When Caleb and the others reached the area beyond the wharf, the graves were neatly dug, with the bodies—wrapped in sheets taken from the mercenaries’ beds and then sewn into hammocks—waiting alongside.
Enough of the men now knew how to work rock; several had toiled since dawn to shape headstones. Others had used the chisels and hammers to carve names and dates on the smoothed faces.
As the senior officer present, Royd led the service, reciting from memory all the usual passages in between the words offered by Dixon, Hillsythe, Fanshawe, Hopkins, and, unexpectedly, Kit, who had witnessed Wattie’s death. No one had seen Si fall. Then the bodies were lowered into the graves. There were many willing hands to man the shovels and many silent farewells said as the pair were laid to rest.
Most lingered to see the graves completed and the headstones raised.
Three of them. Between Si’s and Wattie’s headstones, another stone was set. The words etched on its face read: Daisy. Age 13. 1824. From Freetown. An angel taken before her time.
Caleb bowed his head, as did everyone there. Someone had remembered, and all those there would never forget.
* * *
Royd returned to the compound hand in hand with Isobel.
As they walked through the gates, he saw their prisoners now clustered awkwardly around the porch post to which Caleb had been tied. Those picking over the wreck of the supply hut had unearthed, among other things, seven sets of still-useable shackles. The two blacksmiths among the ex-captives had made short work of affixing the shackles to the prisoners, thus relieving Robert’s men from having to keep a close watch on the miscreants.
Royd halted and, across the compound, studied the group.
Isobel halted beside him. She followed his gaze. As if reading his mind, she murmured, “Leave them there.” She glanced at the fire pit, where everyone else—ex-captive and rescuer—was now gathering. “It’s time for us to eat, they’re not going to be harmed by missing a few meals, and we don’t have that much food that we need to waste any on them...and even more importantly, seeing them there, caught and awaiting justice, is balm to all those who were trapped in this wretched place.”
She was right on all counts. With a tip of his head, he acknowledged that, and they continued to the fire pit.
The sailors who took turns in their ships’ galleys had banded together to prepare a simple meal using some of what had been found in the kitchen and padding it out with ship’s rations brought in from their respective camps.
Royd wouldn’t have said the food provided was excessive, let alone extravagant, but watching how the ex-captives, especially the children, fell on the fare, he realized they’d all been not precisely starved but not adequately fed, either.
Caleb saw him watching and guessed his thoughts. He caught Royd’s eye. “This is roughly double what we would normally get.”
Seated beside Royd, Isobel looked at her plate. “Good Lord.”
Royd agreed, but the ex-captives being able to fill their bellies to an extent they hadn’t in months was another point that helped to establish things had changed.
That they were free.
He’d seen it before, all those years ago and several times since, when he’d rescued those who’d been held for more than a few weeks. It took time to realize that they truly were free again.
Dixon confirmed that when he said, “I keep thinking I should check my watch to see if it’s time to go back into the mine.”
Others nodded or murmured similar sentiments.
Royd finished his meal, laid down his plate, and looked around the circle, ultimately letting his gaze rest on Dixon, Hillsythe, and the other leaders. “We need to discuss your return to Freetown.” Unsurprisingly, everyone paid attention. “I propose we walk directly to the coast along the route my party took to get here.” He described the path, the likely length of the trek, then detailed the ships that would be waiting at the shore—the entire Frobisher fleet in these waters bar Consort, which would still be keeping watch outside the naval blockade, plus Lascelle’s The Raven. “That makes five ships. If we divide the company, we shouldn’t be too crowded, and the sailing time to Freetown isn’t that long.”
Robert added, “Heading to the coast and then sailing to Freetown will take the least toll on the children, the women, and the wounded.”
Agreement was unanimous. Royd let the talk run unrestrained for several minutes. The children were fired with eagerness at the prospect of seeing the ships; the promise of sailing into Freetown on such vessels put stars in countless eyes.
