“My cash,” Lord William demanded.
“Is safe!” Cromwell snapped. “And I have work to do before the Frenchies arrive.” He stalked off the deck.
It took a few minutes for the Revenant to catch up with the Calliope, but then the French warship hove to off the starboard quarter and lowered a boat. The rail of the French ship was thick with men who stared at their rich prize. All French seamen dreamed of a fat Indiaman loaded with valuables, but Sharpe doubted that any Frenchman had ever gained a prize as easily as this. This ship had been given to the French. He could not prove it, but he was certain of it, and he turned to stare at Pohlmann who, catching his eye, offered a rueful shrug.
Bastard, Sharpe thought, bastard. But for now he had other things to worry about. He must stay near her ladyship and he must be wary of Braithwaite, but, above all, he had to survive. Because there had been treachery and Sharpe wanted revenge.
CHAPTER 5
Sharpe went to Cromwell’s cabin as the Revenant was lowering the first of her boats. The cabin door was ajar, but Cromwell was not inside. Sharpe tried to lift the big chest’s lid, but it was locked. He went back to the quarterdeck, but the captain was not there either and the first French longboat was already pulling toward the Calliope.
Sharpe hurried back to the captain’s cabin where he found Lord William standing irresolute. His lordship disliked speaking to Sharpe, but forced himself to sound civil. “Have you seen Cromwell?”
“He’s disappeared,” Sharpe said curtly as he stooped to the chest. The large size of the keyhole suggested the lock was Indian-made, which was good, for Indian locks were simple to pick, but he knew it could well be a European lock with an Indian faceplate which could prove trickier. He fished in his pocket and brought out a short length of bent steel that he inserted into the lock.
“What’s that?” Lord William asked.
“A picklock,” Sharpe said. “I’ve always carried one. Before I became respectable I used to earn my living this way.”
Lord William sniffed. “Hardly something to boast about, Sharpe.” He paused, expecting Sharpe to answer, but the only sound was the small scraping of the pick against the lock’s levers. “Maybe we should wait for Cromwell?” Lord William suggested.
“He’s got valuables of mine in here,” Sharpe said, probing with the steel to discover the levers. “And the bloody Frogs will be here soon. Move, you awkward bastard!” This last was to the first lever rather than to Lord William.
“You will find a bag of cash in there, Sharpe,” Lord William said. “It was too large to conceal, so I permitted Cromwell … “ His voice tailed away as he realized he was explaining too much. He hesitated as the first lever clicked dully, then watched as Sharpe, holding that lever back with the blade of his folding knife, worked on the second. “You say you entrusted valuables to Cromwell?” Lord William inquired, sounding surprised, as if he could not imagine Sharpe possessing anything worthy of such protection.
“I did,” Sharpe said, “more fool me.” The second lever slipped back and Sharpe heaved up the chest’s heavy lid.
The stench of old unwashed clothes assailed him. He grimaced, then threw aside a filthy boat cloak and layers of dirty shirts and undergarments. Cromwell, it seemed, washed nothing aboard the Calliope, but simply let the laundry accrete in the chest until he reached shore. Sharpe tossed more and more garments aside until he had reached the chest’s bottom. There were no jewels. No diamonds, no rubies, no emeralds. No bag of cash. “The bastard,” he said bitterly, and unceremoniously pushed past Lord William to seek Cromwell on deck.
He was too late. The captain was already at the main-deck entry port where he was greeting a tall French naval officer who was resplendent in a gilded blue coat, red waistcoat, blue breeches and white stockings. The Frenchman took off his salt-stained cocked hat as a courtesy to Cromwell. “You yield the ship?” he asked in good English.
“Don’t have much bloody choice, do I?” Cromwell said, glancing at the Revenant, which had opened four of her gunports to deter anyone aboard the Calliope from attempting a futile resistance. “Who are you?”