The Sot-Weed Factor (26 page)

"Your servant, Captain Scurry," said Captain Slye. "Inside with ye, Cooke, or my ball's in thy belly."

But Ebenezer could not move. At length, belting their pistols as unnecessary, his fearsome escorts took each an elbow and propelled him, half a-swoon, to the rear door of the ordinary.

"For God's sake spare me!" he croaked, his eyes shut fast.

" 'Tis not that gentleman can do't," said one of his captors. "The man we're fetching ye to is the man to dicker with."

They entered into a kind of pantry or storage room, and one of his captors -- the one called Slye -- went ahead to open another door, which led into the steamy kitchen of the King o' the Seas.

"Ahoy, John Coode!" he bellowed. "We've caught ye your poet!"

Ebenezer then was given such a push from behind that he slipped on the greasy tiles and fell asprawl beside a round table in the center of the room, directly at the feet of the man who sat there. Everyone laughed: Captain Scurry, who had pushed him; Captain Slye, who stood nearby; some woman whom, since her feet dangled just before his eyes, Ebenezer judged to be sitting in Coode's lap; and Coode himself. Tremblingly the poet looked up and saw that the woman was the fickle Dolly, who sat with her arms about the archfiend's neck.

Then, as fearfully as though expecting Lucifer himself, he turned his eyes to John Coode. What he saw was, if rather less horrendous, not a whit less astonishing: the smiling face of Henry Burlingame.

and Boards the
Poseidon

"Henry!"

His friend's smile vanished. He pushed the barmaid off his lap, sprang scowling to his feet, and pulled Ebenezer up by his shirtfront.

"You blockhead!" he said angrily, before the poet could say more. "Who gave ye leave to sneak about the stables? I told ye to scour the docks for that fool poet!"

Ebenezer was too surprised to speak.

"This is my man Henry Cook," Burlingame said to the black captains. "Can ye not tell a poet from a common servant?"

"Your man?" cried Captain Scurry. "I'faith, 'tis the same shitten puppy was annoying us this morning -- is't not, Captain Slye?"

"Aye and it is," said Captain Slye. "What's more, he was scribbling in that very book there, that ye claim is the poet's."

Burlingame turned on Ebenezer again, raising his hand. "I've a mind to box thy lazy ears! Idling in a tavern when I ordered ye to the docks! Small wonder the Laureate escaped us! How came ye by the notebook?" he demanded, and when Ebenezer (though he began to comprehend that his friend was protecting him) was unable to think of a reply, added, "I suppose ye found it among our man's baggage on the wharf and marked it a find worth drinking to?"

"Aye," Ebenezer managed to say. "That is -- aye."

"Ah God, what a lout!" Burlingame declared to the others. "Every minute at the bottle, and he holds his rum no better than an altar-boy. I suppose ye took ill of't, then" -- he sneered at Ebenezer -- "and puked out your belly in the stable?"

The poet nodded and, daring finally to trust his voice, he asserted, "I woke but an hour past and ran to the wharf, but the Laureate's trunk was gone. Then I remembered I'd left the notebook in the stable and came to fetch it."

Burlingame threw up his hands to the captains as in despair. "And to you this wretch hath the look of Maryland's Laureate? I am surrounded by fools! Fetch us two drams and something to eat, Dolly," he ordered, "and all of you begone save my precious addlepate here. I've words for him."

Captain Slye and Captain Scurry exited crestfallen, and Dolly, who had attended the whole scene indifferently, went out to pour the drinks. Ebenezer fairly collapsed into a chair and clutched at Burlingame's coat sleeve.

"Dear God!" he whispered. "What is this all about? Why is't you pose as Coode, and why leave me shivering all day in the stable?"

"Softly," Henry warned, looking over his shoulder. " 'Tis a ticklish spot we're in, albeit a useful one. Have faith in me: I shall lay it open plainly when I can."

The barmaid returned with two glasses of rum and a plate of cold veal. "Send Slye and Scurry to the wharf," he directed her, "and tell them I'll be on the
Morpheides
by sundown."

"Can you trust her?" Ebenezer asked when she had gone. "Surely she knows thou'rt not John Coode, after this morning."

Burlingame smiled. "She knows her part. Fall to, now, and I'll tell you yours."

