Matt exchanged a glance with Suzanne. 'Why, there has been no reaction at all, to our knowledge.'
'We know Ian Lander returned to Jamaica when Matt dismissed him,' Suzanne said. 'But there has been a remarkable absence of letters.'
'I suppose the war is playing its usual havoc with shipping,' Matt said.
'But the war is now ending,' Suzanne said. 'So Tom says.'
'Peace was signed at Versailles last month,' Coke said. 'America is free, but that apart, all the colonial conquests are to be restored, save that Great Britain will retain Tobago. You can thank Admiral Rodney's victory at the Saintes for that achievement at the least. But you were there. I had forgotten.'
'We were both there,' Matt said.
'Indeed. There is another of the many rumours which hang about your heads like clouds about Olympus,' Coke said. 'But you are wrong to suppose you are entirely neglected. There is a letter for you.' He felt in his pocket, produced the somewhat crumpled envelope. 'I think there was difficulty in having it delivered, so I volunteered.'
Matt frowned. 'Robert?'
'Or Dirk,' Suzanne suggested.
'Not so distant,' Coke said. 'English Harbour.'
Matt turned the envelope over, then slit it with his thumb. 'I know of no one in English Harbour.' He read, and his frown faded into a smile, which rapidly became a laugh. 'You'll not believe it.'
'Then tell me of it,' Suzanne suggested, 'and at least give me the chance.'
' "His Royal Highness the Prince William, and the captain and the officers of His Majesty's ship Boreas, request the pleasure of Mr. Matthew Hilton and Mistress Suzanne Huys at a dinner to celebrate the signing of peace with France and Holland, to be held on board H.M.S. Boreas on the evening of Friday, 17th November, 1783." Why, that is the day after tomorrow.'
'So it is,' Coke agreed.
Matt gazed at Suzanne. 'After more than a year.'
'But this is the navy, Matt. Not the planters. They'll have learned you were present at the Saintes.'
'Thus they hope to entertain you as well, sweetheart.'
'Which is obviously impossible. And the Prince ... there is a pity. You will have to make my apologies. And to the captain. Do you know him?'
Matt looked at Coke. 'Do you?'
Coke shook his head. 'You'll attend?'
'Why, I ...' again the quick look at Suzanne. 'What do you think, sweetheart?'
'That you should go. You were at the battle, and covered yourself with glory, indeed. You are worth a place. And this will be a naval and military gathering. You'll have no planting controversy.'
Coke shook his head. 'Now that I'd think is at least likely. If the navy is entertaining, then will it be everyone of consequence on Antigua.'
Suzanne shrugged. 'Matt has but to keep his temper. You'll do that, Matt?'
'Eh? Oh, yes, sweetheart. I shall keep my temper. I promise you that. But we'll talk no more of it. You'll stay with us, Tom? If I am presently criticized by my fellows, surely my success here on Green Grove will initiate support and indeed, copy? From here we can really construct that happy society of which your Mr. Wesley dreams.'
'And then?' Coke asked quietly.
'Ah. Now there is a point on which we will have to debate.
I'd use the whip on no man, but I cannot see how we can
keep these islands prosperous without forced labour. And my
ancestors died for this prosperity, Tom. I can do no less...' he smiled at Suzanne. 'For my son.'
Coke nodded. ‘I honour your point of view, Matt. 'Tis something we will discuss. And I will happily stay with you the while, if Suzanne will permit it.'
'It will be my pleasure, Tom. Matt is so busy I sadly lack a companion, often enough.'
'I shall be here, I promise you,' He accepted a fresh glass of punch, leaned back in his chair, and inhaled. 'To Green Grove, and her enlightened owners. I feel, you know, as if at last I have caused a crack in the facade of unfeelingness, of brutality, of inhumanity, if you like, which shrouds these marvellous islands. For be sure I place much of the credit on our conversations as we came across the Atlantic, Matt. And the rest on your own courage and determination. And no doubt on the support of Suzanne here. I drink to you all.'
'And you ask no questions,' Matt said, quietly.
'I cannot believe it is my place to do so.'
'Aye.' Matt gazed at Suzanne. 'We none of us ask questions. Probably because we all of us know I have no answers.' His shoulders rose and fell. 'You do me no justice, Tom. I, a man of courage and determination? I am a hateful fellow, a shallow coward.'
