Mistress of Darkness

by Christopher Nicole

  Coke regained the bottle and drank himself. 'Aha. You are a West Indian yourself. Then, sir, I am doubly happy that we have at last become acquainted. You can advise me as to conditions in the islands.'

  ' 'Tis six years since I have lived in Antigua, and no doubt circumstances have changed. There was no war when I left.'

  'Of course. Your people are in business over there? Antigua, you say?'

  'My people are planters, sir,' Matt said.

  Coke had been about to offer the bottle again. Now he hesitated, then indeed did offer it. 'The wind remains cold, would you not agree? Planters, you say. My goodness, what a fool I am. Matthew Hilton. I have been told that a family of that name ranks itself the very head of the... what is the term they use in the Indies?'

  Matt smiled, and drank. Suddenly he felt wanner, and even a little less anxious. 'The plantocracy. Dr. Coke.'

  'A word I have not heard before,' Coke observed.

  'Nor should you, sir, as it is very West Indian. It arises, you see, because very few of the great planting families were any better than country gentlemen in their origins, and most of them were a good deal less. My own family, is descended on one side from the Warners of Framlingham, of whom you surely have heard, good farming and soldiering stock, on the other side were nothing better than buccaneers. Yet are we now an aristocracy of wealth, and, we like to think, talent, welcome in the best homes in England, powerful in Parliament, and even on occasion invited to Court. Hence plantocracy.'

  Coke retrieved his bottle, drank in turn. 'A brilliant exposition, if I may say so, Mr. Hilton. And one not lacking in candour and even humour. Yet I have heard that you gentlemen take a very serious view of life.'

  'Do you not, Dr. Coke?'

  Coke considered the remains of his brandy, and then offered it once again. ‘I am but dissembling, sir. You will have heard that I am no longer accepted into the Anglican communion?'

  'It means little to me, sir. If you visit the West Indies in order not to conform, then you have chosen wisely.'

  'Such is not my prime intention,' Coke pointed out. 'I am a follower of John Wesley. Have you heard him preach?'

  Matt shook his head.

  'There's a pity. You look an entirely friendly and personable young man.'

  'And Mr. Wesley's words of wisdom would change that?'

  'On the contrary. Mr. Wesley's teaching might make you even more aware of yourself as a man, as the greatest of God's creations, sir, with only one prime duty, that of recognizing all human creatures are made in His image, and should be so regarded.'

  'Ah,' Matt said. *You are addressing me not as a man, or even as a planter, but as a slave owner.'

  'Why, sir, I had heard that the last two mean the same thing.' Coke turned the bottle upside down, and threw it over the side. 'I will be frank with you, Mr. Hilton. Mr. Wesley's concern is not merely that we of Christendom are overburdened with form and sophistry rather than with the true observance of Christ's writ; he-understands it is no more than an extension of that writ, that we should learn to respect and honour all of our fellow creatures, no matter how great or how small. You may not know that he began his teachings amidst the convicts of Georgia, his mind being deeply disturbed by the miserable conditions under which those poor brethren were, and no doubt still are, forced to exist. Now, sir, he devotes the most of his time to improving the lot of the multitudinous poor of Great Britain, to be sure, yet does his brain wander far afield over a variety of other subjects which cause him, and many others, to distress. And of all these, the greatest is surely the terrible situation whereby a handful of Englishmen hold as their personal possessions a perfect nation of unfortunate creatures, subject to their whims and their idiosyncracies, and even where the planter may be a paragon of goodness and virtue, none the less condemned to an endless lifetime of servitude, with no hope of succour at the end of it.'

  Matt sighed. 'Your Mr. Wesley has been conversing with Granville Sharpe, I'd wager.'

  'Indeed he has. Mr. Sharpe is well to the fore of the Abolitionist movement. But we also number some members of Parliament. William Wilberforce, for one.'

  'Who I have heard described, sir, as an idealist in search of the necessary ideal. It would follow that he would subscribe to your view.'

