Caribee

by Christopher Nicole

  Edward leaned back and allowed the sun to beat on his face. Although he had already finished the tiny chunk of salted meat and the single tooth-cracking biscuit which had been his share, and felt as hungry as when he had taken his first mouthful, noon was still the pleasantest part of the day. However poor the food, it was best at midday, and at midday, too, they could listen to Niles reminiscing, while now the sun was at its hottest, far warmer than he would ever have supposed possible; bearing on his face and through his shirt it almost made him forget the gnawing ache in his belly.

  'At least they died fed, I'll wager,' Hilton said. 'Tell the truth now, Niles, have you ever been this hungry?'

  'Or ever been this long at sea without sight of land,' Benjamin suggested.

  Niles considered. He was the only one of the watch below with food still in front of him, because he had carefully chopped his meat ration into tiny cubes, each one of which he masticated slowly and with great enjoyment. 'But once,' he said. 'Then I sailed with Johnny Painton. Now there's a sly one, to be sure. He'd trade with the devil, if he had to. But if the devil wasn'‘I armed, why, Johnny would change his tune in a moment, and send a shot across his bows.'

  'And once he took on more than he could handle?" Hilton asked.

  Niles chuckled. 'Not Johnny. But we was hit by this storm, north of Hispaniola, oh, ten years back it was. Took all the masts out of her, it did, and so we drifted, for days. Oh, we rigged a jury at last and got her home to Plymouth. Johnny Painton's a proper seaman. But there wasn'‘I so much as a piece of leather left unchewed by then. Oh, aye, you lads ain'‘I seen nothing yet.'

  'Boys to the quarter deck,' came the shout from aft, and Hilton and Edward scrambled up the ladders to attend Mr Ashton at the noon reckoning.

  'Hold it steady, lad. Hold it steady.' Ashton stooped to peer through the eyehole of the astrolabe. It was difficult even to approximate the aperture, so unsteady was Hilton's hand, much less line it up with the sun. 'Easy, now. Easy. Write these down,' he snapped at Edward. 'Six ... six... why, 'tis neither more nor less. Write that down, Mr Warner. Six degrees of north latitude. Now fetch me up that log board. Quickly.'

  The boy lurched towards the ladder, passed his father without a glance, and Tom sighed. It was necessary for Ashton to drive them constantly, for all that he felt no stronger than they, and more than sorry for them; left alone they would do nothing but bask in the sun at the foot of the mast. They moved like ghosts, and their bones showed wherever their clothes allowed. Tom leaned on the taffrail. But at least they could be occupied from dawn to dusk. Two months at sea. Two months on this cursed, empty ocean, which Waller Raleigh had described in such glowing terms. Two months of storm and tempest and invariably contrary winds. Even now it blew half against his face, although today at the least it was no more than gentle.

  He climbed the ladder to the poop, stood at the after gunwale and surveyed the four ships ploughing along in their wake. No doubt it was, despite all, a beautiful sight. The sea had a blueness in these equatorial climes he had never suspected, and the splashes of white as the occasional crest broke but added to the intensity of the colour. The ships themselves, seen from a distance, might just have navigated the Channel. He would need a glass to tell how scarred were the hulls, how much weed trailed from their bottoms. Even without the glass he could make out the strange rigging of the Goliath, for she sailed under jury mast, having lost her main in that tempest of a week ago. That had been their worst storm. So far. And it had all but done for the Goliath. He supposed they should be grateful that all the ships had survived. But he grieved for Edward, for the hunger in the boy's face. He had borne up magnificendy, had taken his place under young Hilton and performed his duty splendidly. Clearly he loved the sea, even with its discomfort and danger. And he was fortunate in having a good friend to help him and protect when, as happened with increasing regularity, tempers became frayed in the wardroom. But the eagerness with which he snatched at his dwindling rations was hard for a father to bear. And what Rebecca would say, was already saying, indeed, hardly bore contemplating. She would now be at the point of delivery, and he was four thousand miles away, and more, had carried with him her eldest son. He dreamed of her every night, and awoke in a sweat of desire and frustration. At least, he dreamed of women, every night. But less, perhaps, of Rebecca, tall and strong, than of Sarah, small and light, and laughing. It was six months since he had known any such reality.

