Galleon (7 page)

“And the buccaneers are not going to stay here idle and drinking rum and chasing the women in the bordellos, for as long as that.”

“No,” Ned said firmly and, winking at Aurelia, added: “There’s such a poor choice of women for them, too.”

Luce wasted no time in appointing his legislative council and both Ned and Thomas were notified that they had been chosen to serve. The following day they received a notice in the morning that they were required to attend a meeting that evening at “the Governor’s residence” in Port Royal. This, a postscript added, was the house previously occupied by the acting Governor.

“He’s got to be trained,” Ned grumbled. “Evening meetings mean we have to fight our way through swarms of mosquitoes. Why not morning meetings? Or even afternoons?”

When they arrived for the meeting, Ned and Thomas found five large candles burning on what had been Heffer’s desk, which was surrounded by chairs on three sides, the fourth side having only one chair on which the new Governor was to sit. Heffer emerged from the small crowd when Ned and Thomas came into the room and, keeping them to one side, said quietly: “The Governor has asked me to introduce you to any councillor you might not know…”

“Don’t know any of ’em,” Thomas said bluntly. He looked at the men, still standing round talking. “That doesn’t surprise me. Sorry-looking lot, aren’t they?”

“Er…well, they’re tradesmen, of course, and not used to this sort of thing. You gentlemen are going to have to be patient and teach them.”

“Teach them!” Thomas exclaimed. “What do
we
know about councils? Ned gives the orders to the Brethren and they obey; on board my ship I give the orders and the men obey. No discussing and debating!”

He was thankful Diana could not hear him and as he caught Ned’s eye he saw the same thoughts were crossing his mind about Aurelia. The sisterhood of the Coast, the identities known only to the two men, had more influence than all the Brethren!

“No, quite,” Heffer agreed. “But now we have a Governor and a legislative council, so you gentlemen must keep to the agenda! Your turn will come last.”

Ned stared at Heffer: it was the first time he had heard the man say anything which sounded even whimsical, let alone amusing. “If the agenda is your responsibility, write down just one item: ‘Any other business’.”

“I’ve already done that,” Heffer said. “The final item. That’s
your
turn!”

Heffer found he did not have to lead Mr Yorke and Sir Thomas to the other councillors: as soon as they realized who the men were, they hurried across the room and formed a line. Ned was amused to notice that already they had decided their own order of precedence, probably based on each man’s prosperity.

The first introduced by Heffer was a squat and fat-faced man with a jolly manner who was obviously quite in awe of Ned. “I’m O’Leary, the ship chandler – I’m glad to meet you, sir. I hope I can look forward to having you for a customer.”

Ned grinned and shook his head. “Not unless the Dons stop supplying us for nothing!”

O’Leary laughed cheerfully. “Don’t let the Governor hear you say that – I hear we’re supposed to be at peace with Spain now.”

“Has anyone told the Dons?” Thomas made no attempt to keep his voice low as he introduced himself.

After O’Leary came Kinnock, the island’s pawnbroker, whose narrow and mean-looking face had already marked him down in Ned’s mind as a moneylender, pawnbroker or apothecary. His skin was white and he was one of those unlucky men who perspired heavily, both naturally and because he drank heavily.

His pallid complexion was emphasized by a sharp red nose so heavily veined that it appeared to be covered with crude purple lace. A pair of long moustaches once blond were now stained by the smoke from pipe tobacco and sagging because they formed a natural catchment of the perspiration streaming down his forehead and missing his eyebrows. His tapered beard was so thin that it reminded Ned of a discarded paint brush.

Kinnock obviously realized that Nature had treated him unfairly and equally obviously was under no illusion that most men disliked him. However, he made the mistake of assuming his unpopularity was due to his trade, whereas it was caused entirely by his ungracious manner, obvious meanness and obsession with the value and price of everything.

He had no sooner been introduced to Ned than he was fingering Ned’s sword. “That’s from Toledo, Mr Yorke, I’ll stake my reputation on it. Where else can you find gold wire inlaid like that? Any time you want to sell it, Mr Yorke, you call on me!”