Coke looked at Suzanne, but she said nothing; she gazed at Matt.
'Robert was right, of course, from the beginning; Georgiana was right. Suzanne, thank God, has never tried to be either right or wrong, as regards me. It was an infatuation. But because of it to what was that poor child condemned? Had I not come along might she not have married some English squire and lived out her life in contentment and even happiness? Now I do not know if she is dead, or enduring some living death. And thanks to me, poor Sue has had her life utterly ruined ... by heaven, I am all of a criminal, when you come down to it.'
'Oh, what nonsense,' Suzanne said. 'Because of you, I perhaps realized that my life was being ruined, and took steps to correct that sadness. Believe me, Matt, if your Gislane has gained as much from life as I have, because of her knowledge of you, then is she blessed.'
Matt looked at Coke. 'What do you think, old friend?'
The missionary sighed. 'God knows. Certainly He moves in a mysterious way. I see you expiating your sins in attempting to treat your slaves as human beings. Be sure that Augustine, Francis of Assisi, perhaps even Mr. Wesley himself, were but expiating sins when they undertook their great steps into the unknown of human thought and endeavour. Again I say, I drink to you both, to the man who would dare, and the woman who would support him; both are equally deserving of honour. And I say again, Matt, take care, and guard your temper, for all of our sakes, when you venture into public'
What memories were brought back as he was rowed across the still, landlocked waters of English Harbour. The Boreas was the only frigate presently moored here, but the entire magnificent natural harbour had been transformed into an unassailable naval base, with barracks dotting the shoreline and the small islands in the bay, and gun emplacements dominating the narrow entrance to the sea beyond. It was totally unlike the somewhat exposed anchorage at Gros Islets, and yet totally similar. He half expected to see Arbuckle and McLeod leaning over the side to welcome him aboard.
Yet there was a difference. There seemed less noise and bustle as he mounted the ladder, and there was less strain on the faces of those who waited to welcome him, either officers or men. While the captain was as far removed from Rodney as it was possible to imagine, no more than average height and very slightly built. His voice, too, was as quiet as Rodney's had been overloud. 'Mr. Hilton.' He offered his hand. 'Welcome aboard, sir. Horatio Nelson, at your service. Your Royal Highness, may I present Mr. Matthew Hilton, of Plantation Green Grove.'
'Hilton.' Prince William of Clarence was the King's third son, and possessed all his brother's florid good looks, with a mop of fair hair to crown a rather moon-like expression. 'Gad, sir, it seems impossible to move in these West Indies without hearing that name. My pleasure, sir.'
'And my honour,' Matt agreed. 'I can but apologize for Mistress Huys' absence, but she is a nursing mother.' He gazed at the Prince.
'Then is the child's fortune our misfortune,' Prince William agreed, without embarrassment.
'You'll come below, Mr. Hilton,' Nelson suggested. And hesitated. 'We have been joined by some other planters, you understand.'
Matt smiled at him. 'And you understand that I am not popular with my peers.'
'One is surrounded by rumour, Mr. Hilton. But this night I would prefer to ignore all such controversial matters. You are my guest, sir. You have but to remember that.'
Matt entered the great ca
bin. Here were several other officers, and eight planters; he only recognized two of them, and these mainly from his boyhood - one was Murray Chester, descendant of those Chesters who had been so resolutely opposed to both Kit Hilton and his friend Daniel Parke in the early colonial days, and as Matt remembered, an inveterate opponent of his own father in every possible way, and the other was Harry Dewing, a friend of Chester's. But all were smiling pleasantly enough for the time being and the cabin itself was a picture, the great table laden with silver, the serving to be done by marine privates, in brilliant red jackets faced with white and gold; the officers in full dress, with gold-hilted swords and gleaming white vests -indeed the planters, although every one sported a spotless white cravat, and there was a smattering of plum and deep green amongst their vests, were made to look remarkably shabby. Nor could anyone doubt that Matt was guest of honour, as he was seated on the captain's right, with the Prince on his own right. And as dinner commenced, the marine band struck up on the quarterdeck.
‘I will confess to be quite overwhelmed by your hospitality, Captain,' he remarked as they ate.
