Page 48

T he next day, map in hand, Fonteyne walked the length of the Rodriquez Canal with a small group of Lafitte’s men and local townspeople.

Jean’s description of it being not much more than a dry ditch was generous.

The shallow basin, once used as an irrigation ditch, was clotted with weeds and brush.

The ground was uneven, the banks crumbled.

It was little more than a boundary line that marked the northern edge of the Chalmette-Villere Plantation.

It was as high as four feet in places, and as low as scattered clods of dirt where it ended a half mile short of the huge cypress swamps to the east. The many vulnerabilities were obvious.

With the lack of height, a strong leap could put a man on top of the earthworks.

British scouts would undoubtedly pinpoint the weakness where the wall dwindled to flat ground and the army could simply circle around and outflank Jackson’s defenses.

From there, they would have a clear path into New Orleans.

“We need to build this up,” he said to Rodney Lamb. “We need a stout barrier all the way from the canal road to the swamp.”

Lamb’s mouth gaped. “You’re talking near two bloody miles.”

“If not more. Which is why we will need a work force of men, women, children … Lafitte’s men, your men, Free Blacks, Indians …

anyone who can hold a shovel because it is going to be a damned huge job.

This—” he bent over and picked up a handful of dry dirt, “would never support our guns. We need proper breastworks reinforced with timber and clay, built high enough that when we dig out this ditch they will need fascines and ladders to get to the top of the ramparts.”

Beside him, Arthur Penman whistled softly under his breath. “You’ve discussed this with Jackson?”

“It doesn’t take a general to know we need to be above the enemy shooting down and the enemy unable to climb up to us.”

“Not quite the same as firing a broadside from a ship.”

“Yet not entirely different. We put gun emplacements every ten feet, fix the elevation to cover the open field, then unleash hell to discourage the pretty rows of redcoats when they march forward in their precise formations.”

“You sound as though you’re looking forward to it.”

“In truth, I never look forward to causing bloodshed. But I have no qualms against creating bloody havoc when I have to do so.”

He stood and glared at the ditch, the field, the enormity of work that lay ahead, then at the smattering of lights that were twinkling to life along the distant banks of the Mississippi.

Archie followed his gaze and smiled a little. “I thought I detected a bit of a chill in the air earlier today. Are you two quarrelling again?”

“The woman doesn’t quarrel. She hisses and spits and scratches.”

“She sounds like the perfect match for you.”

Fonteyne muttered and started retracing their path along the dry ditch. Aloud, he said, “She’s too damned eager to prove to Jackson she’s as good as any man in this fight. And Jackson is too ill and desperate to deny her.”

“She did manage to outfox you, which is a daring achievement in itself.” Penman reminded him gently.

“And she does seem to have won over the little pirate king. At least he hasn’t threatened to skin her alive for oh, six hours or so.

As for Jackson, he has the constitution of a horse despite the streaks he leaves in his britches.

I can get his dysentery under control once he starts eating proper meals again. ”

Fonteyne walked a few more paces in silence. “I suppose you are pleased and overjoyed that Billy Burr will be in the front line of gunners defending the river access?”

Penman’s smile faded. “Not at all. But there is very little I can or, indeed, would do about it. That entire crew has been a fierce fighting team since long before we came along. My suggesting that Billy step back, sit down, and let someone else command her guns would be met with such a depth of disdain I fear I would end up crushed like a roach under her boot. I warrant the same would happen to you if you told Rose she should find a cozy chair and pick up her embroidery needles.”

“I reckon he’d get that needle in the eye,” Lamb declared with a chuckle.

“Both eyes,” Penman said. “So he could be ‘sewn’ the error of his ways.”

Fonteyne turned and glared for a moment as the pair shared a snort of laughter, then shook his head and carried on walking, his stride long enough to eat up the distance and leave the other two fools far behind.

By the time Sebastien returned to the river, having spent an hour with Jackson recounting his findings along the Rodriguez Canal, it was near midnight. The Cygnet was still at anchor, but she was well lit from stem to stern and there was plenty of activity on board.

The Carolina had already departed to take up a position downriver with her sister ship, the Louisiana .

Billy nodded to Sebastien as he came through the gangway.

She was supervising the placement of the largest carronade he had ever seen on land or at sea.

It was a monster gun wrapped in a webbing of cables necessary to winch it across the deck, yet Billy was treating it like piece of delicate porcelain directing and maneuvering it into place.

