Buccaneer

by Dudley Pope

  “Where’s Aurelia?” she demanded. “Thomas forgot to shout over that we ought to wear dresses. I hope she has something suitably drab. Colours, bare hair and bare arms are the original sin to these people, though Thomas demands more!” She glared at the approaching boat. “Just look at them. Hats look like black flower pots. Luckily Thomas bought one last year from a Dutchman. Well, I’ll go down and see Aurelia.”

  The frigate’s boat came alongside the rope ladder and the Griffin’s men took her painter and sternfast. The first man on board saluted Whetstone, who was standing beside the break in the bulwark where the ladder was rigged.

  “John Hulls, sir, lieutenant of the Urgent, Commonwealth frigate, over yonder.”

  Whetstone bowed, as though vastly impressed at meeting a naval officer. “Thomas Whetheread, sir, owner and master under God of the Peleus, lying over there.”

  The lieutenant turned and introduced himself to Ned, who with suitable nervousness said he was Edward Kent, the owner of the Griffin, but the master was Mr Saxby, whom he presented.

  “Ah,” the lieutenant said briskly, making way for the army officer struggling up the ladder, “having both owners and masters together makes it so much easier.”

  Finally the army officer lumbered on board and was promptly introduced by the Urgent’s lieutenant as Major Slinger, of the 22nd Foot.

  Whetstone raised his eyebrows and said to Ned: “Shall we go down to your cabin so that these gentlemen can inspect our papers?”

  Ned looked suitably embarrassed. “Give me a moment, gentlemen: our respective wives are – er,” he hurriedly changed what he was going to say, in view of Major Slinger’s lugubrious features, “making themselves tidy in anticipation of your visit.”

  He hurried below and knocked on the door. Aurelia told him to come in. She looked beautiful, and that, Ned realized, was all there was to it. Dress her in old sacks, black serge or grey poplin and she would still be beautiful, just as nothing could make Diana look like a nun.

  “Well?” Diana demanded with mock severity. “Are we suitably attired?”

  “You both look like Royalists’ doxies rather than Roundheads’ spouses, but that’s Nature’s doing. I’m bringing down a couple of officers, so please look demure!”

  Major Slinger, the first to be introduced because of his seniority, both in rank and age, was clearly having trouble with his Puritan beliefs as his bulging eyes swung from Diana to Aurelia and back.

  Diana, with the expression of a mother superior of a strict Protestant order, curtseyed and was suitably shy when the gallant major wanted to kiss her hand. Instead of lifting her hand to his lips he bowed deeply and, because Diana was not expecting it, looked as though he was going to bite her fingers.

  Aurelia, now knowing what to expect, carried it off without speaking a word, but Lieutenant Hulls was determined to show that the navy knew what to do.

  “Y’sarvant, ma’am,” he said, kissing Diana’s hand and then doing the same to Aurelia, but obviously unable to choose between the two of them. Major Slinger did not hesitate: within a moment he had Diana trapped in a corner and was commiserating with her for having such a heartless husband who made her accompany him on such a long voyage from England.

  Diana, seeing that Thomas could hear the major’s words, simpered: “Yes, Major, and how understanding of you to realize it. So many thousands of miles – or is it leagues? I always mix them up. And such huge seas. Why, I swear that one went over the mast. And the sharks and whales and dolphins following us all the time, just waiting to eat us up!”

  “Dolphins are not dangerous, ma’am,” Lieutenant Hulls volunteered reassuringly. “Sharks, yes, but not dolphins.”

  “These were,” Major Slinger declared in a parade ground voice. “Why, the lady saw their teeth, didn’t ye, ma’am?”

  “Oh indeed! A thousand teeth in every mouth, and a dozen mouths always snapping. The noise of all those mouths snapping shut – why even Thomas admitted it reminded him of war drums on the Benin coast!”

  “Slaving, eh?” Hulls said. “Wretchedly unhealthy place, I’m told.”

