by Smith, Skye
Daniel leaped onto the quay and walked with Robert in search of answers. Each was carrying both a dragon and a pistol under his belt for there was no telling the reaction of so many hungry folk to the arrival of strangers. They needed only to walk as the end of the quay and the coco roof under which a port officer was sleeping in a hammock. By the ragged look of the officer, he would be willing to tell them anything for a groat and a swig of Genever.
"Oh there's supplies aplenty for arriving ships,” the officer said, nodding as he spoke. "Supplies aplenty for a price."
"That's hard to believe,” Robert replied, "when the arrival of our small ship brought so many desperate-looking folk to the quayside."
"Thieves and beggars all of 'em,” the officer told them. "Lookin' fer handouts, rather than taking the work that is offered on the plantations."
"Tell another one,” a sturdy-looking seaman said from the deep shadow caused by the tropical sun. "This island has the governor from hell. Some say he is incompetent, others say he is corrupt, others say he is greedy. I say he is all three and worse, for he is a vicious bugger. Sail away from here, brothers, and take on victuals somewhere else."
"Shush!" the officer hissed at the man, "else I'll have you whipped."
Daniel went and stood near the shadowy figure, who was dressed well enough and did not have a look of hunger to him. "Can I buy you a pint? Is there an alehouse nearby?" Both were redundant questions of a seaman in an English port. "My name is Daniel, and my captain is Robert."
"Bernie,” the man replied and then motioned them to follow him. There was an alehouse just beyond the quay and he walked towards it. "This island has had the same governor for a decade, Henry Hawley, and a worse governor you couldn't imagine." He stepped around and otherwise ignored the hungry-looking folk with their hands out, who were sitting in the dust in the shade of a row of palm trees.
"Every time a colony fails in Guyana or on any of these islands, the folk migrate to Barbados. Hawley denies them settlements on this island, and won't allow them to grow food for themselves. The only planting done on this island is by his officially sanctioned plantations, and most of that is in sugar or tobacco. It means that instead of this island being bountiful, it can't feed itself."
They ducked under a fringe of palm leaves of a large shade roof and then sat at a bench with a view of the port and ordered a jug. "But this is a big island,” Robert stated the obvious, "there should be lots of food, even if it is just fish and cocos."
"Oh aye, with a different governor this island would thrive, but Hawley keeps the folk just hungry enough to sign themselves into slavery on the plantations. The result is grand profits for the plantations and the merchants, and sod all for anyone else."
"So why do you stay here?" Daniel asked. "Why not leave before you look like the rest of these poor souls?"
"Because there is a change coming. The two English lords who have been feuding over the control of Barbados for a decade are now both dead, and the king has met the complaints about Hawley by sending out a new governor by the name of Huncks. Hawley threatened his life and saw him off, of course, but he will be back soon enough, and the next time with the navy."
"But surely the local court must stand with the newly-appointed governor,” Robert pointed out.
"Hah, what, here in Barbados? If you made it illegal for whoremasters to be members of the local court, the court bench would be empty. Nay, Huncks will be back and then things will change. I can wait. This will be a good place to live once Hawley and his henchmen are deposed. Meanwhile, I suggest you just sail away. Santa Lucia is close enough and it has water, cocos and fresh fish."
"But we just came from there. We were afraid to land because of the Kalinago natives. We hear they are fierce and worse, they are cannibals."
"The Kalinago are willing to trade, so long as you don't try to settle,” Bernie told them. "They learned a hard lesson up Saint Kitts way about a dozen years ago, so now they don't allow any settling on any of their islands."
"What lesson?"
"You've never heard of the Bloody River massacre? One night the English and French settlers on Saint Kitts snuck up on the Kalinago town during a holy festival and they slaughtered everyone. Thousands of them. Blood filled their holy river, which is why they now call it Bloody River. The only ones saved were the pretty girls, and you'll know the why of that without me speaking of it."
