HF - 01 - Caribee (14 page)

Edward's throat was dry. He was to watch another man die. Now. Because suddenly everyone around him possessed a knife, or at the very least a sharp-edged shell, and the chanting had stopped.

Tegramond stepped forward, slowly walking up to the man. He said something, which the prisoner answered with a tirmultuous shake which all but displaced the stake. Then Tegramond grasped one quivering bu
tt
ock, and with a sweep of his knife sliced through the flesh.

'By Christ,' Tom Warner shouted. 'Alive? By Christ.' He fell to his knees and vomited in the sand.

But he was ignored by the Caribs, who swarmed forward, shouting and screaming, all eager to seize a piece of flesh and tear or cut it free, while the women stretched their hands through the forest of legs and arms, holding gourds to catch the spurting blood, licking fingers and smacking hps where the liquid splashed or overflowed. Edward stared at them in horror, at his father in amazement. He wondered why he was not vomiting himself, why he felt so detached; this scene was far more nauseating than the execution of Mr Walkden. Or was it? It was more bestial, more sexual. There was naked emotion in front of him, where before there had been enjoyment but not participation. But here ... he saw Yarico. She had secured the penis, and sucked it with the enjoyment of a child with a sweet. Blood dribbled from the corners of her mouth and down to her chin, hanging there as the water had done that day at the pool. It trickled down her neck and between her breasts, made pa
tt
erns against the sweat of her belly.

'Oh, Christ,' Tom Warner mu
tt
ered, wiping his mouth and
retching. 'Oh, Christ '

But the Dominican Carib was dead; the onslaught had been too vigorous. Indeed, he could have known only a few seconds of pain. And now he no longer existed. Bare bones drooped against the stake where his feet and legs had been; bare ribs gleamed white amidst the red brown rags which hung from his shoulders. Only his head and face were untouched, by knives or hands. But the contorted features were almost the most horrible event of the whole terrible afternoon.

And now the Caribs danced.

Taken from a Don, by God.' John Painton poured wine, and smiled at the ragged colonists. He wore a huge brocaded coat, in red velvet, quite unfi
tt
ed for the climate, although as splendid as anytiiing ever seen at court; underneath there was no doublet but an open-necked shirt. Yet the shirt itself was of cambric, and his shoes sported golden buckles. Behind him his men were similarly clad, and armed, too, with a variety of new weapons, gleaming rapiers, shiny-hilted pistols, and endless botdes of wine, which they were pouring for Tegramond and his eager people.

'You've done well,' Tom said. 'Would you'd come a week sooner.'

'And was that your first Carib feast?" Painton demanded.

'Tom, you've led a sheltered life. To these people, to eat a savage from Dominica, why, 'tis like taking the sacrament'

'You blaspheme, sir,' Berwicke growled.

‘I
deny that,' Painton said. This is their religion. That of animal spirits, physical courage, and physical harm. This man was a famous warrior, no doubt. By partaking in his living flesh all this tribe benefits, and grows stronger and bolder. Oh, it Is a brutal, un-Christian point of view, to be sure, but none the less valid for that. You'd do well not to brood on it, Mr Berwicke. Nor you, Tom. Nor any of you. You're to be congratulated. I spied your houses, and your tobacco, through my glass when we were standing in. You've a handsome crop, there, Tom. Worth as much as my Spaniard,
I’ll
be bound. And I've the men to help you reap. For a ten per cent share, it's that and its transport home.'

Done,' Tom said. 'Well start tomorrow, and then we'll turn our backs on this cursed place.'

'Man, you are difficult to please, and that's a fact. Can you not see the future? With that crop, that profit, you'll have men flocking to join you. Tis something to think of, Tom. With a colony of three or four hundred men and women setded here, and the tobacco to a
tt
end to your needs, you'd not have to fear the
Indian
s.'

'Fear them?'

"Oh, man, be honest with me as I have ever been with you. You are suffering less at this moment from watching a man torn to pieces than from the supposition that one day it might be you and yours.'

'And think you I could bring any other white people to so savage a place, and expose them to such a fate?"

