Free Mean Sun by Gerry Garibaldi

stabilizing the marketplace. We then increase profits and deliver these miserable wretches from their heathen misery.”
    “Will the Dutch company then seek to enter into a war with—”
    The governor cut Hearne off with a crisp smack of his hand upon the table.
    “Tell me, my Lord Douglas,” spoke the governor, turning to Greyson. “Rumors have it that the British East India Company plans to expand eastward.”
    “I don’t know where you receive your intelligence, Governor,” replied Greyson coolly.
    “Milord, an oar does not stir the water that the great Dutch navy does not hear it,” said he, adding icily, “That would bring us in conflict. Have not these wars been tiresome enough for you?”
    “We desire no conflict,” replied Greyson. “Our two countries have had enough disputes. I’m told your company shares are now beneath 400 guilders, and rumor has it that your dividends are now greater than your profits, sir. That is a woeful return for war.”
    “Our company army is large and formidable,” replied Snyder, flustered. “And our navy is equal to that of any nation. It is our profits that secure her.”
    “So I have been told,” answered Greyson.
    The governor let out a delighted laugh.
    “What is your port of call?
    “Amoy,” replied Hearne flatly.
    The governor was taken by surprise. He looked to Greyson as if to confirm the captain’s response. Greyson’s face colored at the captain’s indiscretion.
    “Amoy!” muttered the stout governor thoughtfully, advancing on his port again. “That is a wild and dangerous place, at war with the Emperor. To what advantage, I wonder?” He scrutinized the two men. “China?”
    Hearne was about to answer, when Greyson sharply interjected.
    “I think that’s enough said on this subject.”
    At this moment, the captain gave me a slight nod, a signal for which I had been waiting. I made for the door.
    On deck three men were waiting for me, Mr. Hines, Mr. Heath and Simon Wouk, the pirate. Wordlessly, we gathered at the starboard rail, then one by one rappelled down a rope and into a waiting boat. Mr. Hines and Mr. Heath took the front oars and Mr. Wouk and I took the rear. Behind us in a tidy line sat all of our boats at the ready, which had been surreptitiously lowered after our guests arrived.
    Our boat pushed off toward shore, and we muffled the noise of our oars. Our tiny bark quickly disappeared into the fog. My comrades and I, with all stealth, meant to gain entrance into those warehouses and catalogue their contents. With us we carried but an iron bar and a shuttered lamp. Mr. Wouk had been selected to go on our mission because he spoke the Dutch language.
    We approached shore and our bow scraped over the pebbled beach. We four clambered ashore. There were distinct sounds about us in every direction, reverberating through the mist, but none so near as to cause us alarm.
    Hines addressed Mr. Wouk in a low whisper.
    “We have our eye on you, Mr. Wouk,” said he.
    “You’ll have no trouble from me, sir,” replied Wouk. “Though they be my own people, I have no love for them, nor they for me.”
    The warehouses were set in a row some fifty yards from the water, adjoined by a receiving dock. Now the building appeared peaceful and quiet, without a trace of human interest.
    “The meat, Mr. Wren,” whispered Mr. Hines.
    From my belt under my coat I brought out a shank of pork, still warm from the meal. A guard dog was tethered to the moldy pile that led to the workhouses. We crept forward and the animal began to growl then bark ferociously at the sound of our footfalls. I sprang forward and pitched the shank toward him. In a moment the beast was quiet, gnawing on his prize.
    We approached the first warehouse. Mr. Hines brandished his iron bar, Mr. Heath covered the object with his coat to muffle the sound, and with dispatch Mr. Hines broke the lock. We slipped inside and Mr. Heath opened the shutters of the lantern and held it aloft. Within the