Buccaneer (25 page)

“It’s a very practical hat.”

“Plaited from palm fronds. I’m sure Burton will make one for you.”

She pointed in surprise as, rounding the end of the long, sandy peninsula, they could suddenly see the size of the almost enclosed bay. “Why, it is big enough for ten fleets!”

The
Peleus
turned to starboard and began tacking to the eastward, further into the anchorage.

“Not many ships, sir,” Saxby said. “Two frigates, four storeships, and those local canoes. Fishermen’s dugouts from the look of them.”

Both the
Peleus
and the
Griffin
were flying English colours and Saxby pointed to a building on the sandy peninsula, which now cut them off from the sea.

“Flag flying over there, sir. Reckon it’s the army headquarters.”

Ned slowly continued his inspection of the whole anchorage and finally commented: “Penn and Venables had an easy job here!”

“How so, sir?”

“There’s not one fort anywhere. Just a battery on the end of the sandspit covering the entrance. I saw three guns.”

Saxby stared round the anchorage. “Aye, that’s right. Penn must have sailed in just like us! Now, will it be all right to anchor near those two frigates?”

“Anchor near the
Peleus
: Sir Thomas is less likely to make a mistake than us.”

An hour later, with the ships anchored within hail of each other, a boat left one of the frigates, went over to the house on the sandspit flying a flag and, having picked up an army officer, rowed towards the two newly-arrived ships. Long before they were within earshot, Whetstone shouted across: “Ned – I’m coming over with my ship’s papers so we can deal with these clodhoppers together. You agree, eh?”

“Safety in numbers,” Ned yelled. “Bring Diana – she can dazzle the soldiers while Aurelia distracts the sailors!”

Whetstone’s hearty bellow of laughter echoed across the water and they saw Diana take off her hat and wave it. The
Peleus’
boat was swung out and they watched as half a dozen seamen scrambled down into it. Then Ned saw a flash of bright colour, and then Whetstone followed down the ladder.

“Look! Oh, Ned, why did you not tell me?” Aurelia exclaimed. “Diana is in a dress with her hair so elegant!”

“Well, it can’t be all that elegant – she doesn’t have a woman on board! Anyway, go below and put on a dress if you wish – I’ll send reinforcements. Mrs Judd, Mrs Bullock!” he shouted. “Emergency! Combs and brushes!”

Sir Thomas Whetstone, in his role as Thomas Whetheread, wore dark grey breeches above light grey hose, a mustard-coloured jerkin, and a black felt hat with a flat brim topping the bearded face. Diana’s dress was also a sober grey – the flash of colours which Aurelia had spotted were her petticoats, now mostly hidden by the dress, which would have satisfied even the strictest Puritan minister. The dress would, Ned thought to himself, but there was no disguising that the woman wearing it was beautifully built and knew it.

“Where’s Aurelia?” she demanded. “Thomas forgot to shout over that we ought to wear dresses. I hope she has something suitably drab. Colours, bare hair and bare arms are the original sin to these people, though Thomas demands more!” She glared at the approaching boat. “Just look at them. Hats look like black flower pots. Luckily Thomas bought one last year from a Dutchman. Well, I’ll go down and see Aurelia.”

The frigate’s boat came alongside the rope ladder and the
Griffin
’s men took her painter and sternfast. The first man on board saluted Whetstone, who was standing beside the break in the bulwark where the ladder was rigged.

“John Hulls, sir, lieutenant of the
Urgent
, Commonwealth frigate, over yonder.”

Whetstone bowed, as though vastly impressed at meeting a naval officer. “Thomas Whetheread, sir, owner and master under God of the
Peleus
, lying over there.”

The lieutenant turned and introduced himself to Ned, who with suitable nervousness said he was Edward Kent, the owner of the
Griffin
, but the master was Mr Saxby, whom he presented.

“Ah,” the lieutenant said briskly, making way for the army officer struggling up the ladder, “having both owners and masters together makes it so much easier.”

Finally the army officer lumbered on board and was promptly introduced by the
Urgent
’s lieutenant as Major Slinger, of the 22nd Foot.

Whetstone raised his eyebrows and said to Ned: “Shall we go down to your cabin so that these gentlemen can inspect our papers?”

