said Gabriel as he leaned across the counter, his temper barely held in check. “That rum in the wagon out front is mine, bought and paid for, and the sooner you deliver it to my sloop, the better for you.” “Nay, Cap’n, I told you it ain’t yours.” Although his words were belligerent, instinct still made the distiller shuffle back beyond Gabriel’s reach. “That out front belongs to Cap’n Reed. War’s good for my business, same as yours. Like I told you, you ain’t the only shipmaster eager t’light off after the French.” Gabriel swore and pounded his fist on the counter hard enough to rattle the tin lantern. “And I tell you, Talbot, I mean to put to sea day after tomorrow, and I mean to have that rum with me!” “And mebbe you won’t be first out o’ the harbor, Cap’n Sparhawk,” said the other man peevishly. He was fat, with breasts like a woman’s that quivered now with his indignation. “Mebbe this once you won’t get what you want. Mebbe you’ll be thinking twice afore you go unbuttonin’ yourself.”
