Seaflower (36 page)

Laughton
was a fine host, and at sundown always joined his visitors on the broad veranda
for easy conversation. 'Your visit is most welcome, Nicholas, but I fear not
at the best of times,' he mentioned one evening. 'We've been sadly
inconvenienced in our trade by these devilish predators — you'll find the navy
not popular here.'

Renzi
hastened to change the subject. 'And of your maroons, are they as cantankerous,
unsatisfied as last you spoke?'

'Worse.
They're more or less in open revolt now.' He stared out over the fields. 'They
want more land for 'emselves - which plantation is going to give it to them?
They're rambling about at night, causing general trouble. Had two cows taken
and another with its throat slit. It's unsettling my fieldworkers, who know
they're only over yonder,' he said, gesturing towards the tumble of hills and
mountains to the north-west, just visible in the dusk. "That's what we
call "cockpit country", and there the maroon is untouchable. And it's
only a short ride away.' He took a long pull at his drink. 'Don't forget, we're
only some thousands with an enslaved population of around a quarter-million.
Concentrates the mind, don't ye think?'

Fortified
by his courteous acceptance by Laughton, Kydd was able to face with equanimity
the prospect of a social occasion, an informal dinner of the usual sort. Seated
opposite Renzi, he prepared nervously to do his duty.

'Th'
currant sauce, if y' please,' was Kydd's first daring foray into polite
society. It was passed to him without comment and, reassured, he looked around
furtively at the members of the table. The olive-complexioned lawyer further
down caught his look and nodded pleasantly. Taken aback, Kydd had the presence
of mind to raise his glass in salute. As he placed the glass down again he
became aware of the fierce glint of eyes diagonally opposite. 'Marston,' the
man growled, and lifted his eyebrows in interrogation.

*Er,
Kydd,' he said carefully, not knowing if handshakes were the thing at table,
and deciding that it would be safe to do nothing.

'Got
th' look o' the sea about ye,' said Marston, when it became obvious Kydd was not
going to be more forthcoming.

'Aye,
y'r in the right of it, sir.'

Marston
smiled. 'Can always tell. Which ship?'

Renzi
broke in smoothly, "Thomas is with me, Gilbert, come to see where sugar
comes from.'

'Damn
fine place to see.' He started, then twisted round in his seat to the lady on
his left. 'If you'll pardon th' French, m' dear.' She nodded shyly.

Laughton
was at the head of the table, his wife at the opposite end, near Kydd. 'Er, Mr
Kydd,' she called decorously, 'do y' not feel a trifle anxious out on the sea,
what with all those nasty pirates an' French privateers?' She helped herself to
more of the succulent river shrimps in salt and pepper.

Kydd's
own mouth was full with the spicy jerk, but he replied manfully, 'Not wi' the
navy t' look after—'

'Pah!'
Marston's face lowered and his eyes slitted. 'I've lost three ships 'tween here
'n' San Domingo, an' it's disgraceful the navy still ain't come up on 'em! If I
was their admiral, I tell you—'

At
the other end of the table Laughton frowned. Outside there was some sort of
disturbance. The talking died away. High words sounded and a flustered butler
entered, bowed to Laughton and whispered urgently. Laughton put down his glass
quietly. 'Gentlemen, it seems that the Trelawney maroons are abroad tonight.' His
chair scraped as he got to his feet. 'A mill is afire.'

The
room broke into a rush of talk.

'Stap
me, but they're getting damnation uppity!'

'D'ye
think — God preserve us! - it's a general rising?'

'Where's
the militia, the blaggards?' Laughton took off his jacket and carefully laid it
on the back of his chair. In his evening shirt he accepted
his sword and belt from the butler as calmly as he
had accepted his dinner clothes earlier. 'I won't be long, gentlemen, but in
the meantime pray do not ignore the brandy and cigars.' Kydd sensed the
assembling of men in the rising tension outside.

Marston
stood up. 'Richard, dammit, you can't go on y'r own, dear fellow!'

