By the time the others rejoined Roger, he took a very sober view of their chances; and, having given them an outline of his talk with Bloggs, warned them to set no great hopes on his succeeding in his plan. Georgina had relapsed into an apathy of grief, and Roger had a touch of fever, so after Amanda had bathed and re-bandaged his head, they decided to turn in.
Next morning, they were awake and up by the time Lucette and Pedro came in to breakfast, and when Pedro had done Bloggs took his place. As Lucette was still there he said nothing of his plan, but, unseen by her, he gave Roger a solemn wink, which seemed to indicate that things were going well, although Amanda inclined to the opinion that it was nothing but an impertinent familiarity.
During a good part of the day Jenny hung about the poop entrance to the after cabins, hoping that Bloggs would have a word with her about their prospects; but he did not do so and left them to spend the dragging hours in futile speculation. Neither did they become any wiser during the dinner hour. Lucette was unusually silent, which suggested that she had something on her mind, but she again remained at table after Pedro had gone back on deck, and did not rise from it until Bloggs had in turn finished his meal; upon which they left the cabin together.
It was over an hour later when Bloggs returned and, touching his forelock, said ‘Ladies, I be come ter request the pleasure o’ your company out on deck; and yourn too, Mister Brook.’
The civility of Bloggs’s address raised Roger’s hopes, and he shot him a questioning glance.
Bloggs nodded. ‘Pedro be wi’ us. ‘E’s sounded some o’ ‘is mates. Some’s favourable, some’s aginst. But I’ll lay they’ll all come over when you makes publicly they promises you made to I.’
‘What of Lucette?’ Roger asked anxiously.
‘She be considerin’ still. ’Tis fer she more than t’others I piped this ‘ere meetin’. Love makin’ wi’ she be easy as kiss yer ‘and; but our lingos bein’ different makes talkin’ ‘eavy weather. Seein’ that’s the way o’ things, it come to I that you bein’ glib o’ tongue could best do your own persuadin’.’
By no means sanguine about their prospects, but determined to do his utmost, Roger followed the others out on deck. It was still full daylight, though within an hour a brief twilight followed by night would come with tropical suddenness. In the meantime, the north coast of Santo Domingo, along which Circe had been running ever since her capture, could be plainly seen to port, and some three miles distant on her starboard beam, the barque of the Vicomte, presumably leading them towards some secluded bay in which he maintained a permanent base.
The deck was crowded with the whole ship’s company. They were excitedly exchanging rumours concerning what they believed was about to take place. Bloggs made a way for the prisoners to the main sheet bollards. Lucette was there leaning negligently on one of them. Pedro called for silence then clambered up on to the midships capstan. First in Creole, then in Spanish, he addressed the men.
His words were few but to the point. He stigmatised the Vicomte as a man of mean, intolerable unpredictable nature, whom no one could trust; and asked why, now they had a ship of their own, they should submit to his tyranny any longer.
Lucette called out: ‘For the reason that you have previously done so. Because in the past he has brought you much plunder. Because he is a cleverer man and a better leader than any of you will ever be.’
A murmur of agreement followed her counter-blast to Pedro’s stilted speech; but Bloggs quickly took his place and drowned all opposition by a bull-like roar in which he put the situation to his mates and others who could understand English. The hearty ovation he received from his friends suggested that they had already secretly endorsed his plan, but the attitude of the Porto Ricans remained doubtful, and a number of the pirates were evidently averse to deserting their old master.
It was now Roger’s turn, and one of the gifts which had proved most valuable to him in his career was an exceptional ability to express his thoughts, either in speech or writing, with telling clarity. Knowing how much depended on this now he spared no effort to convince his audience of the soundness of Bloggs’s arguments.