"And ever since the Kalinagos have not allowed settlers on their islands,” Daniel snorted sarcastically. "I wonder why not?"
"So is there still an English colony on Saint Kitts?" Robert asked.
"Aye, and a thriving one. The Jeaffreson brothers see to that. They rule the place on behalf of Tom Warner. Old Tom was wounded at Bloody River, and the wound agues him."
"I've heard enough, Danny,” Robert motioned his friend to drink up. "Let's sail back to Santa Lucia for some coconuts and then press on to Saint Kitts." His finger pushed a half of a Spanish eight towards Bernie. "Thank yee for your wisdom."
* * * * *
After a day spent taking on water, fresh fish, and coconuts on Santa Lucia, the Swift spent three days sailing north through the chain of the Windward Islands. They circled some of them, but did not land at any others. These were rugged islands, like a chain of mountains sticking up through the sea, and there were many with the telltale cone shape of volcanoes. Each of the islands had at least one good harbour, but each harbour already had a village, and judging by the number of large dugout canoes, they were Kalinago villages. The only good thing that could be said about these native villages is that they became smaller and had far fewer war canoes the further they sailed north.
The Swift anchored at the island of Montserrat by accident, or rather, by misunderstanding. The charts and the rudder logs all described Saint Kitts island as two small islands separated by a channel. As they approached Kitts from the south, they mistook Montserrat for one of the two islands. It was only after they stepped ashore at a poor port that they learned that they had landed at the village of Plymouth on the island of Montserrat.
Even as they reported to the port officer, they knew that they would not tarry long in this forlorn-looking village. It had a strange feel. For one thing, the very earth beneath their feet occasionally shook. The harbour master explained that there was a volcano on the island, but that it had been some time since it last blew its top, not since 1630. Apparently the locals treated the little shakes as a good sign, for the dangerous big shakes were always preceded by weeks where the ground was still.
All of the Swift's passengers and most of the crew wanted the shore leave they had not been allowed in Barbados or Santa Lucia. Robert agreed, for as forlorn and strange as it was, Plymouth was a delightful place when compared to weeks and weeks of empty sea horizons, and smaller and far safer than the evil Bridgetown in Barbados.
For the first time in weeks the women donned their Puritan garb, and suffered the sweating heat in the interests of modesty. The Irish girls followed their lead, not so much from modesty, but in the interests of keeping the peace with the other women. The arrival of so many women who were not already someone's chattels, caused a stir amongst the local men. It was the six Irish girls who were quickly picked out as being available, and it was the many calls from the local men which eventually caused problems.
No matter how the crew tried to protect the girls from the Irish men of Plymouth, they would not go away. Most folk in this colony were Irish Catholic men, who had fled from Kitts out of fear for their lives. Apparently the English settlers of Kitts not only hated Papists but also hated the Irish. Most of these men were no longer slaves, not even bond slaves. Instead they considered themselves serfs to an English aristocrat who lived in Ireland but who claimed to be the feudal lord of this island. As serfs rather than slaves, these men could take wives to bear them freeborn children.
When it became obvious that the Swift would not be allowed to take these six Irish lasses away from these shores, a moot of el
ders was elected to decide what was to be done. The moot was mostly comprised of the eldest women of the passengers, with Robert as the moot spokesman. Daniel was glad he had refused the position, for the moot quickly became nothing more than a matchmaking service.
The Irish men well understood the workings of a moot court, as such courts were part of their culture as much as they were part of the Brownist culture. All those who wished to petition for a wife came forward to swear to bear no false witness, and then made their personal case respectfully to both the moot and to the six lasses. The Swift's departure was delayed a full day because of the number of petitioning men, but the result was that the lasses themselves chose their husbands. After the swearing of six betrothals, the Swift's departure was delayed yet another day because six weddings on one night was reason enough for the entire population of the island to celebrate.
