Buccaneer hl-2

by Tim Severin

  Hector felt a twinge of satisfaction mixed with outrage. He had guessed correctly. It was Coxon who had provided Morgan with the names of those who had been on the South Seas raid. Coxon was the turncoat and informer. He was still seeking to curry favour with Morgan just as he had done when he had tried to hand Hector over, believing him to be related to Governor Lynch.

  The attorney was speaking again. 'Did you provide maps to assist the planning and execution of this illegal raid?'

  'I was destitute and without employment. I had no idea that the charts would be used in that manner.'

  'Can anyone vouch for the truth of this or provide you with character?'

  Desperately Hector tried to think of someone who might speak up on his behalf. Snead was far away and would never admit to copying. There was no one else who might speak up for him. Then he remembered the carriage ride from Morgan's plantation in company with Susanna and her brother and the friendship that seemed to blossom between them.

  'There is someone,' he said, 'Mr Robert Lynch, the nephew of Governor Lynch, would speak up for me. He was in Jamaica when all this took place.'

  Brice looked disappointed. His lips set in a thin line. 'Sir Thomas Lynch is unavailable as he left London only recently to return to his duties as governor. Unfortunately Robert Lynch also cannot be here.'

  Hector detected the sombre note in the reply. 'Has something happened to Robert Lynch?'

  'Six months ago he died of the flux and, it is said, of chagrin. He had lost a great deal of money in indigo plantation.'

  'I'm sorry to hear it. He was kind-hearted and generous.'

  'Indeed. Have you no one else to substantiate your story?' Brice was looking at him as if genuinely interested in helping him.

  Taking a deep breath, Hector said, 'Perhaps Mr Lynch's sister, Susanna, would be able to give evidence on my behalf in place of her brother.'

  The attorney raised his eyebrows in shock. 'Mr Lynch, if I were you I would think carefully before approaching that person. Sir Thomas Exton would not take it kindly that his daughter-in-law is called as a character witness in a criminal case.'

  Hector tried to make sense of the reply. 'I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean.'

  'Sir Thomas Exton is the Advocate General. He is also the senior member of the Admiralty Court. This means that he will be president of the Court if your case comes to trial. Last month his oldest son John - whom I may say has the reputation as an up-and-coming attorney in his own right — married Miss Susanna Lynch. That is why Sir Thomas delayed his departure for Jamaica. To celebrate the wedding.'

  Hector's spirits sagged. The news of Susanna's wedding was not unexpected. He had always imagined that she would one day marry someone of her own background. But the knowledge that she was now the wife of a lawyer somehow made the announcement more hurtful.

  'I admit that I copied the maps but I was merely using my experience in cartography in the same way that I assisted Mr Ringrose in making drawings and plans of all the anchorages and places we visited in the South Seas.'

  For the first time in the interview Hector sensed that he had said something to assist his case. Brice said softly, 'You made maps in the South Seas? Tell me about them.'

  'Mr Ringrose always took sketches of the places where we anchored, and he drew profiles of the coast whenever we were near land. I helped him. Occasionally we took soundings with lead and line. Much as the Spaniards do when they prepared their own deroteros and pilot books.'

  'You have seen a pilot book for the Peruvian coast?' Belatedly Hector realised that Brice knew exactly what a derotero was.

  'There was one aboard a vessel we captured — the Santo Rosario.,'

  'What happened to it?'

  'It was returned to the Spaniards.'

  A flicker of disappointment crossed the attorney's face.

  'But we made notes and sketches before it was handed back,' Hector hastened to add.

  'We?'

  'My colleague Dan and I.'

  Brice looked at Hector with narrowed eyes.

  'If you still have this material, I would like to see a sample.'

  'If you allow me to contact my friend, that can be arranged.'

  Brice began rolling up the Caribbean chart. 'We will continue our discussion just as soon as you can produce some of those notes. Do you think you could have them available next week, perhaps on Thursday?'

  'I'm sure that can be arranged.'