That carrot at the end of the path would help to get them through the long trek.
Finally, he raised his voice. “Time—as in what time we should leave.” He waited until calls of “Now!” and “Can’t we go now?” faded. “Even if we hurry, it’ll take at least until late this afternoon to get packed and ready. There’s no point starting along the track only to have to halt less than an hour along.” He glanced at Dixon. “I suggest we use the rest of the day to make ready, then leave at first light tomorrow—as soon as there’s light enough for us to see our way.”
“Yay!”
“Tomorrow!”
As the children’s cheers echoed from the cliffs, the adults looked around; hearing no argument, everyone smiled.
Thereafter, the talk was of preparations and the delegation of various tasks. Katherine, Edwina, Isobel, and Aileen volunteered to pack the medical supplies. Harriet and the other women arranged to work with the sailor-cooks to gather all they could from the leftover stores—first for a celebratory meal that evening, the last the ex-captives would eat in this place, and subsequently to pack all that would be useful on the trek to the estuary. As a part of that, Diccon was delegated to take all the children who wished to go with him out into the jungle to gather enough fruit, berries, and nuts for the evening’s desserts and to carry with them to the coast.
“We won’t want to be stopping constantly along the way, and that’s something you children can carry,” Harriet said. “And I daresay the sailors wouldn’t mind having some fruit and berries to keep on board, either.”
The mention of fruit and berries brought Duncan forcibly to Isobel’s mind. She’d thought of him often, especially when looking at the captive children. Thought of how privileged his life was compared to theirs, and how much better it yet would be once he was openly acknowledged as Royd’s son and heir.
Which he would be; she accepted that, yet...she couldn’t—didn’t have space in her mind—to deal with the changes that implied, not while there.
Diccon, the tow-headed lad who had acted as courier between Royd and Caleb, puffed out his chest and ordered any children who wanted to come with him to line up by the gates. Virtually all the younger children went; only the three older boys, the girl Tilly, and another bright-eyed, fair-haired girl-child refrained. Diccon dispatched several boys to the kitchen to fetch baskets, then, with three of Royd’s crew ambling behind, Diccon led the procession, two by two, out through the open gates.
Watching the performance, Isobel saw Duncan in her mind’s eye. She glanced at Royd and saw him watching with a similar, somewhat distant, expression.
He felt her gaze and turned his head. He read her eyes. When she whispered, “I can so easily see Duncan taking charge like that,” he laughed. Squeezing her hand, he faced forward.
At breakfast, Hillsythe had quietly informed Royd that Dubois had expired sometime during the night. While the company had been burying their dead, Royd had asked two of his men to fetch Dubois’s body from the mine and add it to the pile outside the gates.
Now Hillsythe and Lascelle came to crouch by Royd. When he turned to them, Hillsythe said, “As per your orders, your men had those three”—with his head, he indicated Satterly, Muldoon, and Winton—“dig a large enough hole off the path to Kale’s camp to bury Dub
ois’s not-so-little band. We were thinking that now, with the children busy elsewhere, would be a good time to take care of that.”
As Royd nodded in agreement, Lascelle grinned coldly. “And now those three have rested, they can help do the carrying.”
“Undoubtedly.” Royd glanced at the three prisoners in question; they were sprawled on the dirt, trying to rest as comfortably as their shackles would allow. “Send as many men as you deem necessary and have them keep a sharp eye on those three—I wouldn’t put it past them to try to escape.”
Hillsythe and Lascelle nodded and rose, and Royd turned back to the discussions.
* * *
Seated several places from Isobel, Kate had yet to leave to pack the medical supplies, allowing Caleb to continue to hold her hand. He sat and observed the subtle changes in those he’d befriended over the past weeks as they started to think about the lives they would resume—the lives many had thought they would never return to.
When Kate leaned closer, studying his face, he met her eyes and murmured, “Second chances are precious and fragile things.”