Ebenezer did as advised -- he'd had no food all day -- and was somewhat calmed by the rum, which, however, made him shudder. Burlingame peered through a crack in the door leading into the main hall of the King o' the Seas, and apparently satisfied that none could overhear, explained his position thus:

"Directly I left you this morning I went straightway to the dock to fetch fresh breeches, pondering all the while what you had told me of the two pirate captains. 'Twas my surmise they were no pirates, the more for that 'twas you they sought -- what use would a pirate have for a poet? Yet, from your picture of them, their manner and their quest, I had another thought, no less alarming, which I soon saw to be the truth. Your two black scoundrels were there on the very dock where stood our chests, and I knew them at once for Slye and Scurry, two smugglers that have worked for Coode before. 'Twas clear Coode knew of your appointment and meant you no good, though what his motives were I could but guess; 'twas clear as well your hunters did not know their quarry's face and could be lightly gulled. They were speaking with the lad that sails the shallop; I made bold to crouch behind our trunks and heard the ferryman say that you and your companion were in the King o' the Seas -- happily I'd given him no name. Slye said 'twas impossible, inasmuch as but a short time since they'd been in the King o' the Seas, and had run out on seeing their victim in the street but had lost him."

"Aye, just so," Ebenezer said. " 'Tis the last thing I recall. But whom they spied I cannot guess."

"Nor could I. Yet the ferryman held to his story, and at length Slye proposed another search of the tavern. But Scurry protested 'twas time to fetch John Coode from off the fleet."

"Coode aboard the fleet!"

"Aye," Burlingame declared. "This and other things they said gave me to believe that Coode hath sailed disguised from London on the very man-o'-war with the Governor and his company, who joined the fleet this morning. No doubt he fears for his cause, and wished to see firsthand what favor his enemies have with Nicholson. Then, I gathered, Slye and Scurry were to meet him in the Downs and fetch him to their own ship, which sails tonight for the Isle of Man and thence to Maryland."

"I'God, the boldness of the man!" exclaimed the poet.

Burlingame smiled. "You think he's bold? 'Tis no long voyage from London to Plymouth."

"But under Nicholson's very nose! In the company of the very men he'd driven from the Province!"

"Yet as I crouched this while behind our baggage," Burlingame said, "an even bolder notion struck me -- But first I must tell you one other thing I heard. Scurry asked Slye, How would they know their leader in disguise, when they'd seen not even his natural face? And Slye proposed they use a kind of password employed by Coode's men before the revolution, to discover whether a third party was one of their number. Now it happened I knew two passwords very well from the old days when I'd feigned to be a rebel: In one the first man asks his confederate, 'How doth your friend Jim sit his mare these days?' By which is meant, How sure is King James's tenure on the throne? The second then replied, 'I fear me he'll be thrown; he wants a better mare.' And the third man, if he be privy to the game, will say, 'Haply 'tis the mare wants a better rider.' The other was for use when a man wished to make himself known to a party of strangers as a rebel: he would approach them on the street or in a tavern and say 'Have you seen my friend, that wears an orange cravat?' That is to say, the speaker is a friend of the House of Orange. One of the party then cries, 'Marry, will you mark the man!' which is a pun on Queen Mary and King William.

"On hearing their plans," Burlingame went on, "I resolved at once to thwart 'em: my first thought was for you and me to pose as Slye and Scurry, fetch Coode from off the man-o'-war, and in some wise detain him till we learned bis plans and why he wanted you."

" 'Swounds! 'Twould never have succeeded!"

"That may be," Burlingame admitted. "In any case, though I'd learned that Slye and Scurry did not know Coode, it did not follow
they
were strangers to
him
-- indeed, they are a famous pair of rascals. For that reason I decided to be John Coode again, as once before on Peregrine Browne's ship. I stepped around the trunks and enquired after my friend with the orange cravat."

Ebenezer expressed his astonishment and asked whether, considering that Burlingame wore the dress of a servant and that Coode was supposed to be aboard the man-o'-war, the move were not for all its daring ill-advised. His friend replied that Coode was known to be given to unusual dress -- priest's robes, minister's frocks, and various military uniforms, for example -- and that it was in fact quite characteristic of him to appear as if from nowhere among his cohorts and disappear similarly, with such unexpectedness that not a few of the more credulous believed him to have occult powers.

"At least they believed me," he said, "once they had composed themselves again, and I gave 'em small chance to question. I feigned displeasure at their tardiness, and fell into a great rage when they said the Laureate had slipped their halter. By the most discreet interrogation (for 'twas necessary to act as if I knew more than they) I was able to piece together an odd tale, which still I cannot fully fathom: Slye and Scurry had come from London with some wight who claimed to be Ebenezer Cooke; on orders from Coode they'd posed as Maryland planters and escorted the false Laureate to Plymouth, where I fancy they meant to put him on the
Morpheides
for some sinister purpose -- belike they thought him a spy of Baltimore's. But whoe'er the fellow was he must have smelled the plot, for he slipped their clutches sometime this morning.

"Now, think not I'd forgotten you," he went on; "I feared you'd find some other clothes and show yourself at any moment. Therefore I led Slye and Scurry to a tavern up the street for rum and detained them as long as possible, trying to hatch a plan for sending you a message. Every few minutes I looked down towards the wharf, pretending to seek a servant of mine, and when at last I saw your trunk was gone I guessed you'd gone alone to the
Poseidon.
Anon, when we walked this way again, the old man at the wharf confirmed that Eben Cooke had sailed off in the shallop with his trunk."

