But it was not so. The force of the shots had knocked him onto his back. Both had landed in his chest. There was not a mark on his face, but it was horrible to behold when I ventured to push back the leaves that obscured it. His mouth was open, making a dark hole in his face as if another shot had taken him there. His eyes were open, too, staring up into the cloudless sky.
I don’t know how long I stood there, but I don’t think it was very long. I had been deafened somewhat and was shaken into something of a stupor by what I’d done. I roused myself angrily. I was wasting time. I would need to go back to the horse, where the spare powder and bullets were in a saddlebag. Tom would have heard the commotion and be wondering what had happened. He was not too wounded to throw his knife, so I would need to be careful. But it was too late. Already Tom was emerging from his lair and I had no means of finishing him, while he held a pistol and a knife. He saw me, but before he could speak I rushed to give my story.
‘Oh, Tom! A terrible thing has happened.’
He looked at the pistols in my hands and then at my face. ‘Was it you who fired?’ he said. ‘What is amiss?’
I said the first thing that raced into my head. ‘It was my fault!’ I said. ‘I saw Rowan and went to meet him, but I stumbled, and both my pistols fired.’
‘You shot Rowan?’ Consternation filled his face for he had relied on his care.
‘It was terrible,’ I said. ‘And he is quite dead.’
‘Where is he?’
‘Just here,’ I said, indicating the place.
Tom came towards me with his pistol lowered and his knife loose in his hand. I wondered if I should try to snatch the pistol, but Tom was no fool. He would be alert for any treachery, as are most desperate men. He looked at Rowan and then at me.
‘So now I am a certain dead man,’ he said. ‘For my wound will not heal and I cannot survive without him.’
‘I am heartily sorry,’ I said, and it was no less than the truth.
‘It is a bitter thing that the land he hated living on has contributed to his death,’ said Tom sourly.
‘You are right,’ I said, having a sudden idea. ‘But here we are close to the cliff edge. I feel sure he would rather choose a watery resting place than a shallow grave. Will you help me return him to the sea?’
Tom stuck the knife in his belt but kept the pistol in his hand. ‘Very well,’ was all he said.
I put down my spent pistols and together we dragged Rowan towards the cliff, though I had the greater part of it. It wasn’t simply that Tom had little strength to help me. I could tell he doubted my explanation of Rowan’s death and so kept himself out of my reach. At length, when we were almost at the cliff edge, he let go of Rowan’s arm and moved further off. He sat on a rock, watching me struggle, his pistol still in his hand. It was horrible work, dragging Rowan’s lifeless body. His head jounced through the undergrowth, as if he was engaged in some silent but lively conversation. It had been hard enough with Tom’s slight help, but now it was almost too much for me. Then, at the edge of the cliff, his shoulder got stuck on some hidden obstacle. After trying without success to shift his corpse or the rock that proved to be in the way I stopped to take my breath. I hoped Tom would take pity on me and help again, but he sat on, watching me carefully. Although I had indeed killed Rowan by accident, that hadn’t cancelled my intention to see both men dead and I knew Tom had grave suspicions. He and Rowan must have discussed my good fortune and the risk they posed for me.
I raised my arms from my sides and looked hard at him. ‘I know your shoulder pains you, Tom, but will you not help me to move Rowan away from this rock? I cannot bear to leave him lying here, and you have your pistol, do you not, while you can see mine have been discharged and lie on the ground?’
He got up and approached carefully. ‘I know I am a danger to you while I live,’ he replied. ‘But you must know that I would not willingly betray you.’
‘Rowan’s death was an accident,’ I said in reply. I think he could hear the truth of it in my voice. He got up and with his good hand helped me pull the body away from the rock. Now we were right at the edge. All we needed to do was to roll the body over and Rowan would be gone.
It was then I took my chance and made a grab for Tom’s pistol. We grappled together, he and I, feet sliding on the loose stones that made the top of the cliff. For an instant I thought he had me over. My left foot went from me and could find nothing but air below it. In desperation I clung to him. We hovered there, in balance between life and death until, being the stronger, I pushed him back and regained my footing. At the same time, I had my hand on his pistol. I wrenched it from him, but it slipped from me and fell. It went over the cliff, far away from us both, and landed with a silent splash in the sea. We stood at the high cliff’s edge, with Rowan’s body beside us. Tom had his knife in his hand and I was still unarmed. More than that, I had squandered my small advantage of surprise. He now knew for certain that I intended him harm and so would need to kill me in self-defence. Neither of us spoke. Only our panting breaths betrayed our recent tussle.
Without warning he turned, took several paces away from the cliff and threw his knife. It buried itself in my upper arm. I screamed in pain and dropped to my knees. Tom glared at me.
‘Now we are equal,’ he said. ‘Though I am more of a man than you will ever be.’
His words cut me as sharply as his knife. I had no words for him, thinking only if I could run before he could wrestle with me again. I felt faint and his slender knife was still in my arm. I had never shrunk from removing such things from others but found it a different matter now. While I steeled myself to remove the blade he was already on me. Before I could react, he had grabbed its handle and yanked it from me. To my shame I screamed again, feeling a stream of hot blood issuing from the wound. I struggled not to faint, while he stood back, watching me.
