PIRATE: Privateer (33 page)

*

A
NOTHER FULL DAY
dragged past. It was not until close to sunset that the door to his cell swung open, and Mr Reeve walked in. The change in the
secretary’s manner and appearance was a shock. He looked wan, untidy, his wig askew and – for some reason – shamefaced. His air of bustling efficiency was gone. Now his manner was
both hesitant and demoralized.

‘Mr Reeve, thank you for coming to see me,’ began Hector. Over the secretary’s shoulder he could see a warder, a man this time, standing at the open door and supervising the
interview.

‘I came as quickly as I could,’ said Reeve. He glanced about him, looking for a chair on which to sit down. But there was only the single bench.

‘My friends and I have been arrested for piracy, for joining the French. I hope you’ll be able to set matters straight,’ said Hector.

The secretary held up his hand to stop him. ‘Sadly, I’m no longer kept informed of what is going on.’

Hector blinked in surprise.

Reeve’s shoulders seemed to sag a little. ‘Lord Inchiquin is very sick and has gone to stay in the countryside. This oppressive weather in town only makes his illness worse. His
day-to-day duties are now being performed by a select committee of the Assembly.’

‘So I was told,’ said Hector, ‘but surely your office still functions.’

Reeve shook his head. ‘I am passed by. My appointment is as secretary to the Governor. Technically, if he is not in post, I have no authority.’

‘Surely you will be able to verify that my commission as a privateer is genuine. You drafted it,’ said Hector.

The secretary looked embarrassed. ‘Indeed I did, and in good faith.’

‘So why can’t you consider it now?’

‘Because to do so would injure Lord Inchiquin.’ Reeve saw Hector’s puzzled expression. ‘As I explained at the time, a privateer’s commission is
exceptional.’

Hector was so baffled that, without meaning to, he spoke sharply, ‘Nevertheless you wrote out a commission, took it to Lord Inchiquin to sign, and arranged for me to have the
Speedy
Return
and provisions from government stores.’

The secretary looked pained. ‘That is the problem. Lord Inchiquin should have waited for your commission to be approved by London. Instead he acted hastily and allowed the
Speedy
Return
to sail.’

Hector felt as if the walls of the cell were closing in around him. ‘I don’t see how that affects matters now.’

Reeve adopted an apologetic tone. ‘Please, Mr Lynch, you have no idea to what lengths the planters will go to be rid of Lord Inchiquin. They hate and resent him. If they can show that he
issued an illegal commission and allowed government stores to be used, they could hurt him badly. Even get him dismissed.’

Hector glared at the distressed man so fiercely that Reeve dropped his gaze.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Reeve. ‘My loyalty is to His Lordship.’

‘So you cannot help me?’ said Hector bitterly.

‘Not at this time. Maybe when His Lordship has recovered his health and taken up the reins of government again.’

‘But that may be too late! Here they have a short way of dealing with pirates,’ Hector burst out.

Reeve flinched. ‘If there’s anything I can do in a private capacity, please tell me.’

Hector thought furiously. He and his companions were now friendless and abandoned in Port Royal. No one would even know they were being held in gaol. ‘There is one thing you can do,’
he said sourly. ‘I’m told that there is a young woman recently come to Port Royal. She’s in her early twenties, good-looking, with dark chestnut hair, and speaks with a slight
Spanish accent. If you could try to trace her and tell her where she can reach me, I would be very obliged.’

The secretary looked relieved that there was something he could do to ease his conscience. ‘This woman, does she have a name?’

‘She is called Maria. If she is using her married name, it is Lynch. She is my wife.’

Reeve was looking even more penitent than before as he moved towards the cell door.

‘Stop!’ said Hector. A last-minute thought had occurred to him.

The secretary turned and lingered, though the look on his drawn and weary face told Hector he could see no point in staying any longer.

‘Mr Reeve, there is someone else who might be able to assist if you could contact him on my behalf.’

The secretary raised an eyebrow enquiringly, without any enthusiasm. Clearly he thought that it was unlikely that anyone could help Hector.