Upon the English, since they had already been won over, he wasted little time, simply reiterating his promises to Bloggs, but he spoke at length in passable Spanish, and still longer in his impeccable French. In both he dwelt upon the hazardous life led by pirates; who were liable to be shot for the least disobedience by their own captains, could enjoy the pleasures offered in the larger ports of the Caribbean only at the risk of recognition by someone they had despoiled, and more often than not ended up on a gallows. By contrast he painted the life of a law-abiding privateers-man in glowing colours, asserting that it was not only safer and happier but equally profitable. Finally, he boldly grasped the nettle by turning to Lucette and crying:
‘Now Madame, let us hear you on this question. Do you prefer to continue as an outlaw, or will you encourage the crew of this fine ship to fight her worthily in future under the protection of my mandate?’
Her face was quite expressionless and she was toying with the butt of her silver mounted pistol. He was suddenly seized with the idea that she was about to whip it out in a swift attempt to shoot him. His eyes held hers, watching for the faintest flicker in them which might give him a second’s warning; so that he could escape the ball by throwing himself off the capstan. But his fears were groundless.
Showing her splendid teeth in a broad smile, she replied: ‘You have made a good case, M. le Gouverneur. But whether I sail with pirates or privateers I can take care of myself; so let the men choose. I will abide by the decision of the majority.’
A show of hands was called for. Lucette, three pirates, and two Porto Ricans refrained from voting. These apart, all the others put their hands up for abandoning the Vicomte. It was a clear triumph for Bloggs. But Roger was quick to grasp his chance of continuing to dominate the situation. Beckoning to Pedro, Bloggs and Lucette he said:
‘Now we must make our plans; and for that it would be best to return to the cabin.’
They followed him obediently as he shepherded the women towards the poop, and when they were all gathered in the saloon a general conversation took place in a jargon of English, French and Spanish. It was opened by Roger saying briskly to Pedro:
The ladies and myself are deeply grateful to you, Captain, and I shall do my utmost to ensure that you have no cause to regret the decision you have taken. I assume that your first move will be to turn the ship about as soon as night has fallen, so as to put as great a distance as possible between ourselves and M. le Vicomte before dawn informs him that we have made off on our own?’
Pedro nodded. ‘That is what I intend. The next thing to decide is where I should put you ashore in exchange for the pardons and commission you have promised us.’
Roger raised his eyebrows. ‘But that is already decided for us. It must be in Martinique.’
‘No, no!’ The Carib gave a violent shake to his lank, greasy locks. ‘I am born in Cuba and know the coasts of the Great Antilles well; but I have never sailed to the far southward among the lesser islands.’
‘That difficulty can be overcome. I understand enough of the rudiments of navigation to keep the ship in fair weather on any course we may set.’
‘But Senor, it is a voyage of a thousand miles. The men would grumble at so great a delay in disposing of the loot we have taken with this ship, and having a fling with the money it fetches.’
‘That cannot be helped,’ Roger declared firmly. For over forty-eight hours circumstances had rendered him utterly helpless, but now that he was once more in a position to negotiate he was back on ground that gave such opponents no chance against him. Bloggs and Lucette joined their protests to Pedro’s, but Roger produced arguments the logic of which there was no contesting.
First he put it to them that should they conduct their operations in the northern Caribbean they would sooner or later run into the Vicomte, which would at best mean a b
loody battle to no profit and at worst the exacting of a terrible vengeance by their old master. Then, more telling still, he pointed out that his writing on a plain sheet of paper would be next to worthless. For the pardons and commission to be any real protection they must be properly drawn up with seals attached, and that could only be done after he had actually assumed his governorship of Martinique.
At that Bloggs and Pedro gave way, but Lucette called them a pair of numbskulls, and vowed that Roger was trying to lead them into a trap. It was certain, she said, that there would be one or more British warships lying in the harbour at Fort Royal; so what was to prevent him on their arriving there from having the Circe boarded and all of them hanged.