  “Lost half my crew from sickness,” Whetstone confessed, although he had never transported a slave in his life nor been near West Africa. “You know the rhyme –”

  ‘Beware and take care of the Bight of Benin,

  There’s one comes out for five that go in.’”

  The lieutenant shivered. “As bad as that? It’s bad enough here. The dead at Hispaniola…”

  “Hispaniola?” Whetstone said innocently. “What happened, the Dons hit by the plague?”

  The lieutenant glanced at Major Slinger who, having heard the question turned his back and continued an animated conversation with Diana.

  “The fleet tried to land at Santo Domingo.”

  “Whose fleet – are the French out here?”

  “No, ours,” Hulls said miserably. “We were supposed to capture Hispaniola but thousands died of sickness, and we came on and captured this island instead.”

  Whetstone looked as shocked as a bishop hearing a bawdy joke. “The Lord Protector won’t be satisfied with that!”

  “No…well, Admiral Penn and General Venables have gone to England to report and have taken the fleet.”

  “You seem to have little left to defend Jamaica. Aren’t you worried that the Spaniards will attack?”

  “Yes. There are just the two frigates, and the four storeships, which arrived late with our artillery and horses.”

  Slinger finally tore himself away from Diana and came over to Ned and Whetstone. “Yes, well, the lieutenant has told you. We have more than two thousand starving soldiers here.”

  “Starving? With all the fruit on the trees?” Whetstone said.

  “Yes, starving,” Slinger barked. “They’re not animals, you know; you expect them to climb trees like monkeys and pull down fruit?”

  Whetstone shrugged his shoulders and Slinger continued: “I must see your manifests. I shall requisition any food you are carrying, apart from your crew’s provisions.”

  “You won’t,” Ned said calmly, surprised to hear his own voice but finding the decision easy to make. “You can buy it at a fair price, but you’re not requisitioning anything.”

  “Oh yes, I am! I’m the deputy military governor here, and what I say must be done.”

  Ned shook his head and continued: “I am a peace-loving man and I have only two things to say. First, the Griffin and the Peleus can be sailing out of here in three minutes with you and the lieutenant still on board. Second, if the frigates chase us, we simply drop you both over the side for them to pick up. So, Major, you can read the manifests and give us your prices in writing and signed by you, or we’ll cut our anchor cable now.”

  “You’ll regret this, Mr Kent! You sound like a Royalist to me! Well, we’ve cleared them out of Barbados, and we don’t propose letting them wriggle in here!”

  “What did you do in Barbados, then?”

  “Ha, root and branch, root and branch. We sequestrated their estates and sent ’em back to England as prisoners of State. All of them. Well, except one scoundrel that escaped before we arrived. Younger son of the Earl of Ilex, I’m told. Still, he couldn’t take his plantation!” He laughed at the thought of it. “So his precious plantation was sold to a loyal Parliamentarian.”

  Ned nodded in agreement. “Quite right; it’s the only way to treat them. As you said, root and branch!”

  “Yes – now, your manifests, please.”

  Saxby stepped forward with a handful of papers.

  “Sugar…trade goods… Where’s the cargo you brought out from England?” Slinger asked.

  “Just piece goods, Major; we bought the sugar in Antigua and Montserrat. Fetches a good price in England, you know!”

  “Not a bit of good to us. We
ll, a few tons. But we need flour. Now, not next year. How about you?” he asked Whetstone.

  “In ballast, I’m afraid. I was going on to the Moskito Coast for logwood. Might pick up some fustic, cochineal and indigo if the Spaniards want to trade.”

  Major Slinger now looked a worried man; Diana walked across the cabin without him noticing.

  “Flour, we must have it!”

  “Why don’t you send your storeships across to the Main?” Ned asked. “The Dons have it; they’ll sell it at a price!”

  “But we’re at war with them – we’ve just captured this island from them!” Slinger expostulated.

  “Major, you’re a soldier; I’m a businessman,” Whetstone said confidentially. “Let me assure you that a ship visiting a small Spanish port discreetly can get all the flour she wants. Of course it’ll be maize flour, not wheat, but it eats well. No Don can resist a profit.”