“I’m sure Mr Yorke will,” Heffer said hastily, and turned Ned so that he met the next person. “You don’t know Mr Fraser, who imports most of our cloth and thread,” he said, and before he could complete the introduction Fraser was shaking Ned’s hand with a firm grasp, and turning to do the same with Thomas.

“I’ve been wanting to meet you two gentlemen for a long time,” he said eagerly. He was a burly man, round-faced and cheerful – every child’s idea, Ned thought, of a kindly uncle who brought a present when he visited.

“Yes, I’ve wanted to thank you. Without you and your men, we tradesmen here would long ago been killed by the Dons – or be trying to scratch a living in somewhere like Barbados!”

Ned smiled and then said: “General Heffer and his men played a part, too, don’t forget.”

“Best we
do
forget it,” Fraser said amiably, eyeing Heffer. “The only thing his men could do against the Spanish is let their trollops give them the pox!”

Heffer flushed but did not argue – an indication of Fraser’s wealth, Ned thought – or the accuracy of his comment.

“Tell me, Mr Yorke,” Fraser asked quietly, “what have you heard about giving the island back to Spain? Giving us all to Spain, rather.”

Ned thought of the fate of the bearer of bad tidings. “I’m sure our new Governor will soon have something to say about it – after all, this is the first meeting of his new legislative council.”

“We’ll send him packing if he tries to humbug us,” Fraser growled. “The
Convertine
frigate hasn’t sailed yet!”

Heffer coughed and took Ned’s arm. “There are several more people you should meet before the council starts its meeting,” he said hurriedly. “Please excuse us, Mr Fraser.”

With two exceptions, the rest of the members echoed Fraser’s question about the Spaniards. The two exceptions were men who Ned remembered were planning to set up a business importing slaves. From the Main, he assumed: the Spanish
asiento
claimed the monopoly of slave trading from the Gulf of Guinea to the Main and the Indies. To bring in slaves, this pair would first have to buy them from Spanish traders. Then Ned remembered how he knew of the pair: for a long time they had been protesting to Heffer about the Brethren’s activities against Spain, complaining that the buccaneers were wrecking any chance of trade with the Main. At the time their protests had seemed ludicrous, but now, in the light of the news from England, they seemed sinister.

Parry, he was one of the men, a Welshman. Who was his partner? Shaw, that was his name. Parry had wanted to arrange for Spaniards to make an official visit to Jamaica – even suggested, so Heffer said, that their leader should be given some sort of present, a piece of silver plate or something.

Even the humourless Heffer had seen the irony of that, because any piece of silver plate given to the Dons must certainly have been captured from them in the first place. Although Port Royal boasted a silversmith (a very good one, as it happened) he was a wild man with a great hatred for the Spanish. Even now he was working on pieces of silver which were to designs that Aurelia and Diana had drawn for him, but anyone suggesting he did anything for a Spaniard (unless a buccaneer) was likely to get his throat cut, albeit with a silver knife.

Heffer pulled an enormous watch from his fob pocket and clucked like a scrawny hen recalling strayed chicks.

“Gentlemen, please be seated: the Governor will be here any moment.” He looked at Ned and Thomas, and pointed to the two chairs on the right side of the desk. “If you two gentlemen will sit there…”

“Why?” Thomas demanded. “I like to face people.”

“A matter of precedence,” Heffer said mischievously.

Preceded by his secretary, William Hamilton, who marched with all the self-important strutting of an auctioneer and tapped the floor three times with his gold-topped cane, demanding silence, Sir Harold Luce walked into the room, bowing slightly as he held the scabbard of his ceremonial sword with all the wariness of a passing adult eyeing a playful child’s broomstick.

“Forgot to put his face on,” Thomas muttered. The Governor’s expression fluttered between embarrassment, welcome and stern resolve.

“Good evening, gentlemen, pray be seated.”

Obviously he had carefully rehearsed the phrase because in fact no one had risen: only Heffer was standing, having turned as if to greet the Governor.

“Ah, yes, well,” Sir Harold said, manoeuvring his sword scabbard so that he could sit down safely, “welcome, gentlemen. I am sorry I have not yet met each of you personally – with a few exceptions, of course – but I wish to send the minutes of our first executive council meeting to London in the
Convertine
, which is due to sail tomorrow. Now,” he said, his voice becoming brisker, “my secretary, Mr Hamilton, will give each of you a copy of the agenda for this first meeting of the council–”

“I hope this isn’t a precedent,” Fraser said.