That being said, it was a strange celebration because no strong drink was allowed on Montserrat. This was one of the articles of the colony and a good one, for it limited the fights that were a normal part of most ports. There was no rum, no whiskey, no wine, and nothing stronger than watered down ale. The wedding vows were taken under the stars with the rumbling Soufriere volcano as a backdrop, because there was no church on the island. Churches were also forbidden according to the articles, and this was also a good thing that limited the fights.
With just these two articles, the Irish colonists of Montserrat had curbed the violence that had engulfed Ireland for centuries. It was Robert who told Daniel that in denying the building of churches, these Irish Catholics were on the verge of becoming Puritans, because a basic belief of Puritan cults was that churches and the priesthoods were not necessary to religion. Daniel didn't know if this were an intellectual jest or not, so he made no comment and instead went to join the bridal dance.
* * * * *
The French had settled at each end of Saint Kitts island, while the English had settled in the middle at the port of Middle. Middle was a sleepy place where all European languages seemed to be in use, and often at the same time. The English were in charge of the island, not the French, for England had a peace treaty with Spain. Because of this treaty, privateers were allowed to use the port but for only a day at a time. As on Montserrat, there was a noticeable shortage of women in the town. There was also a shortage of black slaves on the island because everyone was clearing land for tobacco and sugar plantations.
There seemed to be a truce between the powerful interests who were trying to make profits in Kitts, and there even seemed even to be a truce between a Dutch and a Spanish ship that were both anchored at the port. The port master explained to them that the Spanish were being very polite this year because they had lost so many ships in the defeat of the Armada at the Battle of the Downs. In prior years, the Spanish fleet from Puerto Rico and Dominica had been quite active in hunting down privateers and settlements built without their permission.
The master also explained that in truth, the Spanish did not much care what happened to small islands such as Saint Kitts because they had the endless bounty of the Spanish Main-land and the Spanish Main-islands. The Dutch did not much care either, because they had the endless bounty of New Holland that sprawled across the north of Brazil. The Portuguese did not much care either, because since the loss of the Armada, they no longer had the ships to bother with the Caribe, so instead were focused on increasing their share of Brazil.
It was only the French and the English who were actively trying to colonize the smaller islands of the Caribe, because each of those kingdoms wanted a source of that most profitable of all harvests, sugar. Neither the French nor the English were being very successful. With the exception of Kitts and Barbados, the settlements on other islands had been abandoned, either because of disease or because of raids. And not just raids by the fierce Kalinago natives, but also raids by the Spanish fleet, or by privateers-cum-pirates.
It was soon obvious to all on the Swift that the port of Middle was-well used to ships arriving with folk in need of the comforts of shore leave. There were many inns and alehouses, and many touts on the dock and in dugout canoes offering all kinds of services. There were even holding pens with shade roofs for rent to hold any slaves who were in transit. Luckily there was also an agent of the Plymouth Company in the town, who was himself a Brownist, and therefore the Swift's passengers were offered the use of the Brownist meeting hall as a shelter while they were in Middle. With a watch left on the Swift, the rest formed a procession to find the hall.
Along the way a dozen sets of men offered to buy the women's bonds and actually began bidding against each other and waving purses to show how serious they were. The crew were forced to form a walking wall with their bodies to keep these touts from grabbing at the women. They had become quite attached to the women passengers during the voyage. In truth, only the lack of privacy on the small ship could account for not a single woman being newly pregnant. Here on this town street, the crew were as personally protective of them as if they were wives or sisters. Needless to say, the crew were not impressed by any of these men making offers, and warned the women that these offers were more likely to turn them into alehouse whores than wives.
The price of everything in Kitts was shocking, as almost everything had been brought from Europe by ship. Even the price of island-grown produce was high, because this small island was provisioning the many privateers that haunted the Caribe while searching for Spanish treasure ships. The women could not resist buying fresh food, but even so they bought no more than a day's worth at a time. Hopefully the islands further north from Kitts would have fresh food like fish and coconuts, and free for the harvesting.