  “But I can’t send the storeships,” Slinger wailed. “They are due to sail for England in three days, escorted by the frigates. I have written orders from the general, and the captains have written orders from the admiral.”

  “Oh dear, oh dear,” Yorke said sympathetically. “So all you have are the fishermen’s dugouts. Well, at least you have some fish.”

  “No, not even fish!” Slinger said lugubriously. “All the fishermen have bolted into the mountains.”

  “I thought these islands had enormous herds of beeves and hogs,” Whetstone said. “At least you have plenty of meat!”

  “No, no, no,” Slinger moaned. “The foolish soldiers sent out to catch cattle used muskets and all the livestock has bolted. Most of it was wild anyway.”

  “How did the Spanish catch it before you came?” Ned asked.

  “They had specially trained negroes using horses who ran them down with lances.”

  “Won’t they work for you?”

  Slinger shook his head. “They bolted when they saw us coming. They released all the domestic animals and drove them up into the mountains. They’re all somewhere over on the north side of the island.”

  “Well, you need to prepare land for growing your own food,” Whetstone said briskly. “No fighting for your soldiers now, so they can change from swords to shovels. Your blacksmiths can beat out ploughshares, eh!”

  But Slinger did not laugh. “I should not talk of this, I suppose, but the lieutenant knows of it and will not gossip. The fact is that most of the officers will not encourage their men to prepare the soil. We’ve even offered them land for themselves if they will settle here and produce crops. But they refuse.”

  “Why?” Yorke asked incredulously. “I’m told that in Barbados land costs £20 an acre!”

  “The officers are soldiers. They hate the tropics. So many died in Hispaniola from cholera, black vomit, malaria… Even here we lose a hundred men a week. All they want to do is to get back to England; to them, clearing and planting land might lead the Lord Protector to decide to keep Jamaica, and leave them out here as the garrison.”

  Ned, thinking of Kingsnorth, now owned by Wilson, gave a cynical laugh which irritated Slinger. “What is funny, Mr Kent? Do you find the death of more than half an expedition humorous?”

  “No,” Ned said shortly, “what’s funny is the stupidity of soldiers who would sooner starve than dig. Sailors see things differently: if they fall in the sea, they swim to avoid drowning.”

  “Sugar,” Whetstone said suddenly. “Are you going to buy the Griffin’s sugar?”

  “I suppose so,” Slinger said.

  Whetstone told him the price and added: “In view of your earlier remarks about requisitioning, perhaps the lieutenant would allow you to use his boat to fetch the money first. Then we can begin unloading – at the wharf in front of your headquarters, do you suggest?”

  “This is all most irregular!” Slinger protested.

  “Yes,” Yorke agreed. “We are the first merchant ships to call, I imagine.”

  “Well, yes,” Slinger admitted.

  “Do you have the money?” Whetstone demanded.

  “Yes. I need the governor’s approval, of course.”

  “You will not have trouble getting that. Listen carefully. How much will you pay for flour?”

  “How do I know! I’m not a merchant. I only know the price of sugar because those drunken planters in Barbados talked of nothing else.”

  “Very well, talk to the governor and decide what you will offer – for grain and for flour.”

  “But I don’t understand. To whom do we make an offer?”

  “To Mr Kent and to me. And if we accept it, as soon as you’ve unloaded the sugar we will sail and get you grain or flour. It’ll take about two weeks.”

  “Can you guarantee it?”

  Whetstone looked him straight in the eye. “I guarantee it.”

  “How many tons?”

  Whetstone turned to Yorke, who said: “I can load 400 tons.”

  “So you have 600 tons, Major, providing your price is right.”

  “Where will you get it?”

  “How much of the sugar and grain money will find its way into your pocket and the governor’s?”

  “What an outrageous question!”

