Turning to my belongings, I dug out two pistols and loaded them and tucked both into my belt. To leave Port Royal for Santiago de la Vega and the mouth of the Rio Cobre was simply to cross the entrance to the bay. In my mind's eye I pictured the distance.
Two miles? Or a bit more?
I would go now, at once.
Chapter XIV
The boy I found on the shore who would take me across the harbor entrance was slim and very black, his eyes large and soulful. "A shillin', suh. I does it for a shillin'."
"Make good time and keep your eyes out for trouble and there'll be another shillin'," I said.
"A shillin'," he said. "An' I see anything you should know, I tell you."
He pushed off as soon as I was seated, and we moved at once out over the dark water. Dark water where no wind blew, and two dozen ships lay at anchor, pirate vessels most of them, some bulging with cargo freshly looted from vessels on the Spanish Main. Nor was the harbor quiet because night had come. A lighter, piled high with bales and casks, passed us. There were lights in the ships, and from a galleon, still bearing marks of fire and cannon balls, there came drunken singing. A man lurched to the rail and waved a bottle at us, inviting us for a drink. From shore there was the sound of music and drunken singing. It was a wild night in a wild port upon a wild sea with the island looming high and dark behind it.
"Lived here long?" I asked.
"No other place," he said. "I like it, suh. This is what I like, the boat, a man to take across, a shillin' comin' when you step ashore, an' sometime a cabin on the slope of the Healthshire Hills."
He was silent, and the oar chunked solemnly in the oarlock at the stern. There was not wind enough for a sail, although beyond the ships at anchor there might be.
"I been ast to go upon a ship. More'n one time. I don't want that. I don't want no gold bought for blood. I like a quiet time with the sound of my oar or water past the hull. I like a man settin' quiet like you. I like the smells on the other side, yonder. I like it over on Galleon Bay."
For a long time he was silent, and after a bit I said, "I am from the mountains of America, far away to the north. I have a cabin there where the flowers bloom and where the mountain edges reach up to the sky. I know what you mean."
He set me ashore after a while on a sandy spit near the river, and I gave him his shilling. "You have a family?" I asked. I could see the whites of his eyes in the darkness and the white scarf tied about his head.
"I once had. Maman died when I was tall as her waist. Papa an' me, we put her down and marked the place. He done stayed on wi' me, but his eyes were always a-looking at the sea, and ever' time a ship sailed, I think he's heart go wi' it.
"One day I was fourteen, an' papa he say I am man now, an' I say you go, papa. You go down where the ships go because I see he's heart is with them, and he went away, and I have my boat and sometimes a shillin'."
"What name do you have?"
"Andrew, suh. I am called Andrew."
"No other name?" I saw his teeth when he smiled.
"I have no need for other name. I am Andrew. It is enough. If I had another name, too, I might feel big about me, and it is not good. A boy named Andrew who has a boat. Good-by, suh."
I put the shilling in his hand, and he pushed off and went into the darkness, standing tall and quiet in his boat. I stood alone in the darkness, unmoving, until the night lost the sound of his oar.
All was black about me; a loom of jungle-covered hills and only a narrow strip of white shoreline stood close. I walked up the beach and stood to think, to decide which way I should go, but there was a soft rustling and a sound near me.
"Captain? It is Henry."
He came from the shadows. Several others moved near him, and I kept a hand on a pistol. "It is well, Captain. They are maroons and my people."
"They have taken Adele Legare. Where are they now?"
"Not far." He laughed softly. "They do not know, but they are watched. My people are like the Indians of your country. They are quiet in the forest."
"Are they camped?"
"They move slowly, I think, as if waiting for somebody or for a time. They now are near the Salt Ponds, but I think they go to Galleon Bay. It is a good place for boats to come and not to be seen."
He led the way, and we moved swiftly. There had been a shower earlier, and the leaves dripped, yet I think it helped to obscure the sounds of our passing, and we had been going but a few minutes when a man came from the jungle. We stopped briefly while he talked to Henry; then he faded into the jungle and was gone.