Roger countered her accusation that he meant to go back on his word by a proposal which would put it out of his power to do so; namely that instead of entering a port they should anchor in some secluded bay and that as a first move he alone should be put ashore. The womenfolk would remain on board as hostages until he had made his way to the capital and returned with the documents which were to be the price of their freedom.
To this Lucette could raise no objection; so he quickly passed to another matter, and asked: ‘Now, what of our clothes and personal possessions? I take it you consider those as part of your loot?’
‘Certainly,’ Lucette replied promptly. ‘You will be allowed to take only the things you stand up in, and we shall assure ourselves that you have no articles of value concealed about you.’
He smiled. ‘I thought as much, But tell me now, how do you propose to fight this ship as a privateer while she is armed with only a bow gun and a stern chaser?’
In the hurried conspiracy which had led to the take-over this point had not occurred to any of them. Now in some consternation they discussed the matter, and the only suggestion forthcoming was that to start with they must confine their own operations to attacking ships with their own weight of metal until they could gradually accumulate cannon from such prizes.
Roger’s smile broadened to a grin, as he said: ‘I think I can do better for you than that. In the ports of Martinique there must be a number of spare cannon taken from captured ships that are no longer seaworthy. If I can provide yon with two broadsides of eight guns, will you agree to give up to us all our personal property?’
Lucette met the offer with a sullen frown. She protested that securing an adequate armament was the men’s business, and she did not see why she should pay for it by surrendering the fine clothes of the captives and her share of their jewels. But Pedro and Bloggs overruled her; and, as a concession to lessen her hostility to the deal, Georgina diplomatically suggested that Amanda, Clarissa and herself should each made her a present of a good gown apiece together with some silks and laces.
That being settled it was further agreed that the captives should again be allowed the liberty of the ship, so that they could take the air on deck, and that a better service of meals should be organised at which they would feed with their captors. By the time Lucette, Bloggs and Pedro left them Roger was again played out. He was also somewhat worried about one aspect of the deal he had made. Had the Circe’s legitimate Captain applied to him for a privateer’s commission it would have been within his rights as a Governor to grant him one—but Pedro was not the Circe’s legitimate Captain. What would the Circe’s owners have to say when they learned of this unorthodox transaction? Of course it could be argued that they had already lost their ship by piracy, and normally they would be able to claim the amount for which she was insured. But should the underwriters maintain that the ship had been recaptured by Roger’s coming to an arrangement with her repentant mutineers, they might refuse to pay; then quite possibly the owners would bring an action against him for the value of the vessel and its cargo.
It was a most unpleasant possibility, and one which in the long run might cost him the whole of his small fortune. But being philosophical by nature he realised that he had been envisaging a far more terrible outcome to the voyage only a few hours back, and decided that it would be quite time enough to face this new anxiety when they arrived in Martinique. Meanwhile he had every reason to be overwhelmingly thankful that Bloggs’s scruples had led to a new situation, and pleased with himself for the way in which he had handled it.
While Amanda attended to his head, she praised him for his cleverness in inveigling their captors into carrying them to their original destination, and they all agreed that he had performed the next thing to a miracle in securing for them their personal belongings. That night, for the first time since the Circe’s capture, they felt a reasonable degree of safety, so decided to sleep in separate cabins. Their relief at the turn events had taken was so profound that all four women wept a little before going to sleep, and mingled their tears with thanksgiving to their Maker for His merciful preservation of them.
In the morning they once more took care with their toilets, and when they had gathered in the big cabin their faces showed fewer signs of strain. Breakfast was the usual casual spread by the hunch-back of the foods that came handy, and Lucette reminded Roger that he had suggested improving their cuisine. After a moment’s thought he looked across at Georgina, and said:
This is simply arranged. Madame la Comtesse shall cook for us.’
‘I?’ exclaimed Georgina, aghast.
He nodded. ‘You have ever shown great interest in cooking, and are a very good cook yourself. The rest of us will help you with the meaner tasks, but I place the sceptre of the galley in your most capable hands.’
