by Tim Severin
Gonzalez, the port official, blinked and stepped back. Maria strode past him, carefully set down the toddler on the ground, threw her arms around Hector and hugged him. Releasing her embrace she turned to face her audience and announced firmly, ‘It’s as he says: he’s come to Santa Cruz to find his wife.’
In the stunned silence that followed, Hector stood transfixed. The breath seemed to have gone from his lungs. Then, feeling lightheaded and slightly dazed, he reached out and took Maria back into his arms. She leaned her head forward against his chest for a long moment, and he felt her warmth and the beating of her heart. He held her against him until, very gently, she pushed herself away from him, leaned down and picked up the toddler. Holding up the child in front of him, she said quietly, ‘Isabel, meet your father.’
Hector found himself gazing into huge, dark eyes that regarded him gravely. His daughter had a tiny pert nose, smooth and flawless skin and her mother’s trick of pausing for a moment while making up her mind. After several heartbeats the toddler treated him to a delighted smile, unhurried and genuine.
‘I named her after my own grandmother,’ Maria’s voice came to him through a mist of happiness. ‘I hope you approve.’
Hector was still at a loss for words. He had imagined this moment for so long, and feared that he was deluding himself. Yet the reality matched the dream. This was a moment in his life that he would never forget.
Someone cleared his throat noisily, and Hector looked up to see that the port official, Gonzalez, was flustered. His colleagues were looking on, slightly amused and waiting to see how he would handle the unexpected situation. ‘Under the circumstances, Senhor . . .’ began the official.
‘Lynch, Hector Lynch,’ Hector told him.
‘Under the circumstances, Senhor Lynch, you are welcome in Santa Cruz. We can regularize your documents later, when you have decided on how long you intend to stay.’
All of a sudden, Hector’s delight at seeing Maria again was quenched by the bleak thought of what he had to explain to her.
‘Thank you,’ he said to the official. ‘My wife and I would appreciate time together.’
With a few curious glances in their direction, the reception committee began to disperse.
Hector turned to the boatman. ‘I’ll need you to take me back out to the ship later, and will pay you then.’
He could not fail to notice the slight frown that passed across Maria’s face as she overheard these words, and knew he had to tell her the truth as quickly as possible.
‘Is there somewhere we can talk privately?’ he asked her.
Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and then after the slightest pause, she said softly, ‘Why don’t we go back to my cousins’ house, where I’ve been living. We can talk on the way.’
Side by side, they began to walk away from the landing slip. Between them little Isabel took unsteady steps, keeping balance by clutching a finger on the hand of each of her parents. The toddler’s tight grip thrilled Hector. It made him feel even closer to Maria.
‘How did you know to come down to the landing place?’ he asked.
She gave him a sideways look, a slight smile on her lips. ‘A watchman at one of the mills up behind the town reported an unknown ship making for the roadstead. Santa Cruz is a small place and word spread. Someone said that the vessel looked like an Indiaman. That’s unusual. So I had this feeling that you might be aboard, or it carried a message for me. I decided to come down to the harbour.’
Hector allowed a long interval to pass while he thought how he might approach what he had to say. He waited until little Isabel had grown tired of walking, and Maria had picked her up. She placed the little girl on her hip, on the side away from him, so they could walk side by side, their shoulders occasionally brushing against one another. It created an intimacy between them, yet still he struggled to broach the subject of his past, and their future.
She seemed to appreciate his difficulty, and began to talk, lightly and easily. ‘My cousins have been very kind. They are good people, and made me feel at home,’ her voice dropped to hardly more than a whisper, ‘but it has been such a long time.’
‘Did you get my letter?’ he asked. ‘The one I wrote from St Mary’s in Madagascar?’
She nodded.
‘I tried several times to write after that, but it was never possible to know if you would get my letter.’ He stopped, reluctant to sound as if he was making excuses.
She waited for him to go on, and Hector sensed that she already knew what he was about to say.
‘When Jacques and I reached Madagascar, we couldn’t find anyone to tell us exactly how we could get from there to Libertalia. There was only rumour and speculation.’ He was choosing his words carefully. ‘Then Jezreel showed up, and the three of us decided to join a company under a Captain Avery who was proposing to cruise in the Indian Ocean.’