She searched his eyes, then smiled gloriously. Her hand shifted and gripped his. “I feel as if you’re my second chance—my second chance at starting the next stage of my life. Successfully, this time—I was clearly not meant to be a governess.”
Caleb shook his head. “Uh-uh. I’m your first chance.” A second chance was what was happening between Royd and Isobel. “And look at all the smart ones about us grabbing their chance.” With a tip of his head, he directed her gaze. “Annie and Jeb—and there’s Mary and Babington, and Harriet and Dixon.”
“And Edwina and Declan, and Robert and Aileen.” Kate’s gaze reached Isobel and Royd, and she paused. “But not those two.”
“No.” Caleb squeezed her hand. “That’s a true second chance in the making.”
And it was so intense and evocative in so many ways, it was almost painful to watch.
Shifting his gaze elsewhere, Caleb saw a small golden head bobbing around the circle. “Amy’s still here. I wonder why she didn’t go with the others.”
He was destined to find out, because Amy was on her way to them. She halted near Kate and smiled winningly when Kate turned to her and asked, “Did you want me?”
Amy fixed her big blue eyes on Kate’s face and, her hands clasped before her, said, “Can I please come and help you with the ointments and things? I saw you and the other ladies helping all the hurt people. I’d like to be able to help people, too, and I wondered if you might show me things.”
Kate smiled. “Of course.” She glanced across the circle. “We’re not quite ready to go back to the medical hut yet.” She patted the space on the log beside her. “Why don’t you sit beside me until it’s time?”
Amy beamed, stepped over the log, and sat.
Caleb returned his attention to the ongoing discussions. A moment later, Hillsythe and Phillipe, both of whom had just sent a party of men out of the gates—Caleb assumed to remove the pile of dead bodies beyond—rejoined the circle, taking places vacated by children between Royd and Caleb. When Caleb quietly inquired, Phillipe confirmed that the mercenaries’ bodies were being disposed of.
At a break in the conversation, Hillsythe turned to Royd. “Lascelle and I have a suggestion to make. Our prisoners have elected not to reveal anything to you. Lascelle and I wondered if they might, perhaps, be prevailed on to share more details were he and I to ask. In our own, rather different ways.”
Caleb saw the calculation in Royd’s face as he looked from Hillsythe to Lascelle. Then Royd arched a black brow. “Why not?”
“Indeed,” Lascelle said, “and we have the next two days, both here and while we’re tramping through the jungle to the coast. Being held at the rear of the column, surrounded by my men—French, not English, and therefore with no reason to treat the gentlemen well or be cowed by their standing—might assist in loosening their tongues.”
“Well, Satterly’s, Muldoon’s, and Winton’s tongues, at least.” Hillsythe grimaced. “I don’t hold much hope of getting anything out of the other two, but the younger three should be amenable to our brand of persuasion.”
Royd considered for a second more, then nodded. He looked around at all the others. “Any objections?”
There were none.
“Now we’ve decided that, I have a suggestion to make, too.” Dixon looked at his fellow ex-captives, then turned his gaze to Royd. “There are some diamonds left in the second pipe. If all the men who know how to tease those diamonds out were to work for an hour, two at the most, we’d have every diamond out—and they wouldn’t really need much cleaning. On top of that, we have stockpiles hidden in the mine, at the ore piles, outside the cleaning shed, and inside it. Some would still need cleaning, but if we divided up the load, we could easily carry the whole lot out as is.” Dixon paused to glance around the circle; it was to the others he spoke when he continued, “I believe that after all we’ve been through, restitution is in order. The authorities in the settlement might have something to say about that, but—”
“Not if the authorities behind the rescue mission have their way.” Royd caught Dixon’s eye. “And trust me, they will. I, too, believe a restitution scheme, funded by the diamonds you’ve all slaved to extract, is an excellent idea.”