Laughton
held up his hand firmly. 'No, Gilbert, this is my plantation. I shall deal with
it.' He turned and left.

'Don'
like it - not one bit of it!' Marston rumbled.

'Nor
do I,' said the lawyer. 'You know how they work - set an outbuilding on fire,
then when all attention is on that, they fall upon the Great House!'

The
ladies stayed close together, chattering nervously, the men pacing around the
room puffing cigars. Kydd looked through the open windows into the warm darkness.
He glanced at Renzi, who was talking quietly with the butler. Renzi looked
across at Kydd and beckoned discreetly. 'I do believe we should stand sentry-go
around the house. I have asked for weapons.'

These
turned out to be large, ugly blunderbusses, with their flared muzzles a strong
deterrent to any kind of unrest. 'I will take the north side, if you would be
so good as to patrol the south,' Renzi suggested. The rest of the room watched
respectfully, and as they left there were low calls of encouragement from the
other men.

Outside,
away from the bright glitter of candlelight and silver, it was impenetrably
black. The darkness was the more menacing for its total anonymity and Kydd felt
hairs prickle on the back of his neck. From the windows of the Great House,
houseboys looked out
fearfully.
There was a movement behind him. Kydd wheeled around: it was Marston.

'Come
to keep ye company,' he said, breathing heavily. Kydd muttered thanks, but at
the same time he didn't want to worry about having someone about him on whom he
could not rely. Marston, however, fell into step next to him. 'Get worked up,
they do,' Marston said, his cigar laying a thick fragrance on the night air.
'Have this obeah man - kind o' witchcraft, calls it voodoo. They does what he
says under fear o' death.'

'C'n
they fight?' asked Kydd. 'I mean, in the reg'lar way, against soldiers.' He
continued to pace slowly, looking out into the night.

Marston
nodded vigorously. 'Damn right they can, you can depend upon it. But not as
you'd say — they disguise 'emselves as trees with leaves an' all, jumps into
life in our rear, devil take 'em. Not for nothin' they calls it "Land o'
Look Behind".'

Kydd
thought of Juba, the driver of the King's Negroes on Antigua - if he and his
kind were to set their faces against the forces of the Crown he could not be at
all certain of the outcome. He remembered the opaqueness of character, the
difference in Juba's expression of humanity - was it so hard to understand a
resentment, a striving to be as other men?

From
the darkness a group of figures emerged, Laughton easily recognisable at their
head. He saw Kydd and waved. 'Thank you, Thomas. There was no need, but I
honour you for it. Shall we rejoin the ladies?'

It
seemed the alarm was over. Kydd handed over his blunderbuss and he and Renzi
re-entered the brightness of the big dining room to murmured words of
approbation. Laughton resumed his chair at the head. 'Gentlemen!' He raised a
glass and drank deep. The ladies could now withdraw gracefully, leaving the men
to their blue haze, brandy balloons and conversation.

'Somethin'
has to be done!' Marston said forcefully. 'They've broken their sworn treaty,
the damned rascals. If they take it into their heads to come down from the
hills all together, it's up with us. We'd never control a general mutiny.
Military is here, an' I hear they're even sending us a general.' The
announcement did not seem to mollify; snorts of derision were heard around the
table, despite the presence further down the table of an officer in red
regimentals. He didn't comment, but a confident smile played across his face as
he enjoyed his cigar.

'So
what's goin' on, eh, James?'

The
officer paused for a moment. 'Yes,' he drawled, 'quite true — General Walpole
is expected daily.'

'An'
with how many damn soldiers?'

The
smile widened. 'Not so many, I understand.'

'What's
so funny, damn your whistle?'

'It's
— he'll be bringing much more effective reinforcements than soldiers.'

'Blast
m' eyes, you're speakin' in riddles, man!'