‘I’ve heard of Captain Avery,’ she said quietly.
‘Then you’ll know he’s a freebooter. His ship, Fancy, was powerful and seaworthy. I thought that Fancy might call in at Libertalia, wherever it was, and even if she didn’t, my share of her prize would mean I had enough money for you and me, and the baby of course, to go wherever we wanted and make a new start.’
She was not looking at him as they walked, but concentrating instead on the cobbles beneath her feet.
‘Go on,’ she prompted.
He drew a breath. ‘It didn’t turn out well. We took a tremendous prize, but neither Jacques, Jezreel nor I shared in the booty. We finished up in Hindustan.’
There was another long pause. They had crossed the main town square and started up a narrow street that led up the hill. The slope was steep, and after months at sea Hector was beginning to feel the strain on his calf muscles. Maria seemed to be untroubled by the climb, even with the weight of the toddler on her hip.
‘It turned out that Avery had plundered one of the Great Mogul’s own ships, and we were lucky to be spared our lives when we were brought before an Indian judge.’ A gruesome image of Quartermaster Gibson crushed under an elephant’s foot came into his mind. ‘Jacques has chosen to stay on in Hindustan while Jezreel and I were handed over to the English East India Company for punishment.’
The sun was directly overhead now, the air hot enough to keep most people off the street. Maria took a small length of cloth out of her pocket and placed it over the toddler’s head to provide protection.
Suddenly all that Hector had wanted to say came out in a rush. He stopped, turned and pointed down into the harbour at Maynard. ‘Jezreel’s on that ship right now. When we get to London the East India merchants will question us about Avery and his piracy. We’ve agreed to cooperate. I’ve no idea what will happen afterwards. Very likely, we’ll be executed as pirates.’
Maria transferred Isabel to her other hip. She retained her composure. ‘Why has your ship called in at Santa Cruz, and why have you been allowed ashore?’
‘Because I made it a condition that I would only help track down Avery if they let me see you . . . and my child, and you were able to come to London with me.’
He put both hands gently on Maria’s shoulders and turned her so she faced him. Isabel, still sitting on Maria’s hip, looked up at him and treated him to another of her heart-stirring smiles.
‘Maybe that was a mistake,’ he said huskily. ‘Perhaps it would have been better if I had written to you to tell you all this, and not exposed you to this disaster. Then you could have chosen to go your own way, and put me behind you.’
She reached up with her free hand and touched him on the cheek. ‘Hector, you’ve done the right thing. I prefer that we are together again, even if only for a few days or a few weeks. Anything else is unthinkable.’
Hector looked around, taking in the trim little houses, the surrounding hills and the sparkling blue waters of the bay, now stippled with whitecaps. ‘Why would you want to exchange this quiet, pleasant place for an uncertain future in London? Would it not be better for
Isabel to grow up here?’
Her eyes were brimming with tears. ‘Here, hold Isabel for a moment,’ she said, and passed him the toddler while she felt in her sleeve for a handkerchief. When she had dried her eyes, she looked up at him, and she was smiling.
‘You can be such a fool, sometimes, Hector,’ she said between sniffs. ‘Of course I want to come with you, whatever happens in London. If I didn’t, I would forever think what could have been.’
‘Are you sure?’ he asked, though he already knew her answer.
‘Of course I am sure,’ she said firmly. ‘Now hand me back Isabel. You told the boatman that you would be going back to the ship later today. As Isabel and I are coming with you, there’s no time to waste. We need to tell my cousins what is happening, and collect my things.’
He reached into his pocket and took out the pearl bracelet. ‘This isn’t booty. An old lady in India gave it to me to thank me for helping her at a dangerous time. I want you to have it.’
Maria took the bracelet from him and held it up so the sunlight brought out the luminous glow of the pearls.
