HF - 03 - The Devil's Own

by Christopher Nicole

  'The sweetest drink in all the world.' Warner assured him. 'And made from our own good sugar. The liquid molasses, you understand, suitably thinned and fermented. There you have the rum. Add some lime juice, to keep out the scurvy, and some sugar, to sweeten it up again, and a good deal of ice, for fear the strong liquor lays you flat in a single blow, and you have nectar, Mr Parke. Sheer nectar.'

  'Knock me flat?' Parke grumbled, raising his mug. He drank, with a lusty sigh, and stepped back. 'By God.' He blinked. ' 'Tis certainly stronger than wine.'

  Kit, who had made the acquaintance of rumbullion on board Morgan's ship, sipped his punch more cautiously, very aware that he was being scrutinized by every man in the room. Perhaps he was the first real-life buccaneer any of them had ever seen. It certainly behoved him to tread warily in this society. But already questions were bubbling into his brain, if he dared ask them.

  'Aye,' Philip Warner said. 'We had heard of the fate of Tortuga in the recent war. But you cannot say I did not warn you, Master Hilton. I trust your grandmother made her escape in time?'

  'My grandmother was hanged by the Dons,' Kit said.

  'The devil,' Philip muttered, and a murmur of outrage went round the room. 'And so you sailed with Morgan. By God, I cannot altogether blame you. And as you pointed out, it is in your blood. And so what brings you to Antigua? You're no cane-planter, I'll be bound.'

  Kit glanced at Parke, who promptly came to his rescue.

  'No, sir, he is not. But he has sworn to turn his back upon villainy and bloodshed, having had a bellyful in Panama. Kit seeks employment, Colonel Warner. And be sure you will find no stouter seafarer in all these islands. I give you my word on that.'

  'Employment?' Philip Warner stared at Kit. 'You came to Antigua for employment?'

  Kit was flushing with embarrassment and even anger at Parke's latest pronunciamento. 'No, sir, I did not. Having made Mr Parke's acquaintance, I agreed to accompany him on a tour of these islands.'

  'Oh, come now, Kit,' Parke said. 'Do not dissemble before these gentlemen. Would you not make your future here amongst your own kind, rather than come with me to America, a nameless vagabond?'

  'I do assure you, Daniel,' Kit began, but Parke was already bounding off on another, more vital subject.

  'I wonder, Colonel Warner, if I might ask after your daughter, Marguerite? I have heard that she is the most beautiful charmer in all the world.'

  Philip Warner's gaze was cold. 'In Virginia, sir? In any event, my daughter is lately widowed, of Harry Templeton, may God rest his soul in peace, and is not at this moment receiving.'

  Marguerite, a widow? Now why, Kit wondered, did that set his heart pounding? They had met but once, and four years in the past, yet suddenly her memory came clouding back with a clarity he had thought to have lost forever. And if Modyford was to be believed, she might also remember him.

  'Then I apologize,' Parke said, without a hint of embarrassment. 'Now, tell me, can the Deputy Governor of Antigua not find a suitable post for a man of Kit's talents? Especially as he is an old friend.'

  Warner pinched his lip, and glanced at his companions.

  'I seek no charity, sir,' Kit insisted. 'Nor will I accept any, even from you, Daniel. If my passage irks you, be sure that I am prepared to work it, from here to Barbados.'

  'And what would you do there that you cannot do here?' Parke inquired. 'If only you would understand that I seek to help you, dear Kit. The Leewards are the future of this hemisphere, sir, nay, of this entire empire. So it is loudly said, and what I have seen here today but convinces me of the truth of that statement. I have heard a respectable merchant, a man with much knowledge of trade and affairs, declare that within fifty years an ounce of good sugar will be worth more than an ounce of pure gold. I will not dispute that point, sir. I but suggest that you remain in close proximity to such a bottomless mine, for be sure that wealth will filter.'

  'An admirable sentiment, and prognostication which agrees with my own,' Philip Warner said. 'But to find a suitable post for Hilton ...'

