A Jester’s Fortune - Dewey Lambdin

Lewrie wasn't so sure Kolodzcy wasn't an out-of-work instructor of dancing, masquerading-some rude jape the Austrians had foisted on them-and was more than happy that Rodgers was the one forced to deal with him on a daily basis and share his august company.

Leutnant Kolodzcy was a touch leaner than courtier-slim, as thin as a high-strung whippet or greyhound. He displayed such elegant, languid mannerisms that he could have taught refinement to the Venetians, making them look like lumbering dockyard drunks by comparison. He stood three inches shorter than Lewrie's five-foot-nine-and that with the help of a pair of glossy black Hessian boots with heels so tall they were suited to cavalry stirrups. And they were adorned with more gaudy gilt cord and tassels than post-captains were allowed on an entire coat!

His hair was dark, almost raven-black, and cut in that newfangled Frog fashion… brushed forward over the ears and forehead, and lacking that long, plaited queue particular to real sailormen. He sported soft brown puppy eyes set in a rather pale face of such startling regularity that he was almost effeminately pretty, with cheekbones any fashionable lady might kill for, a pert little drawer-knob of a chin, and lips quite bee-stung, or as cherubically bowed as Cupids. When he didn't have 'em set in a disbelieving pout or moue, that is, over how real navies lived!

And Leutnant zur See Conrad Kolodzcy wore scent… rather a lot of scent. Lewrie suspected his family was in the trade and kept him stocked with a constant supply of the family product, as a fashion adjunct or as a walking advertisement. That Hungary Water or Cologne wasn't used in the manner most folks used it-to cover the reek of unwashed flesh and clothing-for Leutnant Kolodzcy had fetched along a portable, collapsible canvas bathtub as part of his "absolutely essential" kit, and had been appalled to learn that his daily allotment of water for shaving and bathing would be the same as a British officer's-a bare pint a day!-barring what they could sluice into water-butts when it rained. He had been most vocal in expressing his horror over that; that, and the lack of proper chefs, proper bedsteads, clean bed-linen daily, decent wine to drink, or the dreadful hours he'd be expected to rise or retire, or the fact that tea, coffee or chocolate couldn't be whistled up from the galley on a whim.

Fortunately for their mission, he could express his horrors in English, French, German, Italian, Hungarian, Albanian or Serbo-Croat, or a smattering of both Turkish or Demotic Greek, unfortunately for nerves or patience, he did this in a thin, high, irritatingly lazy whine!

"Look, Lewrie, erm…" Rodgers said, once he'd directed Kolodzcy below to settle in, "since you'll be so close inshore, first to make a contact with pirate bands-"

"But would his dignity not be mortally offended, sir?" Lewrie said most quickly in rebuttal, as soon as he saw which way the wind was blowing. "Fobbed off on a junior officer? On a minor vessel with less room? My word, sir! Just what would the Austrian court make o' that? The diplomatic tussle that'd cause… tsk-tsk. Why, I shudder to think." "I could make it an order, Lewrie," Rodgers said with a gloomy look. "And of course you could, sir," Lewrie agreed, struggling to keep his countenance whey-faced innocent of guile, yet tinged with honest concern. "Though our orders from Admiral Jervis were to make every effort to honour and accommodate our Austrian allies and give no offence which might undo the Coalition. Who knows what ear at Court in Vienna this fellow whispers into, though? Then, as senior officer of our adhoc squadron, sir… after all, can't let the side down, sir. All for old England… an' all that?"

"Yer bein' exasperatin' again, Lewrie." Rodgers all but wept.

"Just pointing out the consequences, sir." Lewrie shrugged, daring to let a "sympathetic" grin tweak his mouth, elevate his brow.

"Damn yer eyes, Lewrie. Just damn yer eyes," Rodgers sighed.

"Very good, sir!"

"Vahl, ahz you heff learn-ed," Leutnant Kolodzcy drawled, seated in one of Rodgers's armchairs, legs primly crossed at the knees, idly holding a slim Spanish cigarillo in one hand and a tall flute of Capt. Rodgers's best champagne in the other, "dere are many pirade bants on de Balgan goast, chentlemen."

He just say "Balgan ghost"? Lewrie asked himself, head over in perplexity as he tried to decypher Kolodzcy's extremely tortured English. Oh! Balkan coast! Pirate-bloody-bants.. bands! Gawd…!

"Aye, we've encountered some," Rodgers allowed.

"Ja!" Kolodzcy exclaimed, somewhat like the "Yipp!" an excited lap-dog might make. He paused to take a dainty sip of champagne, then. curl his left wrist inward for a puff of cigar smoke. He threw back his head to shoot smoke at the overhead, and then shot his cuff to return the cigarillo to "Run-in, Load" position. It was most elegantly, though foppishly done.

"Though mine family ist frohm de easz… Transylwania… 'Ungar-ian, do you see?" Kolodzcy languidly explained, "I am many yahrs upon de Balgan goast, and am knowink it guite intimadely, sirs. Unt I dell you now, chentlemen, dat dhere are only vahry few pirade bants awailable to you."

