The Rosetta Key

He shambled after me like a dim but eager circus bear.We descended to the lowest part of the frigate, where the stores are kept.

“I hid the money down here so no one could thieve it,” I said, lift-ing a hatch to the bilge. “My mentor Ben Franklin said riches increase cares, and I daresay he had a point. You should remember it.”

“Damn the rebel Franklin! He should have hanged!” I reached down. “Oh dear, it shifted. Fell, I think.” I peered about and looked up at the looming Goliath, using the same art of feigned helplessness that any number of wenches had used on me. “Your losses were what, three shillings?”

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“Four, by God!”

“So triple that . . .”

“Aye, you owe me ten!”

“Your arm is longer than mine. Can you help?”

“Reach it yourself!”

“I can just brush it with my fingertips. Maybe we could find a gaff?” I stood, looking hapless.

“Yankee swine . . .” He got down and poked his head in. “Can’t see a bloody thing.”

“There, to the right, don’t you see that gleam of silver? Reach as far as you can.”

He grunted, torso through the hatch, stretching and groping.

So with a good hearty heave I tipped him the rest of the way. He was heavy as a flour sack, but once I got him going that was an advantage. He fell, there was a clunk and a splash, and before he could get off a good howl about greasy bilgewater, I had the hatch shut and bolted. Gracious, the language coming from below! I rolled some water casks over the hatch to muffle it.

Then I took the purse from where it was really hidden between two biscuit barrels, tucked it in my trousers, and bounded up to the waist deck, sleeves rolled. “It’s noon by the ship’s bells!” I cried. “In the name of King George, where is he?”

A chorus of shouts for Big Ned went up, but no answer came.

“Is he hiding? Can’t blame him for not wanting to face me.” I boxed the air for show.

Little Tom was glowering. “By Lucifer, I’ll thrash you.”

“You will not. I’m not matching every man on this ship.”

“Ned, give this American what he deserves!” Tom cried.

But there was no answer.

“I wonder if he’s napping in the topgallants?” I looked up at the rigging, and then had the amusement of watching Little Tom clamber skyward, shouting and sweating.

I spent some minutes below behaving like an impatient rooster, and then as soon as I dared I turned to Smith. “How long do we have to wait for this coward? We both know I’ve business ashore.” t h e

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The crew was clearly frustrated, and deeply suspicious. If I didn’t get off Dangerous soon, Smith knew he’d likely lose his newest, and only, American agent. Tom dropped back down to the deck, panting and frustrated. Smith checked the hourglass. “Yes, it’s a quarter past noon and Ned had his chance. Be gone, Gage, and accomplish your task for love and freedom.”

There was a roar of disappointment.

“Don’t play cards if you can’t afford to lose!” Smith shouted.

They jeered, but let me pass to the ship’s ladder. Tom had disappeared below. I’d not much time, so I dropped onto the dirty fishing nets of an Arab lighter like an anxious cat. “To shore now, and an extra coin if you make it fast,” I whispered to the boatman.

I pushed us off myself, and the Muslim captain began sculling for Jaffa’s harbor with twice his usual energy, meaning half what I preferred.

I turned to wave back to Smith. “Can’t wait until we meet again!” Blatant lie, of course. Once I learned Astiza’s fate and satisfied myself about this Book of Thoth, I had no intention of going near either the English or the French, who’d been at each other’s throats for a millen-nium. I’d sail for China first.

Especially when there was a boil of men at the gun deck and Big Ned’s head popped up like a gopher, red from rage and exertion. I gave him a look from the new glass and saw he was wearing a baptism of slime.

“Come back here, yellow dog! I’ll rip you limb from limb!”

“I think the yellow is yours, Ned! You didn’t keep our appointed time!”

“You tricked me, Yankee sharp!”

“I educated you!” But it was getting hard to hear as we bobbed away. Sir Sidney lifted his hat in wry salute. The English marines scrambled to lower a longboat.

“Can you go a little faster, Sinbad?”

“For another coin, effendi.”

It was a sharp little race, given that the beefy marines churned the waves like a waterwheel, Big Ned howling at the bow. Still, Smith 1 8

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had told me about Jaffa. It has just one land gate in, and you needed a guide to find your way back out. Given a head start, I’d hide well enough.

So I took one of my ferryman’s fishing nets and, before he could object, heaved it in the path of the closing longboat, snarling their starboard oars so they began turning in circles, roaring insults in language that would make a drill sergeant blush.