Mistress of Darkness (12 page)

A rhetorical question, for of course he would have ascertained their position from the captain.

'No, sir,' Matt said. 'Antigua lies some distance to the south of our route. That large island we left astern yesterday was Hispaniola, the original Spanish settlement in these parts.'

'And now divided between the French and the Spanish powers, I am informed,' Coke said. 'Have you no knowledge of it?'

'None, sir, save that it is one of the largest and most prosperous of European settlements in these waters.' But he could not resist a sally. 'My family also played its part there, however. My great-grandfather, Captain Christopher Hilton, was a buccaneer, as you may recall, and he lived on Hispaniola with his fellow Brethren of the Coast for some time, slaying cattle, and murdering Spaniards whenever the opportunity presented itself.'

'Grim times they must have been,' Coke remarked. 'But this island of Jamaica does not look so very small itself.'

'Nor is it, sir. And of course it also was once the home of the buccaneers. In fact, Dr. Coke ...' he pointed at the long low sandbank curving from the mainland in a semi-circle to enclose the waters of Port Royal bay, and lined throughout its length by stick-like coconut trees, bent this way and that by the wind, 'at the end of that spit, called Los Palisadoes, used to be the town of Port Royal, which was swallowed up by the earthquake of 1692. You will yet see some of the houses on the beach, while should the sea remain calm, and you look over the side as we enter the harbour you may see the remains of the city only a few feet below the surface.'

'The City of Sin they called it,' Coke said reverently. 'Suitably destroyed in a few seconds of heavenly vengeance. But fortunately, no doubt, your great-grandfather was absent at the time.'

'He had already adopted the life of a planter, in Antigua,' Matt said. 'Although he had certainly sailed with Morgan. He was at Panama.'

Coke smiled. 'I detect a certain sadness in your tones, Mr. Hilton, that there are no more piratical expeditions to be joined, no more Panamas to be sacked, that men have become altogether more sober, perhaps. More aware of their responsibilities as men. Some of them, at any rate. I wonder, sir, if you would be good enough to introduce me to your famous cousin, once we are ashore? He will be meeting the ship?'

‘I doubt that, Dr. Coke, as he has no idea that I am arriving today, or indeed at all. But if you would care to accompany me to Hilltop, it will be my pleasure to introduce you to Robert. Although I must warn you, he will listen to no claptrap about abolition or amelioration, and I would strongly suggest that you avoid the subject yourself, if you wish to be welcomed.'

Coke bowed his head. 'Be sure, Mr. Hilton, that I shall in no way abuse your hospitality.' He pointed. 'And see, sir, I am willing to admit that before us is living proof of the strength of your argument, that even in time of war Jamaica's prosperity can be equalled by no other country in the world.'

The vast harbour in front of them was filled with ships riding to their anchors, varying from the cluster of enormous three deckers belonging to the West Indian command of Sir Samuel Hood, down to the small schooners which plied for trade between the various islands. It occurred to Matt that the reason they were all accumulated here in safety was probably the very presence of the French fleet and the Yankee privateers, but he saw no reason to point this out to Coke, while certainly the harbour was busy enough, the bumboats plying for hire and victualling, rowing boats coursing to and fro, and the distant wooden piers of the town thronged with people.

But now the
Sweet Adelaide
herself was letting her anchor go to rush down into the still, green waters of the bay, and the longshoremen, having discovered a new arrival, were hastily approaching. The cabin passengers debouched on to the deck, looking sadly the worse for wear after their long confinement, while Captain Holman paraded the poop, thumbs tucked into the pockets of his vest, smoking a cigar, plainly at once relieved and self-flattered at having come safely to port in these tumultuous times.

Matt and Coke secured places in the first boat, and sat in the bows, their clothes bags tucked under their arms, as the brawny Negroes who manned the oars pulled for the shore.

'My word, but the heat of it,' Coke complained, tugging at his soiled cravat, and fanning himself with his tricorne, for in the shelter of the mountains which loomed above the town even the tradewind was reduced to occasional puffs. 'I wonder these fellows stand up to it.'

Matt laughed. 'Sir, I perceive that it will require but a week in Jamaica to convert you to the most rabid planter alive. These fellows stand up to it because they were born and bred in a climate even hotter than this, and so find this a positive relief.'

