Harry needed as many men as he could muster. But he could not deny that his wounded deserved attention. With a genuine element of compassion he agreed. Make it so, Mr. Fairhairn. The boats are at your disposal, as a priority."

  Sutton spat out the leather strap from between his teeth, put there to stop him biting his tongue off in his agony. His voice croaked as he spoke. Not much use now, am I? No bloody arm. I can't be a dipper or a sailor! "

  Harry didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. He made his way to his cabin for the first time since the battle. It was in chaos and Pender had just started to clear it up. Papers lay everywhere. Harry saw that Broadbridge's chest, which had been in the coach, had been blown apart, scattering his bogus share certificates all over the place.

  "What do you want me to do with these? asked Pender, holding up a sheaf.

  Harry looked at the copperplate writing, and the inviting drawing of a busy, profitable canal. They'll do to heat the tar. Burn the damn things. And his chest."

  Pender bent down and picked up the pistol and a key. What about these?"

  Harry, tired and somewhat dispirited, was quite short with him. Do what you damn well like, man. Throw them over the side for all I care."

  Then he saw the key in Pender's hand as his servant turned to toss them out of the hole where the stern light windows had been.

  "A second, Pender. That's the key to the cabin door."

  "It ain't, said Pender, with genuine surprise. He looked at it closely, recognizing the heraldic crest on the grip. How the hell did it get over here?"

  Harry took it off him. Strange things happen in an explosion, Pender. Look at me, I was on deck, right by the bulwark, and I haven't even got a scratch."

  Harry walked across to the cabin door. He bent down to replace the cabin key, but it was still in the lock. He stayed bent, casting his mind back to Ma Thomas's inn. Pender, when we opened Broad-bridge's chest, it had a key in it. Do you remember?"

  "Can't say I do, your honour. I don't recall ever looking in his chest after I opened it."

  "It did, I distinctly remember, though I didn't pay it much heed. Harry stood upright and held up the key in his hand. His servant looked towards the door. So it's not the door key after all?"

  Harry took the key out of the cabin door, laid them both in his palm, and pushed his hand towards his servant. They were of a different size, but not by much. In all other respects they were identical.

  "It's not this door key, but look. Do you recognize the device?"

  Pender nodded doubtfully. Only cause I've seen it here in the cabin. I'd no mind to give it attention otherwise.~ "Did you ever get a look

  at the knocker on the door of Toraglia's villa?"

  His servant looked totally mystified, so Harry explained. It has the same crest as the key to this cabin."

  Pender and Harry looked down together. Both keys had the heraldic crest of a bird of prey taking a small mammal in its talons. What would Broadbridge be doing with a Toraglia key in his chest?"

  "Does it fit any of the doors in here? asked Pender, looking round.

  "Only the main door-has a lock, Pender. And look at them. They're not the same shape. They were made for different locks."

  "Well if'n it's the bloke who owned this barky, then he must have given it to him?"

  "They never met. I asked him about Broadbridge. He didn't have the faintest idea what I was talking about."

  "So where did it come from?"

  Harry was silent for a moment, as a whole host of thoughts filled his mind. Sutton's words rang in his ears. Did you know that Sutton had lost an arm?"

  Pender was surprised by the change of subject. Sutton? Has he, poor sod? Mr. Fairhairn had some hopes of saving it."

  "You said he was a good thief."

  "Aye. Very nimble fingers. But it's a dangerous game, that. You stand more chance of getting caught dipping than any other form of thieving. Stands to reason since you're standing right beside your mark."

  "He was a pickpocket?"

  "I thought you knew that, said Pender.

  Harry just shook his head, and put the keys in his pocket. Fairhairn wants the wounded ashore. He's going to set up a hospital in that dormitory. Let's leave this and muster who we can. The sooner we get them ashore, the sooner we can get to work shifting the stores."

  Pender gave Harry another wide smile. This being marooned on a desert island lark ain't all it's cracked up to be."