They had known each other for so long, and so intimately, that they were at times able to read one another’s thoughts; and now his unspoken intention flashed upon her. He knew that she was grieving desperately for Charles and had decided that to give her a task requiring considerable thought would be the best thing possible for her.
An investigation into Monsieur Pirouet’s remaining stores occupied them for most of the forenoon, then they went up on to the poop. At a glance they saw that the state of the ship had seriously deteriorated since the ending of Captain Cummins’s regime. Instead of the white decks being spotless they were now littered with every kind of filth; and, apart from the man at the wheel and one lookout, the crew were idling the day away, either dozing or playing games of chance in the shade of the awning. However, the squalor of the once tidy ship was a matter of little moment compared to the fact that the coast of Santo Domingo lay on her starboard side; for, although she was tacking against the wind and making slow progress, every mile now carried her still further from the dreaded Vicomte de Senlac.
After a very welcome three-hour spell in the fresh air, they went below to prepare dinner, and under Georgina’s directions the first really appetising meal they had seen for four days was cooked. Jake had been appointed second mate so that Bloggs could enjoy the hot food with the others. He sat down to table with them almost apologetically, and ate his food in embarrassed silence. Pedro, as usual, wolfed his, and disdaining the glass that had been set for him took swigs of wine from the bottle. But Lucette did real justice to each dish and was loud in her praises of Georgina’s efforts.
Wishing to repay her compliments in some way, Georgina remarked: ‘I should be interested to hear where you learned French, Madame, as you speak it when you wish with hardly a trace of the Creole accent, and most fluently.’
Lucette’s white teeth flashed between her full red lips. ‘Madame la Comtesse is most gracious; but French comes naturally to me, for I am a member of a noble French family. I am a Tascher de la Pagerie.’
Georgina, taking this to be a bare-faced lie, quickly lowered her eyes to conceal her disbelief at such a pretension; but Roger thought it quite probable that Lucette was speaking the truth.
For well over two hundred years colonies administered by French aristocrats had been established in Saint-Domingue—the western third of the otherwise Spanish owned island off which they were cruising—Martinique, Guadeloupe and several other islands. By the reign of Louis XV many of th
em owned vast estates, and on visits to Versailles had outshone their relatives who lived in France, owing to the immense wealth drawn from their plantations. Unlike the British they paid small regard to the colour bar, with the result that a high percentage of this Creole aristocracy now had a good dash of black blood. The Comte de Caylus, whom Roger had fought and killed seven years before, had been a product of just such a family history, for he had owned estates in Martinique as well as Brittany and had himself been a mulatto. Yet, while there seemed to Roger no particular reason to doubt Lucette’s claim, it did strike him as strange that the daughter of a French nobleman should, even, if captured or kidnapped in the first instance, have willingly adopted the sort of life she was leading. So he asked her:
‘How comes it then, that we find you in your present situation?’
She replied without hesitation, and this time none of them felt doubt of her honesty. ‘For having aided my young mistress in an intrigue I was punished by being sent to work in the cane fields; so I ran away.’
‘Pardon my curiosity, Madame;’ remarked Clarissa, ‘but what you have just told us is difficult to reconcile with your being the daughter of a nobleman.’
‘I did not say that I was,’ Lucette retorted, quite unruffled. ‘My white blood comes from the present M. de Tascher’s grandfather. But I will tell you my story if you wish.’
A murmur of encouragement having greeted her offer, she went on: ‘I was born on the de la Pagerie estate in Martinique and as my mother was a slave I, too, was technically a slave. But, as you must know, there are varying degress of slavery. My mother was a much beloved servant in the house, and it so happened that she gave birth to me in the same week as Madame de Tascher was delivered of her second daughter, Marie Rose Josephine. In consequence my mother was given Josephine to suckle as well as myself; so we became foster sisters.
The Dark Secret of Josephine Page 14