  'I'll ask Mr Bradley to bring you to somewhere more congenial than these rather depressing surroundings.' He glanced around the prison governor's austere office as he wound the ribbon neatly around the rolled-up chart, pausing only to say in a quiet, confidential voice, 'Mr Lynch, I would be grateful if you talked to no one about my visit here today.'

  'As you wish,' Hector assured him, though he was wondering why a lawyer like Brice knew such a complicated way to tie the ribbon. Either Brice was a fly-fisherman or he had seagoing experience.

  By Thursday, when Bradley came to collect him, Hector had assembled the material Brice had requested. Dan had brought the bamboo tube containing the notes and sketches, and Ringrose had lent his journals from the South Sea. After Hector introduced Dan to the marshal, the three of them set off on foot into Southwark's tangle of alleyways. An overcast grey sky threatened yet another day of blustery showers as they joined the slow-moving mass of pedestrians, carts and carriages using London Bridge to cross the river. On the far side they turned right into a street lined with tall commercial buildings. After about a quarter mile they came to a shop front over which hung a trade sign showing an outline map of Britain and Ireland. Here Bradley led them down a narrow passageway and then up a flight of outside stairs to a large first-floor room at the rear of the building. Several windows looked out across London Pool and its constant activity of wherries and lighters attending to the needs of the anchored shipping. Beside a broad table littered with drawing instruments, Brice was waiting. With him was a stooped, rather bookish individual wearing a pair of spectacles.

  The lawyer came quickly to the point. 'Mr Lynch, please show to Mr Hack your material from the South Sea.'

  From his bamboo tube Hector slid the page copied from Captain Lopez's notes which he and Dan had consulted as they tried to decide where Trinity had so nearly been wrecked. The paper was creased and stained, and there were scuff marks where they had laid it out on the rock many months ago. Hack walked over to the window to examine their handiwork in the light. Beyond him the surface of the Thames suddenly flecked with white as a gust of wind riffled the water. A moment later came the sound of raindrops spattering against the window glass.

  'What do you make of it, Mr Hack?' Brice was asking.

  There was a long pause. 'Very interesting. The entrance to the Fretum Magellanicum agrees with Mr Jansson's depiction in his atlas, but here it is in greater detail.'

  'Would such information help a navigator attempting the Strait?'

  'Most certainly.'

  'This provides extra detail,' said Hector holding out Ringrose's journal.

  Hack took it from him and began to turn the pages slowly and deliberately until he came to Ringrose's sketch of the anchorage where they had mended Trinity?, rudder. Several moments passed before he looked up and said, 'If I had time to correlate the details in this journal with the page of navigation notes, I would be hopeful of providing a chart for this section of the coast.'

  Earlier Hector had thought that Hack might be a sea captain. Now he knew that Hack was a professional cartographer.

  Brice glanced at the bamboo tube Hector was holding. 'Mr Lynch, you say that you have other pages of navigation notes. Who made them?'

  'The captain of the Santo Rosario. He was a very experienced mariner, and conscientious. Besides making his own observations, he compiled information from other captains, going back many years. There are details of anchorages and navigation dangers and port facilities.'

  Brice picked up a pair of compasses from the mapmaker's table an
d began fiddling with them, opening and closing them as he considered Hector's statement. 'Mr Lynch, the Spanish ambassador, Senor Ronquillo, is pressing to have your case decided by the Court. He has personally intervened with His

  Majesty who has agreed to his demand. I have an offer to make to you.'

  'What do you have in mind?' Hector asked.

  'If you agree to work with Mr Hack, correlating your notes with the general maps of the South Sea coast, I am willing to represent you in any action brought against you by the ambassador. I will ensure that you receive a fair hearing.'

  Hector looked Brice in the eye. He was reassured by that same gleam of penetrating intelligence that he had noted on their first encounter. He decided that he had nothing to lose by trusting the attorney.

  'If I'm to work on the maps, I'll need Dan to help me.'

  'Of course. That will be easy. There is no mention of him or your other companions on the watch list we received from the Caribees.'