Working alongside her, Duardo was stripped to a loincloth, his tattooed muscles gleaming in the lanternlight.

Rose was observing from the quarterdeck. Her shirt was a splash of white against the darkness beyond the rail, and when Fonteyne was finally able to catch her eye, she tipped her head in what he assumed was an invitation to join her.

“I’m almost afraid to ask where you came by that beast,” he said when he joined her.

“My father acquired it, goodness only knows where. Billy can hardly wait to test it, whereas I’m hoping the recoil doesn’t blow a hole through the deck. That hammering you hear is from the carpenters reinforcing the deck beneath with timber.”

“I didn’t come to disturb your preparations. I came to ask if you have any men you might be able to spare for a few days; we need them to work on the canal. Most of my crew will be there along with around eight hundred of Lafitte’s ‘volunteers’.”

“I heard the earthworks need a lot of work to rebuild. Billy would skin me if I sent any of her gun crews, but I can spare a score or two from the rest of the crew, so long as I get them back without too many blisters.”

He nodded. “Good. Thank you.”

She smiled. “Here I thought you were coming to wish me luck.”

He looked down at his hands, which had reflexively tightened on the top of the rail. “No. No, I don’t expect you rely too heavily on luck.”

He felt her eyes boring into him.

“That was almost a compliment, I think,” she murmured.

He resisted turning to look at her for ten or so heartbeats. “No need to think too long or too hard on it.”

“I fear I must, since it doesn’t happen too often.”

“My dear Captain St. Clare, I compliment you more than I have ever complimented another human being, man or woman.”

Her pale eyes twinkled seeing how uncomfortable such an admission was for him to make.

A moment later, he shook his head and laughed.

“By Christ, you are, by far, the most aggravating, irritating …” he stopped, took off his hat and threw it on the binnacle then grabbed hold of her wrist and dragged her into the deeper shadows behind the bulkhead.

He pressed her up against the boards and pinned her there, kissing her so thoroughly she had to gasp to catch a breath between each fiercely possessive thrust of his tongue.

Any resistance she might have tried to feign melted away as she flung her arms up and around his shoulders, holding on for dear life as her knees buckled and her belly slid in shimmering ribbons down to her toes.

When he finally broke the kiss, he kept his mouth a scant hair’s breadth from hers.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t like you sitting here so exposed on the river but not because I doubt your ability to hold off the entire British navy if you encountered them.

I just don’t like you being out of my sight for any length of time. ”

Her eyes caught little pinpoints of light and sparkled up at him.

“Have you always been so protective of your other women?”

Standing in the shadows, he looked as ominous as the devil himself, but his hands, when they cradled her face between them, were so gentle she could almost swear she felt the slightest of tremors in his grip.

“There hasn’t been any other woman who has managed to wheedle her way under my skin and into my blood like a damned fever.”

He looked like he wanted to kiss her again, but a familiar squawk drew his hands away as Stubb came up onto the deck.

“Captain? Belly-gun’s in place, solid as my arse, an’ Billy says we be ready … whup, ho!” He stopped short as Fonteyne and Rose stepped back into the light. “So that’s why ye’re not where ye were a blink ago.”

“Stubb—”

“Nay, nay,” he waved his hands dismissively. “I was sent to tell ye an’ I’ve told ye, so now ye’ve been told. Not my never mind ye’d rather grope ‘n fondle in the shadows like country bumpkins.”

Fonteyne looked like he might draw his sword, but in the end, he plucked his hat off the binnacle and snugged it on his head. “I guess I should go. If you can spare me those men?”

Rose nodded. “I will even send Stubb along, if you like. I’m sure he would be more than willing to share his vast expertise on the proper way to dig a ditch and build a wall.”

He noted the laughter in her eyes and the smile on the reddened lips he had so recently kissed.

“I would rather eat a bucket of nails.”

Rose followed behind as he walked to the ladderway, but did not descend with him to the main deck. She stood at the rail and watched him stride across the deck to the gangway.

There, he paused to exchange a few words with Billy and to take a closer look at the carronade, but then he was gone.

Hearing Stubb shout, her attention was drawn back to the men laying the rails that would support the Beast and allow for the firing position to be adjusted without the need for wooden wheels or bracing bars.

When she looked ashore again, there was no sign of the tall, devilish figure in black striding into the darkness of the night.