HF - 03 - The Devil's Own (55 page)

'Come up, Mr Lewis. Come up.' Holgate met the lieutenant at the top of the companion-way. 'What news, man, what news?'

Lewis's face was grim. 'The very worst, sir. There has been a battle off the Main, and Benbow has been worsted.' 'Benbow, defeated?' Holgate cried. 'DuCasse?' Kit asked.

'The same,' Lewis said. 'Mind you, gentlemen, there was little glory in it for the Frenchman. It would appear that there was cowardice amongst the English. Indeed Monsieur DuCasse recognized as much, and has written to Port Royal suggesting they be hanged.'

'Aye,' Holgate said thoughtfully. 'And I'll wager I can name at least two of their number. Wade for a start, and Hampton ... no doubt they influenced the rest. They would never accept the authority of a man from the lower deck. And Benbow?'

'Grievous wounded, Captain Holgate. 'Tis said he will lose a leg, if indeed his life can be saved.'

'And DuCasse runs free once again. You'll see we had reason to halt, Captain Hilton.'

'I've already begged your forgiveness, friend. You'll but set me on the beach before taking your station.'

Holgate nodded, but Lewis was frowning.

'I did not halt you, gentlemen, to impart that news, grave as it is. My message concerns Captain Hilton.'

'What?' Kit cried. 'What, man? Out with it.'

'Sir William begs me to inform you, sir, that he has been relieved of his post, and is already on his way back to England.'

'Staple
ton gone?' Holgate said. 'But

'He lays the deed at the door of the planters, sir,' Lewis said. 'To condemn their most prominent member is to make an enemy of the entire breed, and so it was felt by Her Majesty's ministers that government would become impossible. But by the same token, he begged me to inform Captain Hilton that life in Antigua for Philip Warner's enemy will become impossible. He suggests, sir, that you remove yourself to St Kitts, or even farther afield.'

'By God,' Kit said. 'Does His Excellency suppose that I am afraid to face any one of that scum with a sword in my hand?'

'By no means, sir,' Lewis agreed. 'But it is not your face he is concerned with. Tempers have run high these last years, and angry men may stoop to no reasonable act.'

Holgate glanced at Kit. 'I can easily alter course for St Kitts. You have but to say the word.'

'And you know that I must return to Antigua, at least for a while. There are people there whose safety requires it.'

'Well, sir,' Lewis said, looking very distressed.

'And of course much will depend on the character of the new governor,' Holgate said. 'Any word of him?'

'None, sir, at the moment. The islands are to be ruled separately by the Speakers of their Houses, pending the appointment.'

'Trumbull, by God,' Kit said. 'There is at least an honest man.'

'Honesty is not always a buffer against angry majorities,' Holgate reminded him. 'None the less, we shall make for English Harbour with all speed. My thanks, Mr Lewis.'

Lewis was now looking definitely embarrassed. He glanced from Captain Holgate to Kit, and then back again, and his face was red. 'Aye,' he said at last. 'You'll be there by nightfall. 'Tis what must happen, I've no doubt. I'll take my leave, sir. And wish you Godspeed, Captain Hilton.'

Kit frowned after him. 'Now what the devil did he mean by those words?'

'Less his words,' Holgate agreed. 'Than his manner. You do not suppose ...'

'There has already been some disturbance? By God, sir, make sail, I beg of you, and land me at Falmouth.'

The frigate could not approach the shore too closely, and dropped its anchor in the centre of the bay. Kit was already waiting in the gangway as the boat was swung out.

"You'll understand that I must make haste for Sandy Point, Kit,' Holgate explained.

'I understand that, Captain. There are sufficient boats here to bring me across if I should feel it necessary. If I have to I'll seize one, by God. With Agrippa as crew we'll have no trouble.' He shook hands, and climbed down the ladder. 'Give way, lads, give way.'

So yet again he approached a hostile shore, he thought. But there surely was only his imagination loosing itself without cause. English Harbour? Where he and Lilian had walked on the sand often enough, hand in hand, acknowledging the greetings of the fishermen who were all that lived here? Certainly this place had not changed. The cottages still clung to die edge of the beach, the boats needing repair were dragged up, for the main part of the fishing fleet was out, the fluttering skirts still denoted where the fishermen's wives were gathered for an afternoon gossip. But now they were straying closer to the shore to watch the frigate and the approaching boat.

The keel grated, and the oars were backed. Kit made his way forward and jumped to the sand. The coxswain saluted and the oars were thrust down again. Kit adjusted his sword belt, felt the comforting weight of the pistols in his pockets, turned to face the houses and the clustering trees. The women stared at him. He knew most of them by sight if not by name. He walked up the beach, the sand crunching under his boots, and raised his hat. 'Good day to you, ladies. 'Tis good to be home.'

Still they stared at him, in horror it seemed to his eyes. But they could not yet have learned the result of the trial. And now other faces appeared at windows and at doors. But for their complexion he might almost have supposed himself back in the Carib village beyond the Valley of Desolation. Certainly these people seemed to regard him as a creature from another world.

He shrugged, and walked on, taking the path by the shore for Falmouth, a mile distant, and the cottage. On his left the longboat had already regained the frigate and was being taken up, even as the anchor was hoisted and the sails were loosed. So, Jean had once again triumphed, even if, as he had been quick to recognize, the honour of the victory was not his alone. But what would happen now? Would he return amongst the islands, burning and plundering? Or would he not consider it worth his while
, after his earlier visits. Cer
tainly, with the destruction of Benbow's fleet the Caribbean was his.

