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"I'm sorry-etched on a spyglass?"
"Aye. And not just any glass, mind you, but one Bill stole from Admiral Lord Nelson himself the night of the mutiny! According to that damnable Portugee, the location of the intended naval ambush was so secret, Bill had scratched the longitudinal and latitudinal coordinates right into the metal barrel of his glass. Now, since Bonaparte himself had a hand in the pla
"But how?"
"Therein lies the tale, don't it, Mr. Tolliver?"
I took a quick sip of my drink and said, "This Lord Hawke, it was he, wasn't it, who saved the day? I mean to say, I know he figured prominently in Cecily's account of the action."
"Begging your pardon, sir, but it was the boy who accompanied him who carried the day. A scrappy one, he was, only one year older than myself," the old fellow said, tilting his chair suddenly backward at a precipitous angle against the wall. He was now much excited by the telling, and I feared a tumble and broken limbs.
"Another powder monkey, was he?" I asked, scribbling. "Aboard the British man-o-war?"
Another long silence as he gathered his thoughts and sipped his ale.
"No, not young Nicholas. Lord Hawke's fair-haired ward, he was, came aboard at Bermuda with his lordship. Nick and me became fast friends soon enough, our ages being so similar. I was nine or ten, he was eleven, I believe. When we laid alongside that frigate after a vicious exchange of rippling broadsides, young Nick and myself secretly boarded the Mystere and found ourselves right into the thick of things, grapeshot and all. Never saw the like of such bloody struggle in all my years before the mast."
The old fellow was warming to his tale, waving a sloshing tankard of ale in one hand and a long thin bone of a pipe in the other. Somewhere, a ship's bell struck. The wee hours drew nigh. A fresh blow had rushed up to haunt the eaves, and the fire had died down somewhat, lending a discernible chill to the room.
"Please continue, Mr. Hornby," I said, getting to my feet and throwing another log or two onto the embers.
"Well, Nick had promised his guardian that he would remain belowdecks with me on the Merlin for the duration of the battle. I'd suffered a nasty head wound and was ordered by the ship's surgeon to stay out of things. However, a fire was raging below, one as was threatening the powder magazine, and it had made any notion of staying below problematical. So we sprinted up three decks and arrived topside only to find ourselves face-to-face with Snakeye himself."
"Snakeye?" I said, scribbling furiously. "First I've heard of him."
"A French pirate, had tattoos of snakes round his eyes and up his nose. Fearsome creature who was Old Bill's bloody right hand. He'd boarded us during the melee and he chased Nick and myself up into the rigging. We scrambled up our mizzenmast and out onto a yardarm. When the pirate followed, dagger in hand, we jumped. The two boats weren't more'n six feet apart and we both dived through a window opened on the French boat's stern quarter."
"This is quite good stuff," I allowed. "Then what?"
"Well, it was strangely quiet when Nick and me emerged from the aft companionway. We looked around Mystere's aftermost deck and saw that it was near deserted, save the dead and wounded. The ca
"Anyway, I looked aloft and saw the Union Jack still fluttering from our maintruck. And, the battle-torn French flag was still flapping at the top of the enemy mizzen, so I knew Old Bill had not surrendered. This, despite the volume of lead we'd poured into him. Nick and I each took a cutlass off a dead sailor and we crept for'ard and climbed atop of the pilothouse so as to look down on the quarterdeck unobserved. We inched ourselves along on our elbows until we could just peek down and see the action not ten feet below. The crews of both vessels were pressing aft, trying to get a glimpse of the fight taking place at the helm and-"
"The main fighting had stopped?"
"Aye. A great sea battle had come down to a two-man war. Captain William Blood and Lord Hawke were locked in a death struggle. What a sight! Old Bill was a spectacle, wearing what must have been magnificent finery, white silk breeches and a great flaring white satin captain's coat, but now all this flummery was torn and soiled with blood and black powder. He had Nelson's spyglass, all right, jammed inside his wide belt. Hawke had a terrible gash down his right cheek and his shirtfront was soaked with his own blood. Still, he had his left hand rigidly behind his back, fighting Blood in classic dueling fashion, but with more fury in his eyes than I ever thought possible. Another drink, sir?"
"Yes, of course! Keep going though…"
Hornby called out for another round and continued.
"Hawke parried Blood's wicked blows each and all and thrust his cutlass again and again at the darting pirate. But, despite Hawke's genius-like finesse with the sword, it was immediately clear to us boys that this was the fight of his life, as Blood brutally laid on three massive resounding blows in quick succession.
"'It's finished, Hawke-surrender!' Billy cried, advancing, 'There's not a swordsman alive who can best Billy Blood! I'll cut yer bleedin' heart out and eat it for me supper!'
"'I think you shall go hungry then, sir!' Hawke replied, slashing forward. 'No, it's the brave kidnapper of small children who's finished, Blood.' Then, in the nick of time, Hawke deflected with his sword a tremendous cut that would have surely split him to the chine.
"'Look!' Hawke cried, 'Even your own crew has little stomach left for you, Billy Blood. See how these Frenchies stand idle, waiting to see their turncoated English captain's blood run in the scuppers?'
"Hawke, in a dancing parry and lunge, laid on a powerful blow and a great clang of iron rang out over the decks. It was true. Blood's men had all fallen silent, weapons at their feet, watching the battle with rapt attention. Our own Captain McIver, having dispatched the last pockets of resistance on deck, had now ordered a number of our marines to keep their muskets leveled at the few remaining French who hadn't yet thrown down their arms, in case they had any rash notions of coming to Billy's aid.
"'Lying dog!' Billy screamed, his face flushed furious red. He charged Hawke then like a wounded rhinoceros, bellowing at the top of his lungs. Hawke raised his cutlass to defend the ferocious blow, but Billy stopped short at the last instant and spun on his heel, whirling his body completely around and striking with huge force at Hawke's upraised blade. The sword was brutally ripped from his lordship's hand and went clattering across the deck."
"No!" I cried, finding myself right in the thick of the battle. I took a swig and leaned forward, eager for more.
"Aye," Hornby continued. "A cold hand gripped our young hearts as we watched Hawke retreating, completely defenseless against that murderous scalawag, and stumbling backward, tripping over wounded men lying about the decks awash with blood until he fell down.
"At that point, a young Royal Marine leveled his musket at Bill's heart, but Captain McIver pushed his barrel aside, shaking his head. It was Lord Hawke's fight, win or lose. Honor dictated that he finish it.
"'Captain Bo