'And are they slaves?' Coke demanded, seeming for the first time to discover that he was in the presence of the reason for his journey.

'Indeed they are,' Matt said. 'And far less fortunate than those who work on the sugar plantations, for these fellows are the belongings of one of their own kind, that chap on the tiller.'

'My word,' Coke said again, casting an anxious glance at the hard-visaged Negro in the stern, dressed for all the world like a European, and even wearing a tricorne hat, but armed with a powerful short whip, at which, he now realized, every one of the oarsmen stared throughout their journey. 'And he is also a slave?'

Matt shook his head. 'He is a free Negro, either manumitted by his white master for some service, or enabled to purchase his own freedom by thrift and perseverance.'

Coke frowned at him. 'But how might a slave obtain the wherewithal to purchase his freedom?'

'They are allowed funds of their own, sir,' Matt said. 'They receive a day a week free, to tend their gardens, and they are allowed to grow vegetables to their heart's content, and to sell them in the market. Granted most of them squander whatever they receive on trinkets or strong drink, where it can be obtained. Those who are determined to be free have but to work for it'

'I see I have a great deal to learn,' Coke muttered. 'And this free day is of course the Sabbath?'

Matt shrugged. 'It depends upon the planter. The Sabbath means naught to these people, Dr. Coke. They are all totally heathen, and indulge in various West African superstitions to do with the worship of some mammoth snake, as I understand it.'

'My word,' Coke repeated. 'But is not that a dreadful state of affairs, which should be remedied as quickly as possible?'

'On the contrary, sir,' Matt said. 'It is a state of affairs which satisfies everyone, including the Negroes, and should be left untroubled, in all West Indian opinion. Shall we go ashore?'

For the boat had come into the side of the dock, where interested spectators, black and white, were gathered to oversee the arrivals, to tout for boarding houses and hotels, for horses and carriages, for laundry and for eating places, and even for employment. Coke stared at them in amazement; in contrast to his own broadcloth coat and warm vest, his soiled but none the less neat linen and cravat, and his cane, the white men who shouted their offers at him wore open-necked cotton shirts, in a variety of colours, tucked into breeches and boots, and were mostly unarmed, save that in many cases a short whip, much as that carried by the boat's owner, hung from their thick leather belts. For hats they wore wide-brimmed straws, and it was easy to see that in most cases their heads were shaved. Which did not equally apply to their faces, although the stubbles which shrouded their cheeks were clearly the result of carelessness rather than design.

'Gad, sir,' he whispered to Matt. 'What a piratical looking lot.' And he hastily searched his pocket for his handkerchief, for the mob sweated, and had clearly been sweating for days, without the relief of a bath or a change of clothing. The dock carried an aroma like that of an uncleansed stable, hanging on the still air.

'You'll become used to it.' But Matt was already releasing his own cravat, and shouldering men aside. Memory of his youth, of the manners practised by Papa, and indeed by Robert himself, were flooding back to him. 'Stand back there,' he shouted, flicking his cane. 'Stand back.'

'And who might you be?' demanded one large, sallow-skinned fellow with a scar on his chin.

'My name is Matthew Hilton, sir,' Matt declared. 'And I am of Plantation Hilltop. Will you question me further?'

'God bless you, Mr. Hilton,' the man said. 'I did not recognize you, sir. You'll be for Hilltop, Mr. Hilton? I have horses...'

'Ah, begone with you,' shouted another man. 'His are broken nags. Now mine, Mr. Hilton ...'

'But you'll not be needing horses, Mr. Hilton,' protested a third. 'As the carriage will no doubt be coming into town to meet you. Until then, why I suggest my establishment, sir, the best in town, clean linen, sir, good food, all the wine you can drink, mulatto girls, sir, no filthy niggers ...'

'My word,' Coke said. 'I really did not appreciate what the concept of plantocracy meant. I apologize, Mr. Hilton, really I do.'

Matt merely smiled. 'Horses,' he shouted. 'I will need horses. Yours, sir, and should they fail me you need expect no payment.'