Ebenezer shook his head in wonder. "But --"

"Stay, till I finish. We came here then to pass time till evening; I was quite sure of your safety, and planned simply to send a message to you by the shallop-man, so you'd not think I'd betrayed you or fallen into peril. When Dolly told me your notebook was in the stable I swore to Slye and Scurry we'd catch you yet, inasmuch as a poet will go to Hell for his notebook, and stationed them to watch the stall for your return -- in fact I planned to send the book along to you anon with my message in it, and used the stratagem merely to rid myself for a time of those twin apes. Imagine my alarm when they fetched you in!"

Ebenezer remembered, with some discomfort, the scene his entrance had interrupted.

" 'Tis too fantastic for words," he declared. "You thought 'twas I had gone, and I 'twas you -- I say, the fellow was wearing your coat!"

"What? Impossible!"

"Nay, I'm certain of't. The old man at the dock described it: a soiled port-purple coat and black breeches. 'Twas for that I guessed it to be you."

"Dear God! 'Tis marvelous!" He laughed aloud. "What a comedy!"

Ebenezer confessed his ignorance of the joke.

"Only think on't!" his friend exclaimed. "When Slye and Scurry came looking for their Laureate this morning and made sport of you, not knowing you were he, Dolly and I had gone back yonder in the stable to play: in the first stall we ran to we found some poor wight sleeping, a servingman by the look of him, and 'twas he I traded clothes with on the spot. Right pleased he was to make the trade, too!"

" 'Sheart, you mean it was the false Laureate?"

"Who else, if the man you heard of wore my coat? Belike he'd just fled Slye and Scurry and was hiding from them."

"Then 'twas he they saw go past the window after, which saved my life!"

"No doubt it was; and learning of your trunk he must have made off with't. A daring fellow!"

"He'll not get far," Ebenezer said grimly. "I'll have him off the ship the instant we're aboard."

Burlingame pursed his lips, but said nothing.

"What's wrong, Henry?"

"You plan to sail on the
Poseidon?"
Burlingame asked.

"Of course! What's to prevent our slipping off right now, while Slye and Scurry wait us on their ship?"

"You forget my duty."

Ebenezer raised his eyebrows. "Is't I or you that have forgot?"

"Look here, dear Eben," Burlingame said warmly. "I know not who this impostor is, but I'll warrant he's merely some pitiful London coxcomb out to profit by your fame. Let him be Eben Cooke on the
Poseidon:
haply the Captain will see the imposture and clap him in irons, or maybe Coode will murther or corrupt him, since they're in the same fleet. Even if he carry the fraud to Maryland we can meet him at the wharf with the sheriff, and there's an end to't. Meanwhile your trunk is safely stowed in the ship's hold -- he cannot touch it."

"Then 'fore God, Henry, what is't you propose?"

"I know not what John Coode hath up his sleeve," said Burlingame, "nor doth Lord Baltimore nor any man else. 'Tis certain he's alarmed at Nicholson's appointment and fears for his own foul cause; methinks he plans to land before the fleet, but whether to cover all traces of his former mischief or to sow the seeds for more I cannot guess, nor what exactly he plans for you. I mean to carry on my role as Coode and sail to Maryland on the
Morpheides,
with my trusted servant Henry Cook."

"Ah no, Henry! 'Tis absurd!"

Burlingame shrugged and filled his pipe. "We'd steal a march on Coode," he said, "and haply scotch his plot to boot."

He went on to explain that Captains Slye and Scurry were engaged in smuggling tobacco duty-free into England by means of the re-export device; that is, they registered their cargo and paid duty on it at an English port of entry, then reclaimed the duty by re-exporting the tobacco to the nearby Isle of Man -- technically a foreign territory -- whence it could be run with ease into either England or Ireland. "We could work their ruin as well, by deposing against them the minute we land. What a victory for Lord Baltimore!"

Ebenezer shook his head in awe.

"Well, come now!" his friend cried after a moment. "Surely thou'rt not afraid? Thou'rt not so distraught about this idle impostor?"

"To speak truly, I
am
distraught on his account, Henry. 'Tis not that he improves his state at my expense -- had he robbed me, I'd be nothing much alarmed. But he hath robbed me of myself; he hath poached upon my very being! I cannot permit it."

"Oh la," scoffed Burlingame. "Thou'rt talking schoolish rot. What is this coin, thy
self,
and how hath he possessed it?"

Ebenezer reminded his friend of their first coloquy in the carriage from London, wherein he had laid open the nature of his double essence as virgin and poet -- that essence the realization of which, after his rendezvous with Joan Toast, had brought him into focus, if not actually into being, and the preservation and assertion of which was therefore his cardinal value.