"They are but minutes away." He glanced at me, as I could dimly see. "There will be fighting, I think."
"How many are they?"
"Seven now, and a light was seen on Galleon Bay, a signal, we believe." He led the way sharply downhill. The earth was muddy under foot, and several times I slipped but each time caught myself before falling.
Suddenly the water was before us, a goodly stretch of it with the darkness of land beyond. Henry touched my arm. "We walk easily here, for there is a swamp along the shore."
My boots were ill fitted for such travel, and I longed for a pair of my moccasins, which suited me better. We emerged upon solid footing, a stretch along the shore, and we walked along the sand.
Suddenly a voice spoke, "Sheer off there! Belay it! We want no visitors here!"
"But you have them, my friend," I said quietly. "You have many visitors, and we wish the young lady. You may release her now, or we will have your blood first."
"Sheer off!" There was anger in the voice and maybe a shadowing of doubt or fear.
"Are you there, madame?"
"I am," she replied.
There was the sound of a blow, and I said, "Your life shall pay for that," and we closed in around them.
A man came at me, cutlass swinging, but I fenced as my father and Jeremy had taught me. I moved back, and sure he had me, he came in swiftly. He cut sharply at me and missed; my point did not. My blade touched the point where his neck met his chest.
He fell back, coughing, and my eyes, accustomed to the darkness now, saw a man turn on Adele, and I had a pistol from my waistband and a shot.
He fell.
There was a shout from the boat coming in. "Lashan?"
The maroons were armed with cutlasses, and but two or three had muskets. They turned and fired toward the incoming boat, and there was a curse, and then the boat began to back water swiftly. I thrust my empty pistol into my waistband and held my sword ready, but the fighting was over. On the sand were dark bodies, stretched and still. A maroon moved to stop one who was crawling away. "Let him go," I said. "If he lives, he can tell them how foolish they were."
Adele came to me across the sand. "You came in time. I knew you would."
"It is Henry who deserves the thanks," I said. "May we take you home now?"
At least three of her captors had fled, but we did not pursue. To find them in the darkness would be difficult, and my first task was to take Madame Legare to her home.
"It is arranged for," Henry said. "We borrowed a carriage from a plantation."
"Henry, no one must know of this. I hope you did not--"
He smiled. "I did not. They do not even know their carriage is being used, and before they do know, it will be back in its place, wiped clean as if never used."
Hours later, we drove into the winding, palm-lined lane to the plantation house.
As we came near the house, a man walked out on the wide verandah. I rode on in advance. "Master Legare?"
He was a man in his thirties, not unhandsome and with a kindly but worried face. "Yes?"
"Madame Legare was taken by pirates, slavers, or something of the sort. We have brought her home. She was not harmed."
"You are?"
"Kin Ring Sackett, of Virginia. The others," I added, "are maroons."
"Maroons?" He was startled. "But--!"
"They are our friends," I said, "and without them we could have done little
."
The carriage drew up, and he ran down the steps to help her down. "You are all right?"
"All right." She smiled suddenly, her hand still resting in his. "And I am home."
"Will you come in?" He paused at the door, looking about. "Why! They are gone!"
Glancing back, I saw it was true. They had faded into the jungle and the planting as if they had never been. I had no need to ask where Henry might be. He knew, as I did, there was much to be done and that most of it must be done in Port Royal or in Santiago de la Vega.
The room into which I was shown was large and high of ceiling. Wide windows looked out over green lawns flaming with tropical flowers, whose names I knew not.
"You must rest, Captain," Legare said, "but first something to eat."
"There is little time--" I started to say, but he lifted a hand.
"Enough. We have much to talk of, you and I." He glanced at me. "You have known my wife long?"