  Roger North stamped on to the quarter deck below him. The admiral had not stood up well to the rigours of the voyage. He had lost weight, where he had little to spare, and had become ill-tempered and discouraged as day had succeeded day. Now he regarded Ashton with contempt, as the sailing master laid off the distance they had run during the night, allowing for the leeway and the increasing sluggishness of the hulls, watched as ever by the attentive Hilton and Edward.

  'At your endless calculations, Mr Ashton?' the admiral remarked. 'Truly, I have no doubt at all that you are as lost as any of us. And pray, sir, show me where we are today?'

  Ashton made his cross on the chart. 'By my reckoning, Mr North'

  'By your reckoning, Mr Ashton. Then where is the land I see beyond your thumb? The mainland, by God. How far is that? Scarce half an inch.'

  'An inch is yet thirty miles, Mr North. There is no man alive can see thirty miles, unless there be mountains at the horizon, and this land, so I am told by my books, is flat and low lying. And we may be closer or farther off than that. It is difficult to be sure on a voyage of such duration. But we are near, sir; I promise you that'

  'And the land is low lying, Mr North,' Edward said. ‘I was told so by Sir Walter Raleigh.'

  'Hold your impudent tongue, sir,' North shouted. 'By God, Master Warner, you'll address me when I address you, and not before. Understand that? As for your calculations, Mr Ashton, I'll allow you one more day, then I'll up helm and run for the Caribee Islands. They too are there, just over the horizon.' He mounted the ladder to the poop. "You'll take your stick to that lad of yours, Captain Warner, or I'll be forced to consider him a member of the crew and use a rope's end.'

  ‘I'll speak with the lad,' Tom promised. To make for the islands would be to break the King's patent. Or would you go apirating?'

  North glanced at him. ‘I have men's lives on my mind, Captain Warner. Do you know what was reported to me this morning? The crew are so famished they are eating the calf skins from around the halliards. Now, sir, I have no right to inflict such suffering on my followers.'

  Tom sighed. He had entirely misjudged this man. There was no resolution here, no firmness of purpose. But now was a sorry time to discover that.

  'Ahoy the deck,' came the call from the main top. ‘I see shoal water on the larboard bow.'

  'Shoal water?" Ashton called. 'Breakers, you mean?'

  'No, sir, Mr Ashton,' the seaman called. 'Tis the whole ocean turning brown, with the appearance of sand.'

  'By Christ,' North muttered. 'Here were no place to go aground.' He ran to the rail. 'You'll wear ship, Mr. Ashton. And signal the fleet to follow.'

  'Shoal water?" Ashton said again. 'Beyond sight of land? It cannot be."

  ‘It is not shallow, sir," Edward said. 'You may sail with confidence through it."

  'What? What?" North bellowed. 'By Christ, Master Warner, you go too far. Boatswain. Boatswain. Trice me that boy up. Ten lashes, sir.'

  'You'll not flog my son,' Tom said.

  'You'd argue with me? Beware, Captain Warner, that I do not hang you beside him. I am in command of this fleet, sir, and you are nothing but a passenger. An unpaying passenger, by God. Boatswain, do your duty.'

  The boatswain climbed on to the quarter deck, seized Edward by the shoulder.

  'But sir,' Edward cried

  'Be quiet,' Hilton whispered. ‘It will but increase your punishment.'

  'Sir,' Edward screamed. ‘It is not shoal. It is the mud brought down by the great rivers. Sir Walter told me so.' 'By God, sir,' North shouted.
>
  'The lad is right, Mr North,' Ashton said. ‘I have recalled the tale myself. With your permission, sir, we will stand on. Take in sail, by all means, but we can easily test the depths by sounding, and risk little.'

  North hesitated, glared from Edward to his father, and then turned back to the gunwale. His indecision was pitiful to see. 'Do as you see fit, Mr Ashton,' he muttered. 'Do as you see fit.'

