Caribee

by Christopher Nicole

  Aline Galante turned on her knees as she attempted to get to her feet, a magnificent white-skinned surge of womanhood, all that he had ever dreamed of since that day in the bedchamber with Mama, with long rich brown hair, loosed by the struggle and scattering over her shoulders, with belly still tightly constricted by the corset and legs till clung to by cotton stockings, and between a wonder world of thick, dark forested riches, the whole clouded by the perfume she wore, an excitement not even Mama had ever offered, and still dominated by the laughter he seemed to hear ringing from tree to tree.

  He caught her ankle, and she tripped, and fell again, and rolled on her back to kick at him, once again realizing her mistake as he retained his grip. 'Monsieur,' she shouted. 'Edward, I beg of you. .. .' She knew now that she could not stop him with words, and sat up as he released her to take off his breeches, but he was still quicker than she was, and before she could turn again he had seized her round the waist and laid her flat. Her hands came up, swinging and scratching at his face, and her knees drummed against his thighs as his body slid up hers. They were almost the same height, and his face pressed against hers as he forced her legs down. Still she fought, sobbing and gasping, for breath and with anxiety in the beginning, and then with pain, as his grip on her arms tightened, and as her kicking pelvis became absorbed in his weight, while the ribs of the corset ate into his flesh with a force equal to the thrust of her breasts.

  Passion left him with male suddenness, and he was aware only of the softness under him, of the urgency behind her knees as they flopped against him, of her gasps for breath which mingled with her sobs. In time he moved, or was moved, and rolled into the bushes to gaze at the sky. Never had he wanted woman more. Never had he so hated himself, as now.

  Aline was on her knees, retching and panting. 'Monsieur,' she begged. ‘I cannot breathe. I cannot.. ..'

  He knelt beside her, fingers tugging at the corset. Now he could see, and now it was easy. And now he could see, too, the blood on her thigh. And now, too, he wanted to weep.

  ‘I'm sorry,' he mumbled. I did not know....'

  'You took me for a street woman?' The tight bones slipped from her waist, and she inhaled with tremendous satisfaction.

  ‘I saw you, with that man. . . .'

  'Mon Dieu,' she said. 'But of course, you English are savages. In France, monsieur, a lady's virginity is at least safe until her marriage. That man did no more than kiss my shoulder. Nor would it have occurred to him to do otherwise.'

  Edward got up, turned away from her. Gone was the exultation and the ecstasy, the anger and the hatred. Now he felt only disgust.

  He heard her moving behind him. Doing what? Preparing what tragedy?

  'Mon Dieu,' she said again. "You have destroyed my dress. You will at least do me the courtesy of returning to the town for another.'

  He looked down on her. She was quite the most splendid

  object he had ever seen, with the body of a voluptuous athlete, the slender legs, so white and so absurdly stained with earth, reaching up to the wide woman's thighs, the wonderland beyond, the magnificent breasts, the hauntingly unforgettable face, so beautiful in its very lack of symmetry, the masses of waving mahogany hair, above all else the total distraction with which she examined her tattered garments.

  'As you said just now, they will hang me.'

  She did not bother to look at him. ‘It is more than likely,' she agreed. 'But not immediately.' Now at last she raised her head, and to his utter amazement burst into a peal of magnificent laughter. 'Oh, you look so miserable, Monsieur Warner.'

  'You ... you can laugh?'

  'Would you have me weep? I did, when you were hurting me and when I supposed that I might stop you. To continue would be to introduce wrinkles into my face, and I should not like that. And why should I not laugh? My maidenhead had to be wrenched from my body at some time quite soon, and there are worse ways to lose it. Why, I would wager you have done me a service.'

  'A service?’

  She stood up. 'But of course. For now we must be married.'

  'Be married?' he repeated stupidly.

  'Of course, monsieur. I cannot go to any other man lacking a maidenhead. And you are a gentleman born, are you not? Oh, yes, Papa will insist upon it. And I promise you, Edward, if you are good, I will allow you a wedding night.'

  'But... my crime....'

  'Oh, for that you will be hanged,' she said, and burst into another peal of amusement. ‘You do not really expect not to be punished?’

  Edward scratched his head.