'There'd be nothing at risk in it, Tom, had you only sufficient numbers. Man, half a dozen crops like this one and youll be able to snap your fingers at the King himself. It's money that buys strength, Tom. And you've the money, now. Not that I truly feel you have a thing to worry about. Tegramond gave you his word, and he is a man of his word. Why, look at the fellow. Could you imagine a more harmless tippler?'

Tegramond sat with his back against a tree, his legs spread wide, while he drank wine from the botde; as ever, Tom's sword was strapped to his waist. At least a score of his men were similarly inebriated, and their women were gathered in a cluster close by, as eagerly snatching what remnants of the precious liquid as rolled their way in the discarded botdes as they had snatched the dying man's blood a few days earlier; indeed, the red liquid spurting down their cheeks seemed li
tt
ie different.

Edward watched his father, anxiously. No ma
tt
er what happened, he did not want to go home. He wanted to stay here, in the heat and the sun and the savagery. He wanted to see Yarico again. He had to see her again, soon, for the memory of her with bloodstained mouth and teeth, chewing at the lifeless piece of human flesh which was so precious to all mankind, hung before his face like an angry cloud; he had not slept soundly since the feast

But he did not want to leave.

Tom was sighing, and glancing at the other men. "What say your"

'Mr Painton is right,' Tony said. 'There is nothing for us in England now. Be sure that Mr North will have told no fla
tt
ering account of our decision to remain behind And Mr Painton is right on the other score, too. But let us recruit some reinforcements, and some women as wives, by God, Tom, you were promising us no more than that only a while ago.'

'The lad is right, Tom,' Ashton said. 'Yet with due respect to Mr Painton, I feel that one of us ought to take the tobacco home, and a
tt
end to these other ma
tt
ers. 'Tis no business for agents. Although be sure that I do not seek to carp about your share, Mr Painton.'

‘I
agree with Hal,' Berwicke said. 'And indeed, it is the more dangerous task, if Mr North has really spread rumours concerning us. I would willingly volunteer...'

'No,' Tom said. 1 will go. I know best what we have achieved, what we can still achieve. And I will have the King's ear, especially if my lord of Warwick survives and prospers. Will you three remain and hold the colony for me?"

'Against all, Captain,' Tony promised.

Then it shall be so. Well reap tomorrow, and be away the day after. If that is satisfactory, John.'

That will be splendid,' Painton said. 'But if you
gentle
men will excuse my interfering with your affairs, you should appoint a deputy, Tom. Every society, no ma
tt
er how limited, requires a leader to cope with whatever emergency may arise. A leader who is acknowledged, and whom the others will obey.'

Tom glanced at his friends.

'Again, Mr Painton is right,' Tony said. "Else shall we fall to quarrelling. And be sure that I have no interest in the post.'

'Hal?'

The sailing master shrugged. 'The decision is yours, Tom. I am easy in the ma
tt
er.'

Then it shall be Ralph. You have no objection, old friend?'
‘I
am fla
tt
ered, sir.'

‘
You had agreed to call me Tom. I appoint Mr Berwicke,
gentle
men, deputy governor of this colony, before you all, and before Mr Painton, as my witness, until my return. He is a good man and my oldest friend, and will shirk neither duty nor execution. Now there, it is done. And it was uncommonly solemn.' He filled his glass and held it up.
‘I
drink a toast to Mr Ralph Berwicke, and his colony of three.'

'Four, Father,' Edward said.

W

'With your permission, sir, I would also remain here. You will return with Mama, and Philip. I can wait until
then
. And St Christopher is more my home than England.'

The lad is right,' Berwicke said, 'And we shall be happy to care for him, Tom.'

Tom stared at his son.

‘I
know he's right,' Tom said. Then he shall stay. Truly, he's safer here than chancing his life upon the ocean, there and back. By God, I feel a perfect woman, at the diought of leaving. Tell me what you would have me bring for you, as a reward for your labours here. Ralph?'

Berwicke took off his ba
tt
ered hat.
‘I
'd be grateful for a new one, Tom.'

'You shall have it. Best beaver. Hal?'

'A keg of English beer, Tom. God, my mouth waters at the thought'

Then your thirst shall be quenched. Tony?
’

'Just bring me a woman, Tom.'

‘I
have promised you all one of those. Edward?
’

'A sword, Father. A sword of my own.'