  'The sloop,' said the man who had first addressed Kit, a heavy-set fellow with a shock of red hair, and not much older than himself, Kit estimated.

  'Edward Chester,' Philip said offhandedly. 'One of my associates. You have a solution to this problem, Edward?'

  'Indeed, sir. Do we not at this moment need a master for the Bonaventure, and is not Mr Hilton a seafaring man, who comes from a line of seafaring men? And a man of spirit, too. Why, he could be the answer to a prayer.'

  Warner was frowning as he gazed at Kit, while Kit's heart was bounding with excitement. A ship, of his own? Even if it was only a trading sloop? And based on St John's. Where surely a chance meeting could be arranged.

  'These are treacherous waters,' Warner said.

  'None a seaman might not navigate,' Chester insisted.

  'And treacherous times.'

  'For a man who sailed with Morgan?'

  'Tell us of this sloop,' Parke said. 'I do assure you that Kit will handle her as I might handle my horse, and there is no better horseman in all America.'

  'Indeed?' Philip asked, somewhat drily. 'Perhaps I doubt that it will be sufficiently interesting for Mr Hilton. We speak of a sloop, you understand, which is jointly owned by a consortium of planters here and which trades with St Eustatius.'

  Kit frowned. 'Is that not a Dutch colony?'

  'Indeed, sir, so it is,' Chester explained. 'And as the meinheers, very generously, do not charge any duties upon their imports to that island, wc find it convenient to import most of our European goods through their warehouses, and then bring them here privily.'

  'Smuggling, by God,' Parke shouted, and burst into laughter. 'I like the sound of that.'

  'We prefer to call it customs avoidance,' Philip Warner said.

  'But ...' Kit stared at them in horror. 'Are we not at war with Holland? And what of the Navigation Acts? Are we not specifically forbidden to carry any goods to or from English soil except in English bottoms, and equally forbidden to trade with any country save England herself, or our sister colonies?'

  'By God,' someone in the crowd said. 'And this man sailed with Morgan?'

  Kit rounded on them. 'However mistaken he may have been, sir, in his knowledge of current politics, Admiral Morgan considered he was carrying on legitimate warfare against the flag of Spain, when he landed at Chagres. Now, were you to offer me a command against St Eustatius ...'

  'By God,' Chester said. 'What a bloodthirsty fellow you are, Mr Hilton. And did you not just claim to have turned your back on violence? Why should we fight the Dutch merely because some trumped-up ass in Whitehall suggests it? Those Hollanders are far more our people than any of the mountebanks who surround the King.'

  'Treason,' Kit said. 'You speak treason, sir. And before the Deputy Governor.'

  The assembly looked at the smiling Philip Warner. 'It seems that you require a simple lesson in West Indian politics, Kit,' he said. 'To be sure, Sir William Stapleton would call what we have just heard, treason. But Stapleton, fortunately for us all, is in St Kitts, and that is hull down on the horizon. And he is not a planter, sir, not one of us. He is merely an ambitious soldier with a reputation to make or lose. We, sir, cultivated these islands before the gentlemen in Whitehall knew of their existence. Your grandfather was involved in that venture. And when Whitehall discovered that we could make a living here, their one thought was to tax us as heavily as they might. And in those days we grew tobacco. When we, not they, discerned the additional value to be gained from sugar, they had no desire to advance us the money or provide us with the slaves we needed; we might have starved, but for our friends the Hollanders. And now that we are again prosperous, more prosperous than ever before, in fact, thanks to the men of Amsterdam, Whitehall would slap yet heavier taxes upon us. Sir, I am often sickened at the thought of being an Englishman. Indeed, I am not. I am an Antiguan. As are these gentlemen. As must you be, if you would remain here. We lack the power, at present, ope
nly to defy the Government, but I'll be damned if we'll pay them more than lip service. Do I speak for us all?' There was a roar of approbation.