  A low, seemingly solid wall of green, appearing to grow out of the brown water. The wind had dropped entirely now, and the boats were out, towing the ships towards the shore. And still they remained in three fathoms of water, as announced every few minutes by the leadsman in the bows. Edward had crawled forward, to watch the boats, and the approaching land, and Hilton standing in the stern of the pinnace, urging his men on. Land, and calm water, after all these weeks. And it was Raleigh's land There was no mistaking that endless forest

  Time now to forget the voyage. But he had little wish to do that. Time certainly to forget the cold, stormy nights they had suffered immethately after leaving Plymouth, and his consequent sea sickness, so forget the hungry ache in his belly, if he only could, the growing misery on Father's face, if he could. But Father would become cheerful when he got back to land. And it was time to remember the good things, the long days in the sun, as testified by his brown skin, the hours spent aloft with Tony, as testified by the muscles which welled in his arms, their long, intimate chats about intimate things, which had allowed him to understand more of Mr Walkden and the reasons for his screams of shame more than pain, and to grow more than ever afraid of his own insistent manhood. It had been a good voyage, he drought. But for the lack of food and the tempers of the admiral. But even those were behind them now.

  ‘I see the break, captain,' shouted the main top. 'A point to larboard.'

  Ashton scrambled on to the bowsprit beside Edward, and put his telescope to his eye. ‘It is there, all right. Where it should be. The Oyapoc, Mr. North. Do we stand in?'

  'Aye,' came the call from the poop. 'You're to be congratulated on your navigation, Mr Ashton.'

  'And you're to be congratulated on your memory, and your courage, Master Warner,' Ashton said. 'Or we'd have been making west, for the gallows, I have no doubt.' He looked down at the boy. 'You'll sail with me again, Mr Warner. You can have an apprentice's birth on my ship for the asking.'

  'Then I accept, sir,' Edward said. 'Here and now.'

  Ashton scratched his head, and then laughed. Twelve years old. Now let me give you a word of advice, Master Warner. You're growing too fast. No doubt it is the circumstances. But without care you'll be an old man at twenty. And that would be a shame. For the meanwhile, if you'd be my apprentice, take this glass and watch that river, and the banks. We don'‘I want to stumble on any Spaniards, like Mr Raleigh. And by God, boy, drop my telescope overboard and I'll have the skin from your arse.'

  He returned to the deck, and Edward took the heavy telescope carefully in both hands, legs wrapped around the hot wood of the bowsprit. But by now he was as at home out here as on his bunk, and this sea was calm as a lake. Yet his hands trembled as he gazed at the shore; through the glass he could separate the bees, and now he could pick out the mouth of the river, and the swirl in the water. There's a bar,' he called.

  ‘I see it,' came the answer from aft.

  The boats edged closer, the oars dipping into the brown sea, the bare backs of the men sweating brown as well, as they swayed and heaved. Now each blade came up in the centre of a mass of discoloured ooze, and a moment later the Great St George seemed to shudder, very gently, and quite without noise.'

  'By Christ,' North shouted. "We're aground.'

  Ashton was peering over the side. The boats were still floating, and pulling. 'Just,' he said. 'And it's soft mud. Nothing more. Give way,' he bawled. 'Put your backs into it. Give way.'

  The men strained, the boats surged forward, and the Great St George continued to move, through the turbulence caused by the mud bar, and into the deeper, calmer waters of the river beyond.

  Through, by God,' Ashton called. 'Quartermaster, you'll signal the fleet to follow.'

  Edward stared at the banks of the river, the telescope forgotten. Trees. As Sir Walter had promised. It was mid-morning now, and the sun blazed down from a cloudless sky, yet there was no light in there, save for the occasional shaft, startling in its suddenness, piercing leafy crown and reflecting from huge, rounded trunk. A silent, empty forest. But if the trees were there, and brown ocean, as Raleigh had said, then the dragons would be there, too.

  'This is El Dorado?" Tom muttered from the deck.

  Edward slid back to stand beside him. ‘It is as we expected, sir."

  'Aye. But somehow... I dislike the silence. Walter never mentioned the silence. This place has no life in it."

  There is life there, sir. Surely. Look.' In front of the boats a fish had jumped.

  ' 'Tis that unused they are to the splash of oars.'

  'But there, sir.' Edward pointed again. 'Look there.'

  The Great St George slowly came round a bend in the river, which seemed to widen before them. Still the trees clung to the right hand bank and filled the left hand bank too, at a distance; but immethately in front of them there was a clearing of some size carried back from the water; here there were wooden huts, and beyond, an expanse of pasture, covered with weed and growth, but none the less cleared, once, and not too long ago.