'Spoken like a soldier's son. Well, then, be sure that I shall return before Christmas, with your requirements, with money and with men, with women, Tony, lad, and with your mother and brodier, Edward. Aye, and the new babe, too.'

Edward stood on Brimstone Hill long after the Plymouth Belle had disappeared over the horizon, her dirt-grey sails merging into the haze. Up here he could weep, if he wished. Ji he discovered it to be unavoidable.

There was no reason for it. Father was going, to return with Mama and Philip. How they could be surprised to see the man into which he had grown. How they would be surprised at the island. Delighted. Until the next Carib feast? But the Carib feast was no worse than an execution at Tyburn. They would breed a different type of man here, perhaps, and woman. In time.

And meanwhile there was the tobacco to be cared for. How bare the field looked, with the huge brown leaves departed. But the seed beds were full, and long before Father returned they would have to be planted out; he must return to a be
tt
er crop than even that he carried with him. Because there was no question that it would grow. He could not imagine anything not growing here.

But it was no longer paradise. No longer, perhaps, even the Enchanted Isle. Although enchanted did not always mean nothing but happiness. The enchanted forests and enchanted castles of legend invariably contained snares and dangers which had to be overcome. So perhaps St Christopher was, after all, an enchanted place.

He turned at the sound. Yarico pointed at the sea, held her hands together in the shape of a boat and rocked them gently, and
then
put a forefinger to the comer of each eye and slowly traced them down her cheek.

'Don'
‘I
be ridiculous,' he said angrily.
‘I
but wished to be sure they were safe away. All, what's the use. You don'
‘I
understand me. And I don'
‘I
understand you, to be sure. Anything about you. You'd do best to leave me alone.'

He walked on the path leading down, and felt her fingers on his arm. Lighdy. Not the way she had torn the penis from the dying
Indian
. And now there was no blood on her teeth as she smiled, and none dribbling from the comers of her hps. But Christ, one day her mouth could be full of him, should he ever fall out with her father's people. The lightness began to fill his belly, but it was a surging feeling, an awareness of liimself as a man. The feeling he knew whenever he thought of this girl; certainly whenever he saw her.

As she knew. She smiled, and moved her head, towards the inland path. He had never been there. The north end of the island was nothing more
than
rocks and forest. Not even the
Indian
s visited there, as a rule. But Yarico went everywhere, a spirit of the forest, of the pools and of the mountain. A bloodstained, bloodthirsty spirit

Here was madness. Because when she released him, he followed her, where he should have taken to his heels. But Father had gone, across the ocean. As she knew, too. Here was no childlike savage, merely because she spoke a different tongue. And perhaps, no vicious monster, either, merely because she drank human blood. It occurred to him that she was a woman, much older than himself, although surely younger in years, moving through life with the singleminded-ness of any woman. A life in which he was included. His whole being became thrilled at the conception. Because this island was his life, now. This island, and Yarico. His gaze was once again held by the undulating bu
tt
ocks.

Which ceased movement, as she turned and gazed at him, allowing her delighted smile to travel from his ankles to his eyes. She could not see inside his breeches, but she knew she had obtained what she wanted. She pointed to the mountain, shrugged her shoulders, and gave a delightful li
tt
le shriek of laughter as she released her cloth. Edward could not resist a glance at the ground, at the leaves and the coral outcrops and the endless creatures which would surely inhabit this world. Or did creatures ma
tt
er at a time like tins?

Nothing ma
tt
ered. He was back in school, and the school was at Tyburn. He lay on his back, and his breeches were being removed by a fiendish executioner, whose fingers were light as snowilakes and whose smile continued to shroud him. He was helpless, and deliberately made himself more so, arms spread and legs spread, huge manhood launched at the sky, quivering and begging. Only this time he did not hate.

And with all the skill of a practised torturer, she enjoyed her conquest, si
tt
ing between his legs, holding him in both hands and flicking him gentiy with her thumbs, her mouth opening and shu
tt
ing, her teeth gleaming and disappearing behind the licking red tongue, until he diought he would burst. But with the certainty of knowledge, she timed his thrust, turning on to her hands and knees, away from
him
, yet still reaching behind herself to guide him, to feel his belly pressed against her bu
tt
ocks. And still she laughed.

Wliile she burned. With a fire which seemed to consume him as well.