"Beg pardon?" Rodgers said, having to ask for a repeat before he grasped all that Kolodzcy had lisped out. "And why is that, sir?"

"Herr Kapitan Rodgers," Kolodzcy simpered, as one might to the dimmest student in the class, "for de vahry gute reason dat dere are few who heff need of you, in de firsd blace. Gonzidder…"

Don't know I care to 'gonzidder'! Lewrie thought, trying to not cackle out loud. This Leutnant Kolodzcy was better than an entre-acte at a Drury Lane theatre! Surely he was a poseur, a clown!

"De Uscocchi, de Croatians, sir," Kolodzcy droned on, puffing on his cigarillo with all the panache of a lady hard at it with her fan. "Allied vit de 'Ungarians, already. You abbroach Croatian pirades in 'Ungarian ser-wice, you inwolve 'Ungary. A formal, overt alliance, vich I do nod think your Kapitan Charlton vishes? Anyway, Uscocchi are all promised to Vienna… not awailable, nicht wahr? Gonzidder alzo Corsairs ohf Dul-cigno. Vahry strong, vit no need ohf your arms or assistance. To use them, inwolves gountry vich is neutral. Nod much of a gountry, bud a gountry even zo. Ach… mine glass ist empty." Leutnant Kolodzcy pouted of a sudden.

Rodgers flicked his eyes at his cabin-servant, who sprang to pour Kolodzcy another bumper into the glass which the fellow held out side-wise, without looking. He busied himself with his tobacco, shooting another "broadside" towards the sky-lights of the coach-top.

"Zo alzo, sirs, ist Ragusa de neutral gountry, nicht wahr?" Lt. Kolodzcy smirked, as though it was he who was senior aboard, not them. "Ewen a temporary alliance musd be formal, public? Unt you vish…?"

"Sub rosa, completely, Lieutenant Kolodzcy," Rodgers said with a conspiratorial air. "We wish a most informal, ermmm…"

"Unt I am given to unterstand dhat your Kapitan Charlton vishes to strike de bargain only vit a… Christian bant, sirs? No Muslims?" Kolodzcy enquired, rolling his eyes as Lewrie and Rodgers wished they could have, the first time they heard it said. Leutnant Kolodzcy turned the tiniest cock of a brow, the least lift of a corner of his mouth into a gargantuan sneer, and let loose a restrained, gentlemanly howl of laughter, "Unglaiiblich! Dat ist to be sayink.. incredible!"

"Quite adamant about it," Lewrie assured him with a droll roll of his own eyes. "No bloodthirsty pagans or heathens."

"A grade piddy, Herr Lewrie," Kolodzcy sighed. "De Muslims are grade fighters, though they heff liddle knowledge ohf de sea. Zose few on de goast vit boats? Nein, to use dhem vould brink notice unt vould mean grade trouble vit de Oddoman Durks."

Christ, "Oddoman Durks"? Lewrie silently whimpered, thinking he would have to put a fist in his mouth to stifle himself!

"A local pasha who vish to make de quick profit might, berhaps," Kolodzcy schemed, furrowing his serenely unruffled brow for the first time. "Rud, vhen Sultan in Constantinople learn ohf dis, dhen dhere ist slaughter. He sends army to punish any pasha or province vich is armed by you, thinkmk of rebelling, later? Ja, a grade piddy, sirs… you use Muslim pirades for a few veeks or months only, dhen inform Sultan, who sends army to crush dhem. Problem of alliance is solved. Problem of deniability, alzo. No blut on British hands for de vorld to see.. simply renegade locals. Never allied vit Royal Navy, you see?"

Kolodzcy smiled at them, nigh angelically.

"So Muslims might be best, after all, in spite of what Captain Charlton wished?" Rodgers frowned. "Perhaps one of those provinces already broken away… Albanians, Montenegrans? Greeks?"

"Greeks, no," Leutnant Kolodzcy dismissed airily, pointing his ciga-rillo at Rodgers like a tutors ferrule. "Too terrorised by de Sultan's troops, on goast especially. Inland, Durks nod as strong, bud no use to you, dhose inland Greeks, who are still Orthodox Christian. Greeks on goast heff few boats. You arm dhem, train dhem, dhey organise into fighters who could rebel, once you are done vit dhem. Dhen de Sultan or one ohf his pashas hess to crush dhem. Make de blut bad."

"Sorry… didn't get that last bit," Rodgers enqired, shaking his head as if to clear stuffy ears. "You said…?"

"De blut bad" Kolodzcy repeated. "Blut bad. Blut bad!" he insisted, all but stamping a dainty foot, sure he was making sense.

"A blood bath I think he means, sir," Lewrie offered.

"Ja!" Kolodzcy yipped. "Egzagdly… blut bad."

"Ah," Rodgers sighed, a lot less hopefully. "Quite."

"Whole prowince, nod chust one willage," Kolodzcy expounded. "Unt long before you are done vit dhem. Gomplete massacre."

"So," Lewrie posed after a painfully long silence, broken only by the sigh of more cigar smoke being jetted aloft, "just who does it leave us, then, Lieutenant Kolodzcy?"

