“Good old Commissioner,” Frank reloaded. “That will show the bastard whether we’re patriotic or not.”
“Take it easy, Frank,” Tom urged him. “We don’t have to play rough.”
“Tonight’s my night,” Frank said. “The Queen’s night and mine. Get out of my way, Tom, while I nail Brown’s dock.”
“He’s got gas on it,” Roger said.
“Not for long,” Frank told him.
It was impossible to tell whether he was trying to miss each shot to devil Roger and Thomas Hudson or whether he was really being bad. Neither Roger nor Thomas Hudson were sure either but they knew no one should be able to shoot a signal pistol with that much accuracy. And there was gas on the dock.
Frank stood up, took careful aim with his left arm down at his side like a duelist, and fired. The flare hit the dock at the far end from where the gas drums were piled and ricocheted off into the channel.
“Hey,” someone yelled from the boats that were tied up at Brown’s. “What the hell?”
“Almost a perfect shot,” Frank said. “Now I’m going to try for the Commissioner again.”
“You better damn well cut it out,” Thomas Hudson told him.
“Rupert,” Frank called up, ignoring Thomas Hudson. “Let me have some of that, will you?”
“Yes sir, Captain Frank,” Rupert said. “You got a cup?”
“Get me a cup,” Frank said to Fred, who was standing watching.
“Yes sir, Mr. Frank.”
Fred jumped and came back with the cup. His face was shining with excitement and pleasure.
“You figure to burn down the Commissioner, Mr. Frank?”
“Only if he catches fire,” Frank said.
He handed the cup up to Rupert who three quarters filled it and reached it down.
“The Queen, God bless her,” Frank drained the cup.
It was a terrific slug of rum to take like that.
“God bless her. God bless her, Captain Frank,” Rupert said solemnly, and the others echoed, “God bless her. God bless her indeed.”
“Now for the Commissioner,” Frank said. He fired the signal pistol straight up in the air, a little into the wind. He had loaded with a parachute flare and the wind drifted the bright white light down over the cruiser astern.
“Sure missed Commissioner that time,” Rupert said. “What’s wrong, Captain Frank?”
“I wanted to illuminate this beautiful scene,” Frank said. “No hurry about the Commissioner.”
“Commissioner’d burn good, Captain Frank,” Rupert advised. “I don’t want to influence you in it but it hasn’t rained on island for two months and Commissioner’s dry as tinder.”
“Where’s Constable?” Frank asked.
“Constable’s keeping out of the way of things,” Rupert said. “Don’t you worry about Constable. Nobody on this dock would see shot if shot was fired.”
“Everybody on this dock lay flat down on their faces and see nothing,” a voice came from back in the crowd. “Nothing has been heard. Nothing win be seen.”
“I give the command,” Rupert urged. “Every face is averted.” Then, encouragingly, “She’s just as dry as tinder that old place.”
“Let me see how you’d do it,” Frank said.
He loaded with another parachute flare and fired up and into the wind. In the falling garish light everyone on the dock was lying face down or was on hands and knees with eyes covered.
“God bless you, Captain Frank,” came Rupert’s deep solemn voice out of the dark when the flare died. “May He in His infinite mercy give you courage to burn Commissioner.”
“Where’s his wife and children?” Frank asked.
“We get them out. Don’t you worry,” Rupert said. “No harm of any kind come to anyone innocent.”
“Should we burn him?” Frank turned to the others in the cockpit.
“Oh, cut it out,” Thomas Hudson said. “For Christ’s sake.”
“I’m leaving in the morning,” Frank said. “As a matter of fact I’m cleared.”
“Let’s burn him,” Fred Wilson said. “Natives seem to favor it.”
“Burn him, Captain Frank,” Rupert urged. “What do you say?” he asked the others.
“Burn him. Burn him. God give you strength to burn him,” said the boys on the dock.
“Nobody want him unburned?” Frank asked them.
“Burn him, Captain Frank. Nobody see it. Nothing ever been heard. Not a word’s been said. Burn him.”