"But, Mademoiselle, the Anglais was our finest marksman. He could bring down a wild boar at three hundred paces." He toasted Winston with a long draught from his tankard. "Don't forget I had trained him well. We wanted him to fire the first shot. You should at least take pride in that, even if the rest does not redound entirely to his credit."
"Hugh, you'd better tell me the truth. Right now." She moved toward him, almost quivering with rage. She felt her hand close about the grip of her pistol as she stood facing Winston, his scarred face impassive. "Did you fire on the ship?"
"Mademoiselle, what does it matter now? All that is past, correct?" Jacques smiled as he strolled over. "Tonight the Anglais and I are once more Freres de la Cote, brothers in the honorable order of boucaniers." He patted Winston's shoulder. "That is still true, n'est-ce pas? And together we will mount the greatest raid ever—on the Spanish island of Jamaica."
Winston was still puzzling over Katherine's sudden anger when he finally realized what Jacques had said. So, he thought, the old batard wants to give me the men after all. Just as I'd figured. Now it's time to talk details.
"Together, Jacques. But remember I'm the one who has the pilot, the man who can get us into the harbor. So that means I set the terms." He sipped from his tankard, feeling the brandy burn its way down. "And since you seem to like it here so much, I'll keep the port for myself, and we'll just draw up some of those Articles of yours about how we manage the rest."
"But of course, Anglais. I've already been thinking. Perhaps we can handle it this way: you keep whatever you find in the fortress, and my men will take the spoils from the town."
"Wait a minute. The town's apt to have the most booty, you know that, Jacques."
"Anglais, how can we possibly foretell such a thing in advance? Already I am assuming a risk . . ."
Jacques smiled and turned to look down at the bay. As he moved, the railing he had been standing beside exploded, spewing slivers of mastic wood into the evening air. When he glanced back, startled, a faint pop sounded from the direction of the hill behind the fort.
Time froze as a look of angry realization spread through the old boucaniers eyes. He checked the iron ladder, still lowered, then yelled for the guards below to light the linstocks for the cannon and ready their muskets.