'This
is not for public knowledge, gentlemen, so keep it under your hat. No soldiers.
Instead, Cuban hunting dogs!' A baffled quiet descended. Enjoying the effect,
the officer elegantly lifted his brandy. ‘Half the size of a man, these brutes
are trained up by the Spaniards for man-killing. Can pitilessly run to earth
anything on two legs in the worst country, the hardest climate. A runaway slave
stands no chance at all, and neither will these maroons.'

Kydd
felt for them. All their advantages of knowing the country, blending with the
landscape, melting into the scrub rendered useless at a stroke.

'We
send the dogs in, we can smoke 'em all out from their hidey-holes, finish 'em
for good at last.' The roar of merriment that followed was heartfelt, but Kydd
could not join in.

He
turned to the lawyer. 'Is it so necessary t' take such hard ways with th' poor
beggars?' he asked.

The
man frowned. 'Are you not aware that these sugar islands are the richest lands
in the world? That if we lost their yield for any reason, it would of a
certainty mean the collapse of the City, a run on gold, our ruination as a
nation just when we are locked in battle with the greatest threat to our
civilisation ever?'

There
could be no answer to that, but Kydd felt a stubborn need to have his
misgivings laid to rest. 'But slavery, where is y'r rights there?'

The
lawyer's eyes turned stony. 'If we had no slaves then, may I ask, where do you
think that the free men to take their place — thousands, tens of thousands
-will come from? No white man will come of his free will to labour in the sun.
The black man is eminently suited. They would have no employment, were it not
for this.'

'But—'

'Do
you propose, sir, to abandon the islands? Sail away, leave them to the French,
throw away six generations of development?' The contempt in his voice was
ill-concealed.

Kydd
knew in his heart that Renzi would sadly concur — it was a matter of simple
logic; besides which, he was a guest and would not embarrass his friend with an
argument. 'Of course not, sir, that was never in question,' he said.

All
too rapidly the remaining days of their stay passed, until the time came, on
the last evening, to bring it all to a conclusion. Laughton arrived late for
the sundown glass, flopping wearily into his rattan chair. There was little
talk as the sangaree splashed into the glasses, each man with his own thoughts.
Laughton's wife joined them, but left discreetly at the solemn mood.

Kydd
broke the silence, saying civilly, 'Y'r sunsets are capital in this part o' the
world.'

Laughton
looked up, a tight smile flashing briefly. 'There are many things here which a
distracted mind would find pleasing.' He sat back and looked directly at Kydd.
'It does not take a deal of penetration to see that you are a particular friend
to Nicholas — you have shared too much of life together for it to be otherwise.
Therefore I conclude that he has confided in you. In short, you know of his —
decision, and the noble impulse that generated it.

'I
am his brother, as you are no doubt aware, and tonight I ask you very sincerely
if you will intercede with him. Ask him to accept my offer of an honoured place
here — indeed, to include your own good self — and see out these tumultuous
times here together.'

Kydd
was surprised: he had no idea an offer had been made. He glanced across at Renzi,
whose expression was as usual inscrutable. 'I do thank ye f'r the fine offer
for m'self, but must say no,' Kydd said firmly. 'But as f'r Nicholas . . .'

'No,'
Renzi said quickly, and stared intensely at his glass. Kydd waited, but there
was no further elaboration. Renzi's face was set in stone.

The
chirr
of
a cricket sounded in the dusk, immediately joined in
a chorus by others. A clatter and laughter sounded far-off in the chattel
houses, and the breeze played sofdy about them. Laughton put down his glass.
'Then I think I have my answer, Nicholas,' he said softly. 'But one moment.' He
rose quickly and went inside. A short time later, he emerged with a dusty botde
and crystal glasses, which he placed on the marquetry table, then set to
carefully opening the bottle. ‘Let us make this last night as agreeable as we
may.' He poured the deep gold liquid into crystal. The dark-skinned buder
arrived with a candle, and each man held his glass. 'Armagnac — the elder Pitt
was a boy when this was bottled,' Laughton said lightly. 'I give you Fortune - may
she treat you as a lady.'