Seaflower (9 page)

'C'n
you hold 'em if they attack?'

'Yeah,
don't worry.'

'An'
don't ye worry y'rself,' Kydd said stoudy. 'Navy'll be sendin' their fleet
soon, an' that'll settle their account.'
Trajan
and the others would make short work of whatever
ships the French had — if they were alerted and could make it back in time.

The
new day developed into its usual tropical grandeur. The royalist force marched
out with English soldiers to meet the revolutionaries, and that night the
Vernou family sat up late, debating events. Kydd lay awake for a long time,
haunted by an image of Louise strapped to a guillotine, looking up at the
blade.

He
was awoken in the dark early hours by sounds from below. There was a scuffle
outside followed by a furious hammering on the door. He leaped from bed and
hurried below, aware that he and Renzi were the only men in the house.
Cautiously he unbarred the door.

'Que
Dieu nous aide, nous sommes condamnes;
a
middle-aged lady in mob cap cried as she pushed inside. Renzi, close behind
Kydd, tried to pacify her. She thrust a paper at him.

Renzi
took a candle from Louise, who had just appeared, and read. The flickering
light lit up his face from below. 'The worst!' he said, his expression as grave
as Kydd had seen. 'The political leader of these revolutionaries, whose name is
Victor Hugues, has made a proclamation, which he has secretly posted throughout
the town under cover of night' Kydd felt his bowels tighten.

'He
has stated, in effect, that the glorious revolution promised liberty, equality
and fraternity, which applies to the slaves of this island. All slaves are now
free and owe no obedience to any béké from this moment on.'

'C'est
la fin de noire societe telle que nous la connaissons?
the woman moaned. Louise stood stock still, pale and
staring.

'What
does it mean?' Kydd said, but he knew the answer already. He had no specific
feelings about slavery - he hadn't any experience of it — but the effect of
uncontrolled freedom on those who had been enslaved would have the situation
spinning out of control.

Renzi
spoke quietly. 'It means that with a single move of diabolical genius, this
Victor Hugues has turned the tables on us. A large slave population now loose
and in disorder is something no military commander can have in his rear. We are
finished.'

There
was a horrified silence.

'As
far as we know—'

From
the shop came the sudden sound of splintering glass and low animal growls. Kydd
pushed open the door, and in the breaking dawn saw figures clambering through
the wreckage of the front window.

'Get
back! It's not safe!' Kydd called, slammed the door and shot the bolt. The
terrified ladies hurried up the stairs while Renzi searched for arms.

There
were more sounds of breaking glass, then quiet.

Kydd
eased open the door and saw that the shopfront was in ruins. He crossed to the
door and looked out into the street. It was deserted — but a plume of smoke
billowed skyward a street away. Irregular, sinister sounds broke the peace.

'We'd
better stay with the ladies, Nicholas,' Kydd called.

Renzi
joined him. 'Hark!' he said sharply, holding up his hand.

Kydd
couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard a sharp squeal against the silence. It
chilled his blood. 'I thought—'

'Shut
up!'

Then,
from the top of the street, came a boatswain's call.

'Hands
to muster!' exclaimed Kydd. He ran into the middle of the street and waved his
arms.

The
boatswain's mate looked him over with a lopsided smile. 'You, Kydd, get yer men
'n' their gear over to th' town square. We needs ev'ry man c'n carry a musket.'

At
Kydd's reluctance, he snapped, 'Sharpish like! Lootenant ain't waitin' fer any
wants ter dally.' He glared at Kydd and left.

Kydd
looked back at the old shop, the front sad and threatening. How could he
abandon the women at this time? He stole a glance at Renzi. His friend was
looking steadily at him, his arms folded. He looked away. Perhaps there was
time to get Louise and Madame Vernou away - but the schooner was still unfit
for sea and
..
. What was he
thinking? Who was there to man any craft he could find? And how would it be
seen by others? That he was running away from a hopeless situation to save
himself? There was no alternative: he had his duty. He stiffened. 'What are ye
waitin* for, Nicholas? Let's get our dunnage.'

Their
room seemed a fragile relic of gentler times, Louise's fragrance soothing and
poignant. Their sea-bags were stuffed in a trice, but the two women were at the
door, the maid nowhere to be seen. At the sight of their set faces, Madame
Vernou broke into weeping and Louise simply stared — neither accusing nor
forgiving.

'We
- that's t' say - we have t' go,' Kydd said awkwardly. To his consternation
Madame Vernou fell to her knees and clutched at him, sobbing. Her words had no
need of translation. Gently he disengaged her. Louise stood like a statue and,
on an impulse, he tore off a button from his short blue seaman's jacket and
pressed it into her hand. She took it, raised it to her lips and kissed it.
Kydd saw her eyes glisten. 'We go now, Nicholas,' he said.

'Good.
Just in time — you go with Mr Jowett.' The lieutenant was harassed and fretful,
but his brow cleared at the sight of Kydd and Renzi. The square was crowded
with men, milling about in anxious groups.

Jowett
turned out to be a master's mate of uncertain temper. His men, including Kydd
and Renzi, were formed up and the little band moved out They marched swiftly,
Jowett eyeing the streets warily for trouble. Only the four marines had
muskets.

'Where
're we headed?' Kydd asked the tattooed sailor next to him.

The
man shifted the tobacco quid in his mouth and said, with satisfaction, 'Ter th'
wharf, ter get the brig t' sea.'

Kydd
hefted his sea-bag, a dawning thought lifting his hopes. Yes, they were turning
into the last street — and would pass the Vernou shop!

'Mr
Jowett!' called Kydd. 'C'n I check on m' billet, as was, when we pass?'