The notion was discussed further. Royd, backed by Robert and Declan, swore to do his best to confiscate any funds from the mine held by Ross-Courtney or realized from the sale of any stones still with the diamond merchant. When Royd called for a vote by all the ex-captives over who should be in charge of the scheme, once Caleb declined, pointing out he would be returning to England, Dixon, Hillsythe, and Babington—who had in short order earned the ex-captives’ trust—were elected as executors of the fund.
Royd was pleased with that result. Hillsythe had already indicated that he would be returning to London with the Frobishers, but only to report, after which he expected to return to the settlement to oversee the governor’s office for some months. He agreed to take charge of the diamonds and ensure a good price was obtained, and once back in the settlement, he would be perfectly placed to ensure the scheme achieved the desired result. With Babington’s contacts to exploit, there was no reason to believe the fund wouldn’t be a success and bring succor to those who had toiled in the compound for so many months, largely without hope.
Fanshawe and Hopkins suggested they would take a team of men into the mine to pull out the last of the diamonds, while others gathered up the stockpiles and brought the stones and rocks to Dixon for cataloging. Lascelle and Caleb, both of whom waived any return for them or their men on the grounds they’d not truly been captives in the same sense, offered to take the names of all those who should get a portion of the fund.
At that point, the gathering about the fire pit broke up, with virtually everyone heading off on some task or another, all intent on being ready by the time night fell so they could celebrate—and then quit the compound and not look back.
Somewhat to his surprise, Royd found himself with little to do. His men had brought his seabag and Isobel’s satchel from their camp; he and she would be ready to depart without having to pack or make ready.
Declan and Robert were also at loose ends. Declan waved at the mine. “Why don’t we take a look at what all the fuss has been about?”
They ambled into the mine. Lanternlight guided them to the tunnel where the men were working to remove the last of the diamonds. The three brothers got a lesson in what it took to mine diamonds from Fanshawe and Hopkins. In response to a little encouragement from Royd, the lieutenants, aided by the other men, regaled the brothers with the tale of how the captives had plotted and schemed to stretch out the mining until the rescue force reached them. It was impossible not to be impressed by how cohesive the group had grown and how inventive and dogged they’d been, how desperate
and determined to survive. Equally impossible to miss was the fact that Caleb—with his indefatigable will and his uncanny knack for inspiring confidence—had played a crucial, indeed pivotal, role. With simple sincerity, Hopkins put it into words. “Without him and his leadership, we wouldn’t have made it.”
Royd hid a wry but self-satisfied smile. Action under pressure was what defined a man—the situations he faced, the decisions he made. Royd appreciated that better than most. Challenge cut to a man’s bedrock and shaped him.
He’d been waiting for some such challenge to come along and shape Caleb. To cut away the lingering superficialities of youth, the hedonism and irresponsibility, and reveal the true core beneath.
Propping a shoulder against the rock wall, in the play of light from the lanterns, he looked at Robert and Declan, talking with Fanshawe a few yards farther down the tunnel. Each of his brothers had their special strengths, but there was no denying Caleb was the most like him. There were six years between them, and as the eldest, he’d stepped into the prime leadership role more or less from birth, so consequently, the difference in experience had been profound.
Only now, Royd judged, had Caleb finally made the transition and taken the last step, and become the leader he’d always had the potential to be. He had more to learn, of course, yet... If Royd were to put into place the plan forming in his head—that, truth be told, had been in his mind for some time, but that had gained more urgency now Isobel had come back into his life—and stepped down from his position as senior captain of Frobisher Shipping, then it was Caleb who would need to step into the role.
Royd didn’t think Robert and Declan would disagree. Even more so now that they had other distractions—reasons to spend less time at sea. Like him, they would want to adjust their sailing schedules the better to accommodate their ladies—their wives. And while, if Royd correctly understood the connection between Caleb and Katherine Fortescue, Caleb would soon have a wife, too, Royd could see Katherine—Kate—maturing into a woman like their mother, Elaine, and sailing with Caleb wherever business took him.
Lord of the Privateers Page 30
