Until the Sea Shall Give Up Her Dead

by Sean Thomas Russell

  Fourteen

  The island of Barbados was not blessed with a natural harbour or all-weather anchorage of any description. There was only the open roadstead off Bridgetown, which was both crowded and busy with the commerce of this small but prosperous island. This exposed anchorage had but two benefits – that of being in the lee of the island, the trades blowing from the opposite side, and of being so utterly open to the sea that sailing out, if the winds suddenly demanded it, would not be impeded by headlands or off-lying reefs.

  Hayden sat upon a chair in the official room of the station’s commander-in-chief – the recently installed Admiral Benjamin Caldwell – a man Hayden had met on one or two previous occasions.

  The very well turned out and bewigged admiral sat reading Hayden’s report of his Atlantic crossing through the glinting lenses of a pince-nez suspended by hand several inches before his face. He was half obscured behind a large desk of French manufacture, no doubt recently liberated from one of several French possessions the British had taken. When the admiral finished reading he lowered both the sheaves of paper and pince-nez, and turned toward Hayden.

  ‘A woman …?’ he said, rather astonished.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And no one realized?’

  ‘Two men mentioned their suspicions to me, but no one else.’

  ‘You were aware of her ruse, though …’

  ‘I was sharing my cabin with the guests, sir.’ Hayden waved a hand at the door, beyond which lay an antechamber. ‘I have brought the brother here in the event that you might wish to speak with him.’

  ‘Mmm.’ The admiral demurred. His left eye appeared to twitch. ‘It is a matter for the Spanish, I think. It is the oddest thing that they were adrift in a boat alone, though, is it not?’

  ‘The explanation they gave—’

  ‘I read your report, Captain.’

  ‘Of course, sir.’

  ‘And they lost everything?’

  ‘Everything but the clothes on their backs … and their lives.’

  Caldwell gave a distracted little shake of the head – almost a tremor. ‘There is a merchant here, a Spaniard; not an official envoy – more of a commissioner, I suppose – but he sees to the interests of the Spanish government whenever necessary. I will bring the matter of the castaways to his attention. Perhaps he can aid them on their way to Vera Cruz.’ He shifted the pages of Hayden’s report, as though shuffling the matter of the Spanish castaways to the bottom of the pile. He then rested his hands upon the table and leaned a little forward. ‘You were at the battle of the First, Hayden – in command of Raisonnable – were you not?’

  ‘I was, sir.’

  ‘But you were not in Portsmouth when the King graced the fleet with his presence?’

  ‘No, sir. Lord Howe had dispatched me to follow the French fleet, to be certain it returned to Brest.’

  Yes … the fleet … Well put. The almost intact French fleet that returned to the unassailable harbour of Brest.’ He rose to his feet, his colour suddenly high. ‘And were we recognized for our parts in this battle, Hayden?’

  Hayden was uncertain how to respond, so he made a small gesture that could be interpreted in any number of ways.

  ‘No,’ Caldwell asserted, ‘we were not.’ He paced toward the open window then turned back to face Hayden. ‘Did you see the state of my ship when the battle was done? My sails and rig cut to ribbons, masts still standing only because the hand of God held them so. Thirty-one dead and many more wounded. How many men did Lord Howe lose? And you, Hayden, I saw you in Raisonnable come to Lord Howe’s aid when he was beset by two ships, and I saw you lay your ship alongside a Frenchman with treble your weight of broadside, and did you receive a knighthood or silver plate? Or even a commemorative medal?’

  Hayden made no answer – he had received such a medal but thought this an inopportune moment to mention it.