  “Quite. We are going to enemy territory; that’s all you need to know, particularly when thinking of a price. Now, supposing you fetch the purchase money for the sugar, and we’ll be preparing to bring the Griffin alongside the jetty.”

  At dawn the next day the Griffin and the Peleus weighed anchor and ran down the harbour, past the jetty where two companies of soldiers had made short work of unloading the sugar, and with the Peleus leading they rounded the sandspit and headed out into the open sea.

  Aurelia, back in breeches, stood beside Ned watching the peninsula foreshorten and then lengthen again as the Griffin turned south-east and they saw it from seaward.

  “Are we pirates or buccaneers?” she asked mischievously.

  “Madam, you saw the gallant major deliver the commission signed by the governor. We are buccaneers!”

  “But we have no boucan!”

  “No, once again we’ll have to make do with salt beef, but Thomas says that when we get back we’ll go on to the Cayman islands and catch turtles, and then up to Cuba, where there are so many beeves that a fleet could supply itself with boucan.”

  “Ned,” Aurelia asked, almost plaintively, “when we do get fresh meat, may I cook my own steak? All that smoke, and the meat gets so dry over the boucan.”

  “When did you learn about boucaning?”

  “Oh, he tried it several times.” The faint emphasis on the “he” told Ned yet again that he had nothing to be jealous about, but he found that at night even in the cramped bunk while holding her naked in his arms, he would be jealous of her past, when Wilson had held her. He had reminded himself that the man was impotent, and that she had never loved him, and that no lover had less to be jealous of than himself, but it was no good. Finally he admitted to himself that even if she had had a pet puppy, he would have been jealous of it. Love and jealousy seemed to be two sides of the same coin.

  Oddly enough last night, after they had left the jetty with the Griffin and anchored out in the harbour, clear of the swarms of mosquitoes and sandflies, she had shown that she too could be jealous. Her long hair loose and making a soft shawl over his shoulders, her breasts melting into him and a leg flung over his thigh so that he did not know when his body ended and hers began, she had asked him about the first woman he had ever loved.

  Ned had told her her name, described the colour of her hair and eyes, and how deeply they had loved each other and sworn eternal devotion. By this time Aurelia was lying beside him on one elbow, the moonlight through the skylight showing her eyes narrowed and her breasts taut, the nipples stiff with anger.

  “T
his woman – this Rosemary, why did you not marry her, if you were both so épris?“

  “Oh yes, we were enamoured; that is exactly the word!”

  “So now you betray her with me! And you betray me with her! Mon Dieu, have you no shame?”

  “No,” he admitted. “I betrayed you both without a moment’s thought…”

  “Oh! You beast!” Aurelia tried to scramble out of the bunk but because she was on the inside she had to pull herself across Ned’s body, and the moment she was above him he pulled her down, struggling, her hair falling across his face and, tickling his nose, making him sneeze.

  The absurdity of the situation started him laughing and this made a furious Aurelia pummel him in her efforts to get free. Finally Ned managed to stop laughing and hold her still long enough to say: “Beloved, we were both four years old at the time!”

  To begin with she would not believe him. “How do I know this?”

  “You don’t, my dearest, but I told you her name. Diana will know her; ask her who she married, who she is now.”

  “Who is she?” Aurelia asked suspiciously, as if half expecting to meet her on board another privateer.

  “The Countess of Rolles. And probably with her husband in exile in France, or wherever the Prince is living.”

  “You make me foolish,” she said crossly, rolling to her side of the bunk and turning her back on him.

  “No,” he said, clasping her body close to him, “that’s the first time a woman has ever been jealous of my past. You don’t know how flattered I am.”

  With the sun rising and Ned feeling the effects of a night spent making love instead of sleeping, Aurelia said: “Where are we going for this corn?”

  “Thomas reckons we should find enough at Riohacha, about 450 miles and the nearest part of the Main.”

  “Will they want goods or money?”

  “Thomas thinks they would have preferred sugar, but we wanted to make sure the English governor of Jamaica was an honest man; that’s why we made him buy the sugar.”