  'And I,' she explained, 'will then be a widow. Now, no one expects a widow to possess a maidenhead. Indeed, to a widow all things are possible.' She extended her arm. 'You may kiss my hand, Edward, and I will accept your troth.'

  He seized her hand and pulled her forward.

  'Oh, no, monsieur,' she cried. 'Nothing more. Let us endeavour to conduct ourselves, at least in the future, with propriety.

  'Propriety.' He released her, slowly, allowing himself to enjoy her beauty, hoping to be rewarded, and was, with the slightest flush, but only the slightest, and she returned his inspection with interest.

  'Well, monsieur,' she said. 'We can both at least be sure of what we are getting. Are you not satisfied?"

  'Are you?"

  She wrinkled her nose, a fresh extravagance of sheer delight he had not before observed. ‘I doubt I shall ever find a body quite to equal yours, monsieur.'

  'But you will still have me hanged.'

  'Well,' she pointed out, 'you have committed a most serious crime. To most fathers, rape is no less than murder, especially of an unmarried daughter.' She wrinkled her nose again. 'You would not wish to beg for your life?"

  'No.'

  She shrugged. 'Then you are at once a gentleman and a fool. Truly, I have often wondered where the one left off and the other began. If you do not hurry to obtain some clothes for me to wear, there will be search parties out looking for me, and I should not like to be discovered naked in the forest.'

  He clenched his fists in indecision. So easy to take her again, to drive her in front of him, over to Windward. Over? They were already there. He gazed through the trees at the beach, at the great rollers pounding on the sand, at the islands beyond, at the ships. Endless ships, one, three, five, seven, ten, fifteen, twenty, more than a score of sail, filtering through the windward passage.

  'By God,' he whispered.

  She stood beside him. Her moist shoulder touched his own. 'Mon Dieu,' she echoed. 'But that is an Armanda.'

  'You're right. From Santo Domingo. By God, but Yeats is nothing less than a prophet; your uncle has raised a hornet's nest' He turned, and ran back through the forest

  9

  The Phoenix

  ‘But monsieur’ Aline cried. ‘You cannot leave me so far from town.'

  Edward checked. 'Then come on’ 'Like this? That is impossible.'

  He faced her. 'Aline, that is a Spanish fleet. Have you any idea what they will do to your father, to your aunt and uncle, to you yourself, if they manage to make a landing here?"

  'And the Sieur de Cahusac will stop them?’

  Edward smiled. 'We shall see if your Frenchmen are any more courageous than our English’

  Aline was pointing. 'You smiled. Do you know, that is the first time I have ever seen you smile? Will these Spaniards not also kill you?"

  'Undoubtedly,' he agreed. 'But I have been told that one death is much like another, when it comes to the point.' Almost he laughed, less at his own bad joke than at the sheer situation. He was reminded of the middle-sized fish swallowing the little fish, and then in turn swimming too close to the big fish. In the Americas there was no bigger fish than the Spaniards. Besides, it was such a treat to discover Aline looking concerned.

  'Well,' she grumbled. 'At least help me, monsieur’

  He knelt beside her, discovering the torn shift and sorting it out from a variety of other undergarments. ' 'Tis certain you'll not need this.' He threw the c
orset into the bushes.

  'But....' she rested her hands on her knees as she knelt, and gazed after it. And then laughed, as only she could laugh. 'But of course. .Why put it on when a Spanish sailor will soon be dragging it off.'

  He helped her dress and they began their return journey, as slowly as they had come out, although it was well into the morning by now, because Aline's feet were soft, and often they had to stop while she massaged her insteps, or Edward had to carry her over outcrops of rock. Yet she never complained, although very soon she panted for breath and perspiration began to mark that splendid face. Indeed, by the time they regained the forest behind the town she was a sorry sight, her hair scattered in every direction, the last of her paint gone, her gown torn and stained with dirt and leaves and sweat, her feet coated with dust beyond the ankles, for her stockings had disintegrated.

  'Well, now,' he said. 'You'll be all right here, Aline. You can watch what is going on, and I'll try to get some clothes out to you. And if you begin to worry, you can always come in as you are.'

