

Hawkwood
said, "And you're going to do that, how
... ?"

"I'm
going to steal it."

"From the
government?"

"Not
exactly."

"Who
then?"

Morgan
smiled. "Wellington."

"Lord
Wellington?" Hawkwood said cautiously.

Morgan
tossed the bag of coin to Pepper, who caught it nimbly with his good hand.
"You know of another one?"

Hawkwood
ignored the riposte. "The last I heard, Wellington was still in Spain. How
are you going to steal
his
gold?"

"Well,
strictly speaking, it's the army's gold. It's to pay Old Nosey's troops."

"You
want us to help you steal gold from the British Army?" Rousseau blinked
behind his spectacles.