Kolodzcy swung his right hand out, idly shook his empty glass, looking at Lewrie in silence. Griggs stepped up to refill him.

"You do nod vish de already strong," Kolodzcy lectured, after a refreshing sip. "Dhey are allied already, or heff no use for vhat you offer. You gannot employ existink gountries, for your Kapitan Charlton ist vishing anonymity unt deniability goncernink ties to pirades. Nor can you use Muslims or Durkish subjects. Dhey might be slaughdered before you could train dhem. No… de only people who come to mind… de only warlike Christians, who heff exberience ohf de sea, are Serbs. De Serbians. Ja, genauische!"

Powder-Yeoman Rahl says that! Lewrie exulted; damme, I can get that bit of German! He said exactlyl

"Serbians, chentlemen," Kolodzcy echoed, sounding enthused for once, all but smiting his forehead for being remiss in not considering them earlier. "De Balgan goast ist hodgepodge. Ja, hodgepodge? Gute. Croatian, Muslim, callink dhemselves Bosnian or Herzegovinan. Inland are Serbians, bud dhey are alzo scaddered among de odders unt along de goast. Eine Slavic people, Eastern Orthodox Christian people, gradely outnumbered. Dhey heff resisted conwersion by de Durks for centuries! Grade warriors alzo, who fight forever to win dheir independence from de Durks. Bud, nod heffink numbers or weapons. Fisherman… sailors unt zometimes pirades. Small boats only, bud dhey could sail larger, vit your help, unt vit your arms unt gaptured ships. Dhey gontrol some ohf de smaller offshore islands, alzo!"

"And they don't fear Turkish reprisals?" Rodgers puzzled.

"Ha, sir! De Serbians scoff at de Durks! Dhey vould radder die vit Durkish blut on dheir hands dhan liff as slaves, I dell you," the little officer boasted. "Serbians vould radder massacre a Durkish wilage, a Muslim willage, dhan eat! Dhat ist how dhey liff, raidink along de goast. Bud, boor bickinks, mosd ohf de time."

"Sorry, again. Boor…?" Rodgers flinched in perplexity.

"Poor pickings, he said, sir," Lewrie translated for him.

"Ja, boor!" Kolodzcy sulkily agreed. "Bud remember, it ist de hungry wolf vich hunts de hardest. Unt de Serbian wolves are hungriest of all. Any ships vich escape you inshore, de Serbians vill eat up in de plink ohf de eye! Ships, gargoes unt grews, all gone… phffft!" Leutnant Kolodzcy said with a twinkle and a happy conjuring motion.

"Cargoes and crews," Lewrie supplied without being asked.

"Who ist to say vhat happen to ships vich de Serbs take, sirs?" Kolodzcy simpered. "Unt your gomplicity vit dhem you may deny. Dhey are nod zo many, zurrounded by zo many Muslims. Dhey heff grade need ohf you. Unt, vhen you are done vit dhem, veil… Ragusa, Dul-cigno, odder goastal powers vill not tolerate a strong Serbian pirade fleet for long. Competition, nicht wahr? Rebellion, nicht wahr? If vord gets out ohf your arrangement, dhen you can t'row dhem to de wolves!"

"Uhm, that bit about cargoes and crews disappearing," Rodgers quibbled, making a similar conjuring "poof of his own. "Surely, sir, there will be Europeans aboard the ships the Serbs take, should they ally with us. There will be officers and passengers who should properly be detained, sent here to Trieste for internment or exchange…"

"Dhen your secret ist oud, sir," Kolodzcy objected lazily, with another dismissive conjurement. "Frenchmen, Batavians or Danes speak ohf pirades unt Royal Navy vorkink togedder, dhen…? Bedder dat dey disappear. Sold in slave-markets ashore."

"Or their throats cut, sir?" Lewrie objected.

"Vat is old pirade sayink, Herr Kommandeur Lewrie?" Lieutnant Kolodzcy chuckled. "Dat 'dead men dell no dales'?"

"No, that's out," Rodgers snapped. "Right out. Prisoners must be taken, given proper treatment. Held on one of those offshore islands, perhaps. Or your officials here in Trieste could hold 'em incommunicado 'till-"

"Anything else would be unthinkable, sir," Lewrie chimed in, his dander up. "The Royal Navy, nor England, would never countenance murder or enslavement."

"Bud, you vill goundenance piracy, nicht wahr?" Kolodzcy mocked.

"Well, erm…!" Lewrie fumed.

"Dhey gome here to Trieste, dhen Austria musd take note, sirs," Kolodzcy cautioned. "Vord gets oud, eventually."

"Let's say the Serbians pick a small, rocky island, where they'd be easy to guard, then," Rodgers countered. "Use timber and canvas off a prize for materials to build huts. Food and water come off the prizes, too, so it won't cost tuppence t'feed 'em, either. Your Serbians keep the ships they take, those that suit 'em. They can burn the rest for their metal and fittings, if they like, and have what valuables there are aboard as strikes their fancies, too. But… your Serbians should keep the prisoners alive, sir! No slave-market, no other harm to come to 'em. Save the ships' papers, manifests and such, and turn 'em over to us, with a list of all prisoners from each capture."