  'None the less, Mr. Hilton, Mr. Fox himself is sympathetic to our cause, and there is no light weight. But I would not quarrel. I approached you in search of information, sir, not as a proselytizer.'

  'And I, Dr. Coke, have little information to give. As I said, I know nothing of the West Indian scene at the moment.'

  'But you are returning there now. Let me see, your family owns two plantations, does it not, one in Jamaica and one in Antigua? No doubt you will be taking up residence at one or other of these?'

  'No, Dr. Coke. I am returning to Jamaica with a definite object in mind. I have no intention of remaining a moment longer in the Caribbean than I have to.'

  Coke frowned at him. 'But ... are you not heir to the Hilton fortune?'

  'That is my misfortune, sir. As to whether I shall remain heir after my visit, that I doubt. Now, sir...'

  'Can it be that you are yourself appreciative of the vast crime we commit in the name of Mammon, by ill-using these unfortunate creatures?'

  Matt stared at him, his brows drawing together in a frown. How you would like to hear my story, to enlist yourself upon my side, with the intention of using my anger and my position as a weapon in your ridiculous, and entirely political, campaign, he thought. But Gislane is not a Negress. She is as much a Negress as I am a Frenchman, because perhaps several hundred years ago one of my ancestors was taken to bed by a Norman knight.

  'I have never thought about the matter, sir,'he said with absolute truth. 'The purpose of my voyage is entirely personal.'

  'Then think about it now, Mr. Hilton, I beg of you. May I say, sir, that there is no more important question facing mankind at this moment.'

  'And may I say, sir, that you are talking balderdash,' Matt said. 'The blacks may be victims of an economic necessity, but the necessity is there, and were they not employed to fill it, someone else would have to be. They have proved the most hardy, the most vigorous, in the climate which exists in the West Indies. The business has been tested by over a hundred years of application, and I doubt even your friend Sharpe would deny that the West Indies are the most prosperous portion of the British Empire. Your abolitionist endeavours are flying in the face of common reason.'

  'And you, sir, have clearly never read Mr. Smith,' Coke declared.

  'No, sir, I have not. I do not even know which Mr. Smith you mean.'

  'Adam Smith,' Coke insisted. 'Who has proved that slave labour produces far inferior results to those achieved by free men working with a sense of purpose.'

  'Dr. Coke,' Matt said, 'if there were room in our cabin for me to spread a sheet of paper, I have no doubt I could produce a logical argument to prove there is no reason at all why this vessel should not sail faster backwards than forwards. The fact is, sir, nature has ordained that some men shall rule and others shall serve. I will not enter into a discussion of how she arrives at her choice, lest it seem flattery to myself and my family, but the fact is undeniable. And those who serve, be they tenants of your duke in England or your boyar in Russia, private soldiers of your general in America, or common seamen on board this vessel on which we sail, invariably regard themselves as insufficiently rewarded for their efforts, inhumanly punished for their misdemeanours, and generally as the most unfortunate of the human race. In the West Indies we have merely reduced these arguments and these resentments to their logical level. And now, sir, while thanking you for your most generous hospitality in offering to share your bottle with me, I would be sincerely obliged if you would leave me to my contemplations, if your company is going to consist of an unending lecture.'

  A speech, he reflected more than once, which was as untruthful as it was rude. Or was it untruthful? He had never considered the matter in that light, as in
deed he had never considered the matter in any light at all. Because of course Gislane was not a slave; only a blackguard could ever confuse her with one.

  But rude it certainly had been, and for the remainder of the voyage Dr. Coke refrained from engaging him in conversation, although he invariably greeted him most courteously. And now, as the great jagged mountains of Jamaica loomed green and sombre from the vastnesses of the Caribbean Sea, he once again joined the young man on the poop deck.

  'Your homeland, Mr. Hilton. No doubt it pleases you even more than it pleases us poor creatures. Although after five weeks of confinement within the hell that is our cabin I doubt there is one of us will not go down on his or her knees and give thanks to God for our safe deliverance. Or was that the island we passed but two days ago your homeland more than Jamaica?'

  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 eas
y 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.