HF - 01 - Caribee (52 page)

She sucked air into her lungs. She had been so wrapped up in her own terror that she had forgo
tt
en those words. She raised her head and looked
through
the throng, and foun
d Wapisiane, standing by hi
mself beyond the imme
di
at
e crowd, arms folded across his chest, staring at her. He sought only to terrify her. Warner's woman must be made to grovel for her life. Whatever fate he intended for her, afterwards, this was a necessary first stage. Aline stared at him for several seconds, summoning
all her resolution. Then she th
rew back her head and laughed.

'You'll find the place has changed,' Robert Anderson said as he put the tiller over and brought the lugger round on the starboard tack. The wind was off the shore, and now they were moving into the shelter of the Christ child.

‘I
'd not expected less,' Edward said, and shaded his eyes. Changed, was hardly a reasonable description. He saw first of all the French trading vessels anchored in a cluster in Great Road, and beyond, a series of docks and je
tt
ies protruding from the beach, and only then the houses of Basseterre. Here were dainty balconies and sloping roofs, a clock tower and what appeared to be a cathedral, all in white wood, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. But already Brimstone Hill was
looming into sight, and even th
is was different to his memory of it. In place of a bare rock with two cannon peering over its lip he looked at crenellated ba
tt
lements sheltering a broadside, and behind t
he roof of a barracks, while abo
ve the fortress the cross of St George flu
tt
ered lazily in the wind. Soon they were off Sandy Point, scarcely inferior to Basseterre, although the house
s were perhaps less imposing, an
d the streets more haphazard. Streets, where there had been but one? But now the town stretched in every direction, quite overlying the old tobacco field, while the forest itself had been cleared back to the very foothills of old Misery, and replanted entirely in the slow waving, graceful canestalks.

A sloop was standing out of the roadstead, and now she hove to and hailed them. 'Dandy, of St Ki
tt
s. What ship is that?
’

Anderson glanced at his governor.

"You'd best tell him, and warn him,' Edward said.

Anderson cupped his hands. 'Susannah, of Antigua. You'll keep a watch for Caribs.'

'Caribs, you say?" queried the captain of the Dandy.

'Aye. They a
tt
acked
us yesterday, destroyed the settl
ement, and took prisoner the Governor's wife.'

Edward walked away from the tiller. There was a sensation: The Governor's wife. He looked down into the waist of the lugger, where the men and women clustered to stare at the shore. They were crawling back, with their tails between their legs. And as yet no one in St Ki
tt
s was even aware of their plight. What sort of a welcome would they find? What sort of a welcome would he find? Home the prodigal, the beaten man, who wanted only blood. But where would he find those willing to spill their blood for Edward Warner?

The sloop was gone, and the lugger's draft was shallow enough to allow her alongside the largest of the je
tt
ies. Edward scooped Joan into his arms—she had wailed the night, a mixture of hunger and alarm, no doubt, and only recently fallen into an exhausted sleep—took li
tt
le Tom by the hand, and stepped ashore, to be stopped by the armed guard on the dock.

'You'll be from Antigua. Your business, if you please.'

'My name is Edward Warner,' Edward said. 'And I'd be obliged if you'd stand out of my way. And out of the way of my people.'

The man scratched his head. But he stood aside. Edward handed Joan to Tom, and walked up the dock to the sand, to gaze in amazement at the series of buildings which dominated the foreshore, some distance to his right. The first stood close to the edge of the nearest canefield, separated from it by a stream of water, clearly man-made, for he recollected no stream there in the past, but which now came tumbling down the sloping fields, perhaps laid out from the very spring where Yarico had first taken him swimming, when they had been children. Now its purpose was less to irrigate than to drive, for the rushing water forced a huge wheel
into constant rotation, and thi
s in turn drove three massive rollers, round and round, placed so close to each other that the stalks of cane being fed into the first by the a
tt
entive slaves were ground into straw; while the juice dripped through the sla
tt
ed floor
into a wooden duct which ran of
f for a distance of some twenty yards to the next shed, where it entered a huge copper vat, beneath
which was an immense fire, constantl
y being fed, as Father had prophesied, by the crushed cane stalks, while the boiling juice was stirred and skimmed by another group of black men. At the far end
another duct took the by now th
ickened liquid into cooling pans, where it slowly solidified, and waiting here there were several more slaves to cart off each filled pan to the third shed, where more of
their
compatriots were waiting to put it through a final purifying process, separating the molasses from the crystals, these last being placed in casks, over the top of which a clay paste was set in place, to keep the sugar fine until it was ready for shipment.

The whole scene was one of such bustle and endeavour on the part of the blacks, and such evident discomfort too, for the heat was intense, the fires adding their efforts to that of the sun, and naturally the aroma as well as the presence of so much sweetness seemed to a
tt
ract every insect from the entire forest, that Edward almost forgot his own misery.

'Edward? Edward? By God, but what brings you to St Ki
tt
s?'

Philip, wearing a white shirt over loose white breeches, and brown boots, and carrying no weapon save a whip. His hat was a broad-brimmed straw.

Edward squeezed his hand.
‘I
was but admiring the industry.' He glanced at the whip. 'Are they lazy, then?'

'As lazy a pack of devils as you'll ever have encountered. But they respect the lash.' He peered at his brother. 'But what ails you, man?' He stared at the Antigua people, already surrounded by a crowd of women from the town. 'And all your people? There has been trouble?'

‘I
would speak with Father.'