  ‘No! Medals were reserved for his lordship’s …’ he searched for words ‘… fart catchers!’ The admiral resumed pacing. ‘All my dead men, dead to no purpose. And what of the grain convoy? Never intercepted! The greater part of the French fleet escaped to be repaired. Seven prizes we had to show for our efforts! Seven! We should have had twenty! The truth is, and no one will say it aloud, the lord admiral’s nerve failed him at the end and the French were allowed to escape. There it is. The harsh truth, but I have said it and will not withdraw it. They are calling it “the Glorious First of June”. It should be known for all time as “the Infamous and Shameful First of June”. But Howe –’ he pronounced the name with utter disdain – ‘has connexions in the Admiralty and is a hero. I have few, and it would seem I was not even present at the glorious battle. None of my men was killed or wounded, it seems, my ship untouched.’ He stopped and looked over at Hayden, suddenly abashed, even embarrassed by his outburst. ‘Well, we are far from the Admiralty and their bumbling here, thank God,’ he said more mildly. ‘We can prosecute our own war. And there is prize money to be had – a fortune if one is lucky and not shy … and if you can avoid the Yellow Jack. Spend as little time in port as you are able, Hayden. That is the secret. The healthful sea air will soon cleanse your ship of the putrid diseases that are carried off from the shore.’

  ‘I shall keep the sea as much as I am able, then, sir.’

  Caldwell returned to his chair, and for a moment it appeared as though exhaustion had swept over him. His eyes – his entire being – seemed to lose focus. And then an almost imperceptible shiver ran through him and his concentration returned. ‘You are no doubt aware that we have suffered reverses as of late? Guadeloupe taken and then lost … The Saints, the same. The army, God bless them, have not been as stalwart as I might wish. Though it must be said that the French have had numbers everywhere. If we had only intercepted the convoy transporting their army … but our intelligence failed us. We were not so well informed then as presently.’ He considered a moment. ‘I awake each morning wondering if the Spanish remain allies and praying that I might learn of their betrayal before the news reaches Havana. In these waters only the French are our enemies – but if the Dons betray us …’ He paused a moment, considering. ‘We take these islands at great cost, Hayden, and what does our government do? Uses them at the bargaining table when treaties are written. Who in their right mind would trade an island rich in sugar for Quebec and the surrounding French possessions? One might as well trade a few rocks and trees for silver! Yet that is what our government did.’ He shook his head, shrugged and looked up at Hayden. ‘I might have need of you to transport soldiers, Hayden, but I will employ you as a cruiser as often as I am able. It is a rich hunting ground, and I am informed that you are a very capable captain.’

  ‘I do not know who informed you, sir, but I thank them.’

  There was at that moment a bustle in the office beyond. A loud voice, speaking in a heavy French accent, came reverberating through the massive doors. Caldwell glanced up at the doors and then back to Hayden. The voice rumbled on, more quietly, so that Hayden could not make out the words.

  ‘Do you know the other captains here? Jones, Oxford and Crowley?’

  ‘Sir William I know by reputation,’ Hayden said, referring to Captain Jones.

  ‘Who does not …?’ the admiral replied, and smiled.

  ‘Oxford not at all, but Crowley I have had the pleasure of meeting on more than one occasion.’

  ‘You shall get on with them splendidly, I am quite certain. Not one of them is the least shy. Sir William is the senior officer and prosecutes his war with the usual zeal.’

  ‘I shall look forward to sailing alongside them, sir.’

  The admiral looked suddenly more serious, his brows drawing up so that a cleft appeared between them. ‘Now, Hayden, am I correct in remembering that you were recently mistaken for a French officer … by the French themselves?’

  ‘That is correct, sir. When we were wrecked aboard Les Droits de l’Homme.’

  ‘So your French is very good?’


  ‘I speak it as well as I speak the King’s English, sir.’

  ‘Excellent. Would you stay a few moments longer? I have the Comte de Letandresse waiting beyond the door, and his English is only a little better than my abysmal French.’

  ‘I am at your service, sir, if I may be of assistance in any way.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  The admiral went to the great doors and opened one, revealing Miguel and a large, moustached man seated beyond. A word with his secretary and the moustached gentleman was brought in.

  Caldwell gestured to Hayden as he rose from his chair. ‘I have asked Captain Hayden to remain with us. His French is excellent.’

  ‘Where did you learn to speak French, Capitaine?’ the man enquired.

  ‘My mother was French. I spent much time in Brittany and Bordeaux when I was young.’

  ‘Ah, my own family had estates in Burgundy – also great wine country. And how is it you have come to be in the King’s Navy, if I may ask?’