  Brice spoke to the mapmaker. 'Mr Hack, I suggest that Mr Lynch and his colleague Dan spend some time with your staff. Not here at your official premises, but somewhere in the close vicinity.'

  Brice gazed out of the window, thinking aloud. 'Of course the Spaniards are aware that we must have acquired some knowledge of the Peruvian coast. But as yet they don't know how much.'

  'We also found a folder of more general charts aboard the Santo Rosario. They cover the coast all the way from California to the Cape and the Land of Fire,' Hector said.

  'And where is this folder now?'

  'It was given to Captain Sharpe.'

  'Then we will find Captain Sharpe and get it. Our sources tell us that Captain Sharpe has reached London and is staying in lodgings in Stepney,' said Brice. He seemed remarkably well informed. The lawyer looked across at the marshal who had been standing patiently near the door. 'Mr Bradley, do you have with you the watch list?'

  Bradley handed him the document, and Brice took a pen and struck out a name.

  'It would seem sensible that I remove Mr Ringrose's name from the list of Gaol Delivery.'

  'Why's that?' Hector dared to ask.

  'Because Mr Ringrose will be your unwitting ally. With his help I'm sure that Mr Hack here can produce a South Sea atlas which will satisfy and distract the king. The basis of that atlas will be the folder of maps now in the possession of Captain Sharpe. The new atlas will be a work of art. It will be beautiful but of little practical use to navigators, and serve the dual purpose of reassuring the Spanish ambassador that we have learned little of real value. Meanwhile the more detailed version - your prime derotero as we may call it - will be lodged with the Admiralty against the time when it might come in useful.'

  Brice's expression became very serious. 'Lynch, the Spanish ambassador remains most insistent that you are put on trial for piracy. I gather his people have been working hard to prepare evidence to place before the Court.'

  Hector was taken aback. 'But I thought the Court of Admiralty was to oversee the gathering of evidence?'

  Brice allowed himself a weary grimace. 'The ambassador has friends in high places, and permission has been granted for his legal counsellor to question you and prepare witness statements.'

  'When is this to happen?'

  'In three days' time marshal Bradley must bring you to the ambassador's residence where you will be interviewed. I have arranged that I will be present at the meeting and, as promised, I will do my best for you. But please bear in mind that officially we have never met, and that the outcome of the questioning will decide your future.'

  Wild House, the Spanish ambassador's mansion near Lincoln's Inn Fields, was a building designed to impress the visitor. Hector was intimidated by the imposing facade, its array of glittering windows separated by tall ornamental pilasters, and set off with a balustraded parapet which ran the full width of the building. Wild House was screened from public view by a tall brick wall and Hector had the sense of entering a secluded, private world as marshal Bradley escorted him across the broad gravel forecourt. A major domo opened the ornate double front doors and escorted the two visitors across a tiled entrance hall under a cupola decorated with scenes from classical mythology. Beyond it a long corridor, hung with tapestries, led to the rear of the house. There, without a word, the major domo indicated that Bradley was to wait in the corridor while he ushered Hector into what was evidently a private library. Most of the wall space was taken up with shelves of books, and the only light came in through a leaded window looking out on a small garden. A log fire was burning in a large grate to keep out the chill.

  Involuntarily, Hector was reminded of his examination by the Alcalde of Paita. The furniture had been arranged in much the same manner. At a table, seated with his back to the window, was Brice, now wearing a lawyer's sombre black suit with a white tab collar. He glanced briefly at Hector, as if he had never seen him before, and then looked down and began to arrange the papers on the table before him with the same neat gestures that Hector recognised from the fiscal in Paita. It set him wondering if all lawyers were alike, with identical mannerisms and the same circumspect outward show. Next to Brice a secretary was ready to take notes, and at a separate desk a few paces away sat a man dressed with great elegance in a sleeveless jacket embroidered with silver thread over a white satin shirt. A glimpse of his feet beneath the table revealed that he was wearing fine chamois leather shoes. Hector supposed that he was an embassy counsellor who was to conduct the cross-examination.