‘I
shall send for him on the instant. Meanwhile....' he waved his hand. 'Mother will be pleased to care for you.'

Mother. She too had adapted herself to the climate and her circumstances. She wore the pale blue which was her favourite colour, in linen, with certainly nothing more than a single shift beneath; the sunlight silhoue
tt
ed her legs through her skirt. No gloves, but a wide-brimmed hat, to which was added a parasol carried by an a
tt
entive Negress. And of course, all the perfume she had ever enjoyed.

'Edward.' She extended her hand and he bent his head to kiss it. 'How good to see you, and after all these years. How is Aline? And the children?
’

Edward turned; li
tt
le Tom staggered up the road behind him, carrying Joan.

'But....' Anne Warner's mouth opened into a round O, and she laughed. 'You use the lad as a nursemaid? Capital.'

'He saved her life,' Edward said.

Anne's smile faded as quickly as it had come, and she frowned as she glanced from him to the boy, and then to the jabbering crowd by the waterfront. 'There has been some catastrophe here.'

‘If
I could speak with my father....'

‘I
am
here, boy.' Tom Warner came bustl
ing down from the canefields; he was dressed very much as his younger son, except that he carried a gold headed cane rather than a whip, and his face wore too deep a flush for health. But he moved with all the vigorous haste Edward remembered from the past. 'Edward. Tis good to see you. But there has been trouble?'

'A Carib raid, Father.'

'By God. You suffered losses?’

'We have buried fifteen women, seven children, and three men, Father.'

'Fifteen ... by Christ. You were defeated?'

'Outwi
tt
ed, Father. They made a feint a
tt
ack on St John's, and we marched across to repel them, and in the absence of our main force they landed at English Harbour. There were only
four men left to defend the settl
ement.'

'By God,' Tom said. 'Strategy, from savages. They took prisoners?'

'There are three people unaccounted for,' Edward said, speaking very slowly. 'Hal
Leaming
, who was in command in my absence, Yarico, and Aline.'

'Oh, my God,' Anne Warner whispered.

'By God,' Tom said, and stared at li
tt
le Tom and Joan. ‘Y
our son....'

i
s dead.'

‘
You'll take some wine,' Anne said. 'Come, Edward, dear Edward.' She grasped his arm. 'Tom. ...'

' Tis not the Carib custom to take female prisoners.'

These are not usual circumstances, Father.'

Tom frowned. There is some mystery
here. You had dealings with th
em in Antigua?'

‘I
have neither seen nor spoken with an
Indian
for two years, saving Yarico. But this business goes back farther than that. It is the work of Wapisiane.'

'Wapisiane? Wapisiane?
Was that not the name of Tegra
mond's heir?
’

'You never found his body, amongst the dead at Blood River.'

‘I
had assumed he had been.. . .' Tom glanced at his wife, and flushed.
‘You
mean you think he escaped?
’

‘I
know he escaped, Father, because I assisted him. I could not send him to his death. We met in the forest at the moment the assault started, and I persuaded him to leave. We had been friends.' 'By God,' Tom said.

'And yet he swore vengeance, against everything Warner.'

'And now he has claimed that vengeance,' Anne Warner said. 'Oh poor, poor Edward.'

'By God,' Tom said. 'We'll call a council. Aye, well call a council.'

Harry Judge took off his hat, and wiped sweat from his forehead. 'They're assembled, Tom,' he said. 'And I've sent messengers to Nevis and Montserrat, by fast sloop, to see how they feel down there, and also to be sure
that
the Caribs have gone south,'

'They will have gone sout
h,' Edward said. He had drunk thr
ee glasses of wine, but refused food. He could not perm
it a single morsel to pass his li
ps without risking the break down of the cocoon in which he had wrapped himself. He dared not risk thought, or imagination, or worst of all, memory. He could remember too much about the Caribs.

'Well, it'd be best to make sure. I've also doubled the sentries in the fort, Tom, and alerted the guard on Windward.'

'And the French?'

'Monsieur de Poincy is outside now.'

'You'd best meet him, Edward,' Tom said, rising from the table. 'He's a good man. No Belain there. Come in, monsieur, come in.'

De Poincy was as tall as Edward, thin, with a pointed beard and a curiously arrogant toss to his head whenever he spoke. But his voice was soft and his manner entirely courteous. He bowed to Anne Warner, and
then
held out his hand. 'Mr Warner. I have heard a great deal about you, and about your beautiful wife. It grieves me that our first meeting must take place in circumstances of such gravity.'

‘I
am honoured by your grief, monsieur.'

De Poincy gazed into his eyes for a moment, and then nodded.
‘I
have brought my principal officers with me, but you must speak with them later. We are very eager to discover what action you intend, what aid you seek, from us in St Ki
tt
s.'

There was a moment's silence, as the Warners exchanged glances. This question had been carefully avoided during the hours since Edward's arrival.

'Why, sir,' he said. It is my intention to regain possession of my wife.'

They stared at him. 'From the Caribs?' Philip asked at last.

'You must know th
at is impossible,' Judge said. 'The Caribs do not take prisoners, except. . . .' he hesitated.

'To eat them at the stake,' Edward said. 'Believe me, sir, I know the Caribs a deal be
tt
er than yourself. And I grieve for poor Hal
Leaming
. But they do not eat women, sir. They can perceive no advantage in it to themselves. Nor, as you say, do they take them prisoner. Their rule is to commit whatever mayhem they may choose upon their victims on the spot, and then murder them, on the spot.'