Briefly I explained my meeting with her and why I had come to Jamaica. I added, "In the Cape Ann district Madame Legare was a friend to a girl whom I know. A girl I--"
I caught myself up short. What was I saying? I hardly knew the girl, and she knew even less of me. A servant came in bearing a tray with coffee, eggs, ham, and a melon, of which I knew nothing.
"Adele does not wish me disturbed," Legare said, "and she knows I am a quiet man who prefers a quiet life. I have books, I read much, I oversee my plantation myself, and I engage in a bit of trade. I also"--he took up a slice of toast and broke it in his fingers--"dabble in the governing of the island.
"Often," he said, "I find it best to do what must be done without going through the usual channels. Adele is not yet familiar with my methods of operation. She does know that I prefer our life here. It is quiet, pleasant. We have a few friends and a graceful, easy life."
He put down his glass. "I understand very well how you feel and agree that something must be done. I have thought so for some time. Now--suddenly--they have brought it home to me."
"I have heard," I suggested, "that Joseph Pittingel has many friends in high places, that he moves as he wishes."
"To a point ... only to a point. Unfortunately for him, he has never known how shallow are the roots of his power, nor has he ever been able to temper his greed. Continual success has led him to believe there can be no failure."
Legare smiled, refilling my glass with coffee. "As to that, Captain Sackett, I agree."
"I have been called 'Captain' but I have no claim to the title," I said. "I am captain of nothing."
He shrugged. "No matter. It is convenient. There are many such in the islands. It is a courtesy title as much as anything else, so grant those who use it their pleasure."
He changed the subject suddenly and began talking of trade between the islands and Carolina and the Plymouth colony. "I have been content to plant and reap, but lately I have been thinking of branching out, building a three-cornered trade between the islands, England, and Carolina. I have hesitated because it demands a trip to England to find an agent there."
A thought came to me, and I suggested, "I have a brother there who is a student of law at the Inns of Court. He is young, but he would be pleased to act for you."
"His name?"
"Brian Sackett. I hear he has established very good connections there and has already a considerable background in the law."
"Excellent! I can give him the chance, at least, and if he does well, there can be much business. The trade is growing, and I foresee much settlement in Carolina and Virginia and with it a growing demand as well as a need for a market for their produce, whatever it may be."
"My father shipped several cargoes of mast timbers and potash while he was yet alive. Furs, of course. There is gold in limited quantity and some gems--very few."
Legare got to his feet. "And you? What of you?"
"I am for the land," I said. "All of this"--I gestured about--"is well and good, but I am a man of the forest and at home there. I have no great desire for wealth, and where I wish to live, there would be none to admire it.
"On the west of the blue mountains I have a cabin. I have a crop of corn which badly needs my attention now, and when this is done, I shall return. There is fruit and nuts in the forest, if one works hard enough, and there is fresh meat to have if one has the powder and lead.
"I have never wanted fine clothes or such a home. All I want of people are books. I love much to read, although a life in the wilderness leaves too little time for it. Still, by the firelight, and of an evening--"
Yet even as I spoke my thoughts were out there in the darkness. Where was Max Bauer? What now were the thoughts of Joseph Pittingel? And what had I done but frustrate them one more time, bringing us no nearer a conclusion.
They wanted me dead, and I was not dead. Not yet. Would they be out there in the dark? I thought not. They knew now of the maroons, our good friends, and they were no match for them by night.
They would await the coming of the day. They would suspect--
"I can offer you a carriage," Legare said, "to carry you back to Port Royal or whatever you prefer."
"Two hours of rest," I suggested, "and then a good horse."
"But--?"
"They will expect me to come by day, or they will expect me now. A carriage would be a death trap."
So it was arranged, and I went up to the bed they provided in a high-ceilinged room with mosquito netting all about the bed. The night was warm, but I slept well.
At an hour after midnight a black man came quietly to my bedside. "It is time, Captain. You will have coffee?"
It was waiting for me in a small, pleasant room, a slice of melon, a thick piece of bread, and some cold meat. I ate, drank the coffee, and the black man led me down a narrow passage. "The slaves' quarters," he said apologetically. "We will not be noticed this way."
