Prince Rupert and John Scott. Scott’s face was aglow with triumph – he was on a winning streak. However, it did not take long for Chaloner to determine that his success owed more to sleights of hand than to skill.
‘I should pull out if I were you, Lawson,’ advised Rupert, as more of the Admiral’s money went across the table. ‘Or Scott will make a pauper of you.’
‘I shall be rich again when I take Dutch prizes at sea,’ growled Lawson, indicating with a nod that Scott was to deal another hand. ‘God will give them to me, because He likes me smiting His enemies. Besides, no landlubber is going to bring
me
to a lee shore at cards.’
Chaloner suspected that Scott had already done it, and it was sheer bloody-mindedness that drove Lawson to persist.
‘Are you calling
me
a landlubber?’ demanded Rupert. The Prince was notoriously quick to take offence, so was something of a liability in normal conversations.
‘The
London
’s sinking was a sad business.’ Scott quickly changed the subject, clearly afraid that a row might stop him from winning the rest of Lawson’s cash. ‘I understand you had family on board, Admiral.’
‘I did,’ growled Lawson. ‘It was meant to be a pleasant jaunt from Chatham to Queenhithe, but they ended up with an experience they are unlikely to forget, poor devils. Fortunately, they can swim, so they survived. Unlike my poor mariners. Three hundred souls…’
‘I teach all my soldiers how to swim,’ said Rupert provocatively. ‘You should have done the same with your sailors, then they might still be alive.’
‘I understand you want the vessel raised from the seabed,’ said Lambe, as Lawson’s expression went from haunted to angry. The sorcerer was a figure who commanded attention, partly because he possessed charisma in abundance, and partly because of his height and striking attire – he was wearing his star-spangled coat again, and the inked symbols on his skin were dark and mysterious in the half-light. His entry into the discussion meant Lawson ignored the Prince’s shrewish remark.
‘
Weighed
, not raised,’ corrected Lawson. ‘And yes, I do. We cannot afford to lose a ship of
London
’s calibre, not to mention the fact that she carried eighty brass cannon.’
‘Brass!’ scoffed Rupert. ‘An antiquated metal for artillery. Iron is much better.’
‘Nonsense,’ countered Lawson. ‘They explode after two rounds, because they overheat.’
‘Not if they are turned and annealed,’ argued the Prince with lofty condescension. ‘I would never allow brass guns on
my
ships.’
‘
Your
ships?’ spluttered Lawson indignantly. ‘You do not have any. And what is this “turning” and “annealing”? Describe how it—’
‘I shall soon command a fleet,’ interrupted Rupert smugly. ‘The King promised. And I will be senior to you, so take
that
, you coarse northern upstart!’
Lawson responded in language so ripe that even Chaloner was taken aback. Rupert’s reaction was more vigorous. He sprang to his feet and whipped out his sword. Lawson did likewise and they circled each other like jackals. Lambe and Scott hastily scrambled to a safe distance, although Scott swept his winnings into his purse first. The sound of rapiers whistling through the air alerted Maude to the trouble; she raced in from the hall and began imploring them to disarm.
‘Help me!’ she cried, appealing to the onlookers.
Chaloner was about to oblige but Lambe was there before him.
‘Stop,’ he ordered in a voice that held considerable authority. ‘The stars are not right for a skirmish today. You will bring bad luck on yourselves if you persist.’
‘Stars!’ sneered Lawson, although he lowered his weapon. ‘The only stars I hold in faith are the ones you can navigate by. The rest is hocus-pocus, and only fools are led by such nonsense.’
‘They are a potent force,’ argued Lambe. ‘And if you do not believe me, look at Ferine. If he had followed the advice
‘I should pull out if I were you, Lawson,’ advised Rupert, as more of the Admiral’s money went across the table. ‘Or Scott will make a pauper of you.’
‘I shall be rich again when I take Dutch prizes at sea,’ growled Lawson, indicating with a nod that Scott was to deal another hand. ‘God will give them to me, because He likes me smiting His enemies. Besides, no landlubber is going to bring
me
to a lee shore at cards.’
Chaloner suspected that Scott had already done it, and it was sheer bloody-mindedness that drove Lawson to persist.
‘Are you calling
me
a landlubber?’ demanded Rupert. The Prince was notoriously quick to take offence, so was something of a liability in normal conversations.
‘The
London
’s sinking was a sad business.’ Scott quickly changed the subject, clearly afraid that a row might stop him from winning the rest of Lawson’s cash. ‘I understand you had family on board, Admiral.’
‘I did,’ growled Lawson. ‘It was meant to be a pleasant jaunt from Chatham to Queenhithe, but they ended up with an experience they are unlikely to forget, poor devils. Fortunately, they can swim, so they survived. Unlike my poor mariners. Three hundred souls…’
‘I teach all my soldiers how to swim,’ said Rupert provocatively. ‘You should have done the same with your sailors, then they might still be alive.’
‘I understand you want the vessel raised from the seabed,’ said Lambe, as Lawson’s expression went from haunted to angry. The sorcerer was a figure who commanded attention, partly because he possessed charisma in abundance, and partly because of his height and striking attire – he was wearing his star-spangled coat again, and the inked symbols on his skin were dark and mysterious in the half-light. His entry into the discussion meant Lawson ignored the Prince’s shrewish remark.
‘
Weighed
, not raised,’ corrected Lawson. ‘And yes, I do. We cannot afford to lose a ship of
London
’s calibre, not to mention the fact that she carried eighty brass cannon.’
‘Brass!’ scoffed Rupert. ‘An antiquated metal for artillery. Iron is much better.’
‘Nonsense,’ countered Lawson. ‘They explode after two rounds, because they overheat.’
‘Not if they are turned and annealed,’ argued the Prince with lofty condescension. ‘I would never allow brass guns on
my
ships.’
‘
Your
ships?’ spluttered Lawson indignantly. ‘You do not have any. And what is this “turning” and “annealing”? Describe how it—’
‘I shall soon command a fleet,’ interrupted Rupert smugly. ‘The King promised. And I will be senior to you, so take
that
, you coarse northern upstart!’
Lawson responded in language so ripe that even Chaloner was taken aback. Rupert’s reaction was more vigorous. He sprang to his feet and whipped out his sword. Lawson did likewise and they circled each other like jackals. Lambe and Scott hastily scrambled to a safe distance, although Scott swept his winnings into his purse first. The sound of rapiers whistling through the air alerted Maude to the trouble; she raced in from the hall and began imploring them to disarm.
‘Help me!’ she cried, appealing to the onlookers.
Chaloner was about to oblige but Lambe was there before him.
‘Stop,’ he ordered in a voice that held considerable authority. ‘The stars are not right for a skirmish today. You will bring bad luck on yourselves if you persist.’
‘Stars!’ sneered Lawson, although he lowered his weapon. ‘The only stars I hold in faith are the ones you can navigate by. The rest is hocus-pocus, and only fools are led by such nonsense.’
‘They are a potent force,’ argued Lambe. ‘And if you do not believe me, look at Ferine. If he had followed the advice
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