  ‘I am starving,' she pointed out. 'Do you realize that it is past noon? And what are you going to do, anyway?"

  'First of all, inform Monsieur Belain of what is sitting on his doorstep.'

  Again the tremendous laugh. 'And do you not think he knows?"

  He followed the direction of her pointing finger. Brimstone Hill was a mass of soldiers, their officers gathered at the seaward parapet, gazing through their telescopes; and indeed, on the faint breeze he could now hear the rumble of cannon.

  'Nevis, by God,' he muttered. ‘I had no idea there was anything there worth bombarding.'

  The French fleet was also active, with boats constantly plying to and from the shore, and sails being made ready.

  'You'd best forget about your appearance and come now,' Edward suggested. ‘I doubt that Monsieur Belain intends to pit six against thirty, after all.'

  'You had best hurry, Edward,' she said. 'Fetch me a cloak. That will do. And some bread and cheese and a bottle of wine.'

  'One day, mademoiselle, you are going to have to look at life a little more seriously.'

  'One day, monsieur, I shall be old and grey and have grandchildren, and I hope that they too will be able to make me laugh. Now, do not say that you will not kiss your betrothed farewell, even if only for a few minutes.'

  He hesitated, and then lowered his head and brushed her on the lips.

  'Oh, Edward,' she said. That was the kiss of an old married man. Not an ardent lover.'

  He pulled himself away and ran through the trees, followed by her laughter. He gained the beach north of the town, to find his Irishmen, with Philip and Yarico and Little Tom, and the Carib women, gathered on the sand to watch the ships. From here Nevis was out of sight, but there was no mistaking the anxiety of the Frenchmen, nor the fact that they were packing up; boxes and bales had appeared on the street, and the women were hurrying back and forth.

  Thank God you've come back,' Philip said. 'Where in the name of Heaven have you been?"

  ‘I went over to Windward, and saw the Dons. Seems there must have been more of them than I thought, and farther south. Tis fortunate we are that they chose to stop at Nevis first. Why have you not been to Belain to inquire his arrangements?'

  'Sure, and those beggars will not let us past, Master Edward,' Yeats declared.

  For there was a platoon of French marines, fully armed and looking suitably determined.

  'Spaniards bad people,' Yarico said. 'Many dead.'

  'And this lot ain't staying,' muttered another of the Irishmen; the first pinnace was loading with women, to take them out to the ships.

  'Come on,' Edward said, and went along the sand.

  'Halt there, monsieur,' said the young officer in charge. 'My admiral will have no panic.'

  'Panic?' Edward demanded.' ‘Tis not us that are panicking. What, does your commander mean to cut and run?"

  'The Governor has the safety of his people in mind, monsieur. That is a fleet of war out there.'

  'And what about my people?"

  ‘I do not know, monsieur. No doubt His Excellency will acquaint you with his plans in due course.'

  ‘I’d speak with him now, if you will permit it, lieutenant' ‘I do not permit it, Monsieur Warner.'

  Then tell Monsieur Belain, and Captain Galante, that I have news of Mademoiselle Galante.'

  The officer frowned. 'News, monsieur?'

  'You are aware that she is missing, are you not?"

  ‘I had heard ... you'll come with me, monsieur.'

  "We'll all come,' Edward said. 'Will you lads stand by me?'

  'Well, sir,' Yeats said. 'We might, if we knew what ye was after.'

  ‘I'm after bargaining for our lives, Yeats, and I think we'll do best by staying close.' Then we're with ye, sir’

  The officer chewed his lip. And then came to a decision. 'You'll march in close order, monsieur. And you'll obey my commands’

  'Willingly,' Edward agreed, and fell in at the head of his men, with Philip at his side and Yarico immediately behind him. The marines took their places on either side of the group, and marched them towards the town.

  'What do you seek?' Philip muttered. 'Belain will not find us a place on those ships.'

  Then he must let us make for the interior of the island, now. To stay here is to be murdered’ Edward pointed out.

  They approached Sandy Point. From the street to the landing stage an avenue of soldiers had been formed, and down this the women, assisted by the sailors, were carrying their belongings, chattering at each other in French, alarmed, certainly, and yet apparently still confident that they could escape the coming holocaust. By now, too, Brimstone Hill had been abandoned, and the officers were returning to the beach.