"You have spoken to Henry?"
He glanced at me. He was a tall man, quite thin, with graying hair. "I have not," he said quietly. "You have helped the mistress. It is enough."
He paused a moment. "She is very good to us," he added simply.
In the shadow of a stable a black horse waited, restive, eager to be off and away. He was saddled and bridled, and two horse pistols were in scabbards on either side of the saddle.
The black man pointed the road for me. "There is no safety anywhere," he said quietly, "but you do not seem a man who is used to safety. Ride well."
He turned away and walked to the house, not looking back. For a moment I waited, shadowed by the black bulk of the stable. There was no sound in the night Inside the stable a horse stamped restlessly; I turned the black and rode past the corral and at the roadside paused, listening to the night
It was very hot and still. Frogs talked in a pond somewhere not far away, and there were countless small noises, made by creatures unknown to me.
Walking the black into the trail, I started for Santiago de la Vega, some distance away. My right hand touched a pistol, loosening it in the holster. Before we reached town, I should have need of it. This was not simply something I supposed. I knew it.
Chapter XV
The narrow road was a dim path through dark jungle broken here and there by open country turned from jungle to planting or grazing. The moon was rising, still unseen. The rail fences at some places took on a skeletonlike appearance.
A night hawk or some such creature flitted by overhead. Aside from the vague night noises there was no sound but the clop-clop of my horse's hoofs. Uneasily I kept turning in my saddle to look back, and my eyes searched ahead for a warning of any attack.
The jungle walled in the road on either side, no tree distinguishable from another. At last we cleared the jungle, and open fields lay on each side, all white and gray in the moonlight, yet I could not relax. Long ago I had learned the most innocent-seeming places were often the worst. My horse's ears pricked, and he broke stride a bit, then continued on. I drew both pistols and hoped my mount was familiar
with shooting from the saddle.
At least he had warned me. They came suddenly from a bend in the road, one that scarcely seemed to be there, and some low-lying brush. But my horse had warned me in tune, and as the first man came off the ground, I shot him.
He loomed up just at the right place for me, and I shot into his chest at no more than twenty feet. The heavy slug knocked him back, and I dropped the gun into the scabbard, swinging my horse sharply away and clapping my heels to his flanks. He was a good horse, and he leaped away in fine style. From behind me a gun bellowed, and something whisked past my skull. Turning in the saddle, I held the other pistol for a moment, looking down the barrel at a looming figure in the trail behind me.
When I actually squeezed off the shot, I knew not, but the big pistol leaped in my hands with an angry bellow, and the man missed a step and fell. Then I was away and holstering that gun.
How many there had been, I could not guess, but I surmised at least four. They had expected a complete surprise, but I was too much the wilderness man not to trust to my horse, and a good one he was, so I had been warned in time.
He seemed eager to run, so I let him have his head, and we went down the road at a good pace, the wind in my face and with the comforting knowledge that my two pistols were still loaded and ready if trouble came again.
After a bit I slowed to a canter, then a walk, then a canter again to let my horse have his tune in cooling down. There was no sign of pursuit, so they were not mounted men. When light was gray in the eastern sky, I saw the first of the outlying huts that preceded Santiago de la Vega.
Riding by the King's House and turning into an open, paved court, I stepped down before a small inn whose sign invited travelers. A black boy took my horse, and I tipped him a shilling and suggested he feed and water the black.
" 'Tis the horse of Master Legare," he said. "I know him well, and he knows me."
It was spacious and cool inside, evidently an older house, and there were several bare tables about, and a man came along to the table where I sat and brought a tankard of rum.
"Very well," I said, "but it is food I want, and the best. But not," I added, "too heavy." For I had seen that these Spanish men and what Frenchmen there were around ate too heavily for the climate. My father had learned this from Sakim, that to remain cool it is better not to eat too much meat and food of richness.
the Warrior's Path (1980) Page 12