Ned looked suitably embarrassed. “Give me a moment, gentlemen: our respective wives are – er,” he hurriedly changed what he was going to say, in view of Major Slinger’s lugubrious features, “making themselves tidy in anticipation of your visit.”

He hurried below and knocked on the door. Aurelia told him to come in. She looked beautiful, and that, Ned realized, was all there was to it. Dress her in old sacks, black serge or grey poplin and she would still be beautiful, just as nothing could make Diana look like a nun.

“Well?” Diana demanded with mock severity. “Are we suitably attired?”

“You both look like Royalists’ doxies rather than Roundheads’ spouses, but that’s Nature’s doing. I’m bringing down a couple of officers, so please look demure!”

Major Slinger, the first to be introduced because of his seniority, both in rank and age, was clearly having trouble with his Puritan beliefs as his bulging eyes swung from Diana to Aurelia and back.

Diana, with the expression of a mother superior of a strict Protestant order, curtseyed and was suitably shy when the gallant major wanted to kiss her hand. Instead of lifting her hand to his lips he bowed deeply and, because Diana was not expecting it, looked as though he was going to bite her fingers.

Aurelia, now knowing what to expect, carried it off without speaking a word, but Lieutenant Hulls was determined to show that the navy knew what to do.

“Y’sarvant, ma’am,” he said, kissing Diana’s hand and then doing the same to Aurelia, but obviously unable to choose between the two of them. Major Slinger did not hesitate: within a moment he had Diana trapped in a corner and was commiserating with her for having such a heartless husband who made her accompany him on such a long voyage from England.

Diana, seeing that Thomas could hear the major’s words, simpered: “Yes, Major, and how understanding of you to realize it. So many thousands of miles – or is it leagues? I always mix them up. And such huge seas. Why, I swear that one went over the mast. And the sharks and whales and dolphins following us all the time, just waiting to eat us up!”

“Dolphins are not dangerous, ma’am,” Lieutenant Hulls volunteered reassuringly. “Sharks, yes, but not dolphins.”

“These were,” Major Slinger declared in a parade ground voice. “Why, the lady saw their teeth, didn’t ye, ma’am?”

“Oh indeed! A thousand teeth in every mouth, and a dozen mouths always snapping. The noise of all those mouths snapping shut – why even Thomas admitted it reminded him of war drums on the Benin coast!”

“Slaving, eh?” Hulls said. “Wretchedly unhealthy place, I’m told.”

“Lost half my crew from sickness,” Whetstone confessed, although he had never transported a slave in his life nor been near West Africa. “You know the rhyme –”

‘Beware and take care of the Bight of Benin,

There’s one comes out for five that go in.’”

The lieutenant shivered. “As bad as that? It’s bad enough here. The dead at Hispaniola…”

“Hispaniola?” Whetstone said innocently. “What happened, the Dons hit by the plague?”

The lieutenant glanced at Major Slinger who, having heard the question turned his back and continued an animated conversation with Diana.

“The fleet tried to land at Santo Domingo.”

“Whose fleet – are the French out here?”

“No, ours,” Hulls said miserably. “We were supposed to capture Hispaniola but thousands died of sickness, and we came on and captured this island instead.”

Whetstone looked as shocked as a bishop hearing a bawdy joke. “The Lord Protector won’t be satisfied with that!”

“No…well, Admiral Penn and General Venables have gone to England to report and have taken the fleet.”

“You seem to have little left to defend Jamaica. Aren’t you worried that the Spaniards will attack?”

“Yes. There are just the two frigates, and the four storeships, which arrived late with our artillery and horses.”

Slinger finally tore himself away from Diana and came over to Ned and Whetstone. “Yes, well, the lieutenant has told you. We have more than two thousand starving soldiers here.”

“Starving? With all the fruit on the trees?” Whetstone said.

“Yes, starving,” Slinger barked. “They’re not animals, you know; you expect them to climb trees like monkeys and pull down fruit?”

Whetstone shrugged his shoulders and Slinger continued: “I must see your manifests. I shall requisition any food you are carrying, apart from your crew’s provisions.”

“You won’t,” Ned said calmly, surprised to hear his own voice but finding the decision easy to make. “You can buy it at a fair price, but you’re not requisitioning anything.”

“Oh yes, I am! I’m the deputy military governor here, and what I say must be done.”