'Mine, sir?' cried the delighted fellow. 'You'll discover no better mounts in all Jamaica. Clear the way, there. Mr. Hilton would ride to Hilltop.'

Matt and Coke followed him along the suddenly broad street, unpaved and with dust scattering in the gentle breeze which had returned to suggest it might be quite fresh at sea, skimming down from the blue-green haze of the mountains behind the town. On either side were a variety of houses, built of brick or stone in apparently formless variety, but all characterized by wide porticoes and deep verandahs, to admit as much air as possible, while in place of glass in the windows there were jalousied shutters, to perform the same duty of circulating air while rejecting as much of the eye scorching brilliance of the sunlight as could be achieved. Paint was apparently scarce, but whatever damage had been caused by the hurricane of a few months previously had either been repaired or disguised.

And here too were a multitude of hurrying, bustling people; white men in the loose and comfortable garments Coke had noted on the dock; their women in muslins, tantalizingly sheer to European eyes, topped by similar broad-brimmed hats and the whole protected by enormous multi-coloured umbrellas carried by attentive Negro slaves; the slaves themselves, mostly wearing white, long gowns for the women, who concealed their heads in massive turbans, and shirts and pants for the men, who, in imitation of their white betters, sported ragged straw hats. There was a hum of conversation and a cackle of laughter in the air, even amongst the blacks. Certainly the fact that the mother country was waging a losing war, that just beyond the horizon a French fleet might be lurking, that not one of the blacks could be sure where his next meal might be discovered, seemed to have very little effect upon their good humour. But perhaps, Coke reflected, they were all inebriated by the unending, all-pervading, ever-penetrating sun, which made it almost obscene to indulge in anything approaching gloom or pessimism.

And soon enough they were mounted and leaving the city behind, climbing steeply into the hills which surrounded the bay, following another of the white dust roads, built up between steep ditches to carry off the excessive water of the rainy season, now exposed to the heat, now shaded by the enormous spreading trees, cedar and cypress, tamarind and banyan, which loomed at the roadside, watched speculatively by hideous bald-headed crows perched on the lower branches even as they inhaled the endlessly sweet smell of the wild flowers, the orchids and the honeysuckle, which carpeted the ground between the stalwart trunks.

It was a country which, Coke realized, in one brief morning could catch a hold of the imagination and turn dull care and the apprehension of approaching winter into a meaningless memory. It was a country in which a man would easily learn to live to the utmost, and laugh at his loudest, and perhaps love beyond his capacity. He glanced at his companion, not for the first time, with true curiosity. Matthew Hilton possessed this country, to all intents and purposes. Given the slightest ambition he could bestride it even more than did his cousin, than had his illustrious ancestors dominated Antigua. But the young man rode in a silent, self-possessed anger, a man on a mission, Coke realized, and one which had nothing to do with the fellowship of mankind.

But now Matt reined, and pointed. 'Hilltop.'

The road had traversed the side of a steep hill, which rose on their right to shut out the further ranges beyond, and which on their left dropped into a deep valley, mostly wooded, through which there raced a hurrying stream, no doubt seeking the sea, which could occasionally, through the gaps in the trees and the mountains, be discerned away to their left. But on coming round the hill it was discovered that the entire land dipped down to join the canyon, and spread out into a huge bowl of relatively flat country. Coke estimated that it could not be less than ten miles across to the next range. The floor of this valley had been cleared of natural vegetation, and replanted; from a height it suggested an enormous garden, and this, the Methodist missionary realized, was in fact a perfectly accurate description. In the main it was under cane, for the crop was nearly ripe, and it was simple to identify the tall, waving, slender green stalks which provided the wealth of an entire nation. But farther off, and towards the centre of the valley, clustering around the town which lay there, the canefields ended, and there was a large area under corn, and an enormous orchard of fruit trees, while beyond them there was an even larger cleared area, dotted with grazing horses, with a perimeter of deep green grass surrounded by a white railing, and beyond, a tiered stand.

'My family is fond of racing their horses,' Matt said, and urged his mount forward.

'And so have created their own race-course?' Coke asked in wonder, and speaking half to himself. 'But where is the hilltop which gives the place its name?'

For they were descending the side of the hill now; the road led through the centre of the canefields themselves.