On the third day ashore, Daniel rented a nag and went in search of Raphael's brother Solomon Lopes to deliver his letter. He had been expecting Solomon to live in a fine house, built with the profits from sugar, but instead he found him living in a coco hut in a village of coco huts. The huts were not that different from his clan's huts in Wellenhay, since the basic building materials in both cases were woven mats. The difference was that here the mats were made from woven coco leaves rather than woven reeds and sedge.
Solomon's hut had a large roof, but only half of the roof covered the actual hut that was closed to the wind and weather. The other half covered a deck that was open to today’s soft breeze. They sat on the shade deck and both faced out over the sloping fields of cane towards the west and the sparkle of the sea. Once Solomon had finished reading his brother's letter, he was pleased to sit and talk at length to the tall blonde Englishman.
They spoke in Dutch, the second language of both men. "Someday I will marry and build a fine house,” Solomon told him. "Until then I will reinvest all of the profits back into cane fields and slaves. As you can see we are still clearing land, but at least this season we have a large enough crop to keep my small mill busy."
Not a hundred paces away, men were cutting cane, and women were trimming the stalks of leaves and tying them in bundles so that other women could carry the bundles away balanced on their heads. "What I see is that you use black slaves for labour," Daniel observed, "and yet yours are not shackled or guarded. Why do they not just run away?"
"Run where? This is a small island. Their shackles are my words, my promise that if one of them makes trouble or runs away, that I will sell him to the English tobacco farms. That threat seems enough to keep them close to the farm."
"I don't understand. Either way they would be slaves. Why wouldn't they try to make a run for it? Are they all cowards?"
"Cowards, no, that is harsh. To understand you must pass judgement on the various types of masters who rule them, rather than the slaves. Spanish masters are conquistadors and rule through subjection and violence. Portuguese masters are breeders who corrupt their own half -breeds into ruling for them. French masters are arrogant and rule by right of God and the whip. Dutch masters are company men who rule only to show a large short-term profit, for their only way of bettering themselves is t
o be promoted to a better life. English masters have an endless supply of Irish slaves and therefore rule as if slaves were of little value."
"And you?" Daniel asked. "What kind of slave master are you?"
"We Hebrews have been slaves throughout history, so if God wills that we be the masters we try not to make waste. Waste is the most terrible of sins. The Christian church demands that I allow a slave to rest on Sunday. My own faith demands that I allow a slave to rest on the Sabbath. For the other five days, I expect a full day of hard work from a man. In return I allow him a wife and children, and good food, and I bring a physician whenever they are ill. A family holds a man better than any shackles.
If a man is not happy with his life here, then I will gladly sell him to the English tobacco farms where he will be separated from his family and be beaten and starved and die young, as the Irish slaves do. On Sundays I send my slaves to sit with the Irish slaves while the English priest fills them with the fear of God. In that way they can see for themselves how well the Irish slaves fare. I have not had a runner for a long time."
"If you made me your slave, I would not run,” Daniel said quietly. "I would slit your throat before the first sunrise."
"I would expect nothing less of you,” Solomon chuckled, "for you are a warrior. That is why I do not buy warriors to work my farm; I buy farmers."
"Your brother Raphael told me that you know much more about the Caribe islands than he does. You see, I am on a quest for my own clan. I search for a new island that we can colonize. An island similar to our own in the low wetlands of England, but one without harsh winters. One that is easy to defend, but large enough to sustain a few hundred herders and fishers. Out of the way, yet close enough to the trade routes so that we can trade. He said that you may be able to help me in this quest."
Solomon spoke slowly as he thought. "You say that your English island is in the wetlands. You must stay well clear of the wetlands of the Caribe. Their fresh water is too warm, so they are places of sickness. Instead, look for an island with a hill and therefore running fresh springs or cool wells." He pointed west towards the sea. "There are many small islands just there where I point, but all of these islands can be dangerous."