  'By God,' Parke said. ' 'Tis a spirit I cannot help but admire, even if I doubt it would be well received in Jamestown. Me-thinks, Kit, you'd do well to go along with these gentlemen. This is a small world, which can only grow bigger. Be sure that every man who takes his place at the beginning of the process must also, by the very nature of things, grow to a similar size.' He burst out laughing again at the confusion on Kit's face. 'I tell you what I shall do to help you settle your mind, old friend. I will sail upon your first venture. As supernumerary. For I was never yet involved in a business which did not yield a handsome profit.'

  'By God.' Daniel Parke levelled his telescope. 'Are there houses, too?'

  It was an hour past dawn, and the sun still hung low in the eastern sky, promising a day of invariable brilliance. They had left Antigua the previous night, making north with the trade wind on the beam, under cover of darkness to avoid any chance encounter with the revenue frigate from St Kitts. At midnight Kit had altered course to run down on the little island of St Eustatius, and there it was, three miles to port, hardly more than a rock sticking up out of the Saba bank, but containing a town as large as St John's, and one which as Daniel had just commented, seemed to contain nothing more than an endless bank of enormous warehouses, crowding the waterfront. Which was itself crowded, with shipping, flying the French and English flags, as well as the Dutch.

  'A free port,' Parke murmured, sliding down to the deck. 'Why, 'tis a fabulous conception, Kit. What right has any government to tax a man's necessities?' He gave a peal of that winning laughter. 'Or his luxuries, by God.'

  Kit was preoccupied with conning the entrance to the harbour. 'We'll have that mainsail down, Agrippa,' he shouted. 'And bring up under jib alone. Smartly, now.'

  Because it was exhilarating, there could be no doubt about that. It had been exhilarating just to step on board, and know that the Bonaventure was his to command. A smuggler. But a trim, fast craft. Well, she had to be, to be successful at her trade. And she had teeth: four cannon. He prayed they would never be fired in anger.

  And now they had arrived. Under foresail alone, and under the blanket of a single hill which made the tiny island, the sloop slipped gently up to a gap in the line of moored vessels, and the anchor plunged into the clear green water.

  'Nicely done, Captain,' Parke cried, and slapped him on the shoulder. 'I'm for the shore. Look there, man, do I not know that vessel?'

  Kit followed his gaze through the forest of masts. 'None I recognize.'

  'A Jamestown schooner, by God. I'll across and pass the time of day. And maybe take a glass of this killdevil which clouds a man's brain. You'll accompany me?'

  'I think I had best be about my duties,' Kit said. 'We are to sail at dusk again, and I suspect this is our bondman now.'

  A lugger approached under shortened sail; her decks were crowded with bales and boxes, and with people as well.

  'Then I'll leave you to it,' Parke said. 'If you will permit me the use of your jolly boat.'

  'Gladly,' Kit said. 'But be sure you are back by five of the clock.' He went to the rail, hailed the boat which was bringing up alongside. 'Do you speak English?'

  'But of course, Captain,' said the man on the tiller, a large, fair, red-faced fellow. 'You are new to us.'

  'I master the Bonaventure, sir,' Kit said. 'And I have the necessary papers in my cabin.'

  'I never doubted that.' The Dutchman swung himself up the shrouds. 'Pieter Lenzing, at your service, Captain.'

  'Christopher Hilton.'

  'Hilton,' Lenzing mused. 'Hilton. I have heard the name.' 'My grandfather was Governor of Tortuga.' 'And before that I have a notion he sailed with Piet Heyn.'

  Lenzing squeezed Kit's hand. 'I had not supposed that such a privilege could ever be mine, Captain Hilton. We'll to your cabin, if I may. But I can give the order to start loading now.' 'Then do so,' Kit agreed.

  'And may Meinheer Christianssen come on board?' Kit frowned. 'You have the advantage of me, Meinheer.' 'Dag Christianssen,' Lenzing explained. 'He has spent a week here, purchasing goods, and now wishes to return home.' 'To St John's?'

  'That is his home, certainly. But of course, you are new to Antigua. Dag owns the central warehouse there.' Lenzing laid his finger alongside his nose. 'A Quaker, you understand, Captain, like so many of the Danes who come to these islands. But there are advantages ...'