Hector chose his words carefully. ‘When I was in Cartagena, an important merchant assured me that he knew someone here in Port Royal who would intervene on my behalf when I came to
trial.’

‘An implausible claim,’ observed Reeve, regaining a touch of his old rigour.

‘I had been of assistance to the merchant, saved his son, and he felt that he was in my debt. He said someone in Port Royal owed him a favour. This man would know when to help me. Do you
have any idea who that might be?’

Reeve pondered the question before he answered, speaking cautiously. ‘My first thought would be that he was referring to Señor Pimiento, the asiento representative here. He oversees
the purchase and shipping of slaves to the Spanish colonies under licence and is in regular contact with Cartagena. But Señor Pimiento could hardly be able to fill the role as your
mysterious benefactor. He has no power in the colony.’

‘It would be someone of importance, someone capable of influencing a judge and sentencing.’ Hector tried not to sound desperate, but he had to follow up any possible lead that might
result in his release and that of his friends.

Reeve spread his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘This unknown person will be keeping his connection with Cartagena a very close secret. If his relationship with your friend in Cartagena
is so firm, then it must have been built up over many years, from a time when the Spanish were our enemies. That was treason.’ He gave a thin smile. ‘What you claim is interesting. At
one time I thought I had my hands on all the levers of power in Jamaica, and knew all that went on. But it seems that I was mistaken.’

*

C
APTAIN
B
LACKMORE
was strolling beside Maria as he and his family returned from Sunday service. The Blackmore townhouse was only
a five-minute walk from St Paul’s, the church favoured by the wealthier citizens of Port Royal. To an observer it would have seemed that the planter was being courteous, falling in step
beside the governess of his children and chatting to her casually as they returned home along the seafront. His mother and three children were a few steps behind, out of earshot. The little group
was passing the battery of a dozen cannon known as Morgan’s Line in honour of the late Governor.

‘This pirate Lynch is back in our custody,’ said Blackmore conversationally, though keeping his voice low. ‘He and his accomplices were caught with sacks of loot, taken out of
English and Spanish ships. He even used a French privateer flag.’

He gave Maria an enquiring sideways glance. ‘He’s of average height, fair complexion, dark brown hair, and has hazel eyes. In his late twenties. Does that sound familiar?’

When she said nothing, he added, ‘He’s a fluent Spanish speaker, with a trace of a Galician accent. Surely that should place him if he is your husband.’

Maria kept her head down, struggling not to let her emotions show. Hector was in Port Royal but in terrible trouble. She had to make contact with him, discover if there was a way to help him.
She was very conscious of Blackmore’s gaze. To some it might have seemed kindly and avuncular. But it made her skin crawl.

She avoided answering Blackmore’s question directly. ‘Have the authorities dealt with him severely?’ she asked.

Blackmore smiled grimly. ‘Not yet. He’s in the Marshalsea prison, along with his accomplices. I expect the trial will be held within a week. No question about the verdict. After that
my colleagues and I will decide what’s to be done.’

Maria paused in her stride and looked to her right, out across the glassy sea, as if to admire the view. It had the advantage of turning her face away from Blackmore, and it meant that the three
children and their grandmother would catch them up. There was no point in continuing the conversation.

Blackmore lowered his voice still further. ‘If that man is your husband, I can arrange for you to have a meeting with him.’

Maria resisted the temptation. She knew it was a trick. If she admitted that Hector was her husband, Blackmore would take advantage of the fact. It was better to lie to him. ‘My husband
speaks no Spanish. This Lynch must be a stranger.’

She could tell by his cold stare that he did not believe her. There was just time for him to murmur one last comment. ‘Nevertheless I think it would be better if you met him. My
information may be incorrect in some details.’ He turned to address his mother, who had joined them. ‘I’m arranging for you to go back to the plantation tomorrow. I have little
confidence in our manager there. The children can stay on with me for a couple of days. There’s a meeting of the Assembly tomorrow and it will be a chance for them to see their father at
work. Their governess can bring them to the public gallery when I am speaking.’

It was neatly done, Maria thought. Blackmore had reminded her of his importance and at the same time got his mother safely out of the way. She decided that for the next few nights she would move
into the children’s room, in case the captain came knocking at her bedroom door.