Reluctantly,
Jowett halted the band. Kydd knew he would be inclined to trust that a petty officer
had good reason to delay the party. Now Jowett would find he had two women
passengers on the brig. Kydd called out to the family, but no one emerged.
Jowett hailed him peremptorily.

Kydd
went in hastily. When his eyes became accustomed to the dark interior he
noticed the charring on the steps to his room, tiny wisps of blue smoke still
spiralling — then the blood, trickling over the edge of the floor above. The
door darkened and Jowett's angry face swam into his vision. 'Well, spread some
canvas an' let's be goin'!'

Kydd
stumbled out and, seeing his appalled expression, Renzi grabbed his arm. 'Too
late!' Kydd muttered. He was too shaken to look Renzi in the eye. They trudged
on, Kydd in a haze of grief.

The
brig had been warped a hundred yards offshore and the wharf was filling
rapidly with crowds of frantic humanity, beseeching, imploring and fighting to
get passage on the vessel. Jowett established a secure position at the water's
edge, the marines making free with their bayonet points. A boat was signalled
ashore from the three men aboard. When it arrived it became clear that the brig
was in no fit state to sail. Under refit, it had no need for sails: they had
all been sent down and kept somewhere ashore.

The
strain was beginning to tell: seamen snarled at each other and snapped at the
weeping, frenzied mob. Kydd found himself crudely brushing aside an old woman,
feeling her withered skin and frail bones, her ancient face distorted with
terror.

The
sail-loft was found, and sails quickly stowed in the boat. A flat thud sounded
above the chaos, then another. Gunsmoke wreathed a ridge above the capital.
"They're bombarding the town,' yelled Renzi.

Blood
appeared in the mass of hysterical bodies as the marines wielded their bayonets
more brutally. The guns on the ridge spoke in chorus, but where the shot went
was not obvious.

The
sailors boarded the boat in a rush, making it pitch alarmingly. The sails were
taken out to the brig, some seamen swarming into the tops, others locating the
halliards and lifts.

'We
go out under staysails an' mizzen,' ordered Jowett. There was a ragged hiss and
a thump: a plume of water rose in the sea, the cannon ball going on to smash a
beachside hut to splinters. 'They's shyin' at us!' growled Jowett. 'Time we
wasn't here.'

Kydd
felt an overwhelming urge to be back at sea where it would be calm and sane.
From the shore came distant screams and cursing - the marines were having
difficulty defending themselves. Jowett seized Kydd's arm. 'Get ashore, send
twenty of 'em out ter me. Twenty is all!' A ball slapped through the fore
topmast staysail as it rose up on the stay. 'Now!'

Kydd
threw a glance at Renzi, who was just descending from the main-shrouds, and
boarded the boat. He took the tiller and headed for the chaos ashore, swelled
now by royalist deserters who had broken into grog-shops.

The
marines had fear in their eyes - the mob was near uncontrollable. The boat
bumped up against the stone wharf and Kydd fought his way up to the marines. 'Watch
m' back, you lobsterbacks,' he yelled, and took an oar into the crowd, rotating
it wildly to clear a space. It gained a minute or two: then what? To whom
should he award life, to whom deny it?

One
of the men on the oars came up courageously to help him. Together they held the
oar as a barrier. There, around two rows back, a mother and daughter, they
should go. He pointed them out and beckoned. Under screams of rage from the
others, they forced their way under the oar and to safety. Kydd's eyes darted
around. The grey-haired man with the proud but fearful expression, a royalist
officer, doomed if he remained. As the man came forward, Kydd noticed he was
trembling so much he could hardly steady himself. Others - the boat was filling
fast. A sharp crack and rending of timber — some spar in the brig taking a
ball; there was no time to lose. He made sure the oarsmen were clear — the
gunwales were only six inches above the water; he would wedge himself into the
stern. Kydd looked around at the crowd for the last time — and, with a shock,
saw Louise on the fringes.

Without
stopping to consider the consequences, he pointed and beckoned. The mob howled
and tore at her, and she fell — but rose and fought her way through. Kydd tried
to think what her presence must imply - whose blood had he seen at the house?
Louise paused in front of him, and he pushed her to the boat. She clambered
aboard over the transom into the place Kydd had intended for himself. The boat
swayed, nearly dipping the gunwales under. Its passengers screamed in fright.
There was no chance for him on this trip.

He
watched the boat reach the brig as a cannon shot brought up a vicious plume of
spray not five yards from it. The people scrambled for their lives up the side,
and Kydd noticed the line of the morning sun lengthening down the brig's hull.
Her cables had been cut. The fore and aft sails were shaken out and, with the
empty boat drifting free astern, the brig caught the wind and put to sea.

Lieutenant
Calley did not look up from his writing. The faint tap of muskets sounded - the
French must be close. His shirt stuck to him in the close heat of the small
room, and he muttered as he wrote.

Kydd
waited patiently. They had made it back to the square and found it empty of
friendly soldiery - in fact, empty of most inhabitants. They had only found
their way to this 'headquarters' after a chance encounter with a hurrying party
of infantrymen.

Calley
looked up. Kydd was shocked by the dark rings around his eyes and the evidence
in his posture of extreme tiredness. 'The town is in total disorder; the French
are approaching from the east. There is no help for it - we must yield the
capital.' He spoke generally, not at Kydd but into his immediate front.

'Aye,
sir,' he said. So much had happened since that pre-dawn awakening. The noon
heat was dire in this room and he longed to be out in the steady sea breeze.

'You,
er, Kydd.' Calley seemed to have difficulty with his words. 'We — we must hold
until
Trajan
returns,
with, er, reinforcements.'