  They started the water out of its casks and pumped it out, lightening the ship considerably. Harry took a spell on the pumps himself. The three eunuchs had collapsed, not being used to performing any kind of physical work. But they'd shown concern for the casualties, and an ability to tend their wounds, being gentle souls, for all the nature of their trade. Harry had passed them over to Fairhairn to help run the hospital.

  The next job was back-breaking, for with few fit hands clearing the holds was punishing work. Harry couldn't remove everything, some of it would have needed a full crew on the capstan, but he shifted enough to satisfy himself that the Principessa was still reasonably sound. She had taken a nasty jolt, and some of her copper bolts were looser than they should be, especially in the forepeak. But he knew that given a complete hull she'd sail, though it was inevitable that she would take in a lot more water through her seams than she had before.

  They carried out a temporary repair on the gash in the hull, using a tar-covered sail. Harry righted her again, pumped her out some more, and had her hauled up the beach as far as possible, taking care to place her at low tide. Then, having shifted as many of the remaining stores as possible, he heaved her right over so that half her hull was out of the water. They beached the merchant ship beside the Principessa, at an angle to act as a breakwater, then started to cannibalize the timbers from her hull. It wasn't neat, for neither Harry nor any of his remaining hands were true carpenters. But it was enough, and they sawed and planed and hacked with their adze,

  sometimes up to their knees in water as the tide rose enough to flood the temporary staging, until the hole was repaired. Harry coated the timbers with several layers of tar, and four days after the battle, having worked every daylight hour, he was ready to float her off again. He waited until the tide was high. Not that it made much of a difference in the Mediterranean. But the extra couple of feet sufficed, for she was great deal lighter now than when he'd beached her.

  They eased her hull down, very gently, into the rising water, in order not to dig her keel into the sand. Harry had his fittest men in the cutter, with a cable to the bows, with the others aboard the merchant ship standing by to push with the capstan bars. As she started to lift he yelled an order. They began to push and pull like the devil, and with a sucking sound, the Principessa's head came off the beach. The water flowed under her stern as she righted herself, and quite suddenly the ship seemed to bounce and she was afloat. Those who had the energy let out a ragged cheer.

  He had everyone sleeping ashore in proper beds, though he himself used the storeroom, since some of the wounded screamed terribly in the night. The three eunuchs seemed tireless in their efforts to treat their charges, and they fussed around with buckets of cool water and sponges from the bay, dabbing at the sweating brows of the wounded men, and dosing them with herbal remedies of their own devising. In the evenings, after a decent meal, Harry had time to try and communicate with them, for there was nothing he could really accomplish in the dark.

  It was a slow process, which of necessity started with the word Bartholomew. It progressed from there, using sign language and drawing in the soft earth with a stick, through yes and no', to a graphic description of their home, which seemed to be somewhere on the Black Sea coast if their pointed fingers were to be believed. They drew a ground plan of a large building, some sort of palace, indicating that this was the place they'd come from. It had many servants and a powerful master. Mention of their master led them into some kind of joke which involved chopping motions with their hands around their mouths and their groins. When Harry had tempered their giggling he managed to establish that this master, whoever he was, had been dead for some time. Then it was the number of suns and moons to establish that they'd been on this island for the past two years.

  On the fourth night, Harry, for once wearing his coat, reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. As he pulled it out, the key that had been in there since the day of the explosion fell out also. One of the eunuchs bent to pick it up, and as he saw the crest, he beamed with pleasure. But his face froze when he saw Harry's reaction to the one word he'd said. Harry quickly composed his features, smiling again, as though the mere dropping of the key had been the thing to cause him annoyance. He took it back, made his excuses, and left.

  He went through to the hospital. Fairhairn had set up home in the eunuchs room, taking one of their beds so that he could be near his patients. He looked up at Harry as he approached, and the dark circles under his eyes, plus the stubble on his chin, made him look as he had when Harry had first clapped eyes on him. But the cause this time was genuine exhaustion, not opium.