  The prisoners and their escort were halted by a captain who exchanged remonstrances with the lieutenant, waving his hands in the air, shouting and gesticulating, and being at last interrupted by Belain himself, accompanied by Galante. They also spoke with the lieutenant before turning to Edward.

  'What means this demonstration, Warner?" Belain demanded. Where is Mademoiselle Galante? We have had a patrol out searching for her this last hour.'

  ‘They'll not find her,' Edward declared with a sinking heart. Because however modest she was, she would certainly have heard and no doubt responded to their halloos.

  'But you know where she is?" Galante demanded. 'Why, you insolent young puppy. ...'

  Belain made a remark in French, and his brother-in-law fell silent.

  'You abducted her?" Belain asked, very softly.

  ‘I asked her to become my wife, Monsieur Belain.'

  "You....' he burst into laughter. But there was little humour in his eyes. ‘I see. And when she refused....'

  'She did not refuse, monsieur. She accepted, and we took a walk in the forest to plight our troth.'

  ‘To ... by God,' Galante shouted, reaching for his sword.

  Once again he was checked by Belain. ‘I have no doubt my niece will confirm your story, Edward. So then, why keep her hidden?"

  ‘I but wish to know your intention regarding my people, and myself,' Edward said.

  'Ah. Well, as you will have observed, the Dons appear to resent our settling in their islands, so we shall have to take ourselves off. There is a pity now, but I have no doubt at all that we shall come back, when the power of Spain has been whittled down a little further. I tell you the truth when I say that I had no idea they yet mustered thirty men-of-war in Santo Domingo. Why, they must have scoured the entire Caribbean to find them. But they are here, and the odds are unsuitable.'

  ‘You mean you will abandon the colony?"

  ‘Indeed we must. Our investors will not be pleased. But who knows, we may be able to use our time well, before we finally leave the Antilles. If every ship the Spaniards can muster is here, there must be one or two unprotected ports which we can visit with profit.'

  'And us, monsieur?"

  'Why, Master Warner,
as you so gallantly insisted on remaining to watch your property when Monsieur Ashton left, I naturally assumed that you would not be prepared to allow the Spaniards to make free with your town. Do not tell me I was wrong?’

  ‘I admire your humour, sir,' Edward said. "You'll know as well as I that the Spaniards admit no rights of warfare to intruders in the Indies. They will treat anyone they can catch as a criminal. And a heretic'

  ‘Indeed I have heard that,' Belain agreed. 'But then, of course, in landing here with your Father and three other men, you were prepared to risk Spanish wrath. I find your attitude at once unexpected and disappointing.'

  'And the fact that I am betrothed to Mademoiselle Galante has no effect upon your reasoning?'

  'By God,' Galante growled. 'Give me half an hour with him....'

  'There will be no need, Joachim,' Belain said. ‘I assume you are jesting, Monsieur Warner. I do not know what witchcraft you practised upon the poor child, but you must know that I could never permit such an alliance between a niece of mine and a half savage such as you. Now come, tell us where the girl is, and we shall let you go with your lives, at the least. Otherwise, by God, I shall hang every man of you within the hour. And the women.'

  Edward hesitated, pulling at his chin.

  ' Tis the best we can hope for, Edward,' Philip muttered. ‘You said we could take to the wood. The Dons will not stay long.'

  'Aye,' Yeats said. 'Better comb the beaches here in St Christopher than live as French slaves for the rest of our lives.'

  'Come, come, Edward,' Belain said. 'Time is passing.'

  "You'll let me and my people go,' Edward said. 'As soon as I have told you where Mademoiselle Galante is?"

  'You take us for children?" Galante growled. 'Suppose she is dead.'

  'She is not dead. And by our lights, she is not even harmed. Refuse me this, sir, and I will cheerfully hang. And I observe that the firing from Nevis has stopped.'

  ‘We have got to be away, Joachim,' Belain said, 'and we waste our time here. Edward, will you give me your word as an English gentleman that you will direct us truly, and that Mademoiselle Galante is unharmed?’

  ‘I do, monsieur. And you will let my people go, on your word as a French nobleman?’