  ‘My father was an English sea captain. I grew up in England.’

  ‘Ah, that is the explanation.’

  ‘I was acquainted with Captain Hayden’s father,’ Caldwell informed the Frenchman.

  ‘I did not know that, sir,’ Hayden said.

  ‘I cannot claim to have known him well, but we were acquainted. He was a respected sea officer.’

  Hayden felt a little softening toward the admiral at this admission.

  ‘You may speak freely before Captain Hayden,’ Caldwell assured de Latendresse. ‘Nothing said here will be repeated.’

  They all took chairs. The Frenchman perched upon his skittishly, as though he might jump up and leap out of the window at any instant.

  ‘I have just, as you know,’ de Latendresse began, ‘returned from a dangerous fortnight on Guadeloupe. The Jacobin forces are there in greater numbers than I previously believed – at least fifteen hundred-strong, I am told, perhaps more. It was very dangerous for me to move about the island. Many of my old friends had been discovered or taken away merely because their sympathies had fallen under suspicion.’ He shook his head unhappily. ‘It was very brave of them to stay … though even more it was foolish.’ He looked up, his eyes infinitely sad. ‘But some of us must take such risks if this Jacobin madness is to be defeated and a rightful monarch restored.’

  ‘Is there not some vulnerable point,’ Caldwell asked in English, ‘some point where we might land our troops?’

  The Frenchman looked rather confused by this and Hayden quickly translated the question. De Latendresse puffed out his lips and considered a moment before answering.

  ‘These revolutionaries … they are not so foolish. They know best where their enemies might land, and these places they have invested with cannon, and, nearby, troops have made camps. You might land a force, but to carry the island … it would take many men, I think, for getting ashore would be very costly.’

  ‘And what of our own islands?’ the admiral asked. ‘Will the Jacobins attempt them, or no?’

  The Frenchman shook his head slowly. ‘The French have no plans for further attacks this season,’ he assured them. ‘They have not got the ships for such adventures.’

  ‘Will they not be reinforced from France?’ Caldwell asked him.

  ‘Not this season, Admiral.’

  Even this news did not cheer Caldwell; he appeared to sink a little lower in his chair with each bit of the comte’s intelligence. The conversation moved away from the strategic position of the British in that area of the Caribbean Sea and on to mundane matters, the admiral and the French noblemen enquiring about the well-being of family and friends. It seemed that the comte lived with his comtesse and several children in a large house provided by the Navy. They were without a country – castaways of a different sort – and no doubt living in fear that the French might invade Barbados.

  Finally, the interview came to an end and Hayden departed, leaving Caldwell and the comte discussing who among the French exiles living in Barbados might be trusted and who might be a spy planted among them.

  Hayden gathered up Miguel and the two went out into the streets of Bridgetown. The day was warm, the wind fragrant with the spicy perfume of flowers. The city itself was a-hum, tradesmen’s carts and barrows passing by, planters in their carriages and gigs, dusky-skinned slaves and freemen going about their business, and then the Creoles with their nutmeg skin and striking features – to Hayden’s eye, more handsome than either of the races that spawned them. In among these walked smiling sailors who made knuckles to Hayden as they passed. There was little danger of desertion on such a small island and the hands were commonly given leave to go ashore, to their great delight and the profit of local inns and bawdy houses.

  It was but a short walk to the beach off of which the Themis lay at anchor, the stricken slave ship nearby. Hayden could see his crew at work about the ship setting aright all the wear of a long sea crossing.

  Hayden explained to Miguel that the admiral would send a letter to the Spanish merchant who acted as commissioner for his government when required, and he hoped this gentleman would aid them on their way.

  Miguel took this in, watching all the while where he put his feet. This news did nothing to cheer him or put his mind at rest, Hayden thought. Indeed, it almost appeared to increase his anxiety.

  ‘This news does not appear to have cheered you, Miguel?’ Hayden ventured.

  ‘My sister told you that two members of the crew on the Spanish frigate attempted to murder us?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I fear that this commissioner you speak of will send word to the wrong people, revealing that we are alive, and we will be in danger again.’

  ‘And who would the wrong people be?’