  'The purpose of this meeting is to establish whether you should face a charge of murder and piracy,' began Brice. 'Senor Adrian,' the counsellor gave a slight inclination of his head, 'is to present the evidence. The proceedings will be conducted in English as far as practicable.'

  Hector was not invited to sit so he remained standing, feeling the thick carpet beneath his feet. Brice turned towards the Spaniard. 'Perhaps we may begin?'

  The counsellor picked up a paper from his desk, cleared his throat and in strongly accented English began to read aloud. After a few sentences it was clear that he intended to deliver a lengthy preamble to the case. Brice held up his hand to stop him.

  'Senor Adrian, from what I have already seen of the documents, the crux of what we have to decide today concerns the capture of the ship named Santo Rosario off the coast of Peru. Perhaps we can proceed directly to that event.'

  With an exasperated look the counsellor searched through his pile of documents until he found the one he wanted, then once again he began to read aloud. He described the events of that day: the slow approach of Trinity, the moment when Captain Lopez had grown suspicious, the firing of the first cannon shot, the musketry that followed. As he listened, Hector slowly became aware that he had heard the contents before. It was, word for word, the same deposition that Hector had heard at Paita, read out to Maria. Grudgingly he had to admire the thoroughness of Spanish bureaucracy. Somehow the colonial officials in Peru had managed to supply the document from half a world away.

  Senor Adrian came to the end of his recitation, and Brice turned his attention to Hector.

  'Were you present during these events?'

  Hector felt trapped. Faced with such a precise and accurate account of what had happened, he could see no way of saving himself except to tell an outright lie and pit his word against Maria's testimony. Yet he knew that to contradict her sworn statement was a betrayal of what he felt about her, her honesty and her courage. He hesitated before answering, and when the words finally came out, there was a catch in his voice as he uttered the falsehood.

  'I know nothing of the events you describe. I was aboard Trinity early in her voyage and only for a few weeks.'

  The Spanish counsellor looked at him with open disbelief. 'All the accounts we have from Peru speak of a young man, of your age and description, who acted as interpreter and negotiator. You - alone of all the pirates — were seen face to face by our officials.'

  'You'll have to prove that,' intervened Brice.


  'I will, beyond all doubt,' snapped the counsellor. Turning to the secretary he said, 'Summon our first witness.'

  The secretary rose from his chair and, crossing the library, left by a far door. He returned a few moments later. Behind him walked Coxon.

  Hector suppressed a gasp of surprise. The last time he had seen Coxon had been at Panama on the evening before the buccaneer captain departed to return to the Caribbean. Then Coxon had been carrying plunder looted from the Spanish. Now he was serving them. Hector wondered how the buccaneer had managed to convince the Spaniards of his new allegiance, and at the same time maintain his links as an informant for Morgan. Whatever Coxon had arranged, he was clearly prospering. He was expensively dressed in a dark blue coat worn over a fashionably long waistcoat whose sleeves had been turned back to show his ruffled lace shirt-cuffs. Coxon had also put on weight. He was chubbier than before, there was even more grey in his reddish hair, and he was beginning to go bald. Hector enjoyed an instant of satisfaction from observing that Coxon had powdered his face and neck thickly in an unsuccessful attempt to hide the blotches and sores on his skin. Hector hoped that the damage to Coxon's complexion was permanent and owed something to the Kuna salve. Coxon gave him a malicious glance, full of quiet triumph, before turning to face the Spanish counsellor.

  'Your name is Captain John Coxon?'

  'Yes.'

  'And you took part in the assault on His Catholic Majesty's possessions in the Americas two years ago?'

  'Only briefly. I had been led to believe that we were campaigning against the heathen savages of the area, and they had been troubling the civilised settlers. As soon as I realised the truth, I withdrew my men.'

  Hector was stunned. Involuntarily he thought of the phrase his shipmates used to describe a turncoat. He 'turned cat in the pan'. Hector stole a glance towards Brice. The lawyer's face was expressionless. Hector had a worrying feeling that Coxon's presence had also taken Brice by surprise.

  'Do you recognise this person standing here?' asked the embassy counsellor.