  The admiral and Ashton had seen it too. 'Houses, by God,' North shouted. Tis the Harcourt settlement. We'll anchor, if you please, Mr Ashton, and make a signal to the fleet to do likewise. We've arrived, man, arrived.'

  Tom Warner stood up and shaded his eyes. 'At a dead colony,' he muttered. ‘In a dead land. May God have mercy on our souls.'

  The pinnace nosed into the shore, pushing its prow through reed and sand, to come to rest against the more solid bulk of the bank. The sailors backed their oars, and the boat remained still, clasped in a green and brown vise. Now that the splashes and the grunts were ended, there was complete silence. Edward, seated beside his father in the stem, pressed against Mr North, wanted to hold his breath. Behind him, the five ships waited at anchor, so still as to seem grown out of the mud-brown water which swirled gently around their anchor chains. Astern of the pinnace the other boats waited to come ashore once their admiral gave the signal. And before them, behind them, on either side of them, wherever the river meandered, the green forest also waited.

  But the huts were closer at hand. Now they were actually at the shore they could see that the roofs had in many cases fallen in, and the windows gaped, and vines and bushes lay curled over the ground. Yet this had been an English settlement. The houses were arranged in two rows, enclosing a would be village street, leading up to a larger building at the inner end. The town hall, no doubt. It had been very neat, once.

  Mr North rose, and made his way forward. He had donned his best blue doublet, and wore lace at collar and cuffs, although in common with the other gentlemen of the fleet he had discarded his ruff; it was simply too hot. His hat was a broad-brimmed felt, with a peacock feather, and his sword was a Spanish rapier. His beard had been combed and trimmed, and he wore long leather boots. The perfect picture of an Englishman taking possession of a piece of the world for his king. He hesitated for a moment in the bows, gazing at the village and obviously enjoying this moment to the full, and then jumped on to the bank. The ground squelched beneath his feet, but he sank only an inch. He turned, took off his hat, and waved it above his head.

  A ripple of cheering broke out from the ships and drifted across the silent river, immethately accompanied by the roar of the cannon as they fired their salute, and a feu de joie of musketry rang through the trees. Smoke clouded into the still air, and the buds rose in profusion at this strange sound.

  'By Christ,' Tom growled. 'We'll awaken every Spaniard or savage within miles.'

  'You'll come ashore, Captain Warner. And bring your musketeers with you.'

  'Stay
close by me, Edward.' Tom climbed out of the boat He also had saved his best suit of clothes for this occasion, and they had found a morion to suit him, but no breastplate. Edward scrambled behind him—his clothes were by now sadly threadbare—and felt the mud give under his shoes. Behind them came a file of musketeers, wearing helmets and breastplates, and carrying their staffs and heavy fire-pieces across their shoulders. Now the other boats came into the bank and also unloaded their crews, until Tom had command of two score armoured men. The sailors remained by the boats, but several of the other gentlemen, and the boys from the flagship, Tony Hilton, Benjamin and Dick, also came ashore.

  'A fair place,' North declared. 'Hot, by God, but fair. There'll have been tobacco in that field over there. Well gather the seeds first thing, as soon as we have put these houses in repair. Mr Ashton, you'll take a file and find us fresh water; I suspect this river will prove brackish, but there will be streams entering it. And see what you can locate in the way of fresh food; there will be much of that. Captain Warner, you'll accompany me with your men, if you please.'

  "We'll have skirmishers, Mr North,' Tom decided, and gave the orders. Four of the musketeers went in advance, two on either side of the street, kicking their way through the long grass, while the main body followed Tom and Edward and Mr North up the centre, and the sailors remained in a huddle by the boats.

  'By God, 'tis close,' Hilton remarked, taking off his hat to fan himself. "Tis to be hoped there is fresh water close at hand.'

  There will be, Mr Hilton,' North assured him.

  The skirmishers were throwing open the rotting doors of the cottages, peering into the interiors and then returning to the street, when without warning

  the sun went in. The men stopped, to stare at the heavens, and the huge black cloud which was coming up out of the forest.