Ned shook his head and continued: “I am a peace-loving man and I have only two things to say. First, the
Griffin
and the
Peleus
can be sailing out of here in three minutes with you and the lieutenant still on board. Second, if the frigates chase us, we simply drop you both over the side for them to pick up. So, Major, you can read the manifests and give us your prices in writing and signed by you, or we’ll cut our anchor cable now.”

“You’ll regret this, Mr Kent! You sound like a Royalist to me! Well, we’ve cleared them out of Barbados, and we don’t propose letting them wriggle in here!”

“What did you do in Barbados, then?”

“Ha, root and branch, root and branch. We sequestrated their estates and sent ’em back to England as prisoners of State. All of them. Well, except one scoundrel that escaped before we arrived. Younger son of the Earl of Ilex, I’m told. Still, he couldn’t take his plantation!” He laughed at the thought of it. “So his precious plantation was sold to a loyal Parliamentarian.”

Ned nodded in agreement. “Quite right; it’s the only way to treat them. As you said, root and branch!”

“Yes – now, your manifests, please.”

Saxby stepped forward with a handful of papers.

“Sugar…trade goods… Where’s the cargo you brought out from England?” Slinger asked.

“Just piece goods, Major; we bought the sugar in Antigua and Montserrat. Fetches a good price in England, you know!”

“Not a bit of good to us. Well, a few tons. But we need flour. Now, not next year. How about you?” he asked Whetstone.

“In ballast, I’m afraid. I was going on to the Moskito Coast for logwood. Might pick up some fustic, cochineal and indigo if the Spaniards want to trade.”

Major Slinger now looked a worried man; Diana walked across the cabin without him noticing.

“Flour, we must have it!”

“Why don’t you send your storeships across to the Main?” Ned asked. “The Dons have it; they’ll sell it at a price!”

“But we’re at war with them – we’ve just captured this island from them!” Slinger expostulated.

“Major, you’re a soldier; I’m a businessman,” Whetstone said confidentially. “Let me assure you that a ship visiting a small Spanish port discreetly can get all the flour she wants. Of course it’ll be maize flour, not wheat, but it eats well. No Don can resist a profit.”

“But I can’t send the storeships,” Slinger wailed. “They are due to sail for England in three days, escorted by the frigates. I have written orders from the general, and the captains have written orders from the admiral.”

“Oh dear, oh dear,” Yorke said sympathetically. “So all you have are the fishermen’s dugouts. Well, at least you have some fish.”

“No, not even fish!” Slinger said lugubriously. “All the fishermen have bolted into the mountains.”

“I thought these islands had enormous herds of beeves and hogs,” Whetstone said. “At least you have plenty of meat!”

“No, no, no,” Slinger moaned. “The foolish soldiers sent out to catch cattle used muskets and all the livestock has bolted. Most of it was wild anyway.”

“How did the Spanish catch it before you came?” Ned asked.

“They had specially trained negroes using horses who ran them down with lances.”

“Won’t they work for you?”

Slinger shook his head. “They bolted when they saw us coming. They released all the domestic animals and drove them up into the mountains. They’re all somewhere over on the north side of the island.”

“Well, you need to prepare land for growing your own food,” Whetstone said briskly. “No fighting for your soldiers now, so they can change from swords to shovels. Your blacksmiths can beat out ploughshares, eh!”

But Slinger did not laugh. “I should not talk of this, I suppose, but the lieutenant knows of it and will not gossip. The fact is that most of the officers will not encourage their men to prepare the soil. We’ve even offered them land for themselves if they will settle here and produce crops. But they refuse.”

“Why?” Yorke asked incredulously. “I’m told that in Barbados land costs £20 an acre!”

“The officers are soldiers. They hate the tropics. So many died in Hispaniola from cholera, black vomit, malaria… Even here we lose a hundred men a week. All they want to do is to get back to England; to them, clearing and planting land might lead the Lord Protector to decide to keep Jamaica, and leave them out here as the garrison.”

Ned, thinking of Kingsnorth, now owned by Wilson, gave a cynical laugh which irritated Slinger. “What is funny, Mr Kent? Do you find the death of more than half an expedition humorous?”

“No,” Ned said shortly, “what’s funny is the stupidity of soldiers who would sooner starve than dig. Sailors see things differently: if they fall in the sea, they swim to avoid drowning.”

“Sugar,” Whetstone said suddenly. “Are you going to buy the
Griffin
’s sugar?”