Nelson's smile was a trifle melancholy. 'Pure jealousy, Mr. Hilton, I do assure you,' he said. 'You have been where I should have been. Where I shall always regret not having been; in the line at the Saintes. Why, man, there is an entire career gone to waste.'
'Oh, come now, sir,' Matt argued. 'Surely you are unusually young to hold the rank you do? The future can have no terrors.'
'I am twenty-four years old, Mr. Hilton, and as such I think I am the youngest post captain in His Majesty's Navy. But that is a direct result of the war. War, sir, is almost the natural state of man, and in it a man may find his true direction, his true place. But now, sir, why, are we not celebrating peace? And we must be honest with ourselves, Mr. Hilton. This is no victory we honour. Rodney's achievement is the only success we can truly acclaim. Thus will our nation be content to lick its wounds, to brood and attempt to recover. How long do you think, ten, fifteen, twenty years? There will be no promotion save into dead men's shoes for that time, and twenty years will be too long for me. I shall then be one of the oldest post captains, no doubt.' Then he smiled, and wiped away all the potent misery which had been gathering in his face. 'At least I have put myself in the best possible way. The West Indies, sir, this is the station for honour.' He waited, while the sliced roast beef was placed in front of them, and Matt discovered that Chester was watching him, frowning, and constantly emptying his wine glass. He realized that Coke had been more correct that he in estimating the possible hazards of this evening, and in demanding that he keep a firm hold on his temper.
The marine moved on, and the captain carved his beef. 'Mr. Chester's,' he remarked. 'He slaughtered two cows for our benefit.'
'I should have been happy to assist you,' Matt said.
'Tush. What are a couple head of cattle? And I am hoping you will be able to assist me in another way. You were born and bred in these islands. Do you know our neighbour, Nevis?'
Matt started, and his head turned. ‘I have never been there.'
'Ah.' Nelson chewed, thoughtfully.
The Prince gave a bellow of laughter. 'Our captain seeks some solace, Mr. Hilton, from the boredom of keeping the peace. Perhaps you'll recall a doctor, by name of Nisbet?'
Matt frowned. 'I have heard the name. But I think...'
'He is dead, poor fellow. Oh, indeed. Some years ago. And has left behind the prettiest little widow in all the islands, I do declare. Our captain has managed to lose his heart.'
'I'll not have Fanny's name bandied, sir’ Nelson declared, flushing very red.
'Nor will it, Horatio, I promise you that,' agreed the Duke. 'Hasting, tell that band to stop its confounded banging. I wish to propose a toast.'
The marine lieutenant nodded and hurried for the companionway. Nelson sighed. 'You'll at least wait on the loyal toast, Prince William.' He lowered his voice as he leaned towards Matt. 'It is confoundedly difficult having the fellow along, although truth to say he is pleasant enough, and a useful patron.' The music stopped with a roll of drums, and he rose to his feet, his glass held high. 'Gentlemen, the King.'
Everyone rose. 'The King.'
They sat down, but left the Prince still standing. 'Now a more important toast,' he declared. 'Gentlemen, I give you, Mistress Frances Nisbet.'
Once again they rose. 'Mistress Frances Nisbet.'
The marines hurried round to refill their glasses, for it was the captain's turn to remain standing. 'And now, gentlemen, I will ask you to join me in toasting the real reason for our presence. Gentlemen, I give you the Victory of the Saintes, and couple with it the name of that remarkable woman who will ever fill a page in the history of the Royal Navy, Mistress Suzanne Huys.'
This time there was the slightest hesitation before the planters joined their hosts. 'Mistress Suzanne Huys.'
Matt's head began to roll after the third bumper in rapid succession, but he deemed it was certainly his turn, and kept his feet. 'Then, Captain Nelson, and Prince William, may I offer, on behalf of my fellow planters and myself, the force which has kept us solvent, and if I may speak entirely on behalf of Jamaica and Antigua, where my interests lie, has kept us English. Gentlemen, the Royal Navy.'
The other planters rose readily enough for this, and the ship's officers beamed and nodded their agreement. Matt sat down with a sigh of relief, and realized that Chester had remained standing, opposite him.
'And now, Captain Nelson,' he said. 'And Your Royal Highness, if I may be allowed to propose a toast, it shall be to that institution which indeed does keep us all solvent, and has made us the men we are. Gentlemen, I give you slavery; long may it prosper.'