  "How is Sutton? he asked.

  Fairhairn pushed his lank hair out of his eyes. He doesn't answer, Ludlow. It's not the wound. That is healing well, and he doesn't want for attention from your eunuchs. His spirit, or the lack of it, is killing him."

  Harry had seen a steady trickle of men returning to duty over the past few days, some seeming to make remarkable recoveries. He knew that he was in the presence of an exceptional surgeon and physician, and pleased that even at the low ebb to which his tiredness had reduced him, he had shown no desire to return to his former habit.

  "Have you spoken with him?"

  Fairhairn nodded.

  "Why is he so low?"

  "The man sees no future for himself. And can you blame him? If he'd still been in the King's Navy, he would at least been entitled to set up shop selling spiritous liquor. But he's not. He talks of Botany Bay, wishing that he refused the Royal bounty and gone there."

  Fairhairn rubbed a hand over his brow, then tried to squeeze the exhaustion out of his eyes. I have often noticed that in the criminal class. A compulsive desire to start anew.

  Harry thought how with his help Pender had done just that. He went and sought him out now, taking him away from a game of dice.

  "Sutton's all right deep down, your honour, said Pender, once they were out of earshot of the other players. Leastways, I think he

  "Then why did we have all that trouble with him?"

  "Not at first. I seem to recall he was willin'."

  Harry looked at the clear night sky. Yes. So do I. How honest is he?"

  "I told you, he was a thief."

  "Pender, you were a thief. I would trust you with everything I possess.

  Pender was slightly abashed, then smiled at the compliment. To my mind there're two sorts. There's those that does it cause they're too bone idle to do owl else, and there's others that refuse to buckle under. But they don't feel inclined to starve."

  "Sutton's not the type to buckle under. He would have left the ship alone that first day out. And I had a hell of a task getting him to admit to anything when I questioned him."

  "That's right. He came to thieving to avoid hunger, I reckon. Much like me. An like me, seeing he found he was good at it, he didn't see no reason to do any other work."

  "So if I offered him a place, say on my estates, you think I could trust him?"

  Pender was wary; he didn't want the responsibility, even although he knew Harry would never blame him. That I cannot say for sure. Just as I can't say if'n it's a good idea to go filling your property with villains."

  "Would you trust him?"

  The was a long pause. Reluctant he might be, but Pender wasn't the type to let a mate down. He'd regretted belting Sutton in Genoa, but that was a case of higher loyalty, and no time to mess about. And Sutton hadn't forgiven him for that, staying well out of his way ever since.

  "Let's say I'd be willin to give him a chance, though I'd keep an eye on him for a while."

  "So the answer is yes?"

  Pender nodded, but he made sure that it carried reluctance as well as agreement.

  Harry laughed, though he didn't have much to be amused about.

  "That, my friend, was like extracting a healthy tooth with my fingers."

  "It's not everybody that can afford to be certain, your honour."

  Sutton looked away as Harry sat down by his bed. He shook his head when his visitor enquired after him. But Harry spoke to the back of his neck.

  Harry decided he might as well start with a pure guess. The night we met, on that quay side where had you come from?"

  That brought his head round, slowly for sure, but round nevertheless, to look Harry Ludlow in the eye.

  "I wondered at Broadbridge making you his right-hand man. When I opened his chest. Sutton's eyes showed a flicker of reaction. I had Pender open it the morning after we found his body. As I was saying, I wondered at your position. After all, if Broadbridge was intent on being a privateer, he needed good sailors, not good dips. Then we found all those certificates he had. He wasn't a sailor at all, was he?"

  "That was plain enough, croaked Sutton.

  "What was he up to? Sutton didn't reply, so Harry continued. Those share certificates were no good to him in Italy. But they pointed to the kind of man he was. Is that how he got those guns? Did he persuade the Navy victualling agent to invest in one of his schemes? You said that you went ashore the night Howlett was murdered, to see Gallagher and get some more money. So that wasn't the first time Broadbridge had met him, was it?"

