"What're you thinkin' to do about ordnance?" Skepticism permeated her groggy voice.
"I've got a batch of new flintlocks on the Defiance. Generously supplied to me by Anthony Walrond's trading company." He laughed. "In grateful appreciation for helping out that frigate of theirs that went aground up by Nevis Island."
"I heard about that. I also hear he'd like those muskets back."
"He can see me in hell about that." He was strolling back toward the bed, nude in the early light. She admired the hard ripple of his chest, the long, muscular legs. "Also, I've got the boys at work making some half-pikes. We've set up a forge down by the bay."
"And what, pray, are you expectin' to use for pikestaffs?"
"We're having to cut palm stalks." He caught her look. "I know. But what can I do? There's no cured wood to be had on this short a notice."
"Lo, what an army you'll have." She laughed wryly. "Do you really think all those indentures will fight?"
"For their freedom, yes." He settled onto the bed. "That's what I'm counting on."
"Well, you're counting wrong, love. Most of them don't care a damn for anything, except maybe drinkin' in the shade. Believe me, I know them."
"I'll give them something to fight for. It won't be like here, where they're worked to death, then turned out to starve."