“What isn’t a precedent, pray?” a puzzled Luce asked.

“Giving us the agenda at the meeting. Doesn’t give us time to consider any of the items.”

“No, quite,” Luce agreed warily, “but the
Convertine
…”

Fraser looked at the sheet of paper which the secretary had just given him. “Aye, well, I should send down word to the captain of the
Convertine
that he won’t be sailing for a day or two – not judging from items three and four – aye, and seven, too. And we’d better start looking for a bigger council chamber, too. I’ve got barns better than this hutch.”

Luce looked startled. “Well , Mr – ah…”

“Fraser,” the man said uncompromisingly, and spelled it out for good measure.

“Well, Mr Fraser, it all seems straightforward to me, I can’t see any reason to delay the
Convertine
.”

“There’s no reason to delay the
Convertine
,” Fraser agreed. “You’ll need something bigger than a frigate to carry the minutes of this meeting to London after we’ve talked about the items on the agenda.”

“To what items are you referring?” Sir Harold asked, not bothering to keep the chill out of his voice.

“Three, four and seven, of course!”

“Ah yes,” Luce said, as though talking to a child. “But of course item number ten is the important one.”

Fraser’s finger ran down the list. “What, the one that says ‘To hear the new constitution’?”

“Yes. I intend reading it to you.”

“Why is that so important?” Thomas asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowing as he realized that Fraser had not caught the significance of the triumphant tone in Luce’s voice.

“Ah yes,” Luce said, and Thomas noted that he would hate that phrase before many more hours had passed, “the constitution gives the Governor power to dissolve the legislative council.”

For a few moments the rest of the members did not grasp the meaning, but Ned asked at once: “What happens then?”

“Ah yes,” Luce said innocently, “then the Governor rules the island by decree.”

“You just give orders without being accountable to anyone, that’s what you mean?” Fraser demanded.

“That’s a crude way of describing governing by decree, but certainly–” Luce hesitated a moment and then decided to try to placate the men staring at him, “–certainly it means governing without the help and advice of you gentlemen.”

“Well, let’s get on with it,” Fraser growled.

Luce nodded, and began reading from a paper in front of him: it was the King’s commission establishing him as Governor of Jamaica, and conveying the King’s greeting to the island’s people. As soon as he had finished, Luce rolled up the scroll with a flourish and gave it to his secretary, who handled it as though any sudden movement might change the wording.

“Now,” Luce told the seated men, “your names have been suggested to me as suitable members of the legislative council. You will appreciate,” he said casually, “that few of you are known to me personally at this stage, so I might later suggest that certain of you resign to make way for – er, replacements.”

“The naughty boys will be sent out of the room,” Thomas commented to no one in particular. “Quite right too: can’t have teacher upset, can we.”

Luce tried to squeeze a smile to show that he could appreciate a joke, but obviously he suspected that Sir Thomas Whetstone was not joking. “Well, now you all have the agenda for this meeting. As you see, I have already dealt with the first item, reading my commission. The second item simply says, as you can see, ‘Agreement to serve’. As I have not yet received written acceptances from all you of my invitation to serve on the council, I will assume that anyone not now withdrawing from the room is in fact accepting. Yes? Good, I am sure we shall work well together.

“Now we come to the third item, ‘Paying off and disbanding the Army’. Yes, Mr Fraser,” he said holding up a hand, “I know you want to speak on the subject, but first please allow me to describe my instructions from the King–”

“From the Secretary for Trade and Foreign Plantations, more likely,” Thomas growled.

“Ah yes,” Luce said. “The Secretary was speaking in the King’s name, of course.”

“Of course,” Thomas agreed. “Please go on…”

Hurriedly, fearing more interruptions, Luce repeated what he had already told Ned and Thomas: he had brought out £12,247 to share among the 2,073 soldiers, representing their overdue pay and a gratuity.

“A total of less than six pounds a man,” Fraser commented.

“That’s the pay due to them,
and
a gratuity – what more can they expect?”

“Mr Fraser wasn’t thinking of that,” Thomas said, “he was thinking that £12,000 is a small price to pay for the defence of the island.”