  Sutton gave a single shake of his head.

  "He had involved Gallagher in some scheme. One that cost the man dear. That would explain why he ran away. Admiral Hood said he'd absconded with the money entrusted to him to purchase stores. How much of that money had Broadbridge already dunned him for?"

  "How the hell should I know?"

  "Broadbridge was on his uppers, yet a few days later he was talking about turning the Dido into Fiddler's Green. What happened to elevate his spirits to that degree?"

  Sutton didn't reply. The night you rescued us from those men on the quay side had you been up to something?"

  Sutton still didn't speak, but he did turn to look at Harry. An odd direction to come from, that. That's not the place to catch deserters. You do that on the quay side or the beach?"

  "I don't know what you're driving at."

  Harry took the key out of his pocket. Sutton looked at it and tried to keep his eyes from showing any reaction. We found this in Broadbridge's chest as well."

  "So?"

  "So? It has the same crest as the key to the cabin on my ship. Odd that, wouldn't you say?"

  Sutton had become more animated, in fact near angry. Harry felt that this loss of listlessness was caused by his feeling threatened. Can't see that it was. He was after buying the fucking ship, weren't he."

  "Count Toraglia said they'd never met."

  "Then he must be a lying bastard. They all are in those parts."

  "The first night we went there, in the sedan chair, you seemed scared of something. So scared you avoided the duty the next morning."

  He turned his head away. Can't recall."

  "In fact, you've behaved oddly ever since. This key was in Captain Broadbridge's chest. The captain, dead, was in the cabin of the Principessa. But this key doesn't fit my cabin. It was made for another door, though for the same owner. You just happen to be a dip, a man adept at pinching a purse. I would reckon a key is easier to lift from a pocket than a purse. Especially from the pocket of a blind man."

  Sutton spun his head round sharply. Look. I don't know nothin', leave me be."

  Mr.. Fairhairn says that you're going to die."

  Fear filled the man's eyes at that. No one had said anything to him. All he heard were the normal sounds of medical reassurance.

  "He maintains that you're not fighting hard enough, that you've lost your vital spark, and that if you don't want to live there's nothing he can do for you."

  Sutton settled back on his cot, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes. What's to live for?".

  "I asked Pender about you."

  "I'll not say nowt against Pious, even if he did clip me one. You have a good un there."

  "That's more or less what he said about you."

  "Then I thank him kindly. Harry saw Sutton's eyes turn watery, then he blinked and turned away again.

  "He said that if I was to offer you a future, you could be trusted to

  take it, and not repay me by stealing my possessions. I have large estates and there's work even for a man with one arm. The offer is there if you want it, and if you live."

  Sutton was confused. He knew he'd caused Harry a lot of trouble. Why?"

  "Because I want to know certain things, or perhaps I just need them confirmed. You'd been to the Toraglia villa before. You were involved in some scheme with Broadbridge to make money, and it wasn't out of sailing as a privateer. The source of funds from Gallagher had dried up, but he found something else to provide his keep. He was a crimp, and you were to be his accomplice."

  Harry held up the key. I asked where you came from the night you rescued us. You'd been somewhere in the town. Was it to try this perhaps, and see if it fitted? Or did you already know the answer to that? What was the idea? Did you plan to rob a blind man? Or was it something to do with the syndicate?"

  That scared him. He pushed himself on to his elbows and glared at Harry. How do you know all this? Not that I'm saying you're right, mind."

  "Because I just dropped this key next door. I was with the eunuchs, and one of them picked it up. He recognized it right away."

  "So he recognized it. They can't tell you anything, they don't speak English."

  "They speak enough, Sutton. Just enough. You see when he picked it up, he said the one word he does know."

  "What's that?"

  "He said Bartholomew. Is that where you got it from?"