‘It’s a wonderful gift, and I would dearly love to keep it,’ she said, lifting the bracelet even higher as Isabel gave a crow of delight and tried to take it from her. ‘But, with your agreement, I have a better use for it. My cousins are by no means rich. Yet they took me in, showed me every kindness and have never asked for anything in return. Now, so abruptly, I will be leaving them. This bracelet is my chance to show how much I value what they freely gave me.’
She looked at him, seeking his approval.
Of course he agreed. Maria’s instinct for generosity was one of the many, many reasons to love her.
✻
Jezreel insisted on moving out of the little cabin and sleeping on Maynard’s deck. It was only right, he pointed out, that Hector, Maria and Isabel had their own accommodation as a family. Besides, it was no hardship for him to sleep under the stars. The July nights were short, and the temperature was mild. So while Maynard sailed north from Tenerife, Hector and Maria were able to enjoy some of the happiest hours of their lives together. Isabel charmed Captain Phillips enough for him to relax strict shipboard discipline and allow her parents to walk his quarterdeck by day, the toddler between them. At such times Hector found himself wishing that the voyage would go on for ever. The sunshine warm on his face, he would look up at the sails bellying in the following breeze, then close his eyes so he could better feel through the soles of his feet the gentle rocking motion as the ship ploughed forward through the sea. But when he opened his eyes again and looked about him, it was impossible to ignore the message of the cheerful faces and good spirits of the ship’s company: every mile was bringing the ship nearer to her final destination.
Phillips kept a safe distance from any vessels they sighted. Hector overheard him remark to his first mate that, after successfully avoiding freebooters in the Indian Ocean, he had no intention of falling prey to home-based pirates.
So Hector was puzzled when, as Maynard entered the English Channel, Phillips ordered the helmsman to alter course and steer directly for a vessel approaching from the north-east. The stranger’s sails had been visible for some time, and Phillips had been watching them intently through his spyglass. It was another two hours before the other vessel, a large merchantman, was close enough for Hector to make out the flag flying at her stern. The design was of nine red and white horizontal stripes and a red cross in the upper corner, the same as Maynard’s. She was another East India Company ship, outward bound.
The two vessels drew together until they were some thirty paces apart and backed their sails. For a few minutes they held their positions while the two captains had a brief exchange of information, shouting through their speaking trumpets above the creak of rigging as the two vessels rolled on the gentle swell, and the occasional slap of canvas.
Berkeley Castle was bound for Bombay and then for Swally Hole. Her captain wanted to know the latest news from Hindustan.
‘Surat?’ he shouted. ‘I heard there was trouble with the Mogul governor.’
‘All quiet now,’ Phillips called back. ‘Trading has resumed.’
‘What about customs fees?’
‘Unchanged from last year.’
Then came a question that caused Hector’s stomach to give a lurch as he and Jezreel stood listening at the rail.
‘Hear any reports of a freebooter vessel called Fancy?’ asked the captain of Berkeley Castle. Phillips could not stop himself from flicking a sideways glance at his two passengers.
‘You mean Avery’s ship?’ he called back.
‘She’s vanished, along with Avery and all his company. Leadenhall badly wants him caught and brought to justice.’
Jezreel leaned close to Hector. ‘Leadenhall is the London street where the East India Company has its headquarters,’ he said in a low voice.
‘Heard nothing of him,’ Phillips shouted across the gap.
‘A pity. There’s a five hundred pound reward on offer for information leading to his arrest.’
The breeze was causing the ships to drift, and the gap between them was widening. The conversation came to an end as the two captains wished one another a prosperous voyage before ordering their crews to make sail.
Phillips waited until Maynard was underway. Directing a sardonic smile towards Hector and Jezreel, he observed, ‘Seems that the two of you will be very much in demand when we get to London.’
TWENTY-TWO
The last day of July promised to be blisteringly hot as Maynard came up the Thames with the making tide. By eight in the morning a quivering heat haze had begun to form above the Poplar marsh when she picked up a mooring buoy in Blackwall Reach. A wherry came out with a searcher from the local revenue office to check her cargo. When he clambered out of the hold after finishing his inspection, he was gasping for air and his drunkard’s face with its network of veins was flushed a bright red.