  ‘I wish I knew. Our stepfather has many allies … more than I realized.’

  Hayden wondered how much of this fear was real and how much imagined. He did believe that there had been an attempt on Miguel and Angelita’s lives by sailors on the frigate. That would be enough to make anyone distrustful, certainly.

  ‘The offer of my aid still stands …’ Hayden informed the Spaniard.

  Miguel stopped abruptly. ‘Captain Hayden,’ he said curtly, his voice shaking with suppressed anger, ‘you do not seem to comprehend what has happened. I cannot demand you walk out with me, as you have saved my life and the life of my sister, but do not think for a moment that I approve of your actions. No, sir, I believe you have betrayed my trust and acted as a … a bounder. The sooner I might prise my sister from your clutches, the better. I do not want your money, sir. I want nothing to do with you at all!’

  With that the Spaniard turned and set off down the beach. How he intended to get out to the ship when he had not a penny to pay a boatman, Hayden did not know.

  Hayden’s own cutter waited, drawn up on the beach, the crew lounging in the shade of a nearby tree. The coxswain soon had them up and launching the boat.

  ‘Where is the Spanish gentleman, Captain?’ the coxswain asked.

  ‘He was detained, Childers. You may return for him in one hour.’

  ‘Aye, sir.’

  As he was rowed out to his boat over water so clear he felt he sailed through the air, Hayden realized that the slaver was sending its human cargo ashore in lighters, some of the poor people so weakened and ill that they had to be helped down into the boats. The sight so distressed him that he had to turn away.

  What else could I do? he thought. I could not leave them to drift in the Atlantic.

  Yet the sight of them being carried ashore to be sold made it very clear that he had participated in this shameful trade. He had towed these poor creatures to Barbados and to a life of slavery. The truth that he could do nothing else without breaking the law was of little comfort.

  Hayden clambered up the side of his ship, spoke briefly with the lieutenant who was officer of the watch and then went below to his cabin, where he found Angelita sitting in a chair near the open gallery windows, her head bent over an
open book. She looked up as Hayden came in and a joyous smile set her cheeks aglow.

  ‘Charles!’

  ‘My dear, you are up. Has the doctor allowed it?’

  ‘Yes. I am following his very orders.’ She rose from her chair, stiffly and slowly for one so young. Her page was marked with a ribbon and the book placed gently on the seat, then, pushing on the back of the chair, she stood more or less erect, a grimace then a smile of determined triumph crossing her face.

  Hayden began toward her, but she held up a hand to stay his progress.

  ‘Let me cross to you. I am to walk about the cabin a little today.’ Moving more like a puppet than a supple young woman, she made her way slowly across the six or seven paces that divided them and nearly collapsed against him.

  Hayden put his arms about her lightly, so as to apply no pressure to her injured side. The feeling of her in his embrace, pressed against him, was intoxicating and he breathed in the scent of her hair as though it were the finest perfume. The idea that she would soon be gone caused him such a feeling of loss that he could hardly bear it.

  ‘The instant your brother believes you can be taken safely ashore he will have it done,’ Hayden whispered.

  ‘Then I should be back in my cot … immediately.’

  Hayden told her that Miguel remained ashore for an hour and then relayed to her their conversation.

  ‘He is trying to act in the place of my father but I would rather he remained a brother,’ she said quietly. ‘If we do not accept help from you, Charles, then who will it come from, and at what price?’

  ‘The admiral tells me there is a Spanish merchant here who acts on behalf of the Spanish government when required. Admiral Caldwell promised he would write this man a letter. And certainly you could write to your uncle and ask him for aid?’

  She pulled away from him so quickly that she was wracked by a spasm of pain. Finally, it faded enough that she was able to look up at him. ‘This merchant, he would write to my mother; I have no doubt of it. And then our whereabouts would become known to my stepfather. We cannot have this happen, Charles. I believe we would be in danger again – mortal danger. As to our uncle – he does not know we are fleeing to him. We planned to come to his house unannounced and plead our case before him. If he believed us, and we think he should, then he would not betray us to my mother. We dare not write to him lest he misunderstand and alert my stepfather where we are.’