*

T
HE WEATHER BROKE
on Tuesday. The day dawned with no trace of the overcast that had blighted the town for more than a week. In his cell Hector could see
the patch of blue that had replaced the sullen drab in the single window and hear the voices of passers-by, more cheerful now the sun was shining. He had worked out that the chief warder liked to
spend his afternoons in the tavern. He always smelled of drink in the evening, and it was in his absence that his son ran the prison. Hector had no way of knowing if his conversation with Secretary
Reeve would produce news of Maria or some sort of message from Señor Corbalan’s mysterious contact in Port Royal. There was nothing he could do but wait and, being accustomed to the
need for patience during long sea voyages, he was able to spend most of his time stretched out on the bench in his cell, dozing.

The lad’s creaky voice roused him. ‘You have a visitor.’

Hector sat up so sharply that he nearly fell to the brick floor. He swung his feet to the ground and turned. Maria was standing in the open doorway. He felt giddy for a moment as if about to
faint. Then in two quick strides he was across the room and had thrown his arms around her. He hugged her so fiercely to him that he felt her struggling to draw breath. But she had her arms locked
around him and the two of them stood there, without the need for words. Looking past her he saw the warder son standing in the open doorway and watching them open-mouthed. The lad had probably
never seen such a display of emotion. With his eyes Hector beseeched the boy to leave them alone. The lad understood. Without a word, he stepped back and gently closed the door.

‘Let me look at you,’ said Maria finally. He slid his arms lower until they were around her waist and she could lean back and see him. Her face was radiant, filled with love and
relief. He bent forward and kissed her hungrily, feeling her body curve forward again against his. It was the sensation that he had craved. They stayed like that, the whole world distilled into the
space around them. Finally Maria pulled away, though she still kept her arms around his neck. Neither of them was able to give up the other’s touch.

‘Thank God, I’ve found you,’ she said. Her voice was husky with emotion, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

‘No need to cry over it,’ said Hector softly. With his thumb he wiped away the tear. ‘How long have you been in Port Royal?’

Before she could answer, another surge of emotion ambushed him and again he had to hug her close. For several more minutes they simply stood and held one another.

Eventually Maria, holding his hand, moved towards the bench. ‘I need to sit down,’ she said. She produced a small handkerchief from the sleeve of her dress and dabbed her eyes.
‘I came as soon as I knew where you were. All that matters is that you are alive and well.’

She put away the handkerchief, stroked the back of his hand, and then rested her head on his shoulders. He could detect a faint perfume in her hair. Without raising her head, she murmured,
‘There must be some way to get you out of here.’

‘There is,’ he answered firmly. ‘I’ve told Mr Reeve that there is someone who can help me, someone influential who can get the charges quashed and arrange my release.
I’ve asked Mr Reeve to find this man.’

She looked puzzled. ‘Mr Reeve? Who’s he?’

It was Hector’s turn to be bemused. ‘Lord Inchiquin’s secretary. The man who told you where to find me.’

She frowned. ‘I found you for myself. My employer told me.’ There was a silence and then Hector said, ‘Perhaps I should start at the beginning. Jacques, Jezreel and I –
and a man named Bartaboa – have been arrested for piracy, and accused of working with the French.’

Maria nodded. ‘That’s what I was told.’

‘But it is a mistake. Lord Inchiquin issued me with a commission as a privateer. Unfortunately he is no longer in charge in Jamaica, and cannot vouch for me. Nor can his secretary, Mr
Reeve. He’s the man I thought had found you.’

‘But what about this person who may be able to help you?’

Hector rubbed his chin. ‘The trouble is, I don’t know who he is. If I did, I would get word to him.’

‘How do you know he exists?’

‘It’s a long story, but a Spanish merchant in Cartagena promised that he would arrange for this man to help me because this man owes him a favour.’

‘But your friend in Cartagena didn’t tell you his name?’

Hector shook his head. ‘No. Maybe you could find out who he is more quickly than Reeve. You seem to be good at making enquiries. You found me here.’ He gave her hand an affectionate
squeeze.