I was now completely at his mercy. My stupidity had altered me from one with all the advantages to none. There was no point in begging for my life, but I couldn’t help looking up to him in supplication. All I saw was contempt.
I cowered with my eyes screwed up, waiting for the blow that would end my life, but it did not come. He did not engage, nor did he say anything to me. I forced myself to open my eyes and saw his bare feet in front of me, the flesh horny, each toenail scuffed and broken, the result of barefoot years at sea. Still he remained silent and I could not resist raising my gaze again to his face. His body was alert, ready to repel me, but his eyes looked far away. At last he reached down and took hold of Rowan’s arm once more. He stepped lightly over him and off the cliff.
He fell all the way in silence, but Rowan’s body rolled and grated on the stones as Tom’s weight pulled it after him. I heard a faint double splash, as both bodies hit the water.
I had difficulty mounting my horse. The pain in my arm was very bad, but it was the first time I had taken such an injury, so I had nothing to compare it with. When I got home I called for oil and honey, and tended to my arm. I would not speak to Marie or allow her to minister to me. I knew well that she wished to know what had happened, but I would not oblige her. I would speak of it to no one. I could not. I prepared the sleeping draught I had kept for her, took it myself and went to bed.
29
More than the cold steel of Black Tom’s blade had entered my body. In time, only a small scar was visible, but the wound to my pride and self-esteem was very great. I had spoken to my wife when I should have deliberated alone. I had bungled the murders, with no honour, and had heard Tom’s last terrible words, which had seared themselves into my soul. I could not allow that I was half the man of Tom, a common pirate, yet I feared I was. A speechless, impotent fury entered me that left even Marie atremble. I almost wished to emulate Tom’s final action to prove to myself that I could die just as well as he. Several times I stood on the spot but knew I could not do it. I tried to believe him cowardly, but knew he was the opposite.
With no word to anyone, I visited Mr
Chepstow, desiring to rid myself of all the wealth I had got when on the Revenge. Gold is gold, wherever it comes from. It has no morality, but I suffered a violent distaste for the coin I had won while on board and told Mr Chepstow so.
‘I wondered … if it might pay for a school …’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘I see you are determined to risk your liberty by entering Port Royal.’
‘Or do some other philanthropic deed …’
He cleared his throat and ran his fingers along his desk, as if he was feeling for a tumour. ‘As it happens, I think you will be reasonably safe here now. There have been so many hangings that I cannot imagine any are left to denounce you. My advice though would be not to make free with your money before you are integrated into society. You would draw attention to yourself, which would not be wise. I suggest you start quietly, humbly. There is a suitable house for sale nearby. Install yourself there and offer your services as a medical man. Perhaps allow your wife to take care of things on the plantation? Ballam tells me she is capable.’
I stared at Chepstow, but then recollected that Ballam was his man. Well, if Ballam could stand Marie’s tantrums he was welcome to them. If Ballam had told my lawyer of Marie’s knowledge of plantation life he would also have told him about our arguments. I would be surprised if the house slaves did not report to him, too, through Ballam. He had, after all, supplied the slaves for our use. I would, I decided, do as my lawyer advised, but would be careful to buy my own slaves. I wanted no more spying, if spying there had been.
‘I will take time to look about for a house,’ I said to Chepstow.
It was a good decision. Hurling myself with all my energy into a new enterprise stopped me from dwelling so much on myself. Port Royal was much in need of another physician and the welcome society gave me was a soothing balm. With much effort and determination, I succeeded in banishing almost all thoughts of the plantation, my wife and that terrible day at the cliff.
Five months later, I held in my arms my infant son. To my shame, that my wife had been safely delivered was of little interest, although I tried to be glad for her. Although it had not been her fault that I had confided in her about Rowan and Tom, and in spite of her giving me a son, I found I could not reconcile myself to her. Perhaps we could be friends or at least polite acquaintances, but it seemed neither of us wished for more.
I had many invitations to toast the health of my infant son. What was more, my recent success in operating on a merchant’s stones made my reputation. Mr Gerard’s full recovery was remarkable, and he became one of my greatest advocates. Receipts from the plantation had dropped a little, but I cared little for the fluctuations of business. My true profession was bringing me all I needed in the way of gold, friends and social regard. I was much relieved to live a steadier life.
One afternoon, I was called to good Mr Gerard for his wife, who suffered from debilitating headaches. After her consultation she took to teasing me about my son.
‘I don’t believe you have either a wife or son!’ she said. ‘Neither having been seen. I would love to dandle him on my knee, my own daughter being well past the age when she would tolerate such behaviour.’
We all laughed, for Alice was a beautiful but wilful girl, fifteen years old.
When they had gone, I recalled that it had been almost a month since I had seen my boy. I decided to ride up to the plantation and spend a few hours there. It was a beautiful afternoon. As I rode out of the town, the breeze enlivened me. It was good to be away from the noise, bustle and stink of the town for a while. The wind brought memories of my first days on board ship and the kindness shown to me by Ptolemy. I thought how pleased he would have been to see me so well-set-up in my profession. As I arrived at the house I was wishing that both he and my father had lived to see my son.