‘Captain, these are my findings,’ he said to Phillips, flapping his tally sheet in the air to dry off the sweat that had dripped from his forehead and was causing the ink to blur. ‘I’ll bring them to Customs House for the calculation of excise due. If you wish, you can accompany me into the city.’
Hector had been out on the main deck since first light, standing with Maria and Isabel at the rail and gazing at the passing shoreline as Maynard came upriver. It had been too hot and stuffy to stay in their cramped cabin.
‘Come up here, Lynch!’ Phillips called down.
Hector gave Maria’s hand a reassuring squeeze, and made his way up to the quarterdeck.
‘Lynch, I’m taking you and your colleague direct to Leadenhall. The Company can decide what to do with you.’
‘What about my wife and child?’ Hector asked. ‘What happens to them while I’m away? When will I be back?’
Phillips turned his attention to where Maria was watching, Isabel on her hip. Seeing the captain looking in her direction, the toddler removed her thumb from her mouth and smiled up at him.
Phillips’s expression softened. ‘Your wife and child can stay aboard Maynard for now. The ship will be on this mooring for several days while we unload.’
‘Thank you.’ Hector’s stomach knotted with anxiety at the thought of leaving Maria and Isabel and not knowing when he would return.
‘The sooner you’re off my hands, the better,’ Phillips snapped, resuming his usual cold manner.
Hector had barely enough time to explain to Maria what was happening, before he and Jezreel were climbing down the ship’s ladder to join Phillips and the sweaty searcher in the customs wherry. Three oarsmen rowed from the forward thwarts while their passengers sat facing one another on benches in the stern. As Hector settled into his place next to Jezreel, he could not help noticing the bamboo tube that protruded from a canvas satchel of ship’s documents at Phillips’s feet. Moments later the boat had cast off from Maynard, and the wherrymen were rowing up-river, keeping close to the north bank to ta
ke advantage of the slack water and counter-currents now that the tide had turned.
The Thames foreshore reeked. High-water mark was a swathe of rubbish where broken branches and rotten timbers lay jumbled together. The falling tide was leaving all manner of filth on the mud: raw sewage, shreds of rags and the bloated corpses of drowned animals. Their sodden, matted fur gave no clue as to their identity. Only by their size and shape could one guess whether the living creature had been a cat or a dog, or one of the sheep grazing the flood dyke. Buzzing clouds of flies rose and settled on the carrion, and seagulls tore and squabbled over fresh pickings. Occasionally one of the wherrymen gave an irritated grunt as his oar blade tangled with some nastiness floating in the river. When the boat passed an exceptionally foul object, the searcher covered his mouth and nose with his handkerchief. The rest of the time he used it to wipe the sweat rolling down his face.
Hector twisted round to look at the opposite bank a quarter of a mile distant. Here the view was very different. A magnificent parkland with tree-lined avenues and footpaths spread up the hillside behind the tiled roofs of a riverside village. At the foot of the slope the sunlight flashed from the glass windowpanes of a palatial mansion. On the summit of the hill stood a new-looking structure that could have been a defensive tower except there were no fortifications. The walls were of pinkish-red brick pierced by tall windows. Small turrets capped the corners of the roof. He was puzzling what purpose the building served when Phillips pointed up at it and asked the searcher if he knew when the ‘king’s astronomical observator’ was due to publish his new star map for navigators. ‘I’ve no idea, captain,’ the man replied, ‘I’m told that he just sits up there on his arse gazing at the sky. Refuses to tell anyone what he’s learning.’ The building on the hill, Hector concluded, was an observatory.
Their wherry was among a handful of vessels labouring upstream, following the curve of a great bend in the river. The majority of river users headed in the opposite direction. With little wind to fill their sails they were drifting with the current: crude rafts made of logs lashed together, coal barges and lighters, a sloop of war and merchant ships ranging in size from small hoys to a bulbous three-masted fluyt flying the red, white and blue of the flag of the Dutch Republic. A speeding shallop caught Hector’s eye. Rowed by eight men in livery, it came weaving its way down through the slow-moving traffic, its sole passenger sitting in the stern under an awning with a gold fringe. Hector supposed that it was headed for the grand estate on the south bank.