The trees on his right thinned, and he saw the cottage. How peaceful it looked, surrounded by its flower garden, waiting apart from the main body of houses farther down the road. And how deserted it appeared. But for the open windows on the upper floor he would have supposed it empty. No doubt they were enjoying their afternoon meal, like everyone else unaware of the disaster which had overtaken their lives. He had not properly assimilated the event himself; his sole concern since the end of the trial had been to get home.

He pushed the gate open, paused in surprise. The path, which Agrippa had ever kept neat and tidy, and smoothed, was scuffed and pitted, and already weeds were attempting to thrust their way through the disordered earth. And the flowerbeds to either side were also scattered, although farther back they seemed in good enough order, if they all needed weeding.

He reached the front door, an uneasy feeling causing his belly to roll. The door was locked. He banged on it with his first, and shouted. 'Holloa. Holloa there. Is nobody home? Agrippa?'

There were startled sounds from above him, and he stepped back to look up, gazed at Astrid Christianssen in amazement. 'Astrid? What brings you here?'

She regarded him with equal astonishment, but hers was tinged with a strange mixture of distress and relief. 'Kit? Oh, my God, Kit.'

'There is something the matter? By God. Lilian is ill? Open up, Astrid. Open up.'

Her head disappeared, and he waited, looking over his shoulder, and espying some of the children from English Harbour, lurking in the bushes on the far side of the path. They must have followed him the entire way. The rascals, and with dusk coming on too. Their parents would have sticks in their hands.

But why had they followed him the whole way?

The front door swung inwards, and Astrid stood there. Her face was lined and tired, her shoulders seemed to sag.

'Astrid?' He stepped inside, closed the door behind him, looked around the parlour. Nothing seemed to have changed. 'Where is Agrippa?'

He heard the rasp of air in her nostrils as she breathed. 'Dead.'

'Dead?' For a moment the word did not register. Then he seized her shoulders. 'Dead? Agrippa? But ...' he thrust her aside and ran for the stairs.

'Kit,' she shrieked, grasping at his arm. 'Do not go up. I beg of you, Kit. Do not go up.'

He checked and turned, slowly. 'Lilian ...'

'Is alive, and will be well. Perhaps. But do not go up, Kit. I beg of you. Do not go up.'

'Not go to Lilian? Then what has happened to her?'

Astrid licked her lips, and her knees seemed to give way. She sat on the chair by the door, a collapsed woman. 'She will be well,' she muttered.

There was a sound, and Kit peered up the stairs. Abigail stood there. Her belly had not yet started to swell, and she seemed no different to the girl he had left behind. But she no longer smiled. It was difficult to imagine that face ever smiling.

'Captin,' she said. 'You'll get them, Captin. You'll get those who killed my man.'

Kit instinctively took another step. Then halted.

He had known Lilian, always poised and dignified. And overwhelmingly healthy. Besides, he distrusted his own emotions at this moment. He could identify none of them, save a raging fury.

He went to the sideboard, poured a glass of rum, returned to stand by the white woman. 'Drink this.'

She raised her head, and frowned at him. But she took the glass in both hands, and drank.

'Now tell me what happened, and when, and how, and who was responsible.'

'Four days ago,' Astrid whispered. 'That close, Kit. That close.'

'You were here?'

She shook her head. 'I could only gather, from Abigail. From ... people.' 'And Lilian is unharmed?'

'Unharmed,' Astrid muttered. 'Aye, Kit, the surgeon says she is unharmed.'

'Then what happened?' he asked again.

'Four days ago,' Abigail came down the steps. 'But it was night. A band of horsemen appeared at the gate, Captin. They were masked, with hoods over their faces, and only slits for their eyes.'

"White men?'

'Oh, yes, they were white men, Captin. Lilian even thought she recognized one or two of their voices. But she could not be sure.'

'And what happened?'

'Three of them dismounted, and came to the door. It was late, you understand, Captin, and we had retired. But the noise of the banging awoke us and Agrippa went down, unbolted the door and opened it to see what the matter was, and Captin, without saying a word, they ran him through with their swords, again and again and again. I was at the head of the stairs, there, looking down. He died right where you is standing, Captin. If you look close you will yet see the bloodstains.'

Kit's fingers curled into fists.

'We supposed we was also to be murdered, Captin. Me, I hid under the bed. But it was Lilian they wanted. She says she was unable to move for a few seconds, but when they started towards her she ran for the bedroom and bolted the door. But Captin, they knocked it down in a single charge. She had no weapon save a single pistol, and this was struck from her hand before she could aim it. Then she was dragged down here, and taken out of the house, and set on a horse.'

'Did she not cry out for help?'

'She screamed until her voice cracked, Kit,' Astrid said. 'But Falmouth remained shuttered and dark. 'Tis certain the villagers had been warned not to interfere.'

'They raped her?'

Astrid's head moved to and fro. 'No. No, she was not violated, Kit. Far worse.'

'Worse? Worse than death or assault? By Christ, Astrid, you had best speak plain.'

'They took her away, she says, into the canefields. They rode for a good time, and she cannot be sure of the direction. But when they reached their selected place they halted their mounts and set her down. And the place had been prepared. There was a fire, and barrels, she said.'

Kit stared at the woman, his mouth dry. Abigail at last started to sob.

'They held her down and cut off her hair, Kit. They cut off every strand, and then they lathered her with soap and shaved the rest. But not yet were they satisfied, Kit. They took away her nightdress, and applied tar to her body. They coated her with hot tar, Kit, from her neck to her toes, and accompanied the deed with every act of lewdity that you can imagine, save the ultimate. Then she was rolled in the dust and covered all over with leaves and filth, and placed in a cart.'