It was Matt's turn to hesitate; everyone else was on his feet in a moment, and Nelson was looking down at him.
'Come, sir,' said Prince William. 'Will you not drink to your own prosperity? You are a planter, are you not?'
‘I am, sir,' Matt agreed. 'And daily wonder how I may support such an equivocal position.'
'Well, then,' Chester declared. 'We shall drink without you, Matt, and I shall add a rider to my toast, damnation to all abolitionists.'
He stared across the table, but Matt merely nodded, for all he felt the blood begin to pound in his cheeks.
Nelson sat down. 'You are a confoundedly contrary fellow, Mr. Hilton. So you are a humanitarian. As am I. I have heard it said that you no longer use the whip on your plantation. Neither do I use the whip on board my ship, save where it is quite unavoidable. I honour you, sir, for your sentiments, as I hope you will honour me.'
'Yet you support the iniquities of owning a fellow man,' Matt said.
Nelson frowned. 'Well, sir, perhaps I have never considered the matter deeply enough. I am a sailor, Mr. Hilton. I pretend to nothing more than that, but I claim to think about my profession. And on those grounds at the least I would oppose the abolition of the slave trade, which I understand is at least a part of your platform. I tell you, sir, there is no better school for seamen. I'd rather take a man from a slaver than from the finest Indiaman afloat.'
'If I may say so, Captain, without I trust giving offence, there is a very limited point of view. Although believe me I honour your regard for the service you adorn.'
Once again the normal severity of Nelson's face was relieved by his smile. 'Then are we agreed to differ, as friends?' He raised his glass without standing. 'I drink a private toast, to a man who is not afraid to display his sentiments, however unpopular. The world could do with more of your stamp, Mr. Hilton. Now is the matter buried.'
But the table had become silent as everyone had listened to the brief argument.
‘I think it should remain above ground for a while longer, Captain Nelson,' Chester suggested.
'I'll have no quarrelling on board my ship, Mr. Chester.'
'Nor do I desire a quarrel, Captain,' Chester insisted. 'But to say truth we so seldom have the pleasure of conversing with Matt here - he remains locked away on
Green Grove with that beautiful... ah ... cousin of his - that I am sure we are truly interested to discover how he keeps discipline.'
‘I think, sir ...' Nelson began, clearly anticipating the very quarrel he had meant to avoid, in view of Chester's studied rudeness.
But Matt interrupted, keeping his smile fixed. 'I think a man does best to lead, rather than to drive.'
'Oh, well said, sir,' Nelson agreed.
'Do you then, head the gangs in the field?' Dewing inquired.
‘I should not be afraid to do so, did I consider it necessary,' Matt said. 'It is my profit at stake.'
Chester's face was cold. 'Yet you play an ambiguous role, Matt. One which I feel should be clarified, for the benefit of all Antigua. Is it not true that you give bed and board to a notorious trouble-maker, Thomas Coke?'
Matt felt he was sliding down a snowy hillside, with no means of stopping until he reached the bottom, and could only hope it was soft there as well. 'I see no reason, sir, for discussing my guests with you.'
'Then perhaps you will discuss yourself,' Dewing insisted. 'Are you, or are you not, a supporter of the Abolitionist Movement?'
'Gentlemen,' Nelson protested. 'The Duke of Clarence is present.'
'Oh, let them differ, Horatio,' Prince William cried. 'It does a man good to listen to the points of view.'
‘I am not the least afraid to answer Mr. Dewing's question, Your Royal Highness,' Matt said. 'Yes, sir, I think I am an abolitionist, at heart, I cannot but believe that the abolition of slavery is an inevitable event, and perhaps sooner than any of us believe possible. I cannot but believe that the whole weight of English opinion, than which there is no more powerful factor in all the world, is increasingly moving in that direction. And I believe they are right. I would be happy to lend my support to such a venture.'
There was a moment of utterly scandalized silence, then Nelson spoke. 'Yet you do in fact have slaves on Green Grove.'
'Yes, sir, I do. You may describe me as a moral coward, if you wish, but I cannot see that to turn my slaves free, into a society where I could not afford to pay them wages and still compete against my fellow planters, and where, by law, they would very rapidly be re-enslaved were I to shut down my plantation, would be productive of anything but disorder.'
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