  Kit returned to the rail, looked down at the man and the woman. Dag Christianssen could have passed for a Dutchman, a burly man with a florid face and a mass of golden hair, which he apparently seldom cut and never shaved, for it flowed from his chin and around his ears like a waterfall. He might even have been a boucanier but for the cleanliness and severity of his dress, for despite the heat he wore a long black coat, and black stockings, while his cravat, if white, was not more than a glimmer at his throat, entirely lacking in lace. His hat was a plain black beaver, such as had been popular in England under the Commonwealth.

  But the woman. Surely she was his daughter, for she could not be more than a third of his age, although she possessed his height and colouring, a tall stem of golden beauty. Perhaps. Her face was long, and too serious. Nose and chin were straight and well-shaped, and separated by a mouth wide enough for generosity, and flat enough for determination, as well. As she also wore a wide hat, in grey, Kit could not see her eyes, nor was it easy to decide on her figure, for she was totally concealed beneath a shapeless grey gown, high-necked with a wide white collar, and only slightly pulled in at her waist by a belt. But her height and obvious slenderness promised well, and she moved well, too, with an easy grace.

  'Quickly,' he bellowed at Agrippa. 'Assist the lady.'

  The big man grinned, and swung his leg over the gunwale to give her his hand.

  Her father came up unaided. 'I have not had the pleasure of your acquaintance, Captain, but it is glad I am to see you. The previous master of this vessel was an unmitigated scoundrel, and no seaman into the bargain.'

  'So any change must be for the better,' Lenzing smiled.

  'Aye,' Kit said. 'It is to be hoped so. But I make no claims to virtue, Mr Christianssen. My name is Christopher Hilton.'

  'Hilton?' The merchant frowned. 'A familiar name.'

  'Indeed it is,' Lenzing agreed. 'His father and grandfather were buccaneers, men of action, Mr Christianssen. As is this young man, I'll be bound. Come below, Captain, and we'll take a glass and itemize the manifest.'

  He headed for the cabin, obviously familiar with the ship. Kit hesitated, w-atching the young woman straightening her skirts as she reached the deck.

  Christianssen followed his gaze. 'My daughter, Lilian, Captain Hilton. Our new master is a buccaneer, it seems, my dear.'

  She gave Kit her hand. The firm quality of her features increased with a closer inspection, and her eyes were a magnificent clear blue. 'I trust we are safe in your company, sir.'

  'Your father omitted to finish his tale, Miss Christianssen,' Kit said, with some embarrassment. 'I have seen sufficient piracy to understand that it is not for me, God willing.'

  'Then there is yet hope for your soul, Captain,' she said. 'But you should be about your business.'

  'Will you not join us, sir, and your daughter?' Kit asked the tradesman. 'Surely, if you own the St John's warehouse, the goods I import from this place are of interest to you?'

  'Indeed they are, Captain,' Christianssen agreed. 'And more than half of them are destined for my cellars, to be sure. But I prefer not to indulge in spirituous liquors, you understand, and I would not interfere with either your or Mr Lenzing's pleasure. So you attend to your manifest, and I will attend to my business, no doubt to our mutual profit.' He turned back to the rail to supervise the loading.

  Kit continued to hesitate, standing beside Lilian. Now why, he wondered. Was he not working for Philip Warner only in the hope of once again meeting
Marguerite? All other women could be nothing more than distractions. And in any event, would Lilian not shrink away from his side had she the slightest understanding of what he really was, of what he had really done, with his life?

  'Pray do not let us detain you from your affairs, sir,' she said.

  'You may believe, Miss Christianssen,' he said, 'that I would far rather be detained here by you than either drink a glass of rum or scrutinize a manifest with Meinheer Lenzing. I am also concerned that this vessel lacks proper accommodation for ladies.'

  'Then please cease to be, sir,' she said. 'In the first place, it is a journey of only a few hours, and in this pleasant climate it is no hardship at all for me to remain on deck throughout the night, and in the second place it is a voyage I have made several times before.'