I saw Christophe straight away. He was outside with his nurse, sitting on a rug in the shade. I was very pleased to see that he had learnt to sit up unaided and went to him immediately, scooping him up into my arms. For a few moments he seemed as if he might cry, but then he reached out and caught hold of the moustache I had recently grown. I gently took his hand away, for his grip was causing me some discomfort, and smiled at him. He regarded me seriously but did not protest. I entered the house with him in search of Marie, wanting to politely praise her for my son’s excellent condition. I did not call out to her because she often liked to rest during the hot afternoons. Quietly, I opened her door. She was indeed abed. I do not know how I could have missed the truth before my eyes, but I did. I took several steps into the room before what I saw entered my mind. Even then, concerned not to frighten the infant in my arms I spoke no words, but stood stupefied for several seconds. It was Christophe’s crowing that alerted his mother, rather than my rage.
She must have thought his nurse had brought him to her. Shameless, she sat up, naked in her bed, stretching out her arms to take him. Seeing me, she hastened to cover herself – from me, her husband! But it was not her false modesty that angered me. It was the body lying next to hers. If I had been carrying my pistols I would have shot him as he lay. Instead, I pulled the covers from him. It gave me no pleasure to see him cowering. I simply wished undone what I knew I would never be able to forget: Ballam.
‘Get out of my house and off my land. If you return I shall kill you.’
I kept my voice low, but even so, my son began to cry. I waited, hushing Christophe, while Ballam gathered his clothes, and then I kicked the overseer out of the room. He stumbled and fell so I kicked him again. There was no pleasure in it. Not then. Later, I was pleased I had shown him just a little of the violence of which I was capable.
Marie huddled in bed, her face as pale as I had ever seen it. I said nothing to her but took the child back to his nurse. When I returned, Marie was dressing.
‘Do you lie naked for your paramour and dress when I am here?’ I threw her back upon the bed and took my husband’s rights. She must have expected a whipping, but my anger had become a passion which was a furious mimic of our honeycomb days and nights. When eventually I was spent, I forced myself to rise from her stinking bed. I washed myself and went out upon the porch. Night had fallen and the air become cooler. I called for wine and tobacco. Slowly, the wine stilled my blood. I lay back in my chair and watched the smoke curl up from my pipe. The stars rocked to and fro in the sky and my senses swam with the wine. All was peaceful, except for my heart. I must think what to do. I should rise and inform the slaves who guarded the house and garden that Ballam was to be repelled if he tried to re-enter. Ballam no doubt had thought he was safe, being Chepstow’s man and his mistress’s lover. As for Marie, I had no words. I would be a laughing stock. I should think what to do. Instead, I let my pipe fall upon the ground and allowed my eyes to close.
When I woke the night was almost over. I rose stiffly and stretched. Going first to my son’s room I woke his nurse and instructed her to pack their things. I then went to my wife’s room. She had put a chair to the door, but it was no defence against me. She was fully dressed and I doubted she had slept. A lamp was lighted by her bed and she was sitting up. She shrank from me as I entered, but I was not there to do her violence.
‘You will stay here and take Ballam’s place. I expect to see this plantation increase its profits since I suspect he has been taking more than you from my estate.’
She stared at me, her eyes glistening.
‘If you show yourself assiduous and repentant, in good time I will allow you to come to my house where you may see your son again. But if you at any time stray from behaving properly as my wife in society, I will put you aside and you will never see your child again.’
‘No …’ Her tears began to fall, but I would not acknowledge them.
‘Do you understand?’
She nodded meekly. ‘How long must I …?’
‘That is for me to decide.’ I do not say that my heart softened, but she had been nursing our son and something of her distress made me a little less cold. ‘
I will appoint a new overseer when I can and bring you to Christophe when I am persuaded that you will not shame me again. I wish to have the accounts. I will take them for Chepstow to examine. Has Ballam been cheating me of my profits?’
Her reply came as a whisper. ‘I truly do not know.’
‘Very well. Now go and fetch the accounts, and then make your farewells to the child.’ At that, her tears fell faster, and a sob came from her beautiful, treacherous throat.
Soon after daybreak I took him and rode away. As soon as I was home, I called to Mollie, my personal slave. She showed great delight in meeting Christophe and they were soon good friends. I asked her how she did, and she told me the sickness she had felt for the past week was much improved. She was forward enough to kiss the baby and also me, which did a lot to restore my good mood.
When I called at Chepstow’s the following day, I tossed the accounts onto his desk.
‘I want Ballam banished from the island or hanged.’
Chepstow looked up in alarm. ‘What has he done?’
‘What has he not done? He is lucky I did not kill him,’ I said. ‘I want you to go through the accounts. What concerns you are his financial dealings. He has betrayed your trust, which reflects badly on you, as you endorsed him. I want him not just off my plantation, but also off this island. If he can hang or be branded a thief, all the better.’
The Outrageous Fortune of Abel Morgan Page 27
